Mother of Midnight

Chapter 212 – A Flickering in the Morning

Vivienne wasn’t sure how she was going to feed her daughter. The usual way was simple—Liora would place a clawed hand on her victim, drawing in the fear-laced aether that spilled from them like blood from an open wound. But now… nothing. She wasn’t responding at all.

Was she dead?

Vivienne had checked a dozen times over, searching for any sign of life. No pulse. No breath. No warmth. But every so often, she would catch the barest flicker behind Liora’s heavy eyelids, as if something was still moving beneath the surface. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the gnawing horror at bay. For now.

She sat down beside the three goblins who had volunteered, their small bodies curled up asleep in their makeshift cloaks around the fire. Kivvy was among them. Vivienne’s lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced at her. She should probably apologise properly later. Not for what she said—she had meant every word—but for how she said it. Not that it mattered. Kivvy was the only one here she actually gave a damn about. The rest…

Vivienne’s gaze flicked to the other two nameless goblins, her expression unreadable. They would serve their purpose. That was enough.

With a slow, measured breath, she adjusted Liora in her arms and carefully placed her daughter’s limp claw on the nearest goblin and held it there. The woman barely stirred, lost in the deep, unnatural sleep Vivienne had forced upon her. A flicker of something curled in the back of Vivienne’s mind—a presence, waiting, hungering.

Vivienne closed her eyes and reached out with that part of herself she had only begun to understand. She willed the goblin to dream.

Darkness bloomed behind her eyelids, thick and heavy, coiling like smoke. She felt it take hold, wrapping around the sleeping woman’s mind, tugging at the frayed edges of her thoughts. The goblin’s face scrunched up, breath hitching, fingers twitching in response. The fear came slow at first, a trickle, then a steady flow, drawn out in restless whimpers and the occasional twitch of her limbs.

Vivienne wasn’t certain how deep she had pushed them—if she had simply sent them into a nightmare or if they had been locked into a deeper, dreamless abyss. She didn’t particularly care, so long as it worked.

Liora didn’t move.

She reached for the aether, drawing it from the goblin’s fitful dreams. The fear-saturated energy pulsed against her grasp, coiling like mist, uncertain and aimless. Normally, she would have devoured it herself—let it sink into her bones, fortify her strength—but this time, she forced it elsewhere.

Vivienne willed the aether toward Liora, nudging it, pushing it, guiding it into her daughter's unresponsive form. The energy hesitated, hovering like smoke caught in a breeze, threatening to scatter and fade. A muscle in Vivienne’s jaw tightened. No. She wouldn't let it go to waste.

With slow, deliberate control, she urged it forward, shaping it, pressing it into Liora like she was filling a hollow vessel. For a moment, nothing happened. The aether sat there, stagnant, refusing to sink in. A fresh surge of frustration burned at the edges of her patience, but then—

A shift.

The aether stirred, sluggish at first, then it began to seep in, disappearing beneath Liora’s dark skin like water soaking into dry earth.

Vivienne’s breath caught. A flicker of something—small, faint, but undeniable—stirred within her daughter’s chest. Hope, fragile and trembling, tightened in Vivienne’s chest.

More and more of the aether funneled into Liora, drawn by some instinct beyond Vivienne’s control. At first, she had to guide it, coax it, but soon the pull became effortless, natural—Liora was taking it on her own.

Vivienne’s grip on her tightened. You’re still in there, sweetheart.

She hadn’t allowed herself to think otherwise, but now, with each slow, steady inhale her daughter took, with every ounce of aether she absorbed, the truth settled deeper into her chest.But she couldn't let her drain too much. Vivienne forced herself to shift away, prying Liora’s clawed fingers from the first goblin’s arm. The poor thing—what was her name? Vivienne had already forgotten—was slack, her breath deep and even. She'd wake up fine. Eventually.

She moved to the next. This time, it was easier. Smoother. Liora barely hesitated, her body drinking in the fear-laced aether like a parched thing finding water. Vivienne let the process run its course, keeping an eye on the goblin's breathing, watching for any sign of distress.

Then came Kivvy.

Vivienne hesitated.

It wasn’t because she feared hurting the goblin—she had been careful, meticulous even, and Kivvy had volunteered. No, it was something else. Something heavier.

She had never taken from Kivvy before. Never let Liora take from her either. Kivvy was… different. The closest thing to a friend Vivienne had. Not that she’d ever tell her that.

Renzia was too servile—utterly devoted, unquestioning. A flaw Vivienne knew she had done little to fix. A personal failure. And Rava… when she was alive, she had been more than a friend. Much more.

Vivienne exhaled slowly, pushing the thoughts away. It didn’t matter now.

"Are they going to be okay?"

Caelum’s voice broke the silence.

Vivienne didn’t bother looking at him. "Eventually. They'll be exhausted when they wake and will need a day or so to recover."

"Are you sure?" he pressed.

"It has been done before," she said, her voice clipped. "Previously, Liora would eat from… someone, every few days or so. They starved her for weeks while we were down there."

Bitter heat crawled up her throat, and she swallowed it down. She had let that happen. She had been shackled, dragged through those tunnels, her mind hazy with hunger, but she had still let it happen.

Caelum hesitated before speaking again. "What about you?"

Vivienne flicked her eyes to him, her fingers tightening around Liora’s tiny, limp hand. "What about me?"

"Did you eat anything while down there?"

"No."

Caelum frowned. "How? You should've—"

"I presume I don’t need to eat," Vivienne interrupted. "Not really." She placed Liora’s hand on Kivvy’s head and began the process. Aether stirred between them, sluggish at first, then more eager as Liora latched onto the source.

"Then why do you eat?"

Vivienne’s lips curled into a faint smirk. "Eating is a way for me to stockpile power. And I enjoy it."

Caelum’s expression shifted, unreadable. "Enjoy eating people?"

She let the question hang in the air, tilting her head as she watched Kivvy’s brow twitch in her sleep.

"You are full of questions, aren’t you?" she murmured.

"It is something that concerns me," Caelum admitted, his voice low but firm.

Vivienne made a soft sound in the back of her throat—half amusement, half exasperation. "Hmm. Then let me ask you a question. If a Rashan Raptor killed a lekine warrior, feasted on its kill, would you fault it for doing so?"

Caelum frowned. "You are a thinking person. You can make the distinction."

"That’s not the point." Vivienne’s gaze flicked toward him, her black eyes unreadable in the dim light. "Do you fault the creature for simply following its instincts?"

He hesitated, considering. "I don’t think I would."

"Exactly." She spoke as if it was the simplest truth in the world. "At the very least, every person I have eaten thus far has been a criminal, an enemy of the state, or a traitor to Serkoth. I choose who I eat. Waste not want not."

"But they have families!" Caelum hissed, a sharp edge of emotion creeping into his voice. His words rang out too loudly in the stillness, and he winced as a few of the sleeping goblins stirred. He took a steadying breath, lowering his voice. "They have loved ones. People who might want to see their bodies at the very least."

Vivienne exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. "And what does it change? They are dead regardless. More often than not, they are too far from home for their bodies to be delivered to their families. Would it comfort them to know their son, their husband, their father was left to rot in the mud? Or that something else—something less discerning—picked their bones clean?"

Caelum’s jaw tightened. "It’s horrible."

"It’s nature," Vivienne corrected, her voice cold and steady. "I told you when we met that I was a monster. I care only for a few select people." Her fingers idly brushed over Liora’s limp hand. "The rest? They’re food."

Caelum looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His lips parted as if he had something to say, but whatever it was, he swallowed it back. Instead, he let out a slow breath and rubbed a hand down his face.

"Do you really believe that?" he finally asked, quieter now.

Vivienne turned her gaze toward him, but there was no flicker of uncertainty in her black eyes. "Believe what?"

"That you’re a monster."

Her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "What else would you call me?"

Vivienne pulled Liora’s claw away from Kivvy, careful not to jostle the goblin more than necessary. She had been gentler with her—far gentler than the others. The nightmares she’d woven into Kivvy’s mind were little more than shadows at the edges of sleep, fleeting things that wouldn’t leave her too drained when she woke. The others had not been so lucky.

She told herself it was practical. Kivvy was their de facto leader, the one keeping the goblins together, keeping them moving. Weakening her too much would be a liability. That was all.

It had to be.

Vivienne brushed a stray curl from Liora’s face, her claws ghosting over the child’s limp features. Then, without looking up, she asked, "Then what am I?"

Her voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it, something not quite challenging but not far from it either. Daring him to give an answer she could tear apart, something she could scoff at and dismiss.

Caelum didn’t rise to the bait. "Someone who still cares," he said simply.

"Even monsters have soft spots, boy."

Before Caelum could respond, Vivienne felt a subtle stirring in her arms. Her gaze snapped downward to Liora, heart racing in anticipation. The girl’s body remained still, but there was the faintest twitch in her claws, like the faintest whisper of a sign that she was still there, still fighting.

Then, her dark, unblinking eyes flicked upward, locking onto Vivienne’s. The connection was instant, but it didn’t last. Liora’s eyes blinked slowly, as if unsure of what she was seeing, and then the stillness took over again. There was no other movement, no sudden gasp or flutter of recognition.

Vivienne’s breath caught in her chest. It was like a wave of relief crashing over her all at once. Liora was still in there. She wasn’t gone. Vivienne felt her pulse quicken, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to steady herself. The fear, the frustration, the weight of everything she had been carrying seemed to lift, just a little.

Without thinking, her hand reached down to brush the hair away from Liora’s forehead. The touch was soft, tender, as if she were trying to reassure her daughter, even though she wasn’t sure if Liora could feel it. Still, the action felt natural, comforting. She leaned down slightly, her breath soft against Liora’s skin, and placed a kiss on her forehead. It was gentle, almost reverent, as if this small act could somehow bridge the gap between the girl who had once been so full of life and the stillness that now held her.

Vivienne smiled. It was the kind of smile that was full of both sorrow and love, a tender thing that she rarely allowed herself. For a brief moment, the hardness around her heart, the relentless mask she wore, slipped just enough to let something softer show.

"You're still here," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The words were for herself as much as they were for Liora, a silent promise that no matter what had happened, she wouldn’t give up. Not on her daughter.

For a long moment, Vivienne stayed there, letting herself hold onto that fragile thread of hope.

Caelum, for his part, had a warm smile on his face. It bothered Vivienne, especially after all the prodding he did earlier. It wasn’t that the smile was fake—it was just… too pure. Too kind. It was the smile of someone who believed in good things, in second chances, in redemption. And Vivienne… well, she didn’t believe in any of that. Not for herself, at least.

She turned to face him, her words coming out sharper than she intended. “What?”

He didn’t falter, his smile only deepening. “I’m glad there is some progress, at the very least. I hope she becomes hale and hearty with haste.”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, before she reluctantly turned back to Liora, her thoughts twisting in on themselves. “Thank you.”

Caelum didn’t seem to notice the tension in the air, or if he did, he didn’t mind it. His voice remained even and kind as he pressed forward. “Would you tell me about her?”

“Don’t you need to sleep?” she asked, hoping to deflect. Anything to avoid letting him see what she was really made of, what she’d become.

“I can go another day or two without it,” Caelum said, without hesitation, a quiet confidence in his words.

Vivienne met his gaze briefly, feeling an uncomfortable flicker of something—guilt, maybe? But she didn’t know how to deal with that. She shifted her focus back to her daughter, the soothing cold of Liora’s hand still against hers. She couldn’t let herself forget what she was, no matter how much Caelum seemed to believe in her goodness.

She sighed, her voice quieter this time, more resigned. “Then I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

She settled with Liora in her arms and began to speak.