Mother of Midnight

Chapter 225 – Getting Inn Side

Storm, no—Rava, finally let go of Vivienne after much convincing. Her chest still heaved, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as the aftermath of their closeness lingered in the air. She wasn’t sure why she felt so drawn to this woman. It wasn’t something she could explain, but there was a tug in the back of her mind, a gnawing sensation she couldn’t ignore. It was like something had been missing, and now it was finally whole again. She couldn’t pinpoint why she felt this overwhelming attraction, this almost primal need. All she knew was that Vivienne was the most desirable mate she could imagine—every inch of her skin, every movement, everything about her seemed to call to Rava in a way nothing had before. The scent of her arousal lingered in the air, intoxicating, tempting—she could feel it in her very bones. If it weren’t for the fact that they were still in the middle of this frigid, dangerous terrain, she might have taken her right there in the snow.

But before she could indulge herself in the fantasy of it all, something made her pause.

She quickly stood up, suddenly on edge, snapping around to face the paladin—Caelum. His expression was complicated, unreadable, as though he were trying to work through a puzzle that didn’t quite make sense to him.

Rava’s eyes narrowed, her instincts flaring. “You will die.” She growled, her voice low and dangerous.

The threat was instinctive. He was Aegis. He had to die. Simple as that.

But just as Rava took a step toward him, ready to leap and strike, she felt a strong grip wrap around her wrist. It wasn’t painful, but it was firm—unnaturally strong.

Her gaze snapped up, her hackles rising as she saw the strange woman standing behind her, eyes filled with frustration and something else she couldn’t read.

“Why are you attacking him?” The woman’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, as if she were struggling to keep herself from saying something worse.

Rava bared her fangs, her primal rage only intensifying. “He is the enemy. Aegis. Must die.”

The woman’s expression shifted, and she sighed heavily, her breath catching in the cold air. “He isn’t. Caelum is as much an enemy to Aegis as you or I.” Her eyes flickered toward Rava’s, holding her gaze. Then, with an obvious weight in her voice, she continued, “He is an ally.”

Rava froze, the words sinking in like ice water, leaving her stunned and confused. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t process. Her entire being had been wired to destroy Aegis—all of them. But this woman, the one who had her wrist held so firmly, was telling her that Caelum wasn’t her enemy. That he was an ally.

The very idea seemed foreign to her, alien. A clash of instincts and reason.

“Ally?” Rava muttered again, her voice laced with skepticism, the word leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “You expect me to believe that?”

The woman before her didn’t flinch, though her features hardened with a touch of pain, like the admission itself was a burden. She stepped closer, her presence calm but firm. “As painful as it is to admit, yes. He helped me escape captivity, a little bit. He wore their colours to fool them. Not an enemy.”

Rava’s claws dug into the snow beneath her feet, her chest tightening with the weight of this new information. Her mind buzzed, thoughts racing through her head like a wild storm. She couldn’t reconcile the image of Caelum as an ally, especially not with everything she’d been taught to believe about Aegis and their treachery.

“Sounds like we need to have a chat before we do any more fighting!” Tarric’s voice cut through the tension, lighthearted and casual, as if the world wasn’t about to unravel around them. He strolled forward, a cocky grin stretching across his face. “Hello again, Vivienne!”

Vivienne rolled her eyes but smirked in return. “Hello. Been keeping busy?”

Tarric shrugged nonchalantly, his hands in his pockets as he rocked on his heels. “Oh, like you wouldn’t believe. My baby sister here got conked on the head pretty badly—can’t seem to remember anything, so I have been looking after her for the past week.”

Vivienne’s smile faded. “It was worse than that,” she said, her voice dropping slightly. “But I think we should move on first. Would be best to get the goblins somewhere warm.” She nodded toward the small group, their breath visible in the frigid air, their shivers betraying the cold they were trying to ignore.

Rava’s sharp gaze flicked between the two, her anger still simmering beneath the surface, though it was tempered by the confusion swirling inside her. “What now?” she asked, her voice low but tight with tension.

“We get the goblins settled somewhere warm and then—” Vivienne paused, glancing back at Tarric, the weight of the decision hanging heavy in the air. “Then we talk. There’s a lot to clear up.”

Tarric raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness. “Ah, sounds like my sister’s got her work cut out for her. But I think we can handle it.”

Rava crossed her arms over her chest, her mind still a whirlwind. "Fine.”

Vivienne sighed, walking past Rava and casting her a quick glance. “You’ve been through a lot. We’ll figure it out.” There was a note of reassurance in her voice, but underneath it, a quiet uncertainty lingered.

Rava glared daggers at Caelum, her sharp eyes narrowing as she watched him stand there, his calm demeanor rubbing her raw. Her fists clenched at her sides, the urge to lash out almost overwhelming, but she didn’t protest further. Instead, she stood rigid, her gaze fixed on the paladin as if willing him to drop dead on the spot. She was torn between wanting to run him through with her claws and the gnawing need to understand—understand why the woman she had once shared everything with had chosen him as an ally. It felt like betrayal, sharp and bitter, and it made her skin crawl.

Vivienne moved past her, heading toward the scattered goblins, each of them nervously huddling together in the snow. Rava’s gaze flicked toward the familiar sight, the small creatures so often by her side. They were huddling for warmth, their eyes darting from her to the others, their instincts telling them to stay close to safety. Rava’s lips twisted into a scowl. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for them, but the tug of conflicting emotions overpowered anything resembling patience.

She watched Vivienne kneel down, her soft hands gathering the goblins up as she murmured reassurances, her voice soothing. For a brief moment, Rava found herself remembering how easy it had been before, how simple their lives had seemed. But now, as she stood there, trapped between past loyalties and present confusion, everything seemed clouded in a fog she couldn’t seem to clear.

Tarric’s voice cut through her thoughts, a pleasant hum of conversation in the background as he began chatting casually with Caelum. His tone was friendly, almost too lighthearted for the weight of the situation. The paladin responded with an almost equal ease, and Rava could see the thin veil of camaraderie that settled over them. It made her stomach churn. Tarric, the ever-charming diplomat, was making peace with someone she couldn’t begin to trust. The fact that he could do it so effortlessly only made her irritation worse.

Storm, she corrected herself mentally. Storm wasn't Rava anymore, though the name still stuck to her like an old scar. She was fighting against her past, fighting against everything she'd known—fighting against herself.

Rava’s gaze returned to the group, her eyes flitting over each of the goblins, her thoughts drifting. She hated thinking. It always brought up things she didn’t want to confront—things about herself, about her past, about the way she had acted, the things she had done. It was easier to ignore it all, to focus on the present, on the fight. But the longer she stood there, the harder it became to avoid the question that gnawed at her insides: Who was she really now?

The thoughts dug into her skull, prickling like an itch she couldn’t reach. She gritted her teeth, the pressure building behind her eyes. She wanted to roar, to tear something apart, anything to drown out the suffocating silence of her own mind. But all she could do was stand there, fists trembling at her sides, and think.

And she hated it.

After everyone was gathered, they made their way back to the village before dusk set, the sky bruising into deep purples and oranges as the last traces of daylight faded beyond the mountains. The air was crisp, the kind that sank into the bones and made every breath sharp. Rava—Storm—sat on a bench against the wall of the inn’s main hall, her arms crossed over her chest, posture tense as she watched the goblins situate themselves near the fire. They chattered amongst themselves in low voices, their small bodies huddling close to the flames, reveling in the warmth after too long in the cold.

Vivienne had gone off to hunt, something about getting them real food instead of whatever dried scraps the inn might offer. Rava had insisted on going with her, but the woman had denied her with a casual wave of her hand and that ever-present smirk. You’ll scare off the prey, sweetheart.

It rankled. She could be stealthy.

She didn’t know why it frustrated her so much, only that it did. That same gnawing tension had been building in her since the fight, since she had seen Vivienne for the first time, since she had been pulled away from the moment of bloodlust she so desperately wanted to indulge in. She had been denied her violence. Denied the satisfaction of striking something down, of tearing through an enemy until her instincts stopped screaming at her. It left her pent-up, restless, her muscles coiled like a spring with nowhere to release.

Her gaze flickered toward the other side of the room where Caelum and Tarric sat together, the two of them deep in conversation. They had been talking ever since they met in the pass earlier, and while she still didn’t trust the paladin, Tarric clearly did. Rava’s scowl deepened as she studied him. Aegis. Even if he wasn’t with them anymore, the mere fact that he had once worn their colors made her wary. But if Tarric, of all people, was vouching for him, then…

She exhaled sharply through her nose. Probably alright, she begrudgingly admitted. Tarric wasn’t stupid, even if he looked like an easy mark. She had spent enough time with him to know he had a damn good head on his shoulders—smarter than her, even. Book smart, at least.

Still, she kept an eye on Caelum, watching for the slightest reason to gut him.

They spoke quietly, but Rava had good hearing and an even better nose. She didn’t have to strain to catch their words, though she only half-listened, keeping her gaze fixed on the flames while her ears twitched toward the conversation.

“...Yes. That’s part of why I wanted to join hands. I can’t do it alone,” Caelum murmured, his voice steady but weighted with something unspoken.

“That is worrying.” Tarric sounded thoughtful rather than alarmed, which was typical. The man always took bad news like an engineer assessing a broken machine—calculating, methodical. “I’ll need to make some other preparations and perhaps design a few more spells.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Caelum said. “Hopefully, my friends made it to Serkoth. I badly want to see them again.”

“Well, let’s just hope for the best. We might not be in the best position for a counter-invasion just yet, but Serkoth has never fallen. If they made it, they will be safe.” Tarric tapped a finger against the table. “I can get my older brother, Narek, to look out for them. He has informants all over the city.”

Caelum’s shoulders eased slightly. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate having another champion on our side. That being said, it’s probably best you keep that to yourself. It makes you a bigger target—unless you’re my mother, in which case you’re the biggest and toughest target.”

Caelum huffed a quiet laugh. “Is she really that strong?”

Tarric grinned. “Some of the titans fear her.”

They shifted to lighter topics after that, their voices becoming less urgent. Rava tuned them out, deciding there was nothing immediately useful in their discussion—besides the fact that Caelum was apparently a champion, whatever that entailed.

Instead, her attention drifted to a pair sitting near the fire, nestled among the goblins.

One was a mannequin—not a person, not a creature, but an actual, animated mannequin. Its smooth, pale surface was featureless, giving it an eerie, lifeless quality despite the way it moved. It wore a strange dress, something caught between the elegant finery of the women Rava had hired to sate her needs and the crisp, subdued attire of the servants who worked the clanhall.

But it wasn’t the mannequin that unsettled her.

It was what it cradled in its arms.

A child.

The girl wasn’t just any child.

She couldn’t have been older than five or six, but her light gray skin, the cascade of messy black hair, and, most of all, the quintet of eyes lining her face made her resemblance unmistakable.

She looked like Vivienne.

Her daughter.

Rava frowned, a sudden tension winding through her limbs. Did that mean Vivienne already had a mate?

No. That didn’t make sense.

Vivienne had thrown herself at Rava when they met—without hesitation, without restraint.

Unless her previous mate wasn’t satisfying.

Or…

Her heart pounded faster as another thought slithered into her mind.

What if I was her mate?

The idea sent a strange shiver down her spine. She had no memory of it, but her memory was a tangled, fractured mess, and ever since she had first laid eyes on Vivienne, that pull had been there—deep, instinctual, right.

If that was the case… was the girl her daughter too?

She studied the child more closely. Her small frame didn’t stir, even as the goblins whispered and shifted around her. Her eyes were open, but she hadn’t moved since Rava first noticed her.

Why isn’t she moving?

Rava rose from the bench and approached the duo with careful, measured steps. The mannequin’s head lifted, its featureless face—smooth, pale, and uncomfortably artificial—turning toward her. A single metal-stapled seam ran down its length, the only break in its otherwise blank surface.

“Gre-etings, Rava. It is go-od to see you again.” The automaton’s voice was fractured, stilted, breaking apart in unnatural pauses.

Rava tensed.

“Yeah. Thought you were dead or something,” a voice chimed in.

One of the goblins had leaned into the conversation, resting her bony elbows on her knees. She was small, even for a goblin, with ears so large they nearly matched the length of her scrawny arms. Her wide green eyes flicked up at Rava, unimpressed.

Rava narrowed her gaze. “Who are you?”

The goblin blinked. Then, with a sigh so exaggerated it nearly knocked her off balance, she groaned, “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

The goblin rolled her eyes so hard her whole head moved with the motion. “You really went through it, huh? Does the name ‘Kivvy’ remind you of anything?”

Rava frowned, her features scrunching as she dug through the haze in her head. The name struck something—distant, foggy, but there. “I think so.”

“Well, good that you’re back. Vivi has… uhh, not been doing well since you disappeared.”

Rava’s ears twitched. That caught her interest. “How?”

Kivvy scratched at her cheek. “Well… she was always kind of, y’know, a bloodthirsty monster. But she got a bit meaner. I think. Maybe she hasn’t changed and just doesn’t hide it anymore.” A pause. “Don’t think it’s that, though.”

“Sure.”

“Wow, you’re even less talkative now!”

Rava shot Kivvy a glare, sharp enough to gut something, but the goblin barely blinked.

“I’ve known Vivi for several months, Rava. You’re not gonna scare me,” Kivvy said, waving a hand dismissively. “Seriously, what happened to you? You’re acting way different.”

“Don’t know.”

“Riiiight.” Kivvy drew out the word, skepticism thick in her tone.

Rava ignored her and pointed at the child cradled in the mannequin’s arms. “Who is that?”

Kivvy’s expression darkened, the teasing edge gone. “Liora,” she said. “Vivienne’s daughter.”

Something cold settled in Rava’s stomach. The girl barely moved, her chest rising and falling so faintly it was hard to tell if she was breathing at all. Her five black eyes were half-lidded, staring at nothing.

“She… didn’t really survive captivity,” Kivvy admitted, voice quieter now. “Far as I know, they starved her for a month and a half.”

Rava’s frown deepened. “She’s alive.”

“Yeah, but it’s like… she’s not quite in there anymore.” Kivvy’s ears twitched, her voice tinged with something hard to place—anger, maybe, or guilt. “I think she’s getting better, though. She’s made some small movements.”

Rava let the information settle, her hands clenching into fists. “Who did it?”

Kivvy didn’t hesitate. “Who d’you think? Aegis clergy.” Her lip curled in disgust. “They captured Vivi and Liora, kept them locked up for a while.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbled through Rava’s chest. They had starved a child. Left her hollow.

Her claws flexed.

She already wanted Aegis dead. Now she would make sure they suffered first.

“I get it. The Sovereignty is filled to the brim with bastards, but mind not scaring my sisters? They got it bad enough with Vivi.” 

Rava relaxed though the anger didn’t abide. “Fine.”

“The yo-ung miss-tress has be-en making pro-gress,” the mannequin said, its voice breaking unnaturally over the syllables. “She eats wi-th less assist-ance than be-fore.”

Kivvy patted the ground beside her. “Sit, you big brute. Tell me what you’ve been doing since we were captured.”

Rava hesitated. Talking wasn’t her strong suit. But Kivvy knew the before-her—the her she couldn’t seem to grasp. Maybe there was something useful to gain from this. She shifted her weight, ready to drop onto the floor—

The door slammed open, rattling the walls.

Vivienne strode in, her claws gripping thick slabs of bloody meat, fresh enough that crimson still dripped onto the wooden floorboards. Her gaze swept the room, her five black eyes taking in the gathered figures before she huffed.

“Someone cook these. You all can have them.” She tossed the meat onto a nearby table with a wet thud.

Rava’s nose twitched. She caught the scent before she saw it—the rich, metallic tang of fresh blood. But more than that, she smelled her.

Vivienne’s lips glistened red. A smear of blood trailed from the corner of her mouth down her chin.

Rava’s ears flicked. Vivienne had taken the best parts for herself.

Smart.

One of the goblins scampered over, eyeing the meat hesitantly before grabbing a slab. "I'll cook 'em up." She shot a timid look at Vivienne, who just raised a brow and licked the blood from her lips with slow, deliberate intent.

The goblin averted her eyes and dragged the meat toward the fire.

Vivienne stretched, rolling her shoulders before slumping into a chair like she weighed twice as much as she did. The wood creaked beneath her. Her gaze flicked to Rava, then to Liora, lingering a little longer than necessary. She said nothing.

Rava didn’t either.

"Bring her to me, sweetheart." Vivienne's voice was low, smooth, commanding.

Renzia—her mannequin, still as lifeless as ever—obeyed without hesitation, moving as though the very air directed her motions. With delicate hands, she transferred Liora into Vivienne's arms, a gentle gesture that contrasted with the usual harshness of the world around them.

Vivienne held the girl close, her massive claws soft as they supported the fragile form. Liora's small body seemed even more fragile in Vivienne's arms, her head lolling slightly as if she were too weak to hold it upright. The sight was tender, impossibly so, and Rava couldn’t tear her gaze away. The way Vivienne looked at the child, her eyes filled with a mix of protectiveness and affection—it was an unsettling warmth in contrast to the brutal figure Rava knew. She couldn’t quite name the sensation that stirred deep within her, but it was undeniable. There was something there. Something almost—right.

Rava swallowed hard, her tail flicking restlessly behind her. Without thinking, she asked, “Are we mated?”

Kivvy, who had been sipping water, promptly choked on it, sputtering and coughing as it went down the wrong way. She slapped her chest with a fist, looking like she might have been about to laugh but then saw the tension in the room and wisely quieted.

Vivienne, however, barely batted an eye. She just arched a brow, a faint trace of amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. “It was a recent development before you… disappeared. But I would think so.”

Rava felt the words settle in her chest, heavy and strange. She wasn’t sure what she expected—maybe some fierce confirmation, something more solid. But this felt like an answer that was both a beginning and an end at once.

She turned her attention to Liora, her curiosity now demanding more answers. Her clawed hand pointed toward the little girl still nestled in Vivienne’s arms. “Is she ours then?” she asked, the words sharp, tinged with something that felt like a challenge.

Vivienne’s face softened as she looked down at the child in her arms. There was an affection there that was undeniable, but when she spoke, her voice was steady, almost distant. “No,” she said, her words hanging in the air, weighty. “She is mine.”

Rava’s heart seemed to stumble in her chest. Her tail flicked once more, sharper now, betraying a flash of irritation that she couldn’t quite tamp down. That shouldn’t have hurt, should it? It didn’t make sense.

"Who's the other then? Your other mate?" Rava's voice was rough, a mix of curiosity and something else she couldn't quite place. The words came out before she could stop them, the question slipping from her lips like it had been there all along.

Vivienne's expression didn’t shift. She remained calm, even in the face of Rava's pointed inquiry. Her eyes softened slightly, a quiet acknowledgment that only Rava could sense. "There is none. You were there for it," she said, her voice steady, though there was something almost wistful in it. "She is born from my flesh alone."

Rava frowned, processing that answer. It didn’t fully satisfy her, not when so much about Vivienne and Liora was shrouded in mystery. But Vivienne’s tone suggested it wasn’t a conversation for now, not when the child was still in her arms, fragile and delicate.

Vivienne hesitated, then added, her gaze flicking toward the child again, "Though that raises a good question, one I have thought about for a while."

Before Rava could press further, the air shifted, the sound of footsteps barely audible against the crunch of the gravel underfoot. Tarric appeared almost out of nowhere, his small figure stepping into their circle with the grace of someone who had been standing just out of sight. His eyes sparkled with curiosity as he looked between the two women, his face eager.

“I am actually fascinated to know too!” he chimed in, his voice high-pitched and bright, though laced with a hint of surprise. “She looks just like you. I didn’t know aetherbeasts could even have children!”

Vivienne gave him a glance, her brow lifting in amusement, but she didn’t speak at first, letting the question linger in the air. Rava’s gaze shifted from Tarric to Vivienne, watching the way Vivienne's hands gently adjusted Liora in her arms. The child looked like a smaller version of Vivienne, a near mirror image, but with an unsettling stillness about her.

“Typically, I don’t think they can,” Vivienne finally replied, her voice low, almost contemplative. “Not in the traditional sense, anyway.” She shifted her weight, the subtle movement drawing Rava’s attention. “Liora isn’t typical either, though I have a theory on the how.”

Rava’s eyes narrowed slightly, her instinct to dig deeper overriding the trepidation that had been growing in her chest. “What theory?” she asked, her tone more curious now, the urgency in her voice hard to hide.

“I’m no scholar, but from what I know of myself—which, frankly, is less than you might think—Aetherbeasts aren’t even really alive,” Vivienne continued, her voice thoughtful, distant. “They are energy given form from fractured souls. The main difference with me is that I’m a complete soul—or mostly complete. I might be missing a few pieces, but that’s another matter.”

Tarric furrowed his brow, flipping open his journal, his quill ready. He scribbled something quickly, pausing to look up at Vivienne. “That... makes sense. Aetherbeasts don’t typically hunt animals, but they do hunt intelligent people, often with reckless abandon.”

Vivienne gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, her dark eyes gleaming. “Yeah, that’s my thought too. It’s like they’re drawn to it. To the essence of life, or perhaps to something else they can’t even understand.”

“How do you know what they are?” Tarric asked, his voice carrying both curiosity and a hint of disbelief as he leaned forward, clearly intrigued.

Vivienne's lips curved into a faint, mysterious smile as she met his gaze. “Because when I eat aetherbeasts, I gain a few things from them,” she said, almost casually, but with an underlying weight to her words. “The first thing is a sort of... blueprint, or schematic of their design. I can use it for myself, adapt it. And the second is the fractured memories that make them up. I don’t know if that’s just echoes of the people that once were, or if they are actual souls, but I gain these fragments and... store them inside me, after reliving those moments first.”

Tarric’s quill hovered above the paper for a moment before his eyes widened, a stunned expression overtaking his features. “So Liora is possibly a coalescence of these fragments. The only reason aetherbeasts don’t seem to reproduce normally is because they only hunt people?” His voice held the awe of someone trying to understand a profound concept, unsure whether to be awestruck or frightened.

Vivienne’s smirk deepened, her eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction. “That's what I think.”

Tarric stared at her, his quill still frozen in mid-air. "I think you are a genius!" he exclaimed, the words practically tumbling out of him. “Did you study under anyone? But then again, you are an aetherbeast…”

Vivienne chuckled lightly, the sound soft, almost as if she were amused by the simplicity of the question. “I did study at university,” she said, her tone light but laced with something more. “Though my qualifications from there are less than useless here.”

Tarric blinked, processing her words, a sudden furrow appearing on his brow. “How so?”

Vivienne leaned back slightly, letting out a soft sigh. Her eyes wandered toward the horizon, the faintest hint of nostalgia flickering across her features. “Do you know what a computer is?”

Tarric’s quill paused again, his brow knitting with confusion. “A... computer?” he repeated slowly, as if the word itself was alien to him. "Is that some sort of... magical artifact?"

Vivienne gave a small, dry smile, as if she were humoring him. “Not quite. It’s a machine. A tool for processing information. In my world, it’s the cornerstone of knowledge, research, communication. They don’t exist here.”

Tarric blinked, struggling to wrap his mind around the implications. “Ah, mother mentioned you were from her world.”

“Indeed,” Vivienne replied with a faint nod, her voice carrying an almost wistful tone. “Though I’m pretty sure we lived our lives there more than a thousand years apart. We are getting off track here, but that’s all I know for now. I can’t confirm any of this, of course, but that’s my theory, at least. I know what aetherbeasts are, but I do not know why aetherbeasts are.”

Before Tarric could respond, a voice broke through the tension.

“Vivi, you are fucking weird.” Kivvy interjected, her voice laced with amusement, as if the truth of the situation had just been too much to bear.

Vivienne glanced at her, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’ve been called worse,” she replied nonchalantly.

Rava observed the exchange, her mind still racing to make sense of what Vivienne had revealed. The fragments of her story, though incomplete, painted a picture that was at once mind-boggling and deeply human. Vivienne wasn’t just an aetherbeast—she was something far more complex, a being caught between worlds, both literally and metaphorically.

Tarric let out a short laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “I suppose that’s true,” he said, still jotting down notes in his journal. “But still, all of this... it’s incredible. Aetherbeasts, time travel, lost knowledge… You’re basically an anomaly, Vivi.”

“Oh I don’t think we are familiar enough yet for nicknames, Twilight Fang.”

Tarric just laughed.