Mother of Midnight

Chapter 230 – A Day with Mommy

Liora watched the goblins chatter among themselves, their voices a lively hum that filled the room. She liked them—a lot. They were small like her, though they could move, talk, and laugh in ways she still couldn’t. She wished she could join them, to play, to speak, to do anything at all.

But her body remained still. Trapped. Silent.

It made Mommy really sad. Liora could see it in the way Mommy held her, how she cradled her so gently, like she might break. Sometimes, Mommy whispered soft words to her, promises of safety, of finding a way to help her. Liora didn’t understand everything, but she understood that Mommy was worried.

But when she could move her eyes—just a little—Mommy would smile. And that made her happy.

She liked it when Mommy was happy.

The goblins didn’t seem to mind that she couldn’t talk. They still chattered around her, sometimes glancing her way with curiosity but never with fear. She liked that too. They felt safe. Warm.

Not like the bad people.

Liora didn’t want to think about them, but the memories lurked in the back of her mind, waiting. If she let them in, they would swallow her whole, dragging her back to that cold, empty place where she had no name, no warmth, no hope.

She didn’t want to remember the hands that hurt—cold, sharp, uncaring. They took things from her, things she didn’t understand, things that left her feeling less and less like herself. She didn’t want to remember the voices that never spoke kindly, that only barked orders or whispered cruel things, treating her like something broken.

She was always hungry. They didn’t let her eat at all.

She had cried at first. For Mommy. For help. For anything.

But after a while, the tears stopped coming.

And after a while after that, Liora stopped moving.

She had lost all hope.

The bad people would bring her to Mommy sometimes. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was a test. Maybe it was a game. But every time they did, Mommy got really, really angry. They just watched her be really angry for a while while she was in the cage they never let her out of. 

Then they took me away again.

They thought that meant Mommy wanted to hurt her.

That was wrong, of course.

Mommy would never hurt Liora.

Mommy carried her everywhere now, holding her close, keeping her safe. Liora loved it. She loved the warmth of Mommy’s arms, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the way Mommy’s hand would sometimes brush over her hair in a soft, absentminded motion. Even though she still couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, she could feel Mommy’s love. And that was enough.

She never wanted to be put down.

Across the room, one of the goblins suddenly scrambled up onto her seat, wobbling a little before finding her balance. Then, she started to sing.

Liora knew her name. Yuni.

Yuni’s voice wasn’t very good—too high, sometimes scratchy, and she kept forgetting words. But that didn’t seem to matter. She was having fun, swaying side to side, her sisters laughing and clapping along.

Liora liked Yuni. Yuni was really nice.

Back when they were running from the bad people, when everything was scary and uncertain, Yuni had helped her. She had let Liora eat from her a few times, offering what little she could. It hadn’t been much, but it had meant everything.

Liora wanted to tell her thank you. She wanted to sing along, to move, to laugh with them.

But all she could do was listen.

They ate like they were as hungry as she was. Goblins, Aunty Rava, even the pretty wolf man—everyone tearing into their food with the same kind of desperate hunger. Plates piled high with roasted meat, fresh bread, and whatever else they had managed to scavenge. Liora watched them, fascinated. She liked watching people eat. It was comforting in a way she couldn’t explain, like things were normal, like they were safe.

The pretty wolf man was there too, sitting with the human they traveled with. Caelum, she remembered. He was really nice, always smiling at her, always talking in a soft, patient voice. She liked him, she thought—but she didn’t know what to think yet.

Mommy didn’t seem to like him very much.

But she didn’t eat him, so he was probably okay.

Aunty Rava sat beside Mommy, chewing on a chunk of meat. She looked different now—bigger, stronger, not so scarred anymore. And her eyes… Liora loved her eyes. Bright, glowing blue, almost too sharp, too intense. She wished she could tell her that, but all she could do was watch as Rava turned those pretty eyes on her.

“Isn’t she going to eat?” Rava asked, her voice rough, edged with something Liora couldn’t quite name.

Aunty Rava was really different now. She always looked a little angry, even when she wasn’t. And she didn’t remember Liora. That made her a little sad.

Apparently, she had trouble remembering things after the scary fight at Drakthar.

Mommy didn’t seem bothered by the question. She answered simply, like she had before.

“She can only eat aether, remember? I told you a few nights ago.”

Liora wished she could eat like everyone else. She wanted to like food the way they did, to taste it, to share in their excitement when something was especially good. But when she tried, it was just… yucky.

She needed aether.

That was just how it was.

She hoped Mommy would get her a bigger meal soon. The little bits of aether she got from the goblins helped, but not enough. It was like trying to drink from a leaky cup—just enough to keep her from fading completely, just enough to let her move her eyes, sometimes even twitch her claws if she focused really hard. But nothing more.

Still, she was grateful.

Liora watched Aunty Rava for a little while longer. She was still getting used to the new her—bigger, stronger, always a little tense. But she was still Aunty Rava. Liora could feel it, even if she didn’t remember her.

One of the goblins—Yuni—was still singing, her voice rising and falling with cheerful, off-key enthusiasm. The other goblins clapped along, laughing as they ate. Liora liked the sound of it. It made the room feel warm, full.

Mommy’s arms shifted slightly, adjusting her hold on Liora, and she felt the steady, reassuring weight of her hand on her back. That was her favorite part of being carried—Mommy was always there, always keeping her safe.

She wished she could move more. She wished she could sing with Yuni and clap along with the others. She wished she could eat like them and sit at the table instead of being carried everywhere. But more than anything, she wished she could hug Mommy back.

For now, she just focused on the small things. Moving her eyes. Twitching her claws. Feeling the warmth of Mommy’s touch.

And waiting.

Tonight, Mommy had asked if one of the people who worked here would let Liora eat from them. She had been so polite, her voice soft and sweet, just like always. But most of them ran away before she could even finish speaking. Others stammered out a quick, nervous "No" before fleeing down the halls.

Liora didn’t understand why.

Mommy wasn’t scary. Well… she could be, but not right now. She wasn’t growling, or baring her teeth, or making threats. She was just asking. Nicely, even.

But people were still afraid.

It made Liora feel sad. If she could, she would tell them that Mommy wasn’t bad. That she was kind and loving and warm. That she carried her everywhere and held her close, always making sure she was okay. But she couldn’t.

Then, one lady finally agreed.

Liora felt a strange little flutter of relief, even if she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she was so hungry. Maybe because she was tired of people running away from Mommy.

Mommy recognized the lady. Her black eyes gleamed with something knowing, and when she smiled, the lady's cheeks went red.

Liora didn’t quite understand what that meant, but she had seen it before. It usually happened when people stared at Mommy too long, when their voices got quiet and they started acting nervous. Like that one human who kept looking at her funny. They didn’t run but they didn't look at mommy for too long either.

Liora wasn’t sure what it was, but it didn’t really matter.

What mattered was that tonight, she was finally going to get a proper meal!

Mommy carried her through the halls, following the lekine woman as she led them to the servants' quarters. Apparently, this was where all the people who took care of the clanhall slept. Liora didn’t know why they all had to stay in one place, but it didn’t seem too bad. It was warm, and she could hear the soft sounds of breathing and quiet murmurs as people settled in for the night.

The woman guided them into a large room filled with rows of beds, some occupied, some empty. The dim lighting cast long shadows, and the gentle rustling of blankets filled the air. It smelled different here—like soap and old wood, like tired people who had worked all day.

Liora’s eyes drifted over the sleeping forms, her hunger gnawing at her insides. So many people, so much aether just waiting there, untouched. She didn’t mean to think like that, but she was so, so hungry.

She wanted to eat from all of them.

She wasn’t sure if she could eat that much, but she wanted to try. Just a little bit from each, so they wouldn’t miss it. Just enough so she could move again.

But Mommy wouldn’t let her do that.

Liora knew that, even before Mommy gave her that quiet, knowing squeeze. It was the kind that meant be patient, sweetheart. The kind that told her Mommy understood, but they had to do things the right way.

So Liora stayed still in her arms, waiting as Mommy turned to the lekine woman, her voice sweet and soothing as she spoke.

The servant lady slipped beneath her blankets, her breathing evening out as sleep took hold. Mommy waited, holding Liora close, her claws gently tracing slow, soothing patterns along Liora’s back. Then, without a word, Mommy’s presence shifted—something unseen but felt pressing down into the air around them.

The woman’s face twitched. Her breaths hitched. A soft whimper slipped from her lips as her body tensed, her fingers curling against the fabric of the blanket.

Mommy was making her dream.

Liora could taste it.

Dark tendrils of unease coiled through the air, invisible but rich with flavor, sinking into the woman’s sleeping mind. Fear, confusion, helplessness—Mommy weaved it all so effortlessly, molding the dream into something potent, something delicious.

Liora had tried making bad dreams before, but they were weak and thin, like watered-down broth. They barely even flavored the aether she fed on. But Mommy’s dreams?

They were thick and rich.

They seeped into the sleeper’s mind like ink into water, swirling deep and strong, filling every corner. They tasted full, rich, and heavy—like a proper meal instead of tiny scraps.

Mommy took Liora’s small, delicate hand in her own and guided it to the servant lady’s forehead. The moment their skin touched, a pulse of warmth surged up Liora’s arm, rich and full.

She could feel it now—really feel it. The steady thrum of the woman’s life, the ebb and flow of her dreams, the thick, heavy weight of her aether. It was nothing like the little trickles she got from the goblins. This was so much more.

A delighted shiver ran through her. She didn't even have to try. The aether came to her, welcomed her, flowing into her like water rushing to fill an empty cup.

It was warm. Comforting. Delicious.

She drank greedily, drawing it in as fast as she could. The aching emptiness inside her, the gnawing hunger that never truly faded, eased with every passing second. It filled her, spreading through her like golden sunlight breaking through the dark.

This was what she needed. This was what would make her better.

Her claws twitched. Her fingers moved.

Excitement bubbled in her chest. She wanted to laugh, to tell Mommy Look! I’m getting stronger! but she couldn’t—not yet.

Soon, though.

Soon, she’d move again.

Soon, she’d talk again.

And when she did, she’d tell Mommy just how happy she was.

The next day, Mommy took Liora into the city.

She hadn’t gotten a good look at it when they first arrived, but now she could see just how big it was. Way bigger than Drakthar. The streets stretched out endlessly, packed with so many people, more than she had ever seen in one place before. People moved in groups, talking, laughing, arguing, and rushing to wherever they were going. The buildings here were different, too—lots of them were made of wood instead of stone, and the stone they did use was a pale color, almost like old bones.

But even with all those people, no one got in their way.

The moment Mommy stepped forward, the crowd seemed to shift. People glanced at her, their eyes going wide before they quickly looked away. Others took a few steps back, pretending not to notice, their hands tightening on the straps of their bags or the arms of their children. Some whispered, some simply turned and walked faster. The reaction was always the same—keep your distance.

That made it easy for Mommy to walk through the city without trouble.

As they moved, Mommy told Liora things about the city. She talked about the markets, about how people bartered and sold goods, about how some merchants tried to trick others into paying too much. She talked about the different kinds of people who lived here, from the rich who barely had to work to the poor who fought to survive. Then she mentioned something about the seedy underbelly

, whatever that meant. It sounded important, but Liora didn’t know what was under anyone’s belly except their legs, so it didn’t make much sense to her.Eventually, they stepped inside a small shop, and a little bell rang as the door swung open. The scent of old paper and ink filled the air, thick and warm like a blanket. Books lined the shelves, stacked high in neat rows, some of them open on nearby tables. The walls were covered in faded parchment, notes and posters and strange symbols she didn’t understand.

Liora liked it here. It felt calm. Safe, in a way that most places didn’t.

She wondered if Mommy would teach her how to read when she could move again. It seemed really hard, but if anyone could teach her, Mommy could.

“Mizzra,” Mommy said.

Liora flicked her gaze to the side, trying to see who she was talking to, but she couldn’t quite catch them from her angle.

“Ah, Vivienne. A pleasure to see you again.” The voice was smooth and confident, with a little lilt at the end, like the person was always just a little amused. “And who have you brought along with you?”

“My daughter, Liora.”

Mommy turned slightly so Liora could finally see.

The person in front of them was really short and green—so she was probably a goblin. She had huge pointy ears that twitched slightly as she adjusted the big, rounded spectacles on her cute button nose. Her bright blue eyes were sharp behind the glass, glinting with intelligence. She had a tidy look to her, like someone who always made sure their clothes were neat and their things were in order. Even the way she stood had a kind of careful confidence.

“She is very cute,” Mizzra said with an approving nod, her lips curving into a small smile.

Liora felt a little burst of warmth at the words.

“Are you here about those projects?”

Mommy nodded. “Yeah. I’m hoping to get myself a home for me and my daughter, and I need funds to make that happen.”

Mizzra’s smile shifted into something cooler, more businesslike. “Yes. That steam engine will take longer, but we have already prototyped and finalized the printing press, as you called it. We have sold several already.”

“That was fast.” Mommy’s tone was pleased. “The more books in the world, the better.”

Mizzra chuckled softly. “Goblins work very fast when we want to, and I can agree with that.”

She turned and walked toward a desk cluttered with neatly stacked papers, reaching for a ledger.

“Now, for your share of each sale—these are being sold at one hundred and fifty gold a piece, so how does one part in ten sound?”

Mommy grinned.

The big grin.

Liora couldn’t see it from her position, but she knew it was the one where her whole mouth cracked open, showing all of her teeth—rows and rows of razor-sharp needles, gleaming dark and wet.

Mizzra flinched. Her cool demeanor cracked for just a moment before she quickly cleared her throat and adjusted her spectacles.

“Actually,” the goblin said, voice a little more careful, “since you brought the idea to us, how about two parts in ten?”

Mommy shrugged. “I’m fine with that too.”

Mizzra hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly on the counter, before her polite smile returned. “Then wait here. I’ll get your share.”

She stepped away, disappearing out of Liora’s field of view. A few moments later, she returned carrying a small, heavy-looking chest. When she set it down on the desk and flipped it open, the gold inside gleamed in the soft light of the shop.

Liora’s eyes widened.

There was so much gold in there.

“One hundred and eighty gold,” Mizzra said, adjusting her glasses again. “I had to dip into my own funds to pay it, since I didn’t know what share you’d be taking, so I need a contract from you so I can get my funds back.”

Mommy just nodded. “Understandable.”

Mizzra ducked under the counter, rummaging for a moment before emerging with a neatly rolled piece of parchment, an ink pot, and a quill. She set them down on the counter with practiced precision, uncorking the ink with a small pop.

Mommy picked up the quill, turning it between her fingers. Her expression flickered with something unreadable before she arched a brow.

“Do you not have any pens?” she asked.

Mizzra blinked at her, then let out a soft chuckle. “Could you tell me what a pen is?”

Mommy hummed, tilting her head slightly in thought. “A writing instrument,” she said slowly. “There are many types, though I doubt you could do ballpoint… but I could offer an idea on the fountain pen. It’s much easier to write with than a quill. No need to constantly dip it in ink, and it lasts much longer if it’s taken care of properly.”

Mizzra’s fingers twitched slightly, her ears perking as she adjusted her spectacles. “Tell me more.”

Mommy talked with the pretty goblin lady for a while, their voices weaving back and forth in a rhythm that Liora didn’t quite follow. They spoke about things she didn’t understand—numbers, contracts and something about distribution. It all blurred together, but Mommy seemed pleased, so that was enough for Liora.

Mizzra wrote things down with quick, practiced strokes, her big glasses catching the light as she glanced up every so often. Mommy signed something at the end, her long claws tapping the parchment as the ink dried. Then, with a final nod, Mizzra reached under the counter and pulled out a sturdy satchel, and filled it with gold coins that clinked together softly as she handed it over.

The streets were still busy, but people parted easily around Mommy as she walked, like the tide shifting away from a rock. Liora could feel the weight of the gold pressing against her side as Mommy carried her, each step bringing them closer to the clanhall.

Liora was so proud of her Mommy.