Mother of Midnight

Chapter 232 – Leave Me Be

Vivienne was starving herself. It had been weeks since her last meal, when they’d broken free from the capital of Aegis. She could feel the hunger gnawing at her insides, but it wasn’t the same overpowering craving that once consumed her. It still lingered, a low, steady hum beneath the surface, but now, it was more manageable. Still, the thought of feeding on something—anything—tempted her more than it should.

The flesh of champions, especially, held a particular allure. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted, rich and full of power, satisfying in ways nothing else could compare to. The energy, the life force—it was intoxicating. And the memory of it still clung to her, teasing her senses whenever hunger crept close.

But this time, there was no indulgence. This was for Liora. She couldn’t lose herself, couldn’t risk the trust Korriva had placed in her. To betray that trust would be a dangerous game, one that could destroy everything she had worked so hard to build. Not just for herself, but for her daughter. It was a line she couldn’t cross. Not now. Not when she was so close.

Vivienne steadied herself, forcing her focus back to the task at hand. She was here for Liora—everything else could wait.

Cradling Liora gently in her arms, she moved silently through the halls, each step calculated, each breath carefully controlled. Her movements were fluid and quiet, almost catlike, as though she were a shadow passing through the darkened corridors. She deftly avoided the notice of the servants walking through and she was sure she was nearly spotted by a Massive broad man that absolutely radiated anxiety, though he seemed a bit confused and carried on going wherever he was going.

Vivienne stood before Korriva’s door, an unfamiliar, quiet anticipation rising within her. It was strange, not having met all of Korriva’s children yet. She had spent enough time around the clanhall that she presumed most of them would be living here, in this grand palace-like structure. Yet, here she was, about to intrude into Korriva’s private space, on a strange, personal mission.

There were no guards outside the door, which was both curious and unsurprising. Korriva, the most powerful woman on the land, didn’t need protection. Who could threaten someone like her? Her power, both innate and earned, would leave anyone foolish enough to challenge her in ruins.

Vivienne’s heart pounded, a quiet rhythm that matched the stillness of the night. She stepped forward, moving soundlessly. The door, heavy yet familiar to her touch, didn’t even creak when she nudged it open. She slipped inside as quietly as a shadow and closed it just as silently, the faintest whisper of a motion.

The room was dark, but Vivienne’s eyes had no trouble in the dark. She saw Korriva sleeping in her bed, her body relaxed, her breathing deep. It was strange, seeing the mighty woman so vulnerable. She was a formidable figure, one who rarely let her guard down. And yet, here she was, entirely unaware of Vivienne’s presence. The sight was oddly mesmerizing. A person’s vulnerability, their defenselessness in sleep, was something to be respected. But Vivienne didn’t think Korriva would see it that way. She was no mere mortal—her calmness in sleep seemed a reflection of her strength. No fear, no tension. Just the quiet hum of power, even in rest.

Vivienne couldn’t help but admire that in Korriva. Most people feared vulnerability, but the High Fang seemed untouchable, even while asleep.

Shaking her head, Vivienne steeled herself. This wasn’t the time to linger in admiration. She had a mission to complete.

She moved swiftly, approaching the bed and pausing for only a moment before her free arm shifted. It melted and reshaped into an inky, translucent tentacle, its edges curling in a fluid, almost liquid motion. 

With precision, she extended the dark tendril over Korriva’s form and began to worm it into her mind, inflicting nightmares, bringing images and sensations from deep within the woman’s psyche. Korriva didn’t stir. Not at first, at least. Vivienne narrowed her eyes and pushed harder, willing the nightmares to burrow deeper, to twist through Korriva’s defenses and bring something, anything, to the surface.

There was something intoxicating about it—something deeply satisfying in the way she could reach inside another person’s mind and shape their dreams into horrors. She couldn’t peer into Korriva’s thoughts directly, which was a pity. She would have loved to know what terrified Korriva most, what haunted her even in sleep. But the nightmares were enough for now.

Korriva’s face twitched. A small, involuntary grimace. The shift in her expression was subtle, but it was there, a crack in the armor of her otherwise stoic face. Vivienne felt a small spark of triumph. This was working. The High Fang’s deep, calm sleep was finally disturbed.

Her grip tightened on Liora, holding the child closer, as if that connection might help fuel the process. The nightmares began to grow darker, more vivid, laced with her own twisted imaginings. Her focus narrowed, fixating on Korriva’s mind, pushing deeper.

Then, a slight furrow of Korriva’s brow. It was a strange thing to see on a face so far removed from human—so powerful and alien. But there it was. Something like discomfort, pain, or perhaps the faintest glimpse of fear.

Vivienne didn’t stop. She pressed harder, reaching deeper into the woman’s psyche, savoring the moment, even as the hunger in her twisted, the darkness of it licking at her thoughts, urging her to take. 

She held herself steady, her breath shallow as she watched the pulse of energy flow through the room. The temptation was almost unbearable, a gnawing hunger that still lingered in her bones, urging her to give in. To taste Korriva’s strength for herself, just a small piece, just a moment of indulgence. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, she focused on Liora, her daughter, the reason for everything. The reason she had endured so much, and yet, there was still so much more to be done. With quiet determination, Vivienne placed her daughter’s small, delicate claw on Korriva’s arm, her fingers brushing against the sleeping woman’s skin. Liora’s touch was soft, almost fragile, but it held an immense potential within it, a current of power waiting to be harnessed.

As the tiny claw made contact, Vivienne felt it—a less than subtle shift, a flow of energy. Vivienne could feel the transfer, the aether moving from Korriva’s body into her daughter’s, an endless well of energy feeding her, helping her recover, grow, and heal.

It was intoxicating.

Vivienne’s mouth watered, the instinct to feed momentarily overpowering her will. Her claws flexed, and the thought of sinking them into the flesh of the High Fang was so tempting. To bite a little, just a nibble—nothing Korriva would miss. It would be so easy. She could almost taste it.

But Vivienne resisted, clenching her jaw to force the urge back. No, she told herself. After this, you can hunt. You’ve gone too long without feeding, but it’s not Korriva’s energy you need now.

Her thoughts turned back to Liora. The child was her focus, her reason. She had promised herself, promised Korriva, that she would not break that trust. And she wouldn’t. Not now. Not when her daughter needed her most.

She watched as Liora’s fragile form absorbed more of the aether, her small frame shimmering with a subtle glow, the dark, oppressive weight of her weakness slowly lifting. Every bit of energy that passed into her made Vivienne’s heart ache with a strange mixture of pride and sorrow. For making her daughter like this. she would make Aegis pay. She would make them all pay.

With one final glance at the sleeping Korriva, Vivienne withdrew her hand, careful not to disturb the fragile moment. The aether flow continued, but it was slower now. Liora had taken what she needed for now. Vivienne could feel the hunger stirring again, but she pushed it down and left the room with Liora.

Vivienne made her way back through the darkened halls, her steps utterly silent, the lingering hunger still coiling in the back of her mind. She had kept herself in control, but it had been close—too close. She needed to hunt soon. But for now, her daughter was stable, and that was what mattered most.

The door to their quarters creaked softly as she stepped inside, the warmth of the fire in the hearth washing over her. Renzia sat on the floor, motionless except for the faint rise and fall of her chest, staring into the flames with an eerie stillness. The flickering light cast shifting shadows over her featureless form, reflections dancing across the smooth surface of her mannequin-like body.

Vivienne let out a slow breath as she crossed the room, settling into the chair nearby with a tired but satisfied sigh. "Hello, Renzia," she greeted, her voice carrying the remnants of exhaustion.

Renzia snapped her head toward Vivienne in an abrupt, unnatural motion, the way she always moved—sharp, deliberate, yet somehow uncertain at times, like a marionette testing its strings. She made to stand up, but Vivienne lifted a hand to stop her.

“No need to get up yet,” Vivienne said, her tone light, though there was a weight beneath it. “What have you been doing?”

Renzia hesitated before slowly sitting back down. "Wat-ching the fire," she said, her voice carrying its usual disjointed cadence, the unnatural pauses in her words almost rhythmic.

Vivienne tilted her head, studying her. "Why?"

Renzia's head twitched slightly, as if the question had taken a moment to register. Then, she gave a simple answer. "Pretty."

Vivienne’s lips curled slightly at the corners. It was an innocent response, but one Vivienne was glad to hear. It wasn’t curiosity in the way a child might have, nor was it admiration. It was something different—something uniquely Renzia.

Vivienne glanced at the fire, watching how the flames moved, the embers glowing hot in the depths of the hearth. "It is pretty," she admitted, voice quieter now. "Always shifting, always changing. Like it's alive."

Renzia gave the slightest tilt of her head, considering. "Yes."

Vivienne hummed in response, letting the warmth of the fire and the quiet crackling of the wood fill the silence. In her arms, Liora stirred.

Without thinking, Vivienne’s claws ran gently through her daughter’s hair, a soothing motion, meant to comfort.

Then—she froze.

Her mind caught up with her body, and something cold settled in her gut.

Liora shouldn’t be able to move.

Vivienne slowly, cautiously, lowered her gaze.

Liora was looking straight up at her, eyes filled with exhaustion yet unmistakably aware. And then, weak but undeniable, a small smile pulled at her lips.

“Mommy,” Liora rasped weakly, her voice barely more than a breath.

Vivienne blinked. Then blinked again. Her mouth hung slightly open as if her mind hadn't fully caught up with what she'd just heard.

Then, all at once, it did.

A strangled gasp left her lips before she gathered Liora closer, pressing the girl against her chest as though she might disappear if she let go. Then, unable to contain herself, Vivienne smothered her daughter's face with kisses—soft, rapid pecks across her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, anywhere she could reach.

“Mi niña,” Vivienne murmured between kisses, her voice trembling with something caught between relief and overwhelming joy. “Mi dulce niña.”

She pulled back after what felt like an eternity, only to place one last lingering kiss on Liora’s forehead for good measure. Her fingers traced soothing circles over her daughter’s cheek as she gazed at her, drinking in the sight of those tired but alert eyes.

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently.

Liora’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “I can’t move much… I want to get better so I can hug you, Mommy.”

Vivienne felt a lump rise in her throat, her arms instinctively tightening around her child. “You can take all the time you need,” she promised. “There isn’t a rush. I will just have to hug you enough for both of us.”

Liora’s lips curled into the faintest, most fragile of smiles.

From the side, Renzia shifted. The mannequin had been motionless before, but now she stood, leaning forward ever so slightly. “Yo-ung miss-tress?”

Liora’s gaze flickered toward her, her expression softening further. “Renzia,” she murmured, her words slow but deliberate. “Th-thank you… for watching over me.”

If Renzia had a face, Vivienne imagined she would be smiling. Instead, the mannequin simply inclined her head, a careful, deliberate motion that spoke volumes.

“Have you thought about what I asked, Renzia?” Asked Vivienne.

Renzia nodded, the movement stiff but certain. "Yes. I have thou-ght much. I wan-t to make dress-es"

Vivienne leaned back in her chair, letting the firelight flicker across her thoughtful expression. "Why dresses?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.

Renzia hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "My cre-ator," she began, her disjointed speech slower than usual, "the fir-st miss-tress… created dresses. I was to wear them… ne-ver cre-ate."

Vivienne's smile deepened, something warm settling in her chest. "And now you wish to make them yourself?"

"Yes."

Vivienne let out a quiet hum of approval. "Then you should. There's something special about creating something with your own hands—your own will. I’d like to see what you make."

Renzia remained still for a moment, as if processing Vivienne’s words, before giving another slow nod. "I… will try."

A thought formed in Vivienne’s mind, and she decided to voice it. “When I get myself a home, I’ll sort out a workshop for you. Kivvy will be getting one as well. Won’t be too much trouble.”

Renzia inclined her head in acknowledgment before silently turning back to the fire, the flickering light dancing across her smooth, featureless form.

A soft, hesitant voice broke the quiet. “Can I have a hug?” Liora asked, her words barely above a whisper.

Vivienne’s gaze snapped down to her, all other thoughts vanishing in an instant. “Of course, mijita,” she murmured, her voice gentle. “You can have as many hugs as you want.”

She pulled Liora close, cradling her daughter’s frail form against her chest, mindful of how weak she still was. Liora melted into her embrace, nestling her head against Vivienne’s shoulder with a contented sigh. Vivienne pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there, savoring the warmth of the moment.

They sat like that for a while, wrapped in quiet, the only sound the soft crackling of the fire. Vivienne did her best to focus on the warmth of Liora in her arms, the slow, steady rhythm of her breath, the feeling of her little claws grasping lightly at her sleeve.

But the hunger gnawed at her, sinking deep, an insistent, creeping thing that refused to be ignored. She hadn’t realized just how starved she was until she had gotten a whiff of Korriva’s aether. It was like a parched man tasting the first drop of water in the middle of a desert—it only made her crave more.

Even now, the sensation lingered. The phantom taste of power, of something rich and brimming with energy. Aether sang to her like a siren’s call, whispering, urging. She clenched her jaw and focused on Liora’s warmth, but the hunger only dug in deeper, sharpening its claws in her gut.

Even Renzia was starting to look tasty.

She stiffened at the thought and forced herself to her feet before she could let it fester. “Renzia,” she said, keeping her tone as even as possible, “could you look after Liora for a bit? I need to get myself something to eat.”

Renzia turned her head toward Vivienne, unmoving for a second too long, before nodding. "Yes."

Vivienne gave Liora one last squeeze before gently passing her over. She needed to go hunting—now.

Vivienne moved swiftly, slipping out of her room with a fluidity that betrayed her urgency. The moment she was free of its confines, her form twisted, limbs folding in on themselves as her body shrank and shifted. In the blink of an eye, she scuttled across the ceiling, her many legs tapping soundlessly against the stone.

How easy it would be. The thought crept in unbidden, whispering in the back of her mind. She could drop down on someone passing below—silent, sudden, no witnesses. No body to follow. A simple bite, a moment of indulgence, and her hunger would be sated.

No.

She clenched her mandibles, forcing the temptation aside as she hurried through the halls, slipping unnoticed into the shadows. Her body twisted once more as she reached the upper levels, morphing into an amorphous mass of black ichor. She oozed into the ventilation, squeezing through the narrow gaps with effortless ease, her form stretching and pressing through every crevice until she reached the open air.

The cold night greeted her as she poured out onto the roof, reforming in a fluid, seamless motion. Without hesitation, she took off, bounding across the rooftops with a speed that defied anything human. Wind whipped past her as she moved, her inky silhouette little more than a fleeting blur against the moonlight.

After scaling the massive walls of Aegis with ease, she found Serkoth’s walls to be almost laughably small in comparison. They barely slowed her down. Her claws hooked into the rough stone, and with a few effortless motions, she reached the top, moving as fluidly as a shadow slipping over the battlements.

Here, the patrols were fewer, but the lekine who guarded this place would no doubt have sharper senses than their human counterparts. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t here to hide. She was here to feed.

And yet, she was careful. Those she had decided were not to be her prey had no business being near her right now.

Reaching the top, she took a moment to scan the landscape, hunger clawing at her insides like a living thing. The steppes stretched out before her, dark and vast, an endless expanse beneath the stars. Without a second thought, she leapt, dropping from the walls and landing on the earth below with a dull thud.

Then she ran.

The wind howled as she sprinted into the wild, her body surging forward with ravenous purpose.

She ran for a while before realizing she had a tail. Not her own, but someone trailing her, their presence subtle but persistent. A hunter themselves, skilled enough to track her without giving away too much—yet not enough to escape her notice.

Vivienne didn’t slow, didn’t acknowledge them at first. She kept running, her body tireless, her speed unrelenting. The cold night air howled past her, and Serkoth shrank behind her, its lights fading as the horizon swallowed it whole. Only when she was certain they were far from prying eyes did she whirl around in a single, fluid motion, her claws flexing as she faced her pursuer.

The figure halted several meters away, standing tall, body rippling with muscle and barely contained power. She was a living shadow against the night, her form blending seamlessly into the darkness, but those sharp, glowing blue eyes gave her away.

“Rava.” Vivienne’s voice was sharp, laden with an edge that only came when she was at the brink. She wasn’t in the mood for argument tonight. “Go back. I need to hunt.”

Rava didn’t even blink. She stood her ground, her broad shoulders squared, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Vivienne’s with a focused intensity. “I go with you.”

Vivienne’s frustration flared, her claws digging into the earth. “No. Go back,” she snarled, the hunger coiling tighter within her, gnawing at her self-control. “I don’t need you.”

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but the hunger, the deep, insatiable pull for aether, burned even hotter. This wasn’t just about food. It was about control. Control she was losing, fast.

Rava took a step forward, her muscular frame moving with slow deliberation, as if there was no room for question. “Yes you do.” Her voice was gruff, like the sound of stone grinding against itself. “You’re weak.”

That—that word—made Vivienne’s entire body freeze. Weak. Weak. She was many things, but weak was not one of them. She’d torn down a city. She’d slaughtered countless prey. Weak was a word that didn’t belong in her vocabulary.

With a hiss, Vivienne stepped back, her tail twitching in irritation. “I am not weak,” she spat, her voice a deadly growl. “I do not need, nor do I want, your help. Now leave me.”

Rava’s stance didn’t shift, but her eyes softened, and that infuriated Vivienne even more. The towering Lekine didn’t get it. She didn’t understand what Vivienne was capable of—what she was.

“You are my mate,” Rava grunted, taking another step closer, her voice firm with resolve. “I protect you. I hunt with you.”

Vivienne’s chest tightened, her breath quickening as her claws flexed with sharp intent. The words ignited something inside her. A deep, raw growl reverberated in her chest, her throat rumbling with the feral sound. The instinct was almost too strong to ignore.

She could rip Rava apart, here and now. She could sink her claws into the Lekine’s flesh, tear the meat from her bones, drink the rich, thick aether flooding her veins, feel the rush of power as Rava’s strength became hers. She could feed—really feed, not just to survive, but to reclaim what was slipping from her grasp.

The temptation burned like fire.

Vivienne’s voice came out strangled, tight with effort. “Last. Chance. Leave.” Her words barely escaped, heavy with the weight of the battle waging inside her.

Her vision blurred for a moment. She could taste it—Rava’s flesh beneath her claws, the pulsing warmth of her body in her grip, her aether-rich blood running down her chin. She could have it all in a moment of abandon.

But no. No.

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her own palms as she fought to control the beast clawing at her from within. Her teeth ground together, and with a final, fierce growl, she locked eyes with Rava, the battle not just physical, but mental.

Not yet.

Rava only stepped closer, her presence an overwhelming mass of muscle and power that seemed to fill the space between them. Vivienne’s senses flared in response, her body taut with the raw energy simmering beneath her skin. The hunger was there, undeniable, an ache that pulsed in her core. And Rava… Rava was right in front of her.

Vivienne’s long, prehensile black tongue slipped past her lips, instinctively tasting the air. The sharp scent of aetherbeasts nearby teased her senses—fresh, rich, full of potential—but those creatures were nothing, not even a fraction, compared to the feast that stood directly before her.

Her tongue flicked again, sharper this time, as the intoxicating sweetness of Rava’s aether filled her senses. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, the animal hunger clawing its way to the surface. The Lekine’s scent—musky, primal, full of power—wrapped around Vivienne’s thoughts, drowning out everything else.

Her heart hammered in her chest, and her pulse thrummed in her ears. The hunger surged again, darker and deeper than before, consuming everything. Every thought. Every sense. There was no longer any hesitation, no second thoughts, no moments of clarity.

Vivienne’s claws twitched, the sharp tips itching to sink into soft flesh. She took a single, dangerous step forward, and then her muscles coiled, springing her into the air. Her claws shot out, the black tips gleaming in the faint light of the night, and her mind tunneled towards only one goal: To eat.

There was no room for anything else. No time for hesitation, for reason, for restraint. Just the overwhelming, gnawing drive to feed, to consume, to take what was within her reach.