Mother of Midnight

Chapter 244 – Divine Intervention

There had been an abundance of unpleasant surprises in this new life.

Betrayal. Captivity. Loss. The aching absence of old friends. The sour taste of helplessness.

But this?

This was a surprise Vivienne savored.

A delicious, unexpected treat.

One of Praxus’ champions—the first champion other than Korriva she had ever met—was now lying perfectly still beneath her claws. Their name escaped her in the moment, something simple, something whispered in fury once upon a time. Entheris, yes—that was it. She’d only met them three times, but each encounter had branded itself into her memory like a scar that refused to heal.

The first had been in the Undercity, where she’d nearly had her fill—until this one intervened. She remembered the searing agony of their strange magic, how it had stripped layers of her body away like petals peeled from a flower. They’d teleported her prey to safety, the cowards, stealing her feast from under her nose.

The second time had been at Drakthar. Vivienne stood tall upon its black stone walls, demanding surrender. And there Entheris was, standing below, cloaked in sunlight and false righteousness, one hand on the hilt of that sanctified blade.

And the third time?

Right now.

Pinned beneath her weight, claws digging ever so slightly into soft cloth and cold flesh. Her swollen form loomed over them, hair falling like a veil around their face. They hadn't resisted. They hadn’t moved.

They were calm.

Too calm.

Vivienne’s obsidian lips peeled back into a grin. “I have waited so long to meet you again, morsel.” Her voice dripped with amusement, her breath warm against Entheris’ metal faceplate. “You ran away with my meal.”

Corven stood at attention a few steps away, ramrod straight, though the taste of his fear rolled off him like smoke.

Rava was nearby, already in stance—shoulders squared, claws brandished, eyes sharp. Protective.

And the woman who had come in with Entheris?

She sat on the couch. Still. Watching. Her expression unreadable—but not empty. There was tension in her shoulders, a certain stillness behind the eyes that spoke of measured caution. She wasn’t unafraid. Just… composed. Calculating.

Then, Entheris finally spoke, voice smooth and unnaturally calm. “I come here not as an enemy. I come here as a potential ally… under the recommendation of my travelling companion.”

Their eyes met Vivienne’s.

No flinching. No pleading. Only steady, measured stillness.

Vivienne’s grin sharpened. “Mmm, I have allies already. Powerful ones. What I want—” she purred, leaning in closer, her claws pricking ever so slightly through cloth, “—is to eat you.”

Entheris didn’t blink.

“Do they have deep knowledge of the inner workings of the Sovereignty’s ruling council?” they asked, voice unbroken. “Do they have intelligence on the movements of the army? Do they understand the divine leylines that guide their campaigns? Are they—” and here, just the faintest shift of expression, something like pride “—narrative exomancers with the power to twist the arc of stories themselves?”

Vivienne's amusement twisted into a snarl. Her tail thumped once against the polished floor, cracking the stone. “You’re making me want to kill you more. Before you can bring harm to me or mine.”

“I will not harm you or yours,” Entheris said, still pinned, still calm. “You have my word.”

“Vivienne. Wait.” The voice was quiet but firm. Familiar.

It came from behind her. From Rava.

Vivienne turned her head slightly, her expression flickering with disbelief. “Excuse me, love, I’m rather busy. Could I have a moment to tear this scum into ribbons first?”

Rava sighed.

It was a small thing. Just breath forced from her lungs.

But it was such a familiar sound that Vivienne’s core ached.

Rava never sighed like that unless she was deeply troubled.

“We should take them to Narek,” Rava murmured. “He’d know what to do.”

Vivienne opened her mouth to argue, but—

“Mmm, actually,” came a new voice, soft and a little sheepish, “I’d prefer if we kept this meeting to as few people as possible…”

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. Slowly, she turned her head to the other guest.

“And who are you, morsel?” she drawled, voice low and mocking. “I don’t recall telling you to sit.”

The woman stiffened, then awkwardly rose to her feet. “Ah—I’m Lyra. A bard. By trade.”

“Fantastic.” Vivienne gestured lazily with a claw. “Now stay put while I eat your friend.”

“I’m the one who convinced them to come,” Lyra said quickly. “They didn’t want to. They were done. But… Praxus turned his back on them. Tried to have them killed during the battle of Drakthar.”

Vivienne paused. Her ears twitched.

“Ooh,” she cooed, tilting her head with a mock-pitying smile. “Is that so? Well, do me a favor—give him my regards when you see him. And do tell him…” she leaned in again, eyes gleaming black as tar, “…I’ll be coming to eat him eventually.”

Entheris held her gaze. “He fears that.”

Vivienne blinked. A breath passed.

For a moment, the room was quiet but for the faint dripping of blood from her claws.

Then—

“…Talk,” she said finally, pulling back. “You get five minutes. If I don’t like what I hear, I’ll wear your skull like a crown.”

Entheris tilted their head ever so slightly, blinking in that eerie, too-still way of theirs. “What is a minute? And why do I get five of them?”

Vivienne let out a tired groan and waved a claw lazily through the air. “Measurement of time. About a twenty-fourth of a bell.” She stood up, brushing against Rava’s side as she slinked across the room, and then practically collapsed onto the couch in a dramatic sprawl. “Everyone, sit.”

Rava sat immediately—on the floor, like an obedient hound. Corven, meanwhile, lingered in awkward hesitation.

Vivienne squinted at him and sighed, annoyed. “You are dismissed, Corven. Go back to your duties, dear. I’ve got enough tension in the room already.”

“Of course, Mistress.” He bowed deeply—properly, as always—and swiftly excused himself, disappearing with quiet, measured steps.

Vivienne turned her gaze on Rava and pouted. “Love, you know better than to sit on the floor. Come here. I need something sturdy to drape myself across.”

Rava huffed but obeyed, rising fluidly and settling into the couch. Vivienne shuffled toward her at once, pressing herself against the large Lekine woman’s side, her head coming to rest on a thick, muscular thigh like it was the most natural pillow in the world.

She looked up at the guests now, her expression sharpening. “I thought I told you two to sit. Or shall we skip the pleasantries and move to the part where I tear you both apart for wasting my time?”

The bard, Lyra, scrambled into a chair with a murmured apology. Entheris followed without a word, folding into a seat with the same unnatural calm they’d carried through the entire encounter.

“Better,” Vivienne murmured, her tail flicking lazily behind the couch. “Now. Let’s talk about this whole nonsense with Praxus being scared of me. I find that delightful. Go on—feed me something juicy.”

Entheris met her gaze unflinchingly. “You killed his most powerful champion. With ease.”

Vivienne hummed at that, low and amused. “Mmm. Alisaria. She was divine, in the most literal sense. Her screaming really was delightful. I think I liked her liver the most.”

“She was carrying a spark of Praxus’ power,” Entheris said, as flatly as before. “When a champion dies, the divine spark they carry returns to the god who gave it. But Praxus never got Alisaria’s back. You absorbed it.”

Vivienne’s eyes sparkled, intrigued. “So what I tasted… that exhilarating, effervescent flavor… that was a piece of him?”

“That’s our theory,” said Lyra, speaking up with less certainty than Entheris. “When you consumed her, you consumed part of Praxus. His divinity. His essence.”

“I see…” Vivienne cooed. “Then he must be livid. Gods are such poor losers.”

Entheris nodded. “Livid. And frightened. He sees you as an existential threat now.”

“I am an existential threat,” Vivienne replied with a grin, flashing her rows of needled teeth. “But that wasn’t new. The difference is that now he knows it.”

She ran her tongue slowly across her lips. “Now tell me, Entheris—what exactly do you taste like? Would it be rude to find out?”

“I could not say.” Entheris blinked slowly. “I do not remember what food tastes like.”

Vivienne paused, then laughed, a cruel, sultry sound that filled the room. “Oh, darling. Then it’s only fair I help you remember.

”“I wish to continue existence,” Entheris said simply, voice calm as ever. “I have no place in the Sovereignty anymore. Not while Kaelen draws breath.”

A growl rumbled deep in Vivienne’s throat—low, animalistic, sharp as the scent of blood. Her lip curled back slightly, exposing the glittering points of her teeth. “Kaelen…” she hissed. “I will tear him limb from limb for what he did to me. But more than that—for what he did to my daughter.”

That drew a startled blink from Lyra. “You have a daughter?” she asked, the words escaping before she could stop them.

Vivienne’s gaze flicked to her, narrowed. “I do,” she said, each syllable heavy with venom and pride. “They tortured her. Starved her. She spent months unable to walk. All because they knew hurting her would break me faster than chains ever could.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lyra said softly, and there was sincerity in her voice. No cleverness, no deflection. Just quiet grief.

Vivienne didn’t answer. Not at first. She watched the bard for a moment too long, tail twitching slowly behind her. There was something off about Lyra. Not dangerous, not threatening—but unfamiliar. She wore a human shell well, but there was something beneath it. Something faintly... wrong. Or maybe too right.

She couldn’t smell fear on her either. Not truly. Just a thin veil of respect, practiced calm, and something older. Vivienne filed that away for later.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Back on topic. Why, exactly, should I let you live?”

Entheris didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. “Because I am no longer your enemy, Akhenna’s beast.”

Vivienne’s clawed fingers twitched. “Call me that again and I’ll see how far I can drive my hand into your skull before I hit something vital.”

Entheris tilted their head. “Noted.”

“Continue,” Rava growled, arms crossed.

“Praxus has abandoned me,” said Entheris. “Stripped me of all favor. The High Priest—Kaelen—is taking… liberties. He’s begun converting the unwanted, the rebellious, and the broken into things. Aetherbeasts hybridized with artifice. Living weapons bound by obedience. They were crude at first—inefficient, unstable, barely worth deploying. But the priests are learning. Refining the process. The failures are fewer. The obedience is absolute.”

Vivienne’s claw tapped a slow rhythm against the armrest. Her tail lashed once. “Why? Why even create them in the first place? What’s the point of fusing metal with meat and madness?”

“You do not understand Praxus, do you?” said Entheris, tone almost… gentle. Not mocking. Not smug. Just tired.

Vivienne tilted her head. “I understand enough. God of order. Malicious bastard. A meal I’m saving for later.”

Entheris nodded once. “The God of Order. That title is everything. Praxus sees chaos not as a necessary force—but as a flaw. A disease. An infection to be corrected. And Akhenna—Praxus’ sister, goddess of change, wildness, unpredictability—is his natural antithesis. She represents everything he cannot control. Everything he cannot predict.”

“So he makes monsters,” Vivienne said flatly.

“He doesn’t think of them as monsters,” Entheris replied. “He thinks of them as solutions. Every mind made obedient. Every form optimized. No wasted thought. No rebellion. No variables. He wants a world of cogs in a grand machine. Souls—if they can still be called that—slotted into place. Even champions, even mortals like me, are tools to him. Temporary variables until the final equation is solved.”

Vivienne’s gaze darkened, her eyes gleaming with shadowlight. “Then why now? If this is his grand design, why only now begin the conversion of people into machines? You were close to him, weren’t you? If you knew his plans, that means you didn’t mind them.”

Entheris paused.

It wasn’t hesitation.

It was… weariness.

“Because I believed in the ideal,” they said at last. “In a world without suffering, without chaos. A world where every life served a purpose and none were wasted. I thought—naively—that Praxus sought to lift people out of misery. That his order was a ladder, not a cage.”

Their voice dipped into something colder.

“I was wrong.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes.

“I saw what Kaelen was doing. I saw what the priests were becoming. I saw the way Praxus watched us. Not as children. Not as believers. But as components. And when I questioned it… when I doubted him…” Entheris looked up, and for the first time, there was emotion in their voice. “He turned his face from me. Like I’d never existed.”

Vivienne let the silence stretch between them. Her fingers coiled and uncoiled around the couch.

Finally, she said, “So you were fine with tyranny when you thought it would be neat and clean.”

“No,” Entheris said, quiet. “I was fine with sacrifice if it brought about peace. But I didn’t understand what was being sacrificed. Who was being sacrificed.”

Vivienne’s tongue flicked briefly out between her lips—serpentine and black. “You were a fool.”

“Yes.”

“And you might still be.”

“Yes.”

“…But you’re a useful fool. For now.”

Entheris bowed their head. “That is all I ask.”

“You know,” Vivienne said slowly, swirling one clawed finger in the air, “Akhenna rarely speaks to me. She prefers to leave me to  my own devices. But… I agree with her on many things.”

Entheris tilted their head slightly, curiosity flickering across their features. “She does? You agree with her?”

Vivienne smiled—a sharp, knowing smile. “It was part of her pitch, back when she first found me. She asked me if I thought a world without chaos would be a good one. I told her no. Without chaos, there is no growth. No movement. No change. Just endless, stagnant sameness. But without order…” She paused, her black tongue briefly flicking out against her lips, “...there’s only madness. Entropy. A world that eats itself.”

She leaned back further against Rava, adjusting carefully to avoid her horns as she cradled her bloated stomach.

“The world needs both,” she continued. “Structure. Change. Bones, and the hunger that lets them move. If something is wrong with the world, it has to be allowed to change. Otherwise it festers. Dies. Akhenna sees both chaos and order as essential.”

Entheris nodded slowly. “That… seems reasonable. A god of chaos that respects balance. I wish I’d understood that sooner.”

“Yeah,” Lyra chimed in, speaking for the first time in a while. Her voice was quiet, but confident, and she sat up straighter in her seat. “That sounds about right to me, too. I’m a bard. Without chaos, there’d be no stories worth telling. No wars, no love, no betrayal. But without order—no civilization, no people to share them with. No songs passed down. Just scattered voices in a void.”

Vivienne gave a soft hum of agreement, her eyes half-lidded as she studied the bard more closely. “So tell me then,” she said, voice smooth as black silk, “why are you here? I understand the ex-champion—righteous self-preservation and a pretty face—but why you?”

Lyra offered a faint smile. “I go wherever there’s a good story. I came across Entheris, battered and lost. They had no direction. No reason to go on. I gave them both.”

“She also recommended seeking you out,” Entheris added. “She said you had the greatest potential to defeat Praxus. That you were already unraveling his grip on this world just by existing.”

“Mmm, is that so?” Vivienne’s five eyes narrowed, iridescent gleam pulsing in their depths as her gaze turned sharp, dissecting. “How fascinating.”

She leaned forward just a little. Not menacing, not overt, but undeniably predatory. “Tell me, Lyra. Give me some of your blood.”

The bard blinked. “I… I’m sorry?”

Vivienne’s smile widened, fangs peeking out. “Just a little. A taste. I want to know what you really are.”

Nervous energy flickered across Lyra’s face. She tried to keep her tone light. “Um. I’d rather not. I tend to get a little… faint. Around blood.”

Vivienne’s chuckle was low and velvet-smooth. “You didn’t seem to mind the blood I tracked in from last night’s hunt. You even sat beside it.”

“That was—different. That wasn’t my blood.”

“Just a pinprick. One drop.” Vivienne’s claws flexed idly. “Don’t you trust me?”

Lyra’s throat bobbed. “Is there anything else I can do? Anything at all that doesn’t involve… exsanguination?”

Vivienne tilted her head, clearly amused but unconvinced. “We’re not playing games, bard. You came to me. You want my trust? Prove yourself useful. Or prove you aren’t hiding something.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Even Rava’s tail flicked once, warily.

Entheris sat motionless, watching Lyra carefully.

And Lyra—smiling still, but with the wrong muscles, the kind of smile a rabbit wears when caught between two wolves—lifted her hand, ever so slowly.

“…One drop,” she said softly. “But please, be gentle.”

Vivienne leaned forward, licking her lips with her long, black tongue.

“Oh, darling,” she purred, “I always am.”

Vivienne rose in a slow, fluid motion, her movements more feline than humanoid. Each step toward the bard was measured, predatory—less an approach and more a claiming of space. Her long tail coiled behind her like a serpent tasting the air, her five eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Lyra didn’t move. Couldn’t. Whether it was fear or stubbornness—or something else—she remained seated, her expression a mixture of nervous determination and wary curiosity.

There was something different about her. Something under the skin. Not quite champion. Not entirely mortal. Vivienne couldn’t put her claws on it, but it itched at her senses like static under silk.

“Hold out your arm,” she said softly, and the bard obeyed, slow and careful, as though presenting her wrist to a blade. In many ways, she was.

Vivienne took the offered arm gently, almost reverently. She ran her claws along the surface of Lyra’s skin, testing pressure. It should have been easy—skin should yield—but instead, there was a strange resistance. Not impervious, but not human. Something woven. Deliberate.

Her claw flexed, then tapped forward with a tiny flick—shhk—barely more than a papercut.

The skin gave.

A thin line of blood beaded up, bright red and vivid against the bard’s pale skin.

Vivienne’s long black tongue unfurled, impossibly smooth and slick, and flicked across the drop.

The taste hit her like a jolt of lightning behind the eyes.

It wasn’t mortal.

It wasn’t even just divine.

She stepped back, licking her lips slowly, thoughtfully. Her eyes shimmered, pupils narrowing to razor-thin slits.

“…Fascinating.”

Her gaze shifted to Entheris, who had watched the entire scene with quiet disinterest, unreadable as ever.

“Did you know,” Vivienne said, her voice low and gleaming like a dagger in the dark, “you travel with a god?”