novelraw Chapter 254 – Iron Halo
Chapter 254 – Iron Halo
Vivienne sat cross-legged on the thick rug in Liora’s bedroom, her tail lazily coiled around a cushion behind her. The room smelled faintly of warm wood, herbs, and the crushed berry pigments they were currently making a glorious mess with. The paint set was spread across the low table between them—pots half-opened, brushes dripping, blotches of color already staining the corners of Liora’s sleeves.
The paints had been a minor victory of their own. Serkoth was not known for its love of the arts. Vivienne had spent most of the previous afternoon scouring merchant records before finally finding a wandering trader from Thalrynn who happened to be carrying a few sets—likely meant for nobles’ children or high-end calligraphy, judging by the price. She’d taken them all, of course.
Liora gripped her brush in a tight little fist, tongue poking out slightly as she furrowed her brow at the paper. She made short, jerky lines, dipping into the paint too deeply and dragging it across the parchment with more force than grace. The result was a chaotic smear of purple and orange—half fire, half confusion—but she was proud of it. Her delight came not from precision, but from making the colors move.
Vivienne smiled faintly, watching her daughter’s latest creation spread into the edges of the page. “Is that a stormbeast, sweetheart?”
Liora blinked. “No, it’s you.”
“Oh?” Vivienne dipped her brush into the black and added a thin spiral beside it. “I look fiercer than usual today, then.”
Liora giggled, smearing a glob of red over the top of the paper. “That’s the fire. You always make fire.”
Vivienne chuckled. “Do I?”
The brush trembled slightly in the child’s hand. Her strokes were messy, unpredictable, her fingers still learning how to grip instead of clench. The brush tip stuck to the page at awkward angles, spreading paint unevenly across the surface.
Crayons, Vivienne thought. Those would be easier for her.
They weren’t complicated to make. A little wax, some color, and the right mold. She could make a set in a few hours. Maybe even add glitter, just for fun. Something to run by Mizzra, she mused. Not that she thought the goblin would leap at the idea. There wasn’t much profit in crayons. Still… it was something.
Her thoughts drifted, lazy and slow, as she dipped a clean brush into gold pigment and added tiny stars beside Liora’s messy firestorm. The world outside the manor could wait. For now, she had this—warmth, color, and her daughter giggling as she accidentally painted the table instead of the page.
Vivienne handed her a cloth and tapped the parchment. “Try again. That last fireball got away from you.”
Liora beamed. “I’ll make a bigger one!”
“Of course you will,” Vivienne murmured, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Liora’s ear. Her daughter beamed at the attention, cheeks already streaked with blotches of red and gold paint. There was something so light about her in that moment—untouched, for now, by the weight of the world outside this room.
But Vivienne could feel it pressing at the edges.
She didn’t want to break that light. Not yet. Not after Drakthar, not when she’d just started sleeping soundly again. But she couldn’t lie to her either. Liora deserved the truth, even if only part of it.
“Mijita,” she said gently, brushing a fingertip under her daughter’s chin, “put the brush down for a moment. I need to say something.”
Liora gave a faint groan and flopped backward into the cushions. “Aww… can’t I keep going for a little longer?”
Vivienne’s voice dropped. Just enough to signal that the game was over.
“Liora.”
The name hung in the air, soft but solid. Not angry. Just certain.
Liora sat up, small hands wiping at her paint-smudged skirt. “Okay, Mommy.” She picked up her brush carefully and dipped it into the water pot with a little plop, watching the colors swirl for a heartbeat before setting it aside. Then she straightened her back and folded her hands in her lap, eyes turned up to her mother.
Vivienne gave a small, quiet smile. Liora was trying to be brave. That alone almost undid her.
She reached out, took both of the girl’s hands in her own, and gave them a gentle squeeze. Her claws, dark and smooth, enveloped Liora’s tiny paint-flecked fingers with a strange kind of care. One not many others would recognize, but it was real.
“I need to talk to you about what’s coming,” Vivienne said, her voice soft but unwavering. She kept her hands gently wrapped around Liora’s, anchoring the moment between them.
“Another big battle is coming. And I’m going to be part of it too.”
The effect was instant.
Liora’s face crumpled. Her eyes, wide and bright just seconds ago, filled with panic. “No! No!” she cried, voice rising. She scrambled forward, shoving aside the little paint pots without even noticing as she flung herself into Vivienne’s arms.
She wrapped her small arms tightly around her mother’s neck, clinging like she was afraid Vivienne might disappear right then and there.
Vivienne caught her instinctively, arms encircling her in one smooth motion. Liora buried her face against her collar, her voice muffled by fabric and desperation.
“I need to, Mijita,” Vivienne said quietly, her claws gently stroking Liora’s back in slow, soothing motions. “I have to help protect this city. It’s our home. Yours. Mine. Ours.”
“No!” Liora sobbed, fists tightening into the folds of Vivienne’s dress. “I don’t want Mommy to go away again!”
Vivienne felt it then. A sharp pull right behind the sternum, deep where the fake warmth of her crafted body usually dulled such things. But this... this pierced through. A sensation she could only describe as a twist. A wrench.
A twinge in the heart she didn’t technically have.
Her voice caught in her throat. For a moment, she just held her daughter close, burying her face in Liora’s paint-dusted hair, letting the little one cry against her skin.
“I came back last time,” she whispered. “Didn’t I?”
“But it took so long!” Liora hiccuped, trembling against her. “A-and the bad people h-hurt me…”
Vivienne shut her eyes. Her jaw tensed. For all her power, all her cleverness, there was no magic that could make this easier.
“I know, baby,” she murmured. “I know. And I’m so sorry for that. I would never leave you on purpose. Not ever. I love you more than anything.”
“Then stay!”
“I want to,” she said, almost choking on it. “But I can’t. Not yet. Not while people out there are trying to destroy everything we’ve built. Everything you deserve to grow up in.”
Liora didn’t answer, only sobbed harder, clinging like she could keep Vivienne tethered with sheer will alone.
Vivienne held her until the sobs began to slow, and the trembling faded into hiccups. She rocked her gently, back and forth, her voice a soft hum that wove between the silence.
This part of the war, the ache of it, the hurt left in small hands and broken trust, was always the worst.
“Do you really have to go?” Liora’s voice was quieter now, rough from crying, her cheek still pressed against Vivienne’s shoulder.
“I do,” Vivienne replied, brushing her claws gently through the child’s hair. “I’m protecting the eastern wall all by myself.”
Liora pulled back just enough to frown up at her. “The other grown-ups won’t help you?”
Vivienne gave a small, tired smile. “I’m not very well liked, sweetheart. But I am competent. They trust me to handle it. I just don’t think anyone’s eager to stand beside me.”
Liora crossed her arms and gave a fierce little pout, her tiny frame bristling with indignation. “Then they’re dumb! You’re the best, nicest, kindest mommy ever.”
Vivienne gave a soft laugh, the first real one in minutes. “Am I just?” she teased, giving Liora’s nose a playful boop with the tip of one claw.
Liora giggled in spite of herself, then nodded firmly. “You are. And you don’t need them. You’re powerful. And Rava’s gonna help, right?”
“Of course,” Vivienne said, giving her a reassuring nod. “I’ll have Rava with me. And between us, there’s not a force in the world that could take that wall.”
“And me too!” said a new voice, bright and smug.
Vivienne turned sharply.
Kivvy stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the frame like she’d been there a while. Her sharp-toothed grin stretched ear to ear, and her eyes glittered with delight at catching them off guard.
“How long have you been standing there?” Vivienne asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Since you said you had to protect the eastern wall,” Kivvy replied, sauntering into the room without a care in the world. “Did you seriously not know I was here?”
Vivienne frowned. That was strange. She could feel the aether of everything around her in a space this small—emotions, movement, even breath. But Kivvy had been a ghost. No ripple. No pulse. Nothing.
Kivvy’s grin widened further. “Then it works. Good.”
Vivienne raised a brow. “What works?”
“I’ve been busy,” Kivvy said, practically puffing up with pride. Her hands went to her hips, and her sharp grin hadn’t budged an inch. “I’ve built some things. Stuff that’ll help you. Stuff that’ll help us. I haven’t been idle since we got here. Wanna see?”
Her eyes sparkled, clearly relishing the idea of showing off her work. For Kivvy, there was no greater joy than revealing some clever contraption that would probably startle someone, explode, or both.
Vivienne let out a soft breath through her nose and glanced down at the girl in her arms. “Mommy’s going to see what Kivvy made,” she murmured, brushing a bit of dried paint from Liora’s cheek. “Would you like to come?”
Liora didn’t respond right away. She just leaned against Vivienne for a few seconds longer, her face tucked into her mother’s shoulder as if trying to draw strength from the warmth there. When she finally nodded, her voice was quiet.
“Okay.”
Vivienne gave her a gentle squeeze. “Good girl.”
With a soft grunt, she shifted and pushed herself upright, her tail uncurling from the rug as she rose. Liora clung to her for a moment longer before letting go, rubbing her eyes as she followed suit.
“Let’s get to it then,” Vivienne said, turning her gaze back to the goblin.
Kivvy was already halfway out the door, her fingers twitching with excitement. “Oh you’re gonna love this,” she called back, half-hopping into the hallway like a child dragging a secret too big to carry.
Vivienne extended a hand behind her without looking, and Liora took it immediately, her tiny fingers slipping into the spaces between Vivienne’s claws.
They followed after the bouncing goblin, who was practically vibrating with anticipation.
Vivienne’s brows lifted slightly.
Whatever Kivvy had been building in secret, it was enough to suppress her aether signature entirely.
They made their way downstairs into Kivvy’s workshop, and Vivienne immediately felt her senses recoil.
It was as if a junkyard had detonated and then somehow kept breathing. The room was dense with noise and clutter, wires hanging like vines from the ceiling, shelves groaning under the weight of scrap, gears, crystal cores, and half-dismantled things that might have once been furniture—or maybe weapons. Possibly both. The air smelled of hot metal, oil, and something vaguely citrusy that Vivienne didn’t want to think too hard about.
The floor technically existed, though Vivienne wasn’t convinced it had been seen in some time. There were narrow footpaths carved through the chaos, just wide enough for someone Kivvy-sized to slip through with practiced ease. For anyone else, it required careful footwork and a complete lack of regard for personal safety.
If there was a system to any of it, Vivienne couldn’t parse it. The chaos was alive. Breathing. Watching, even.
She made absolutely certain to keep Liora close, one hand resting gently on her back to keep her from wandering or, more likely, tripping and impaling herself on a bundle of exposed rods. “Watch your step,” she murmured.
“I am,” Liora whispered, eyes wide as she took in the room with a mixture of awe and horror. “I think it’s alive.”
Vivienne didn’t disagree.
Kivvy, of course, seemed right at home. She wove through the wreckage like a happy rat, tail flicking, eyes alight. She led them to one of the sturdier-looking benches along the far wall, which held several partially assembled contraptions, a few glowing crystals, and what looked suspiciously like a toaster that had grown legs.
“Right!” Kivvy chirped, reaching over and snatching up a pair of dark-lensed goggles. “So, I was thinking about that scope you told me about. The one on the rifle. And I thought, why not build the whole thing right into goggles? No need to carry some long, heavy barrel just to see better, right?”
She slipped the goggles onto her face and adjusted a dial on the side. “So I did! Not just the far-seeing bit either. These babies can magnify up to ten times distance and also switch modes—boom!” She tapped the side. “Now I can see aether signatures. Living, dead, or disguised. Even through a wall, if it's thin enough. Haven’t gotten it to see through lead yet, but I’m working on that.”
She pulled them off and offered them to Vivienne with a triumphant grin. “Try ’em!”
Vivienne took the goggles, turning them over in her claws with interest. They were ugly. Bulky. Possibly hazardous.
She loved them already.
Liora tugged on her sleeve. “Can I try too?”
“In a moment, sweetheart,” Vivienne murmured, slipping the goggles onto her head and carefully turning the dial.
The workshop changed.
Lines of heat, shimmer, and aether lit up the room. She could see aether but this was different. Threads of power hummed across the floor where Kivvy had wired something far more complex than simple lights. Vivienne saw the outlines of stored aether crystals, tiny enchanted springs, even a skittering construct in the corner that stopped moving the moment her gaze passed over it.
She let out a low hum.
“Well?” Kivvy asked, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Vivienne lowered the goggles. “Functional. Surprisingly so.”
Kivvy beamed. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Vivienne gently pulled the goggles from her face and handed them to Liora, who accepted them with both hands like they were made of gold. The oversized lenses slipped slightly over her nose as she tugged them on, and the moment she turned the dial, she gasped.
“I see sparkles!” she whispered, spinning around in a slow circle. “Everything’s glowing!”
Vivienne smiled faintly and turned back to Kivvy. “Alright, what’s next?”
Kivvy was already on the move, rummaging through a cluttered shelf that looked like it might collapse at any moment. After a brief clatter and a triumphant “Aha!”, she emerged with a flat metal plate—no wider than a book—and a thick, worn leather strap attached to it.
She held it up with a grin so smug it could have been patented. “Guess what this is?”
Vivienne tilted her head. “A small shield?”
“Of a sorts,” Kivvy said, smirk widening.
She swung the strap over her shoulder and settled the plate against the center of her chest, the bandolier pulling tight across her back. Then, with a dramatic little flourish, she pressed a circular button embedded in the middle of the plate.
With a soft whirrr-ksshk, the metal began to move.
Thin segments unfolded outward like clockwork petals, clicking into place and locking with quiet precision. The plate expanded—first over her chest, then up her shoulders, down her sides, around her abdomen and thighs. A pair of segmented plates even wrapped over her arms. In a matter of seconds, she was wrapped in a full-body carapace, thin but gleaming, like a second skin of burnished bronze.
Liora gasped audibly behind her goggles. “Woahhh!”
Vivienne crossed her arms, one brow arching in genuine curiosity. “Compact armor?”
Kivvy beamed. “Personal deployable armor, yes. Lightweight, reinforced, adjustable. You could dive through a bonfire wearing this and not come out crispy. Took forever to get the folding pattern right. Nearly lost a toe. Twice.”
She flexed her arms experimentally. The plates moved smoothly, reacting to her motion with surprising fluidity. “Can withstand crossbow bolts, low-yield explosive spells, and your average battlefield scrap. Still working on shock absorption for heavier impacts, but I figure I don’t get hit often enough for that to matter.”
“Hmm.” Vivienne stepped closer and tapped one of the plates with a claw. “Enchanted?”
“A bit. Runic threading inside the layers. Basic defensive charm, auto-repair function over time, and—get this—self-cleaning.” Kivvy gave her a wink. “Because bloodstains are a pain.”
Vivienne gave a quiet chuckle, one brow lifting. “You made this for yourself?”
“Yup!” Kivvy said with no shame at all, beaming. “It’s also the second part of a set. The goggles are the first—think of this as the core.”
Without waiting for permission or dramatic pause, she turned to the side and grabbed what looked like a mechanical backpack of sorts. It was a curious thing—flat, compact, and webbed with tiny gears and arcane filaments. Vivienne could see traces of etched runes along the base, barely visible against the dull gray metal.
Kivvy slung it over her segmented armor like it weighed nothing, tightening the straps around her chest with a few practiced yanks. “Now watch closely,” she said with a wicked grin.
She pressed a small, recessed button along one of the shoulder straps. There was a sharp click—then a rising hum, like distant turbines spinning up.
Then came the noise behind her.
A low metallic clatter. A shifting of weight in the air.
Vivienne turned, her tail twitching in anticipation.
From a wide rack half-buried under cloth and clutter, a series of mechanical arms extended—jerky at first, then more fluid—releasing a cluster of weapons into the air. One by one, eight rifles lifted off their brackets and floated, drifting toward Kivvy like birds drawn home. They hovered in a loose circle around her, all at varying heights, slowly orbiting with uncanny grace.
Each rifle looked completely different from the next.
The first was sleek, elegantly shaped, its dark metal frame etched with silver inlays and violet crystals pulsing gently at the stock. It looked like it belonged in a duelist’s hands—refined, deadly, precise.
The second rifle was… well, it worked, probably. It looked like it had been built in a scrapyard by someone angry, with parts mismatched and crudely welded. The scope was held on by what looked suspiciously like copper wire and prayer. But something about it thrummed with raw, barely-contained force.
The third was impossible. Too advanced. Sleek lines of alloy and glass, glowing threads of energy weaving down the barrel like veins. Vivienne had never seen materials like it, nor the tech behind it. It looked more like it had stepped in from another world entirely.
And the rest—five more, each with their own strange designs—hung there in the air, weapons of wildly different styles and technologies, drifting in perfect harmony around Kivvy like she was the core of some orbiting machine.
Liora’s jaw dropped. “They’re flying!”
Kivvy turned slowly, arms out just slightly, letting the rifles continue their orbit as she grinned like she’d just grown wings.
“Not just flying,” she said proudly. “They’re linked. Controlled directly by the backpack’s targeting system—powered by several aether crystals, filtered through the goggles, and stabilized by the armor. I call it the Iron Halo.”
Vivienne folded her arms, watching as one of the rifles gently aligned itself with Kivvy’s eye-line before drifting back into orbit. “That sounds wildly dangerous.”
“Oh, it is,” Kivvy said cheerfully. “But only to the people I’m pointing at. Which is, you know, the whole point.”
She waved a hand and the rifles suddenly snapped into a tight formation behind her back, stacking like feathers in a mechanical fan before folding down into a compact cluster.
“Best part?” Kivvy continued, tapping the side of the backpack. “Each one can be loaded with something different. Aether disruptor, incendiary, gravity spike, piercing round, anti-magic net... hell, I even have one that just screams really loud.”
Liora giggled. “Why?”
“For fun.”
Vivienne grinned widely. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Kivvy grinned wider. “Probably. But I’ll look incredible doing it.”