Mother of Midnight

Chapter 69 – Aftermath

Vivienne groaned again as her body trembled, the exertion of the battle catching up with her. She laid on her back as much as her thick tail would allow. Her obsidian scales glinted in the dim light as her tail flicked weakly behind her, covered in patches of her own blood.

Her tongue hung out to the side, long and black as it twitched involuntarily with each heavy breath. She winced, clutching her side where the aether had torn through her during the fight, leaving a jagged gash that persisted even between shape changing. The scent of blood mixed with the acrid smell of the burned bodies, but even so, she couldn’t stop the sense of satisfaction that simmered within her.

A shadow loomed over her, blocking out the flickering lights from the burning remnants of the room. Vivienne forced her gaze upward with her many eyes, finally meeting the sight of Renzia standing above her. The mannequin’s frame was stiff, as always, her expression unreadable. In her hand, the slate was held out, the words slowly appearing on its surface.

Are you okay, mistress?

Vivienne's lips twitched into a faint smile, her soft, black lips curling into something close to warmth despite the pain. "Yes, sweetheart," she rasped, her voice strained but grateful. "Thank you for asking." She let her head fall back against the cold stone floor, her body sinking into the familiar ache. "I just need a breather, and I’ll be right as rain."

Renzia stood silently, her head tilted slightly as if processing this new information. The mannequin shifted, her stiff movements like a marionette in a dance as she glanced across the wreckage, searching for survivors.

Vivienne’s head turned lazily toward the wreckage of their battlefield. She didn’t care much for the fallen soldiers—at least, not now—but her instincts prompted her to look for any remnants of those she might need to deal with. Her gaze flicked to Renzia, the question hanging between them.

"Any other survivors?" she asked, her voice low but firm, her eyes narrowing as she waited for the answer.

Renzia paused, her head snapping to the side, her stiff movements almost unsettling in their precision. Then, with a slow, mechanical motion, she held up two fingers, a sign that was as close to a response as Vivienne would ever get from the mannequin.

Vivienne let out a weak laugh, her lips still curled. "Two?" she muttered, rubbing her temple with a bloodied hand. "Thank you dear. Could you bring them over to me, darling? I want to have a little chat with them." She shifted her weight slightly, trying to push herself up with the little strength she had left, her limbs trembling with the effort.

Renzia tilted her head at Vivienne's request, the subtle creak of her frame filling the silence. Without hesitation, the mannequin turned on her heel and moved toward the far side of the room. Her stiff yet purposeful movements carried her across the wreckage, her crimson drills bouncing lightly with each step.

Vivienne managed to prop herself up on one elbow, her long tail coiling behind her in a sluggish, protective arc. Her black tongue flicked out to wet her parched lips, and she let out a low sigh. Her eyes, all six of them, flickered toward the shattered remains of the library. Blood, ash, and rubble painted a grim picture of their victory.

"I miss Rava." she murmured to herself, flexing her clawed fingers. "Let’s see if they’re useful or just another waste of effort."

Renzia soon returned, her tall frame towering over the two survivors she carried, one slung over each shoulder. She lowered them to the ground before Vivienne with care, the mannequin’s mechanical strength making the action look effortless despite the battered state of the prisoners.

Vivienne’s many eyes scanned the pair with idle curiosity, her lips curling into a sly grin as she took in their broken forms. The first was a goblin—small, wiry, and trembling from head to toe. Her green skin was marred with cuts and bruises, and one of her pointed ears had been singed at the tip. A makeshift splint had been tied hastily around her left arm, which hung limply at her side. Despite her injuries, she glared up at Vivienne with defiant, beady eyes.

The second was one of the priests. His pristine robes were now scorched and bloodied, and his right leg ended abruptly at the knee. The wound had been sealed with a crude burn, the flesh charred black. A faint shimmer of dawn aether lingered around the injury, indicating that he had managed to cauterize it himself. His face was pale and drawn, but his expression remained grim and determined as he met Vivienne’s gaze.

“Still kicking, are we?” Vivienne mused, leaning back slightly as her claws tapped rhythmically on the floor. “Well, one of you is, anyway.” Her grin widened, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “I have to say, I’m impressed. That kind of determination is rare these days.”

The goblin bared her teeth, her wiry frame trembling with both fear and defiance. Her small fists curled tightly at her sides. “Don’t think for a second I’ll grovel before you, monster,” she spat, her raspy voice brimming with unyielding resolve.

Vivienne tilted her head, her grin widening as her claws flexed lazily at her sides. “Oh, you’re feisty. I like that. But let’s be clear, little one—groveling isn’t what I want from you. Not yet, anyway.”

The priest shifted slightly, drawing Vivienne’s attention. He held his gaze steady despite the obvious strain in his jaw. When he finally spoke, it was in a harsh, guttural tongue unfamiliar to Vivienne. The thick accent carried contempt as clear as the venom in his tone.

Vivienne arched a brow, her claws tapping against her chin in mock consideration. “Oh, dear. A language barrier. How terribly inconvenient.” Her grin sharpened into something more sinister. “Well, if I can’t understand you, that means you’re of no use to me, doesn’t it?”

Without hesitation, she drove a talon into his uninjured thigh, twisting it slightly as the priest cried out in pain. His shout echoed in the cavern, mingling with the low hum of dread that permeated the air. Vivienne’s eyes glimmered as she inhaled the fear aether radiating from him, the energy crackling in her veins like a cruel symphony.

“Begone, foul creature!” the priest suddenly shouted, his voice trembling with both pain and hatred.

Vivienne froze for a moment, her grin turning curious. “Oh! I can understand you now.” Her eyes narrowed, flickering with intrigue. “Wait, what? How? All I did was... taste your fear. Could that be it?”

She clicked her tongue, considering the revelation. The flavor of his terror was rich, almost intoxicating, but its unexpected side effect intrigued her far more. A slow, predatory smile crept across her face as she leaned closer to him.

“Fascinating,” she murmured, her voice laced with mock delight. “Your fear speaks volumes. Maybe it’s fear itself that’s the universal translator. How poetic.”

The priest glared at her, his breathing ragged but defiant. The goblin shifted uneasily, her eyes darting between Vivienne and the priest as if weighing her chances of escape. Vivienne paid neither much mind, her focus pinned entirely on the trembling man before her.

“I wonder,” she continued, her tone musing, almost thoughtful, “just how much more I could learn by savoring every ounce of your terror. Do you think your deepest secrets would taste as sweet as your panic?”

The priest swallowed hard, his lips trembling as if weighing the risks of defiance. Vivienne leaned closer, her grin widening to reveal a glint of sharp teeth. “I will not give you the satisfaction, creature.” He said in his thick accent.

Vivienne let out a soft laugh, the sound low and dangerous. “Satisfaction? Darling, you underestimate me.” She leaned forward, her many eyes narrowing. “I don’t need satisfaction. I need answers. And whether you offer them willingly or not... well, that’s entirely up to you.”

The goblin growled, her small frame tensing as if preparing to strike, but Renzia stepped closer, her towering form casting an imposing shadow over the pair. The goblin hesitated, her defiance flickering for a moment as she glanced nervously at the mannequin.

Vivienne’s tail lashed lazily behind her as she watched the exchange, amusement dancing in her gaze. “Tell me, priest,” she purred, fixing her eyes on the man. “What’s your name?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Father Darnath,” he finally said, his voice clipped.

“Darnath,” Vivienne repeated, savoring the name as if tasting it. “And you, little goblin?”

The goblin scowled but said nothing.

“Ah, playing the silent type,” Vivienne said, her grin never wavering. “That’s fine. I’ll just call you... hmm...” She tapped a claw against her chin, pretending to ponder. “Ah! Let’s go with ‘Snarl.’ It suits you.”

The goblin growled again, her fists clenching tighter.

“Perfect,” Vivienne said, clapping her hands together. “Now, my dears, let’s get to the important part. What was that little stunt your friend pulled with the portal and the robed figure? Who was that, and where did they take the others?”

Father Darnath’s expression darkened, but he said nothing, his silence speaking volumes.

Vivienne sighed theatrically. “Oh, come now. You’ve already seen what I’m capable of. Do you really think your stubbornness will protect you?” She leaned in closer, her many eyes gleaming with malice. “Talk, and I might let you limp out of here alive.”

Her grin widened further, revealing the jagged edges of her hidden maw. “Or don’t. I’m happy to make you scream if that’s more your style.”

The goblin, visibly shaking, raised her hands defensively. "W-wait, wait!" she stammered, her defiance crumbling under Vivienne's predatory gaze. "I’ll talk! Just… don’t eat me or whatever it is you’re planning!"

Vivienne’s many eyes shifted to her, amusement flickering in the depths of her black orbs. “Ah, now that’s more like it,” she purred. “See, Father Darnath? Your little friend here has some sense.” She leaned back slightly, her tail flicking with a lazy rhythm. “Go on, ‘Snarl.’ Enlighten me.”

The goblin winced at the nickname but complied, her voice trembling as she spoke. “That figure wasn’t with us. I don’t know who they were, but they weren’t part of the Sovereignty. They just… showed up and started barking orders, told the priests to gather who they could and get out.”

“And you went along with it?” Vivienne asked, her tone laced with mockery.

“Are you kidding me?” the goblin shot back, a spark of her earlier defiance returning. “Do you know what they do to people like me in the Sovereignty? I was just here fixing their junk, and the next thing I know, everything’s on fire, and you’re tearing people apart!” She gestured wildly, her voice rising. “I wasn’t sticking around to ask questions!”

Vivienne tilted her head, intrigued. “People like you?”

The goblin hesitated, her gaze dropping. “Goblins,” she muttered. “We’re artificers, yeah, but we’re not ‘real’ to them. They treat us like tools, not people.” Her voice grew quieter. “They treat us like dirt, so we aren’t loyal. We just go where they tell us and fix what they tell us.”

Vivienne’s grin softened slightly, though her sharp teeth remained in view. “Ah, so you’re a survivor, not a zealot. How refreshing.” She turned her attention to Father Darnath, her tone sharpening again. “And you, Father? What’s your excuse for not bowing to my obviously superior charm and intimidation?”

Darnath met her gaze, his jaw clenched. “I serve the Sovereignty, creature. My duty is to protect its people from threats like you.”

Vivienne let out a dry laugh, her claws tapping against the stone floor. “Even the ones who would abandon you in a heartbeat? How noble.” Her grin twisted into something cruel. “Tell me about the figure. Who are they, and what did they want?”

The priest’s silence was answer enough.

Vivienne sighed, the sound exaggerated and theatrical. “You really do like making this difficult, don’t you?” Her claws twitched, the black talons catching the dim light. She began to rise, her movements deliberate and predatory. “Fine. Let’s see how long that stoicism lasts when—”

“Wait!” the goblin interrupted, holding up her good hand. “I’ll tell you what I saw!”

Vivienne paused, her grin returning. “Oh, Snarl, you’re quickly becoming my favorite. Do go on.”

The goblin swallowed hard. “I, umm, I heard some chatter from the higher ups that they were from the triumvirate or something.”

Vivienne's grin widened, and her sharp teeth glinted in the dim light. “The Triumvirate, you say?” she purred, circling the goblin like a predator savoring its prey. “Now that is an interesting tidbit. Care to elaborate?”

The goblin hesitated, her small hands trembling as she clutched at her injured arm. “I—I don’t know much! Honest! They just mentioned it in passing when that… figure gave the orders. Said something about the Triumvirate watching the Sovereignty’s moves closely, especially in places like this.”

“Places like this?” Vivienne leaned closer, her many eyes narrowing.

“A-and Serkoth,” the goblin stammered. “They said something about Serkoth being a… a key player in some plan. Something big. But that’s all I know, I swear!”

Vivienne tilted her head, her long tongue flicking out briefly as if tasting the tension in the air. “Fascinating,” she mused, her tone almost light. “You’ve been quite the fountain of information, Snarl. Far more cooperative than our stubborn priest here.”

She turned her gaze to Father Darnath, who glared at her with unwavering defiance. “Do you want to confirm or deny any of this, Father?” she asked, her voice mockingly sweet. “Or should I keep squeezing your little friend here for more?”

The priest’s jaw tightened, his silence remaining firm.

“Suit yourself,” Vivienne said with a shrug, turning her attention back to the goblin. “One last question, Snarl. This figure—what did they look like? Any distinguishing features?”

The goblin’s brow furrowed in concentration. “They were covered in robes—like, completely. Couldn’t see a face or anything. Their voice was… weird. Like it echoed even when it shouldn’t. And their movements…” She shuddered. “They didn’t move like a person. It was like they were floating more than walking. And their presence—it was heavy. Like you couldn’t breathe properly when they were near.”

Vivienne’s grin faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “Hmm. That does sound… peculiar. And potentially troublesome.”

The goblin nodded vigorously. “Yeah! Trouble! Big trouble!”

“Smart,” Vivienne said with a small chuckle, stepping back from the goblin. “Well, Snarl, congratulations. You’ve bought yourself a little more time.”

She looked down at Father Darnath, her expression darkening once again. “As for you, Father… I’m not quite done yet.”

Father Darnath’s defiance didn’t waver as Vivienne knelt down, her claws idly tracing the stone floor beside him. Her black eyes gleamed with malicious intent, her voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, Father, it’s admirable—how loyal you are to your precious Sovereignty. But loyalty is such a fragile thing, isn’t it?”

He spat at her, blood and saliva splattering against her obsidian scales. “Do your worst, monster. I won’t betray my faith.”

Vivienne tilted her head, unimpressed. “Faith, is it?.” Her claws reached out, gently brushing the edge of his burned stump where his leg had been. “Does your faith soothe the pain, Father? Does it whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you bleed?”

Darnath gritted his teeth, but the flicker of fear in his eyes betrayed him.

“Let me ask you something,” Vivienne continued, leaning closer. “The person that came for you—were they Sovereignty, or something else entirely? Where were they in the hierarchy? What are they up to, Father? And don’t make me pry it from your broken body. That gets… messy.”

The priest said nothing, his silence a final, stubborn stand.

Vivienne’s patience snapped. “Fine,” she hissed, her maw splitting open with a grotesque grin. “Let’s see how devout you really are.”

Before she could act, Snarl spoke up again, her voice trembling. “H-he’s useless! They don’t tell grunts like him anything important! Please, just—just let him go and I’ll tell you what little else I know!”

Vivienne froze, her many eyes swiveling toward the goblin. “Snarl, Snarl, Snarl,” she murmured, her voice a mixture of amusement and warning. “You’re really stepping up, aren’t you? Alright then. What’s this ‘little else’ you know?”

Snarl swallowed hard, her wide, golden eyes darting between Vivienne’s many gazes. “W-well,” she stammered, wringing her hands nervously, “they don’t really tell people like me much, you know? But I, uh, I’ve overheard stuff! Like… whispers about the Sovereignty making deals, but I don’t know the details.”

Vivienne tilted her head, her lips curling into a sharp grin. “Deals, you say? With whom?”

“W-well, I, um… maybe the triumvirate? Or someone connected to them?” Snarl ventured, her voice rising in pitch. “I swear I don’t know specifics, but I figured someone like you would… uh… connect the dots?” She winced, as if expecting a blow to land.

Vivienne studied her, the predator’s gleam never leaving her eyes. “You’re bluffing, aren’t you?”

The goblin froze, her shoulders stiffening. “W-what? No! I mean—okay, maybe I don’t know everything, but… I just didn’t want to see more bloodshed, alright?” She gestured at the carnage around them, her voice cracking. “We’ve all lost enough today. I thought if I said something useful, maybe… maybe we could all just walk away.”

Vivienne blinked once, then threw her head back and laughed—a rich, throaty sound that echoed through the blood-soaked chamber. It was a laugh filled with amusement, mockery, and just a touch of menace. “Oh, Snarl,” she drawled, her grin widening to reveal the faintest glimpse of her jagged secondary maw. “You’re trying so hard. I almost admire it.”

The goblin swallowed hard, her wide eyes darting nervously. “D-does that mean I can stay alive?”

Vivienne crouched before her, her clawed fingers idly tracing lines in the dust and blood on the floor. Her many eyes focused on the goblin, narrowing like a predator considering its prey. “For now,” she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed malice. “But don’t mistake mercy for trust. You’re here because you amuse me.”

Vivienne’s grin faded as she turned her attention to Father Darnath, her expression hardening into something cold and predatory. “You, on the other hand,” she said, her voice turning sharp as a blade, “have been less than amusing. And after cutting through priests, traitors, and sycophants all evening, I find myself running a bit… empty.”

She tilted her head toward Renzia, who stood silently nearby, slate in hand. “Sweetheart,” Vivienne said lightly, her tone almost casual, “please escort my little green friend out of the room. I wouldn’t want her delicate sensibilities offended.”

Renzia nodded without hesitation, her mechanical movements smooth yet unnervingly precise. She hoisted Snarl onto her shoulder with a strength that defied her slender frame. The goblin yelped but didn’t resist, clutching tightly to Renzia’s shoulder as she was carried toward the exit.

“W-wait!” Snarl called over her shoulder. “You don’t have to eat him! Maybe he’s not that bad!”

Vivienne’s eyes followed them for a moment before her gaze flicked back to the priest, her grin curling once again. “Adorable,” she murmured. Then she stepped closer to Darnath, her clawed feet clicking against the stone floor. She crouched down to his level, her many eyes boring into his own. “Now, Father,” she said sweetly, almost gently, “this is your last chance to tell me something useful.”

Darnath’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze unflinching. The faint smell of burnt flesh still lingered from where he had sealed his leg, and he radiated defiance despite his injuries.

Vivienne’s grin twisted into something darker, her claws twitching with anticipation. “Let me be perfectly honest with you,” she said, her voice dipping into a low growl. “I don’t care if you’re helpful. In fact, I’m counting on you being as stubborn and stoic as possible. It’ll make the ensuing meal that much more… satisfying.”

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the edge of his ear as she whispered, “But if you want to scream first, I won’t mind. In fact, I’d prefer it.”