Mother of Midnight

Chapter 92 – Good Talk

Renzia followed the creature at a measured distance, her movements precise and deliberate, blending seamlessly into the shadowed expanse of the steppe. The grasses swayed gently around her, masking her presence as she tracked the creature through the moonlit landscape. She watched intently, noting its hulking frame and the faint glow of its claws as it moved with an unnatural grace. Whatever this thing was, it navigated the steppe like a predator that had long claimed it as its own.

The creature paused occasionally, lifting its head as if sniffing the air, its glowing amber eyes scanning the horizon. Each time it stopped, Renzia froze, lowering herself into the grass to avoid detection. Her featureless face tilted slightly, observing its behavior with a mannequin’s unnerving patience. It wasn’t aimless; it had a purpose, but what it was searching for remained unclear.

She trailed the beast for several minutes, the silence broken only by the faint rustling of grass and the occasional metallic chitter of the distant duskharrow. The predator's tail swayed with unsettling rhythm, its bristled end rattling softly. As it moved further away from the camp, Renzia began to widen her search, slipping to the side and circling the area in a broad arc.

Her sharp, calculated steps brought her to a patch of flattened grass, where deep gouges marred the earth. She crouched down, tracing the marks with a cloth-covered finger. The grooves were fresh, likely made by the creature’s claws, but they were deeper than she expected, as if the beast had been testing its strength—or sending a warning.

Further along, she found the remains of something it had likely hunted: a shredded carcass of an animal she didn’t recognize, its body mangled beyond recognition. The air around the remains carried a faint shimmer, a telltale sign of residual aether. This wasn’t just a predator; it was something warped by aether’s influence, its presence disturbing the natural balance of the steppe.

Renzia straightened, her rigid frame creaking faintly, and moved on. The creature’s trail led her to a shallow depression in the steppe, where the ground dipped slightly. It was here she spotted it again, its massive form partially obscured by tall grasses. The creature was circling, its glowing claws scraping the earth in long, deliberate arcs. Sparks danced with each strike, casting brief, flickering light across its jagged, armored frame.

She watched intently as it roared, the sound a deep, guttural rumble that shook the ground beneath her feet. The grass around it rippled outward, and the air itself seemed to grow heavier. The creature lashed its tail, the bristles creating a sharp, grating sound that made her wooden frame vibrate faintly.

Renzia tilted her head, studying the beast. Its movements were precise but agitated, as though it were searching for something hidden beneath the steppe. Another roar echoed across the plain, shorter but just as intense, sending a crack through the ground that spread in thin fissures. The display of raw power was unnerving, but Renzia remained still, her eyeless face locked on the creature.

After several more moments of observation, she began to retreat, doubling back toward the camp while continuing to scan the steppe for any additional threats. Her circuitous route brought her near a cluster of jagged stones protruding from the grass, where she paused to check for any other signs of movement. The steppe was still, save for the faint rustling of the wind and the distant growl of the predator.

Convinced there was nothing else lurking nearby, she finally turned toward the ward’s faint glow. Her movements were swift and fluid, covering the distance in silence until she slipped back through the barrier.

Renzia rushed straight to Vivienne and Rava, her gestures quick and precise as she mimicked the creature’s claws scraping the ground, its roaring, and its massive size. Her body language conveyed urgency, her featureless head tilting to emphasize the danger it posed. Whatever it was, the message was clear: the creature was not something to be ignored.

“Renzia, sweetheart, use your writing,” Vivienne said sweetly, her tone patient but firm as she gestured toward the slate tucked into the mannequin’s cloth-wrapped frame.

Renzia froze for a moment, her gestures halting as if reluctant to stop mid-explanation. Slowly, she retrieved the slate and a piece of chalk from her tattered dress, her movements precise but hurried. Her hands worked with an urgency that made the chalk screech faintly against the surface as she scribbled furiously.

The words came quickly, sharp and deliberate:

Large predator. Clawed. Heavy. It glows. Making noise. Not aimless—searching. Aether everywhere.

She paused briefly, her cloth-wrapped fingers smudging some of the chalk in her haste to continue. Below her first frantic description, she added:

It is breaking the ground. Strong. Hunting, or angry. Dangerous. Did not see me.

Rava stepped closer, her tail curling slightly as she peered over Vivienne’s shoulder to read the slate. “Glows? Like the duskharrow?”

Renzia shook her head, tapping the word “glows” for emphasis before mimicking the arcs of light she had seen with quick, fluid motions of her hands. Her gestures were sharp, precise, and eerily lifelike for something with no visible face or features.

“Like sparks?” Vivienne guessed, watching Renzia’s motions.

The mannequin paused, then nodded quickly, her head tilting in a series of exaggerated bobs. She wrote again:

Not bright. Faint. Its claws glow when they hit ground.

Rava straightened, her frown deepening. “Aether beast. Probably mutated, or something worse.”

Vivienne glanced at the slate, her brow furrowing. “If it’s leaving traces of aether everywhere, it’s dangerous for more than just its size. That kind of energy warps everything around it.”

Renzia’s fingers moved to the slate again, her writing taking on a more frenzied pace:

Steppes cracking under it. Stronger than duskharrow.

Rava let out a sharp exhale, her ears twitching. “Stronger? That’s not ideal.”

Vivienne tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “It sounds like it’s territorial—or maybe guarding something. Did it seem defensive or just destructive?”

Renzia hesitated, her cloth-covered frame going unnaturally still as she thought. Then she wrote:

Agitated. Circling. Not random.

“It’s looking for something,” Rava muttered, her tail swishing anxiously. “Or someone.”

Renzia tapped the last sentence on the slate, then mimicked the creature’s glowing claws striking the ground again, her wooden frame emitting a faint creak with the force of her movements. Whatever the beast was, its power was undeniable—and its intent unsettling.

Vivienne glanced toward the edge of the ward, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We need to decide quickly. If it’s stronger than the duskharrow, we can’t afford to let it get any closer.” She turned her gaze back to Renzia. “Thank you, dear. You did wonderfully.”

Renzia nodded stiffly, her body shifting with an almost human tension as she clutched the slate to her chest. The message she conveyed was clear: the creature was a significant threat, and time was running out.

Rava chewed on her lip, eyes narrowed in thought as the weight of the situation settled in. “Sounds like a glareclaw. Our first night into our trip and our luck is this bad. Almost suspiciously so.” She shot Vivienne a pointed look, but the shorter woman merely shrugged, unaffected by the looming danger.

“I think we will need to dismantle the ward temporarily to take care of it,” Rava continued, her voice low and serious. “A glareclaw would be able to get into it after a while, especially with that… glow it’s got going on. If we don’t act fast, we’re sitting ducks.”

Vivienne’s ears perked up at the mention of action. “Snack time?” she asked, her voice light, the promise of violence and hunger making her smile curl into something predatory.

Rava rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching into an involuntary grin. She couldn’t suppress it; Vivienne’s appetite was infectious in its own way. “I guess so,” she said with a resigned chuckle.

With little else to say, Rava made her way to one of the warding rods stuck into the ground. She crouched low, her tail curling slightly behind her as she chanted softly under her breath, the ancient words of protection unspooling into the air. The shimmering barrier that had encased the camp flickered, then dissipated in a gentle wave of light. She placed the rod down beside her tent with care, her expression neutral but her posture tense.

“So, Viv, do you want my help, or are you going to hunt alone?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement and concern.

Vivienne turned, her claws idly flexing as if testing their sharpness. With a casual wave of her hand, she dismissed the offer. “I got this, probably. I’ll shout if I need help,” she replied with a smirk that made her black eyes glimmer. She pivoted on her heel, her tail flicking behind her as she strode off in the direction Renzia had come from, her steps slow but deliberate.

Rava exhaled a long breath, her gaze lingering on Vivienne’s retreating form before turning back to the fire. She sank down onto the ground beside it, her ears still alert and twitching at every distant sound, her eyes scanning the darkness as though daring it to try something.

Across the flickering flames, Kivvy’s small frame trembled, her wide eyes darting nervously between Rava and the dark horizon where Vivienne had disappeared. “Are... are we gonna be okay?” the goblin asked, her voice trembling as she hugged her knees to her chest.

Rava leaned back slightly, her gaze softening as she looked at Kivvy. “Vivienne can handle herself,” she said firmly, though her ears remained taut, betraying her vigilance. “She’s tougher than she looks. But just in case, we’ll be ready here.”

Kivvy shifted uncomfortably, her small hands wringing at the hem of her tunic. “I wasn’t talking about her. I was talking about us. I’ve seen what she can do. You should have seen it down there. She’s a monster,” she said, her voice trembling and filled with fear.

Rava quirked a brow, leaning forward slightly. “What did happen down there? She hasn’t told me much, and she didn’t tell Narek much either.”

Kivvy’s eyes widened, and her voice dropped to a whisper as if saying it louder would summon the horrors she remembered. “She ate people! Ate them! Then tore through the metal of their armor like it was parchment and just kept eating and eating and eating. There was so much blood. So, so much blood.” Her voice cracked as she hugged herself tightly, trembling at the memory.

“Really? I’ve seen her incapacitate people, but never kill them,” Rava replied, her tone neutral but her tail twitching slightly.

Kivvy shook her head violently, her voice gaining a panicked edge. “So many dead. I don’t even know why she spared me. I don’t know why she doesn’t kill the last witness. She was going to eat that priest, but… I don’t know how, but I managed to convince her not to. He was as much a bastard as the rest of them, but… I just couldn’t see it happen again.” She shivered, her body folding into itself as if to hide from her own words.

Rava’s frown deepened, her sharp eyes studying Kivvy closely. “I think I’ll need to have a chat with her about it later,” she said slowly, her tone more thoughtful than accusatory. “But I’m more curious about something else. If she scares you so much, why stick around? You don’t seem to be too scared of her most of the time.”

Kivvy hesitated, her gaze darting to the fire. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “She’s terrifying, sure. But she also saved me. And she hasn’t hurt me since, not really. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen what she’s capable of that I think… maybe it’s better to stay close? Safer, I guess? Like… like a wolf you’ve fed before. You just hope it remembers you.”

Rava’s lips twitched into a faint, wry smile. “You know, wolves don’t usually eat people; they try to avoid them,” she said, her tone tinged with a teasing lilt. She paused, letting the words settle before softening her voice. “But I get it. You’re surviving. It makes sense.”

Kivvy nodded slowly, though the tension in her small frame didn’t ease entirely. “Do you think she’ll turn on us? On you?” she asked, her voice quiet but weighted with apprehension.

Rava’s gaze drifted toward the dark horizon where Vivienne had disappeared, her ears tilting slightly as if listening for any distant signs of trouble. “Not unless we give her a reason to,” she said firmly. “And I don’t plan to. What she is can be… unnerving at times, but she has a good heart, I think. You should see her when she talks about her family.” There was a faint warmth in her tone, a hint of admiration despite the unsettling topic.

Kivvy swallowed hard, hugging her knees closer as she stared into the fire. “She was talking about her runts while you were off fighting the giant terrifying bug,” she murmured. “It was like she was suddenly a completely different person. No hint of the person-eating monster.”

Rava nodded thoughtfully, the ghost of a smile flickering across her lips. “Well, as far as I know, she’s only killed traitors and criminals. So, while I admit it’s a bit disturbing…” She hesitated, her voice dropping into a more serious register. “I think it’s overall a positive thing. She’s… a force of nature, in her own way. A storm you’d rather have at your back than tearing through your camp.”

Kivvy’s eyes flicked up to meet Rava’s, wide and uncertain. “But what if that storm changes direction?”

Rava’s gaze sharpened, and her tail gave a slow, deliberate flick behind her. “Then I’ll end her myself if she turns her hunger on innocents,” she said with quiet conviction. Her tone was steady, but there was a trace of sadness in her words, a reluctant edge to the promise. “But I don’t think it will come to that. She’s dangerous, yes, but she’s not mindless. She chooses. And so far, she’s chosen to protect us.”

Kivvy frowned, her expression pensive as she stared into the flames. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered.

“I am,” Rava replied simply, her ears twitching as she glanced toward the darkness again. “For now, we focus on what’s ahead. Let’s trust her to handle the glareclaw and do our part if it comes down to it.”

“What exactly is my part?” asked Kivvy, her voice uncertain as she glanced between Rava and the dark expanse where Vivienne had vanished.

Rava tilted her head slightly, her ears twitching in thought. “If we need something fixed or blown up, that’s your part,” she replied with a small, teasing smirk.

Kivvy blinked, her brows furrowing. “Blown up? We’re sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, and you think I brought boomsticks for fun?”

Rava chuckled softly, her tail flicking lazily behind her. “Honestly, yes. But it’s not just about the boomsticks. You’ve got a sharp mind, Kivvy. You’re resourceful. That’s what counts out here. If a glareclaw or anything else gets too close, you’ll figure out how to tip the scales in our favor.”

Kivvy shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the straps of her leather gloves. “What if I can’t? What if—”

“Stop,” Rava interrupted firmly, her tone brooking no argument. Her sharp, golden eyes locked onto Kivvy’s. “None of that. You’ve survived this long, haven’t you? You’re here now. That tells me enough.”

Kivvy looked away, the firelight dancing in her eyes. “I guess… I just don’t want to mess it up.”

“None of us do,” Rava said, her voice softening. “That’s why we watch each other’s backs. You’re not alone in this. None of us are.”

The goblin glanced up at Rava, her lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “You’re annoyingly good at this pep talk thing, you know.”

Rava shrugged, her smirk returning. “I think Vivienne is rubbing off on me.” She leaned back slightly, ears swiveling again as she kept an eye on the horizon.

“Yeah half the town could hear that the other night.” Deadpanned the goblin.