Hello friends and lovers!
MAPPY CHAPPY DAY!!!
CW:
SpoilerPerson getting the BEG slam, multiple times actually!!! Dismemberment. BEG songs. Real fucking magic.
[collapse]
A crack of lightning arcs from the Matron’s hand as Zigdara slams her bodily into the ground, searing eyes and proceeding to shoot upward uselessly into the granite roof.
Emarial jerks over just as we’re whirling up. Bone leg slams a flat edge into her good hand, shattering every fucking bone in the big Sun Spoken’s wrist and fingers with the force of it.
She stumbles back as her weapon clatters to the floor. Hissing in pain and sort of… just a mess with two really fucked up arms. Past her we watch in horror and confusion as the Matron twists and claws at the big duenna.
“Zigdara wh–” Emarial’s eyes glance back to the duenna and Matron.
“INA!” Zigdara roars. “RUN!”
We move to help her, but Emarial steps into our path. A sort of desperate cold look on the old Sun Spoken's face as she tries to decide what to do.
Or if she can even do anything…
Behind her, Zigdara just buries her face into the Matron’s back, curls over, and slams Veletross’s face into the stone again.
And Again.
AND AGAIN!
Emarial winces as we grin. Click our bone leg on the floor. Take a step forward.
“No.” Emarial pleads as another slam sounds from behind her. “I won’t let you–”
We growl. “Move.”
She shakes her head. “You’ll have to kill me. And If Ina’s the woman I think she wants to be, She won’t let you do that.”
Need her gone. If she just… leaves then we can break our promises and go!
“Then MOVE.” We crack our neck and shake off a few of the sharp gemstone fauna still embedded in our flesh.
“No.”
We want to scream in annoyance, and only just manage to keep our voice steady. “Emarial, if you leave, everyone here can survive. If you stay, then we will have to spend more Amwella than we’d like. And will either die in the failed separation, or get killed by whoever else is on their way. No matter what, either way, these Obelisks are going to disappear tonight.”
Emarial’s face flashes anger and annoyance and… and the beginning of defeat.
“Please.” We press, letting our voice soften even more. “If… if we're the monster you think we are, wouldn’t we have just… killed you, eaten your Amwella, and done this all already? No one will die here if you just… go. Maybe take them with you?”
Another slam, punctuated by a gurgle of pain from the Matron. We glance past to see that... huh. Zigdara seems to have gotten her neck in some kind of lock between those big arms.
“I can’t.” Emarial growls. But she looks so much more tired than ever before. We just… have to take this out of her hands.
“Fine.” We spit.
She flinches as we move then. Have to get as far from her furnace as possible. And…
We look up as we run, eyes lock on the largest Obelisk in the chamber. A tilted twisting mass of blue and green and purples. Scarred with uncountable words and symbols and runes, it stands at the heart of all the rest.
Then we do as before. Jump, kick off smaller gemstones, run up a few that sit askew and tilted, and eventually land and scramble to stand atop the largest structure in the room. It’s apex only about a dozen feet from the glass roofing. We glance down, see Emarial staring up at us with surprise and awe and terror. Veletross seems to have gone still, Zigdara only just now releasing her to slump onto the floor. Doesn’t even seem to notice us as she looks about.
Deep breath, feel the World Song titter and echo all around, and we’re singing our Peeling Shrike down at the gemstones.
We have to start soft. The larger spirit instructs as we begin the symphony. Almost… almost like one would take a younger woman’s arms as she first learns of a new thing. Impressed by her early attempts but… wishing to show her what true mastery looks like.
The song is so small at first, but then it titters and rolls from us, creating a sense of wonder and anticipation to all who listen. A melody of a great ocean wave coming to crash against the rocks.
But… but water cannot crack a rock!!! The smaller spirit worries.
The older spirit smiles. Shows her the beauty of this misunderstanding. Weaves time’s horrible toll into the building song. Reaving and destroying even the most ancient things beneath its unbearable weight.
The room is shaking now. And we can’t see the other women as great vibrations seem to… to roll through it. But even with one good leg and a great deal of weariness, we cannot be moved.
For as we weave this wondrously terrifying symphony we are weight and Will and Time itself. Thoughts, Spirits, and everything beyond and behind It seem to fade. There is only the Song… And the things we will Peel from this Waking World.
A great CRACK, a horrible CRUNCH, and something beyond understanding this side of a Dream, then the gemstones simply… cease. Their Millenia old form turned to dust and powder in an instant. Ancient words and bindings twisting away into the cold and bitter Arudian winds.
And then we’re falling.
It takes us a second to recover from the song’s sudden end, twist legs, try to adjust, but it’s–
CRACK! We slam into the ground, and both spirits shudder from the impact as jolts of horrible pain roll through us. Gemstone ash comes up to meet us as we slump down into the great pile. We warble alongside the World Song for a bit. Just… fighting to sit up and avoid breathing in the dry dust around us. Move to rise… But we stumble.
Look down in surprise at… at… Our perfect bone leg has splintered. Sits askew and twisted and very impossible to walk on.
“Fucking… Great.” We hiss, then tense as we feel a great fire approaching. Look up to see Emarial moving into and through the room, both arms still very much wounded, but eyes showing how little she cares for such pains. Especially at such a sight of perfect destruction.
Soon her eyes lock on us, and turn… strange. A mix of wonder and fear and hatred. She slowly approaches.
“What…” She murmurs, both arms just… hanging limp at her sides. “What have you done?”
“Broke our promises.” We huff, pulling our leg around to examine the cracked bone.
Then we spot a second person come into the room, her clothes torn and face a mess of raking cuts. One eye is closed and bleeding.
“Zigdara!” We can’t help but call out to her as a big stupid grin overwhelms us.
At… at this person who would risk herself for us without question or hesitation it seems.
She spots us, and such relief passes over the Duenna as she runs to kneel before us. “Are… are you alright!?!”
“Less than perfect, but we’ll make it. Thanks to you.” We reach out to touch her wounded face. “Could we ask you for another favor?”
“Anything!” She nods.
“Provide us an arm to lean on, for what comes next.”
She offers us a hand, and as we stand both spirits consider the consequences, and… and… what has to happen now. The little spirit didn’t understand the weight of this decision, but is now unable to turn away as ambient songs roll from the dust around us. The larger offers support and whatever small knowledge won’t overwhelm the mind between them.
If we leave, abandon Arudia and her people to the unfurling chaotic magics, we wouldn’t be able to live with that. The smaller spirit murmurs, and not to mention those bound here to a life similar to what Lyttoral did to us. We both flinch at the command’s prickling, but it settles soon enough. So we turn to Emarial.
“Will you stand with us?” We ask calmly. “Recant what you told the Doyans and affirm our nature as Sun Spoken and Weaver paired?”
Her eyes fall to the ashes, “This isn’t… It can’t be that simple.”
“It is.” We steel ourselves for pain. “We did this for those you worried we would harm. Their bondage is something we lived through, and we will see it ended. Both here and in Lyttoral.”
The command bites hard, nearly enacts blighted Division, but… together we hold fast against the storm of pain. Let it settle. Zigdara stiffens, but… says nothing. Emarial sighs, but… then she spots something amidst the ashes. Moves to kneel and lift it as best she can. Dull horrid cold steel rises, and we stiffen. Zigdara moves to adjust us to be a little more behind her.
But our reaction is simply to the bubbling memories it triggers behind the larger spirit, not Emarial’s intentions for it. She settles the blade to be cradled passively in her wounded arms, eyes return to ours. “I will act as a guardian. Not your ally, but not your enemy. Will only raise my blade if you mean to harm the Arudian men or other innocents.”
We sigh. “Fine, just make sure they don’t start throwing lightning at us this time.”
Soon there is such a flurry of Duenna rushing into the room. Women bearing the obsidian blades, and promised cultivation stones. Most are too shocked to even consider threatening the group of strangers standing amidst the ashes.
Eventually a lady with more presence and a series of odd tails flitting behind her approaches. She bears no sword, simply a cane tipped with a glimmering red gemstone that sings of barely constrained fury. “What happened?”
We smirk at the fear she hides so well. Begin to consider the best reply, but Emarial steps forward. “Honored Doyan Xian, this is-”
It’s only then that the woman seems to pull her widened eyes from the empty room to regard us. Stares between my cracked and twisted leg and Emarial’s ruined arms. “Where are the Obelisks?”
Emarial winces, and just vaguely gestures around, and then looks at us. The woman pales as she takes in the ashes, and what they once were.
“Removed them from the Waking World.” We state plainly, letting any work of softening our voice fade. "By us."
Let her hear the ringing of two spirits joined.
Her glittering green eyes dart up to ours. “The… And who are you?”
“Inamatorii of the Sun Spoken.” We state, and let the song of our claim ring throughout the room. Causing all to snap their attention to us. "And the Spirit that burns within all Sun Spoken."
She takes a step back, eyes wide with fear. “You… No that can’t be right–”
“They are. Honored Doyan.” Emarial add as softly but firmly as possible. “I was… mistaken in my worries. They mean no harm to the fertile males of this Academy.”
Her hand grips at the cane tighter, and we see fingers begin to drift over the wretched thing and–
“Did you see Matron Veletross outside these chambers, Honored Doyan of Arudia?” We ask, bend the good leg ever so slightly.
The question causes her to pause, fingers freeze. “I did.”
We nod, “Then consider what happened to the arm of the last woman to raise one of your blighted gemstones against us.”
Emarial winces, Zigdara seems to recognize the danger then and shuffles in readiness for the need to move.
“Are you threatening me?” The Doyan's eyes narrow, but we see her growing fear plain. So we simply smile wickedly at her, a prompting of the larger spirit, somehow still hungry for more of the motion and thrill of violence.
Doyan Xian sees that in our eyes, feels some weight that she was not ready for. Fingers nearly jump away from the gemstone she was preparing to activate. “A– Apologies. I just… This is…” She looks about, seems to sag a bit under the weight of this empty room.
“Summon the other Doyans.” We prompt. “We will only speak these next things once, and let none claim ignorance as an excuse to ignore our words.”
It takes time, and there is just… no reason for anyone to talk while we wait. The crowd grows, both with duenna and many others. Women of all clothing and cultivation changes and such. But eventually four trickle out from the crowd to stand with Xian.
They share a murmuring of words, even share a few shouts, but… soon they turn and as a group approach.
The oldest Doyan steps before the rest. “We have gathered, Sun Spoken. Explain what has happened tonight, and why you are here.”
Deep breath.
Together?
Together. Promise Promise.
“We are Inamatorii, Sun Spoken and Weaver Roused. And today we peeled your Obelisks from the Waking World. Shattering their ledgers and treaties and bindings, and freed your land from their wasting blight.”
That makes more than a few of them tighten with such worry and fear. Other’s instinct is to cry out that we must be lying or insane… but the proof of our work gathers itself at the hem of their cloaks.
“Why!?!” One hisses. “What madness led you to do this?”
“The madness of freedom. Slavery is never the right path.” The echo of our voice ripples across the ashes like a breeze on the sea. “Not for the women of Arudia, her sons, or the Zeridii.”
That gets such a cacophony of reactions, but we can only absorb so much as the command bores into us. Would have driven us to our knees if not for our control and Zigdara’s strong arm that we clutch to.
“Sun Spoken Inamatorii,” The oldest member of the group calls out when her peers have quieted. “Do you mean to claim ownership of these lands then?”
We can’t help but laugh, and the sound seems to cause all around us to shuffle uncomfortably. So the softer spirit tries to soften their words. “Not at all, Honored Doyan. Only to ensure that your new laws are things of current needs, not ancient wounds.”
She nods, but… purses her lips. “And how will you decide that?”
“We won’t.” We spread our hands, palms up. “You will, with the aid of ourselves and your people. We’ve only unlocked your chains. It’ll be up to you to walk free of the bindings.”
That, more than anything, seems to make the crowd settle a bit. So we continue down that road for them. “We’ll claim the mantle as the Sun Spoken of old did. Will stand as a High Duenna and emissary to the Zeridii.” That name makes a few of the Doyans shift uncomfortably again. “We will, of course, offer pointed suggestions on certain parts of the old law you may wish to cling to. But otherwise you will be free to rebuild your new laws around some of the old.”
“Why… Why should we listen to anything you even have to say?” A younger Doyan shouts, looking back to the Duenna. “She should be bound and–”
One of the other Doyans clasps her arm, hissing quiet demands for her to stop.
“Honored Doyan.” We purr softly, but our voice is so sharp with the Amwella emitting of our merging. All here go quiet and can’t help but hear us. “That is not a Path you want to walk. Ask the Matron of Rell, or my fellow Sun Spoken, what lies at its end if you're so curious.”
ALSO ALSO Come on over to join our discord for ALL the mupples!!!
To read ahead by about 6k words (3 chapters) of BOTH my series consider supporting this silly writer on Patreon!
And to check out a DARK lesbian/trans fantasy story feel free to read Lamentations of The Dead Dreamer!
BUT BE WARNED, it is dark and very much the opposite of Sun Spoken Turn in many ways. BIG sad/trauma!!!
Read the Content Warnings!
Hello friends and lovers!
MAPPY CHAPPY DAY!!!
CW:
SpoilerPerson getting the BEG slam, multiple times actually!!! Dismemberment. BEG songs. Real fucking magic.
[collapse]
A crack of lightning arcs from the Matron’s hand as Zigdara slams her bodily into the ground, searing eyes and proceeding to shoot upward uselessly into the granite roof.
Emarial jerks over just as we’re whirling up. Bone leg slams a flat edge into her good hand, shattering every fucking bone in the big Sun Spoken’s wrist and fingers with the force of it.
She stumbles back as her weapon clatters to the floor. Hissing in pain and sort of… just a mess with two really fucked up arms. Past her we watch in horror and confusion as the Matron twists and claws at the big duenna.
“Zigdara wh–” Emarial’s eyes glance back to the duenna and Matron.
“INA!” Zigdara roars. “RUN!”
We move to help her, but Emarial steps into our path. A sort of desperate cold look on the old Sun Spoken's face as she tries to decide what to do.
Or if she can even do anything…
Behind her, Zigdara just buries her face into the Matron’s back, curls over, and slams Veletross’s face into the stone again.
And Again.
AND AGAIN!
Emarial winces as we grin. Click our bone leg on the floor. Take a step forward.
“No.” Emarial pleads as another slam sounds from behind her. “I won’t let you–”
We growl. “Move.”
She shakes her head. “You’ll have to kill me. And If Ina’s the woman I think she wants to be, She won’t let you do that.”
Need her gone. If she just… leaves then we can break our promises and go!
“Then MOVE.” We crack our neck and shake off a few of the sharp gemstone fauna still embedded in our flesh.
“No.”
We want to scream in annoyance, and only just manage to keep our voice steady. “Emarial, if you leave, everyone here can survive. If you stay, then we will have to spend more Amwella than we’d like. And will either die in the failed separation, or get killed by whoever else is on their way. No matter what, either way, these Obelisks are going to disappear tonight.”
Emarial’s face flashes anger and annoyance and… and the beginning of defeat.
“Please.” We press, letting our voice soften even more. “If… if we're the monster you think we are, wouldn’t we have just… killed you, eaten your Amwella, and done this all already? No one will die here if you just… go. Maybe take them with you?”
Another slam, punctuated by a gurgle of pain from the Matron. We glance past to see that... huh. Zigdara seems to have gotten her neck in some kind of lock between those big arms.
“I can’t.” Emarial growls. But she looks so much more tired than ever before. We just… have to take this out of her hands.
“Fine.” We spit.
She flinches as we move then. Have to get as far from her furnace as possible. And…
We look up as we run, eyes lock on the largest Obelisk in the chamber. A tilted twisting mass of blue and green and purples. Scarred with uncountable words and symbols and runes, it stands at the heart of all the rest.
Then we do as before. Jump, kick off smaller gemstones, run up a few that sit askew and tilted, and eventually land and scramble to stand atop the largest structure in the room. It’s apex only about a dozen feet from the glass roofing. We glance down, see Emarial staring up at us with surprise and awe and terror. Veletross seems to have gone still, Zigdara only just now releasing her to slump onto the floor. Doesn’t even seem to notice us as she looks about.
Deep breath, feel the World Song titter and echo all around, and we’re singing our Peeling Shrike down at the gemstones.
We have to start soft. The larger spirit instructs as we begin the symphony. Almost… almost like one would take a younger woman’s arms as she first learns of a new thing. Impressed by her early attempts but… wishing to show her what true mastery looks like.
The song is so small at first, but then it titters and rolls from us, creating a sense of wonder and anticipation to all who listen. A melody of a great ocean wave coming to crash against the rocks.
But… but water cannot crack a rock!!! The smaller spirit worries.
The older spirit smiles. Shows her the beauty of this misunderstanding. Weaves time’s horrible toll into the building song. Reaving and destroying even the most ancient things beneath its unbearable weight.
The room is shaking now. And we can’t see the other women as great vibrations seem to… to roll through it. But even with one good leg and a great deal of weariness, we cannot be moved.
For as we weave this wondrously terrifying symphony we are weight and Will and Time itself. Thoughts, Spirits, and everything beyond and behind It seem to fade. There is only the Song… And the things we will Peel from this Waking World.
A great CRACK, a horrible CRUNCH, and something beyond understanding this side of a Dream, then the gemstones simply… cease. Their Millenia old form turned to dust and powder in an instant. Ancient words and bindings twisting away into the cold and bitter Arudian winds.
And then we’re falling.
It takes us a second to recover from the song’s sudden end, twist legs, try to adjust, but it’s–
CRACK! We slam into the ground, and both spirits shudder from the impact as jolts of horrible pain roll through us. Gemstone ash comes up to meet us as we slump down into the great pile. We warble alongside the World Song for a bit. Just… fighting to sit up and avoid breathing in the dry dust around us. Move to rise… But we stumble.
Look down in surprise at… at… Our perfect bone leg has splintered. Sits askew and twisted and very impossible to walk on.
“Fucking… Great.” We hiss, then tense as we feel a great fire approaching. Look up to see Emarial moving into and through the room, both arms still very much wounded, but eyes showing how little she cares for such pains. Especially at such a sight of perfect destruction.
Soon her eyes lock on us, and turn… strange. A mix of wonder and fear and hatred. She slowly approaches.
“What…” She murmurs, both arms just… hanging limp at her sides. “What have you done?”
“Broke our promises.” We huff, pulling our leg around to examine the cracked bone.
Then we spot a second person come into the room, her clothes torn and face a mess of raking cuts. One eye is closed and bleeding.
“Zigdara!” We can’t help but call out to her as a big stupid grin overwhelms us.
At… at this person who would risk herself for us without question or hesitation it seems.
She spots us, and such relief passes over the Duenna as she runs to kneel before us. “Are… are you alright!?!”
“Less than perfect, but we’ll make it. Thanks to you.” We reach out to touch her wounded face. “Could we ask you for another favor?”
“Anything!” She nods.
“Provide us an arm to lean on, for what comes next.”
She offers us a hand, and as we stand both spirits consider the consequences, and… and… what has to happen now. The little spirit didn’t understand the weight of this decision, but is now unable to turn away as ambient songs roll from the dust around us. The larger offers support and whatever small knowledge won’t overwhelm the mind between them.
If we leave, abandon Arudia and her people to the unfurling chaotic magics, we wouldn’t be able to live with that. The smaller spirit murmurs, and not to mention those bound here to a life similar to what Lyttoral did to us. We both flinch at the command’s prickling, but it settles soon enough. So we turn to Emarial.
“Will you stand with us?” We ask calmly. “Recant what you told the Doyans and affirm our nature as Sun Spoken and Weaver paired?”
Her eyes fall to the ashes, “This isn’t… It can’t be that simple.”
“It is.” We steel ourselves for pain. “We did this for those you worried we would harm. Their bondage is something we lived through, and we will see it ended. Both here and in Lyttoral.”
The command bites hard, nearly enacts blighted Division, but… together we hold fast against the storm of pain. Let it settle. Zigdara stiffens, but… says nothing. Emarial sighs, but… then she spots something amidst the ashes. Moves to kneel and lift it as best she can. Dull horrid cold steel rises, and we stiffen. Zigdara moves to adjust us to be a little more behind her.
But our reaction is simply to the bubbling memories it triggers behind the larger spirit, not Emarial’s intentions for it. She settles the blade to be cradled passively in her wounded arms, eyes return to ours. “I will act as a guardian. Not your ally, but not your enemy. Will only raise my blade if you mean to harm the Arudian men or other innocents.”
We sigh. “Fine, just make sure they don’t start throwing lightning at us this time.”
Soon there is such a flurry of Duenna rushing into the room. Women bearing the obsidian blades, and promised cultivation stones. Most are too shocked to even consider threatening the group of strangers standing amidst the ashes.
Eventually a lady with more presence and a series of odd tails flitting behind her approaches. She bears no sword, simply a cane tipped with a glimmering red gemstone that sings of barely constrained fury. “What happened?”
We smirk at the fear she hides so well. Begin to consider the best reply, but Emarial steps forward. “Honored Doyan Xian, this is-”
It’s only then that the woman seems to pull her widened eyes from the empty room to regard us. Stares between my cracked and twisted leg and Emarial’s ruined arms. “Where are the Obelisks?”
Emarial winces, and just vaguely gestures around, and then looks at us. The woman pales as she takes in the ashes, and what they once were.
“Removed them from the Waking World.” We state plainly, letting any work of softening our voice fade. "By us."
Let her hear the ringing of two spirits joined.
Her glittering green eyes dart up to ours. “The… And who are you?”
“Inamatorii of the Sun Spoken.” We state, and let the song of our claim ring throughout the room. Causing all to snap their attention to us. "And the Spirit that burns within all Sun Spoken."
She takes a step back, eyes wide with fear. “You… No that can’t be right–”
“They are. Honored Doyan.” Emarial add as softly but firmly as possible. “I was… mistaken in my worries. They mean no harm to the fertile males of this Academy.”
Her hand grips at the cane tighter, and we see fingers begin to drift over the wretched thing and–
“Did you see Matron Veletross outside these chambers, Honored Doyan of Arudia?” We ask, bend the good leg ever so slightly.
The question causes her to pause, fingers freeze. “I did.”
We nod, “Then consider what happened to the arm of the last woman to raise one of your blighted gemstones against us.”
Emarial winces, Zigdara seems to recognize the danger then and shuffles in readiness for the need to move.
“Are you threatening me?” The Doyan's eyes narrow, but we see her growing fear plain. So we simply smile wickedly at her, a prompting of the larger spirit, somehow still hungry for more of the motion and thrill of violence.
Doyan Xian sees that in our eyes, feels some weight that she was not ready for. Fingers nearly jump away from the gemstone she was preparing to activate. “A– Apologies. I just… This is…” She looks about, seems to sag a bit under the weight of this empty room.
“Summon the other Doyans.” We prompt. “We will only speak these next things once, and let none claim ignorance as an excuse to ignore our words.”
It takes time, and there is just… no reason for anyone to talk while we wait. The crowd grows, both with duenna and many others. Women of all clothing and cultivation changes and such. But eventually four trickle out from the crowd to stand with Xian.
They share a murmuring of words, even share a few shouts, but… soon they turn and as a group approach.
The oldest Doyan steps before the rest. “We have gathered, Sun Spoken. Explain what has happened tonight, and why you are here.”
Deep breath.
Together?
Together. Promise Promise.
“We are Inamatorii, Sun Spoken and Weaver Roused. And today we peeled your Obelisks from the Waking World. Shattering their ledgers and treaties and bindings, and freed your land from their wasting blight.”
That makes more than a few of them tighten with such worry and fear. Other’s instinct is to cry out that we must be lying or insane… but the proof of our work gathers itself at the hem of their cloaks.
“Why!?!” One hisses. “What madness led you to do this?”
“The madness of freedom. Slavery is never the right path.” The echo of our voice ripples across the ashes like a breeze on the sea. “Not for the women of Arudia, her sons, or the Zeridii.”
That gets such a cacophony of reactions, but we can only absorb so much as the command bores into us. Would have driven us to our knees if not for our control and Zigdara’s strong arm that we clutch to.
“Sun Spoken Inamatorii,” The oldest member of the group calls out when her peers have quieted. “Do you mean to claim ownership of these lands then?”
We can’t help but laugh, and the sound seems to cause all around us to shuffle uncomfortably. So the softer spirit tries to soften their words. “Not at all, Honored Doyan. Only to ensure that your new laws are things of current needs, not ancient wounds.”
She nods, but… purses her lips. “And how will you decide that?”
“We won’t.” We spread our hands, palms up. “You will, with the aid of ourselves and your people. We’ve only unlocked your chains. It’ll be up to you to walk free of the bindings.”
That, more than anything, seems to make the crowd settle a bit. So we continue down that road for them. “We’ll claim the mantle as the Sun Spoken of old did. Will stand as a High Duenna and emissary to the Zeridii.” That name makes a few of the Doyans shift uncomfortably again. “We will, of course, offer pointed suggestions on certain parts of the old law you may wish to cling to. But otherwise you will be free to rebuild your new laws around some of the old.”
“Why… Why should we listen to anything you even have to say?” A younger Doyan shouts, looking back to the Duenna. “She should be bound and–”
One of the other Doyans clasps her arm, hissing quiet demands for her to stop.
“Honored Doyan.” We purr softly, but our voice is so sharp with the Amwella emitting of our merging. All here go quiet and can’t help but hear us. “That is not a Path you want to walk. Ask the Matron of Rell, or my fellow Sun Spoken, what lies at its end if you're so curious.”
ALSO ALSO Come on over to join our discord for ALL the mupples!!!
To read ahead by about 6k words (3 chapters) of BOTH my series consider supporting this silly writer on Patreon!
And to check out a DARK lesbian/trans fantasy story feel free to read Lamentations of The Dead Dreamer!
BUT BE WARNED, it is dark and very much the opposite of Sun Spoken Turn in many ways. BIG sad/trauma!!!
Read the Content Warnings!
