"Vivi? You alive there?" Rava’s voice carried through the darkness, distant but clear.

  Vivienne groaned softly, her body sck against the ground. The energy to even speak felt like a luxury. “Somewhat.”

  There was the sound of footsteps g over debris, stopping just beyond the haze of aether still lingering in the air. “Right,” Rava muttered, her voireadable. "I'm going to che the travellers. Don't keel over on me, yeah?"

  Vivienne didn’t reply, barely lifting herself to watch Rava’s silhouette disappear toward the camp. The silehat followed felt heavy, oppressive. She sank back down into the patch of earth she'd cimed, letting herself be swallowed by the stillness.

  The wolf’s emotions g to her, raw and feral. They tore through her like jagged gss: rage, hunger, fear... loss. The memories were broken things, fragments that flickered and died before she could grasp them fully.

  A fsh of light—fire crag in a vilge.

  A guttural scream, cut short.

  The howl of wolves beh a shattered sky.

  Vivienne winced, her cws digging into the dirt as the images tore through her mind. They weren’t hers, but they felt close, familiar. The beast had been more than a mindless predator. Its pain, its ahey were real, rooted in something deeper than mere survival.

  The Dusk Aether swirled withiangled with those lingering echoes. It resisted her even now, as though the creature’s will refused to die entirely. For a moment, she felt as though her own thoughts were slipping, as if the wolf’s rage might take root in her.

  “No,” she growled, her voice hoarse and fractured. “Yone. You’re mine now.”

  But even as she said it, she k wasn’t true. She’d taken its aether, devoured it, but what lingered inside her wasn’t something she could fully trol. The power was hers, but the burden of what came with it was unavoidable.

  She let her head fall back against the ground, her many eyes closing. She needed rest, not just to recover her strength but to sift through the storm left behind by the creature’s death. To figure out what was hers—and what wasn’t.

  For a moment, her thoughts strayed to the travellers, to Rava, to the choices that had brought her here. A faint smile tugged at her lips, bitter and fleeting.

  “Just another monster eating monsters,” she murmured to herself, the words barely audible in the night. Then she fell silent, letting the fragments py out in her mind as the night wore on.

  Rava strode bato the camp, her steps deliberate and steady, her presenanding. The travellers stood stiffly, ons still clutched tightly in their hands—sharp bdes, sturdy spears, and heavy hammers. Their grips hadn’t loosened even after the beast was sin, and their eyes followed Rava like predators watg an unknown threat.

  She stopped just shy of the firelight, her sharp gaze sweeping over them. “It’s dead,” she said simply.

  The tension in the air didn’t dissipate. If anything, it thied. One of the travellers, a broad-shouldered man with streaks of blood across his tunic—whether his or someone else’s was unclear—shifted uneasily, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword.

  “And her?” he asked, his voice tight with suspi.

  Rava’s expression didn’t ge, but the fai flicker of irritation passed through her eyes. “She’s fine.” Her tone was firm, leaving no room fument.

  “Fine,” araveller echoed, his tone almost incredulous. “What even is she? That thing—”

  Rava cut him off sharply, taking a step forward. “She’s the reason you’re all still breathing. You might want to remember that.” Her words were a low growl, quiet but carrying enough weight to make even the boldest of them hesitate.

  The man faltered, gng at the others, but no one spoke. Their wariness hadn’t gone away, but her had their fear of the alternative.

  Rava took a step back, her posture easing slightly. “Keep your ons if it makes you feel better,” she said with a shrug. “But if any of you so much as think of using them on her, you’ll be dealing with me .”

  Her words settled over the group like a sm b. Slowly, relutly, the travellers began to rex their stahough none of them dared to lower their oirely.

  Satisfied, Rava turned her ba them without another word and began making her way toward the edge of the camp.

  Vivienne y in the shadows, her body heavy and unmoving, though her mind was far from quiet. The wolf’s aether coursed through her, a votile storm of emotions and fragments of memory that refused to settle.

  There was so much rage. It cwed at her insides like fire, searing through her thoughts. Beh the fury, though, was something else—something more visceral. Loss. Grief.

  And then the images came again, disjointed and vivid:The warmth of a den, the quiet panionship of others.Intruders. Gleaming steel, cold hands, and unfeeling eyes.The den’s safety, destroyed. The blood of packmates staining the earth.

  Vivie out a low groan, her cwed hands dragging through the dirt as she tried to ground herself. The memories weren’t hers, but they felt too real. Too raw.

  Her breath came in shallos as the wolf’s emotions tried to drown her. She could almost hear its thoughts—or assed for thoughts. Protect. Avenge. Destroy.

  She forced herself to focus, to separate herself from the remnants of the beast. “I’m not you,” she hissed through gritted teeth. Her voice trembled, but her vi held firm.

  It took everything she had to push the lingering fragments aside. Slowly, painstakingly, the storm inside her began to subside, leaving her drained but still standing.

  Vivienne’s many eyes shifted toward the distant glow of the campfire. She could hear Rava’s voice, steady and anding, carrying across the distance.

  She smirked weakly, a hint of bitterness creeping into her expression. “Alig up the pieces, aren’t you?” she muttered to herself.

  With a deep breath, she forced herself upright. Her limbs trembled, her form flickering unsteadily, but she mao stay on her feet.

  The memories might fade with time, or they might linger forever. Either way, Vivienne would carry them. Each fragment of pain, of longing, of loss—they etched themselves into her, indelible and raw. She could feel them, like whispers on the edge of her thoughts, remnants of lives loinguished.

  She kheir pain. Each person and creature that had been ed by the beast’s will, she uood them now, their stories as real to her as her own. They were voices in a choir of sorrow, ahere was a kind of beauty in their persistence.

  “No,” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over the night’s quiet hum. “You won’t be fotten. I’ll hold on to this. To all of you.”

  The promise settled something within her, a fragile but resolute peace. The storm of emotions began to quiet, not erased but accepted. It was as if the wolf’s essence, so alien and hostile before, now found a home withihe echoes of its rage softened, repced by a solemn uanding.

  Vivienne drew in a deep breath, her form stabilising as the st vestiges of turmoil gave way to crity. Her body felt heavier, stronger, as though the memories themselves had bee a part of her foundation. She straightehe faint shimmer of Dusk Aether rippling across her skin, not in chaos but in harmony.

  She let her eyes close for a moment, listening to the night. Somewhere beyond the camp, an owl hooted, its call grounding her in the here and now. For the first time in what felt like hours, she didn’t feel like she was drowning. She felt... whole.

  Yenhr's light tio spread across the ndscape, bathing the forest in soft gold as m fully cimed the horizon. Vivienne remained in her hydra-like form, her body heavy with exhaustion but her resolve steady. She watched as the travellers stirred, their movements cautious, ons still within reach.

  Rava approached the group, keeping her posture rexed but her expression firm. She spoke with a calm authority. “We o get moving. The sooner we put some distaween us and whatever else is lurking out here, the better.”

  One of the travellers, a man clutg a spear with knuckles white as bone, g Vivienne. “And what about… her?” His voice wavered, the question ced with both awe and trepidation.

  “She’s with me,” Rava said firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate. “She just saved all of you from that thing. Unless you’re pnning to take on the beast yourselves, I’d suggest showing a little gratitude.”

  The group exged uain gnces, but the tension in their shoulders didn’t fully ease. One womaated, her gaze flickeriween Rava and Vivienne before she lowered her bde. “Fine. But if she turns on us—”

  “She won’t,” Rava cut in, her voice sharp as a bde.

  Tension lingered like a storm cloud, thid oppressive, as the group quietly gathered their belongings. Finally, Drenna, the de facto leader of the travellers, broke the silence. Her voice was measured but firm.

  “Enough,” she said, cutting through the uh a g the others. “My barrier wouldn’t have held without the help of her… friend.” Her gaze flickered toward Vivienne, who li the edge of the group, her hydra form still t and ominous in the m light.

  With a weary sigh, Drenna turo Rava. “Best you and your friend leave, Lekine. You've done enough.”

  Rava’s ears twitched, but she didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she folded her arms and studied the group with a faint frown. “Funny way of saying thank you,” she remarked dryly, but her tone cked real venom. “But fine. We’re heading out anyway.”

  Dren her gaze, exhaustioched into her face. “They’re scared, and I ’t bme them. That… thing she did—” Her voice trailed off as she gestured vaguely at Vivienne. “It’s not something most people just... ignore.”

  Rava’s expression softened slightly, though she kept her posture defensive. “Fair enough. But for what it’s worth, you’d all be dead without her.”

  Drenna didn’t argue, only nodded curtly.

  Rava turned, her tail flig on frustration, and walked over to Vivienne. “Looks like our time here’s up,” she said, her tone lighter. “Ready to move on?”

  Vivienne shifted, her body unduting with a quiet, unnatural fluidity as her form began to tract. Her limbs vanished, merging into the mass of her hydra shape, each head twitg with a barely tained huhe air around her seemed to hum with a straension, her aura thiing as the transformation took hold. She could feel the weight of the ge, the pull of something a and primal, but she pushed it down, fog oask at hand. With a flicker of determination in her gaze, she spoke, her voice a lo, "Ready as I'll ever be."

  The two started off, leaving the travellers to their murmured discussions. As they moved deeper into the forest, the light of Yenhr filtering through the opy, Rava gnced sideways at Vivienne.

  “You hahat better than I thought you would,” Rava said, her toral but her eyes keen.

  “I’m too tired to care,” Vivienne replied. “They’ll fet me soon enough, and that’s probably for the best.”

  Rava huffed a ugh. “Not likely. You’re the kind of nightmare that sticks with people.”

  Vivie the ent hang in the air, her focus drifting inward. The memories of the wolf were quieter now, settling into the depths of her being. The emotions still lingered, a faint undercurrent of sorre, and defiance, but they no longer cwed at her mind.

  “Let’s just keep moving,” she said finally, her voice steady but subdued.

  Rava nodded. “Agreed. There’s a vilge not far from here. We rest and figure out what’s .”

  As they walked, the forest seemed to breathe around them, the tension of the m giving way to a tentative calm. But even in the quiet, Vivienne couldn’t shake the feeling that the events of the night would follow her, a shadow that wouldn’t easily fade.

  SupernovaSymphony