Vivienne paused, letting her gaze linger on the wolf-woman before her. There was a question hangiween them, unspoken, as she weighed how much of her ins she could safely reveal. For all she knew, Rava could be as dangerous as she looked—colr and all, especially sidering that whatever reason had brought Rava here had been severe enough for such a cruel, restrictive punishment. The colr itself was a mystery, a device likely meant to suppress her abilities, yet it clearly hadn’t taken away Rava’s sharp suspi or fiertensity.

  “New Zeand,” Vivienne finally rumbled.

  “I’ve not heard of this city before,” said Rava carefully, her brows drawing together.

  “try,” Vivienne corrected, rolling the word out slowly. “It’s a small isnd nation very far from here.”

  Rava tilted her head, scepticism sharpening her gaze. “How do you know it’s far from here if you don’t know where ‘here’ is?” Her tone grew mgressive, as if Vivienne’s story didn’t sit well with her.

  Vivienne shifted her misty form, feeling an unusual respoo the iion. The strange part wasn’t Rava’s rea; it was her own. Arm was building in her senses, but the feeling wasn’t ced with fear. It should be there—fear was logical in this moment. Instead, her emotio dulled, as if her current body somehow blocked them from taking full effect. Steeling herself, she let out a low, grumbling sigh, almost imitating how she might have breathed in her old body.

  “It isn’t in this world,” she finally admitted.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “So is an intelligent nightmare.”

  Rava stared at her with intense scrutiny, eyes narrowed. The moment stretched, taut and tense, until finally, to Vivienne’s relief, the tension snapped. Rava let out a hearty, if slightly pained, ugh, and the air between them softened.

  “Agreed! So you,” Rava said, shaking her head in disbelief, “you died in your world, spoke with an elder deity, and now you’re here on Nymoria, as aherbeast that shouldn’t be able to speak, let alone possess intelligence?”

  “That sums it up, yes.”

  “Then going off what you said, you didn’t know what aether was before. Is the aether in your world thin, perhaps?”

  Viviehought about that, unsure. “I don’t think we had aether at all,” she admitted, her voicertain. “As far as I knew, aether did, nor any gods.”

  “But everything needs aether to survive,” Rava scoffed, in a matter-of-fact, as though it were a truth as simple as breathing. “How would a world form without the hand of the gods?”

  Vivienne fell silent, chewing on this information. Just because no one oh could manipute aether, or even se, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Who was she to say? Her people hadly sidered the existence of elder deities until she’d met one in person. This deity—Akhenna, as she’d introduced herself—had brought her here, and the memory still filled Vivieh a mixture of awe and fusion. Still, there was no real way of cheg any of this, not unless she somehow got back to her world. The possibility of that seemed absurd now, a closed door.

  “Well, I could tell you how ps formed. Astronomy was a minor passion of mihough now that I know gods exist, who knows how much of that knowledge applies.” Replied Vivieh a body-enpassing shrug.

  Vivienated for a moment. “Do you think I could use the aether?” she asked tentatively, curiosity prig.

  Rava let out a short, barking ugh. “Everything use aether, from the smallest animals to the a giants. You, my strange friend, are made of aether.”

  “R-right. Well.” Vivienne shrank a little, feeling foolish and slightly overwhelmed by how alien this new life was.

  Rava watched her for a moment, her ughter settling into something kinder. “e on, we should get out of here.” She spped her knees and pushed herself to her feet. “I haveen in over a week, and with this colr cutting off my aether, I’ve barely mao survive off a few rats that found a ast you.”

  “Lead the way?” Vivienne said, her voice quieter, still adjusting to the idea of relying on someone else so entirely. Ba her old life, independence had beerength. It was something her husband would always tease her about, gently remindihat no one could do everything alone. She felt a pang, thinking of him, w how he was faring. If he was still alive.

  The memories were there, close but just out of reach, like a mist hanging over a riverbank. She could feel the moments before her death, a strange and hazy swirl at the back of her mind. But each time she tried to focus oails, they slipped away, elusive as smoke. She was left with only the certainty of absence, an ache for the life she’d left behind, for the man she’d loved.

  The strange, distant world of Nymoria loomed around her, but already, she missed home. She missed him.

  They reached the door and Rava grunted as she braced her shoulder against the heavy wooden door, its worn frame looming above her, nearly half again as tall as she was. With a determined huff, she leaned her weight into it, straining her muscles, which were already weakened from weeks without proper sustenance. Vivienne slid up alongside her and pressed against the door with her shadowy form, fog all her might on the effort. Yet, even uheir birength, the door barely budged. It was as if the very wood itself resisted their will, unmoved and stubborn.

  But then, to Vivienne’s surprise, she felt her form start to slip uhe door. It was like water seeking the path of least resistance, flowing into cracks and crevices too small for her to have even noticed. One moment, she ressing against the unyielding wood, and the , she was oher side, spilling through the gap as if she had no mass at all.

  Disoriented, Vivienne looked around and found herself beh a colle of wooden furniture, old and heavy, yet surprisingly untouched by rot. The pieces were yered over each other in a haphazard barricade, clearly inteo keep someo—or perhaps, in. She slid through their shadows, barely toug them, until she was free of their fines.

  With a sigh, she slipped bader the furniture and slid herself uhe door once again, her form seamlessly seeping through. When she reappeared oher side, she saw that Rava hadn’t noticed her abseill brag herself and pushing fruitlessly against the door, her face teh effort.

  “There are several pieces of furniture pressed against the door oher side,” Vivienne rumbled, her voice a low vibration eg through the narrow hall.

  Rava let out a groan and slumped against the door in weary defeat. Vivieed how the proud lekine’s strength seemed to be fading, the exhaustioched into her every movement. She could see Rava’s hunger as a tangible thing, a need pressing down on her like a weight.

  But more than that, Vivienne could feel Rava’s fear, her gnawing ahat they might be trapped here, that she might starve before they could escape. The fear hovered in the air, rid almost… inviting. It seemed to call out to her in a way she’d never experienced before, like it was something she could touch, hold, or even—

  “What are you doing?” Rava snapped, her voice sharp, pulling Vivienne from her trance.

  Vivienne flinched, her tendril recoiling as if scalded. What was she doing? She wasn’t sure. There was a gnawing hunger deep inside her, and that fear… it seemed so close, so tangible. She’d thought of her favourite foods, tried to summon up memories of f fvours, but they brought no sense of satisfa. The idea felt ft, hollow.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed. “I’m not sure. I could feel your fear, and it was just… right there for me to…”

  She trailed off, uain, watg Rava’s expression shift between curiosity and weariness. Rava let out a heavy sigh and slumped to the ground, her gaze fixed on the cold stoh them.

  “I think you aren’t used to your nature,” she said, her voice softened by a note of pity. “Do you know what nightmares feed on?”

  Vivienated, pieg together the fragments of her own instinct. “I think… fear? The thought of my favourite foods does nothing for me.”

  “Exactly.” Rava’s face tightened as she shifted painfully, wing. “Nightmares usually sneak into pces where people or animals sleep. They forightmares upon their victims and then drink in the fear-ced aether that their terror creates.”

  “Oh.” Vivien a pang of something akin to shame, her dark form rippling with the emotion. The word "pest" drifted through her thoughts, and it felt like a brand. To be reduced to a creature that fed on fear, slinking around as some monstrous pest… It made her want to recoil, to hide from herself. How was she supposed to stand against a god when her very nature felt so pitiful?

  “I see.”

  Rava pihe bridge of her nose in frustration, sighing.

  “Look, I know it’s not your fault. You ’t help it.” She lifted her eyes, meeting Vivienne’s gaze with surprising softness. “If you o, you drink a bit of my fear. Just… don’t take too much, or you’ll drain my aether reserves. Nightmares usually leave their victims exhausted, and I’m already worse off than I’m letting on.”

  Vivienne perked up slightly, tendrils trembling with a mix of shame and hunger. She reached out, tentatively pg a tendril on Rava’s leg, feeling a rich, fear-ced stream of aether flow into her. It was intoxig, flooding her senses with an iy she’d never known. Every particle of her being seemed to alight, tasting and abs the essence of that fear.

  It felt exquisite.

  And she wanted more.

  “Stop,” Rava gasped. “STOP!”

  Vivienne flinched, jerking back her tendrils, horror rippling through her. She could still feel the lingering euphoria, the way the aether spread through her like wildfire, intoxig and pure. She hadn’t even realised she’d taken too much. The hunger had seized her, taken hold of her without warning, and she’d lost trol. She shuddered, trying to shake off the sensation as her dozens of eyes turo Rava, guilt prig within her.

  “You took too much,” Rava said, her breaths ragged.

  The pang ret Vivien was sharp, biting. She’d barely exerted herself to take the aether—it had been so easy, far too easy. Ahought flickered in her mind: perhaps she could take just a little more. But she recoiled from the thought, horrified. She folded over herself, shrinking inward in shame. She’d tasted something so deeply fulfilling, and in that moment, she’d lost herself to it.

  “I… I am so sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “It’s… fine,” Rava said, though her voice was tinged with exhaustion. “You didn’t know.” She took a long breath, as if to steady herself. “I’ll need some time to replenish my reserves, though.”

  Vivien a swell of guilt, coupled with a fierce desire to help. It was her fault that Rava was weakened, and Rava was already extending so much kio a stranger who, for all she knew, could drain her dry in a moment of weakness. A thought formed—ahat seemed almost ughable in its audacity.

  “May I try something?” Vivienne asked, voice pleading. “I promise I won’t take more.”

  Rava nodded cautiously, watg her warily. Vivieended her tendrils, gently pg them on Rava once more. She focused, searg for that feeling she’d felt before—the way the aether had flowed through her so naturally. As she trated, she felt something clito pce, like a dam breaking. Suddenly, she could see the aether around her, shimmering and swirling in intricate patterns throughout the hall. It was everywhere, ambient and alive.

  Fog on that sensation, she began to draw the ambieher into herself, feeling her form expand slightly with each tendril she absorbed. Then, just as carefully, she tried to reverse it, pushing the aether back through her tendrils and into Rava.

  A wave of nausea swept through her, as if she were expelling a part of herself with each thread of aether. She could feel her form shrinking, recoiling as if rejeg the sensation. This aether cked the delicious, addictive edge of fear-ced energy, but she forced herself to tinue. Slowly, she could see Rava’s faining vitality, her cheeks losing their gauntness, her breathing steadier.

  “Oh, that feels good,” Rava murmured, her expressioing into bliss.

  After several minutes, Rava raised her hand, signalling Vivieo stop. “That’s enough.” She blinked, her eyes bright with curiosity. “What… what did you just do?”

  “I think… I drew iher from the air and… gave it back to you,” Vivienne said, her voice ced with uainty.

  “That’s strange,” Rava mused. “Even exomancers ’t do that, not like you just did.”

  “What’s an exomancer and an endomancer?” Vivienne asked, genuinely curious now that she’d seen a glimpse of what she might be capable of.

  “Endomancers, like myself, use our owher to enhance ourselves. Strength, endurance… even going without food, as long as our reserves hold. Exomancers draw from the world around them, shaping spells from ambieher, but they ime to build their spells. What you just did was both, something rare among mortals… and unheard of in aherbeast.”

  Vivie in silent ption, her mind ing. Maybe there was more she could learn about herself—perhaps even a way to ge her form. The thought gave her a sliver of hope.

  Rava’s voice broke through her thoughts, her strength renewed. “Thanks to… whatever it is you just did, I feel better than I have in weeks.” She grinned, rolling her shoulders, and took a stance by the door. “Now, watch what an endomancer do.”

  Viviehdrew, watg as Rava took a deep breath, grounding herself. She muttered an intation, and brilliant circles of light ed around her forearms, crag with energy. With a swift, powerful punch, she smmed her fist into the door, and it shuddered violently. Uerred, she struck again, and this time the door buckled and splintered, flying off its hinges into the piled furniture.

  Rava straightened, shaking out her fists with a triumphant grin. “So,” she asked, looking over her shoulder, “how was that?”

  Vivienne’s many eyes sparkled with admiration. “I’d say… worth the show-off.”