Mother of Midnight

Vivienne could be efficient about this.

She should be.

But where was the fun in that?

Her molten body still ached from the birth. Deep in her core, there was a hollow throb, a raw soreness that pulsed with every movement. It wasn't weakness, not exactly—but it was distracting. And Vivienne hated distractions.

So she chose a different one.

She let the battlefield become her balm.

The first siege tower hadn’t even fully settled against the wall before she turned to it. With a slow, deliberate motion, she raised her massive, magma-wreathed arm and backhanded the structure. The wooden frame groaned in protest, splintered, then crumbled entirely, collapsing in a rain of fire and screaming bodies. Soldiers tumbled like broken dolls through the air, some alight, others crushed by debris before they hit the ground.

Vivienne chuckled low in her throat. “Oops.”

Her foot came down next—right into the midst of a clustered formation of Aegis infantry. Steel and bone crunched beneath the weight of her heel, liquefied by the heat that radiated from her form. She ground them into the dirt without slowing.

Then came the tendrils.

Flaming limbs burst from her sides, sinuous and fast, alive with writhing hunger. They lashed outward, piercing armor and flesh alike, then dragged the shrieking victims into open mouths that had bloomed across her body like wounds. Each mouth snapped shut with wet finality, swallowing soldiers whole in gulps of heat and gore.

Another tower approached, wheels creaking, soldiers cheering behind it.

Vivienne turned toward it, eyes gleaming through the plumes of smoke. Her lips split into a grin that showed too many teeth.

“More toys,” she murmured.

She was supposed to be efficient.

And she would be.

Right after she finished playing.

She turned south, her massive, molten form casting flickering shadows against the inner wall of Serkoth. The next siege tower loomed ahead—larger than the others, braced in reinforced iron bands, crawling with soldiers ready to breach.

Vivienne’s claws scraped against the stone as she began to move, each step shaking the earth. Her gait was purposeful, a thunderous rhythm of fire and fury that echoed off the walls. As she advanced, she raked her claws along the parapet, shearing through ladders with contemptuous ease. Wood shattered, metal snapped, and would-be invaders screamed as they tumbled, crushed beneath their own siege.

The tower grew larger with each stride, its shadow swallowed by hers.

She didn’t slow.

She slammed her full weight into it, leading with her shoulder like a battering ram. The impact was cataclysmic. Iron bands burst, planks exploded outward in a storm of splinters, and soldiers were launched into the air like broken dolls. Screams rose and were snuffed out in an instant as the tower buckled and then collapsed, folding in on itself like a broken leg.

Vivienne staggered slightly from the blow, then straightened. Steam hissed from her shoulders. Shards of wood and gore clung to her burning flesh, quickly incinerated.

She turned her gaze further down the field. More towers. More prey.

Her claws flexed, still trailing smoke.

“Next,” she growled.

Vivienne turned her molten gaze northward, where the last two siege towers still clung to the city wall like parasites. Their wood frames creaked with the weight of enemy soldiers, still desperate to breach Serkoth’s defenses. She snarled low, the sound bubbling through magma and flame, and set off.

Each of her steps gouged the earth, leaving behind smoldering craters and rivulets of molten stone. She didn’t walk—she marched, an unstoppable juggernaut of fury and pain. Her claws dragged along the ground and walls alike, carving trenches and toppling any ladders left standing. The soldiers in her path either fled or were too slow to realize their fate.

Those who got too close were trampled underfoot, their armor crumpling like paper beneath her weight. Others were snared by the tendrils that lashed from her arms and back, molten appendages tipped with jagged mouths. They shrieked and thrashed as they were dragged into the blazing folds of her body, swallowed whole by the living inferno.

And still, they fought back.

Arrows arced from the rear lines, only to dissolve in midair. Swords plunged into her legs, only to melt, their wielders screaming as their weapons turned to slag in their hands. The exomancer in the distance raised his staff again and again, firing beams of Dawn aether in steady, pulsing rhythm. Each blast struck her center mass, burning with that same celestial heat that had harmed her in the past.

But now?

She was lava. Flame incarnate. A living pyre.

Trying to burn a blaze was like trying to drown the ocean.

The light beams did little more than sting, and she pressed forward with relentless focus. She reached the first of the two towers, grabbed it by its support struts, and ripped. Screams echoed as the whole structure lurched sideways and tumbled down in a heap, crushing those below.

She didn’t stop to admire her work. The second tower suffered the same fate within moments, shattered by a downward swing of her molten fist, reduced to kindling in an eruption of fire and debris.

With their towers gone and ladders obliterated, the remaining invaders began to falter. Orders were shouted. Formations broken. They started to retreat—first in clusters, then in a full rout.

Vivienne tilted her head. Retreat?

Unacceptable.

With a gurgling snarl, her body dissolved. Her flaming mass collapsed into a thick, black tide that spread outward in all directions, smothering the battlefield like a wave of shadow and ink. Burning tendrils surged through the grass and mud, reaching, curling, devouring.

The retreating soldiers screamed as the tide caught them. Armor clanged. Bodies vanished. She swallowed them whole, consumed every living thing in her reach with utter finality.

The earth boiled beneath her. The wind reeked of scorched metal and fear.

No mercy.

No survivors.

She didn’t stop here either.

Her inky mass surged forward, flowing like a flood no wall or trench could hold back. The battlefield behind her was silent now—choked with ash, bones, and the black smear of what had once been an army. But ahead, in the distance, she saw movement. A haphazard camp hastily erected in the valley beyond. Tents. Supply carts. Fires still crackling.

And soldiers.

Auxiliaries, by the look of them. Hundreds of them. Fresh-faced conscripts, support crews, healers—those meant to bolster the main force or clean up once the battle was won. They weren’t expecting the war to come to them so soon.

It did.

They screamed and scattered as her shapeless tide crept into view, a living shadow rolling across the field. Some tried to run. Others tried to form ranks. Neither mattered.

Vivienne’s consciousness rippled through the dark like a shark in bloody water. She felt their heartbeats. Their panic. Their disbelief.

And one, near the center of the camp, shone brighter than the rest. A figure in ceremonial armor, polished to a mirror sheen even in the chaos. A captain? No—higher. A commander. Someone important. She could hear the way the others shouted around him, desperately clinging to his orders.

She watched him from dozens of angles at once, her body fanned out like a net of hunger. She memorized the details of his face, his posture, the slight limp in his left step. She didn’t know why she bothered—it wasn’t like he’d be recognizable once she was done—but there was something satisfying in marking a soul before taking it.

He turned too late.

Tendrils shot from the ground, wrapped around his legs, his arms, his neck. He barely managed a strangled cry before he was yanked down into the muck.

Vivienne devoured him.

Not quickly. Not mercifully.

She made sure he knew exactly what kind of monster had undone him.

Soon after, the camp fell silent.

Deathly silent.

No screams. No footfalls. No prayers to gods who didn’t listen.

Only the low crackle of dying fires, the soft clink of armor settling as bodies cooled, and the wet, rhythmic sound of Vivienne feasting.

There were no enemy forces left on the eastern side of Serkoth. None.

Only discarded weapons, trampled standards, shattered crates of munitions, and her.

She stood in the middle of the ruined camp, crouched low over one of the few corpses she hadn’t dissolved outright. She had preserved this one intentionally, flesh still warm, blood still slick. A clean kill. One she had earned with her own claws rather than swallowed in the tide of her body.

She tore another strip of meat free with her teeth, chewing slowly as she licked the gore from her lips. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. It tasted like victory.

A sliver of bone caught between her back molars, and she made a disgruntled noise, dragging a claw along the inside of her cheek to fish it free. “Tch. Annoying.”

The air was thick with the stink of death and cooked earth. Smoke rose in lazy spirals, curling around her like incense. Her five eyes blinked slowly, content.

She stood, brushing her fingers together as if shaking off crumbs. The last bits of her prey squelched softly underfoot.

“What to do now…” she murmured, licking at a bit of viscera stuck beneath one claw. She took a slow stroll between shattered tents and looted wagons, her long tail sweeping lazily behind her like a lazy executioner’s blade. She passed a tangle of corpses—Aegis soldiers, some half-eaten, others barely intact enough to identify—and paused just long enough to yank a strip of cloth from one of their cloaks and use it to dab at the blood on her chin.

Vivienne stretched, slowly, languidly, like a beast basking in the afterglow of a successful hunt. Her joints popped with satisfying little cracks, and she rolled her shoulders with a contented sigh.

“Maybe the north could do with some help,” she murmured, five black eyes narrowing with a lazy sort of hunger. Her grin curled wide, full of teeth and smug satisfaction. “But first, I better tell Rava. Best not to just go off and do my own thing.”

Her voice echoed lightly in the corpse-littered camp, met only with silence and the occasional hiss of smoldering tents.

With a final glance at the carnage, she turned and began to walk—then broke into a graceful sprint, legs coiling before launching her up, over the remains of the fortifications, and back toward the city wall.

She leapt easily from the broken ramparts, landing atop the battlements with a gentle thud, claws tapping against the stone as she straightened. Rava stood ahead, her broad back to the city, eyes fixed on the horizon. The battlefield below had gone still. Only the crows remained.

“Hello, love,” Vivienne purred, slipping up beside her and nuzzling against Rava’s side. Her voice was soft now, warm and familiar, like silk over steel.

Rava didn’t speak at first. She just grunted, her tail twitching slightly. She was tense, but not angry. Not truly.

Vivienne leaned against her a little more.

“I was thinking of heading north,” she said, casually. “Would you look after the east for me? Just make sure no one gets clever.”

Rava’s lip curled slightly, just enough to bare a tooth. “Don’t want to leave you,” she muttered, arms still folded, gaze still locked ahead.

“I know,” Vivienne whispered, turning her head to rest it on Rava’s shoulder. “But I’ve gained quite a bit of power from this little feast, and I’d rather not let it go to waste. The north still has meat to offer, and I’m very hungry.”

Rava glanced at her then, finally. Her expression was unreadable for a moment—something tight and cautious behind those glowing eyes. Then she sighed through her nose and gave a slow, reluctant nod.

“You better come back in one piece.”

Vivienne grinned. “Sweetheart, I always come back. Usually with something in my mouth.”

That earned her a very small, very faint smile.

“Just go,” Rava said.

Vivienne stood up straighter, her grin sharpening. “Gladly.”

She turned toward the northern wall without another word, her body already beginning to ripple with restrained power.

There were sights to see.

People to meet.

People to eat.

Vivienne bounded along the wall, her claws clicking softly against the stone as she moved with speed and ease, barely paying any mind to the soldiers she passed. Arrows flew in great volleys overhead, some loosed by Serkoth's archers, others incoming from below, and all of them ignored.

Exomancers stood in formation, casting sigils in rhythmic cycles, blasting fire and ice and force into the seething mass of enemies at the base of the wall. The air buzzed with aether, thick with tension and war. None of it fazed her. She had only one thing on her mind.

Food.

Well, two things. Food and politeness.

She weaved between shouting officers and runners ferrying orders, eyes scanning the crowd until she spotted him. Kavren.

He was stationed near a cluster of heavy exomancers, standing tall as always, arms crossed behind his back, barking out orders to reposition the batteries. Arrows and spells occasionally soared his way, but none made contact. A fireball broke across a hastily raised shield of aether just before it touched him. An ice spike shattered against an unseen barrier. One arrow did make it through and he caught it between two fingers without even looking.

Vivienne smiled.

Not quite as unkillable as Rava, but he certainly tried.

“Kavren,” she called out as she stepped closer, adopting a polite tone.

He turned at the sound of her voice. Unlike the usual manic grin or half-laugh she expected from him, his face was all tension. Serious. Tired. Focused.

“Vivienne,” he greeted flatly. “What are you doing here? I thought you were posted at the eastern wall.”

“I was. Rava’s handling it now. Just in case Aegis decides to send reinforcements. I’d hate to be rude and let them regroup.”

His eyes narrowed. “They retreated?”

Vivienne gave a soft chuckle. “What do you think?”

He gave a non-committal grunt, then looked her up and down. “You aren’t pregnant anymore.”

Vivienne threw her head back and laughed. It echoed down the wall like a bell made of velvet and knives. “That is correct. My belly is vacant, my power is brimming, and I am now operating at full capacity. Possibly even a little more, now that I’ve eaten several hundred soldiers.”

“I see.” He casually caught another arrow flying toward him, this one aimed directly at his temple. He snapped the shaft in half and tossed it off the wall like it was an annoying insect.

Vivienne took a few more steps forward, tilting her head slightly. “So. I take my promises very seriously. The east will not fall while I draw breath, but I was wondering, purely as a courtesy, if I might take a quick detour and devour every single Aegis soldier currently besieging this side of the city. Shouldn’t take me more than a bell or two.”

Kavren blinked at her. “What?”

She gestured out over the wall with one clawed hand. Below, the Sovereignty forces still surged, endless and fervent, like a hive of armored ants tearing at the base of the wall.

Vivienne smiled sweetly. “Well, you see, after giving birth in the middle of a battle, I find myself terribly hungry. Famished, really. And I’ve been doing quite well so far with eating my way through the enemy. So I thought… rather than let these brave, tasty souls go to waste, why not ask?”

“You want to… eat them.”

Vivienne tilted her head, as if confused by the need for clarification. “Yes? Is that not what I just said?”

Kavren let out a long, tired breath. His shoulders shifted ever so slightly, a sign that even he wasn’t sure how much of this day had been real anymore. “So long as the east doesn't fall in your absence, do whatever you want. Just leave a few of them intact for me to fight. I’m getting bored watching them fail to climb our walls.”

“Mmm,” Vivienne purred, her claws flexing with anticipation. “If I feel full, I’ll be sure to leave a few morsels squirming for you.”

She didn’t wait for his reply. With the lightest of grins and not a hint of ceremony, Vivienne stepped forward and threw herself from the top of the wall, plummeting into the roiling sea of soldiers below.

She did not land as herself.

She did not need to be seen.

This time, she would not make a show of power. That had been her mistake in Drakthar, painting a target on her back and daring the Sovereignty to aim.

Now she was clever.

Her body came apart mid-fall, dissolving into a mist of glittering darkness, curling tendrils of shadow and flesh and teeth stretching out in all directions. A rolling tide of hunger and wrath.

No announcements. No warnings. No signature roars or dramatic shapes.

Just quiet, merciless consumption.

The first few rows of soldiers didn’t even scream. They vanished. One step forward, then nothing—only a clattering of armour and weapons where they had once stood.

Vivienne poured herself through the battlefield like spilled ink, slipping through cracks in formations, folding herself under shields and over helmets, crawling up limbs and pulling men apart before they even realized what had touched them.

She fed.

And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t grin for show.

She grinned because it felt good.

And while Vivienne normally delighted in tearing her prey apart up close, savoring the feel of bone crunching between her jaws and the hot splash of blood against her tongue, she knew better than to indulge herself now.

This wasn't the time for pleasure. It was a time for results.

Efficiency. That was the word. That was the shape of her hunger today.

She didn’t bite or claw or laugh. She simply devoured.

Each body she consumed fed her, not just in flesh but in power. With every soldier reduced to nothing more than a memory, aether surged through her like fresh fuel in a starving engine. She felt herself swell, her reach expanding with each kill, her essence unfurling like a black tide through the chaos.

The more she spread, the more she consumed.

The more she consumed, the stronger she grew.

It was a perfect cycle.

A self-feeding storm of hunger and magic and hate, leaving only equipment behind.

And they had given her so many bodies to feed it with.