Ch. 2.6 | Hello, “Mother”
PoV: Lania
Lania walked into the aftermath of a massacre.
She had been heading west, away from the towns and cities that she knew.
It turned out, that bloody pig-monster-vampire-progenitor thing had gone westward too.
It was a little village, not much more than two intersecting streets. Why has this village popped up? Was there a cavern city nearby? A ravine or canyon? Water, even? Small towns did not appear from nowhere.
Now it would be wiped off the map, or turned into a tiny symbol of a ruin. An unnamed, forgotten graveyard.
A dozen corpses littered the streets, bloodless. Stone doors to humble abodes lay ajar. People had tried to run, but there was no escape from this particular beast.
The llumifruits along the houses glowed, ignorant of the world around them. They shed light onto the streets and the empty village.
Lania stepped through, clinging to her stolen cloak that she had taken off a victim in that town last night. Lania shivered in the chilly night air. It seemed becoming a magical monster did not give her protection against the biting cold.
She made it to the intersection, looking around. What did she do now? Raid the buildings for supplies? She was going to do that anyway—probably kill people to do it too. So why did she stop? It felt like grave robbing now. Which was somehow worse than theft or murder?
Lania shook her head.
There wasn't even a “biggest house” or anything. They were all . . . small. How did this place even function? How did they get their money? Or their food? They had but meager plots of farmed land on the rim of their hamlet.
What kind of supplies did Lania even need? Her sustenance came from blood.
Maybe more parts of clothes? What was she even living for anymore? Survive? For what?
No matter.
Lania turned and chose a random house to start pillaging. Maybe having things could make her stay human.
Movement blurred in the corner of her vision. Her head snapped in its direction.
She saw nothing.
“H-hello?” Lania called. “Is anyone there?”
Something tapped her shoulder. It felt like fingers—certainly not the wind.
“Eek!” Lania jumped, then spun around to face whatever had touched her.
A pale woman with red eyes grinned in Lania's face. Her silver hair cascaded down her back in unkempt tangles, bangs falling just over her eyes. She stood tall—easily fifteen centimeters taller than Lania. Lania was only, like, one-fifty-three centimeters herself.
“W-who are you?” Lania asked, glancing up shyly, but avoiding direct eye contact.
The pale woman moved her face closer to Lania's, she held that wicked, feral grin. “Don't recognize your mother?”
“N-no?”
What? What what what what? My mother? What did she mean by that? She doesn't look anything like my mother. My mother isn't nearly as hot . . . Did I just think that? Oh no.
The pale woman frowned, stepping back, Lania could finally see more than just her face. She wore a pretty red dress that a cavern-dwelling aristocrat might wear, all complex and poofy and tight on the body. Lania's mother would only be caught dead wearing that.
“Oh,” the woman feigned a hurt expression. “I suppose a demonstration is in order.”
She transformed into a pig.
A bloody pig with limbs stemming from its back. A pig with large white fangs sticking out from the mouth around its snout.
Lania blinked, then took a hesitant step back. Her heart beat with fear.
The blood pig molded back into the shape of the pale woman.
The grin was back on her face. “See? Your mother.”
This “mother” of mine is a pig monster from Hell? This thing dare call herself my mother? Hey, weren't vampires supposed to transform into bats? Why did this woman become a demon pig?
“M-mother?”
“Yes?” “Mother” tilted her head.
“N-no, I mean, I have a mother, and it's not you.” Her mother . . . She would probably never see her again. Lania was probably as good as dead to her . . . A gaping hole swallowed Lania's stomach.
“A person can have two mothers.”
“I have a father and a mother,” Lania was shaking now.
“A person can have two mothers and one father. My my . . . I didn't realize you were so traditional and ignorant . . .” “Mother” clicked her tongue.
No! Lania had one mother and one father. This pig monster woman was not one of them. Why wouldn't this monster pick up what Lania was trying to say? Why must she play games?
“Stop!” Lania snapped, swinging a palm wide, like it was a sword. “Stop. Being. Dense,” Lania punctuated with a finger.
“You're the dense one.”
“Mother implies that you were there for me! That you helped raise me! You just bit me and took off!”
“Mother” looked like she just got bit . . . and not in a good way. “Well then . . . I'll just have to start.”
“No!” Lania screamed. “I . . . I am not letting a monster—a murderer—be my mother!”
“Mother” blinked. “You're already a monster and a murderer. Nice work back in that town, by the way. I hope they were delicious.”
Lania clenched her fists. Rage channeled through her body. Weird, she was usually so calm.
And she wanted blood.
She did not want blood like she was hungry or lustful.
No.
This was blood . . . like she wanted violence. Blood. Must. Be. Shed.
“Oh dear,” “Mother” said.
Lania felt a vein pop. She pounced on “Mother” like she was just another midnight snack. Lania was going to claw and bite and tear her apart until—
Unfortunately, “Mother” did not intend to die. She sidestepped Lania with blinding speed, leaving her to flail and thrash the air.
Lania turned to face “Mother's” new spot and leapt again. Of course, “Mother” dodged.
A few more exchanges happened like this. “Mother” made no attempt to fight back. Lania's rage continued, as each attempt to gore “Mother” failed. Lania stumbled around the dirt under her feet like a drunken lady. Why didn't “Mother” fight back?
Because she didn't need to. And didn't want to. “Mother” was too fast, she could always get away.
A dozen attempts later, and Lania stood there. Not quite panting yet—she would need to extend far more energy for that. Her breathing was ragged though, not because she was tired but from the rage. Her fists were clenched, fingernails digging into her flesh . . . that was weird, her fingernails were supposed to be clipped.
“Are you quite done yet?” “Mother” asked, analyzing her own nails, which were immaculate, and curved into a fine point, like claws.
Yes. Lania was done. Very done, in fact.
“Goodbye,” Lania answered, turning to leave.
“Mother” appeared in front of her. “I've had my fill of blood . . . Why don't we return to my place?”
“Your place?” Lania tilted her head. Ah, the world behind the red portal, probably. Lania heard that the world beyond the purple portals was a mirror of their own, but empty, sickly, and full of monsters. “Oh. No thank you.”
Lania navigated around “Mother,” who sidestepped and blocked her path again.
“Do you want me to claw you?”
“You can't. Remember?” “Mother” smiled. “Anyway! This place is unwelcoming to you, now. Come to our realm, you'll be much better received!”
“No.”
“Let me be your mother! Let me be worthy of that title!” “Mother” looked hurt. She was a monster, though, and monsters don't feel hurt.
“I will stay here. If I die, fine. I deserve it for being turned.”
“I really chose the most difficult daughter,” “Mother” muttered. “She is special though, I can feel it.”
Lania began to walk away. “Mother” did not get in her way this time.
A dozen paces later, “Mother” called back. “Please. Let me be selfish. Let me be your mother. Let me guide you and protect you from those that misunderstand us.” “Mother” was pleading now.
Lania snorted. “I'm twenty. I don't need a mother anymore.”
“Everyone needs a mother,” “Mother” whispered.
Lania paused for a moment—contemplating her family now that she was a compromised monster—before continuing her steps.
“Please!” “Mother” projected. “Please be my heir.”
Lania shook her head, not looking back. She exited the village and headed into the night, not knowing where she'd go next. She headed north, towards the boundary between the world untouched by the tempest. She could not go east for food, and mountains climbed into the sky westward. South . . . was an option too.
She heard “Mother” wailing from behind, now. Choked sobs followed. Like a sad, broken thing.
Lania stamped down her guilt and worry and put on an iron facade. She would not let “Mother” manipulate her.
So why did she want to go back there and say “yes?”
As far as Lania knew, this world wasn't compatible with her anymore. Humans would probably want her dead.
But it was all “Mother's” fault . . . She made her this way. She turned Lania into a monster and ruined her life.
Now, she was alone. Could she forgive “Mother” if it meant not being alone?
As Lania passed by the last building along the street, a black bird croaked once, from a rooftop. She turned to squint at it. It lingered for only a moment before completely vanishing from her sight.