33. Follow the Light
Follow the Light
Prism Malefic
The monster tended a fire outside my door all night long.
I’d awaken from a nightmare, confused where I was, and look out the window to see him there, dark as night, guarding my house.
For most, looking out their window in the middle of the night and seeing a wither would terrify them—for me, somehow, it was a comfort.
When I awoke the next morning, he was gone. Back to his cave to sleep, I presumed.
Part of me never wanted to see him again.
A bigger part of me… missed him and longed for nightfall again. Temptation beckoned me to sleep all day, like the other ladies did, so I could awaken to darkness and my wither. Though I wanted to tend the garden first, at least.
When I opened my front door, a large basket of clothing greeted me.
A note atop the clothing read in pretty scrawl.
“Welcome to Nisse. Much love from Lyric.” Bringing the wicker basket filled with fabric inside, I pulled out four lovely dresses.
Lyric was a talented seamstress indeed. I made a mental note to stop by and thank her later.
As I changed into a soft white empire waist dress with tiny pink flowers embroidered on the hem, I combed my thick blonde hair and noted my appearance in the mirror by the bed.
My cheeks were rosy and freckles dotted my nose.
This dress fit perfectly over my full bosom and rounded hips.
My heart fluttered imagining Vore’s reaction when he saw me in it.
Flashes of our kiss interrupted my thoughts for the remainder of the day.
His lips were soft, interrupted by the brief brushes of his numerous sharp teeth.
I found myself missing the comfort his arms and chest brought.
The safety of having such a massive and formidable being so dedicated to protecting me.
Vore had claimed that it was me who’d captured him. Could that be true?
If I somehow continued to grow in my affections for the wither… how could I reconcile my desire with the fact that he stole me from my home? Not only that, but he was a warrior for our evil overlord, Asunder. Withers ignited the rapture at Asunder’s beck and call.
Withers, acting under Asunder’s authority, were the reason why my mothers were gone.
Yet, here I was… counting down the hours until sundown when I could be in the arms of one of them again.
Cringing under the weight of my own self-judgement, I entered the garden, finding the town empty, the women sleeping in wait for another night with their monsters. Would that be me soon? A nocturnal woman, happily awaiting time with a wither?
I made a lot of progress with the garden. Transplanting rooted vegetables, watering starts with several refilled buckets from the well, and tilling new soil. The weather allowed me to work without breaking too much of a sweat; the breeze floating past the falls cool and refreshing.
Fatigue pulled me towards a nap, but not before my stomach growled, seeking an abundance from the nearby fruit and berry grove. It was odd to move about the empty town, knowing I was surrounded by slumbering monsters in caves, and to feel no fear.
In Willowspire, I couldn’t even walk to the Viper’s farm without looking over my shoulder and measuring each step.
Anxiety hung like a hushed whisper over the melancholy town of my birth.
In Nisse, however, I felt I finally exhaled for the first time in my life.
It was nonsensical, laughable, even—but my heart was recognizing its truth with each passing moment.
My steps paused at the lemon tree and I stared up its branches, recalling how large and at ease Vore looked sitting under it the day prior.
I stopped by a ripe peach tree, plucking the orange fruit from the branch and taking a juicy bite.
Peaches weren’t in season. Peaches didn’t ripen at the same time as the green apple tree next to it.
Magic.
Magic that mirrored my mother’s.
Somehow my mother felt closer in Nisse than in Willowspire.
Her lemon cake, her invisible presence, clearer words and thoughts, and gardens and groves teeming with hedge witchery.
Were any of the women in Nisse witches? If they were, they didn’t seem to make a big thing of it.
Meanwhile in Willowspire, witches like my sister were special.
Exalted yet also, well, a bit full of themselves.
Yes, Rumor, no one is having as hard of a time as you are, I’d think to myself as she complained about not being able to practice her craft.
She’d drone on about how powerful she could be if she had a true teacher, how she’d storm Asunder’s gates herself and obliterate him and his forces.
My sister was very sure of herself for someone who struggled with a simple dishwashing spell.
But I kept those thoughts to myself to keep the peace.
It was never worth it to argue with her or point out her hypocrisy.
No, I’d be the meek, quiet, little Prism. Never a bother, yet always somehow an inconvenience. My needs were too much, yet my existence and contributions too little.
Too much and not enough, all at once.
That was me, Prism Malefic. Born to a sea witch and a hedge witch, yet devoid of any of their magic. Born a letdown, an unremarkable disappointment.
However… Vore made me feel remarkable. The way he looked at me as if I were his last breath on a battlefield. His touch holding all the intensity and passion of a thousand men. He’d carried the scars of beasts fought for me and still took the time to make a salve for my burns.
Vore made me feel… seen. Not like a burden or chore, but like his greatest privilege was to look after me. He’d fought the crimson, horned wither, Wraith, for the chance to steal me away. Vore had gone to battle for me before he’d even met me. I’d done nothing to deserve or earn his affections.
Vore would never leave me at my marriage rite.
If someone stole me—Vore would burn the forest down in search for me.
Meanwhile, Birch hadn’t even left his horses’ pen.
How could I return to a life with men after experiencing bliss with a monster? How could a human man ever compare now that I’d had a taste of a forked tongue? What else could his forked tongue do?
My cheeks reddened and my core heated at the indecency of that thought. Yet, there it was. I was thankful Vore wasn’t there to taste my emotions… or maybe that’s exactly what I wanted him to do. To taste me… all of me.
A drop of peach juice fell down my breasts. The soft, wet movement against my skin countered my scandalous thoughts of Vore.
All of a sudden, my moment under the grove was interrupted but a rustle in the bushes.
My heart froze in my chest as I dropped the pit of the fruit into the long grass and peered into the dark forest. I’d never considered being fearful of being alone here—until now.
Which was probably crazy, being that I was in a town of stolen women, overseen by withers.
At the same time, what could possibly threaten the most formidable beings in all the realm?
Even still, the breaking of branches and movement in the blueberry bush startled me.
Berries jumbled to the ground as I clutched the peach tree, hiding half of my body behind its trunk.
Rumor and Matri were the fighters of the family.
My upper body strength wasn’t even enough to hold a bow steady, and my tender heart wouldn’t allow me to even squish a spider.
When threats arose, I froze.
Like I did at my wedding rite.
Arms outstretched, not even having the bravery to look over my shoulder. The courage to run from danger hadn’t existed within me until… well… until I’d run from Vore. Though, that escape was short lived and perhaps not even welcomed.
Something leapt from the brush, pushing a scream from my throat.
Mrawr! A small creature mewed. Its gaze found mine, and it froze, tilting its head to the side. Two long fangs hung over its maw while two pointed ears sat atop its brown spotted, furry head. Mrawr? It seemed to question this time.
A smile of relief tugged at my lips as I dropped to my knees. By its markings and saber-toothed grin, I recognized its fearsome breed, though I’d never seen one so small.
I extended my palm. “Come here, little one. Are you lost?” Without hesitation, the baby fearcat prowled up to my hand, giving my knuckles a sniff. My touch caressed its ear. “You know, I had a run-in with a bigger version of you that wasn’t this soft and cuddly.”
The fearcat climbed into my lap, nuzzling its head under my chin.
I wrapped my arms around the hefty little cat and stroked its middle.
Something warm and furry to hold was a welcome relief and reminded me of how I’d feed and pet the stray cats in Willowspire.
Though, this certainly wasn’t a common house cat…
he did seem to like me. Something in my soul twinged as the animal began to purr, resting its big paws on my shoulder.
I stood, holding the creature to my chest. “Do you want to come home with me?” I asked it.
A roar tore through the valley, startling both me and the tiny fearcat. The creature buried its head in my shoulder as its body trembled. When I glanced across the way, a large, inky wither stomped toward me.
Vore.
His blue smoke rolled ahead of him. I gasped as it wrapped coolly around my ankles and encircled my frame, as if it were scanning my body. The smoke paused over my fuzzy companion, and when it did, Vore was upon us.
Glowering over me, he asked, “What is this? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, go back to your sleep cave.”
“I heard you scream, and now I fear I will never sleep again from just the memory.”
My heart fluttered as I looked up at my wither and clutched my new friend close. “Can I keep him?”
Vore lifted an eyebrow and extended a hand, gripping the fearcat by the loose skin of his neck and elevating him from my hold. The cat mewed in fear, pawing at the air in my direction. “You’re scaring him!” I scolded. “Give him back.”
With a huff of breath, Vore surveyed the animal, front to back, and handed him back to me.
“Wraith is on watch. This creature, no matter how small, should not have gotten through our borders. However, it appears to be no threat to you, nor holding malice against you. He seems bonded to you already.”
“Is that a yes?” I asked hopefully.
“Fearcats abandon the runts of their litters. He was born without the killer instinct and therefore not worth the effort of upbringing.”
My throat tightened. “Not everything needs to be born a killer in order to be worthy of love and nurturing.” I gripped the fearcat’s thick paw. “I’ll take care of him.”
Vore’s eyes narrowed at my little creature as if he were deciding if he would say yes or no. “They grow to be quite big.”
“Yes, and so do withers.”
A laugh puffed from Vore’s mouth. He rubbed the back of his neck in contemplation. “Would this make you happy?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I love him.”
Vore tilted his head. “You love the monster already?”
My breath caught in my lungs as I peered up at Vore’s cloudy stare, feeling in my soul his question had a double meaning. I nodded again. “I suppose I do.”
He looked at me a moment longer, taking in the dress. “You look radiant,” he sighed. “You may keep the fearcat.”
A squeal left my throat as I sat the creature down and bounded into Vore’s arms. “Thank you,” I said, squeezing him tight. “I’ll take good care of him.”
“I know you will. The women can show you to our pasture. Goat milk should do well to bottle feed him.”
“Sounds like you know a lot about babies.”
“I am very old,” Vore replied.
The fearcat brushed against my ankles, its whiskers tickling my skin. “Fable is… pregnant?” I asked, as if I still couldn’t believe it were true. “Human women can be with wither child?”
“Only with intention from both parties, and it is difficult to achieve, even then, but yes.”
I bit my lower lip. “Do you expect… things like that from me?”
Vore’s eyes widened. “No, Prism. Of course not. I am here to serve you—not the other way around. I would never venture to do something you did not wholly desire. Was our time behind the waterfalls not… to your liking?”
Butterflies returned to my belly in memory of his kiss. “I liked it… I liked it very much.”
My wither’s shoulders relaxed. “Good, I am glad to hear that.”
“Did you like it? The kiss?”
The corner of Vore’s mouth rose, and he knelt so I didn’t have to crane my neck so high. His hands found their place over my waist as he gazed down at me. “Kissing you, Prism… it is what I imagine magic feels like. You are my goddess. I wholly worship you.”
Reaching up, I cupped his jaw. “Would you like another taste of magic then?”
Vore hummed in his throat, closing his eyes a moment. “Yes, I would love another taste of you.”
Desire warmed my core as his lips covered mine. I knew he tasted my want. I knew that every butterfly in my stomach danced over his tastebuds. Even still, I darted my tongue into his mouth, finding the fork of his serpentine tongue and coaxing it to dance with mine.
My wither’s hold tightened around my waist before lifting me and holding me tight to his body.
He groaned in his throat before pulling away and setting me back down.
Back to earth. The feeling of our own kind of magic lingering between us.
Magic ruled by no coven or town. Magic not outlawed, raptured, or controlled.
Magic not hoarded over my head to make me feel less special.
I didn’t need powers to be magical to Vore.
For the first time, who I was, was just enough.
“I must go,” Vore proclaimed lowly.
Confusion furrowed my brow. “Why? Did I… mess up somehow?”
Vore gripped my arms. “You are divine, Prism. I must speak with Wraith on how this happened.” He gestured to my little fearcat who was pawing the peach pit back and forth and pouncing on it. “And if I don’t leave now… I fear I will carry you to my cave and not let you leave until I’ve claimed you.”
My body tingled at his confession. I swallowed, and in a small voice agreed… though a large part of me really wanted to know what being claimed entailed. “Okay. I’ll see you at sundown?”
“You shall,” Vore replied. “I believe you will have your hands full until then.”
My fearcat, well, fear kitten , hopped after a grasshopper before getting his paw caught in a vine and hissing as he fought to free himself. I smiled, moving to untie him. “Well then… Goodbye, Vore.”
“Goodbye, Prism.”