33. Hello, Isla’s Progeny
Aleiraah
Leaving Duat was hard.
When I first arrived there, I'd locked my emotions down, trying to live one day at a time. Putting up a brave front. But with the constant support and love from the unusual trio and Ammit, the tight coil of hurt inside me started unwinding slowly, and I ended up having fun.
Lazy evenings by the Nile, smoking hemp flower hookah while listening to the sound of gentle waves was just what I needed.
I steadily emerged from the well of emotional pain I was trapped in.
I started breathing again. There were moments when I’d replay that night in my head and I’d feel my strength crumbling, wondering where I'd gone so horribly wrong.
I’d miss my husbands terribly, then berate myself for being weak. I’d question my own sanity for still craving their presence.
Objectively my mind knows that the effects of the Veilmoon made things worse. That filthy human’s greed instigated their twisted reaction. But my heart is incapable of showing any grace.
And then there’s that cryptic little prophecy from the cyclops who ambushed me in the farmer’s market weeks before the Veilmoon.
Two nights back I dreamt of that encounter again followed by a sibilant voice whispering my name.
I woke up sweating, feeling shaken with no memory of when I had left the bed and sleepwalked to the door of my quarters.
I should’ve paid more attention to the prophecy instead of brushing it off. But I was preoccupied with snooping on my husbands. And trying to find a way to keep that vile toadstool, Raine away from Alistair.
Apparently, it all seems quite coincidental, but if I look at the bigger picture, something doesn't add up. So I started asking myself––who’d benefit from all this? And the answer lies with that cunt-licking low-life!
Taking a fortifying breath, I replay the chaos of the last few hours.
Confronting my husbands and putting them in their place was cathartic.
I feel lighter, the bitterness that'd been plaguing me, somewhat abated. Witnessing them stripped of their pride was a balm to my heart that’s been burning with hatred.
They'd enjoyed my pain, the self-righteous bastards! That thought alone fuels my apathy to their plight. Maybe that makes me a bad person. But I’m proud to be the villain in their story.
I kept quiet about the baby because they don't deserve anything from me. They'll find out in time if they're meant to. And I’ll cross that bridge when I arrive at it. This isn’t closure. But perhaps a beginning.
Bastet had rubbed her furry cheek all over my face in farewell at the portal that’d taken me out of Duat. I’d miss squishing her toe-beans in moments of stress.
Anput saw me off with a warm hug. And Ammit did her mind-speak again. Letting me know in no uncertain terms that she’d see me soon. Then murmured something I couldn’t hear to the little person growing inside me.
Looking at the bright blue sky above, I rapidly blink my eyes to stem the tears that threaten to gather. I miss my found-family––my friends in Duat, fiercely.
Moving on is always a little heartbreaking.
Be it from a place or a person. Feelings always get hurt.
Those complicated things. But I'm stronger than the sum of those feelings.
Closing my eyes, I focus on untangling the ball of emotion that's shaken me. Once I open them again, I’m unshakeable, ready to face what's ahead.
Dressed more practically in leather breeches, and a white shirt overlaid with a leather corset, I walk with purposeful strides toward the shabby shack looming ahead at the western border of Mytherra. It’s time to find out what Isla’s progeny has been up to.
With a flick of my hand the doorknob to the crumbling cottage breaks.
The inside looks dingy but clean. Sunlight sporadically streams in from tiny windows.
The wannabe-author hasn’t heard me yet. So I head toward the back of the small house and find him sitting at a table furiously scribbling on paper, sporting a cowlick.
Stacks of paper with messy handwriting are scattered all over the floor.
So the sneaky little fuck is inspired, is he?
Moving silently I park my butt on the table’s edge, taking him by surprise.
“How are you, spineless worm?” I opt for a crazy smile, showing all my teeth. The horns are out for an added threat factor. I learned how to control my traits fairly quickly, given that all my life I never knew I’d be the proud owner of a tail with a pointy end!
Malakai’s eyes bulge out in fear as he starts trembling then stammers, “Mi-Mi-Mistress!”
“Have you been writing books or out and about licking pussies, hmm?”
“What?” He squeaks then shakes his head violently, “No! I…I—I have written a saga, Mistress.” He gulps fearfully, at the same time flushing red.
“Have you now? How interesting! Wonder what you’re so embarrassed about. But that’s a discussion for another day. Tell me, worm, to write you need only your hands, right?”
Looking like he’s going to soil himself, he nods shakily. Sweat runs in rivulets down his face.
“Shall I rip off your tongue, then?” I ask contemplatively.
He lets out a wail, “No, no, please M-Mistress! I'm sorry. I didn’t mean—“
“Stop whining, you swine!” I snap harshly, and he shuts up with a whimper. “Why did you disobey me? You weren’t that intoxicated on my allure, neither were you under my thrall. So why?” I bark at him, choking him with a snap of my fingers.
How I wish I could snap his scrawny neck. But he’s Isla’s progeny, so…
“I…I was compelled.” He confesses tearfully, face red, snot running down his nose.
“I was asked to take your essence directly from your…” he gulps again and continues, “Else, they said it wouldn't work.
They also knew about my siblings and threatened to kill them if I uttered a single word about it.
I'm sorry, Mistress!” He throws himself at my feet.
“Who is this ‘they’, you keep wailing about? Tell me. Now!” I've my suspicions but want confirmation.
“I can’t, Mistress! If I do, they’d harm my siblings. I don’t care what happens to me, but they're innocent.” He despairs looking up, eyes welling with fresh tears.
It seems plausible and he sounds sincere, which propels me to offer, ”Don’t worry about them. I shall put invisible guards on your siblings. No harm shall come to them under my protection. Now will you cooperate or shall I start by poking out your eye?”
“No! No!” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’ll tell you everything.”
He hesitates for a moment, then speaks in a rush when I lengthen my claws.
“Their skin was grass-green, no hair on their heads and they'd crooked yellow teeth. About as tall as me, one slightly shorter maybe. All three of them spoke in a voice that sounded like they'd swallowed broken glass. They had lime green eyes with yellow pupils. I’ve never seen someone like them before.”
Goblins!
“I swear, Mistress! They ambushed me as I was crossing the border. I thought I was hiding myself well, but they caught hold of me within an hour and then forced me to do what I did. Please forgive me!” He prostrates himself again.
The compulsion would've broken once he left Mytherra, but this idiot has yet to realize that.
“Say I spare you, Isla’s great-grand-spawn, what’s to say you won’t repeat the same thing again?” I lift his chin with the tip of my boot.
“I won’t, Mistress! I swear my fealty to you, Mistress!” He clasps his hands earnestly, pleading for mercy. He appears flushed, and his eyes have turned slightly glassy.
Fuck! He's affected by my allure again!
I pretend to contemplate his passionate speech. “You’re not a knight, you disgusting mongrel. Swearing fealty. What a load of crap! But, to prove your loyalty to me, you shall write a missive to the Goblin King.” His eyes widen to huge saucers.
“It’s the goblins who caught you.” His mouth hangs open, fear creeping on his face.
“You’ll request an audience with him, near the western border.
My trusted guard will tell you the details of when and where.
They'll also help you step into Mytherra for a short spell to pass on the letter to a goblin. In the letter you’ll ask him to help you secure an audience with me again.
Say that you need more ‘inspiration juice’ but you're afraid I’ll not meet with you.
” I whip his cheek with my tail, slicing it open as he tries to shuffle closer.
He cowers immediately, whimpering from the pain.
“Don't you dare come closer!" My skin crawls with his proximity.
"S-sorry!" He snivels, holding his bleeding cheek gingerly.
Pathetic!
"You’ll tell him that my guards visited you, but you didn't break under pressure and confess what transpired, which deserves a reward. And that you want to help him with whatever plans he has next. Make yourself appear as a lowly servant. I’m sure you can play that role well enough.
“Once you get the place and time, you'll inform my guards immediately. They’ll tail you anyway, so don’t try to cross me.
It'll not end well for you or your family. Use your cunning mind during the meeting, you are Isla’s progeny after all.
” I finish and stride out of his house as he whispers in a faint voice, uncertainty and relief coating his words, “Yes, Mistress.”
So it's been the goblins all along! I should’ve known. The scum of Mytherra is stirring up shit again. Was this a ploy to create a rift between me and my husbands? But why?
Contemplating the loose ends, I step into Mytherra’s borders. There’s an immediate shift in the surrounding energy with the magical barrier closing behind.
Spotting a bakery nearby, I conceal my newly manifested traits.
My stomach growls loudly, feet automatically carrying me to the quaint single story building.
A crooked chimney coughs out puffs of cinnamon-scented steam, the walls built from a golden-brown stone.
Climbing vines of sugar-bloom ivy twist up the corners, their pastel petals sparkling faintly in the sunlight.
A hand-painted sign swings lazily overhead, featuring a rolling pin and a cupcake with the name scrawled in a curly script - 'Mystic Crumbs'. On the wooden door at the entrance, another sign says - ‘Follow the trail. We promise it leads to pie.’
Stepping inside is like walking into a warm hug with sprinkles. The air is thick with scents of honeyed butter, toasting walnuts, and sugar on the cusp of caramelizing. Wooden tables and sturdy chairs dot the floor, carved with names and old runes.
Raccoons wearing flower-motif aprons are serving teacups brimming with steaming wild-herb infusions to patrons with perfect timing. Chalkboard menus hanging on the walls update themselves magically, scrawling in elegant script as new items pop fresh from the oven.
A huge glass display case showcasing everything from moonberry-glazed croissants to peach-cream filled scones catches my attention. Mouth watering, I almost float to it.
A pretty siren with pink hair is manning the counter and I order a dream-cream latte, rolling scones, and rumbly apple-pie with a side of moonberry ice cream. A savory quiche full of spicy meat is a last minute craving, courtesy of the tiny person I’m growing, who apparently is a meat-lover.
The siren smiles at me warmly but doesn’t speak. She instead adds a couple of more quiches to the pile, briefly glancing at my tummy. I take out extra coins to pay, but a sleek black cat with multicolored eyes, sitting on a cat tower asks me to enjoy the food. It's apparently on the house.
Odd...but whatever!
I grab a table by a window and two cute raccoons bring the delicious smelling food over in moments. My stomach growls loudly again and I dig in, feeling ravenous. The desserts and quiche hit the right notes, giving me much needed clarity.
Hunger had been slowing down my thinking!
Patting my tummy, I slowly sip the latte and focus on the problem at hand.
Were the goblins trying to isolate me from my husbands?
I’ve been letting the will-o’-the-wisps tail my husbands for a while now, waiting for them to realize their fuckups and come clean on their own.
But I didn’t think of leaving them until recently.
At least one of them is always nearby. But their actions from the night of the Veilmoon would’ve surely created an irreparable rift.
Were the goblins planning for that eventuality? What’s to say they haven’t been spying on us waiting for the right moment to strike?
Mother died fighting against them. She was excellent with a sword and taught me well. They had tricked her using a Leshi—a forest spirit—to mimic my voice in a distress call. That moment of distraction had cost her her life.
My father was assassinated when I was a baby, by goblins too.
He was a powerful incubus demon with significant clout, and wanted to drive the goblins out of Mytherra so they couldn't harm the other species peacefully living here.
The goblins always did mindless pillaging wherever they went, leaving death and disaster in their wake.
He died protecting me and my mother during a surprise attack.
They're like cockroaches...fucking difficult to kill.
Even Jadeth, my first love, was planted by them.
When madness had warped his mind toward the end, he had let it slip that he was working with the goblins to infiltrate my household, to bring an end to my father’s incubi line.
But he couldn’t see through the plan because he supposedly fell in love with me.
I scoff into the latte thinking how naive I had been. About Jadeth, and even my husbands. And now I’m paying the price for that naiveté.
The goblins have been wrecking havoc on my life since I was born. And for what? Some vendetta to eliminate my family. Those loathsome creatures live to cause unrest and I’m done being their target. I need reinforcements, and I know just the person.