The voice from the void wrapped around them like a forgotten lullaby. Payune's dragon senses recoiled not from fear, but from recognition. That scent of milk and blood, that cadence that still haunted their nightmares...
"Mother?" Hayuni's remaining tails flickered uncertainly, her foxfire dimming to embers.
The darkness coalesced into:
A silhouette too tall and too thin
Hands with too many joints
A smile that showed every tooth they'd ever lost as children
The figure stepped forward, and the ruined palace reassembled itself in her wake.
"You broke my cradle," Mother sighed, her voice the sound of a rocking chair still moving after its occupant has vanished. "Just as I knew you would."
The swords—one foxfire blue, one dragon gold—trembled in their hands. Payune understood first:
"They're not weapons." She turned the blade, revealing the hollow core. "They're feeding tubes."
Mother's laughter unmade three nearby pillars:
"Clever girl. The First Blade was never meant to kill gods. It was meant to feed them."
Hayuni's eyes widened as the truth struck:
Their entire war
The Eclipse's hunger
The Dragonlord's sacrifice
All just steps in Mother's recipe.
"What are we feeding?" Hayuni demanded.
Mother's grin split her face properly this time:
"Why, the only thing worth raising, darling.
An ending."
The air rippled as their father's ghost manifested—not as a warrior, but as he was in life's last moments:
Eyes milky with blindness
Hands clutching a broken rattle
Mouth moving in silent apology
He reached toward them, and his final memory unfolded:
The Truth of That Night:
Mother standing over two cribs
Not choosing between daughters—but between tools
The Dragonlord's desperate intervention:
"Take me instead."
"Oh my love," Mother had sighed, "you were always part of the recipe."
The memory dissolved, leaving behind one scorched truth:
He hadn't failed to protect them.
He'd bought them twelve extra years.
Mother extended her too-long hands, each finger a scaled timeline:
"Now my darlings, the finale:
Will you be the knives that carve the world anew?
Or the whetstones that sharpen me instead?"
The Twin Blades sang in response:
Hayuni's foxfire sword promised vengeance
Payune's dragonblade whispered of mercy
Together, they showed a third path
Payune met Hayuni's gaze. No words needed.
They moved as one:
Hayuni's tails wove a cage of frozen time
Payune's dragon breath forged a key from their mingled blood
Together, they stabbed not Mother, but the space between seconds
The strike unraveled the great lie:
Mother's form peeled back like old wallpaper
The Eclipse coughed up twelve stolen suns
The crib finally showed its contents:
Not a child.
Not a monster.
A mirror.
And in its reflection two little girls holding hands.