21. “Who are you, beautiful Beastie?”

Chapter 21

"Who are you, beautiful Beastie?"

HECATE

"Angel" by Massive Attack

"Battlefield" by Svrcina

I 've tracked Zenya to the heart of the storm, knowing the daemon gods are not far behind.

I stand at the edge of the clearing, my senses attuned to the shifting energies. The ancient powers of the temporal storm demand to be fed, and it seems they've chosen Zenya as their buffet.

As the dream reavers surge forward, their forms become a blur of sinister shadows. I narrow my eyes, hunting their every move. They form a barrier between myself and the vortex consuming my dream weaver.

I search the expanse for her, but all I find is the never-ending storm until…

Zenya emerges from the chaos. She seizes my very breath as she rides upon a dark flying stallion. Her presence is a beacon of raw, untamed power. Lightning-like threads of her energy crackle through the air, raising the hairs on my body, tingling along my skin like static electricity. Each strand pulses with intensity.

Awe consumes me as she rises upon that horse, balancing with a flawless ease that betrays some form of training. Now, she faces the vortex. Unshaking. Resolute. A hellbound determination within her soul.

Zenya's fingers dance, weaving intricate patterns to command the reavers, binding them to her will. A herd of dark, flying horses manifests in the air. Skeletal, corpse-like. Some surround her, others gallop around the vortex, shaking their manes, and I recognize what she's doing. Heat smolders through every goddess cell within me. The horses are her own version of a storm, whipping their wings and sending gusts of wind to disrupt the temporal force.

I part my lips, gazing at tendrils of black energy branching out from their manes, extensions of Zenya's essence and bearing her weaving signature to tame the storm.

Zenya is no longer merely a dreamer caught between light and dark; she is something more, some energy force within her that is ancient and primal. This dark feminine, a force I know all too well. It's rising. Perhaps for the first time, she is not suppressing it. Perhaps for the first time, she can not suppress it.

The horses galloping in a spiral around the vortex turn to monstrous mares, growing in size to three times beyond a Clydesdale, beating their wings with might and power as Zenya transforms the dark energy stemming from her chest into great lassos. I grin with a fierce pride as she swings those lassos to noose the very throats of the reavers, binding them to her will.

By all great goddesses! "Who are you, beautiful Beastie?" I murmur, feeling a strange playfulness when I consider this new entity. "Unleash your true self."

Zenya's eyes, this new creature's eyes, once filled with fear and determination, now glow with a feral, unyielding light.

Many reavers fly away, escaping her lassos like countless tongues catapulting from her heart. Now riding once again upon her dark horse like a queen, she harnesses and commands the reavers like her personal pack of wolves. That is what this deep identity within her does. Throw her to the wolves—she'll return commanding the pack.

The temporal storm weakens in power.

The boundary between dreamer and beast blurs, and I feel the symbiotic bond forming.

Here is a great and terrible crossroads of such utter beauty, it steals tears from my eyes and surges shivers into my heart and soul. More beautiful is knowing this crossroads between this Beastie and our dreamer is but the hub of the wheel with more roads and entities branching out like the spokes of the wheel.

"You have found your strength," I whisper as the horses gallop to the crest of the temporal vortex and lash their wing-driven wind to snuff out what remains. My admiration mingles with a sense of kinship. "You are the embodiment of the crossroads, where darkness meets light, where chaos births control. And where a monster is not safe, nor is it evil."

As Zenya's dark protector fully emerges, my heart swells with pride. I recognize the signs—the shift in posture, the deeper resonance of Zenya's voice as she commands the reavers to her, the aura of authority surrounding her. She rises higher upon that horse.

Zenya is wild, dark, and free.

This being is black as pitch, dangerous, but controlled.

I press my lips into a smile, a wave of lust rippling through me. The left side of her skin has come alive, manifesting more real and raw than ever. Skulls, roses, bones, blood, and more all swirl around Zenya before lunging to devour the reavers.

Ear-splitting screams and screeches pierce the night from the reavers, their mouths open in pain, their heads shooting back until the powerful manifestation of the ink from Zenya's skin swallows them whole.

I twist my lips into a smile as Nyxion and Morpheus approach, their wings surging a desperate and ruthless drift at my back.

Within seconds, they are at my side, but I warn them not to interfere with our dreamer. Nyxion seems the most awed, and his black eyes narrow to dangerous slits—more vicious in his need to have Zenya, this other being, this dark queen.

This is not a simple possession by the shadows. It is a harmonious infusion, a claiming of power—formidable and beautiful.

As I turn back to our weaver, I ignite my torches to light her way.

"Harness it, Zenya," I whisper. "Embrace the darkness and the light. They are yours to command."

She has kept some reavers like trophies. Once fearsome and uncontrollable, they move with a fluid grace under Zenya's command. I watch as she directs them with precision, her movements a dance of elegance and might. The scene testifies to the power of the dark feminine—a reminder that true strength lies in embracing all facets of one's being.

Upon Zenya's approach, the reavers tightly bridled, I sense our deepening bond, a shared understanding.

Zenya has crossed the threshold, stepping into a new realm of power and potential. And I, ever the guide at the crossroads, will support and nurture this transformation.

She is ready for the Trials.

"Hello, Beastie," I say with a smile.

The dark queen fronting for Zenya lowers her chin toward me, narrowing her eyes. And then, the smile of a demoness unfolds upon her face. "I think it's time for a family dinner."

She unleashes the reavers.

And Morpheus bursts into outrageous laughs as all the creatures lunge for Nyxion, attacking him and dragging him to the ground.