Nyx

Xehrav dove forward with a wet schlop of flesh on flesh, extending outward like a great hand. Nyx was prepared for the attack; in response, she did the opposite, shelling up and concentrating her relatively much smaller essence body. Xehrav crashed around her, seeking to bury Nyx under the sheer weight of her presence and prodding at her with a thousand seeking tendrils to find a weakness and tear open her defenses.

Nyx stayed firm. She'd known Xehrav would use this approach, and had planned accordingly. She weathered the assault with grim determination, shrinking further and further into herself. Coiling like a spring under immense load. Allowing her sister's weight to help her along. In her essence-starved state, precision was her only weapon against overwhelming power. If Xehrav wielded herself as a sledgehammer, Nyx would have to be a scalpel.

Her sister had expected her to simply curl up and wait to be eaten. Instead, Nyx waited for Xehrav to wear herself out a little, for natural gaps to form in her offense, then struck without warning. A clean slice through countless layers of semi-matter. While Xehrav reeled, Nyx struck in the other direction. And again, and again. Whenever Xehrav tried to rally or issue another attack, she was there to head it off.

By growing herself to such unreasonable proportions, Xehrav had made it impossible for herself to maintain any semblance of cohesion. She was sloppy, unfocused, flailing; a massive heap of childish rage.

All the same, she was significantly larger than Nyx had prepared for, and it was an undeniable fact that she herself was far below her prime. She could have prepared for this fight by finding some lesser implings to consume, but it had been imperative to feign weakness so that Xehrav would feel confident enough to reveal herself. If she had thought Nyx an actual threat to her existence, she would have kept to the shadows indefinitely and worn Nyx down gradually through servants and proxies. Given her present position, she could never have won that kind of war. At least, it would require so much time and clandestine maneuvering that Matthew's quality of life was likely to be greatly impacted.

Whatever her reasons, the simple fact was that, although her cohesion and precision were infinitely greater than her sister's, she was still losing. Her cuts to Xehrav's essence were mere annoyances, and once she recovered from the surprise of actually being resisted, Xehrav gradually adjusted to counter. She pulled back a little and settled from a quick rushdown to a battle off attrition, hitting Nyx at regular intervals with battering rams of presence. It was a battle she did not have a hope of winning.

Nyx fought more desperately; lunging further, taking more risks. But her defense was beginning to peel open under Xehrav's forceful ministrations, threads of her very being pulled in and consumed by her opponent, and she eventually had to admit that not only was she losing—she no longer had any hope of winning.

She'd made a bold play, and she'd lost.

If only I'd been a little stronger…

I'm sorry, Matthew.

Xehrav deflected one last attempt at offense from Nyx and pressed down on her hard in retaliation. Rather than being satisfied with small threads, her greedy mouths were now ripping off and gulping down large chunks of Nyx's essence.

There was no longer any reason to hold back, so she reached into her core and pulled out the treasured memento. She held it at the center of her physical form, keeping it from harm as long as possible while she took in its intoxicating scent one last time. At least, she was glad that Matthew would not see her lose so shamefully.

She went to eat it, to feel that glorious thrill at last. Then, with a sudden realization, her dying comfort turned to a cold, shivering chill.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

She can't have it.

She can't have any piece of him.

Only me.

I am the only one who is allowed to love him.

A sudden calm washed over her. She drew into herself, wrapping tight around the memento, and its scent brought a certainty to her form that she had never once felt, even at her peak.

Xehrav, convinced that Nyx was retreating into herself to flee, loaded on a redoubled surge of violence, every one of her distended mouths howling with scorn as she rose up high in the air, then dropped back down.

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Nyx met the descending pillar of flesh with a reversal, forming herself into a spear point that Xehrav eagerly impaled herself upon, then pried herself wide, splitting her sister down the middle nearly all the way up. She turned her focus to one of the flailing halves and forced herself on top of it, spreading her essence wide to engulf the entire thing like a snake unhinging its jaws to swallow a prey many times larger than itself.

Xehrav laughed at first, self-assured in the desperation of Nyx's final attack, likely thinking she could bat her away easily, but the odious cackling quickly turned to a panicked shriek once Nyx put her infinite hooks in and began to pry and grind. The scales shifted in an instant as Xehrav's clumsy attempts to flagellate Nyx into letting go soundly failed. Nyx's influence sank deeper, her pure-hued essence infiltrating the foul sludge that made up Xehrav's physical form and rapidly cleansing it, turning it into more of herself.

Xehrav was forced to cut her losses and eject her unmolested half. She rolled and flopped across the floor like a beached fish, struggling and failing to reassert her enfeebled being into fighting shape.

Meanwhile, Nyx feasted. She'd never had such a meal, and this was only half of it. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to be powerful, but she was keenly reminded with every greedy bite she took of her enemy's essence, growing and compiling and forcing herself back into manageable shape. By the time she was finished, she stepped clear of the tiny, wriggling black worms that coated the floor—the pieces of essence too vile for her to be interested in—with all her usual grace. She retained her usual measure of womanly beauty, far more proficient at containing her physical form than Xehrav, but within she was so much more than she had been a minute prior.

She approached the giant, frantic slug that made up the remainder of her sister. She was attempting a pitifully slow escape. When Nyx walked past her to stand in her path, hands folded, Xehrav gave up all resistance and fell into a formless blob and began to throw a childish screaming tantrum.

"This isn't faaaaaaaaair!" she wailed. "How dare you steal from me? Everything I have worked for! Give it back, you ungrateful bitch! I helped you when you came to me as a beggar! I showed you mercy when all our siblings turned their backs on you! And this is how you repay me? Thiiiiiiiiiiiiief!"

"Are you finished?" Nyx asked. "I thought I would indulge you the human custom of a few final words—are you really going to waste them complaining about the unfairness of the universe?"

"I should have won! I am stronger! I am younger! I am better than you, you gutless coward!"

"Yes, sister. You were stronger. But there is one thing you forgot to consider."

"Forgot?" Xehrav howled, pounding her tendrils impotently against the floor. "I forgot nothing! I was strong, and you were weak! That is the only measure of any importance!"

"Yes you did."

"What, then? What did I forget?"

Nyx stuck her 'tongue' out and put two 'fingers' up in a 'peace sign'. "You forgot about the power of love."

Xehrav went still for a moment, processing. "What?"

In the end, 'What?' became her final utterance. Nyx swallowed her whole and chewed her up and spat out the bits she didn't like. She was on fire with power. She achieved a state of glorious cosmic alignment, something akin to an orgasm, and took no time to rest as she immediately left the empty ballroom, buzzing with purpose.

The butler had remained obediently outside the door, and looked shocked to see Nyx again.

"Uh, ah, uh," he stammered. "Most calamitous, I… Forgive me, but what did the mistress say to you?"

"We had a pleasant conversation," Nyx said with a polite smile. "Then I killed her."

"What…?" The man's gaze flitted to her face for just a moment before sliding away again. "That's impossible."

"Please, go check for yourself."

He did. When he returned, he looked completely dazed. "What happens now?" he asked. "Without the Headmistress…"

"What do you mean?" Nyx asked sweetly. "I am the Headmistress."

"But…"

"You may kneel."

The butler hesitated only a moment before doing as he was told, going on all fours and pressing his nose to the tiles. "I will serve, most calamitous."

"Good. Though, you should be aware that your new employer is not myself, but another."

"What do you mean?"

"His name is Matthew Caldwell, esquire. You would do well to memorize the name, and be sure to inform the rest of the household immediately. I have other matters to attend to, but I will return later to ensure that you have followed my master's commands."

"I… Yes, of course." He was plainly confused, the poor thing, but knew better than to argue with one of the True Blood—especially the new demon thane of Sheerhome.

"One more thing. Where can I find Nico Vallero?"

The butler explained. She thanked him and left, sliding through walls to reach the outside as quickly as possible.

Just one final bit of business, and then she could go see her beloved. She could not claim to comprehend the concept any better than before—if anything, it seemed even more mystifying to her—but the 'emotion' she felt in her 'heart' could not be anything other than 'love'.

She was already squirming with excitement to see him, her form twitching out of her control like some substance-addicted mortal. She didn't think she'd be able to hold herself back any longer.

I am coming, Matthew.

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