Vol 3.5 Chapter 8: Sherry’s Tale — Reunion
The pair descended the hill, with Sherry looking around like a deer in the headlights. She didn't know how to describe what she was feeling. Happiness? Anxious? Scared? All those emotions and more were running wild inside her. On their way down, she could see some people working in the fields. No, not some people, her people. They all had black hair, and not only that, they used their hair to tilt the soil, manipulating it to form the necessary tools. And every single one was a woman. Just like Myrilla had told her, the Izurd were a matriarchal race. Female Izurdians were the only ones capable of manipulating their hair, making them stronger than their male counterparts. Male Izurdians still possessed the superhuman strength, but they would usually be the one taking care of the household.
When they noticed the pair, they immediately dropped their respective tasks and ran towards the new arrivals.
"Look! It's Myrilla!"
"And who's that with her?"
As a crowd formed around them, Sherry hid herself behind the Nerthusian. Being the center of attention of such a large crowd was something completely overwhelming for her.
Only for Myrilla to nudge her forward, giving her a look that said "Come on, Introduce yourself."
"R-right…"
With her hands timidly placed on the front of her dress, she walked forward, allowing the villagers to get a good look on her.
"H-hello everyone. My name is Sherry. And just like you all, I am an Izurdian." She bowed.
Loud whispers broke out in the crowd. "An Izurdian? But that can't be!" "No, remember Mystel? She might be her daughter." "If she's Mystel's kid, then where is she?!"
"Excuse us. We have to meet with the elder at once." With those words, Myrilla made her way through the crowd, all the while grabbing Sherry's hand, forcing her to follow.
"Mystel?" Sherry's eyes widened. "Is that… is that my mother's—"
"Not now. We make our way to the elder first."
Sherry reluctantly agreed, and the pair resumed their walk, down into the village proper. Now that she could see it closer, she noticed how it looked just like any of the other villages she had stumbled upon in her travels. Same wooden construction, same straw roofs with the exact same design as well. She couldn’t help but feel a tad bit disappointed, as she had imagined something more mystical. Then again, even the less humanlike races that she had met throughout her sojourn on the Demon Continent all had humanlike house, so this was only to be expected.
There was, however, one peculiar building that took her interest. On top of the winding cliff to the north of the village, there was what looked like a shrine of sorts, separated from the rest. And it just so happened it was the place Myrilla was taking her to.
After getting more Izurdians to spy on them from their windows and doors, the two finally made it to the top of the cliff. There, a figure stood in front of them, draped in black and golden robe that exposed a generous amount of her bust and shoulders. Like the other female Izurdians, she had long raven hair that reached down her waist. Her eyes were gold and she had a mischievous smile on her face.
“Myrilla, welcome. It’s been quite a while since your last visit, is it not? Got any trinkets and jewels you would like to sell us?”
“Not now, Fran. I’m here on another business entirely.”
“Ah, I can see that.” Her eyes wandered towards Sherry, making the girl hide herself behind the demoness once more. “I assume she’s one of us?”
“Indeed. And so, I would like to meet Quania.”
“Hmph, Mystel’s daughter, I presume.” She folded her hands, emphasizing her already bountiful chest even further. “She’s the only one who left the village after all.”
“M-Mystel? Is that… is that the name of my mother?”
The two fell silent as Sherry finally obtained the courage she needed to speak up on her own. A smirk grew on Fran’s face, before she replied with a question of her own.
“How old are you, kid?”
“E-eh? Twelve.”
“Then you might just be old enough to be her daughter. Mystel—that foolish girl, she left us twenty years ago to be an adventurer, never to return. Only once did she send a message to us, telling me and Quania how she had met a good man to be her husband. That was twelve years ago. Just in time for you to be born."
Sherry froze. She didn't know what she should say to this revelation.
"That's enough. If we're going to talk, we shouldn't do it standing like this."
Myrilla's interruption put a premature end to their conversation.
"You're right." Fran smiled. "Quania would want to meet her, I'm sure of it, even if she doesn't want to admit it. Come, I'll take you to her."
The big-chested lady turned and began to walk towards the shrine. Myrilla was the first to follow, as Sherry was still overwhelmed by what she just said to her.
My mother… Mystel… she really came from here…
-------
The inside of the shrine was dark. There were no windows to let the sunlight in, nor were there any candles. If one didn't know better, they would think this place was desolated. However, the state of the place itself was clean, with no sign of disrepair.
"Sorry about this." Fran spoke. "Quania prefers the dark."
Prefers the dark? Like a bat? Sherry thought with curiosity.
The group didn't get much further than the first room as Fran opted to stay, gesturing to Myrilla and Sherry to do the same.
"Quania!" Fran yelled. "We got visitors!"
…
…
"Visitors?"
A stern and cold voice came out from the darkness. The group then heard gentle footsteps coming from the darkness beyond, until it stopped, revealing a woman, not that much older-looking than Fran, standing in front of them. Since it was dark, Sherry could barely make out her features, other than her long, black hair reaching down to her waist and the red eyes that peered upon her, seemingly shining through the dimly lit room.
"Myrilla. And… who is that?"
"It's Sherry, Mystel's daughter." Fran explained. "Myrilla had brought her from the outside."
"... Mystel's... daughter?"
What happened next took them all by surprise.
A surge of pitch-black hair came from the darkness, wrapping themselves around Sherry’s arms and legs. The demon girl let out a frightened yelp as she instinctively tried to free herself, only to find that even her superhuman strength could not fight the tensile strength of the hair gripping her.
“W-what? What are you—”
“Let me take a closer look at you, child.”
A blur of dark dashed her way outside the building, passing through Myrilla and Fran who seemed unperturbed by the surprising turn of events. Now that she was under the sunlight, Quania lifted Sherry upwards, keeping her still as her ruby eyes gazed upon her.
“...Indeed. I see the resemblance. But those eyes… they are not hers.”
She let the young girl go, relaxing the tension on her unnaturally lengthy hair, dropping her down to the ground.
“So, what does the daughter of Mystel want with me?”
Sherry had never seen a stare as cold as hers.
----------
The four of them sat down on the shrine’s terrace, though that soon became three with Fran excusing herself to “make some tea”, never returning to the discussion afterwards. Myrilla took the lead on explaining everything, from how Sherry was given to an orphanage as a baby, to how she went all the way here to meet with her kin. However, Sherry managed to gather her courage and interrupted her, saying that she wished to know everything about her mother and the reason why she abandoned her in the first place.
"Then what I feared has come to pass. Your mother… she is dead."
"...Dead?"
Sherry's blood froze.
"W-what do you—"
"She is dead. No Izurdian will ever abandon their child. The fact that she left you at the steps of a human orphanage, means that she knew she would die soon."
Sherry's body was now shaking profusely from top to bottom. Her eyes had grown so large it felt they were going to pop out from their sockets anytime soon.
"N-no, but she can't—"
"Her husband—your father—that filthy human—he betrayed her to be with another woman. That made your mother take her own life out of grief."
"SHUT UP! THAT CAN'T—THAT CAN'T BE TRUE! MOTHER IS… MOTHER IS..."
Tears now drenched Sherry's cheeks. She now stood up with clenched fists, sending a glare towards Quania, who responded by a dispassionate, soulless look.
"That's not very nice of you, Quania."
Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Fran, who finally arrived with her tray of teacups. However, instead of serving them to her guests, she instead leaned on the doorway with folded arms, sending her own glare towards her friend
"That's just the vision that fairy told you. It's not necessarily the truth. Just because your human husband betrayed you doesn't mean all humans are like that."
Hearing her words, Quania stood up and shot her a venomous look of her own.
"This talk is over. Fran, make sure Sherry here gets the reception she deserves."
"How cold. You have nothing to say to your own granddaughter?"
"G-granddaughter?" Sherry's tears stopped, her anger replaced by confusion. "You're my grandmother?"
"She is indeed." Fran was the one to answer. "This broken woman you see in front of you is indeed your mother's mother. Mystel's mother. If you were expecting someone better, well, sorry to say but her glory days are long behind her.”
"Hold your tongue!" Quania hissed.
"That's true, isn't it?" Fran fired back without skipping a beat. "Even after 500 years, you still can't move on from that slaughter. You still make us cower here like rats instead of reclaiming the land stolen from us by those treacherous succubi and incubi."
"SILENCE! YOU KNOW NOTHING, YOU FOOLISH CHILD! YOU WEREN’T THERE WHEN THEY DECIMATED AND HUMILIATED US! THERE IS NOTHING—NOTHING US IZURDIANS CAN DO TO WIN AGAINST THEM! THEY’RE OUR NATURAL ENEMY—OUR PREDATORS!”
Quania panted. It had been a long time since she last shouted like this.
“If I may,” Myrilla, who had remained silent all this time, suddenly interjected. “We can talk about this later. But for now, both me and her are tired from our journey. We would like to rest in our lodgings first.”
She then sent a glare towards Sherry, pretty much telling her to retreat for the day and try again tomorrow.
“...You’re right,” Fran sighed. “We’ve gotten too heated here. Let’s give old Quania here some time on her own to cool down.” She then smiled towards Sherry and Myrilla. “For now, you two can stay in my house.” She then walked past the still furious Quania, ignoring her entirely, as she gestured for the two of them to follow her.
Sherry’s eyes wandered towards Quania, and the two exchanged a short glance before Sherry faltered, unable to bear the anger she sensed hidden beneath those crimson eyes.
She’s my grandmother? Truly?
My true family?
----------
Fran’s abode was much more of a normal place compared to Quania’s shrine. It had windows and was well-lit for starters, and it looked less like a shrine and more like a normal, two-story house.
"Here we are.” Fran proclaimed with a smile when they arrived. “It’s not much but we do have an extra room the two of you could use. It’s the same room you used before when you last came to us five years ago.” She looked at Myrilla. “I do have a son though. But don’t worry. He won’t bother you or anything. He’s a good kid.” She now looked at Sherry.
The woman opened the door without taking out her key, or rather, the door didn’t seem to be locked at all. Entering the house, they were greeted with a sight of a humble and hearty home, not that much different from the house of your ordinary human villager.
“Your room would be the one at the second floor, at the end of the corridor. My son’s room would be the one closer to the stairs and mine would be at the bottom. As for bathrooms, we have a communal outhouse you can use at the four corners of the village. Be warned though. The Fey don’t take it kindly if you do your business anywhere else. Dirtying the soil, they say. And if you want to wash up, there’s a river outside the village that you can use. You’re not the type that’s averse to communal bathing, right?” She smirked.
“N-no!” Sherry lied. In her long journey with Myrilla, she never really got completely used to bathing together with her, let alone bathing with total strangers.
“Good.” Her smirk remained. “We’re all a family here, are we not? So you should treat us like one.”
Sherry’s mind remembered a similar word coming from her adoptive mother. She loved to hug her whenever they bathed together and every time Sherry’s face would turn beet red, especially since her well-endowed chest would bounce and press into her little body every time.
Looking at the woman, and her own well-endowed chest, it only made the memory that much more vivid.
"Myrilla, did you bring the usual with you?" Fran asked as she led them up the small stair.
"I do."
"The usual? What are you two talking about?" Sherry asked.
"She didn't tell you?" Fran smiled. "Myrilla is quite the merchant, you know. She brings trinkets from the outside world in exchange for our hair, which she then sells for a hefty price. You… do know about the properties of our hair, right?"
"Y-yeah. Supposedly it can be stronger than mythril, if the person possessing it is strong enough. I never knew about her selling it though…"
"I don't believe you should know, that's all." Myrilla interrupted. "I've already sold all the hair I had before I fetched you so you had no chance to see me doing so. And, before you ask, your hair is nowhere near strong enough to be used by any smith. You don't even know how to control it yet."
"What?!" Fran turned rapidly, making her breasts jiggle (a sight that Sherry failed not to notice). “You’re an Izurd but you don’t know how to manipulate your hair? Even a three-year old toddler could! It’s like moving your own hands! You don’t think about it, you just do it!”
Sherry looked down in shame. "I-I don't know. Until a few years back, I thought I was a human. Only my unnatural strength gave it away that I wasn’t nor—what I thought I was.”
No, I am normal. I am an Izurd. And that’s how it should be.
But then, if I couldn’t control my hair like the other Izurd… What makes me then?
“Oh dear child, don’t you dare give me that look!”
Before she could do anything, Sherry’s face already rested inside Fran’s cleavage.
“Don’t worry! I’ll teach you how to do it! You just don’t know it because you’ve been living with humans for so long!”
And yet, it was not unpleasant.
----------
Myrilla didn’t remain long in the village. After she finished selling off the dimensionally stored goods she had brought from the outside world , she left the village, telling Sherry that she would try to return every year to check on her progress, though she made no promises. Sherry reluctantly accepted. After traveling for so long with her, she knew she would miss her once she left. She was always there to watch over her, just like she had promised to her human family back home.
Sherry also learnt that Fran was actually her aunt, as she was her mother’s older sister. She refused to call Quania by the title “Mother”, however, as she hated what she has become over the years.
As for her son, his name was Emel, possessing black hair that went down to his shoulders, as well as the red eyes that his mother and grandaunt had. He was the quiet type. He didn’t even comment anything on Sherry becoming a permanent guest of his household. Sherry awkwardly tried to make a conversation with him only to be greeted with a cold shoulder. He wasn’t necessarily rude or anything. He was just… disinterested. Every night, after dinner, he would return to his room, never to come out again until the next morning, where he would depart even before the sun rose. Fran told her that it was for his training. Even though the male was the weaker gender in the Izurd society, that didn’t mean an Izurd woman would like their mate to be weak. In fact, there’s a custom where if a male Izurd could beat a female Izurd in combat, then that male had the right to marry the female. Of course, throughout history, this rarely happened, as the ability to manipulate their hair granted female Izurdians a great advantage compared to their male counterparts.
Her husband, named Graha, was almost a mirror of Emel. He too looked somewhat effeminate. Not having any muscles didn’t help matters at all, a curse shared by all male Izurdians. He was what you would call a house husband since his wife was busy being the acting tribe chief because of the absence of proper guidance by Quania. He was a pleasant man though, always seen with a smile, unlike his grumpier son. Sherry had no problem with him whatsoever.
Fran also told Sherry everything that happened in the past, how the once proud Izurdian race now regressed to the state it was in now. It didn’t take long until they had the conversation, as it happened on the very first night Sherry stayed, after they had their dinner. Fran decided she wanted the conversation to be just between the two of them, thus she sent Graha and Emel to their rooms.
“Once, we were the uncontested rulers of the Demon Continent. No other races would dare to stand in our way. Everyone knew not to pick a fight with an Izurd, or else they would tear you limb to limb with their rage-fueled strength." Fran began her story with a nostalgic smile. "We were a wandering tribe, moving into another demon's territory at will, as there was nothing they could do to stop us." She sighed. "But, eventually, we grew scorned enough for the other races to cooperate, forgoing their selfishness for a singular goal—to destroy us.”
“The succubi and incubi?” Sherry asked.
“Yes, but not just them,” Fran answered. “Other races were there too, like the ogres, centaurs, and orcs. Even the aloof Dragon Tribe decided to join in. However, the succubi and incubi—or rather, their Demon Lords—were the mastermind of the whole operation. It wasn't common information back then that our strength would be weakened if we were embarrassed or humiliated in combat, and naturally, their races, who were experts on such matters, would be the first to discover our weakness.”
Sherry had a thoughtful look on her face. She already knew this weakness of her kind. It was why she could never escape Renee’s grasp whenever she hugged her as she was too embarrassed to keep her strength.
“And so, our downfall began. They employed measures to sexually stimulate us on the battlefield, stripping us off our power so the other races could sweep in and kill us. Only a very few were able to resist their machinery, one being Quania, your grandmother. She would be so enraged in combat that no foul magic the two races used were effective against her. She nearly killed their Demon Lords in combat too. If only she had finished them that day…” Fran held a wistful look. “And so, they plotted something different. If they couldn’t get to her, then they would get to her husband.”
“...They seduced him, didn’t they?” Sherry gulped.
“Oh yes, they did.” Fran smiled bitterly. “The Succubi Queen herself came to him. And she was nothing like her underling. If it were just lust, I believe my father would still be able to resist, even if it meant chopping his own privates off. However, what she possessed was something far more terrifying.”
Fran suddenly sat up from the bed, walking a few steps away from Sherry, looking not at her, but at the mirror hung beside the nearby wardrobe.
“No one knows the details, of course, as I imagine it’s a well-kept secret of hers. But from the rumors I’ve gathered throughout the years, and from herself, I can safely assume that Eros Philia, the self-proclaimed Demon Lord of Love, possesses an ability that can make people fall in love with her.”
“Fall in love? You mean like a love potion?”
Fran turned to face her. “No, much worse. Love potions can only induce lust despite the name. However, her dark magic allows her to make someone truly love her from the bottom of their heart. That’s why when your grandfather was discovered to be fornicating with her in his tent by your grandmother, instead of apologizing, he instead asks her to allow the succubus to be his second wife. Naturally, she didn’t take that well in the slightest.”
“A-and then?”
“They had a fight, of course. In her rage, your grandmother would’ve killed him if not for the succubus queen’s protection. However, in the end, she lost the fight, as her dearest husband declared right then and there that he no longer loved her and wished to be with the succubus instead.”
Fran took a deep sigh, averting her gaze from Sherry once more.
“Her mind broke and she was swallowed by her sorrow. It was the start of our downfall as without her leadership and strength, we stood no chance in the war. Back then, I was only a child, so I knew nothing about the frontline, but it was said that it was a massacre. Our numbers decreased exponentially, either by death or by being charmed by the succubi and incubi. In short, we had to flee.”
Fran took a seat beside her again.
“And then, as you might have guessed, we stumbled upon this valley. The Archfey, fascinated by the heartbreak of your grandmother, decided to make a pact with her, that if she gave her the sweet memories of her husband, all of it, she would, in return, give her people a safe place to hide in. And so our glorious history ended, and since then, we had never ventured back to the outside world. Well, with the exception of my dear little sister, of course.” She smiled at Sherry, who fell silent once her story finished. Gently, she patted her head.
“You know, you remind me of her a lot. She was always the shy one. Even so, she has a lot of adventuring spirit. This village was suffocating for her, she had this incessant desire to explore and experience the entire world.”
“...Tell me.”
“Hm?”
“Tell me everything you know about her.”
“Of course.” Fran smiled. “Now where do I begin?”