Time: Early Morning, Location: Hotspring

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“I’m sorry to ask, but you know where my things are…can I ask you to retrieve them,” “You should get your things too, you look colder than I do,”

Anathema nodded, a faltering smile flitting across her face for half a moment. She was exhausted with worry, and while she was relieved Céline had returned to consciousness, she worried still. The question of what had brought on this episode nagged at her. Wordlessly, Anathema fetched Céline's belongings from the other side of the spring where they had been seated on stones moments before. Boots, coat, bag. And her own things, shoes, stockings, coat, bags.

She dropped her portion, save for her coat, at the edge of the group, not taking time to be gentle. She placed Céline's bag and shoes beside their owner. Anathema paid loose attention to the conversation as she returned, yet happenes to note the short blightborn refer to the dark-haired woman from the spring as though she were a person of high birth.

She helped Céline into her coat. Then wrapping her coat around the blighted woman's shoulders, Anathema spoke in the hushed tone of someone who doesn't wish to damage a fragile sense of calm, "Céline, do you think you can make it to the Temple if we help?" she surveyed the group, if they had to carry her it would be a team effort as they were each dwarfed by the hare-like woman.

“Im Sya, the towns inn keeper, can I ask your name? We got all busy.”

'Sya, inn keeper, certainly not new in town.' Anathema recorded the second blightborn she had met to memory. I suppose a round of introductions are due. Céline," she gestured towards the rabbity woman, now bundled in coats, "and I am Anathema. We are each just arriving to Dawnhaven, though perhaps that's something you guessed already. For helping her, thank you Sya and..." she trailed off, expectant eyes on the remaining stranger.

---

Mentions/Interactions
Céline @SkeankySnack, Octavia @The Savant, Sya @PrinceAlexus

Making his way through town with a scowl on his face, Flynn headed southwest toward Frostmoon Lake, where the temple to the Goddess Seluna had been built. He passed by guards and townsfolk without even a glance as they greeted him good morning, not stopping to make pleasantries or even attempting to appear in a good mood.

<sub>I wish you let me be sacrificed.

I would respectfully ask you reconsider your position.

Stop talking to me like I owe you anything, Flynn.

Mister Porter and I spent time in my bedroom, alone.</sub>

The callous and disrespectful words from nearly every conversation he had that morning swirled around in his mind on repeat. They echoed through his thoughts, louder than anyone trying to get his attention in the world outside of his mind. Flynn’s jaw clenched, and he lingered on each sentence, etching the image of their faces as they spoke into his memory. His fists clenched and unclenched as he trudged through town, their voices chaotically weaving through his mind. Perhaps it had been a blessing from Aelios that he had forgotten his sword this morning. Was this what had caused his father’s heart to turn black and cold? Was this how he felt daily? Had Flynn doomed himself to a fate worse than death by creating this Goddess-forsaken town?

Pausing at the lake’s shore, Flynn stared out at the grand mountain range that divided the two kingdoms. The moon's light bounced beautifully off the lake’s icy waters, lightly illuminating his surroundings. Just beyond the range lay the home he had once known, the one he now longed for, and the one that had sentenced him to death.

He stood there for a while trying to steady his racing mind, recalling the life he had lost. The anger that had been burning in his chest all morning slowly turned into an ache. Eventually, finding clarity and calm under the moon's light, he only felt hollow. The hope he once had for this place was proving difficult to hold on to.

Picking up a smooth, rounded rock, Flynn tossed it up in his hands a few times before flicking it as hard as he could across the water. The rock skipped nine times before plunging to the depths below, disturbing the calm waters and sending ripples across the lake. At one time, he thought he could be the rock for these people, sending out waves of change and positivity throughout the land, as if he could make a difference. But now it just felt like he was also plunging into the darkness below, and it was all for naught. The ripples he thought he could make here were fruitless—a naive idea for Princelings who thought they could control their fate, as if he alone could change the will of Goddesses. A fool's errand.

_{I hope another solution might be revealed. Aelios’ will is as vast as the sky - one cannot see every star in a single night.}

The image of Tia’s note flashed in Flynn’s mind, a gentle reminder to hold onto hope and that he was not the only one carrying the weight of it. He grimaced at the thought, closing his eyes as if the memory caused him physical pain. Shaking his head, he reopened his eyes. The Priestess was either lying, or she was just as foolish.

After a few more silent moments, Flynn turned toward the temple of Seluna. With a deadpan expression, calmer now with the numbed-out feeling in his soul, Flynn made his way across the pier that led into the temple.

Hearing someone not far away caused his eyes to open, it wasn’t their physical sounds that caught his attention, but the mental anguish of jumbled whispered thoughts. Angry. Unpleasant. All around conflicted and torn. It was hard to make out any distinction of what they were saying though his deep blue eyes moved over to see the prince of Aurelia standing at the shore. The man was meditating near the water out on the deck of the moon temple. Was the prince gracing him with a visit this morning?

The moon priest watched the younger man as he picked up a rock and skipped it across the peaceful lake. Under the moon. Standing up the religious man decided that the prince couldn’t see him in short sleeves and pants, so he grabbed his holy garb, and put them back on. The colors of the night sky dressing him beautifully with gold accents of stars and the moon around the dressings and collar. A whisper left his lips, “Seluna, bless me with patience for the prince of Aurelia.”

By the time that Flynn would have approached the front doors of the moon temple, Desya was standing within the portal, and waiting for him. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Flynn Astaros. I do hope this morning is blessed for you,” Desya spoke clearly and foundationally as he stared at the prince. His eyes analyzed every little detail of the man that approached him. His sun-kissed hair, emerald eyes, and tanner skin was a harsher contrast to the usual look of the Lunarians — pale as snow appearances and moon or mid-night sky kissed hair.

"Good morning, Priest Chanamoux." Flynn greeted, bowing his head respectfully before meeting the moon priest's eyes, sizing up the man as they came face to face. Flynn had never met or even heard of Desya Chanamoux before, but he was more built than he would have imagined for someone of the faith. The priests in Aurelia tended to be on the thinner side, frail and lacking muscle to serve them in a fight. This man, on the other hand, seemed like he could hold his own if he needed to. Subconsciously, Flynn appreciated him for it.

"The pleasure is all mine." Flynn offered a courteous smile and extended his hand for a handshake. "How fared your journey?"

“Please,” A faint smile appeared along with a light chuckle. “You can call me Father Desya or Moon Priest Desya. No reason to be so formal with me, Prince Flynn,” The man was playing a hand of tolerance and general kindness since he needed to yet he would have corrected anyone lesser, more sternly. Flynn was the prince and ruler of this beginning town of Dawnhaven, so he thought he could give him some amount of respect — at least face to face.

Desya looked at the man’s hands, “I’m sorry to do this, but I do not care to touch people,” The man’s midnight blue eyes glanced at the tanner man’s hand before looking into his green eyes. Anyone that had enough life experience could tell that the Moon Priest was giving general information but there might be lingering evils in the reasoning on why he was telling Flynn that he doesn’t like touching people — he didn’t want to touch someone let alone it being an Aurelian soul.

Holding back a puzzled expression, Flynn simply gave a singular nod of understanding and let his hand fall back to his side. It was a peculiar thing to have an aversion to, but nothing that Flynn would find unacceptable. “Very well, Father Desya.”

Dipping his head to show respect, “I hope you understand,” Desya felt a little more protected since his hands were intertwined together and all of that was hidden by his darker robes. “And, my journey was fine except for when I arrived here.” The moon priest seemed to pause as he stared into those emerald eyes of the prince. Letting those words sink in. His deeper voice went quiet as he stared. Deciding that it was time to break that silence, he sighed, but he couldn’t find himself to force a smile or any other pleasantries. “Kira, a blightborn under your protection and in your town's care, ripped me from my mount and dragged me into the forest last night. I did have hopes that Dawnhaven could maybe show me another side of those abominations, though I sadly have to inform you that it has done the exact opposite. It has only strengthened the foundation on why they should be strung up to trees or have their head on poles in the outer parts of civilization,”

The moon priest stepped out of the way and gestured for Flynn to come in, “You are welcome to come into the temple, if you want, it isn’t much warmer inside. I apologize. The fires only began to start running.”

Flynn furrowed his brows as he listened to the Moon Priest recount his encounter with one of Dawnhaven’s blight-born. While Kira’s actions were troubling, it was Desya’s vehemently expressed disdain for those afflicted with blight that sent a chill down Flynn’s spine. The palpable hatred in Desya’s words made him question why the capital had sent such a man to Dawnhaven. It only fueled Flynn’s suspicions about the King’s true intentions.

“I deeply apologize for her actions, Father.” Flynn stated as he followed Desya into the temple. Mentally, he made a note to speak with Kira about the matter. If she had wanted to, she could have ended Desya’s life effortlessly; he was well aware of her capabilities. She could have taken him in a blink of an eye and yet here he was. Alive to tell the tale. “I will ensure she is reprimanded and monitored closely.” He reassured the Priest, his eyes falling on the cold moon pool in the middle of the temple—beautiful but far less inviting than the eternal flame inside the temple of Aelios. “Kira is…” he hesitated, reflecting on his experiences with her over the past two months. “Not usually so uncivil. I will address this with her personally.”

“I assure you, it is of utmost importance to me that everyone in Dawnhaven remains safe.” He added, his eyes returning to meet Desya’s.

The moon priest had no reason to hide his disdain of blightborn from the Aurelian prince — his midnight blue eyes looked over the sun-kissed prince as they stood near the sacred waters of the temple. A glittering luminescent effect was caused by the moon’s reflection on the water, causing the room to have ethereal dancing lights on the walls, and a peacefulness in Desya’s eyes. He was listening to the other man’s thoughts and words. “Blightborn cannot be civilized, prince Flynn. They all get hungry at the end of the day.”

No hesitation was in his words. “People always want to see the good in others, but I believe that could be a possible downfall for you. You want to keep humanity in the blightborn but they are not humans. It makes me question your stance, if you want to keep people safe, how are the blightborn of this town being so tolerable and not hungry?” Desya was becoming suspicious of the man’s words. His statements of excuses and defending Kira. He wanted to protect everyone though he was protecting no one. Was Flynn so shielded from the world and so trusting that he didn’t understand what the blightborn were? Monsters. Ambinations.

Flynn kept his eyes on the Priest as he spoke, trying to consider his words, though he became distracted. A subtle tingling began at the back of Flynn’s mind, accompanied by a slight blurring at the periphery of his vision. It was an almost imperceptible shift, only there for a brief moment, something an untrained person might easily overlook. Flynn, however, had been rigorously trained for this exact scenario. Psychic magic came easily to the Lunarians, and the King of Aurelia had been well aware of it. “They will use subterfuge; you must be prepared,” his father had told him countless times, subjecting the Prince to grueling training that tried to break his mind. Psychic magic was notoriously difficult to detect, but there were ways to spot it if you paid attention to the faint cues your body gave you. Flynn's training allowed him to recognize these subtle tells, keeping him alert and mindful of his thoughts.

Flynn’s gaze remained steady on the Priest, his expression unfazed, but now fully aware that Desya was pushing far beyond regular boundaries. Just as his father had warned that the Lunarians would. For now, Flynn would allow the Priest to prod his thoughts while he tried to gauge what the Priest was looking for. It was a bold move for their first meeting. Another problem added to his growing list.

Desya made his way around the pool as he kept his eyes on Flynn, he went over, and carefully lit an incense by candle flame before putting it in a holder. It would smell of sandalwood and lavender. He was thinking and listening. He thought about telling the man how he had run into quite a few blightborn after the infection happened almost a decade ago. How he would be at other temples, not the capital, and how he met quite a few. Everyone he came across was being held by the church or guard for treason — how he had killed a handful or two, maybe more, himself.

“I doubt that I have been the only one attacked and I was attacked while being able to see the borders of the town. Clearly, you are not keeping everyone safe, especially if they are heading towards Dawnhaven or going past it,” Desya wondered if Flynn and Kira had a friendship of sorts because of the prince’s thoughts and words. He wondered if the man could care less about a Lunarian perishing compared to an Aurelian or even a blightborn. There would be no surprise there.

“Respectfully, Father, I hold no dominion over what happens outside these walls,” Flynn stated bluntly, his eyes slightly narrowed on Desya. “The King’s army has already killed a handful of blight-born who sought refuge in Dawnhaven, but they were caught outside the walls. There was nothing I could do.” Images of mangled blight-born flashed in his mind, a grim reminder of the soldiers' brutality. “The blight-born are free to do as they please outside these walls. Here, however, I demand civility. I warn them that I cannot protect them if either kingdom sees them as a threat. Their salvation can be taken from them in an instant if they do not behave. Once they leave this place, their fate is their own.”

Flynn’s gaze moved to the incense that Desya had lit, watching the smoke rise toward the ceiling, where the open dome revealed the starlit sky above. “Perhaps you are right, though.” He met Desya’s eyes again, a slightly softer look in his own. “Perhaps seeing the good in others will be my downfall.” With everything that had happened today, the idea seemed possible. “But I believe you will see that blight-born were all human once. Helping them regain their lives and assume some kind of normalcy again has been one of my greatest achievements.” He spoke truthfully, pride evident in his voice. “People deserve second chances.” He nodded, his gaze returning to the moon pool. Despite the difficulties he had endured lately, he found that he truly believed in what he was saying.

“I will ensure that the blight-born no longer create a hunting ground right outside our walls, however. You are right, it is unacceptable.”

A sigh left Desya’s lips, “I am graced by your presence, but I am wondering… where is your wife? Princess Octavia from Lunaris.”

Flynn looked back toward the moonpool, trying his best to steel his mind against Desya’s intrusion, though it was difficult to keep the feeling of intense conflict at bay. A memory of Octavia’s face pleading with him at the door of their home flashed through his mind. “As I am sure you are aware, she is grieving,” he said, stating what truth he could. “Word of the late Queen just reached us.” He frowned, glancing up at Desya again. “The meeting today is to inform the rest of Dawnhaven, those who have not come from the capital.” He studied the Priest’s face, searching for any sign that he might know more about the situation. “It seems the news has been sequestered quite well.”

“Everyone is for Queen Antoinette,” Desya stated plainly as he let the words of the man swirl inside of him. The man could agree to disagree with the prince. Continue on another path of conversation. He might be right, that everyone deserves a second chance, but at the same time — he couldn’t bring himself to fully compare or accept that stance on the world. He had seen what people are capable of inside and outside of the church. Not everyone deserves second chances.

A chuckle left the man while a thought crossed his mind. He shook his head, “I don’t think you understand the weight of your words in this situation, Prince Flynn. Saying the news is being sequestered, is an understatement, and I can assure you. Not everyone in the capital even knows of her passing,” Desya knew about how all the Queen’s guards were sent away or had other “obligations” around the time of her death. Lord Coswain was one of them and he couldn’t help but allow himself to get snappy with the high ranked guard.

It was amusing, it wasn’t the first time that the king had blinded his people with information, or anything else. Desya could bring up a handful of times when the king would say something happened this way and you would believe the king except when you witness or other people witnessed events differently.

Our farms are not lacking. They are perfectly fine.

Blight did not reach inside the capital's boundaries.

The church is not beating children or mistreating them in any way. They are saints!

A blessed ceremony is this week. One of love and union.

What happened to my first wife? Oh, she is fine though we want the royal family to grow! To be blessed by Seluna with many sons,

The list of many different excuses or turned around situations filtered through his mind. “It might be out of my place, but the church was told about the Queen’s passing before anyone else because we were supposed to hold a private ceremony of her passing, so she was at least officiated by Seluna’s eyes to the next world.” He explained while he let his fingers touch the wall. Feeling each curve, crack, and bump. “I don't believe anything natural happened in her death.”

Flynn raised his brows at Desya’s words, not because he was surprised by the implication that the Queen hadn’t died of natural causes—he had suspected as much based on what he knew of her. But what intrigued him was Desya's implied distrust of the King of Lunaris. It was an unexpected revelation, a stark contrast to the close relationship between the royal family and the church in Aurelia. Flynn, momentarily forgetting to mind his thoughts while Desya was listening, began to wonder if this distrust was widespread within the clergy or if it was unique to the Priest. Perhaps, in Desya, Flynn had found an unlikely ally.

“The Princess mentioned that her mother was well loved by the kingdom,” Flynn said, recalling his conversation with his wife, the memory tinged with the comforting aroma of the brown chai she had prepared. “What possible reason could there be for someone to kill her?” he asked, carefully avoiding any direct mention of the King. Though his suspicions leaned in that direction, he wasn’t ready to make any accusations without proof.

Desya stood there and looked at the man, listening to the thoughts, and considering if he should bring any of his opinions to light. He wouldn’t emphasize anything that wasn’t vocally stated at the moment. An unlikely ally, was an interesting thought indeed. “She was extraordinarily loved. I sometimes believed that the people thought Queen Antoinette was a physical body of the moon goddess Seluna,” he confessed his thoughts but it was true. She was beautiful, graceful, and cared for everyone unlike the harsh contrast of how the King was viewed by his people — fear.

“There could be plenty of reasons…” Desya’s thoughts trailed off as he considered all the options. “Someone wanting to overthrow the royal family, others wanting to crush the hope of the peasants and suffering, to possibly marry someone that can have children, and so much more,” The priest spoke. “Let’s say your Queen, well… princess was getting in the way of things, there was no changing it. No other option in your mind. What would you do? The only option left being to deal with it or dispose of that individual,” His broad shoulders faced Flynn as they stood on either side of the moon pool.

Flynn mulled over Desya’s words, picturing a scenario where Octavia stood in the way of his own plans. The mere thought of disposing of her made his stomach turn. He couldn’t fathom such an action. Yet, Desya’s scenarios struck a chord. He could easily envision the King of Lunaris eliminating his wife to gain an advantage or someone else attempting to overthrow the royal family. Usurping attempts weren’t unheard of in either royal lineage, but the idea that this was what had happened to the Queen seemed far-fetched. Not when considering that the King had already remarried and had a child on the way. The evidence pointed too clearly in one direction—it had to be him.

Desya began to move his one hand which was causing water to move, “There are plenty of reasons to kill a Queen and even more reasons to kill a King. Sometimes, you have to realize that not everyone has the same perspectives, Flynn. Not everyone sees the good in others or second chances or other possibilities. They only see the worst,” The water in the moon pool was rising up and showing liquid formed individuals. Shakily and horribly, since he was only using one hand to manipulate the water. The individuals were clearly fighting and chaos was pursuing.

“Humans love chaos, prince Flynn. If you give them enough reason to distract each other. You don’t have to keep trying anymore,” The water fell down and splashed a little bit before Desya looked up to the moon. “Now, what do you think of that? That someone, possibly of importance, wants to cause chaos so he can do whatever he wants in the borders that protect him?”

Flynn observed as Desya manipulated the water, the moonlight reflecting off its surface in a mesmerizing display. Although it was a harsh reality to live in, the Prince knew that Desya was right. Not all people could be redeemed, no matter how much he wished otherwise. He wanted to believe in the potential for goodness in everyone, but even his father had taught him that some were beyond saving.

The thought of Willis, their newest blight-born, crossed his mind briefly. Flynn couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that no matter how much he tried to help, or how many chances he offered, Willis might be one of those who couldn’t be reformed. Flynn struggled with this inner conflict—the desire to be a compassionate leader who believed in second chances, and the fear of being forced to become an uncaring ruler who had to rule with an iron fist and accept that some were simply lost causes. There had to be a balance, a middle ground between hope and realism, between mercy and strength. He knew he had to find it somehow, for the sake of those who depended on him. He had started this journey desperately wanting to have hope for people, to see them succeed in reclaiming their lives, but the burden of leadership weighed heavily on him, forcing him to question if his hope was misplaced.

“I suppose I would not be surprised.” Flynn replied, glancing at his shoes as droplets of water landed there. “Unimpeded power is tempting for many.”

“I appreciate your insight, Father Desya.” Flynn nodded once in appreciation as he met the Moon Priest’s dark eyes again.

Listening to the thoughts of the other, Desya remained quiet, since he understood his words were heavier than most would appreciate, especially a prince. The man, to an extent, did not care if his words were considered harsh in the presence of royals or not. He was an individual that didn’t necessarily hide his own thoughts or dislikes from others — opinions - opinions — other’s didn’t need sugar coated words in his eyes. He surely did not want them himself. “I do not mean to burden your mind, Prince Flynn. I want the best for the Lunarian people.”

That left a long pause since he went into thought. Did he want more for other people? Indirectly, yes. Wanting the Lunarian people to be safe and this prophecy to be figured out, the Aurelian people would benefit from it as well. Personally, he was conflicted with the thoughts of Aurelians, yet one of his first experiences wasn’t going horrible. Maybe. Just maybe. If the vast majority appeared to be like how their prince was in behavior, he might consider not hating them as much, but he was quickly disgusted by that thought. “I never thought I would be saying this,” A sigh left his lips while he thought about it for a second more. “If I want better for the Lunarian people and this prophecy to be figured out to cure the world. Indirectly, I want the best for the Aurelian people.” He spoke out firmly as he stared into the emerald eyes of the prince on the other side of the moon pool. That meant working with the prince, the princess, the religious representative that the Aurelians had, and the people of Dawnhaven. I cannot deal with the blightborn. He thought about it.

Struggling with thoughts and vocals, Desya grumbled a bit with those thoughts, “It is for the greater good —” His words were testing as if he didn’t want them to be true. “Both religions and people… might… have to work together so not everyone dies in the end,” Though his pessimistic personality was clashing with faith and the slightest bit of hope. One was telling him that there was no way the prophecy would fix anything even if it was fulfilled while the latter was telling him to still have hope. To still know that the world could be saved.

His perspective of doing things for the greater good was highly influencing his words at the moment but he did believe them even if it was a struggle to get out. The man might have not cared for Aurelians and it would be an adjustment for him but his hate for the Lunarian royal family, specifically the king, was greater along with his idealistic hopes to cleanse the Churches of Seluna.

Flynn allowed a faint smile to touch his lips as he watched Desya struggle to find the right words. “I believe you might be right,” he said, agreeing and yet curious, wondering if Desya himself even believed the words he was grappling with. The nations of Lunaris and Aurelia had been at odds for centuries, their histories marked by conflict and mistrust. Yet, hearing that the Priest was open to cooperation gave Flynn a glimmer of hope. It was crucial—if they were to survive the trials ahead, both kingdoms would have to find a way to work together. “Once you’ve had a chance to settle in, you should meet with the Aurelian Priestess. Her name is Tia. She arrived just yesterday.”

“I must attend to other matters, Father, but it was a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Dawnhaven.” Flynn offered the Priest a slight bow of respect before turning to leave. As he walked away, he glanced back over his shoulder. “And Father,” he added, his tone carrying a quiet edge, “stay out of my head next time.” The subtle warning left no doubt that Desya's intrusion had not gone unnoticed—and would not be tolerated again.

Desya seemed to keep an emotionless and unreadable face when the prince turned around and threatened him in such a vague and subtle way. Wondering if he should choose to ignore the man’s words or not. “I hope you are not threatening a moon priest while being in the house of Seluna, Prince Flynn,” He sighed slightly at his own words. “I won’t tolerate that next time, either,” Desya stated without hesitation.

He went to step away then looked at the tiles, “As long as you or anyone else steps into this building. You silently agree to such matters.” A faint smile appeared on the man’s expression when he said his words with such certainty.”Please, if you do not want that, invite me outside of these walls and I will try to respect your boundaries,” Desya could only respect the man’s boundaries so much.

Flynn paused and turned to face the Priest, his eyes narrowing as a forced smile curled on his lips. "Oh, it wasn’t a threat." he said flatly, his gaze locked onto Desya. "I'll be sure to remember that... agreement. Seems I wasn’t aware of this particular Lunarian custom in the Temple of Seluna." Flynn did nothing to directly threaten the man, but the slight sarcasm in his tone was a clear indication of his skepticism. He'd never heard of such a rule and doubted its authenticity. He’d have to ask Octavia about this later. "Please be sure the other Aurelians are informed of this before they step foot inside—if you’d be so kind." Without waiting for a response, Flynn turned and left the temple, his minor annoyance lingering in the air.

Gadez Paladice

A man came wandering down the pathway, a long purple cloak over his entire form, shielding his armor underneath from view, yet his rare weapon of choice was sheathed upon his back neatly. His walk was steady, his pace slow as he observed the various buildings. 'Well, at least things are not burning. Yet.' He mused in his head as he inspected the various surroundings. 'An overly pompous barn. No doubt as pretentious as they are pious.' He thought as his eyes landed on the temple of Seluna.

"Ahh, nothing like the reek of cesspool in the morning. Guh." He said softly to himself as he passed by the tavern. Soon the doors to the herbal shop opened, hitting the small bell at the top to alert that a customer had just entered.

Paladice couldn't help but ponder the possibility that the blight may have it's root in this region, and if that was the case he would have to purify it. But for now there were other priorities, which would involve the prince and princess. He would have to get closer to them. Having not met neither one in person.

'The affliction cannot be magical nor god made. The gods if they exist would not sit idly by whilst a third would wreak havoc on their behalf, it cannot be magical neither for then it could be cured by the same kind. Therefor it must be natural or by alchemy. Perhaps there is some strange plant which causes the affliction, perhaps native only to this region. Perhaps underground or the mountains? I will find the source and-' The man pondered as his ghostly blue eyes wandered over the shop interior, scanning for any sign of taint. That's when he saw it, in the form of a fiery haired woman.

"They say if a flower falls upon the earth and dies, it shall bear life anew. I suspect some of that holds true, wouldn't you say so, oh blazehaired one?" He approached slowly, walking over to take hold of a water filled can used for watering plants. "Abit of water can do one well, but drink too much and one may drown. The prince of the dawned haven may have bitten off more than he can swallow, when all manner of beings swarm to the only seeming hope… or should I say light which they can cling to? Pray tell, what is it you see with those blazing eyes, afflicted one?" Paladice put the water can down and offered a slight upturn at the corner of his lips.

"Hmmm...mm... quite the little shop you have set up for yourself here. Afraid I do not see anything in here which I require, except perhaps your name? Providing you can share such with a mere humble gardener such as myself?" He rested his hand at his waist, revealing his armor underneath his cloak momentarily.

@The Muse

_{Location: Communal Hotspring}

---

Both Anathema and the other blightborn set out to find Céline’s belongings, leaving both herself and the woman whom she had been resting on moments before. Céline wanted to look at the other person, knew that she should look at her, but kept her gaze averted, fearful she might be consumed by hunger just from looking at the woman. Something inside knew that probably wouldn’t happen, the raw emotions Céline had been feeling were now far removed, having been replaced with concern and some anxiety. Still, regardless of her feelings, this person didn’t have to stay, she could have easily run, grabbed guards, had her captured or executed; but that didn’t happen. Gratitude…and a humbling amount of hope to go with it.

When asked about a healer, Céline simply shook her head, “That’s usually my line but..” she coughed, really wanting to chuckle instead. It still seemed that speaking was going to be difficult for a moment still, “no, I don’t think a healer will be necessary,” warmth though…that sounded good right about now. Temperature hadn’t been an issue for her since her rebirth, but for the first time since then, this was the closest to human Céline had felt. “Thank you,” she continued, her eyes still on the ground in front of her, “I don’t really know what happened, but thank you for helping me and I’m sorry for all of this,” the hare-eared woman gestured to herself. Her mind wandered to the feelings that were emanating from this woman before, they felt so strong and so painful… “And I’m sorry…” since speaking, Céline’s eyes turned towards the other woman near her, “for whatever it is you’re going through.” She knew that this phrase would sound strange to the other person, like it had to so many others before, coming from a woman who knew the how, but not the why. The blightborn could only hope that the other individual saw not malicious intent, but true commiseration.

As the others returned however, there was no time for further response or elaboration as the group decided where to bring Céline. The inn had been mentioned, as well as a nearby temple and though she was no devout of Aelios, the woman appreciated the sanctuary such spaces offered. As Anathema helped Céline into her coat the woman couldn’t help but sigh as the warmth enveloped her, only to be surprised as another layer wrapped itself around her

"Céline, do you think you can make it to the Temple if we help?"

Céline was grateful for the extra warmth and tender voice, her ears still somewhat ringing from earlier and only barely able to tolerate certain sounds. A hand found its way on top of hers and gripped it gently, nodding in affirmation to Anathema’s suggestion, small reassurances. Again she was grateful that her new companion took the cue to follow up on introductions. Though Céline had her voice, she didn’t really want to speak unless she had to at this point.

“I think at this point, the temple sounds the best,” she still felt weak, but with the two of them on either of her, Céline could at least balance herself more easily. “Ana and, Sya, was it? Could you help me up? I should be okay to walk with support.”

---

_{Interacting with: Octavia @The Savant, Anathema @Lu, Sya @PrinceAlexus}

Kira moved quietly through her small herb shop in the heart of Dawnhaven, her hands deftly restocking jars of dried leaves, roots, and powders. The shop was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where she could lose herself in the simple, repetitive tasks of grinding herbs and arranging them on shelves. It reminded her of a time long past, when she was still human, hiding in plain sight under a different name, running a similar shop in a different town.

Kira had loathed the assignment when it was first handed to her so many years ago. A top-level assassin, she had honed her skills in the most treacherous of missions, operating in the shadows where her expertise could be fully utilized. Being sent to a small village to pose as an herb shop owner felt like an insult, a waste of her talents. The mundane routine of tending to plants and dealing with townsfolk felt beneath her. But as the days turned into weeks, she found herself unexpectedly drawn to the quiet life. The rhythm of daily tasks, the scent of fresh herbs, and the simplicity of the shop offered a strange sense of peace she hadn’t known she craved. Slowly, the routine she once despised became a refuge, a place where she could momentarily forget the weight of her true identity. All that was torn away from her when the blight came, spreading its dark tendrils through the village, leaving nothing but death and decay in its wake. The fabricated life she had grown to cherish was shattered in an instant, the once-thriving village wiped out, leaving her with nothing but the bitter memory of what had been.

Eventually her thoughts drifted to Desya as she worked, his presence a constant shadow in her mind. She remembered the days when she first met him. The way his gaze had lingered on her, seemingly seeing through the layers of her disguise and igniting a spark that both thrilled and frightened her. The memory of his closeness, of what might have been, stirred a deep ache within her. The feeling unsettled her, so she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the familiar scent of sage and lavender, the comforting ritual of tending to her shop.

The soft chime of the bell above the door suddenly pulled Kira back to the present. Someone had entered the shop. Calmly, she wiped her hands on a nearby cloth and moved to the front of the shop, her senses sharpening as she approached.

“Welcome.” she said, her voice steady as she stepped behind the counter, her eyes immediately assessing the stranger who had just walked in. He was a man she had never seen before, tall with tousled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through the dim candle light of the shop. There was something about his presence that set her on edge, an aura that radiated a subtle but unmistakable sense of danger.

Kira narrowed her fiery orange eyes as she listened to his inquiry, scrutinizing his every move. She took note of the way he moved, the way his eyes scanned the room as if he were searching for something, the armor hidden underneath his cloak, and the way he grabbed her tools as if he were entitled to them. As he continued his monologue, Kira’s expression remained unreadable, her features settled into a calm, unflinching gaze. Her unwavering look was one that was often mistaken for indifference, or even quiet disdain.

Kira’s thoughts churned as she processed the man’s cryptic remarks. It was audacious for him to come in and poetically reference her own past—how she had once died and returned to life. She was unmistakably blight-born, while he was a human who had clearly not had the fear of blight-born instilled into him yet. His words about the Prince biting off more than he could handle was just as daring. The man seemed to have an unsettling familiarity with strangers, and his ease in questioning the prince’s decisions made it clear that he wasn’t afraid of treading on dangerous ground. Kira couldn’t help but admire his nerve, though she thought his approach was both reckless and foolish.

“Humble gardener?” Kira arched a brow, the corners of her lips lifting ever so slightly into a smirk that made it clear she wasn't convinced. “My blazing eyes see you for quite the liar.” she said bluntly, though a hint of playful amusement danced in her gaze now. “I’ve never seen a gardener so armored before.”

Despite the directness of her words, her demeanor remained cool and nonchalant. She leaned a hip against the counter, exuding an effortless calm. “I’m Kira,” she continued, her tone smooth and indifferent. “And what is your name, humble gardener?” She watched him with an almost casual curiosity, making it clear that while she saw through his facade, she had no intention of prying further. After all, everyone had their secrets, and who was she to dig into another's life?

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

Gadez Paladice

"The road to the haven of the damned is a perilous one, even more so for the unprepared. A mere gardener such as myself must be well prepared with the right tools, would there be a need for some urgent weed disposal or planting of a few seeds." He softly stated, his voice collected and with a particular coldness to it.

"A liar? How you wound me, young madam. Your doubt will serve you well in this garden we call world... despite that... miscalculation. Where silver tongued leeches seek to drain you dry...slithering their tongues in your ear, where fawning priests flatter oneanother to eclipse the rumored gods in their blindness... where the most monstrous of fiends don the face of a celestial saviour, where all merchants of death seeks to pass unto you their poison.... you are indeed right to be wary."
Paladice allowed his leather gloved hand to slide his hood back as his voice took on a more philosophical, if not even theatrical tone, as did his body language. His arms and hands following every word uttered. His ghostly blue eyes looking not at Kira's face anymore, but at her posture and her body, inspecting it and her attire. His tone of voice changed once more to a more complimentary and almost playful one.

"They say the most beautiful of flowers are the most poisonous, that shall serve you equally well in your path ahead. Fret not the man who flaunt his intellect, for it is the one who dons the mask of a fool who is the cunning one. Yet I am afraid this humble gardener is neither of the two. Blessings and curses can varie quite the bit, and this wanderer has pulled the short end of the stick... almost as short as you. Kira. Short yet effective, think that summerize you well does it not?" He offered a faint smile, his eyes closing almost fully as he did. Knowing the locals would aid his plan for Dawnhaven, even if it meant conversing with some of the afflicted. While they most likely never asked for the curse, they still would bear responsibility for their actions. The warrior-monk allowed himself a thought of satisfaction of completely ruining -everything-. The woman before his seemed sharp, not just her smile, but overall. Perhaps she would prove useful later.

"I go by the name of Gadez Paladice, a newly appointed gardener to the young princess, and judging by the mess of this place, that is sorely needed. Besides one never knows what one may find whilst planting seeds in the royals private garden." He offered a bowing motion, akin to that of a butler. "Your garden wouldn't be in need of any inspection would it? Seems your stock is quite the varied package. Seems to have grown quite well too." He blew some air out his nose as he inspected a plant from afar, chuckling softly as he did, before his eyes settled on Kira again.

@The Muse

Redacted

Sya felt a little selfish suggesting the Temple but it was close, easy to find, warm and also was a place they would have some protection from snow etc. She just wanted to soak her feet again and relax. The last day even, just a day had reminded her that she could enjoy her life and make the most of it, so she would and one of those would be taking a little time for herself to enjoy these wonderful hot springs.

Her plan was to soak and maybe swim a little in the deeper public area to ease her tense muscles, her back and feet especially when feeling the benefits of the hot waters. She needed to look after herself, she was not even sure to be honest looking at her pale skin, running a hand past her bun to her now pointed ears what she was now.

Sya just wanted to be happy, was that too much to ask, though waking up next to someone was a thing she hoped would stay. Crazy, they had met a day ago and shared a bed but hey, she was not normal by any means. Broke out her thoughts Sya turned and took the names to faces to memory, her big eye lingered on them for a second as she placed them in her mind. “If you ever need me, I am mostly found at the Eye of Beholder, hot springs, or the market mostly.” Sya said generously and right then and there decided the hot springs would be a place she visited more often.

Sya nodded at her name. “Da, Temple It is, easy on the steps. Be most way once we on flat” She said and wondered how, probably her waist as she was much taller than the just a nudge over 5 foot woman Sya was. Her height and build were somewhat less than others.

“We can manage, enjoy the springs while you can, town will go mad at 10am, that's what I plan to do, look after myself. We forget we need it.” Sya did not know the Princess, only met her in passing as she tends to stick to their lodge but she could feel for her stress, Sya managed the eye, Octavia managed a whole town resting on her and her husband, all would be on them if they failed. The Blighrborn tried to be kind to Octavia and mirrored that she dropped her title and so, approaching it more neutrally and without their stations as much. Sya was trying anyway, she looked in Syas eye and it's detail that she needed some time away from everything and just to sit and enjoy the warmth. Just a feeling she got from Octavia.

For all the …everything. Sya was trying to genuinely just be kind. Olivia had reminded Sya most intimately she was still very much human.

“let's get you to the Temple Celine, Anathema… Ana, you take it right. I'm on the left.” Sya struggled to make the name at first so dropped it down to Ana with an apologetic look.

Hopefully she agreed and Sya could help this blightborn, the blightborn with one eye could spend her time soaking In hot waters.

@The Savant@SkeankySnack@Lu

Flynn left the Seluna temple with a scowl, the echo of Desya's invasive presence still gnawing at him. He couldn't shake the unease that settled in his chest, a growing suspicion of the priest and his casual disregard for the sanctity of a person's thoughts. Desya’s claim that anyone entering the temple was, by default, agreeing to have their minds searched felt like a fabrication and a manipulation of trust. Flynn decided he would ask Octavia about it, needing to verify the truth of the so-called Lunarian custom.

As he walked, the memory of Octavia slamming the door after their argument resurfaced, tightening the knot of anxiety in his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to facing her again, not with the way they’d left things. He felt a pang of guilt thinking about Sunni, who he’d left to handle the aftermath. The thought of what might be waiting for him at home weighed heavily on his mind, and Flynn couldn't help but wonder if his friend had managed to calm Octavia—or if things had only worsened in his absence.

Making his way back toward the cabin, his thoughts churned with a mix of frustration, guilt, and confusion. He knew he could have handled the situation with Octavia better, but it was difficult to navigate with the pressure of their lives hanging in the balance. The weight of responsibility bore down on him constantly, and for Octavia to disregard it as if it were nothing felt like a betrayal. He couldn’t understand how she could be so cavalier about something that kept him up night after night.

Then there was the matter of Pleiades. The image of Octavia comfortably cuddled up with the blight-born disturbed him, stirring a deep discomfort he couldn't shake. Pleiades had assured him that nothing had happened between them, but the reassurance felt hollow. In Aurelia, a woman in bed with another man was scandalous, a clear sign she was seeking a way out of her marriage, regardless of how innocent the situation might be. The impropriety of the situation unsettled Flynn, leaving him questioning why he had ever believed there was a chance they might grow to truly care for one another someday.

His emotions surged wildly, a storm of insecurity and resentment brewing as he continued down gravel pathways, his eyes staring ahead but clearly lost in his thoughts. He barely registered the path before him, his mind too caught up in the turmoil of what had become his life. All of it combined had left him feeling more lost than ever.

Finally reaching his cabin, Flynn eased the door open, the hinges creaking softly as he did. He carefully stepped inside, closing the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert anyone to his return. Pausing, he listened intently for any sign of movement, voices, or the faintest sound that might suggest someone was inside. The house was silent.

Flynn's brow furrowed slightly as he took in the quiet. It was unusual for Octavia to have left the house, as she had rarely ventured out these last two months. While part of him felt a tinge of relief at her absence, the unexpectedness of it stirred an unsettling feeling in him. The thought of how their last interaction had ended, and the guilt of leaving Sunni to handle Octavia alone pressed on his conscience. He couldn’t shake the nervous edge that accompanied the knowledge of her absence, as though it were another sign of the discord brewing between them.

Certain he was alone, Flynn peeked outside again, spotting a guard standing watch nearby. With a nod, he motioned the guard over and instructed him to have a servant fetch bathwater and fill his bath. Satisfied the message would be relayed, Flynn returned inside, heading to his study. The quiet of the house felt eerie, a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. Settling at his desk, he began drafting the speech he would give at the town meeting in a few hours, his focus gradually sharpening as he put pen to paper.

Sitting at his desk, quill in hand, the soft scratch of ink on parchment filled the quiet of his study. For the next thirty minutes, he carefully composed his speech, each word chosen with precision. He felt the gravity of the message he was about to relay and wanted to ensure that it was clear and impactful. The quill dipped and swirled, the parchment slowly filling with his thoughts and intentions. Throughout his speech, Flynn had deliberately included pauses for Octavia to speak about the Late Queen. However, the anxiety in his gut suggested he might need to omit these sections. Octavia had expressed a desire to address the town herself, but her current absence from the house gave him a hint of doubt.

After what felt like a small eternity, Flynn set down the quill and leaned back, letting out a quiet sigh. He read over the speech one final time, his eyes scanning each line to ensure it conveyed the gravity of the situation. Satisfied with his work, he gently folded the parchment and took it with him as he made his way upstairs to his bedchambers.

As he entered, Flynn was greeted by the sight of a steaming bath, just as he had requested. The servant had done their job well, and the warmth from the water beckoned to him. Setting the speech aside, Flynn began to undress, the chill of the day clinging to his skin. He stepped into the bath, and a wave of relief washed over him as the warm water enveloped his body.

For a moment, he simply savored the sensation, letting the heat seep into his muscles and melt away the tension that had built up over the day. He then began to scrub himself clean, ridding his body of the sweat from his morning run and the nerves that had accumulated throughout the day. The water soothed his mind as well as his body, offering him a brief respite from the burdens he carried.

Flynn finished his bath, letting the last of the tension wash away with the water. He dried himself off and donned attire more befitting of his station as Prince. As he fastened the last button, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenges ahead. For a brief moment, he silently thanked Aelios for Octavia’s absence, appreciating the rare opportunity to find some solace and relaxation. Yet, even as he allowed himself this small reprieve, the lingering unease of her absence weighed on him, casting a shadow over the fleeting peace.

Forcing his mind to shift to the task at hand, Flynn thought of his trusted advisor, Orion. Flynn needed his counsel now more than ever—not just for advice on how to address the town, but also to share the burdens of everything that had transpired since they last spoke. With one hour left until the town meeting, Flynn grabbed his sword and left his home, setting out to find Orion and determined to face what lay ahead with the support of his advisor.

---

_{Mentions: Octavia @The Savant, Orion @Qia}

Kira listened intently as Gadez spoke, his words flowing with a mix of coldness and theatrical flair that piqued her curiosity. His boldness amused her, particularly when he described her as "short yet effective." It was a compliment she could appreciate. However, the insinuation that her herb shop was a mess didn't sit well. She felt a flicker of irritation but kept it well-hidden behind her calm, calculated demeanor.

Her eyes never left him as he continued his monologue, his gaze drifting over her and her shop with an unsettling scrutiny. She found him intriguing, but that intrigue was tempered by a healthy dose of skepticism. His words were too smooth, his compliments laced with subtle digs that made her question his true intentions. She had come across many similar types of people during her training as an assassin. Gadez was clearly no mere gardener, and Kira wasn’t one to take anyone at face value—especially not someone who so effortlessly mingled flattery with critique.

"Short yet effective," she echoed with a faint smile, acknowledging his compliment. "I’d agree with that." Her tone was even, almost nonchalant, but there was a sharpness in her gaze that conveyed she was not one to be trifled with. Tilting her head slightly, Kira’s expression turned thoughtful. "I wasn’t aware the Princess was in need of a gardener," she said, her tone mild but laced with curiosity. "I suppose it makes sense, given the state of things."

Kira let her eyes sweep over the assortment of herbs and plants she had painstakingly gathered and nurtured. "Gardening isn’t really my specialty," she said, her tone practical and matter-of-fact. "The land here is harsh, and the ground grows too cold for anything to survive for long. Most of what you see here has been foraged from the forest. The wilds still hold some life, even in this unforgiving place."

Kira’s gaze shifted back to Gadez, her demeanor calm as she explained further. "I manage with a few plants indoors where the environment can be controlled, but for the most part, it’s a matter of finding what already exists in the wilderness and making use of it. The forest provides, if you know where to look." Her words were straightforward, devoid of any embellishment. She wasn’t trying to impress him, only stating the reality of the situation. "I appreciate your offer, but my needs are somewhat unconventional. The ground may be too cold, but the forest—well, it’s resilient."

Kira studied him for a moment, weighing his offer. "If you truly want to be of use here," she began, a hint of challenge lacing her words, "you’ll need more than gardening skills. Foraging is what keeps these shelves stocked. It’s not just about knowing plants—it’s about understanding the land, knowing where to look, and being able to defend yourself against what dwells in the dark."

She regarded him with a sharp, assessing gaze and a brief look at the armor hidden beneath his cloak. "You seem capable, despite being a humble gardener. Do you know how to forage and defend yourself? Can you navigate the wilds and find what others overlook? If so, then perhaps you could be of some use to me, Gadez Paladice."

She repeated his name, tasting it as if weighing it for truth. Her slight smile remained, polite and controlled, but her eyes held a wary glint. She wasn’t fooled by his polished words, nor did she trust his intentions. But for now, she was content to play along, intrigued to see where this interaction might lead.

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

Gadez Paladice

"The princess needs alot of things, a gardener amongst them. Whereof my skills in the garden can help her chosen rose bloom. Even in this harsh land, things perservere. In some cases one could even say it causes some to excel, to distinguish themselves amidst the rest. It is the law of nature that the fit survive, yet were one to simply be guided by that law alone, then one would become nothing more than a monster. Fret not of feeling like you are lacking in my presence, I am certain your talents are up a different branch. If you care for the preservation of your kind and of Dawnhaven, make your best to keep your supply steady. Yet afraid I cannot aid you with the gathering, I plant the seeds, yet I am not the harvester." Paladice softly spoke before continuing.

"Controlling the environment hm? One may attempt to do so, but should always be prepared that something may go astray. But you are correct, one needs more than just gardening skills to make this haven survive the coming storm. Thankfully I know just the method, providing there's enough space in said garden to grow what must be grown. I know my way around to aqquire food and shelter, yet I am no ranger nor huntsman of the forest, not a druid or a shaman. As for defending myself, well I think all beings possess some form of ability to defend oneself, the result of said defense however would depend on ones might and magic, skill and will, among many other factors, including what foe one would face. But people fight to live don't they? Even you in your condition chose to eat, whatever nourishment it is that you'll consume, you chose to proceed even though the road ahead may be barren and without promise.

It doesn't stop your wish does it? I wonder though… what is your wish? That very thing which makes you eat, that thing which pushes you onwards? You need not tell me, for it is not my business. I am not someone who forcefully defile another's private chamber of though. But to answer your question, I would say I can defend myself if the need arises." He softly mused, his eyes looking sleepy for a moment as they wandered over Kira again. His hand moved up to trace a finger along his breastplate, as if checking if Kira's eyes would follow it. He moved it down abit and then smirked, before withdrawing his hand.

"You are a capable one, perceptive, a listener, direct to the point. Calm. Most people would be unhinged by my words, some angered, others mightily confused, some even weary and unable to hear them. Or refusing to. But you are different, that I can tell. Well, I've ought to be on my way, we shall no doubt meet again, Kira. Never forget for whom or what purpose you struggle. Your focus determines if you'll reach the end of the maze." He said in an approving tone, his lips formed into a more relaxed smile. Kira was proving to be quite the calm and collected individual, she was clearly not just any herbalist that much was certain. The warrior-monk suspected that she may indeed be someone whose been snooping around, not quite a spy. But someone who had attention for detail, who listened and perceived things well. A professional in her craft, whatever it may be hidden under the guise of her herbal store. Perhaps some of the other inhabitants would shed abit of light upon it, after all if he were to play the greatest play ever played, then he would need to know what roles each one would have in the tale which was about to be written into the pages of history.

'Future. Some predict it. I inflict it.' He mused in his head.

@The Muse

The blanket of dark clouds overhead stretched as far as the eye could see, sealing away any glimpse of the sun and Ashe Emberweaver trudged along the outskirts of Dawnhaven. Their metal cart scraped and rattled over the uneven road, handles already growing warm under their grip. Even through the darkness, the glow of the fire within them flickered faintly—embers smouldering beneath their skin, making them stand out like a wildfire in the forest.

Every few hundred metres, they’d stop, flexing their fingers as wisps of steam curled up from the cart’s handles. They couldn't afford to let them overheat. Patience was essential; this was a delicate balance they still hadn't fully mastered, physical labour was always more taxing than working their craft.
The town grew closer, a silhouette against the dim glow from scattered lanterns flickering in windows and along streets. The early risers of Dawnhaven had begun to stir. Their figures moved like shadows, going about their routines.

Resuming their trek, Ashe pulled the cart with steady effort, their breath calm despite the weight of their belongings. There was no sun to mark the time, but they could sense the shift in the town’s activity as life slowly returned. The people had work to do. As Ashe neared the town’s entrance, a few heads turned, curious or cautious eyes watching them from the corners of the street. The glow of their fiery presence did not go unnoticed.

Ashe's clothing spoke more than they could about their craft. They wore a long-sleeved shirt and pants, both woven from the very flames they commanded, the first pieces of clothing Ashe ever made. The shirt was adorned with intricate, patterns that flickered like embers in the dark, while the pants had a subtle sheen that gave them an otherworldly quality. Over their shoulders, they draped a cloak, its edges constantly writhing with a warm, flickering light.

Two guards stood watch at the town’s gate. The dull light reflected off their armour, and as Ashe approached, they straightened, their gazes locking onto them. Ashe could feel the guards’ unease, their fingers tightening around their weapons.

"Morning," Ashe greeted them with a nod, though their voice was like charcoal crushed under one’s heel—low, rough, and brittle, as if it had been scraped from the depths of a smouldering fire. They stopped several paces away, careful not to let their heat get too close.
The taller of the two guards studied them, his eyes lingering on the faint flickers of flame dancing across Ashe’s shoulders and arms. "Who are you?" the guard asked, his tone more cautious than confrontational.

"Ashe Emberweaver," they replied evenly. "[color=#D35400]Blight-born. Just arrived from the south, looking to settle here in Dawnhaven." They gestured to the cart behind them, its metal frame slightly singed from their heat. "I heard the prince welcomes newcomers."

The second guard, shorter but stockier, narrowed his eyes. "The prince is occupied at the moment. If you’re hoping for an audience, you’ll have to wait. Could be a while."

Ashe nodded. "Understood. Just looking for a place to rest for now. Is there an inn nearby?"

The taller guard relaxed slightly and pointed down a nearby street. "You’ll find an inn by the Market Square. Shouldn’t be far, and they’ll take in all kinds. You’ll be fine there."

"Thanks," Ashe muttered, already feeling the heat rising again in their palms. With a final nod, they turned toward the town’s interior, their cart dragging behind them with a metallic scrape.

Ashe entered the heart of Dawnhaven, moving carefully through the narrow streets. Humans, mostly, wandered the roads now, and while some glanced in their direction, few dared to approach. They couldn’t blame them—their presence radiated a warmth that grew more intense the closer anyone got, the heat rolling off them in waves. Even though they were trying their best to control it, keeping a safe distance from the townsfolk was a necessity. They wouldn’t risk anyone getting burnt to a crisp.

The cart they pulled was simple, bearing only the essentials of a traveller on the move. A bedroll lay rolled up on top, accompanied by basic supplies like tools, a small cooking pot, and rations that had been stretched thin over the journey. But buried among the practicalities were the more personal pieces of Ashe’s trade. A few shirts crafted from fire itself rested delicately inside, the embers woven into the fabric flickering and shifting like molten silk. Warm to the touch but controlled, they were a testament of their ability to shape the flame into something beautiful, something wearable.

Tucked carefully alongside the garments were two fire sculptures, their intricate forms dancing softly in the cart’s dim light. The first was a radiant likeness of Aelios, goddess of the sun, her flames swirling with power and grace. The second, Seluna, goddess of the moon, held a quieter, cooler flame, her ethereal form no less intricate. These statues were more than just simple goods—they were extensions of Ashe’s essence, embodiments of their control over the flame and gifts for the prince and his wife.

As they moved further into the town, the weight of their journey seemed to settle on them more heavily than ever. The inn was up ahead, a small beacon of warmth amid the cold mist, but Ashe’s thoughts lingered elsewhere—on the life they had left behind and the uncertain one that lay ahead.
Ashe moved deeper into the heart of Dawnhaven, the metallic scrape of the cart echoing along the streets. The town bustled with early morning activity, humans hurrying to and fro, tending to their daily tasks. But it wasn’t just humans who occupied the streets. As they passed through the marketplace, Ashe’s smouldering eyes caught glimpses of others like them—Blight-born, each marked by the curse in different ways.

A man with stone-like skin sat on the edge of a fountain, water trickling from his arm as he soaked in the coolness. Nearby, a woman with silver, metallic veins running through her pale skin spoke quietly with a vendor, her fingers leaving frost on the goods she examined. A child, no older than ten, played by the fountain’s edge, his feet trailing black smoke as he ran. The Blight-born were scattered among the humans, integrated yet distinct, their otherworldly appearances drawing cautious glances from the townsfolk.

Ashe continued on, the glow from their ember-like veins casting a faint, warm light around them, warding off the morning’s chill. The inn, as the guard had directed, came into view—a sturdy, wooden building and even from a distance, Ashe could see the warm glow of a fire within, shadows of patrons that already gathered.

But something else caught their eye—a building across the street, slightly set back from the bustling market square. A newly built building, small but spacious even while seeing it from a distance. Work still needed to be done on it, couple of windows were missing and stone pieces were still missing but it was perfect.

Ashe stopped in their tracks, the cart coming to a halt behind them. The building called to them, its emptiness full of potential. They could already picture it—a place to sleep in the back, flames roaring as they worked, the front filled with racks of flame-wrought garments, and the flickering light of fire sculptures. It was perfect. This would be Emberweaver’s—a place where they could channel their fire, their ambition, and their craft.

They allowed themselves a small, satisfied smile, the heat from their body causing the cart’s handles to emit a faint sizzle. The inn could wait. First, they would need to inquire about this place. Dawnhaven was already starting to feel more like home.

It was clear for Ashe. Dawnhaven would be a new beginning. And while the future remained shrouded beneath the ever-dark sky, one thing burned clear in Ashe’s mind: they would forge their path in the flames of ambition.

Ashe wheeled the cart into the shop space that would soon become Emberweaver. The building, though still bare, radiated with potential. With a final grunt of effort, they parked the cart against the far wall. The few wares they'd brought were carefully unloaded and set aside for later organisation. For now, the cart would rest, and so would they, but not before taking in the sights of Dawnhaven.

The space was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of Ashe’s own fire flickering faintly. With a satisfied nod, they stood in the center of the room, mentally plotting out where shelves and workstations would go. The front room would be filled with the fiery fabrics and garments they specialised in, while the back would house their personal quarters. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough. The small corner near the window would make for a perfect spot to display their fire sculptures, and the sleeping area in the back would offer some comfort after long days of weaving flames.

Stepping outside, Ashe closed the door behind them and let out a slow breath, feeling the tension of the journey beginning to ease. The chill in the air contrasted with the warmth radiating from their skin, but it felt refreshing.
Ashe began walking, taking in the sights and sounds of the town. It was a bustling place, larger than the few settlements they’d passed on the way here. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, and street vendors had started setting up their stalls, selling everything from trinkets to fresh produce.

Wandering deeper into the town, Ashe’s thoughts began to drift. The journey had been long, but finally, they were here, in a place that could be a fresh start. The weight of their past wasn’t fully gone, but it felt lighter now, as if the flames inside them were burning away the remnants of old burdens.

As they turned from the park, Ashe’s eyes caught sight of a modest bathhouse nestled between two larger buildings. A gentle curl of steam rose from its chimney, hinting at the warmth inside. The thought of submerging in a bath—letting the heat mingle with their own fire—was a temptation too strong to resist.

With a quiet exhale, Ashe decided it was exactly what they needed. Their muscles ached from days of pulling the cart, and though they radiated their own warmth, the idea of sinking into a heated pool, relaxing fully, was appealing. Besides, the water wouldn't be enough to weaken them, not if they kept their flames under control.

They stepped inside the bathhouse, the scent of lavender and rosemary immediately filling the air. The attendant, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, greeted them with a nod and a polite, "Welcome."

Ashe nodded in return, their deep voice like charcoal crushed underfoot. "A quick bath."

The woman glanced at their glowing skin but said nothing, simply gesturing them toward the changing room. Ashe offered a small, appreciative nod before making their way further inside. This was exactly what they needed—some time to unwind, to let the stress of travel melt away in the warm embrace of water and steam.

Sya stretched a small foot out and toes Just poked over the surface moving then and feeling the cooler air contrast with the heat of the water. She had helped the Blightborn to the Temple and left them with their new friend, there was very little to do and Sya felt like a 3rd wheel so had found a nice smooth section of rock, laid out her found Towel as an impromptu pillow of sorts and got comfortable. Much as Sya was improving and becoming more socialised again the whole situation had got a little awkward so had taken the first polite opportunity to return to bathing in the springs.

A deep sigh came as her body was immersed and forgot about her long mental to do list. Time was allowed to slip by and Sya truly relaxed and let her body take the lead. The modest looking building entrance hid quite a surprise as it turned out of the open air natural hot spring pool and as she had found out and much enjoyed due to things being quiet and deep enough for her to have swam a few short laps. That had eased away knots of tension Sya did not even know she had.

Maybe Olivia knew a massage…that would be nice….
So the Cyclopean woman found herself back by the bank, barely paying attention to the world around her as she ran a hand over her elf-like ear to check her simple bun was still in place and quietly sang a song she remembered from the bard at a feast many years ago.

“With a Voice wielding power
Of the ancient Nord art
Believe, believe,
The Dragonborn comes”

Inside the changing room, Ashe found solace in the silence. Finally, a moment to themselves after the gruelling days on the road. They moved slowly, unfastening the fire-woven garments they had so carefully crafted. The flickering fabric, woven of flame, was draped neatly over a wooden bench. Ashe hesitated a moment, a flicker of concern crossing their mind—had they tightened the weave enough?—but after a brief inspection, they decided it would hold. The bench would remain unscathed, at least for now.

With their clothes removed, the full extent of their transformation was revealed. Beneath the dark folds of the garments, their body bore the scars of the blight. The molten hues of their skin—deep oranges and charcoals—merged with glowing veins of ember that pulsed beneath the surface, remnants of a fire that had once consumed them from within. It was a disturbing contrast, a lingering reminder of the day they had burned. The inferno that ignited inside their very core, reshaping them into what they had become today.

They pushed the door open and left the quiet of the changing room behind. The gentle hum of the bathhouse surrounded them—a mix of soft voices, the trickle of water, and the faint hiss of steam. But amidst it all, there was a sound that tugged at their memory. A song, familiar but distant. The melody stirred something within Ashe, pulling them back to a time before their transformation, back to taverns filled with life.

They closed their eyes briefly, inhaling the humid air, and as their body responded to the moisture, a soft hiss of steam rose from their skin—heat meeting humidity in a fleeting burst. Almost unconsciously, they joined in, their deep voice rumbling through the bathhouse like fire catching in a hearth.

“It's an end to the evil
Of all Skyrim's foes
Beware, beware,
The Dragonborn's wrath grows
For the darkness has passed
And the legend yet grows
You'll know, you'll know
The Dragonborn comes.”

The acoustics of the bathhouse carried their voice, amplifying the rich, dark tones. What might have been a song of triumph took on a haunting edge when sung in Ashe’s low, gravelly pitch, making the legend of the Dragonborn sound more like a foreboding prophecy.
Ashe stepped toward the water, their skin shimmering under the dim lighting as they submerged themselves. The moment they did, the water around them hissed and bubbled, boiling on contact with their fiery body.

Ashe winced slightly, closing their eyes as they strived to control their internal flame, slowly cooling themselves to a more manageable temperature. Gradually, the boiling ceased.
Once their body had settled into the water, Ashe's eyes wandered across the pool, where the source of the song sat. A woman, seated on the opposite side. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something about her presence that spoke of the blight, something familiar.
And then they saw it—her face, where one would expect two eyes, she had only a single, large eye staring back at them. She was blight-born, like Ashe, her form twisted by the same darkness that had reshaped them both.

Sya blinked when she heard a deeper and more bass voice take over the rest of the song, the long was an old one and no one was quite sure where it came from but it had been sang In many a tavern and great hall. The voice turned her a little off key version into a darker but a powerful song Sya could sing to the standard anyone could… She was far from a bard and never would have made it into college.

Curiosity struck Sya as a burst of steam caught her eye, the movement, colour and shape did not however match what she expected at all…something was curiously different. Her vision was blurred by the heat and steam which was a new thing for Sya who had found even in the deepest night she could see through the gloom in artificial blue and greenish hues.

Sya just had to answer that curious thought and pushed off crossing the hot spring at a gentle swim to not make waves, she could walk but followed her instincts, Sya could be a little impulsive like that though like Olivia… That had worked out better than she imagined and went with her gut.

The figure that was resolved into view was certainly different, almost elementary powered and definitely cursed in ways Sya was glad she could effectively blend in with the right applications of clothing and caution to avoid notice. No one looked too hard at a small woman trying not to make a fuss.

"Hello, I hope you do not mind me coming over." Sya made herself comfortable on the bank, bearing a scar over her heart openly as she got herself Into a good spot. The heat was higher here and though the blight born was somewhat more intimidating than her own mutation, her gut told her to carry on.

"My name’s Sya, I run the Inn, though right now I'm trying to avoid work. " Sya said with a little cheeky glint to her expressive eye, Being called Mistress Leela had been a double take for sure, Sya…was Sya. "Welcome to Dawn Haven, i think i'd hardly miss you about town. Many more of us than I imagined somehow survived and got here." Sya said lightly. Being the innkeeper almost everyone ended up inside her door at some point, even Pilades…he only drank water though. Tea.. she had made something tea…like.. by his expression of pain.

Ashe shifted slightly in the water, their molten skin still radiating warmth, sending another hiss of steam into the air. They regarded Sya for a moment, their deep, burning voice resonating through the space like coals stirring in a fire.

"Ashe Emberweaver," they began, their eyes glowing softly beneath the dark mist of steam. "I’d be careful if I were you, Sya. The closer you get, the more likely you are to feel the heat, accidents can happen. "

With a swift motion, Ashe raised a hand from the water. As their palm broke the surface, a faint shimmer danced across their fingertips. One of their fingers began to glow brighter, the ember-like heat intensifying until it blazed a vivid orange for a few moments before dimming again as they lowered their hand back into the water.

"Just arrived today. Passed by the inn earlier. I was going to come in, but..." They paused, their molten gaze meeting Sya's. "I found a place of my own just beyond it. A stone building. Thought it’d be perfect for my new shop."

They leaned back slightly, letting the steam rise again from their skin. "It's been a long road to get here, but I think this town might suit me.

Sya backed off, much as she was immune to the cold, flame and heat certainly could still hurt the woman who however Could still tell the water was hotter than the other side of the springs. She was surprised by the flame but did not run and found comfort as they went rock to perch on but still were mostly covered by the waters where it mattered. "Noted. That rock was more comfortable though." She said with no real harm or intent, just a passing comment as she poked a foot out and sighed as she stretched her foot In cool air before returning it to the warmth.

"We never water down the ale. I'm starting a bakery and some spirits from my homeland. It will be a propper Inn as soon as I can make it one." Sya said cheerfully as she brushed a hand over her shoulder to check no hair had fallen out of place as drying it could be a pain. She however loved it too much to cut it short, one thing she had kept regardless how bad it got.

"What's your trade Ashe? By name I mean you weave fire. Embers?…but that's impossible even for us?" Sya asked with a curious look, they both were in business and it paid not to tread on the toes of others.
Ashe's molten eyes glinted with amusement as Sya mentioned her business plans, a smile curling at the edges of their lips.

"A bakery? In a town like this?" they mused, their tone approving. "Smart. People always need to eat, and with more of us arriving every day, you’ll have no shortage of customers. There’s good money to be made in that."
When Sya asked about their trade, Ashe’s gaze softened, and they lifted a hand once more. A small flicker of fire danced across their fingertips before slowly forming into a thin, shimmering strand of flame. It twisted and coiled like a delicate ribbon before Ashe extended it towards Sya, offering it to her. The flame, the width of her wrist, pulsated gently with warmth.

"I weave fire, yes. It’s not just embers either. My power lets me create clothes, sculptures, and more out of pure flame." They nodded towards the glowing strand. "Take it. Won’t burn you, not like this. Consider it a gift, and proof of concept for what I shall do for this town. ‘Know that you’re my first customer."

Ashe chuckled softly at Sya’s last question, a low rumble that echoed through the heated water. "The blight…" they continued, their voice carrying a hint of dark humour, "it has a way of making the impossible possible. You’d be surprised at what it unlocks in some of us."

"Dawn Haven is… it gave me a fresh start too. I ended up in some bad places… I'm very thankful to multiple people but I also think that.." Sya paused thoughtfully and turned a little more serious, Dawn Haven was a sanctuary but that sanctuary was still a town, and things like the guards' slow response was a thing that concerned Sya.

”...Winter time will not be easy here. We will have to work together. You might be very helpful however many will claim not to be so." Sya thoughtfully and shifted to tread water slightly as she found a more comfortable spot.

"Hmm.. from what's left of your accent…Lunaris… maybe the borders? Perhaps the Mountain passes?" Sya said with an exaggerated thinking posture making lighter topics having found herself a better place to recline into the gloriously soothing waters.

Ashe listened quietly as Sya spoke, their expression thoughtful. When she finished, they offered her a nod of understanding. "Keep your chin up, Sya. Some of us…" they paused, their voice taking on a solemn edge, "...well, some of us had to burn and die to become what we are now. Not saying you haven’t suffered, all I’m saying is that it could’ve been worse. Way worse. It’s the same for all of our kin."

At the mention of winter, Ashe let out a low, amused chuckle, their eyes gleaming with an inner fire. "Winter?" they grinned, raising an eyebrow. "What can the cold do to someone like me? I think I’ll manage just fine." With a playful wink, they added, "In fact, I expect business will bloom when the snow starts falling."

As Sya speculated about their origin, Ashe’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. "You figured out my accent?" they asked, clearly impressed. "The blight took almost everything of who I was before and shaped me into this. I wasn’t even sure any of that remained."

They paused, their expression softening as they continued, "But you’re not wrong. I’ve been from one end of the world to the other, even before the blight. Never really belonged anywhere... until now, maybe."

Sya gave a solemn nod of understanding, much as some tried only a blightborn could mentally understand how it felt to die, to wake up alive, changed by forces beyond understanding that decided you are no longer dead. "My village was infected, the keep burned, I was poisoned, starved. I woke up in the ruins. We all had our trials but more importantly we made it.” Sya let a tear drop into the water, it hurt but felt like she owed honesty to another of her kind.

"Clothes…have you thought… sheets…heated rugs… no cold feet, i do believe i can find several uses for such wondrous innovation. The heat could even…stay, if… room was…" Sya took the strand and placed it carefully and safely where she could collect it when she left. She was seeing about 4 different ways the Eye Of the Beholder could use it. "I so believe we can make much gold together, Ashe" Sya grinned a little too much like a dragon that discovered a way to expand its hoard but all Blightborn where a little broken, crazy or had odd quirks of personality.

"I'm from the old borderlands. My father was Lunarian by birth. I grew up more under Auralia, technically, we were mixed people and I meet almost everyone who enters town these days." Sya spoke more naturally, more openly and very much Sya the woman than Sya the Innkeeper.

"First pint is on the Eye. After that, I'm sure you'll do Well and maybe enjoy my better wine. Sya is what everyone knows me as, but my full name is Syraeia Leela ” Sya said confidently with the level of pride one would expect of someone who worked for their own business. Ownership was a little tricky but Sya ran day to day affairs. Her full name, well they had given theirs, it was only respectful.

It was nice just being able to talk to someone who was not afraid at all.
Ashe listened intently, the fire within them flickering softly as Sya opened up about her own trials. They offered a respectful nod of solidarity when she finished, a glint of warmth in their otherwise smouldering eyes.

"I’d already considered what I could craft and sell before deciding to come to Dawnhaven. Heated rugs, insulated cloaks, blankets, clothes of any kind, sculptures and the list can go on," Ashe mused, the faintest curl of a smile forming at the edge of their lips. "I can see the demand already rising once the cold months roll in."

As Sya mentioned making money together, Ashe chuckled softly, shaking their head with a playful but knowing glance. "Oh, I’ll make a lot of gold, no doubt about that." Their gaze met Sya’s, firm but not unfriendly. "But I’m running my own business. You’re more than welcome to buy from me—with a 15% discount if you help spread the word about the shop. Two items for your inn, free of charge, once the store is open." The smile lingered, a hint of challenge in it.

When Sya shared more about her background, Ashe simply nodded, their expression softening just a bit as they acknowledged her story. "I understand," was all they said, keeping their own history locked behind a calm exterior.
At the mention of a drink, Ashe’s grin widened, and they let out a low chuckle. "I don’t drink, though. Let’s just say, alcohol and fire… don’t mix too well." Their tone took on a slightly amused edge as they added, "Learned that the hard way when I almost incinerated someone. I’ve kept my distance from it since."

Sya took the challenge and gave a smile, she knew what they meant and how they were thinking. She was new to business but a fast learner. "2 free, discount and a present for my girlfriend before they hit the main market as she is… Interesting. And I'll tell everyone exactly why they wake up snug, warm and I keep placing your catalogues in the guest parlour. Naturally you'd let everyone know where to get the best meal cake and ale in town or rent a room when winter's chill bites as well as some advertising posters or so." Sya replied with a firm but friendly challenge and getting a present for Olivia before everyone else was one thing that money could not buy. Well buy yet. Winter with passively heating blankets and so… She would be able to keep her rooms very full over the coldest months of winter.

"A shared arrangement of advertising of our services." Sya said, she was not the best at this but she could see an opportunity and this was a chance to get access to a commodity that no other Inn had.
They could keep their own business independently and act In a way that made sure they both made plenty of money.

"I'm definitely not selling you any of my Shine of Selene… by time it will be at least 5 to 7 tenths alcohol if I can get the right materials and a good still." Sya said, she aimed to produce good stuff and if it could knock Ivor down with how much kick it had, it was not done right.

Ashe raised an eyebrow at Sya’s counteroffer, the corner of their mouth twitching into a half-smile. "A present for your girlfriend, huh?" they mused, tapping a finger thoughtfully on the surface of the water. "I could make something custom for her. A special order, tailored to what she might like." Their voice dropped to a more serious tone, but with a playful glint still in their eyes. "But not free. I’ll give you a 90% discount, though. Sound fair?"
Ashe leaned back slightly, arms resting on the edge of the hot spring, clearly considering the rest of Sya’s proposal.

"Alright, I agree to your arrangement. Advertising for advertising—mutually beneficial. You’ll get your posters and flyers in the shop, and I’ll make sure anyone who comes in cold knows where they can get a hot meal or warm ale." They smirked. "But I’ll want a 30% discount on any food purchases I make at your inn. And..." they paused, their fiery eyes locking onto Sya’s. "I get the right to come in and… absorb some energy from your most rowdy customers. Just a little heat off the top—no harm done."

Ashe’s smile widened as they waited for Sya’s response, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth negotiation. "We both make gold, you get to keep your inn full during the winter and there won’t be any troublemakers to scare off the clientele.. Seems like a good deal to me."

It had been a while since Sya had had a real challenge and enjoyed the back and forth. Something about her brighted nature enjoyed the challenge, the direct and spontaneous sudden event. She had a firm expression and she thought more inexperienced right now one day would likely be a formidable business woman if she had the chance.

"A scarf and some leather gloves for the coming Winter. She is blightborn, but we enjoy comfort and I want to make her happy here. Scarf in the colours of Dunatal and can you sew the outline of lips subtlety into the back of the right glove, Lunarian second city. 90% I believe is acceptable." Sya said with a grin, she would get Olivia something even the Lady did not have yet.

Sya gave him a curious look at wanting to feed her customers' more heightened emotions, Blight born needed to feed but they tended to have to find ways to ensure that they were not drinking someone's blood in the street. That was just nasty… "I can do 30% off the meal for the vast majority of what I serve, the imported delicacies, I'm too gouged by caravans to take a cut on. If business does well I can extend that discount. I'm still building up and can offer more once I establish myself better." Sya said plainly and fairly, Caravan Masters charged just to travel to Dawnhaven and the charge for doing so under guard with luxury goods was even higher. Maybe Dawn Haven could arrange its own security The Royal Guard seemed bored.

"If you're subtle, I want no harm done… any harm and I decline that instantly. The Prince and others have trusted me, and I take them seriously and earnestly. I do understand the need for feeding very personally. I'm Mistress and responsibility is mine even if they only tolerate me as a tamer member kin who provides useful services." Bigots, not everyone here liked blight born and not everyone needed to know that blightborn fed quietly… passively.. in the background. There are topics that people did not discuss much in mixed company.

Sya did not mean offence, just that she was charged with a duty, trusted and given so would not betray it. To allow someone to feed off top of the most heated emotions was… acceptable and rather knew what was going on than it happened behind her back… She was a little territorial and considered her domain and place where she was and those under the roof her own to protect.

Sya moved and moved to float slightly enjoying the feeling as she found a deeper spot, not that deep given her size admittedly. "If I knew a bath could be this Interesting, I'd come far more often." The Aurlian in Sya did not mind being seen as she had moved to float and stretch out her back and neck muscles in healing waters, she had scars, marks of passion on her body and neck and that was no shame. Even if her girlfriend had a possessive and darker side, all blightborn had their quirks.
"I have not felt this good in months or perhaps years." Sya admitted taking a lighter line, maybe the temple…the heat… something in this place was good for her and truly making her forget the pains she had accumulated.

Ashe tilted their head slightly, hands moving in a gentle, absentminded pattern, as if weaving invisible threads in the air. Their fingers danced in practised motions, mentally assembling the scarf and gloves Sya requested. After a moment, they lowered their hands and offered a small smile.

"A scarf in the colours of Dunatal and lips on the right glove... I can do that, but"—they paused for effect—"the color change will increase the cost slightly. Different hues require specific chemicals to manipulate the fire into non-traditional shades. It’s not impossible, but it will push the price up a bit, even with the 90% discount." Ashe's gaze softened, the brief mention of the intricate work a point of pride for them.

They leaned back slightly, their tone becoming more deliberate as they addressed the next concern. "As for the energy... I don’t need much, just a moment in their presence. My fire will consume only the chaotic energy—the frustration, anger, or excitement. No harm comes to them. In fact," Ashe's eyes glimmered with a mischievous spark, "most patrons will just feel a little tired afterward, and tired people usually need a warm bed to sleep in. Perfect for business, wouldn't you say?"

Ashe's gaze wandered briefly around the bathhouse, then back to Sya. "I've always found bathhouses like this perfect places to conduct business. The warmth loosens the body, and the relaxed atmosphere helps loosen the mind. People make more honest deals when they’re not guarded."

Ashe shifted slightly in the water, letting the heat soak into their own weary body. They nodded in agreement, a relaxed sigh escaping their lips as they spoke.
"I know the feeling. After the long road, I can feel my muscles finally unwinding.”
Sya nodded, it was worth such a price she wanted to have something special for her partner, something that was a sign of her devotion. Sya wanted to do it right. ”Properly made craftsmanship rather than half hearted one. Good work." Extra cost would be something she could tolerate, her savings would be dented but Sya wanted to do it right.

Sya listened to him, only chaotic energy, they understood the blightborn on a much deeper level than she did, she was cautious but it made sense to be so. Sya would keep her rather large eye on everyone, them and make sure the terms were held to and accurate. "I can agree… for now. We will see how things go.." Sya said, she would see if they were correct and if that chaotic energy would be something that less of would be better.

"Quiet customers who are not fighting do not hurt though, the guards are a little slower. The Royal guard staying has got me out of trouble faster”. Sya admitted, yeah relaxed water made you honest but also made things simpler, things made far more sense. Sya could forget her endless to do lists. "A very long road, and hopefully not the end yet. There's a big announcement at 10… Alas I could stay here all day but if Prince wants to ask the whole town it's likely important.
I have a … Bad feeling… I'm not sure why. The Royal guards were preparing like they were going to war… Full plate."

Sya got so much Gossip and news from her job and where she lived, an Innkeeper was never uninformed. "Lord Coswain at least has been… diplomatic. Market square, Information Is power so they say." Sya said casually as she luxuriated In the water, the novelty of not having anything to do and complete relaxation. She hinted he should likely attend, it did not hurt to be seen at the gathering.

"I promise, no one will be touched unless they’re already causing trouble. Every inn has its share of those, especially after a few too many drinks." They gave her a knowing glance. "And I wouldn’t want to anger the guards either. That would be bad for business."

At the mention of the announcement, Ashe raised an eyebrow, looking a little intrigued. "An announcement? Interesting... I have a meeting with the Prince anyway, so I’ll be there regardless. Plate armor on the guards, though…" They mused for a moment. "That could mean a lot of things, not just war. The blight could be advancing faster than expected. Not that it would affect us… too much."

Ashe stretched their arms, feeling the weight of the conversation. "But still, always better to be prepared."
Ashe nodded in agreement with a thoughtful expression.
"You're right, Sya. Information is power, no doubt. Who knows, maybe in the future, we can work out another arrangement where prime information comes to me first. That might prove quite valuable." They offered a small smile, the kind that hinted at opportunities yet to be explored.

With that, Ashe slowly rose from the water, droplets of steam evaporating as they moved. "I’ll take my leave now. Got to make sure I’m ready for that announcement."
They started walking toward the door, but just as they reached it, Ashe glanced back with a final, sly smile. "Pleasure doing business with you, Syraeia Leela."
With those parting words, they stepped out, leaving only the warmth of their presence behind.

_{Collab with @PrinceAlexus}

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It was a short time after the Prince left the temple that Tia found herself hiding under the covers of her bed, eyes wide, cheeks burning, as she played their interaction over again in her mind.

Why had she touched him??? Temporary insanity? Overpowering intrusive thoughts? And she’d cried in front of him. How, in the name of the burning sun, was he ever supposed to trust her to competently do her job?

Tia sank deeper into the mattress, her hand tracing up to where he’d showed her. Her fingers pressed between her ribs again - where she was meant to drive a dagger on him. She pulled her hand away like it burned her. She swallowed. Squeezing her eyes shut, Tia wiped at the ghosts of tear stains on her face. She allowed herself another few moments of wallowing.

Then she forced herself to emerge from under the blankets and get to work.

Caring for the temple was familiar, even if the structure itself was new. She donned a thin robe over her oversized sleeping robes to clean out the soot and ash from the brazier, and added fresh wood to feed it through the new day. Then she cleaned, and changed into fresh clothes for the day complete with a scarf, blue and gold-embroidered, to cover her scar (her scarf from yesterday was long gone - not only had she left it in Orion’s home, but it had been positively coated in blood). She reached for her hair-needles to pin up her long, pale hair, but drew her eyebrows together when she couldn’t find them. She only had a set of smaller ones, too little to hold all of it back. Instead of her usual bun, she settled on only pulling the top layer of her hair back into a smaller up-do, the rest of it hanging thick down her back.

Then she lit incense through the temple, whispered daily blessings, and collected her letter to deliver to Pleiades. She hoped the High Priest would have a response soon for her - and she could remove at least a single layer of her subterfuge here.

Tia stepped out of the back entrance to the temple, with one last chore on her list: to remove the sign she and Pleiades had created last night. Whatever contaminants had been in the water last night would be gone by now. It was her first full day to be spent in Dawnhaven - she wanted to ensure that her temple, the springs attached to them, whatever sanctuary Aelios could provide, was open and welcoming to all.

Voices rose to meet her at the top of the stairs. It seemed that some had already taken to the springs, even so early in the morning. Her eyebrows pulled together. Had they not seen the sign?

…Apparently not. Because when Tia made her way to the spot where they had staked it into the ground, there was nothing but a lantern and a small hole in the dirt filling with snow. She paused, looking around. Had someone… taken it? Tia couldn’t imagine why, not when it was just parchment and a broken broom handle.

Tia spun in place, looking for any trace of it. But it was nowhere to be seen. This was surely on the bottom of the list of priorities she had to deal with. Perplexed, Tia sighed.

Well, one less thing to clean up, she supposed. She turned, to head back into the temple –

Only to stop, looking back over her shoulder as the voices grew to a commotion.

In the end it seemed she did have another chore before heading into the town: helping an ailing blight-born woman into the temple. Hands glowing, her heartrate spiking, she, along with two other women (was… was one of them a cyclops?), helped the cunicular patient into a spare bed in the warmth of the temple.

It wasn’t yet ten in the morning, and already Tia found herself exhausted by the day, her barely-recovered stores of magic depleting once again.

This was how Tia greeted Dawnhaven on her first full day in the settlement, letter in hand as she went to deliver it to Pleiades and then report for the town meeting.

Flynn strode through the dimly lit gravel streets of Dawnhaven, his thoughts churning with a list of concerns he needed to address with Orion. The events of the past night and this morning had brought more complications than he had anticipated, and he was keen to seek his advisor’s counsel. Orion’s wisdom had always been a guiding force, and Flynn was eager to hear his thoughts on everything that had transpired.

Reaching Orion’s door, Flynn knocked and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the conversation to come. There was much to discuss, and little time to waste.

The sound of Flynn’s knock echoed through the dimly lit room, each rap on the door resonating with a sense of urgency that gave pause to Orion’s actions. The faint glow of the moon filtered through the window, casting long shadows on the walls that seemed to dance with the flickering candlelight. Orion, seated at his desk, looked up from the documents he was reviewing, his eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge the gravity of the situation. The urgency in the knock was unmistakable, a clear signal that the prince- for who else could it be? Willis didn’t seem like a knocker-required immediate counsel. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever news Flynn might bring, his mind already racing through possible scenarios, all of them dealing with the fledgling blightborn in his temporary care.

Orion rose from his chair, his movements swift and purposeful as he made his way to the door, the wooden floor creaking softly under his weight. He opened it to reveal Flynn, whose expression was one of concern. Stress. It had to be that.

“Your Highness,” the blightborn greeted, his tone respectful yet familiar, a delicate balance he had perfected over his time of service to the crown. “What troubles you this evening?” He gestured to a chair, inviting Flynn to sit and discuss the matters at hand, his own mind already preparing for the weighty conversation that was sure to follow.

Flynn stepped into Orion’s home, his expression grave as he met his blightborn advisor’s red eyes. “I’m afraid that much troubles me, Orion,” he began, his voice low and measured. “We have a town meeting to lead in an hour, and there’s much we need to discuss beforehand. I apologize for the short notice, but the urgency cannot be overstated.”

Taking the offered seat, Flynn exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’ve just received some terrible news—news that was revealed to me only yesterday.” He paused, the weight of the information heavy in the air. “The Queen of Lunaris is dead, and she has been for quite some time. It appears the King has tightly controlled this information, deliberately keeping it from becoming widespread news.”

Flynn leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. “And if that wasn’t enough, the King is already married to another woman, one who is rumored to be with child.” He shook his head, the disbelief still fresh. "This news is grim and could be a sign of the King's possible ulterior motives. According to Octavia, the late Queen was well-loved, and this will likely upset many. We must carefully decide how to present it to the town. We need to be cautious, but also transparent. The people deserve to know the truth, but we cannot afford to provoke the wrong response."

His gaze hardened as he added, “Orion, I must admit—I do not trust the King of Lunaris. There’s something about all of this that feels off, as if he has ulterior motives that we’re not yet privy to. I fear he may be using this secrecy to further some agenda, one that could put us all at risk.”

Flynn’s grave expression and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air, each syllable sinking into the room like a stone dropped into a still pond. The dim light from the moon cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the somber atmosphere that seemed to wrap around them like a shroud. The news of the Queen’s death and the King’s secrecy was a bombshell, shattering the fragile peace that had barely held them together. Orion clenched his fists briefly, leaning against the nearby wall with crossed arms as his mind deliberated their options.

“This news is indeed troubling,” the blightborn finally spoke. “The secrecy surrounding the Queen’s death and the King’s swift remarriage are highly suspicious. We must tread carefully there.” His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned Flynn’s face for any additional clues, his mind already piecing together the potential ramifications. Nonetheless, he leaned forward slightly, his posture conveying his readiness to tackle the issue head-on.

“I can draft a statement for the town meeting, or read over what you have already. We should also consider reaching out to any allies you can trust to gauge their reactions and gather more information about the King’s actions. This will help us anticipate any further moves he might make.”

Flynn nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair as he took out the folded piece of parchment containing the speech he had written earlier that morning. “I wrote this earlier today. And that’s another issue—our allies.” He sighed, unfolding the paper and placing it on the table for Orion to read over. “I met with the Lady of Durnatell this morning—the one I summoned for assistance with supplies.”

His gaze met Orion’s, his expression heavy with the weight of the revelation. “She’s been turned into a blight-born,” he said, letting the words linger in the air, knowing Orion would grasp the full implications. “The King must not know yet. If he does, he’ll surely have her head for it, and he’ll put someone else in charge of Durnatell.” Flynn shook his head, his frustration palpable. “She’s offered to live here, as if it were a gift to us. Yet I know she needs to remain out of sight from the King. She needs protection.”

Flynn’s expression hardened as he continued. “But she’s resistant to questioning. Tried to deny the interview we conduct with all blight-born. We will have to deal with that at a later time, but… we need Durnatell’s supply trade. I can’t afford to push her too hard. We’re walking a fine line here.”

“Hmm…this does complicate things significantly,” Orion said, walking over to pick up and skim over the parchment paper containing the prince’s speech. “Her resistance to questioning is troubling, but we cannot afford to alienate her either.” He paused, giving his mind time to race through potential strategies and responses. “Perhaps I could speak with this Lady directly,” Orion suggested, his tone thoughtful. “As a fellow Blight-Born, I might be able to offer her a perspective that she can relate to. It could help build trust and encourage her to cooperate.”

While Flynn reflected on this idea, Orion’s red eyes scanned the page in his hands as he took a seat, absorbing the prince’s carefully chosen words. The flickering candlelight on the table cast a warm glow on the parchment, illuminating the inked letters with a soft, golden hue that seemed to breathe life into the words. The blightborn’s mind continued to churn, considering the implications of each sentence, each phrase, as if they were pieces of a complex puzzle. He knew that their approach had to be both strategic and empathetic, a delicate dance of diplomacy and understanding that could not afford a single misstep. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of the parchment, the sound only coming to an end once he was finished with his reading, leaving a heavy stillness in its wake.

Flynn considered his advisor’s suggestion as Orion read over the speech, nodding in agreement. “Yes, let’s arrange that. Given how the Lunarians have treated the blight-born, it’s understandable she might be distrustful of humans.”

Orion found the prince’s words to be thoughtful and well-crafted, reflecting a growing maturity in his leadership that filled him with a quiet sense of pride. He glanced up at Flynn, a small smile playing on his lips, the kind that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. His eyes conveyed a sense of approval and respect, a silent acknowledgment of the prince’s progress. “I must say, your writing has improved significantly. You’ve come a long way,” he remarked, his tone warm and encouraging.

Flynn’s lips curved into a genuine smile at Orion’s compliment, a brief but heartfelt moment of pride flashing in his eyes. “I owe much of that to your guidance over the last two months. Thank you.” he said, his voice warm with appreciation and his gaze held Orion’s, a silent acknowledgment of the advisor’s significant role.

Flynn's smile lingered for a moment before becoming serious once more. "Speaking of your guidance..." he began, his tone shifting slightly, "how was it with Willis last night?" There was a hint of insinuation in his words, suggesting that he knew Orion had likely needed to guide Willis to behave. "And where is he now?"

Orion’s eyes met Flynn’s, a hint of a strained smile playing on his lips.

“Willis is… a handful, to say the least,” Orion replied, his tone light but honest. “Last night was a test of patience, but we managed. We were together last at the blacksmith’s, getting his equipment repaired. But then we parted ways so he could take a look at the post office.” He shook his head, the hint of a smile from before making a full appearance, a rare moment of genuine amusement breaking through his usual stoicism. “Considering it still stands, I assume that the errand went as well as it could have.”

Flynn listened to Orion's account, nodding along at the mention of Willis’s antics. As Orion mentioned the post office, Flynn's expression shifted as realized he had nearly forgotten to mention what had happened with Pleiades.

"Actually, that’s another thing I need to tell you about.” Flynn said, his tone turning more serious. “Willis won’t be working at the post office. There was an incident with Pleiades earlier." He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I went to tell Pleiades that he would have a new employee, but Willis got there before I did and Pleiades refused to have him work there. He said Willis is a danger and he’s not wrong…” He sighed and shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know what happened between them, but I… let my emotions get the better of me.”

Flynn hesitated, his discomfort evident. “Octavia told me she was…cuddling with Pleiades in her bed yesterday. And she fell asleep with him in her bed.” Flynn’s brows furrowed as he glared down at the table, conjuring up images of Pleiades in his wife's bed while Flynn himself had barely been allowed in her room. “I suppose she felt guilty and wanted to tell me, and both her and Pleiades say nothing happened, but…” He looked directly at Orion, his unease clear in his eyes. “Truth be told, it... made me extremely uncomfortable." Flynn's voice tightened slightly, “I don’t know what to make of it… Maybe this is normal behavior for Lunarians?”

Orion did his best to hide his surprise, feeling a surge of empathy and concern tug at his undead heart. The prince’s vulnerability and the personal nature of his concerns were clear; each word was a window into the struggles he was experiencing. Orion thought carefully about how to offer both support and practical advice. He knew that Flynn needed more than just a strategic plan at this moment—he needed reassurance. After all, his role was not just to advise but to be a pillar of strength for the prince in these trying times. Resolving to be the steadfast support Flynn needed, Orion prepared himself to help navigate through the challenges ahead.

“I understand your…discomfort,” Orion began, his voice steady and reassuring. “As for Lunarian costumes, they can be quite different from ours, but that doesn’t mean we should dismiss your feelings.” He hesitated here, not out of insecurity but to really think over what he wanted to say to his charge before saying it.

“Regarding Willis, I think we need to find a suitable role for him that keeps him occupied and out of trouble. Give him…tasks that perhaps allow him to use his skills, not just in flying but other things,” Orion suggested. “As for Pleiades and Octavia….” He looked away for a moment, the heaviness of his own memories pressing down on him before he met the prince’s eyes again. “My wife and I….before our separation…well…” He sighs, the pain of his past still a fresh wound.

This was still difficult for him to mull over. His family, the memories of what once was and what could never be again, haunted him.

“Honesty and openness go a long way,” Orion began, his voice gentle yet firm, each word chosen with care, “When you have a good time, you should express how you feel to the princess, without accusation. Seek to understand her perspective as well.” A smile, a sadder one this time, graced Orion’s lips, a fleeting glimpse into the sorrow that lingered in his own heart.

“This is no rejection on her part. I promise you.”

Flynn listened intently to Orion’s words, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. He appreciated the guidance, but it didn’t erase the sting of Octavia’s earlier words. He looked away, frowning slightly as he recalled their last conversation.

“Octavia said she would have rather died than come to Dawnhaven,” Flynn admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Hearing that from her…it angered me. I know she’s struggling with all of this, but I’m trying to save our lives. I’m struggling too.” He sighed, trying to release the flash of anger that built up in his chest again. “Maybe I was too harsh with her when we last spoke. I acted out of anger, not understanding.” He paused, his thoughts drifting to his father, a man who had never hesitated to punish harshly for even the slightest of grievances. “Still, I know my father would have handled it far worse. He never had patience for anyone who questioned his decisions. At least I didn’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the thoughts of his father. “I don’t want to become my father.”

He turned back to Orion, his expression softening slightly. “I’ll try to reach out to her again, to connect and see things from her perspective. I need to keep my emotions in check.” Flynn took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of resolve amidst his uncertainty. If anything, at least Orion had made him feel slightly better about the entire situation.

Reaching for the speech he had written earlier, Flynn folded it carefully and tucked it into his pocket. “Thank you, Orion, for your assistance and your advice, as always. I need to see if Octavia is back at the house before our meeting.” He rose from his seat, giving Orion a grateful nod. “I must take my leave, but please join me on stage for the town meeting. The guards are putting it together now.”

“Anytime, of course,” Orion said, giving a sincere smile. He rose from his seat with the same fluid grace as the prince, walking to the door and opening it for his guest out of courtesy.

With that, Flynn made his way to the door, his mind already racing with thoughts of what he would say to Octavia, determined to approach the situation with more patience and understanding this time.

---

_{Mentions: Octavia, Pleiades @The Savant, Willis @BOOM, Olivia @amorphical}

Sya was unwilling to leave the hot spring as she dressed, finding her clothes stacked in her previous neat pile and exactly as before. She was doing up her boots as a bell tolled warning of the time and the coming hour. She had managed to tie her hair back into her French braid style with a little effort, it was easier when Olivia helped her and Sya was out of practice with that style. One try later Sya had got it looking respectable after bungling it up once.

Ashe had been interesting to say the least, new business, Becky, opportunities, bakery, things were looking good. She had such a good morning and now she had to deal with all the chaos, all the drama and whatever this announcement was.

Walking out with a bounce the blightborn cyclops headed into the crowd instantly looking a little more trepidation seeing the stage, soldiers in gleaming plate armour in the colours of Lunaris and Aurialia. This was not a normal announcement, something confirmed by Sya’s gut feeling this morning felt justified. looking around for anyone she knew, Sunni, her customers, anyone familiar.

It would be noted if she did not attend though. Sya found a quiet spot and the small woman looked around, defiantly without hiding her eye looking around. People would have to get used to the new Sya.

Redacted