As Flynn made his way back home, his thoughts whirled with possible scenarios for his next conversation with Amaya. He imagined different ways to approach her, each one feeling more uncertain than the last. Ever since they had received the letter about her mother’s passing, he had been at a complete loss. His attempts to comfort her had felt awkward, and she had recoiled from any affection he tried to offer. The look in her beautiful blue eyes when he tried to embrace her had been venomous. Now, the memory of her coldness weighed heavily on him, making him nervous to address her again, especially considering that he had planned an entire town meeting without considering her feelings about it beforehand. Should he apologize outright? Or should he try to explain his perspective and hope she understood?

The tension in his chest tightened with each step, the knot of anxiety growing as he considered the best way to mend the rift between them. A wave of nerves washed over him, and his mind raced with uncertainty about how to smooth things over. Every possible conversation with her felt like walking a tightrope, and he could only hope that his words, however clumsy, might help bridge the gap between them.

When Flynn finally reached his home, he hesitated at the door, listening for any sound inside. The house was quiet, but that didn’t mean much. Steeling himself, he called out, “Amaya?” His voice echoed softly in the silence, and he waited, holding his breath, for any sign of her presence.

Amaya froze where she sat at her vanity upstairs. Her heart rate spiked at the sound of Flynn’s voice. Hands balled into fists in her lap, Amaya evaluated her reflection - her makeup was once again impeccable, her hair neat and curling over her shoulder. The only sign she’d been crying was the slight puffiness of her eyes. And if her nose was a little pink, well, one could simply blame the chill in the air. Amaya covered her small box of rouge and wiped her stained fingers on her nearby handkerchief.

Looking into her own pale eyes, Amaya took a slow breath in. And the mask was in place once again.

She stood and drifted out of her room with silent steps. She stopped at the top of the stairs, a delicate hand placed on the wooden banister. And when she looked down, there he was - the Prince of Aurelia. She held the air in her lungs, fighting against the way her breath hitched, the way another sob tried to rip itself out of her body.

She would not cry in front of him. When she was sure her voice wouldn’t break, she spoke.

“Don’t look so fearful, Husband.” The title burned like bile in her throat, but her voice was airy and unbothered. “It’s your house after all.” His house, his town, his orders, his decisions. Anger was a tight, coiled thing wrapped around her heart, but her expression remained cool. “No need to tread lightly.”

Flynn’s breath caught when Amaya appeared at the top of the stairs. Despite everything that had happened, she looked stunning—poised and put together in a way that made him feel… a bit uneasy, if he was honest. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder, perfectly arranged, and her skin, rich and warm, only made the pale blue of her eyes seem sharper and more piercing under the candle lighting of their home. She was undeniably regal and looked every bit the queen she was destined to become.

Despite taking a moment to appreciate her beauty, he was surprised to see her so composed, especially after how devastated she had been upon receiving the news of her mother's death—likely murder. Yet here she was, looking every bit the royal, her emotions hidden beneath a flawless exterior. Flynn, the Prince of Aurelia—the golden child—knew the game all too well. Royals often wore masks to hide their truths. Nonetheless, Flynn could feel the weight in her words when she referred to the house as “his.” The deliberate emphasis didn’t escape him, and it only deepened his discomfort.

Clearing his throat, he kept her gaze, his emerald eyes meeting hers as he entered further into the home but stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Amaya…” His voice came out soft, uncertain. He swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to speak properly. “Are you... okay?” A small circle of ice began spreading over the banister beneath her hand.

The question felt hollow, but it was the best he could manage in the moment. ‘Idiot… Of course she isn’t okay!’ He thought, his heart beginning to race. "I—uh… I also wanted to talk to you about the town meeting, if that’s okay?" he said, awkwardly shifting his weight as he waited for her response and pondered why the hell this small woman made him so nervous.

Amaya stared down at him. Her fingers twitched on the banister, her magic leaking unnoticed from her skin. She couldn’t move. If she did, then the thin layer of calm she’d managed to fold over herself would shatter, and her emotions would be a storm made real. She couldn’t speak - all she wanted to do was scream, and wail, and be held.

She wanted her mother.

But instead she had him, a man who had the gall to be uncertain after making all the choices for himself.

“What is there to discuss that hasn’t already been decided?”

Flynn could feel it, the shift in the air around them—a subtle pulse, almost imperceptible to most, but unmistakable to him. The veil between the physical and the magical wavered as Amaya’s magic threatened to implode on itself, raw and uncontained. Though Flynn wasn’t highly skilled in magic himself, his training had drilled into him the importance of sensing its presence, particularly Lunarian magic. Amaya wasn’t stable, no matter how poised she appeared. She wasn’t okay, not even close.

His heart clenched as he stood frozen for a moment, seeing her at the top of the stairs, so composed yet so fragile beneath that exterior. That’s when he noticed the ice forming over the banister. He frowned, unsure if he should address it after how she had reacted to him earlier that day. Slowly, he decided to ascend the stairs to meet her at the top, each step heavy with caution, not wanting to shatter her already fraying composure. Amaya’s breath stilled in her chest as he approached.

When he reached a few steps below her, Flynn reached into his pocket, pulling out the folded parchment he had spent the morning laboring over. His emerald green eyes held hers as he held it out to her. “I wanted to ask you,” he began, “if you’d like to speak during the town meeting? I didn’t know your mother well, and I... I don’t think it would be right for only me to speak about her in front of the people of Lunaris. It would mean more coming from you.” His voice remained calm and steady as he continued, “But I understand if you don’t want to. I can handle it, if you prefer.”

Flynn extended the parchment a little closer to her. “I’ve written something for the speech. If you’d like, you can read it, or tell me your thoughts.”

Amaya stared at the parchment like it was a viper. It hung in the air, a pitiful olive branch between them, and Amaya wanted to take it to the nearest candle and turn it to ash. Her eyes flicked back up to Flynn to snap more venom at him, but -

Ice met the sea. There was nothing sharp in his green eyes to cut herself against, no coldness, no fight, just… patience. Sadness. A vastness and depth that would swallow Amaya up, if she let it.

She pulled in a silent breath, fighting to keep her careful mask in place. Then she took the parchment with her free hand. Sliding it open with her thumb, her eyes moved over the Prince’s words. As Amaya took the paper, Flynn’s eyes darted back to the banister freezing underneath her palm.

Her hands tightened as she read, her breath becoming shallow. With each word the thick coil of her emotions tightened around her heart, closed her throat. Something burned hot behind her eyes. This was her mother’s eulogy. She was gone, had been gone for weeks and Amaya hadn’t known and she was never going to see her again -

A sharp crack cut through the air, something snapping under Amaya’s hand. She gasped, flinching away. She blinked rapidly, her breath coming in shaking spurts as she looked for the source of the noise.

The banister. A deep crack like a bolt of lightning the length of her hand marred the dark wood. Ice crystals painted a geometric design around it, the wood so severely chilled that it emitted a soft cascade of fog.

Flynn tensed as the banister finally cracked under the pressure of Amaya’s magic. His heart skipped a beat, and his hand shot out instinctively when she flinched, ready to steady her if she were to lose her balance. Amaya could only stare at the broken wood with wide eyes, lips parted. A tear rolled down her cheek.

She hadn’t even noticed she was calling that much magic. How had she not noticed?

“Are you hurt?” Flynn's voice was gentle but urgent as his eyes darted to her hand. She didn’t seem to hear him. His concern was palpable as he leaned a bit closer, scanning her arm, palm and fingers carefully. Internally, he resisted the urge to take her hand into his to further investigate. Seeing no visible harm, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Once assured she was fine, Flynn’s gaze shifted back to her face, his worry still present but accompanied by a faint, warm smile. “Well,” he started, glancing briefly at the cracked banister, “I hated the way these stairs looked anyway. I think it looks better this way.”

She looked up at Flynn, for the first time unguarded. Her face was a canvas of heartbreak, and helplessness, and fear. Then, before her grief could finish clawing its way back up her throat, Amaya remembered herself.

She looked back at the now crinkled parchment like she could hide in it, fighting to control her breathing. She wasn’t reading anymore - she couldn’t bear to. But still she moved her eyes over the words that blurred together in her vision. Her hand wiped at her cheek in a swift motion. Then it hid in the folds of her dress, fist tight as she tried to pull every thread of her magic back into the tangled mess that was her heart.

When she was certain her mask was back in place, she looked up again. She couldn’t quite manage to meet his eyes. But her spine was straight. No fresh tears spilled. It would do.

“Remove the fourth and fifth sentences from the second paragraph,” she said, holding the parchment back out to him. Her voice was still too tight. She tried to swallow. The sentences in question were about… well, her. Her mother’s love for her. Amaya didn’t think she could stand to hear him say those words aloud - either she’d start sobbing or she’d kill him. “I’ll speak where you’ve indicated.”

Flynn took the parchment from Amaya's hand, his fingers brushing lightly against hers as he scanned the lines she had pointed out. His frown deepened and he didn’t bother hiding the disappointment on his face. He read over the sentences again and a quiet, defeated sigh escaped him.

He remained silent for a few moments, the weight of what he’d written and what she wanted removed settling uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t want to take them out. The words were true, and he wanted the town to hear them, to know that even a stranger could see how much the Queen had loved her daughter. It felt wrong to erase such sentiments, but arguing with her now could only end badly, especially when her magic was so out of control. His mind flashed briefly to the thought of being frozen in ice until someone came to thaw him out, and he suppressed a shudder.

He was wary of her magic, but more than that, he was concerned for her wellbeing. She wasn’t in control, which could be detrimental to both her and others around her. For a moment, he considered asking Eris to help Amaya with her magic. Maybe she could offer some guidance, some way to ease this storm inside her. But he hesitated. Would Amaya even accept help? She seemed to resist anything he offered over the last two months. For now, he would keep that thought to himself.

Folding the paper carefully, the Prince slipped it back into his pocket, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers. “I’ll do as you ask,” he said softly. He paused, searching her face, looking for a flicker of something—anything—that would tell him more about what she was feeling. “But... I hope you know that what I wrote is true.”

Amaya finally met his gaze again, her eyes flashing with emotion for the barest moment - before she quickly smothered it behind her cool façade. She imagined running away into the frost and wilderness.

“I’ll grieve their Queen with them. Not my mother.”

Flynn nodded at her response, letting silence hang between them for a few breaths while he held her gaze. He understood. Who was he to tell her when and how to grieve? He could not yet know what it was like to publicly grieve a mother while still being expected to maintain the poised composure of royalty.

“Very well.” he finally said, taking one step down on the stairway before offering out his hand for her to take. “Shall we go together, then?”

Amaya couldn’t quite hide the shock she felt - it was there in the slight widening of her eyes, in the way she leaned (almost flinched, really) away from his hand. She knew it was clear to him that her magic was not under control. She could very well freeze his hand if she took it.

Not that she would ever admit to caring.

Her fists had buried themselves deeper into the folds of her dress. She couldn’t tell if she was imagining the ice at her fingertips, or if her untethered magic was still seeping into the world. Amaya looked back up at Flynn, expecting to see hesitance or a challenge or judgment, but… there was just that patience again. That openness that offended her so, when he displayed his anxieties for all to see. But it stilled her now. The sharp rejection that had come to her like a reflex, died on her tongue.

Slowly, Amaya forced one hand to uncurl against the fabric of her dress. She kept it close to her body as she raised it, eyes flicking down to ensure she’d sealed off every last ounce of her magic from it. Her mind spun through the exercises she’d drilled years ago, when she’d first learned to harness. After one last look up at Flynn to make sure he wasn’t second guessing this, she placed her hand lightly onto his, barely touching his skin.

Flynn felt the icy chill of Amaya’s hand seep into his as he intertwined his fingers with hers, but he held her firmly and without hesitation. The coldness from her magic radiated from her skin, but he kept his grip steady and unwavering, trusting her in this brief moment not to harm him—this, in itself, felt like a small victory. It was the first time she’d allowed any sort of sustained contact, but he wasn't about to ruin the moment by pointing it out. The quiet between them felt delicate, as if a single word could shatter it.

Without a word, he began to descend the stairs with her, step by step. Together, they moved through the house, Flynn leading her toward the front door as he wondered what was going through his wife's mind at that moment. She had clearly been hesitant to take his hand, but he was glad that she had.

Opening the front door for her, the chill of the outside air greeted them as they stepped into the cold darkness of the day. He glanced upwards, noticing the clouds gathering, their edges illuminated by the pale radiance of the moon. The sky mirrored the atmosphere between them—tense, but calm for now.

As they walked into the crisp air, Flynn cast a brief glance her way, half-expecting her to pull away, but she remained beside him, still holding his hand. A moment of unexpected peace lingered between them, and thankfully, he didn’t feel the need to fill it with words.

Amaya spent the entire walk through the town methodically folding away every bit of magic, emotion, and pain deep into the space hidden between her spine and her heart. It was odd, touching Flynn in this small way. Intimidating and disorienting. She tried not to think on it. Instead she focused on his hand - how his palm encompassed her own, long fingers tying her to him. How his steady warmth seeped into her. If she could just protect this little candle flame between their hands, hold her frigid magic at bay as the steady beat of his pulse slowed her own, then maybe there was hope that she could hold herself together long enough to make it through the speech.

When they reached the outskirts of the town center, the faint murmur of the gathered crowd began to grow louder, an uneasy energy building in the air. Flynn paused, casting a glance at Amaya, feeling the steady warmth now between their hands. It was strange, but grounding at the same time.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice now carrying a more firm and confident tone than he had been using with her earlier. Easily, Flynn stepped into his Princely role once more. Wearing his own mask this time. Strong, certain of his every decision, a man of the people. His shoulders straightened, and his gaze sharpened as if all the uncertainty had melted away in an instant. Flynn had been trained to wear the title of Prince as effortlessly as the cloak around his shoulders, his voice steady and unyielding. In that moment, he was no longer just a husband trying to bridge a fragile gap or a leader second-guessing his choices. He was the embodiment of Aurelia’s future, ready to face the crowd, regardless of their loyalties. With Amaya at his side, they would face whatever awaited them together—or so he hoped.

The Princess didn’t react outwardly to his shift in demeanor, but she noticed it all the same. He seemed taller beside her - or perhaps Amaya just felt smaller, fragile and uncertain in the wake of his confidence. But she still saw it for what it was. Some quiet part of her felt… sad for him. Flynn, who so often wore his emotions on his face, had walls to retreat behind, too. He was a Prince, after all.

Amaya carefully untwined their fingers, drawing her hand back. She kept her gaze straight ahead. The loss of his warmth was immediate, shocking her skin. Amaya drew her hands together in front of her legs. There was a small intake of breath as heat met ice - she’d been so focused on protecting Flynn’s hand that she hadn’t noticed her other hand growing numb in the cold winter air. The temperature difference was almost painful as she gripped her hands together, trying to thaw.

The pain grounded her. Her face remained placid and poised, chin held high. The shaking of her hands was almost imperceptible as she shuttered away her emotions and kept her gaze straight ahead.

Just off to the side of the stage, a young Aurelian herald stood, scanning the gathered crowd. His eyes caught movement at the far edge of the square, and in an instant, his posture straightened. He recognized the unmistakable forms of the Prince and Princess approaching. With a sense of urgency, he hurried onto the stage. Once positioned at the center, he cleared his throat and raised his voice, trained for moments like this.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Dawnhaven!" His voice boomed across the square, instantly drawing attention. The murmurs of the crowd began to hush, curiosity and tension thickening the air. "It is my great honor to present to you—Amaya Selu, Princess of Lunaris, and Flynn Astaros, Prince of Aurelia!"

As the names rang out, the anticipation rippled through the crowd. Slowly, all eyes turned toward the approaching figures. Amaya and Flynn, walking hand in hand, ascended the wooden stage that had been crafted for this moment. The crowd’s murmur faded entirely as the two royals came into full view, their contrasting presences—Amaya’s cold, reserved grace and Flynn’s commanding yet steady demeanor—setting the tone for what was to come. The stage creaked softly beneath their feet, and a weighted silence settled, the town holding its breath for what would come next.

As Flynn took center stage, he could feel his own nerves beginning to creep in as he looked upon the many faces before him. Although he’d been trained all his life to speak in front of crowds, he found himself growing nervous now—an unfamiliar sensation for him. Speaking to Aurelians, who admired him, was something he could manage with ease. But addressing the Lunarians who likely harbored little affection for him, save for the safety Dawnhaven provided, was a different challenge altogether. Nonetheless, the mask he had dawned remained strong and his facial expression remained calm and steady. Having gone over his speech many times earlier that morning, Flynn did not take out the parchment from his pocket and began to speak on it from memory.

"Citizens of Dawnhaven, thank you for gathering here today.” he began, easily able to project his voice in a clear and commanding way. “I stand before you with news from the capital of Lunaris that may be deeply upsetting to many of you. We have just learned that Queen Anjali, who was beloved by many, tragically passed away about a month ago. The King has remarried and, according to our sources, she is with child as well.”

Flynn paused as the crowd began to whisper among themselves at the news, the ripples of surprise beginning to spread.

“I understand that this news may come as a shock to those who held Queen Anjali in such high regard. While I did not have the privilege of knowing her well, I had the honor of meeting her once before I married her daughter, your princess, Amaya. In that brief encounter, Queen Anjali showed me great kindness.”

Recalling the lines that Amaya had not wanted him to say, Flynn’s mind recited the words internally, causing him to hesitate just briefly in his speech. _{I saw the love in her eyes as she watched Amaya walk down the aisle to become my wife. It is clear to me that the Queen was not only beloved but also a devoted mother who raised a remarkable daughter.}

“For that, I am profoundly grateful.” He continued, excluding those lines and staying true to his word. “At this time, I would like to invite Princess Amaya to say a few words about her mother and share her thoughts during this difficult moment."

Turning towards Amaya, Flynn held her gaze for a heartbeat, searching her eyes as if silently asking if she was alright. She offered him no answer. Only the briefest glance, like she couldn’t look away fast enough. His emerald eyes softened, though his expression remained composed. The crowd seemed to fade, and for a brief second, it was just the two of them on that stage, bound together by this shared weight. He knew how much this moment meant, how much it cost her.

Taking a small step back, Flynn offered her the space to speak and left the center stage to her—this was her moment.

Standing alone, Amaya looked out over the crowd of people - her people. Whether they were from Lunaris or not, that they were here in Dawnhaven, meant Amaya was responsible for them in some way. And she hardly recognized any of them.

There were the members of her royal guard. Flynn’s blightborn advisor with whom she’d barely exchanged two words. The sage, Eris, that Flynn so often met with. But Amaya felt disconnected from them all, as she stood above the eclectic group of humans and otherworldly blightborn. She didn’t even know who amongst them was Lunarian. Amaya filled with shame that she couldn’t afford to feel in this moment.

Amaya searched the crowd for Elara, her handmaiden - her only friend. Something in her chest loosened as she found her silver form. She tried to draw strength from the only person in this world who truly knew her, now that her mother was gone.

“Words seem inadequate to describe the enormity of this loss.” Her voice was softer than Flynn’s had been - less commanding. But it carried through the crowd like a breeze. She hadn’t thought of what to say on the walk here. It had felt too dangerous, with the fragile grip she had on her emotions. But her mother deserved this. Amaya tried to swallow.

“There are some here who may be unfamiliar with Queen Anjali. She had several monikers, but the most common one was the Winter Queen. I understand that to Aurelians, this may seem an unforgiving thing to call her, but please know that it was a term of deep affection. There is beauty in winter - snow blanketing an evergreen, like a quilt draped around a child.”

Amaya was seven years old, fear like ice in her veins, stopping her heart, as she threw soaking, freezing body into her mother’s embrace.

“A chill in the air that urges communities closer together, sharing food and warmth.”

She was fifteen, sitting in her mother’s study as they both read independently - but never out of reach of each other.

“A quiet stillness that soothes your racing thoughts, and urges you to simply be.”

She was twenty-four, and it was the last time she would ever see her mother alive. Her wedding was in mere hours. The Queen had dismissed all of Amaya’s attendants, until it was just the two of them looking at each other in the reflection of her mirror. Slowly, silently, her mother helped her dress in her ornate wedding gown. She combed her fingers through Amaya’s hair, weaving the strands together into an elegant design. She threaded fine, sparkling jewels into her hair, around her neck, circling her wrist. And when Amaya had finally been transformed into the bride they were all awaiting, her mother wiped her tears with gentle hands, and placed a long, soft kiss at the crown of her head.

“She was all of these things to the people of Lunaris.” Her beautiful mother, who’d traveled across the ocean and through the mountains to rule over a kingdom that did not know her - but still grew to love her. “She was patient, when it was easier to be afraid. Kind, when it was easier to be cold. Fair, when it was easier to be cruel. And now without her… this land of frost and moonlight seems colder. The night seems darker, without her brilliance.”

Amaya let her gaze refocus again over the crowd - people who would never know her. But they deserved to. She thought of her father, and with sudden clarity realized that she hated him. Ice so cold that it burned filled her body. She made a decision fueled in equal parts by love for her mother and spite towards her father.

“When the settlement of Dawnhaven was proposed to the Kingdom of Lunaris, Queen Anjali was its strongest advocate at court.” The King had despised how influential his wife had been amongst the other nobles. And while he’d managed to stifle any public knowledge of her power while she was alive, Amaya would see to it that her legacy was known. “She was adamant that the collaboration between our two kingdoms, and the offer of sanctuary to those touched by the blight, was the only choice that we could afford to make.” You must survive, my darling girl. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, as Amaya fought to hold steady against the churn of her emotions. “And so all of us here, Lunarian and Aurelian, human and blightborn, have been touched by her tireless belief that the world can become more patient, kinder, and fairer, as long as there are those endeavoring to see it so. If you loved her, as -” as I did. Her voice broke, the words trapping themselves in her throat.

She couldn’t breathe. If she did, if she let her lungs work, she would gasp and sob and wail. Her world narrowed to nothing but the thunderous pounding of her heart. Hot tears burned at her eyes, threatening to fall. She couldn’t break, not here, in front of strangers, in front of Flynn. The warmth had long since left her hands, where she held them in front of her dress.

Amaya tried to swallow. She tried to breathe. The tears came perilously close to falling, and Amaya tilted her head up to the sky, like they wouldn’t fall if she simply refused to allow them. But she paused as she looked up.

Snow.

Full, soft flakes drifted through the air, landing on her cheek as gently as her mother’s touch. Amaya was captivated. Bits of sparkling white powder adorned her dark hair like jewels, melted into her white dress like lace. The shining moon emerged behind the clouds, filling Amaya’s vision.

A single tear finally crested over her cheek.

“If you grieve for her,” she said softly, still transfixed. She looked back out over the crowd. Her voice was fragile, but didn’t falter. “There are no flowers you could leave at her grave, no songs you could sing, that would be more fitting a tribute to her memory than simply…proving her right.” Her face flashed in Amaya’s mind, a soft smile and bright blue eyes nestled in a loving expression. She wondered what her mother would see, if she looked out over this crowd.

“Just prove her right. That’s all she would ask.”

Amaya let her gaze drop, forcing herself to not drop her composure anymore than she had already. Then she dismissed herself, and turned to walk to the back of the stage. If Flynn had expected to continue the meeting with her involvement, then she supposed he would have to improvise. She simply didn’t have any more in her.

Her footsteps marked a simple path through the gathering snow on the stage. Amaya turned to face the crowd again when she arrived at the back, head held high and eyes unfocused. She didn’t bother to wipe the tear track on her face.

As Amaya finished her speech and made her way toward the back of the stage, Flynn glanced at her, hoping to catch her eye. He offered her a faint, supportive smile—one he hoped would remind her that she wasn’t alone in this—but she didn’t meet his gaze. She passed him as though the weight of the world were still pressing down on her shoulders alone. His heart sank for her, knowing how difficult this moment had been. Nonetheless, her speech had left him with a deep sense of pride. Despite the turmoil she was enduring, despite the weight of grief and anger that he knew threatened to consume her, she stood there, composed and regal. She had faced the crowd with strength, her words steady, even as her heart undoubtedly ached. He admired her resilience.

Instinctively, his eyes dropped to her hands, searching for any signs of her magic slipping free. To his relief, there was no frost, no telltale shimmer of ice or uncontrolled power. For now, it seemed she had it under control.

Stepping forward into the center of the stage once more, Flynn scanned the gathered crowd—his people. Lunarians and Aurelians alike stood before him, the tension thick in the air, the anticipation palpable. The snowflakes fell softly around them, a cold hush settling over the town. This was his moment now, but his mind lingered on Amaya. He had to carry on, but he would not forget the quiet strength she had shown, even if she refused to look at him. With a steady breath, he turned his focus to the task at hand, ready to address the people.
"Thank you, Princess, not only for your words but for your strength in sharing them." Flynn said, his voice warm as he glanced toward her before turning back to the crowd, admiration for her evident in his tone. "As we process this news, I want to acknowledge the uncertainty it brings to all of us. It is concerning, not only because of the loss of a cherished Queen but also because of the rapid changes happening in the Lunarian capital. These events remind us of the fragile nature of our world and the importance of standing united as we face the challenges ahead.

Dawnhaven is a place where people from different backgrounds, beliefs, and lands come together for a common purpose. In these trying times, it is more important than ever that we remain strong and united. We must continue our efforts towards finding a cure and ensuring the safety and well-being of our community. I want to extend my heartfelt gratitude to all the human citizens of Dawnhaven for your acceptance and support of the blight-born. Your contributions, remarkable generosity, and willingness to embrace them have played a crucial role in our city’s progress. I firmly believe that the blight-born, despite their circumstances, deserve a second chance at life. They have greatly contributed to our city, and their resilience exemplifies the spirit we all share. Our mission to return them to civilization and stop the blight is a testament to our collective strength and compassion.” Flynn paused for a few heartbeats, his eyes finding his blight-born advisor who had been invaluable during this time.

“Let us remember that while we may come from different kingdoms, our shared determination and strength will guide us through these dark times.” As Flynn reached the final words of his speech, he allowed a brief silence to settle over the crowd. “Together, we will weather this storm as one.”

Taking a steadying breath, he turned to leave, his gaze naturally seeking out Amaya. Between them, the snowflakes fell faster, their gentle descent gathering upon the dirt and gravel roads below. Closing the distance between them, Flynn extended his hand toward her. His emerald eyes locked with hers, a silent, hesitant plea reflected there, as if asking for her permission to hold her hand once more. His fingers lightly brushed hers, seeking the delicate touch of her hand in his so that they might leave the stage as one.

The cold breeze tugged at his cloak, the temperature notably beginning to drop, but Flynn’s focus remained on Amaya, waiting to see if she would allow another moment of connection despite her vulnerable state.

Amaya took a slow breath in, still looking straight ahead. Then she answered his silent request, placing her hand in his. It was a careful motion, more performance than connection. Amaya knew her role here, before the eyes of Dawnhaven. She couldn’t afford to open herself up right now - not somewhere so public, after such a monumental revelation.

Not when her control was hanging by a thread.

And so, sealing herself away, Amaya allowed her husband to lead her by the hand, off of the stage. The warmth was familiar this time. So was the snow, as it coated Dawnhaven.

Flynn felt a wave of relief wash over him as Amaya's hand gently slipped into his. The simple act of her accepting his touch was a quiet victory, a reassurance amid the crowd’s scrutiny. Despite their vast differences, at least they could agree to appear as a united front among the people of Dawnhaven.

With her hand securely in his, Flynn guided her off the stage. The crisp, winter wind grew stronger, sending flurries of snow swirling around them as they descended the steps. The guards, ever vigilant, fell into formation behind them, their presence a formal shield against the encroaching cold and any potential threats.

The couple moved in silence, their path illuminated by the dim glow of lanterns as they made their way back toward their cabin. The wind whipped through the trees, its mournful howl an omen for what was to come.

---

_{Collaboration with @c3p-0h}

Eris’s eyes lit up with excitement as she listened to Ashe’s response. “I’ll definitely spread the word about your work! It’s truly a masterpiece,” She smiled, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she admired her bracelet and pulled the fiery coat closer to her once more. “Such talent deserves to be recognized. I’ll be sure to tell everyone about the remarkable work you do.” She returned her gaze to Ashe, finding herself rather comfortable in their presence now. “I’m genuinely fascinated by your craftsmanship. What did you do before becoming blight-born? Did you—”

Her question was abruptly cut off as a herald's voice rang out over the crowd, announcing the arrival of the Prince and Princess. The words were barely out before a ripple of anticipation spread through the town square. Eris glanced at Ashe, her curiosity about their past momentarily set aside as the atmosphere shifted towards the grand occasion.

Eris’s heart raced with anticipation as the Prince took the stage, but nothing could have prepared her for the announcement that followed. When the Prince spoke of the Queen of Lunaris’s passing, Eris felt as if the world had momentarily tilted beneath her feet. Her mind reeled with the gravity of the situation—what had led to this? The implications were overwhelming, and her thoughts raced to the possible political maneuvers of the King of Lunaris. The notion of him remarrying and having another child to secure his lineage unsettled her deeply, casting a shadow over her thoughts.

Her eyes welled with tears as she watched Amaya speak about her mother, feeling the raw, palpable grief of the young Princess. Though Amaya had always been reserved, the emotion in her eyes was undeniable, and it tugged at Eris's heartstrings.

As the snow began to fall heavily from the night sky, Eris watched as the delicate flakes melted before even touching the coat Ashe had lent her. For a moment, she was grateful to be encased in warmth, immune to the frigid air.

When the Prince returned to the stage, Eris felt a renewed sense of purpose and pride wash over her. She had a role to play here, and she was determined to assist the Prince in finding a cure for the blight. Talking with Ashe earlier had been a triumph in itself, and now, with the Prince’s unifying words ringing in her ears, she felt a renewed bravery. The fear she had harbored towards the blight-born seemed smaller in comparison to the overwhelming resolve she now felt.

When the Prince and Princess exited the stage, Eris remained quietly contemplative, barely registering the change in temperature as the warmth from Ashe’s coat guarded her. “May Aelios and Seluna guide Queen Anjali to the next realm…” she said softly to herself, barely above a whisper.
With a final glance at the retreating figures of royalty, she turned back to Ashe, unclasping the coat and offering it back to them before they parted ways. The cold night air now bit at her exposed skin and the warmth she had felt from the garment was replaced with a stark chill as the wind whipped her hair around her face. “Thank you for your generosity, Ashe,” her voice soft but sincere.

"It seems the weather has taken a turn, as if the Winter Queen herself has joined us this evening." She smiled and tucked her hair against her shoulder, her gaze lingering on Ashe with a newfound appreciation for the warmth they had provided, both in the physical sense and in her growing confidence.

---

_{Interactions: Ashe @Timemaster}

Gadez Paladice

A gathering of so many blightborn was bound to draw attention, there would come a time when a haven would become something more.

He had pondered plenty on the source of the blight and what may have caused it, seeing how vastly different each blightborn were it once again made him reconsider the origin of it. There were no mortal powerful enough to unleash this amount of power upon the land, it was simply not possible. There was a limit in how much a body and mind could handle, and eventually people would grow old and die. While he did think plenty of the blight having its origin in nature, perhaps... he were right. But the way he thought about it had been wrong. Perhaps it was about human nature. Their greed and ambition. He knew it all too well.

He drew two new conclusions, both quite similar. Due to there being no known cure, and how the blight seemed to alter people physically. It meant it could be a forbidden kind of magic. The dark arts of necromancy was something which came naturally to mind. To make the dead walk anew.

But at this scale? The blue eyed bastard narrowed his eyes. It had to be a magical device able to contain magical energies and also emit them. Like how ripples would be formed on water after one would toss in a rock. So either there would be an undying ancient magic user of the dark arts, with a mastery over said art to an unfathomable degree. Or it were a collection of outcasts joining together. Much like dawnhaven itself. The oppressed and misunderstood often found comfort in each other. Of the two possibilities he considered the latter seemed the more plausible, but he hoped he was wrong. Because if somehow necromancy was at the root, then what if every blightborn would someday simply lose control of themselves? Becoming nothing but commandable puppets on strings.

A phantom army to conquer the world and make the darkness last far longer. If there were someone out there capable of magically subdue the wills of others... he would do his outmost to destroy that very being utterly by any means possible. Free will was to be protected, without it the world would be truly dead.

People like Kira and Leela, while being blightborn and dead by some peoples estimation still had wills of their own. Paladice didn't mind people to have different opinions nor did he hesitate when people would clash because of their desires. But to take away that which made life into life, the free will to chose ones own path. That's why he couldn't let such defilers to live. The grand board had plenty of dangerous pieces, yet not all the pieces would be what they appear to be.

He closed his eyes momentarily as he thought of the times to come.

'All you have planned will be for naught King Astaros, your son will die and so will you. The truth may be grim, but it doesn't mean it is wrong. Oh Flynn Astaros, do you even know the meaning of your name?

Names are important as we wander in the...

Goddess Paradise. Our world.

The golden star awaits you...'

Paladice listened to the speech from the stage. He already knew plenty of how the scene would play out. But were the prince speaking his own mind, or did he bear a mask? That would have to be further delved into away from the stage. Speaking of such, he couldn't stay for long as he made his way to intercept the royals and their guards on the way.

The wind was blowing from his side, causing his mantle to flicker in the wind as he walked out from behind a couple of trees, standing in the middle of the road ahead of the royals and their guards, leaves falling from the trees, like the very earth was weeping for the loss of the beloved mother.

The guards were at high alert, but even still that wouldn't stop a man such as him from seizing the moment. He spoke out, loud yet almost as if it were a melody. Making sure the entourage would hear him.

"Beautiful maize and ruddy star. A physical form may fade away, yet memories will never die. She'll always be a part of you princess, no matter what. All you need to do is look within. And you Prince Red Star... you are the spitting image of your father. Or rather how he used to look like. A long time ago. My sincerest condolences to you both…" He offered a butlerlike bow and began to move towards the side of the road to make way for the group. His hood and purple cape still flickering in the wind, blue and red combined into one. Like fire and ice. His blonde hair joining the wind, his piercing ghostly blue eyes landed on both the princess and the prince.

"A mother of many a child is most beloved, in the lands of ice and snow, where the land is harsh but the flowers still grow. See to it that you'll bloom magnificently, and save this world from the looming doom. In the twainlight zone." His blonde hair fell over his eyes as he changed his pose, a soft smile on his lips. He remained standing but aside of the pathway to let the entourage pass if they weren't in the talkative mood.

'Quite the family in the making. A pity you could not live to see it to the end. But the real world isn't as kind as the storybooks, not all be there at the end of the tale.' He allowed his mind to fall on the queen which had recently passed away, she truly had been beloved. Very much unlike the two kings who were bent on each others destruction. It was thanks to her that Dawnhaven would even exist. For this he was thankful, a final gift which would see the Aurelian king dead. He picked up a winter flower and then lit it on fire using his magic, then blew the remains to be carried to the wind.

'Rest well mother of the new dawn...'

@The Muse@c3p-0h

Moving to the opposite side of the town square, Kira decided to put as much distance between herself and Elara as possible. Her steps were quick, avoiding any further temptation to accidentally fall into feral behavior. She found refuge by the blacksmith’s building, leaning against the cool stone wall, still on the outskirts of the crowd and unable to smell the sweet scent of the blood that coursed through her childhood friend's veins.

As the Prince and Princess began their announcement, Kira listened carefully, her ears tuning in to every word. The news of Queen Anjali's death brought a slight pang of surprise, but Kira couldn’t say she was entirely shocked. The King had always been cold, calculated, and devoid of empathy, even when it came to his own family. The Prince did not specifically say that the Queen had been murdered, but to Kira there was no other explanation. It was obvious to her that the King would “replace” the Queen as soon as Amaya was gone and there was no one left to contest him. That was who he was—a man who saw people as chess pieces, easily discarded when no longer useful. It was sad, but Kira knew the game he played all too well.

As Amaya spoke of her mother, Kira's thoughts drifted to the few interactions she had with the late Queen during her own time in the castle. Queen Anjali had been a rare figure of kindness in Kira's life, offering her food when she was at her weakest, starved and battered from endless training. It was Anjali’s empathy that had sustained her, though the Queen never truly knew Kira. The Queen had helped many of the orphan children who had been put to work by the King. Still, in those fleeting moments, it felt like Anjali had been the only one keeping her from breaking entirely. Clearly, Queen Anjali had taken pity on Kira—a child stolen from Aurelia to be molded into the lethal Lunarian weapon she was today.

As the meeting came to a close, Kira's orange gaze wandered across the crowd, observing the mix of reactions to the news. Her attention was briefly caught by the rising wind, tugging at her cloak and flicking strands of her fiery red hair into her face. Irritated, she pulled her hood up, her mind beginning to swirl with thoughts of the King. What was his plan? He wanted to replace Amaya, no doubt. He had already offered her up as a sacrifice, which would leave him with no heir at all and put the entire kingdom’s future at risk. He was old, and his time was running thin.

Kira would wager that the Aurelian King would do the same, if he were in the same position. After all, power and control came before all else to men like them. With a quiet sigh, she pushed off the wall and stalked away, deciding to retreat to the safety of her home before the storm worsened. She needed time to process everything—Anjali’s death, the King's next move, and what all of this meant for the realm. Keeping her hood low, she disappeared into the winding streets, ready to hole up and wait for the storm to pass.

Coswain seems to have hit a nerve, the man could talk and talk…and talk. He was some Auralian nobility but he had not come across this family before, probably one of the overly proud lesser nobility that have a massively inflated ego and an inbred lineage of a dozen cousin marriages. It never ended well, you seemed after a few generations to end in madness. “Castellian, is a rank of import behind a castle in Lunaris.” He said with a tight tone.

“Do you realise how many times I heard that In my career? How many have claimed that in Lunaris…to know a Lord, a Prince, the King….” He said entirely unimpressed and without concern, the chances were slim. You had to claim such things, you were faking it. Looking over however the snow was starting to increase and to get stronger, to get heavier and the subtle wind etc began to pick up force.

He gave a wonder and a worry, his thoughts said that the snow would be worse, would be stronger, and would last. “Your his friend, and you'd starve his project” He said with an easy expression, He knew if he was working for Prince he would not sabotage the man's project as that would be a fast way to lose his favour.

“He is not causing much ado in the middle of the crowd, much as he is cursed.” He did not let the man intimidate him.

“This Crone is a Lady, wife, and a Throne Agent to name a few.” Persephone said in a tight capital accent of Lunaris, she had a tight expression and looked at the women and kneeled down to her. “Calm miss, calm… your gonna hurt yourself.” She placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and stopped her getting up Just yet.
“She failed to hit you, your not hurt. No blood shed. No gold Lost.” Coswain said that he studied the situation, he had no cause to arrest the woman yet.

“No… not on my knees … if you have to talk you can… Looks like show time.” Coswain said and the speech came, and things… changed. Alot.

His feelings were…complicated to say the least, the Queen was Dead? She had been the light of Lunaris, the King Was.about as likable as the plague to many but they loved the queen, truely she had been loved. This just changed everything and yet they where so far away unable to do anything.

He had seem how things where in the capital, seen how things where in the Castle, the markets…Lunaris was holding together but by Selene it was fragile at the best of times, damaged, enemies on several fronts, threats internal and external…

“By Selene… things are worse than imagined. So much worse.” Coswain said with a shocked look, the Winter Queen was one of the things holding everything together, she had been the uniting force and the symbol they could admire. Now what did they have?. Coswain looked and tried to process the news.

The snow was falling much thicker and it was falling in settlement thickness, he seen ernough snow to reconise when it was a dead man's blizzard, this was a real danger.

“Cancel it new priorities, We not have time, make sure you have fire wood, food and so prepared for a week or more. look Marquess Ayel Raunefeldt.” He was still processing anf currently grappling with the bombshell that just dropped and exploded right as Prince And Princess spoke. “Get your horses into stables if you want them to live, and I'm not sure where your staying. Or how, but if you have winter preparation, Do it now and do it fast. You can always argue with me when we still alive after this.” He did not know where he planned to stay, the Inn unless it was a Unfinished wing was near full, their was empty houses and so but winter had beaten their builders and many where still yet to be finished.

“Winter is enemies of all, It takes no sides, You can try the Inn, but it's pretty full unless you like a buidling site, so you might have to find your own shelter. Maybe the Temple or so should be warm and provisioned.” He said and looked to head off to organise that materials, food, firewood, water and other things got distributed and where stocked up. once this bit they where Inside for the duration.

“Lass, I know ya hung over, but right now, forget this fight, this feels like we gonna be in a white out, get ya home ready.” He said more kindly and nodded to Persephone.

“My husbands right, how about we worry about the bigger problems.” She Gave The Lord a minor glare and hoped this woman not throw up all over the good unform she wore.

Persephone had her own feelings, they where a utter mess right now and barely could begin to peice it all together. The Queen was Dead, the entire situation had just changed and no one knew how it would play out. She has not met her personally but like many… she had admired the Winter Queen and she had been a loved and figure of unity in the Kingdom.

Mentions
@Dezuel@GambolMuse@Qia@Lu

Sya felt a little hot and swayed a little before she recovered, thankfully her companion had left, he very much confused her in many ways. He spoke a dozen words and you wondered if 11 were a lie… he was interesting. She gave him that.

His final words and actions had her even more bemused. Leaving on a prophecy, a song and a point she was sure she could work out if she sat down and mulled it over for a few minutes. He gave her mixed feelings but also he probably would make the town more colourful to be sure, not likely … most likely he would end up at the Inn somehow, he needed a meal even if he seemed to live off water, man must be mad, water was never clean as ale.

The Prince's words and news did not rock her much as others, the Queen of Lunaris was a distant figure to her, all the Royalty bar Flynn and his Princess were distant, Capitals were a long way from her home, new home and former homeland. She had no loyalty to those places.

She stayed quiet and watched respectfully as the news hit some much harder than others, the snow gathered on her shoulder and she knew, somehow, that she should prepare. She felt little effect or challenge to such weather events but those under her roof? Definitely would be harmed If the fires ran low.

She would prepare however much she felt off, something was off and she felt it in her very soul. She suppressed the feeling, Sya would talk it over with Olivia in the evening when they had time alone. The construction was well on track though and hopefully that internal work would not be paused by this weather? If they were willing anyway.

Sya made a mental list as she hopped off chair and returned it to the table, the small blightborn woman bounced slightly as she headed into the gradually thickening snow, she could appreciate it majesty least personally without fear. First things first, make sure the cellar was stocked, secured and the firewood was piled close. It would be easier to grab, before they could build the loading Docks and so where it would be much more accessible even In harsh weather.

Again her vision gave her a headache but she ignored that and pushed on, Sya could not afford to stop. She had important work to do.

How little did she know it was not a bug and what she was in for. Or what she would become. Her legs hurting was a bad omen.

Fiona Grear

There were perhaps many ways to attend a speech, though few that were suitable for one of such gravitas. Laying prone in the dirt while your head spun was certainly not one of them. Fiona did listen though, closing her eyes as she let the news, of pretty, flowery words, grief intermingled with vacuous hope tangling together as Prince and Princess spoke. Politics and royal affairs were well beyond her wheelhouse, lacking both the education and patience for most formalities and courtly proceedings. Human to human, however, she could empathize with loss, knowing well enough what it was like. Addled as she was, she still retained enough decency to send a silent, if muddled prayer to the powers that be for the Queen's soul.

She had less decency to tolerate Ayel's brand of pompous prickery. Being sprawled out on her back prevented her from lashing out, though she did kick once or twice, fussing like a toddler being told 'no'. Once apparent she would not wreak righteous vengeance upon Ayel's shins, she huffed, letting her head drop back down, staring up at the sky. Flakes began to fall, dusting her cheeks, a few landing on her lashes, and she blinked through the quickly melting snow.

Blessedly, the cold helped sober her up a little, and when approached by Persephone she gladly accepted the help to stand. She only wavered a little, bracing for just a pause before nodding, waving off any offers to help further. Dusting herself down, she cleared her throat, swiping her hand under her nose. "Aye... Over it anyroad, no worries. No harm, eh?" A lopsided smile was offered, and Fiona almost extended a hand to Ayel to apologize, then dropped it; she doubted he'd take it anyways, and he really didn't deserve an apology.

"Queen bein' dead... Now that's a tough break. You lot've got my condolences. Cannae say I knew her much, or well... At all." Awkwardly, she laughed as she rubbed at her neck. "But heard nothin' but good things. Mostly. Prayers for her and whatnot." The last thing they wanted or needed was some hungover Aurelian commoner giving condolences. Fiona dusted herself one more time before adjusting her cloak, tucking her hands under her pits, shoulders raising as she felt a lone flake land on her neck. With a soft yelp she shook her head, squinting up at the sky. "Ah ken I'm a proper mess, what with spendin' my night proper blootered and whatnot, but if there's anything I can do... Aside from rubbin' elbows with Mr. Prissy here, just ask, aye?"

@PrinceAlexus@Dezuel

---

---

_{Location: Frostmoon Lake}
Tia gasped back into a world of blinding white. Frigid air shocked her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. Frozen needles stabbed into her hands, her cheeks, her legs where they kneeled in the snow, wrapped in the heavy fabric of her robes. She coughed, her frigid hand coming up to her scarred throat – only to meet the fabric of her scarf, coated in a thick layer of snow.There was snow everywhere. It filled the air in a growing storm, already having coated much of Tia’s body. She was shaking violently as her body curled in on itself. Her mind fought to make sense of everything.

Dawnhaven. The lake. A hand that was not hers.

Tia blinked, frost coating her eyelashes. She looked down at her hand – it was pale, shaking against the winter cold. But it was hers. Instead of fire wisping off her skin, there was only snow. The ring was a band of ice around her finger. With clumsy, uncooperative hands, Tia removed the opal ring, only to fumble and drop it to the ground. She clenched her chattering teeth as she grabbed it, the snow feeling like daggers piercing her skin.

She looked out at the lake again. Her mind felt frantic and sluggish, all at once. But all she could think about was warmth. Squeezing her eyes shut, Tia curled in on herself against the storm again. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t bear the thought of getting up and pushing herself through the storm, back to the heat of Aelios’ flame, back in the temple.Tia allowed herself another stuttering heartbeat in the snow. And then she pushed herself to her feet. She stumbled, falling on numb legs, back to the ground with a whimper. Her hand clenched tighter around the ring. She tried again.

When at last, she was back on her unstable feet, she turned her back to the lake. The footprints that marked her journey to the lake were long gone, hidden under a growing layer of snow. Some distant part of her mind realized that she’d likely missed the town meeting. It didn’t seem important at the moment.

Willing herself not to collapse, Tia forced her frozen body back towards the town, seeking the heat of her temple.

Ayel Raunefeldt

He considered himself an even tempered man, merciful and understanding. But no matter what he had felt the veins on his face beginning to expand and how his face got warmer and warmer, like a volcano about to burst.

How dared that filthy peasant girl talk to him without being given permission to do so! How dared she speak gibberish, or what he assumed was some clearly inferior Lunaris tongue. It had to be. Not only that but she was seemingly drunk, the worst kind of peasant, the ones which likely was awful working away for their betters.

She had then attempted to strike him, he whose done no wrongdoing in his promising life! He was filled with shock at the audacity displayed, and momentarily thought of hitting her with his sword sheathe. But the goddess had gotten equally as insulted by her and made her slip.

Ayel felt a powerful tingle from his belly and spine, he could feel the goddess gracing her most favoured child. Him.

He almost phased out of the scene itself as he thought about it being a sign for greatness to come. That all his hard struggles would yield profit.

The marquess had considered taking the opportunity to kick or grind the underside of his now slightly muddy boots against her face. But he quickly threw the idea out, for she might be even dirtier than the mud, possibly she could even send her filth all over his garments if he got closer.

It wasn't worth the risk. But he still wanted to make an example out of her. Because if one of the little peasants would get away with questioning their betters, then soon more would join it. It filled him with dread. 'Mindless mongrels.' He had thought and then looked at Coswain.

As much as Fiona had annoyed him, it was far less than what the castellan had done.

How could a mere simpleton, a guard, a greybearded stableboy dare say all those crude things to him. It was almost equally as disturbing to the marquess to learn the lady he had called a crone was married.

He frowned as he thought about it. 'Disgusting wrinkly old hagbag.' He gave her a glare then snarled at Coswain.

But before he could berate Coswain for his audacity and refusal to kneel, the prince and princess had decided to grace them.

'My friend! He must have been the one to arrange this crowd to greet me, I suppose a clueless blob of peasants will have to do. The gesture is meaningful, but the execution we need to discuss over tea. Maybe execute that guard while at it. Mmmm..' He thought and listened to the prince, is was after all someone important like himself speaking.

Perhaps the prince had arranged for him not to reach the stage so that he would be treated more like a honoured guest, and the prince was his herald? The very idea made him almost blush, that someone else thought about him almost as much as he did. It filled him with a sense of hope.

That's until the speech began. Ayel felt a surge of disappointment. This wasn't a welcoming, it was a farewell to that filthy barbarian queen of the north.

'Good riddance, that old peasant hugging harlot had it coming!' He softly chuckled as he was glad one of his mortal enemies were out of the picture. Maybe soon they would be able to colonize the barbarian land and educate the inbreds and put them to work.

Ayel felt a sense of pleasure when he thought of profit to be made.

Ayel's face grew shocked on hearing Amaya speak, her words were as foul as foul could be to him.

Beauty in winter? Share food and warmth? The marquess was taken aback as if he had gotten a bucket of ice thrown at him. She surely didn't mean sharing things for free? This was the survival of the richest, not some charity event for survival of the most stupid. He would have none of it!

Then came some words which did make him feel more at ease. There was no grave to send flowers to. Thus he could avoid having to bother to do it, not because he cared the slightest, but because of his friendship with the Aurelian royals.

Once the speeches ended, his eyes settled on Coswain. Ayel had already scoffed at what seemed to be some peasant way of appologizing from Fiona. How dared they oppose him in public! Someone might have seen or heard it!

Coswain however proved again to have the gall to try and command him! Him or all people! The very soaring Marquess of Aurelia, the chosen of the sun goddess. How dared he! Ayel felt how his teeth clenched together, his face grew wrinkly and his eyes narrowed. He tightened his hands into fists.

"Don't tell me what to do or do not do, you ill educated old fool. I am well prepared for anything this region can throw at me, I am not some incompetent barbarian. Resting in an inn, what do you take me for a pauper? Some stinking vagrant? I think not. Now I have more pressing matters to attend to, but I will take disciplinary action on you for this later. That includes all three of you." He pointed angrily and stormed off, using his swordsheath to poke and move people out of the way.

He hurried over towards where the carriages were.

"Faldrin! Where are you?!" He yelled out as his judgemental gaze wandered about. The man came running to him. "Mylord, we have successfully put up the walls, a door and the roof is being constructed at this very moment! We have put the horses into the local stable and the three carriages are lined up properly around the construction site." Faldrin explained.

"I certainly hope you didn't put my horses in with those barbarian breeds? These are pureblooded Aurelian ones. Their family line, much like my own go back generations. It's like a fine line of gold enrichment. So make sure none of those peasants creatures get near them I take it you didn't scratch my carriages? You and the workers will sleep in the newly constructed building as soon as the roof is up, you may bring your belongings in there for now. I will have to have my new home properly cleaned before I settle into it anyhow. I shall be sleeping in the middle-most carriage with all my pillows. You will be allowed to sleep only when it is midnight. I don't want my mansion and emporium to take all winter. Now go and get working. I have a self-biography to write, I will expect breakfast, lunch, teatime, dinner at the usual times. You may feed yourself from the box from the border regions, I don't like food which may be compromised by Lunarian ways. Or lunatic ways as I prefer it. Now good day Faldrin!" He opened and slammed the carriage door shut as the snow began to fall. Finally he had some time alone to do what he liked the best.

Working on himself.

@GambolMuse@PrinceAlexus

Flynn’s steps slowed as he laid eyes upon the stranger who blocked their path home. His grip on Amaya’s hand tightened protectively, senses prickling at the feeling that there was something dangerous beneath the stranger’s cloak. The guards around them stiffened as well, their hands resting near their weapons, ready to act if necessary.

Amaya glanced up at Flynn. The unexpected feeling of his hand tightening around hers brought back to reality, and out of the haze of grief that was her mind. Then she saw what — who — had him so on edge.

As the group came to a complete halt, Flynn’s eyes locked on the cloaked figure, noticing the stranger’s pale blue eyes peering out from under their purple cape. The man’s words felt eerie—his presence entirely unsettling despite not saying anything that was directly threatening.

When the stranger mentioned his father, Flynn’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. The comparison to his father, something he had heard often growing up, now left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had once been proud of it, though with his current perspective, he wasn’t sure if it was meant as a compliment, or something else entirely.

"Thank you for your kind words," Flynn said, his voice polite but guarded. He offered the pleasantries expected of him as a Prince, but no more than that. Amaya was silent and tense beside him. "I’m afraid we must be on our way—it has been a long day for us and it wouldn’t do to linger in this cold for long."

His gaze lingered on the man a moment longer, searching for any sign of ill intent behind those pale eyes. Then, with a nod, he began to guide Amaya and their retinue forward, his grip still firm around his wife’s hand as they continued down the path. The guards fell in step, their watchful eyes flicking back to the stranger even as they moved, leaving the ominous figure standing in the snow. The Prince kept his pace measured, unwilling to show any sign of haste, but every instinct screamed at him to put distance between them and the man who now stood aside, smiling cryptically.

Amaya let Flynn move her forward, her nerves too raw to do much more than follow obediently. But as they grew further and further away from the stranger, she felt a prickling along the back of her neck. She felt unclean like he’d stained her with something she had to scrub away before it set. She felt exposed.

Still walking, Amaya turned her head to look over her shoulder at the blond man in the distance. She watched as his cloak fluttered in the growing wind, a wisp of black smoke drifting away from his hand held high.

Amaya never wanted to hear him speak about her mother again.

She turned her gaze forward as the storm built in the tense air around them, obscuring them from view.

---

_{Mentioned: @Dezuel - Gadez Paladice}

Time: Morning, Location: Town Square

---

Cassandra basked in Elara's warmth. Friendliness was no longer something she was accustomed to, not from anyone aside from her cat, but it was nice to once again find herself in it's rays. Her reaction to Cass's profession, genuine excitement, pulled up from the depths memories of her littlest brother. His blue eyes had been large and his mouth agape in wonder as she had presented her first creation, a painfully simple hooded, wool-lined moleskin cloak. Cass pushed the memory away, determined to stay in the present, memories from before were no longer a safe respite.

Neither was this warmth meant to stay. A guard. A chill wrapped its hands around Cass's spine as she spoke. Useful information, certainly, "Thank you." she managed levelly.

Then, an exuberant man. Horribly annoying. She took notice of a moderate magical energy which resided within him. Would he notice if it were drained away? She stepped aside, "Nobler blood? Where?" she mused privately.

mao

"There you are!" she scooped up the orange tabby whose yellow-green eyes, to a knowing individual, displayed the contentment of one who had gotten away with his crime. Turning to Elara, "Thank you for your hospitality, Elara." Cassandra said with a small nod, offering her genuine appreciation, before making her best attempt to fade into the crowd.

Tensions had risen since whoever he was had arrived. He appeared to be abrasive to everyone, even and especially to the guards. When was this big announcement supposed to happen? Cassandra buried her nose into Butternut's neck fur, breathing in the calming scent of him.

Then, news of the death of her queen settled onto her shoulders like wet wool. Cass had never seen the queen, she had always been like a fairytale queen to her, but the princess's words made her more real in Cass's mind. She looked up to where the princess was speaking, and saw a woman around her age--wounded. Cassandra knew what it was like to know you would never again see someone you dearly love--she sympathized with Princess Amaya, as she clung to her own blissful ignorance which she had been blessed with and assumed her family still alive, continuing as they always had. She took a steadying breath, and curled herself around Butternut, her tether, as a biting wind began to pick up.

"We should find somewhere to stay." she murmured to her cat, scanning the crowd and the horizon.

---

Mentions/Interactions
Elara @Qia, Lady Coswain @PrinceAlexus, Ayel @Dezuel, Amaya @The Muse

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Ashe smiled warmly at Eris’s excitement, their fiery gaze softening with genuine gratitude. "Your words are kind—true, too, if I may say so. And don’t think I’ll forget that promise. I’ll be holding you to spreading the word about Emberweaver." Their tone was playful, yet the underlying confidence was clear. Ashe’s smile widened as they watched Eris pull the fiery coat closer, clearly enjoying her growing comfort.

However, as the speech started, Ashe’s expression grew more sombre. The news of Queen Anjali’s passing hit them harder than they had expected. Though they had never known her personally, Ashe had once been a citizen of Lunaris—a different life, before the blight took them. They had fond memories of Lunaris’ court, and there was one occasion when the Queen herself had complimented a finely crafted pair of gloves—one that Ashe had made, though she never knew who the artisan was.

As that memory resurfaced, Ashe felt the flames within them burn a little less brightly, their heat dimming as sadness briefly tempered their ever-present fire. The loss of such a figure, even for someone like Ashe, resonated deeply.

When the weather began to shift and snow fell heavily around them, Ashe found themselves at ease with the biting cold. In fact, the contrast between their internal heat and the chill air helped them feel more balanced. "I’ve always appreciated the cold. Helps me cool down a bit," Ashe remarked with a wry smile, clearly unaffected by the winter’s harshness.

As Eris began to return the coat, Ashe gently pushed her hands back toward her. "No, keep it for now. Return it when you’re home—I’ll come by and collect it later. This weather doesn’t bother me in the slightest." They nodded firmly, making it clear they wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. "Besides, I think you’ve grown attached to it already."

With a final glance toward the stage, Ashe’s demeanour shifted slightly. "My apologies but I need to speak with the Prince and Princess before they leave." They offered Eris a respectful nod before excusing themselves. "We’ll talk again soon. Stay warm, Lead Sage."

Grabbing the sack where the two statues were laying in, Ashe made their way through the thinning crowd, their path clear as people instinctively gave space to the living flame. When they reached the royal couple’s entourage, they bowed deeply but kept a cautious distance from them…and their guards.

"Your Highnesses," Ashe greeted them with a voice both steady and deferential, reflecting the gravity of the situation. "A moment of your time, if possible, please! I wish to offer my condolences for the Queen. And my thanks, for all you have done in bringing us together here."

Amaya was very quickly reaching the end of her rope. She was a raw nerve, wrung out by grief but unable to collapse until she was safely out of sight. She was tired of being looked at, and performing for strangers. That odd, ominous man that had crowed at their retinue had already set her on edge, though her placid mask never wavered. But the flurry of snow around them had grown thicker, as if to hide them. She tried to focus again on the warmth of Flynn’s hand curled around hers, that little flame that she had to protect from her magic.

But she was so tired.

So when a new voice called out to them, Amaya couldn’t help the way her fingers twitched. Her chest rose as she tried to take a deep breath to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t keep the frost from forming at her fingertips. Her eyebrows pulled together slightly, irritation turned inward as she tried to pull her magic back - at the very least, away from the hand held in Flynn’s.

The royal guards, already on high alert from the earlier encounter with the ominous stranger, visibly tensed at the sight of Ashe approaching, their fiery form instantly recognizable as blight-born. One of the armoured men stepped forward, voice gruff and authoritative. "Move along. The Prince and Princess need to be alo—"

Flynn raised his free hand, cutting the guard off with a swift motion. "Stand down," he said, his tone firm but calm. The guard hesitated, then stepped back in line, though the retinue remained watchful, hands near their weapons.

Flynn’s eyes locked onto Ashe, taking in their unique appearance and noting the way warmth radiated from their body, which was a welcome change. He hadn’t seen this blight-born before, and as the stranger bowed, he mentally added Ashe to the growing list of blight-born flooding into Dawnhaven that he needed to vet. It was becoming harder for him to keep track of them all, the waves of new arrivals testing the limits of his control and patience. Before Flynn could speak, he felt it—a frigid cold emanating from Amaya’s hand, seeping into his skin.

Without turning to look at her, Flynn gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance, hoping to be some sort of anchor for her. He knew how fragile her control over her magic had been, especially after everything that had happened today. They couldn’t afford for her to lose control here, not in front of the town.

Amaya wasn’t focusing on the large, eye-catching blight-born — she couldn’t spare the attention away from trying to wrestle her magic under control. She tried to concentrate on the warmth of Flynn’s hand, firm around hers, as ice crystals slowly crawled up the fingers of her free hand she had hidden in the folds of her dress.

Flynn's gaze remained on Ashe, steady and composed despite the biting cold from Amaya’s hand. "Thank you," he said, his voice calm yet firm, "It means a great deal to us in times such as these.” He paused, assessing the blight-born's intense form with a cautious respect. "I don't believe we've met before. Are you new to Dawnhaven?"

Amaya wondered if she should in fact stop trying to protect Flynn’s hand from her magic, if that would give him a better sense of urgency.

The snow swirled heavier around them, as if in response to Amaya’s fraying patience, but Flynn stood firm, protective of her while giving Ashe the courtesy of conversation. He didn’t let his guard down, but he needed to keep track of every blight-born in town—even if the timing was far from ideal.

Ashe straightened from their bow, offering a steady smile despite the tension in the air. "Emberweave. Ashe Emberweave, Your Highnesses, at your service." Their deep voice was respectful yet warm, much like the heat radiating from their form. "I’ve only just arrived in Dawnhaven from Lunaris."

They paused for a moment, their molten gaze flicking briefly between Flynn and Amaya before settling on the Prince. "A letter was sent ahead of me, announcing my arrival," Ashe continued, their tone calm, understanding the weight of responsibility that lay on Flynn’s shoulders. "But I imagine it might have been lost along the way... or perhaps you simply haven’t had the time to read it yet."

Flynn kept his gaze steady on Ashe as they introduced themselves, offering a respectful nod in response to their formal greeting. "Ashe Emberweave, pleasure to meet you. I apologize if your letter got lost in the shuffle. We've been... occupied with winter preparations as of late," he said, the wind now whipping his golden hair around as the cold nipped at his face.

Admittedly, Fynn had not expected winter to arrive so swiftly. Between his and Amaya’s hands, it was becoming difficult for Flynn to discern whether the icy chill he felt was from her magic or simply the worsening weather.

As they spoke, Ashe’s eyes softened slightly, sensing the strain in the air around Amaya. They didn’t pry or linger on the Princess’s evident distress, but the swirling snow and the slight frost creeping over her hand didn’t go unnoticed. Still, Ashe’s tone remained polite and steady, a reflection of both patience and respect for the gravity of the situation.

"I didn’t mean to impose, but I thought it best to offer my condolences, formally introduce myself, ask that you may allow me to claim a house which I will transform into a shop and offer both of you a gift.”

As Ashe spoke, they rested a hand gently on the sack slung across their shoulder, where the two carefully wrapped statues lay hidden. They didn’t pull them out yet, waiting respectfully for the Prince and Princess to grant their permission.

Weighing Ashe’s request for a few moments, Flynn eyed the blight-born as he tried to make a snap decision about whether this one was a danger or not. Outwardly, they seemed threatening, yet their demeanor and respectful tone said otherwise. Flynn knew, however, that every blight-born was dangerous, even if they were well behaved. Not wanting to linger in the cold or allow Amaya to unravel further, he made a decision.

"I’ll grant you permission to claim a home for now, at least while we wait out this storm. However, we’ll need to revisit the matter. Our process includes an interview with my royal advisor to ensure the safety of all citizens in Dawnhaven and collect knowledge about your affliction," Flynn explained, his tone polite but firm on the matter—he would not be changing his mind on the process of things. “There are homes being built to the west of town and many that are currently empty. Take your choice.” Flynn continued, gesturing towards the road that led towards the developing residential area.

Amaya wanted to scream. The words the newcomer exchanged with Flynn were indistinct and blurry against the pounding of her heart in her ears, but from the slow cadence of their voice, they weren’t in a hurry either.

She tried not to focus on the icy bite of her magic as it travelled up her hand that she tried to hide. It crawled along her palm, encircling her wrist, turning on her own body as she refused to give it an outlet. To her horror, she began to shiver from the effects of her own frigid magic. She kept her eyes on Ashe’s face, though she wasn’t paying attention. Her expression was blank. But the signs were there for those who thought to look — the tremble of her slight body as she fought against leaning into the heat of either Flynn or Ashe. The way her breath became shallow and quick. Her hand tightened around Flynn’s in warning.

Feeling Amaya's hand begin to tremble, Flynn cast her a quick glance before returning his focus to Ashe, not wanting to draw attention to her growing discomfort. His concern for her grew and instinctively he wanted to pull her closer to him—to offer a hug for support and to share body warmth. Logically, he knew Amaya would rather kiss one of the livestock than be pulled into his embrace. Holding her hand had already been pushing the limit.

Subtly, Ashe allowed a gentle wave of warmth to radiate outward, the heat rising just enough to melt the falling snow as it touched the Prince and Princess. The warmth was enough to create a protective barrier, cutting through the frigid air. Ashe made sure to direct the heat so that it didn’t overwhelm but to offer a brief respite from the cold. The snowflakes sizzled as they met the invisible warmth, vanishing before they could settle.

Yet as the warmth spread, Ashe could feel the familiar strain of keeping their heat controlled, balancing between comfort and excess. Luckily, the cold storm helped ease the effort—nature itself cooling them just enough to maintain their fire without pushing them too far. There was no risk of overheating, for now.

As the warmth surrounding Ashe became more noticeable, Flynn’s thoughts pulled away from Amaya. Immediately, the Prince knew that this was Ashe’s doing. His emerald eyes locked with Ashe’s molten gaze for a few heartbeats, a silent shared look of understanding. Ashe may have thought that Amaya was simply cold, but Flynn appreciated the blight-born’s attempt to help regardless. Subtly, Flynn offered them a discreet nod of thanks.

Amaya blinked, surprise flickering across her face, as heat filled the space around them and began to seep into her skin. She still shivered — it would take a bit before her body realised it wasn’t going to freeze here, on this little road. But crystal by crystal, the ice coating her skin began to melt. Her magic still danced under her skin, too frenetic and great to be contained by her body. But as it searched for a seam to rip through into the world, as it leaked out of her fingertips, the ice couldn’t form. It instead coalesced into droplets of cool water against her skin. Amaya could feel the way the snow still fell in that same frantic blizzard, swirling around them. But when she finally let her eyes refocus, allowing herself to give attention to her immediate surroundings, she saw the snow melt away into faint tendrils of steam.

Her eyes flicked back to Ashe, and for the first time truly looked at them. They cut an intimidating, otherworldly figure, all charcoal and embers, with a large frame and glowing eyes. Amaya was still wary around blight-born, after eight years of horror stories and strife whispered into her ear by her father’s advisors. She didn’t know what made her more uneasy now — being so close to one that was clearly powerful, or that they had noticed her distress enough to apparently take it upon themselves to address it.

They made no mention of it. They weren’t even really looking at her. Somehow their polite discretion only made her more uncomfortable, in the same way Flynn’s patience had as he’d joked about the cracked bannister in their cabin.

The relief (and gratitude) that the new warmth provided was only a small part of the mixture of exhaustion, embarrassment, and frustration that swirled within her. Amaya hesitated a moment. Then she released her grip on Flynn, pulling away and drawing her hands behind her back. She tried to maintain her composure, unwilling to break any more than she already had.

As Amaya withdrew her hand from his, Flynn felt the emptiness of the loss, though he refrained from reacting, knowing she had already done enough for him by leaving the stage hand-in-hand. He turned his focus back to Ashe, eyeing the sack slung over their shoulder.

"The gift you mentioned—I appreciate the gesture, though it is not necessary. It’s my pleasure to grant you a place here." Flynn said, offering a faint smile, though the weight of the day hung heavily on his expression.

"It’s no problem at all, Your Highness. I understand how winter and other pressing matters might cause delays." They then glanced briefly at Amaya, noticing the slight tension still present in her demeanor. "Besides," Ashe added with a gentle wink in Amaya’s direction, "it seems winter has a way of distracting all of us."

Amaya had no idea how to react to a stranger winking at her – it had never happened before. Perhaps if she were less distracted by the many ways in which she was falling apart, she would’ve managed to do more than just give Ashe a startled look.

Turning back to Flynn, Ashe continued, "I’ve already found and claimed a house. Apologies for doing so without formal permission first, but it... called to me. Felt like the right place to begin Emberweaver." Their smile grew as they explained, "I’ll, of course, follow your process and agree to the interview. I understand why it’s necessary. After all, not all of us blight-born are as fortunate to have control over our transformations."

With a subtle shift, Ashe moved their hand to the sack on their shoulder, the faint glow of embers dancing under the cloth. "As for the gifts, they’re not just offerings. They’re a way for me to show what I’m capable of prior to the interview." With care, Ashe pulled out the first of the two statues—a radiant depiction of Aelios, the Sun Goddess, crafted from bright, golden flames. Her figure stood tall, her arms outstretched as if to embrace the world, the flames flickering around her. Every detail seemed alive, as though the fire itself had been sculpted to embody her radiant form.

Ashe extended the statue toward Flynn. "This, Your Highness, is the Sun Goddess in her full glory. Crafted over months, molded from flame itself." The golden flames danced along the statue’s edges but did not burn, their warmth subtle and contained. "For you."

After Flynn had taken the gift, Ashe reached into their sack once more, withdrawing a second statue—this one the depiction of Seluna, the Moon Goddess. The flames that formed this statue were a cool, silvery blue, reflecting the soft glow of moonlight. The statue of Seluna stood serene, her ethereal presence captured in the quiet beauty of the moon's radiance, her flames delicate and calming, casting gentle shadows. Ashe offered the second statue to Amaya with the same reverence.

The Princess couldn’t help but be captivated in spite of the raging storm she contained. She watched as the blue embers made solid still seemed to move and dance within the body of the Goddess – mirroring the flickering of her own magic beneath her skin. Something she couldn’t name seemed to loosen within her as she stared at it. Outside of their small cocoon of warmth, the blizzard slowed, ever so slightly.

"And for you, Your Highness," Ashe began, their voice softening with a touch of nostalgia, "the Moon Goddess, in all her quiet power. I spent years in Lunaris, crafting garments for the royal court. While they never bore my name, they were worn by many at your family's gatherings."

Her gaze shifted, her pale blue eyes meeting their vibrant orange. Amaya’s mind spun through fragmented memories of balls and ceremonies that seemed a lifetime away.

Ashe paused for a moment, the flames within their molten eyes flickering with fond memories of the past before their transformation. "It took months to perfect this statue. I wanted to capture not just the image of Seluna but the serenity and strength our kingdom stands for. I hope she brings you comfort in these difficult times, as a symbol of both Lunaris’ resilience and the quiet power your family has always embodied."

As Ashe presented the silvery-blue statue of Seluna, there was a reverence in their movements—a reflection of their own history intertwined with Lunaris, now offering a piece of it to the Princess.

Amaya hesitated, her hands tightening around each other behind her back as water beaded on her skin. She glanced up at Flynn, as if for confirmation.

She used to be so much better at this – at playing the role of the demure Princess, all charming glances and coy smiles, every vulnerability hidden behind a straight, poised spine. But she supposed that version of herself had lived nearly her entire life contained to the castle grounds. That version had perfected control over her magic. That version still had a mother.

Ashe’s molten eyes flickered softly as they presented the statues, standing respectfully as they awaited the royals' reactions.

When they present us with gifts, Amaya heard in her mother’s voice, it isn’t really for us. It’s for them, so they can honor a part of their identity.

Making a decision, Amaya flexed her control over her buzzing, overwhelming magic. Then with a flick of her hands, she cast the droplets from her skin, into the growing pool of melted snow behind her. Her magic surged at the release, flooding towards this small outlet. But Amaya was ready, using her waning strength to plug the dam and hold it back - even if the storm surrounding them intensified for a brief moment.

As the air grew colder and Amaya’s magic surged, Ashe instinctively let more heat radiate from their form, gently pushing back against the growing storm as if balancing her power. The snowflakes melted before reaching the ground, evaporating into faint tendrils of steam. Ashe could feel the strain of maintaining their warmth at such intensity, but they remained composed, not letting their control waver. The warmth extended toward both Amaya and Flynn, offering them a buffer against the cold without overwhelming them.

Before more water could pool against her dry hands, Amaya brought them forward to accept the statue. It was surprisingly light for something that spanned the length of her torso – and warm. Amaya felt the moisture in the air trying to pull towards her, only to be repelled by the statue’s heat. The colors flickered within, shades of blue and pearl mixing together in a swirling current. The dancing glow rippled onto her skin like moonlight off a lake as she looked back up at Ashe, lips parted.
Ashe’s molten eyes flickered softly, observing the royal couple’s reactions to the statues with the practised eye of a merchant. Amaya’s hesitation melted away as she accepted the statue of Seluna, the glowing flames reflecting moonlight onto her skin. Flynn’s expression, however, was more complicated. His gaze lingered on the radiant statue of Aelios, his fingers tracing the golden flames with a mix of awe and restraint. Ashe watched carefully, noting every subtle shift in their posture, their expressions, gauging the effect their work had on these two powerful figures. The reactions were telling—Amaya’s initial apprehension softening into admiration, while Flynn’s neutrality masked something deeper.
Before Flynn could fully process his thoughts, a loud gasp from behind startled him.

“ASHE!”

Amaya flinched. She shifted closer to Flynn unconsciously, their arms brushing as her hold over her magic strained.

Flynn turned to see Eris, the sage of Dawnhaven, approaching quickly, draped in a fiery coat of ember threads—the very same kind of intricate weaving that seemed to hold together the Goddess of flame he now held in his hands.

Amaya’s eyes widened as Eris entered their bubble of warmth. Her pulse began to spike, because no no no, absolutely not. It was bad enough that Flynn had seen her lose control of her magic when he could barely cast. She could not lose her grip in front of his Lead Sage.

“Did you make those too?!” Eris asked with wide-eyed excitement, her gaze darting between the statues Flynn and Amaya held. She turned to Flynn, striking a pose to show off her flaming coat. “Look!” she exclaimed, twirling slightly. “This—Ashe made this too! Isn’t it the most incredible item you’ve ever seen, Flynn?”

The Prince’s name slipped out before Eris even realized what she had done. Her eyes widened, and a flush of embarrassment quickly crept up her cheeks. She stammered, suddenly flustered. “Er—I—Your Highness, I mean,” she corrected herself, her voice faltering as she cast a nervous glance between Flynn and Amaya and bowed her head to them respectfully, mentally kicking herself for the formality slip-up.

Amaya’s fingers tightened around the statue, as she felt a sharp pang of… sadness? Envy? Self consciousness? It was hard to identify, just another ache added to this awful day. She returned Eris’ bow with a small nod as she desperately wished for Elara.

Surprised, Ashe’s eyes flicked briefly toward the source, finding Eris hurrying toward them, draped in the fiery coat they had crafted. The enthusiasm in her voice was unmistakable as she twirled, showing off the glowing garment. Ashe offered her a polite bow of acknowledgement, but they kept their primary focus on the Prince and Princess—after all, this moment was for them. Eris's excitement was infectious, and though Ashe appreciated her words, the royalty before them remained the priority.

Flynn blinked, taking a moment to study the coat, unphased by Eris’s familiarity. His eyes briefly shifted from Eris to the coat, its embers dancing yet causing no harm to her. It was incredible, just as Eris had said. There was no denying Ashe’s talent.

"I see my work is already making an impression," Ashe said with a faint smile, acknowledging Eris's enthusiasm but keeping their tone measured, still aware of the formality of the situation. When Flynn’s gaze returned to them, Ashe’s attention locked onto the Prince’s expression.

For a moment, Flynn's gaze lingered on Eris's coat, appreciating its craftsmanship. But then his eyes returned to the face of Aelios—the Goddess who had sentenced him to death. He couldn’t help but to think that every day from now on, he would have to look at this reminder—a cruel joke cloaked in beauty.

His expression remained neutral, though his mind buzzed. The statue was undeniably beautiful, an exquisite creation that radiated warmth both physically and emotionally. Glancing over at Amaya, who was now holding the cool, silvery-blue statue of Seluna, Flynn wondered if she too felt as awkward as he did with this new constant reminder of their fate.

Holding Aelios closer, letting its heat seep into his fingers, Flynn met Ashe’s gaze again. “Thank you, truly,” Flynn said, his voice genuine. “I’ve never received anything so thoughtful before. This is… remarkable. You seem to be quite the craftsman.”

"No, I thank you, Your Highness," Ashe replied, their voice deep and steady. "Your words are gracious, and I am honored by them." There was a clear note of pride in Ashe’s tone, knowing their work had struck a chord with the prince.

"As for my craft...my family has served as tailors for the court of Lunaris for generations, and I have been perfecting my craft for longer than you've been alive, Your Highness." Ashe’s molten eyes flickered with a mix of nostalgia, satisfaction and pride, their words carrying the weight of years of experience. "Even in this new form, I hold onto that legacy through my creations and strive to improve upon in."

Ashe’s gaze shifted to Amaya, their eyes glowing softly in the cold air. "And you, Your Highness? What do you think? Might this be to Your Highness’s satisfaction?" Their voice was respectful, but there was a quiet confidence in the way they asked, genuinely interested in the Princess's thoughts on their work.

Amaya blinked up at Ashe, caught off guard at being asked directly. She looked down at the statue of Seluna, the roiling color and rippling glow. Then something clicked into place:

A desperate need to not be here.

Amaya flexed old muscles, atrophied in the two months she’d spent away from the capital.

Her expression melted into a soft smile, stained with just enough exhaustion to seem genuine as she looked back up at them. Her heart still thundered in her chest. Her magic still threatened to tear its way out of her body.

“Your work speaks for itself.” It was the first thing she’d said since her mother’s eulogy. It was soft, but she thanked the moon that it didn’t sound as strained as she felt. “I’m sure we’ll see more of your craftsmanship throughout Dawnhaven soon. Thank you for the gift.”

An answer that was not an answer. A smile that was not hers. Amaya could do nothing but rely on muscle memory as she fought to keep her composure.

“But you all must forgive me,” she said, glancing at the other faces present. “I’m afraid I must excuse myself – it’s been a full day already, and it’s made me awful company.” She turned her attention to Flynn, with possibly the least hostile look she’d ever given him. “I’ll see myself to the cabin.” Turning back to Ashe, she gave them a polite nod. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” In a blizzard. After the proclamation of her mother’s death. While in the midst of several different types of breakdowns. As her talkative husband carried on with them like Amaya hadn’t been on the verge of freezing herself solid.

Ashe offered a respectful nod, molten eyes flickering with understanding. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Your Highness. I appreciate your words and understand that you’ve had quite a full day. I hope the statue brings you some comfort in these difficult times."

Amaya didn’t respond, instead giving Eris another nod. “Sage Hightower.”

She stepped away from the group, her nerves balancing on a razor’s edge beneath her careful poise.

As Amaya excused herself, half of the guards began to break off from their positions, following her steps to ensure her protection as she made her way to the cabin. Flynn stood frozen for a moment, his eyes darting between Amaya, Ashe, and Eris.

"Ah—" he stammered, the urgency of the situation finally catching up to him. He cleared his throat, turning to Ashe and Eris. "I, uhm… I must take my leave as well. Ashe, thank you again for the gifts. I’ll arrange your interview soon." Flynn’s gaze briefly flicked over to Eris, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I’m glad you seem to have made a new friend, Miss Hightower."

Without waiting for further reply, Flynn hurried off, the radiant Aelios statue held close in his hands.

Ashe turned their attention back to Flynn even as he was leaving, giving him a steady gaze. "Thank you again, Your Highness. I am at your disposal whenever you’re ready to arrange the interview."

Eris stood still, watching as Flynn and Amaya retreated into the swirling snow with their entourage of guards. The abruptness of their departure left her feeling momentarily out of place. Her gaze followed them as they disappeared into the snow, Eris’s mind running with ideas about how Amaya was currently feeling. Of course, Eris couldn’t know, but she could empathise. The Princess had been quiet since they had arrived in Dawnhaven, but Eris didn’t blame her—especially now.

Recalling Flynn’s comment, Eris began to smile. A friend? A blight-born friend?It felt too early to say. She had only just met Ashe, after all, but there was a certain comfort in their presence, despite the fiery blight-born’s intimidating appearance. Their calm demeanour, their ability to create such incredible works of art, and Eris’s thirst for knowledge had certainly helped ease her initial nerves.

“Those statues were extraordinary." Eris said softly, turning towards Ashe. “I’m sure the Prince and Princess will cherish them.” She paused, taking a moment to view the growing storm beyond the comfort of Ashe’s warmth. "I should get inside too. This warmth of yours is wonderful, but I don’t want to be a bother."

Once the royals had taken their leave, Ashe turned their attention toward Eris, a small smile crossing their lips at her compliment. "I do hope they cherish them, and with this storm out here? I can hold out the heat for days." they replied, molten eyes glowing softly as they watched the swirling storm outside the warmth of their flame.

With a final nod and a soft smile, Eris turned to leave, feeling the cold bite at her skin the moment she exited the warm pocket of air Ashe provided. “I’ll make sure to give this back to you—someday.” She called back to him, her smile turning into a mischievous smirk. “You might just have to pry it from my hands though!” she said playfully before turning back on her path, hugging the treasured coat closer to her body.

As Eris began to walk away, Ashe let out a warm laugh at her playful remark. "Pry it from your hands, eh? Well, I could always just melt them off." Their voice held a teasing edge as they watched her disappear into the snowy night, the fiery coat still wrapped tightly around her form.

As Eris walked, her thoughts lingered on the Aelios statue Flynn had been gifted. How much would a statue like that cost if she asked Ashe to make another? The idea swirled in her mind, a small thrill of excitement settling in her chest as she thought of all the places she could put it in her own home.

"Take care, Eris. Stay warm." Ashe called after her, their eyes following her retreating figure until she was lost in the flurries.

As Eris disappeared into the distance, Ashe stood for a moment, allowing the cold to swirl around them before turning on their heel. Their eyes scanned the town of Dawnhaven, the snow continuing to fall heavily, but the heat radiating from their body melted it before it could land.
With a purposeful stride, Ashe began making their way toward Emberweaver, the house they had claimed and would soon transform into a workshop. As they walked, the flickering glow of their flames illuminated the path ahead, casting soft light on the surrounding snow that was melting as they passed. The idea of setting up shop here in Dawnhaven filled Ashe with anticipation.
"Time to get some work done." they muttered to themselves, the weight of the day's events fading into the background as their focus shifted to the future—crafting, creating, and making their mark on this town. The familiar warmth of the ember threads they would soon spin into new creations lingered in their thoughts as they neared the door to their new home, ready to dive back into their craft.

_{Mentions: @The Muse's Eris and Prince Flynn & @c3p-0h’s Amaya}

Paladice glanced over his shoulder, watching as the prince and princess continued along their way, alongside their guards. He thought he momentarily saw the princess turn to look back.

While the interaction had been brief, it was telling him plenty just what kind of person Flynn was. His behaviour on the stage was entirely different to how he had just appeared. With such a heavy burden parted unto him, perhaps it was not an odd thing. But he wasn't the only one who had to bear a burden, at least the princess would be carrying it as well. Although the burdens would come in different ways. As they always did.

Not all pieces upon the great board could move however they pleased.

Prince Flynn was indeed a different person when he stood upon the stage than how he was off it. It almost felt like he wanted to run. As if he wanted to run away from a destiny someone else had decided for him. The warrior-monk could understand this fully, after all.. he had been the same.

Although with some clear differences. When it came to the princess she had seemingly allowed the prince to lead the way. An odd sight considering what kind of man her father was, but perhaps she had inherited the other traits of her late mother.

Perhaps that was for the better of everyone involved. No doubt there would be both more questions and answers to be had later. The blonde was intending to speak with them both again. Alone. It would be crucial, or the fate of the world would be to burn…

Patience was the key. Perhaps even a greater key than the prophesied child that was to mend the world.

The warrior-monk began to walk away from the path, tracing along the outer parts of Dawnhaven when the weather took a turn for the worse.

'Tch. Pestersome winter.' He thought and narrowed his eyes, his hood blowing off causing his blonde hair to flow freely in the wind, and that's when he noticed someone far off in the distance, away from the buildings. Someone was out wandering through the snowy storm?

'Oh? Some unfortunate soul out there alone left for the wolves? Like I was...' He thought and looked to the sky. 'Some men flee from the looming doom, others charge towards it in complete defiance. I will write my story ending myself. Watch my defiance and despair goddesses!' Paladice began to move out into the deeper snow towards the figure in the distance, he raised his leather glove and called forth a gout of flame in his hand and used it to reach out from his hand, as if making a large hand of fire, then he show it through the sky from where he walked hurriedly through the deep snow.

"Over here! This way!" He yelled as he got closer, knowing that he had to yell many times the same line, the wind doing its best to silence him.

He rushed over through the snow towards the slow moving figure, trying to get a view of who the person was. Knowing fully well it could be a hostile blightborn. The warrior-monk wasn't a born native to the Lunaris climate, while he had lived in the land, it was still not something he could get used to or enjoy. 'Wretched wind, wretched winter. Wretched snow witch.' He mentally cursed Seluna and pressed forwards "Who goes there?! Dawnhaven is this way! Need a hand?!" He yelled out as he got closer, now being able to see the snow-drenched person in front of him.

Tia was exhausted. She was cold. She moved forward inch by inch on unsteady legs. All the while, snow obscured her vision, an opaque white fog that swallowed her whole –

– an opaque purple fog sitting heavy on the land in the distance. It loomed like a spectre, waiting to consume.

Her teeth chattered in her head. She couldn’t feel her limbs. The weight of her own robes bore down on her, heavy with a thick layer of snow –

– with a thick layer of blood, a crimson so deep it was nearly black as it saturated the fabric.

Her voice was gone.

Her voice was gone.

Tia squinted through the storm. Something glowed in the distance – golden and warm. Her last dredges of energy pushed her towards it.

Help.

Beneath the glow was a figure, dark fabric billowing around them. They were fighting through the snow to try and get to her.

Please.

She nearly collapsed into the person – a man, her sluggish brain realized – when they finally reached her.

Paladice had acted quickly, reaching out to try catch her before she would fall into the snow. The warrior-monk reached for her face with one of his gloved hands, as if trying to cup her cheek to get a view of her face, to see if she was responsive and hanging in there. But also to see who she was. "Keep your hands in your clothes! This one-man carriage is taking off right now!" He said in a reassuring tone of voice, before taking off his cloak and attaching it around her. He then raised his left hand towards the direction of which he had come , he had made sure to walk in a straight line as much as he could. He then channelled his magic and shot out a line of fire from his hand, aiming straight ahead with as much force as he could muster. The fire wouldn't last long, but that was fine. He only needed it to carve a path through the snow and make the pathway easier.

"Excuse me!" He said aloud and then attempted to swoop Tia up into his arms into a princess carry, whilst neatly wrapped into his cape. Time was important, it was about time this piece on the board to move. "My my you are quite light! Keep your eyes open! This will be over soon!" He said with a reassuring look on his face, looking at her face before he started to quickly move forwards, following the line he had made with his fire spell. The sooner they would be out of the blistering cold the better, the more he moved the more heat he would produce on his own and ward off the chill.

'This girl won't last long in this cold, and if I take too long, I will join her. Not going to happen you petty goddesses! Bring it forth. Try to stop me if you can!' He mentally issued his challenge, not knowing if anything would hear him. But to him it didn't matter, he would aid this woman which fate had attempted to play a cruel ploy upon. His blue eyes would look down to her eyes from time to time to check on her, he had to make sure she wouldn't go unconscious no matter what.

Tia clung to him, shivering under the layers of cloth and snow. But he was warm, as he commanded the fire. Her dark eyes fluttered, energy giving out as her body lost the urge to fight through the cold.

“T…temple…” Her rasping voice was almost inaudible in the wind.

"Hm?" Paladice glanced down, as best as he could, whilst being barraged by the snow, his hair now being fully swept backwards and for the most part with snow and ice all over it. His ears were taking much of the brunt of the chilling wind and his face, but his hands and feet were doing fine. The missing cloak did however expose his body to the cold more, but on the other hand, less air-resistance on his way forwards.

'Temper?' He pondered, what about his temper? That's what she said, no? Or did she try to mention the temperature? Well, he couldn't stop and ponder it. He rushed forwards, carrying Tia and making sure he didn't make any accidental steps or slipped. He was a trained acrobat and a monk, if there was someone in the world able to keep his balance. It had to be him.

Soon he could make out the silhouettes of buildings ahead. Temporary salvation from the biting cold. He did feel some relief, but the buildings were not the same ones he had departed from. The one which caught his attention looked like a more formal building.

'A temple? I see the goddesses have a sense of humour after all. I suppose we shall have a little truce for now.' He grunted as he thought about stepping into a temple again, as that was indeed what the building looked like. It had been many years since he had been in one or something like it. The monks very seldomly left the monastery, and when they did it was to acquire supplies or pray at the temple. How he despised being forced to accompany them to it.

But that was then. It was time to focus on the present. These sorts of temples usually had braziers or places where they would heat up the buildings in question, there was no choice. He had to step into one of the den of sins, the other one being the inn.

He made his way with hurried steps up to the building, momentarily letting Tia down, but leaning down to hold her steady as he opened the door and stepped inside, helping her lean on him. Then he used his foot to close the door behind them. The temple was alright. For a temple. There was a big fire lit. Perfect.

The blonde man, who now sported icy hair looked over Tia, smiling softly before picking her up again, carrying her over to the fire and putting her down. "I'll be right back." He said softly in a reassuring tone as he went to relentlessly search for any blankets within the place. Once having found a couple, the warrior-monk returned to the young woman.

They were both afflicted by the cold, they had to discard the outer layers of their attire. As Paladice quickly took off his gauntlets and his breastplate, which normally was quite cool, but now it was like wearing ice itself. He gave his arms a few stretches and then looked over at Tia. He had to show her that they had to momentarily discard their snow covered clothing.

There wasn't time. He took off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and the large tattoo on his chest depicting an alchemical symbol. The blue eyed warrior swiftly moved over to help Tia take off her coat, boots and outerwear. Leaving her wearing a base layer robe which was still dry. He then put one of the blankets on the floor, urging her to sit on it close to the fire, while placing the other over her shoulders. Lastly he grimaced at the blanket he was left with himself. How many pretentious priests had cuddled with it? He didn't know. He didn't care. They had made it. So far.

"What's your name? I go by the name of Gadez Paladice…" He said in a soft, slightly weary tone. The use of his fire spell, wandering through the blizzard and having to carry Tia had done a great job at tiring him. Or perhaps it was the thought of being in one of the homes of Aelios? The blonde reached out for her hand, trying to feel it. “Still cold?”

Tia melted into the blanket, nearly blinded with relief. She was still shivering violently, but the temple was warm. She didn’t have the presence of mind to be embarrassed at this stranger undressing her, seeing the wicked scars that were carved along her neck.

“Tingara Tomae,” she breathed out. Her name was a soft, broken sound that fractured in the air. She turned her gaze to look at him, finally. But she was so exhausted, she had to fight to get her eyes to focus on him. “Tia… Thank you.”

“Tia? Such a defining name, as defining as the marks upon your neck. I have a mark myself. Although mine is self-inflicted." He seemed genuinely intrigued, then moved his hand over to the tattoo on his chest, then reached over with his hand towards her neck. Seeking to softly trace two of his fingers along her scar, before ending his fingertip under her chin. "Your name.. it means princess, or goddess.. depending on which interpretation one goes by. In our world, we all interpret things differently." He smiled softly, his blue eyes staring into hers.

Tia froze as she felt his fingers trace her scars, breath stopping in her throat. All she could do was stare back at him, her dark eyes meeting his.

That is not what your name means, her mother’s voice whispered to her in a language she hadn’t heard in years. Tia’s hand tightened around the little ring that she’d been clutching since the lake. Then she tilted her head away from his touch, gaze shifting from stunned to apprehensive. She looked at him — really looked at him, with his athletic build and his tattoo… but most of all, his piercing, searching eyes.

And then she looked away, turning her gaze to the crackling fire of Aelios. But her attention stayed on Gadez.

"I hope my appearance doesn't unsettle you? I have seen various blightborn within Dawnhaven. A one-eyed one, a wandering living torch and someone with blazing eyes. I suppose I do stand out a bit." He chuckled softly as he moved a hand up to adjust his hair which was slowly becoming less frozen, the melted water trailing down his chest in droplets.

"But then again, so do you. That isn't a bad thing. Perhaps someday you'll tell me how you received that scar, or that ring upon your finger? Among other things. Such as what drove you out into the snowy storm?" He smiled softly and his eyes wandered over Tia from top to toe, he liked what he saw. The young woman was striking his curiosity. What in the world was she doing out in the snow alone? How did she manage to survive whatever caused that scar? This one was extraordinary.

"I will tell you a few stories later, if you wish. I suspect this storm may last for a while. The fire may be pretty to gaze into, yet I think there's something far prettier in here than it." He looked Tia over and then turned to the fire and closed his eyes, his mouth corner turning upwards slightly.

Tia listened as his voice mixed with the popping embers, all the while feeling his gaze on her. It was… unsettling. Oddly familiar, in a way she couldn’t place. Guilt swam through her. This man had possibly saved her life, and now she wanted to escape a conversation with him. Perhaps he was just odd. Odd and harmless. His words were benign enough (if a bit… bold) but something about him had her nerves spinning.

Her scar tingled where he’d dragged his fingers along it.

She glanced at him, relieved to find that he’d closed his eyes. Biting her lip, she turned back to the fire, and hoped the storm passed soon – if only so she wouldn’t have to find out what her savior saw when he looked at her.

Catching up to Amaya, Flynn fell into step beside her, his body language reading a bit more tense than it had been on stage—the mask beginning to falter.

"I’m sorry," Flynn muttered softly, his tone laced with guilt as he glanced over at Amaya. She gave no indication that she’d even heard him. He knew he had taken far too long to wrap up that conversation, despite feeling it was the right thing to do from the citizen’s perspective. As they neared the cabin, Flynn quickened his pace slightly to reach the door first.

"Thank you for your escort," he said to the guards as they stopped outside, then turned to hold the door open for Amaya, his eyes drifting down to her hands. He watched for any sign of her magic—water pooling at her fingertips, mist forming in the air, ice crawling along her skin. As far as he could tell, there was nothing.

Amaya managed to control herself until she heard the latch of the door slide closed behind her. And then she fell apart.

The flickering statue of Seluna gave a dull thud as it hit the floorboards, and Amaya’s hand shot out to connect with the wall beside her. Magic flooded out of her like grief, painting the cabin wall with the complex geometry of ice. A layer of frost coated the wood in a wide swath from her hand, expanding until the last edges of ice nearly touched the ceiling.

When Amaya came back to herself, she was gasping. She was barely holding herself up against the wall, her hand embedded in a thin layer of ice against it. There were tears on her face. Her whole body shook, her other hand splayed against her stomach as her breath escaped in puffs of white.

She squeezed her eyes shut, eyebrows pulling together as she tried to fight for control – but it was a losing battle, now that she’d opened the floodgates. She couldn’t stop the way her ragged breath tore through her body, couldn’t keep more tears from streaming down her face as her own treacherous emotions tried to drown her.

Flynn froze in place as the temperature of the room plummeted, watching in stunned silence as the frost crept up the walls, his body tense from the sudden outburst. The sound of the latch had barely faded before Amaya’s magic exploded from her like a torrent of grief, freezing everything in its path. His gaze darted to Amaya, her form trembling against the wall, struggling to steady herself. His heart twisted.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. The memory of her rejecting his attempts to comfort her when they learned about her mother’s death flashed in his mind. The last time he’d reached out to hold her, she had recoiled from him like his touch burned. He had failed her then, and the sting of that failure still hung over him. But now… he couldn’t just stand there, not when she was barely holding herself together.

Gently placing the statue of Aelios on a nearby table, Flynn cautiously moved toward her from behind, angling himself slightly to the side so he could see her face. His heart pounded in his chest, his brow furrowed in deep worry as he tried to close the distance without alarming her.

When he reached her, his hand hovered for a split second of hesitation before he gently placed it on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch. “Amaya...” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. The warmth of his palm offered little contrast to the frigid atmosphere. He searched her expression, trying to gauge what she needed from him—whether his presence was a comfort or an intrusion.

“Breathe in deep," he instructed softly, his gaze locked onto her expression as he listened to her ragged breathing. "Focus on your breath—slow and steady." He took a deep breath with her, his mind racing as he tried to remember all the different techniques he had been taught to control his own magic. It was something like meditation, meant to center and control the chaotic energy that buzzed beneath the surface. He wished Eris were here to provide better instruction.

Amaya’s world shrank. There was only the chill wrapped around her body, the numbness of her hand against the wall, and –

The warmth of Flynn’s palm against her shoulder. His voice was so close as he murmured to her softly. It was an alien feeling, to have someone else sharing this tiny world she’d enclosed herself within. But everything was too raw, too overwhelming to be examined.

She tried to focus on his words through the roar of her emotions. But when she sucked in a breath, it was like her body was too full. There was no room for air. She couldn’t control her lungs, or the shallow, harsh gasps that escaped her.

"I'm here… Just breathe." he said, his voice calm and steady, though his expression of worry was unmistakable. The instinct to pull her into an embrace was almost overpowering, but he held back, remembering all too well how badly things had gone the last time. Instead, he remained patient, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, hoping that just being there to offer her space to fall apart if she needed, would be enough. His concern deepened as the ice continued to grow, as though her magic was pushing to break free in a way that unsettled him. Amaya’s magic was volatile, and so was her grief.

Finally, one Amaya’s frantic gasps pulled her voice with it, in a sharp, pained sound. A hand clamped over her mouth. Amaya shrank in on herself even more, like she could fold herself away. All the while, ice continued to creep its way along the wall, claiming more of the cabin.

She wanted her mother.

But instead it was her father’s voice she heard, cold and derisive.

How easily you fall to pieces.

Amaya opened her eyes.

She was looking at the floor. The small drops where her tears had landed were frozen coins of ice against the hardwood. Something else started to bleed into her grief – anger. Amaya’s hand tightened against her mouth, willing herself to get back under control and stop embarrassing herself.

Amaya didn’t know how long she stood there, wrestling with her emotions as her body shook and ice climbed up the ceiling. But all the while, Flynn’s hand stayed on her shoulder. His voice murmured quietly to her. She tried (and failed) to pretend he wasn’t here, witnessing all of this. She tried not to focus on the warmth of his hand.

Flynn’s eyes squeezed shut, a dull ache spreading through his chest as he listened to Amaya’s hiccups and gasping breaths. It felt like her pain was his own, a visceral, unrelenting pressure weighing him down. Her pain was difficult to witness, and helplessness gnawed at him, making him feel utterly powerless to ease any of her suffering.

Finally, when she’d carefully put all her shattered pieces away and her breath was even with only a few stuttering hiccups, Amaya dropped her hand from her mouth. She sniffled.

Gritting his teeth, Flynn steadied himself, searching for calm within the storm of emotions. He focused inward, reaching for the chaotic tangle of magic inside him—magic he hadn’t tapped into in far too long. Slowly, he pulled at the threads of his fire magic, coaxing warmth to the surface. His hand, resting on her shoulder, began to glow faintly with heat. The warmth spread from his palm, attempting to wrap her in a soft blanket of heat, though it was being fought off by the frigid magic that continually leaked from Amaya. Flynn knew this would exhaust him, but in the moment, it didn’t matter.

She felt hollow. She turned her head to finally look at the wall. It was nearly completely covered in ice. Another hiccup shook her.

Amaya couldn’t feel her hand anymore. The ice around it had melted and frozen and melted again, over and over so it now formed a rippling, glass-like shell around her hand.

Flynn’s gaze shifted to her hand, encased in the jagged layers of ice. He was about to raise his fire-infused hand to melt it when her voice broke through.

“Open the door.” Her voice came out in a broken, emotionless whisper.

Flynn froze for a moment, glancing at the door. He knew the royal guards were stationed just outside, enduring the blizzard in short, rotating shifts. "Are you sure?" He asked, his voice filled with concern. "The guards—"

He trailed off, watching her, but her silence spoke volumes. Worried she was on the verge of frostbite, he shifted his attention back to her hand first. Gently lifting his palm from her shoulder, he hovered his hand just above the ice trapping her. Slowly, the ice began to melt under the warmth he fed into the air. It took longer than usual, her magic still spilling out like a relentless flood. Flynn felt it—how hard it was to keep up, to balance the energy without exhausting himself completely. It had been so long since he’d used his magic—he felt rusty, clumsy, like he was forcing a muscle to work that had long atrophied.

Something about his slowness, his gentleness, only fueled her anger — like she was a frail child that needed to be coddled. Even as her body wanted to pull towards his warmth, she grit her teeth and focused on her hand.

As the last bit of ice melted away, freeing her hand, Flynn glanced at her again, meeting her gaze. She looked at him with such force, such fury in her expression, as if daring him to question her again.

Stepping back, he settled his hand on the door handle. His eyes locked on hers, silently asking for one last confirmation. Her glare only hardened, the answer clear—she wasn’t going to repeat herself. Without another word, Flynn opened the door, the cold air rushing in.

Amaya flexed her hand, phantom needles piercing it as blood flowed again. And then in a swift motion, she raised it and pulled.

She’d been a skilled magic user before her world fell to pieces. Precise. Logical. Creative, with whatever shortcomings she’d possessed. But what she had in skill and practice, she lacked in sheer power.

But the world had changed much, since then. And her magic begged to be used.

Pulling from the well of magic in her that always seemed to overflow now, Amaya grabbed hold of the frost coating the inside of the cabin. Her specialty had always been turning water to ice, manipulating it to her will. She’d always known how to freeze better than she could thaw. But Amaya grabbed hold of the ice now, forcing it back into fluidity. It was water just long enough to pull away from the wall before freezing itself again, still in motion. Shards of ice shot through the air, past Amaya and Flynn, out the door, to bury themselves in the growing layer of snow in front of the cabin. The guards shouted in surprise. A stray shard flew too close to her hand, slicing a thin line of crimson that burned in the frigid air. It burned like clarity.

The tears were gone from her face, tracks of dried salt crystals marking her skin.

Staring out at the winter world beyond the door, Amaya let out a slow, shaking breath. It filled the air in a white fog. Her face was carefully neutral again. Her hands still shook. She was still empty. But the frantic storm of her magic had quieted to a dull hum.

She didn’t look at Flynn as she turned away from the door and began walking towards the stairs.

Flynn flinched as ice daggers shot past his face, their sharp edges too close for comfort. For a split second, he expected her to impale him and bury him beneath the same storm she’d unleashed on the walls. As the shards buried themselves in the snow and dirt outside, his heart pounded as he locked eyes with one of the guards who had shouted in alarm.

“Prince? Everything alright, Sir?” The guard’s hand moved for his weapon, clearly worried and on edge. Flynn gave a sharp nod, forcing himself to appear calm, though he was sure everything was not alright. Slowly, he closed the door, shutting out the guard's confused expression and the winter storm beyond.

He turned just in time to see Amaya walk away, her face devoid of emotion. His chest tightened as he watched her, the ache of helplessness returning. “Amaya…” His voice wavered, unsteady. He paused, searching for the right words, his mind racing in a thousand directions. “What… What can I do to help?”

It felt like a feeble offering, but it was all he had.

As he waited for her answer, the warm glow from his hand began fading as he withdrew his magic, the tendrils retreating back inside him like the dying embers of a fire. Exhaustion swept over him in a heavy wave, making his limbs feel sluggish.

Amaya paused on the steps at the sound of his voice. She didn’t mean to. But something in her, cold and small, ached for that warmth. His voice echoed in her mind, soft and close. She didn’t let herself look back at him. The cut on her hand stung in the open air, blood drawing a bright line where it dripped down her hand.

“I wish to be alone.”

When she made it up to her room, she closed the door behind her.

Flynn stood still, watching as Amaya ascended the stairs, a dull sense of defeat settling in his chest. He let out a slow, controlled breath, not daring to call after her again.

His thoughts drifted to his younger years—those long, familiar days spent looking after his younger siblings. Back then, it had been so easy to know what to do, how to soothe their tears and ease their worries. But here, with Amaya, he felt completely out of place.

Despite the exhaustion that tugged at him, he forced himself to move, making his way to the hearth in the living quarters. Kneeling, he carefully stacked logs into the fireplace, and then with a final flicker of his dwindling magic, lit the kindling. The fire crackled to life, casting shadows across the cabin.

He sat down in front of the flames, staring into the light as it danced, his hands outstretched to warm them. The howling winds of the blizzard outside sounded distant, muffled by the quiet that had settled inside the cabin. Flynn’s thoughts spun in circles, wondering how long the storm would last, both the one outside and the one brewing inside Amaya.

---

---

For seven long days, the blizzard had roared over Dawnhaven, an unrelenting force of nature that piled snow upon the trees, houses, and streets, sealing everyone inside their homes. The howling winds seemed endless, drowning out any attempt at communication beyond the walls of the town. The streets were abandoned, as no one dared venture out into the storm. Guards took short rotating shifts, braving the brutal cold and conserving precious firewood as they huddled together, trying to stay warm while protecting the town as best they could. Blight-born who could withstand such harsh weather proved to be highly useful, keeping watch where the humans could not.

Now, a week later, the storm has finally begun to ease. Around three feet of snow blankets the town, with many snowdrifts built up along buildings. The winds, once fierce and biting, have died down to a gentle breeze. The snowfall has slowed, though it hasn't stopped completely. The streets, once impassable, were now being cleared by the guards who shoveled diligently, making way for the eager citizens who had been trapped indoors for days on end.

As the snow is cleared, another unit of Aurelian guards move through Dawnhaven, lighting torches along the roads. As they make their way from door to door, they announce that everyone is welcome to gather outside the Eye of the Beholder for a warm meal, generously provided by the Prince and Princess to celebrate the end of Dawnhaven's first blizzard of the season. It’s a moment of much-needed relief and community, after days spent isolated in the cold.

Slowly but surely, people begin to emerge from their homes, bundled up in thick coats and scarves. They make their way to the Eye of the Beholder, where a large bonfire blazes outside, casting a welcoming glow. Around the fire, hot soup and steaming bowls of stew are passed around, the savory scents filling the air. Laughter and conversation flow freely, as the townsfolk—grateful to be together again—share in the warmth of community, and the joy of having survived the storm.

Though the storm hasn't fully passed, Dawnhaven feels alive once again.

[Centre][/Centre

Lord Coswain had been busy trying to help them prepare for blizzard and he was caped in snow by the time of his return. Persephone had been napping by the time he returned so he just kissed her forehead and changed quietly out of the sodden kit before heading downstairs to get a meal and something for her.

The Lunarian guards had done their best and most able to try and help the Auralian guards and civilians to face the coming blizzard. He did wonder what that over zealous Lord would do, and he didn't care how he survived the weather, his servants though he had more worry for, he would let them die while he remained warm and snug. The worst kind and most dangerous of them, the kind who believed they were practically gods themselves.

“Done ma best to help the road post, You alight Daph, you help her out” Hector said as he himself returned himself worse for the storm that was blowing quite white and only just starting out. “Good enough old man, she will make it even if not ideal. Damn cold.” The tall amazonian woman said from close to the fire, warming up her hands and shedding her heavy cloak that was soaked though from the storm's wrath.

“your the giraffe”Hector said, the woman towered a good 5 inches over the stocky bearded one-eyed warsmith but he gave as good as he got.

“Dwarf…you're stocky and have a beard too. Fiona was decent for an Auralan, that Lord is a peice of work they were labouring into the storm even as we headed in.” She shook her head at such things, the Temple…Inn.. their there places to shelter and they laboured in the dead of cold winter's night.

“Most we can do, she tried to knock him out. Sorey to say she missed.” Coswain laughed at the memory, sure he made a enemy but frankly he did not care and he seriously doubted anyone who talked that much had the friends he did… those how did tended to speak softly and be very different to him. Real power just found them annoying.

“Oh… I like her already. Just proves I was right.” Daphne said as she tucked into a meal of roast meat and some gravy. Best not ask what animal but it was hot and filling. She found the woman to be a bit crass but decent and seemed to have some morals if she was so offended by him. She was curious.

“Just stay out of trouble so I not have to arrest you. “ Coswain said as they took a seat near the fire to eat together. The windows and shutters were shut down tight already, bars across and prepared as best they could be. The small Mistress of the Inn with her distinctive single eye seemed a little off and headed away quickly upstairs.

…

The storm's wrath was not spent quickly and they alternated duties of keeping the fires stocked and fed, helping the Baker out to keep busy. Persephone had even treated them to fresh cookies which had never been unwelcome, fearsome she was, a good Baker she also was. The innkeeper they were told has taken ill so they did best to keep their slice of warmth and comfort exactly so,

It was not most tidy, clean or so but they were surviving and honestly well provisioned to last out the storm. The snows did not break on the 3rd night, or even the 4th and they fell into an easy routine. The chess board downstairs saw A Lot of use.

The news of the Queen's death had all them rattled and a lot of quiet talks and such Took place doing their best to make sense of things, events and what it meant for them and their futures.

What did this even mean for them, the town and everything agreed? Power was changing rapidly and everything would change.

They heard a knocking and found on the 7th day, the storm had finally ended to the point that the people could leave. Someone had enquired after Sya but they told her she was ill, apparently her ability was in demand and several calls had been made knowing she would likely see through the storm.

They headed out , Daphne was strangely happy and heading out ahead of them, Sya was not there.. she would be down when she felt better. Persephone gave an odd smile and followed, she had strange visions that night, ones she could not explain? Dreams… but not.. something reality? Persephone had no idea.

They headed into the outside the fire burning hot food on tables and it seemed from the noise in the kitchen. The Inn was firing back up and seemed to be busy to take advantage of the coming burst in trade. Firewood was being moved in quickly and it seemed the ovens were burning hard. People were making the most of it.

“Let's go, I've been cooped up all damn week” Daphne outpacing them all.

"My knees ain't that young, Persephone you think she has a friend..." He said quietly with a expression of mischief that made the old, scarred warrior seem younger. Auralians had taken his eye but th4 gods had blessed him with a spare.

Persephone expression gave a odd look but a positive one she had known Daphne for several years and was practically a extra daughter in some ways. His squire had meant she had formed a close bond with the Lord and Lady household. Anyway she was someone who used their brain not the swords unlike the men. "I'm not certain, I know it might be a intresting party, make the most of it." Her visions rarely made sense, they where more abstract and very much open to interpretation and she had yet to refine the ability to point she could be considered a true Seer, that was rare indeed.

Daphne made much faster progress, her 6 foot 1 frame in the warm winter leathers normal to Lunaris, she kept her twin swords but had not fanned any armour like the rest going armed as they felt wrong without but not clad like a week ago in intimidating steel plates. Daphne had even let her longer dark hair into a braided style down, it was a celebration and they had ernough second guessing over the last week.

She soon soon found the hot drinks and waited for her chance to be served, standing eye to eye with many of the men, which she found had unnerved more than a few weaker souls.

Sya fell ill, her heat built up, a fever took her quickly and the woman passed out in her rooms, Sya's head began to hurt, her vision blurred, mixing between reds and the greyish blues. Everything spun and began to lose all balance and sense of her environment. Soon as she staggered into her floor, soon as the door was closed it got even worse, Sya was out of it and utterly beyond calling for help. She made a feeble call for aid but she was alone … no one had needed to come up here, this was her personal home.

The blizzard would make everyone too busy…too caught up on survival as Sya wondered if she was dying…again…

The dreams where insane, everything floated into a fog And Sya had no idea what was happening, everything was floating, her body felt like it was changing but her mine had no idea, she could not wake and her brain moved through Dream, nightmares, stories and rather pleasant memories of spending time with an handsome farm boy then muscular man in the stables hay loft. one who fell too young and unable to deepen their relations into something more serious.

her Mind floated and she knew not how long time passed or how, minutes, days.or weeks she had no idea … Sya would not wake for days as it turned out.

…

Sya woke up feeling like half her body got beat up by Ivor, her head felt like she drank a barrel of Shine and felt something natural, wrong… deeply wrong, she felt things that should not be reached, Sya was 5’1 and she could feel the wall despite being what seemed to be its centre. Her vision Still hurt and kept her eye closed. Her lower body felt unclothed, or wrong but she felt her top covered.

Her hands, her legs though…we're not felt. Something moved and something responded to her thought, she felt the wall again and cool stone that made up a fireplace against the wall..Sya rarely used it to anything but a small amount of light or minor enjoyment of the crackling flames.

She felt…scales and smooth muscle reach down and panicked, a Book hit the floor and opened her eye, but could not see and closed it again quickly. Too bright.. curling up she felt self contact, her body moved and she self smooth scales and toned muscles.

Sya tried to calm her mind as she hyperventilated, cried and quietly sobbed as she fainted and everything went black again. She hid In the nothingness and stayed under, refusing to wake up.

The shock took time to wear off and Sya was some hours later before she fully rose back to consciousness, her eye slowly cracked open and she began to be able to force the red into the background and concentrate on the blue. the blue… The blue… slowly the world phased Into reality as she managed to shit Into her night vision. If she concentrated on the red that came, the world came into colours and human activity after glowed Into yellows and brighter tones. Was that…. Heat? energy?

Forcing her head to the alien state her legs were in, Sya saw a long snake like tail, wide as her waist then tampering down to a tip, the skirt was a ruin along with her boots. Smooth scales ran and layered down her .. leg.. tail.. limb.. and she consciously tried to move it and it flexed with her command. She gave an experimental move and pulled herself in closer, reaching out nervously to run a hand over it. It was solid, real and not some crazy vision. she could feel her hand against the flesh, the cool scales flexed under her fingers and moved at her own command. Left, right, up, down… the tip brushed and she felt it tickle against a brush a little.

Sya could not help a small smile when something tickled and released oddly comforting she was still ticklish and one thing least had not changed. Still she was stuck… Sya was stuck, unable to stand, unsure how to stand, unsure how to move… she found she was somewhat heavier than a prior slight form as she pulled self and used her limited motion she gained to climb onto her bed and curled up layering her tail over itself feeling oddly instinctual, comfortable, safe, as Sya tested her new limb. She might have to move, run or be able to escape if things went utterly shit.

She tucked the tip of her tail in under the blanket she pulled up partly. It was like her toes and she was even immune to cold tucked those and kept her feet warm, the same impulse remained however much the limb changed. She Wiggled it like her toes and utterly scared it gave her the same small joy..

Sya forced herself to concentrate on small goals, small aims… the sheer shock was something she was trying to not think about. She had done the same when she first was turned and was forced to do it again, mentally she had a breakdown after but she already had started her breakdown early… Sya was healthy and balanced …for sure.

…

Sya had called out and said she felt unwell to Becky, asking about the bakery samples and so she got some more time. She reached over not falling over… somehow to open a window and let the cool air flow over her skin and felt the cool air soothe her, the blizzard was still blowing and How deep it had been piled it had been days and not let up. Her standing up was entirely off balance and she felt like swaying as unfamiliar muscles tried to work and understand how they meant to act. Her height had not changed… Sya had done all this and not gained any height.. Seriously, the world was unfair and Sya was still her Petite 5 foot self though her legs now stretched out longer and she had to remember to curl up or fall off the bed, get caught or so.

A minute passed before she fell back to the bed which was longer than she had before. Progress. Her new limb was alien but she forced herself to accept it and pulled herself back to bed and let the tail drape over the bed's end resting it as she stretched out the tremors and weird pains that standing had caused. Having an instinctual understanding of what she needed to do, to stand, to move, to balance was not the same as doing it.

Looking down at her body she was running a finger being where scales and skin blended into each other, she still had… certain body parts and they still worked also, somehow the blight had not lost her function but feet. What would people think of her, if anything that was what made her cry more than the change, she had acceptance of a kind and now she was a monster to them even more. Sya pulled her tail about her sobbing and hid from everyone as the winter storm blew and blew.

What was causing her so much hardship was wrapped about her as a comforting pressure that she layered herself in hiding from everything and everyone.

The blizzard lasted around a week as Sya stood as best as could be described… a Certain guest who left and Sya had shared a rather intimate short time with had somehow left a chest of things behind in leaving Dawn Haven and with no means to contact had explored it. She found a dress, about her size in blue and oddly more Auralian than Lunaris but it was pretty, Coats, boots and other items. Her Baker could have the boots if they fit, Sya no longer had feet.

The dress she pulled over her head and it covered where it needed, a coat she wore over it warm and lined with fur, the blizzard was gone but it was still cool. The material of dress was not the thickest but it fit well enough and she admired herself In a small mirror deliberately braiding her into a pretty French braid, a necklace and even a little of the…make up… one of the entertainers had given her to give a little more colour to her face. Sya looked about as ready to face the world as a woman who spent a fair chunk of it crying could.

She glided across the same doorstep she had walked over before, the novelty of this form of location having been told through the door that people were gathering outside and starting to leave their homes again. A perfect time to sell food, treats and meals. Sya moved down the stairs cautiously and had to remember as she felt her tails tip catching a corner and cursed softly. She looked over her shoulder and saw she passed down the stairs without further trouble. A random thought as to how it felt in the water, Sya probably thought it would be rather nice letting all the weight be supported and she could almost float and push about the hot spring playfully.

The woman braced herself as she headed to face the other people, other residents of the town and glided out down the steps to the main bar and eventually into the outside world. Sya faced her fears, however much she wanted to curl up and cuddle herself for the rest of her days.

The large central fire burned and glittered off her now deep blue scales that made up part of her skin, smooth, shiny and an extension of the new Sya. She had a pretty dress on, a nice coat, her hair was styled… she was least trying to look less scary, though everyone would likely judge her regardless.

"Yes... this is me, I know its a ..shock but Im still me, if you want to walk...walk. but if not, we have sweets to get out, get some barrels out, tables out and get some drinks flowing. Becky get the ovens hot and right now. We debut the Bakery. Samples. Samples. But encorage them to drink too!" Sya said with a confidence she did not feel. Though she almost cried when no one quit, A few comments about her likely being tight as ever, and the fact she was a blightborn already, so they just had to dodge her tail now. Dawn Haven was so weird these days anyway... your boss growing a snake tail was apparently... not a problem.

"Well.. lets go then, thankyou. The Eye is new, improved and soon we have Shine and Sweets." Sya said deeply as they vanished off to kitchen or basement to bring up beer, wine and other things that a party would need... for coin of course.

Sya glided out feeling the ground shift anf felt straight ge under he lr new form of locomotion, she had a pretty blue dress and coat on. She now had to dress to match her scales... seriously, she was gonna have to get new clothes...

Feeling the cool slush against her skin...scales was weird. But she did not feel cold, it was just wet, and like it made moving easier and harder... Sya shoved that aside as she saw most of the town was already waking up or In process of. Almost in fear ahe moved her tail closer to her without thinking though you'd had to blind to miss thr changes. She still felt small In the crowds...

IMAGES

Fiona Grear

Aurelia was not unaccustomed to the cold. Winters came and went, and Fiona had enough years under her belt to know how to handle herself once the blizzards rolled in. Even so, the storm at Dawnhaven felt particularly unpleasant, dragging on for what felt like a month. Had they offended some god, perhaps? Maybe Ayel, for all his posturing and gabbing, truly was important and held the favor of some such deity. If there was a god to cherish such a man so, Fiona would make it her life's work to smear manure on every shrine she could find as revenge. Fortunately for Ayel's would-be patron, and perhaps her mortal soul, no such vengeance was needed.

When the storm finally broke, restlessness sent her hurtling from her shelter. Dragging her cloak on, cheeks rosy against the cold, she bat her gloved hands against them as her breath plumed before her eyes. The chill stung and dragged tears out, blurring her vision. Fiona clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering, supposing not for the first time that she should have brought more clothing. She could close the cloak, sure, but that would drastically limit her mobility, and who knew when she might have to fend off a belligerent nobleman?

Along the way, she offered to lend a hand with clearing snow, both to try and warm herself through labor, and perhaps ingratiate herself with anyone who had more coin than her. Being locked up for a week had left her with little to do but eat and idle, and worse still, go without alcohol.

That was unforgiveable. She needed to rectify that immediately, and as much as she'd like to rely upon the generosity of strangers to give her free liquor, Fiona wouldn't hold her breath.

By the time she arrived where food and drink were to be served, slush dragged underfoot, leaving a trail of grayish slop in her wake. Shaking flakes from her cloak and hair, Fiona brushed through the gathered crowd, searching through the sea of bodies while doing her utmost to ignore the galling stink of them; she had bathed that morning, thank you very much, and she would not be having a repeat of her arrival to town.

She might be sober, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to be a bit belligerent. Pushing her way to the fore, she raised a hand to try and garner the attention of a barmaid, or whoever had been given the solemn duty of serving cold, impatient souls. "Oi! Ah ken you've got drink here! What's a lass need ta do for a pint?" When no immediate response was given - perfectly understandable given the crowd, Fiona scowled, putting a hand on her hip, blowing obstinate bangs from her eyes that fell right back into place with a groan. Incensed by the smallest inconvenience known to man, she turned to a taller woman nearby and made a face, something between a smile and grimace. "Know who runs this shite? Halfa mind to complain after freezin' my paps aff..."

@PrinceAlexus