[table][row][cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/0kmNyBZ.png[/img][/cell][/row]
[row][cell][sub]Location: Behind the Eye of the Beholder[/sub][/cell][/row][/table]Cautiously, Flynn scanned the area outside, his eyes darting to the shadows beneath the inn’s roof and the thick forest behind the tavern. The back of the tavern was still, barely touched by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees. The distant murmur of the tavern patrons inside could be heard, but otherwise it was quiet, with no sign of anyone nearby. The absence of torchlight made it feel as if they were hidden from the world. Untouched snow drifts surrounded the area, creating a makeshift barrier between them and the rest of town. They were alone, for now. 

His gaze shifted to Nyla, his chest tight, words trapped in his throat. Silence hung heavily in the air between them as they stared at one another. The pain in their expressions mirrored one another, a shared grief they both recognized but couldn’t address.

After a moment, without thinking, Flynn stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his chest with a sudden, desperate need. For a brief moment, Nyla froze, startled, but then she melted into him, pressing her face into the warmth of his chest, her arms slipping around his back. His heartbeat thrummed against her ear.

His scent, the solidness of his body against hers, the rise and fall of his breath—it all felt so familiar, and for just a moment, she let herself linger there. She closed her eyes, listening to the beat of his heart, but the longer she listened, the more she realized that the comfort it once brought her was gone. 

This spot she once claimed didn’t belong to her anymore. His heart, the one she had once thought she could call her own, was no longer hers. Truly, it had never been. She had known that from the start, and had even told him so. Yet, despite all her efforts to guard herself, she had gone against her own better judgment, letting herself hope for something that was never meant to be. And now, standing here in his arms, she realized it had always been foolish. A naive desire.

Flynn rested his chin atop her head, holding her as she nestled closer to his chest. He closed his eyes, a deep ache settling in his heart as he allowed himself to savor the feeling of her in his arms once again—but only for a moment. 

His jaw clenched and pain etched into his features, Flynn finally forced himself to pull away. His arms slipped from around her, and he took a step back, creating distance between them that he knew he needed to. 

Nyla opened her eyes, the cold rushing back to fill the void where his warmth had been. She looked up at him, unsure, her breath uneven. His frown deepened as he met her gaze, regret and confusion battling inside him. After a moment of silence, he finally broke it, his voice low. [color=337d71]"Why are you here, Nyla?"[/color]

Nyla’s gaze dropped to the snow, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. [color=DBA73D]“I’m sorry, Flynn. I know I shouldn’t be...”[/color] Her quiet voice wavered, as if she were unsure whether or not to admit the truth. She stared down at her boots covered in snow, the chill beginning to seep into her bones again. She knew what she should say, but the words seemed too heavy to speak. 

[color=DBA73D]“I didn’t have any other choice.”[/color] she whispered, her voice barely carrying in the stillness. When she finally looked up, Flynn’s expression was filled with confusion, his brow furrowed as he searched her face for answers.

She took a deep breath, as though preparing herself, and in that moment, the illusion she had been holding onto began to fade. Sparkles of golden dust fluttered around her, shimmering in the moonlight. Flynn blinked, watching in awe as her true form emerged—the black horns crowning her head, the sharp, elven-like ears, her skin glowing faintly with a golden, glittering hue beneath the surface. Monarch butterfly wings unfolded on her back, a vivid burst of orange and black, fluttering ever so gently.

Flynn’s face registered shock, confusion—but not fear. He didn’t recoil from her, as she had half-expected. [color=337d71]“What happened?”[/color] he asked softly, his voice laced with concern. 

She sighed, recalling her failings. [color=DBA73D]“I... I tried to find my family after you left,”[/color] she confessed, her voice tinged with regret. [color=DBA73D]“The nomads… I thought I could find a place with them again, but...”[/color] She shook her head as if trying to shake off the memory. [color=DBA73D]“Well, this was the result.”[/color]

Nyla’s chest tightened as she stared at him. She could feel the flicker of the creature inside her stir, an ancient hunger urging her to call out his soul. Flynn—his ever-caring, patient, kind, strong and yet gentle soul—one of the best she had ever known. For a moment, her instincts clawed at her, the temptation whispering inside her mind. His soul probably tasted so sweet. 

But she shoved the feeling down, hard. She refused to feed that hunger, refusing to even entertain the thought. She wouldn’t feed on him, not even consider it. Not him. Never him.


Flynn’s heart sank as he looked at Nyla’s new form. Guilt gnawed at him, clawing its way into his chest as if this was all somehow his fault. He couldn’t help but trace the lines of cause and effect, connecting the events that had shattered their lives. The clergy—their twisted prophecies and manipulations—had torn everything apart. They had stolen his life, Amaya’s life, and Nyla’s too. A terrible, cruel domino effect.

Anger simmered beneath the surface, a quiet but burning rage aimed at the clergy who had taken so much from them. Yet, as his gaze settled on Nyla, the anger was smothered by the ache he felt for her. All he wanted to do was take her pain away, to undo the damage that had been done. But there was no undoing it. Only the harsh reality of what they both now faced.

Flynn exhaled a long, weary sigh. [color=337d71]“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine…”[/color] He paused, struggling to find the right words. [color=337d71]“You’ll be safe here, you don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure of it.”[/color]

He saw a flicker of relief in her eyes, but Flynn hesitated, the next words lodged in his throat like a stone. He tried to say it, to tell her that they could no longer be what they once were, but the words tangled, slipping through his grasp. 

[color=337d71]“But, I… We…”[/color] His voice faltered, stumbling over the words. [color=337d71]“We can’t—”[/color]

They stood there in the silence, their eyes locking, the unspoken truth settling between them. He didn’t have to finish, they both knew. The message was clear, as painful as it was. The life they once shared, the bond they once had—it was dead. They walked different paths now. 

He felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he fumbled for the words he couldn’t say. But Nyla understood. Her expression softened, a quiet understanding as she simply nodded. She had always known, deep down, that this moment would come. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

[color=DBA73D]“I know.”[/color] she whispered, a faint empathetic smile on her lips. [color=DBA73D]“We both knew a long time ago, didn’t we?”[/color]

Flynn frowned, hating that she had been right all along. He wished he could say more, but there were no words that could make this right. So instead, he just stood there, fighting off the urge to take her in his arms and disappear into the woods. To kiss her like she was the only thing that mattered. To damn the world and live their lives as freely as they could before it all ended. 

Unfortunately, he had always been a man driven by duty and responsibility. 

Clearing his throat, Flynn took another step back from Nyla, widening the physical distance between them as if afraid to trust himself any closer. The space between them felt like a chasm, growing wider with each second. [color=337d71]"There are homes... ones that have been built. You can take whichever empty one you like."[/color] he said, his voice quiet but steady. His eyes flicked toward the door that led back into the warmth of the tavern, needing something else to focus on. 

[color=337d71]"And,”[/color] he hesitated, the words feeling strange on his tongue now that they were meant for someone so close to him. [color=337d71]“Well, there's a process we follow. Each blight-born undergoes an interview..."[/color] He looked at her again, trying to gauge her reaction. [color=337d71]“My advisor and I will assign you a place in town to help out.”[/color]

As he spoke, he could feel the shift happening inside himself. Compartmentalizing—separating his personal feelings from his duties. It felt less like a choice and more like a survival instinct. He felt himself slipping into his Princely role, distancing himself from her, as if to shield himself from the ache that threatened to tear him apart. It was like watching it happen from outside his own body, something he had to do just to continue on.

Nyla nodded quietly, her face not betraying much. She could feel the shift too, the emotional distance widening between them. She tried to mirror it, pulling back, withdrawing into herself. A few more flickers of glowing fairy dust shimmered around her as her form gradually changed. Her human form returned, the one she preferred, the one she felt safer in—unseen, unnoticed by strangers who might pity her for what she had become.

The silence between them grew heavy, awkward. Flynn glanced at the tavern door, then down the snow-covered path that wound around to the front of the building. He didn’t want to return through the tavern, didn’t want to face the curious eyes inside after everything that had just happened.

[color=337d71]“I… I’ll see you soon. For the interview.”[/color] he said quietly, both knowing full well that they couldn’t leave together—it would only raise questions. 

He turned without waiting for a response, pushing his way through the snow, the crunch of his boots muffled in the thick white drifts. His mind raced as he pushed through the snow that reached up to his knees, not daring to look back. 

Nyla stood there for a long moment, watching him disappear around the corner. It felt like something had been torn out of her, leaving a gaping wound. She understood why, but that didn’t make it any easier. With a sigh, she shook off the feeling as best she could and re-entered the tavern. She traced their steps back to the common room, the warmth and noise greeting her, though it did little to soothe the ache inside. She had never been one to dull her problems with alcohol, but today was different. She needed something to dull all this pain, so she headed straight for the bar. 

Flynn rounded the corner of the tavern, his steps heavy as he trudged through the thick snow, feeling it cling to his pants and boots, the cold seeping through to his skin. He could still feel the faint warmth of Nyla’s presence, the echo of their conversation ringing in his ears. He hadn’t wanted it to end like this, but it had to. It had to.

As he neared the front of the building, his heart sank at the sight waiting for him.

Amaya stood with a group of people gathered around a dark-haired man who seemed to be in distress. Their concerned murmurs filled the air, and the tension was palpable. Flynn’s stomach twisted, but not out of concern for the man on the ground. No, it was the sinking realization that he was going to have to talk to Amaya about Nyla, about everything. 

His chest tightened as his pace slowed and he watched her, her face painted with worry for the stranger. Guilt creeped into the edges of his thoughts.