The vexing blonde watched and listened, but he couldn't wait for Aurora's reply.

The man which the gathering had crowded around was not wounded in the way that he had initially wondered, it became clear to the blue eyed monk that the man before him was no doubt trying to con the beholders. It reminded him of particular kinds of animals which would feign weakness, to draw in predators before setting it's teeth into them. Like a spider trying to make itself look like an ant, to lure out other spiders. Or a venus flytrap trying to lure in things with it's reeking promise before shutting it's jaws shut.

To many young and naive people, or old and too trusting, this kind of person was a threat. The kind which would prey on other's kindness, or to have them feel like they are doing a good thing, inviting a hungry wolf to the shepherd's flock. He had dealt with these kinds of people before, they could be found in all different places, from nobles, to thieves and beggars. Like the alcohol he had sworn to never consume, like the sweet poison it were, these individuals would use flattery and try coat their words in the same poison as their weapons.

There were a couple of kinds of people that he couldn't stand the sight of, those who saw themselves as wolves and everyone else the prey, those who sought to rob others of their free will and those who enjoyed causing suffering upon others for no other sake than to qwell their own miserable existance. These things reminded him of the Aurelian king, that detestable man, who had been a major reason as to why he had come all this way.

His objective had not changed at all. All his training and existance was for this purpose alone. A choice he had made still. It was surely better a fate than having no choice at all. In order to see Aurelia and Lunaris both fall, Dawnhaven and it's leaders, and it's blightborn inhabitants had to be protected no matter what. Would Flynn die and be no more, then the kingdoms would begin to war anew. If Amaya died. The same result. The coin had been tossed up into the air, with the goddesses watching and when it landed… it landed on the edge. And it is upon that edge which they would all have to tread. His task was simple in theory, but difficult in practice. How would he be able to keep both of the heirs of the twin kingdoms 'alive', and at the same time prevent them from undoing the source of the blight.

As terrible a plague as the blight was upon the world, with many people suffering under it's effects, whereof they died to it or were changed forever. Was it any different from living in a world that would never change? Where those two kingdoms and their pitiful warlords would fight til the end of time on behalf of things out of the mortal world.

Would Flynn set out to find a 'cure', then he knew that he too would have to go and make certain the blight would continue, and if necessary have Flynn become one of the afflicted. A dark fate, but not a fate uncommon. Leela. Kira. And many others had fallen prey to that very fate. Their hopes and dreams likely snuffed out like the feeling of being alive. Would Flynn ultimately chose the wrong path, and go down the same bloody path as Auric. Then the blue-eyed monk knew, that he would have to stop him and seize his place. It wasn't just to see the Aurelian king dead, but to unify the land that had since the beginning of time been divided and never changing.

The blight was a unifier, it was likely never meant to be. Like Dawnhaven was never meant to be a kingdom come. Unless he had an ally hidden in the shade. Time would tell. As it always did.

So would Tia. Soon.

The blonde smiled softly, he lift his head slightly and stepped forwards towards Vellion and Amaya.

"A fly may think a venus flytrap's rotten scent is sweet and inviting, yet upon landing upon it, finds itself consumed. Tread upon the web carefully, the slightest tingle may alert the spider that dinner is ready." He said softly with a smug smile, he raised his right hand and tried to trace his index finger along Amaya's arm towards Vellion hand. His ghostly blue eyes setting on Vellion.

"The cricket sought to drink the morning dew. The mantis stalks it, unaware of the bird behind it." Gadez said in a slightly poetic manner, his voice still soft and with a smile upon his lips, before it completely began to fade away and the blonde's voice took a turn, he spoke in a lower voice, but just enough for Amaya and those near to hear it.

"Unhand the girl." The blonde man said coldly, his ghostly piercing blue eyes staring right at Vellion. There was no smile this time. "...or I will unhand you." He finally added, his gloved hand ready to grab unto Vellion's wrist if he wouldn't comply.

@Dark Light@c3p-0h@Qia

Sya was used to reading people, it was a skill that had kept her alive, a vital skill of her new trade and something most blighborn had to possess out of sheer survival. She could tell kiara was uncomfortable, or just not open and that was fine, Sya was probably. Definitely more open than she would have been had she not drunk so much and been so emotional in the past short time.

She told her story and felt safe doing it, they were similar in a sense and all had their deep scars and wounds that ran to their hearts. They all had faced the darkness and the Blights attempts to make them abandon humanity and they had not yielded to it. “Thankyou Kiara, I'm just trying my best, we just launched a new bakery, and distillery. Becky, well.. me…Vala. Are not the best to judge cooking so she runs the kitchens mostly. They seem to be popular, you're both always welcome.” Sya said proudly but also with a blush, she was not so used to praise and drank from the bottle before passing it back round the group. She knew when to use her blightborn and human staff to their strengths, she had quickly learned that she could make great advantage from both working together.

She made a surprisingly playful gesture and used her tail to splash Kiara and Orion a little, she definitely was not sober… but she smiled and her emotions had been for now, more playful and her trust evident her tail began to mirror her hand gestures more. “Hey, I cannot deny I like them taller, wrap me up and make me feel safe.” Sya's cheeky side broke though from a deeper part of her and old memory returned.

Sya mind ran back to a day long ago, a warm summer's evening when she ended up sat wrapping his hand, she had not meant to hurt him but watching him shirtless, sweating, working and hammering nails into the stables door… She had been a little too flirty and distracting as he hit his hand and took a week to lose the bruising. She had taken him back to her home and helped him much to her mothers gentle smile of her head watching her daughter so carefully wrapping his hurt hand she claimed not to be flirting with all while sitting on his lap. Being short was certainly helpful that day, she claimed it was because she needed the light, but really because she liked it.

Her mind snapped back to the present and Sya looked up at the moon and stars in the sky, of eternal night. “Who says I don't mind a pretty ssssstable girl too. Or fearsome warrior princessss herbalist… zi do no lt bite but i like to ssssnugle. My scales are very Ssssmooth and quite comfortable.” Sya said with an exaggerated hiss and a wink. After everything that happened to her she had a former lover of female kind who was hardly a problem in a world of eternal night, having been reborn from the dead and ending up a Lamia. She fiddled with a necklace a little before answering, a simple metal hammer on a leather cord, nothing fancy from a Dawn Haven market stall.

“We try, I'll expect you more often then, I can see if I can get the wine you like. I'm sure the Prince paysss you nicely. Il help lighten that Purssse. Gold is heavy, and i not mimd helping.” Sya made a cheeky proposal, not the flirty kind but forward, Sya was a little abnormal, alot abnormal as she worked also to try and control the hiss in her voice. Sya Stable…no, but she was acting more like Sya again thinks to these too, and a sign why she had worked well at the Inn.

Trying to lead Kira to safe ground was harder challenge for Sya, she did not know her well, or deeply… she was a independent person and from what Sya knew kept her own circles. “Anyone know if that … man.. was right about his claims? Surely if you think like…that…why come… here?

I'm…not sure if he is…kinda… like a few hammers short of a smithy.”Sya asked casually though she was rather interested in the answer and they likely could see through her approach to try to sidestep an awkward moment for Kira.

“You know there's a few women who think your handsome in the rall, vampire, dark romance vibe. Even more if they knew you had Abs like those.” She brought her teasing expression back to Orion, deciding that Kira was someone who was not to be rushed into unlocking the layers. She had seen ernough to know he was certainly not a disappointing view when he came to save her.

Memtions

Aurora Halliwell

Eye of The Beholder
Outside the Inn

---

Aurora felt an unsettling tension in the air as she watched the injured man rise. Something was extremely captivating about the way he fixated on the princess, his gaze holding an intensity that made Aurora’s skin crawl. His eyes stayed on her like a predator studying its prey, and his hands wrapped around the princess’s as if he were trying to weave a bond that felt both sinister and unwelcome. Aurora’s instincts screamed that he was weaving a trap, drawing the princess closer with false charm and hidden intentions, and she was determined to thwart his plans.

Just then, the monk, who had been silently observing the unfolding drama with a frown etched across his brow, finally intervened. His voice was firm as he commanded the stranger to release the princess. In that charged moment, Aurora’s mind sparked with inspiration, an idea began to form.

Gathering her courage, she stood up with an exaggerated grace and then pretended to lose her balance, as though her leg had gone numb from kneeling for too long. In an instant, she grasped the stranger’s arms with both her hands, her touch gentle yet firm. She hoped that this would cause the man to let go of the princess’s hands. Aurora seized the opportunity; she steadied him with a kind smile and feigned concern. “Oh my goodness, I am so very sorry! Are you ok?” She asked, her voice laced with sincerity.

Turning swiftly on her heels, she cast a glance at the monk to ensure his support and then focused her attention back on the princess. With a graceful curtsy, she spoke softly. “Forgive me, miss. It seems that my leg has indeed fallen asleep from kneeling for too long. I hope you are unharmed.” Straightening up, she continued with conviction, “May I accompany you as you escort this man to the temple? I wish to ensure that he receives the proper care he needs.”

With that declaration, Aurora hoped to divert attention away from any dangerous agenda and keep a protective watch over the princess, all while placing herself in a position to safeguard the princess from the stranger’s potentially deceitful intentions.

@Dezuel @Dark Light @c3p-0h @Qia

Eris furrowed her brows as Ayel questioned her on what the donation had been for. Certainly his family did fund many things, but this sort of thing felt like it should’ve stood out from all the rest. "The funding for researching a cure for the blight." She reminded him, her voice soft despite her confusion.

Suddenly, though, her memory recalled that she had heard it had been his eldest brother’s name on the donation. She would not mention that and risk embarrassing the Lord, though. Wounding Ayel’s ego seemed like a dangerous mistake to make. Still, the whole exchange struck her as odd. How could Ayel not know? Was he truly so detached from his family's endeavors?

Her gaze hardened slightly as Ayel began to speak of Sya in such a negative light. Sya was one of the most genuine people she knew, often wearing her heart on her sleeve, and hearing Ayel speak of her made something cold stir within. She knew the prejudice many held against blight-born, but it still saddened her that such venom could be so freely spoken in what was supposed to be their safe haven. They were still people. Sya was still a person.

Why had Ayel even come to Dawnhaven if he held such disdain for its people? She couldn’t fathom why anyone who hated blight-born would willingly enter a town so full of them. Did he have ill intentions? She even doubted his words about being Flynn’s best friend—his attitude clearly didn’t align with the Prince’s values.

Worse yet, it made her wonder if she had added to Sya’s burden by her reaction earlier that day. Guilt crept in closer, and she glanced quickly down, fighting the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in her chest. Had she been no better than those who held disdain Sya?

As Ayel moved on to speak of the Prince’s marriage, Eris’ discomfort deepened. The way he referred to Amaya as a "barbarian" was nothing short of disrespectful. Eris had limited experience with the Princess, but what she could tell, she had been nothing but kind, and her position as the Princess of Lunaris demanded respect. “Prince Flynn did marry Princess Amaya," she confirmed, her voice now a touch colder, "and from my experience, she’s been quite lovely. As has Sya, the innkeeper."

Ayel was bold, perhaps too bold for his own good. She couldn't imagine what the Lunarians might do if they heard him speak like this about their Princess. And what if the Prince were to hear? She had heard the rumors about Ayel’s ego, but seeing it in action was something else entirely.

Sensing a subtle shift in Nathaniel’s demeanor, Eris quickly stole a glance up at him. As he began to play at Ayel’s obvious vanity, she offered a small, mischievous smile. Turning her attention back to Ayel, she nodded along with the over the top compliments Nathaniel handed to him. The sarcasm seemed to go entirely over Ayel’s head, and she couldn’t help but find it amusing.

When Ayel confirmed just how charismatic and beautiful he thought he was, Eris almost laughed outright. Luckily, her training as a noble woman allowed her to stifle it and only allow the small twitch of a smile to pull at the edge of her lips. She didn’t have to try hard to believe the rumors now; Ayel's arrogance dripped from his every word.

As Nathaniel asked if they could head to the Alchemy Chambers, she turned to him, considering it for a moment. Was it odd or unladylike to bring him back to her home? No… it wasn’t just her home. He would be working there too, after all. It was only natural that he would want to see his work station… right?

“Of course.” She agreed, glancing back at Ayel who began to speak of his younger sister. “I did not realize Lady Anora would be arriving as well. I will be sure to look for her.” she said, genuinely surprised. Anora did not strike her as the type to venture to such a dangerous place—and she was so young. Did their family not care for her safety? Then again, Ayel didn’t seem the type to care for much beyond himself.

“It was a pleasure, Lord Raunefeldt.” she lied, bowing her head to him briefly and offering a warm smile. Turning back to Nathaniel, she caught his gaze as they both turned to leave.

Once they were out of earshot, Eris couldn’t hold it in anymore. She flashed Nathaniel a knowing look, her blue eyes sparkling with mischievous amusement. "He's, uhm… interesting, isn't he?" she said, barely holding back a giggle. She kept her voice low as they walked toward the Alchemy Chambers, boots crunching against ice and snow.

With a playful tilt of her head, she added, "So… why didn’t you keep dancing with Daphne? You two were quite the pair out there. I’m sure she was enjoying herself." She teased, her tone light, but her eyes flickered to him, trying to read what lay beneath his carefully composed exterior.

---

_{Interactions: Nathaniel @Echotech71, Ayel @Dezuel}

Kira’s smirk widened as Orion’s dry retort hung in the air. For the first time in what felt like forever, a spark flickered to life within her—a warmth she hadn’t realized she’d missed so deeply. The rhythm of playful banter. The subtle dance of give and take. The unspoken challenge laced within words. A flicker of something stirring in her chest that she thought she’d long forgotten how to feel. For a fleeting moment, she felt alive again. Human.

“A stable boy? Mmm…” she mused, leaning into a teasing tone. “Not my type either, I’m afraid.” She paused, tilting her head and looking upward, as if weighing her words with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “I think I prefer something… more mysterious. Brooding, perhaps.” Her fiery eyes locked onto his, a mischievous glint in them.

For a heartbeat, the air between them felt charged, her words hanging there with a daring edge. Then, just as quickly, she shifted her attention back to Sya, whose bold and flirtatious words spilled freely—likely encouraged by the bottle of wine that she had downed more than half of.

At Sya’s flirtatious remark seemingly aimed at her, Kira arched a brow in amusement. Her gaze flicked to Sya’s blue scales, lingering there for a moment as she considered the comment. She had been with a woman or two before, but a half-snake? That would be a new one.

How would that even work? Did Sya only gain pleasure from her top half now? She blinked a few times, her lips pressing into a firm line as she yanked her mind back to the present. Clearly the alcohol was going right to her head, too.

Without another word, she grabbed the bottle Sya had passed around and took another sip. Placing the bottle down beside Orion, Kira chuckled lightly under her breath as Sya proposed “lightening their purses” for some of the Prince’s wine. “I might take you up on that offer sometime.” she murmured with a faint smile, enjoying the sassy energy that radiated off Sya now. Despite the turmoil of her emotions, Kira had to admit that there was something endearing about Sya’s unabashed nature.

Her mood shifted sharply, though, as Sya brought up Ayel again. A spark of irritation flared in her chest, and her amusement disappeared, replaced by a steely expression. Kira clicked her tongue. “Tch. Don’t waste your time worrying about him,” she said coldly, her voice low. “He’s just a weak little man who doesn’t know his head from his ass. Let him talk. You have more power in a single scale than he does in his entire being.” She seethed, her hatred of him palpable.

“He doesn’t get to decide who holds the power here.” There was an edge to her words—a subtle, dangerous undercurrent. At the end of the day, Ayel’s life existed here because blight-born allowed it. Because she allowed it. If not for her weak desire for community, Kira would have already drained every last drop of his life force.

The words hung in the air for a moment, edged like a blade. Her patience for men like Ayel was razor-thin, her sense of justice and her lingering rage a volatile combination. Kira’s gaze flicked to Orion briefly, half-expecting a look of disapproval or for him to chime in with some tempered wisdom to counter her aggression.

But then Sya shifted the conversation, her teasing directed squarely at him, and Kira’s expression softened. The fire of her irritation dimmed to a faint flicker, yet lingered like a dying ember.

Though she still felt the residual tension from the mention of Ayel, she tried to push it aside, trying to reclaim that spark of life she’d held so briefly. Her eyes flit between the two of them as she watched the interaction. The corner of her lips quirking upward ever so slightly as she watched Orion, curious to see how he would handle Sya’s brazen flattery.

---

_{Interactions: Orion @Qia, Sya @PrinceAlexus}

---

_{Location: Outside the Inn}

---

---

Amaya gave a small, sharp gasp as suddenly the man’s hands were wrapped firmly around hers, long fingers encircling her wrist. He was up, in her space in a heartbeat. He was so close, his eyes seeming to trap her as he looked down into her own. Amaya wanted to pull away but she couldn’t move, boxed in by the press of too close bodies, and eyes, and strangers –

Out. She needed out.

He was speaking. Voice soft and melodic, the words seemed to blur together as she looked up at him. His body was curled over her, and it was like she was surrounded by him — weighing her down, holding her in place as the sea of people only thickened, bustling and stormy.

Perhaps if Amaya wasn’t a mess of nerves, perhaps if she wasn’t constantly working to keep such a type grip over her magic, perhaps if this strange man’s abilities had been familiar instead of blightborn, if he hadn’t been needling away at her with singular focus for the past few minutes, if he hadn’t touched her, if, if, if —

But all of these things were true. The ground beneath her feet seemed fluid and shifting. It pushed her towards him. Or maybe he pulled her along instead. When he bent his head lower to murmur in her ear, voice soft and close, Amaya thought she heard someone else. When she looked back down at his hands still claiming her, he was so startlingly fair, his skin like milk against her own. She looked up at him, blinking. The edges of his face seemed to blur, flickering. What color were his eyes? They seemed to glow amber in the firelight.

There was no warmth to his body. No heat that seeped into her. So there was nothing to contrast her own chill as frost grew along the skin of her hands, her tenuous grip on her magic slipping.

And then suddenly someone else was in her space, commanding attention. Amaya jumped at the feel of another touch on her arm, a long finger tracing along her skin. Small, icy flowers bloomed along her arm, painting the path that he traced. And when Amaya looked up at this new person, this sudden source of warmth —

Blond hair and eyes like the sea, expression stormy as he watched the man who’d dared to set her so off balance.

The world seemed to trickle in. Amaya blinked as she watched this new man, her vision refocusing. His eyes were wrong — they weren’t green, but a ghostly blue. He was older. His face wasn’t quite right. It was handsome in its own way, but it wasn’t the landscape that she knew.

Another body. Another force moving against her. Amaya blinked awake fully.

The healer who’d come to assist, the slight woman with white hair, was offering hurried apologies and offers to accompany them — accompany them? Whom? To where? Reality flooded her. The two men who loomed over her, caging her in. They each doffed the familiar masks her mind had given them. They’d both laid claim to her arm, eyeing each other like territorial dogs.

She’d been magicked.

A new emotion struck her through her haze of confusion: anger. Icy and unrelenting, it crawled through her body as she took in the scene again. The man holding her hand – he’d been trying to spirit her away. All his pretty words, his heartbroken look that he’d first given her, had all been a ploy. The blond man, though… the one who’d taunted her and set her so on edge…

He was closer than acceptable – they both were – but he wasn’t looking at her. Though his hand lingered on her arm, he looked at the black haired man with a clear warning in his eyes. Danger crackled like electricity in the air. Amaya didn’t know what to make of it – the way he seemed ready to remove this interloper by force. It didn’t fit against the other pieces she’d assembled in her mind about him. Still, there was a hesitant sort of gratitude that touched her as she looked up at him.

Amaya’s world expanded beyond just the two men confining her. The healer. The barefoot man. Elara. The bustling crowd, half the town having gathered for the feast. The electricity sparking between the men suddenly wasn’t just a warning. It was an inevitability, threatening to catch everyone up in the storm. Amaya felt the weight of her station like a winter cloak, heavy on her shoulders. She wasn’t ever given authority to exercise here in Dawnhaven, but on some level these people were still her responsibility.

Her decision was so quick that Amaya didn’t even have time to register it. Fixing a smile on her face, she looked between the two men standing over.

“Gentlemen,” she said with a light, chastising tone. Her free hand, the one that glittered with her wedding band, touched the blond man’s hand. A staying motion. She turned her attention back to the man who seemed so intent on pulling her away. “It would be my pleasure to show you the temple. I’m quite overdue for a visit myself, I think.” Her magic buzzed under her skin, growing restless. Amaya forced her smile to remain in place as she slipped her hand into the crook of his offered arm. “I haven’t taken a proper dip in a moon pool since – when was it, Elara?” Amaya craned her neck to find her handmaiden, meeting her eyes. “Bishop Ashwood’s consecration last summer?” One of the guards nearby looked at Amaya sharply. She knew him. He’d been stationed at the palace for most of her life.

Amaya never entered moon pools. There was no Bishop Ashwood. She’d avoided large bodies of water ever since she was a child, and ‘Ashwood’ was a codeword the palace had come up with to discreetly alert those who knew it to potential danger or complications. The king had only ever had a single heir – safeguards had been put in place to keep her alive. At least, until it became convenient to get rid of her, apparently.

“Sir Abel, would you escort us?” The guard gave a nod, then a silent command to another guard to accompany them as well. Amaya was already moving away from the crowd, lightly tugging the black haired man by the arm she was wrapped around. She looked then to the healer. “Your care is admirable for your profession, but the snow can make travel dangerous if your leg is troubling you. Perhaps you should stay, and sit a while. I’ll make sure he receives adequate care.”

He wanted Amaya away from the crowd? Fine. Better that this ticking bomb go off in private, rather than put any of the citizens at risk. Better to keep this contained than make a scene. Her anger was an indignant, icy thing as she batted her eyes up at him. She smiled like she was still under his spell, the two guards trailing behind them.

---

_{Interactions: Elara Moonshadow @Qia, Vellion Hurst @Dark Light, Aurora Halliwell @BlackRoseSiren, Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Valthyr Naffron @Fetzen}

@BlackRoseSiren@c3p-0h@Qia@Fetzen

Vellion Hurst

---

Outside Eye of the Beholder.

---

And things had been going so well... Vellion was forced to quickly retreat inwards for a moment, holding himself completely still and silent as he battled for self control. His vision grew dim and his thoughts a blurry mess, he feared any movement or retaliation would result in him caving to base desires.

Oh but how easy and satisfying it would be to take just one bite of this fool. In a sudden burst he could catch them all off guard and open any number of arteries in a second. Oh how they called to him, not as sweetly as as the one beneath his fingertip, but they called to him nonetheless.
He could practically taste it already, almost feel the warmth on his skin as the man's blood pumped out of his neck pouring all over Vellion, feeding him, sustaining him, empowering him.
Such a prospect was hard to refuse, especially when every cell of his being begged for it, demanded it. He could see it all happening in his minds eye, many times in many glorious satisfying ways.

It took him a while but he slowly anchor himself. His vision coming back to life, eyes run looking down across the woman's arm, trailing the path of the man's finger before throwing him a contempt glance of annoyance. Inwardly he smirk, this fool was not all wrong, Vellion did intend to consume her, at least a little bit.

"Are you drunk my friend. Wait, who is what bug?" He mockingly ask. "The lady here has the sweetest inviting scent, are you saying she will consume me?" He offers her a sly playfully questioning glance before turning back and putting a hint of scolding accusation in his tone.
"For I know you did not just compare my lady to a shit eating fly, blindly seeking rotten smells."

Vellion gave a moments thought to the smell of decay. His sense of smell seemed to go first before his body wilted so he wasn't sure if it gave an odour or not. Hopefully he would feed soon and not have to find out.

"And are you supposed to be the spider?"
Disgust and condescension growing evident in his voice as he lift his chin and squares his shoulders up to the man.
"Eager to devour us both?"

Everything in his tone and body language was mocking and showed utter disregard and contempt for this man. He was far from done, a snarl tugging at his lips and malice burning in his eyes, more sharp words ready to pour from his lips but then the healer staggered into him pulling his attention and grip away.

He blink from the sudden impact and as the darkness flash away, he found the healers outstretched arm in his tight blight born grip, her exposed wrist facing up, lips already starting to part. Quickly he drop it and growled at her.
"Watch yourself."

He barely noticed the other woman's words but felt her take his arm and begin moving. Victory. A smug taunting grin was flashed at the man as he started to stroll away. The guards following caught his attention, a faint hint of infuriation raising in his gut, but his mind was hazy, he only had the focus for one thing at a time and right now it was holding himself together. He didn't want to seem eager but despite that he still insistently moves Amanya on.

_{@Qia@c3p-0h
Location: on the way to Selune's temple}

---

The more Valthyr stood and watched the scene in front of him unfold, the more it felt as if the gods had just decided to start a race between the cold creeping up his own feet and the many people creeping towards the person that was Amaya, but whose name he didn't know yet. It was almost pathetic. Was basic respect towards other human and living beings in general a thing that wasn't taught anymore in either kingdom ?

He had noticed a female and then shortly after a male leaving the tavern and initially thought that maybe they were a couple who had had a disagreement about something inside and now were both eager to show off who was the more insulted of them. In retrospect however, he now considered altering this assessment: What if they had just been there to serve as a distraction sent by the heavens, to break the continuity of the madness slowly unfolding on the stage so to spare the audience ?

Of course that was nonsense of sorts, but Valthyr's remorse for not having reacted more quickly wasn't. He might have been able to step in and prevent Vellion and the other man from their doings upon the woman's request to help, but now the fact that he hadn't came to bite his conscience a bit. It only was of little solace that this non-move had allowed him to learn about several people he should potentially be cautious about simultaneously: If these men were capable of behaving almost like a pile of mindless creatures trying to feed off a fallen horse, then what else could they do ?

But... should he intervene now that the situation was already about being resolved ? Ranting at Vellion didn't feel like the right thing as ranting only worked if one had actual authority -- which he had not. He didn't know anybody here yet and vice versa. Also delivering a speech would have involved staying outside on bare feet for much longer and, frankly speaking, he was no longer ready to do just that. A few more minutes and they might have another issue requiring a strong healer in the same place.

The music coming from inside the building sounded tempting. Apparently people were having fun in there and each time the door had opened, warm air had gushed outside in a large quantity. He did not have any coin worth mentioning though so he could end up stranded in there with warmth, but without food. Also... wasn't somebody who could call in several guards to accompany here with ease probably somebody very important ? Maybe even that princess that was supposed to be involved in this testing ground of a village ?

An idea hastility formed in Valthyr's mind. Maybe he would be able to get several of the things he wanted at the same time: warmth, some food, and somebody to talk to since he would also need some room here to dwell in on the long run. He left the scene, disappearing around the next corner as quickly and silently as he had arrived. Now was not the time for the familiar druid, or the flying druid, or the feral druid. No... now was the time to deploy the fluff!

Amaya, Elara and the other individuals on the way to the temple would find themselves tracked by a cat with thick, gray fur very soon. Bare paws were so much more comfortable in deep snow as feet and surely they wouldn't deny a cute, little, innocent fellow access to a holy place, would they ? Valthyr raised his tail and added a slight curve at the end so to indicate a good mood and caught up with the group using what he thought was a speed looking unconspicuous enough.

Now he had to make sure he wouldn't be accidentally trampled by one of the guards, given the fact he was hardly taller than his own human footsteps had been deep just minutes earlier. The druid meowed so to draw some attention and followed along, looking upwards and twisting his head while hurrying along. He even dared to slightly rub his right lip against Elara's leg, knowing that he was a fully functional feline right now after all -- including the pheromone glands.

Silently, Flynn followed Tia down the hallway, a sense of unease settling over him as he realized that she was leading him toward her own bedroom. Everything he had ever been taught told him that this was improper, especially for people of their station. Then again, he wasn’t quite sure what he had expected—there weren’t many private areas built into the temple that she could have taken him.

Once inside, he gently closed the door behind him, pushing any thoughts of lost decorum from his mind. The room was still faintly warm, with the remnants of a fire flickering low in the hearth opposite her bed. A single candle remained lit on her bedside table, casting a soft, amber glow. He walked toward the fireplace, unwilling to sit on her bed—there was something too personal about it—so instead, he stood before the dying embers.

Crouching, he grabbed one of the logs neatly stacked beside the hearth and carefully placed it atop the charred wood. With a subtle motion of his hand, he summoned a small thread of magic to the surface, igniting the log in an instant. The fire roared to life, casting a bloom of light across the room, illuminating Tia and giving him a better view of her.

He stood and turned toward her, studying her for a moment, noting the nervousness in her eyes and the way it seemed to pain her to speak aloud. His own expression remained steady, as if he were trying to find answers from the look in her eyes alone.

Tia tried not to fidget under his scrutiny, her fingers twisting around each other in front of her legs. She forced herself to hold his gaze. Her mind spun faster and faster with each moment that passed, concocting new reasons to worry.

Flynn took a breath, deciding to forgo the pleasantries of small talk before business. He had already pushed past formalities here, why stop now? The question he had been wanting to ask burned in his chest.

“You’ve already served the crown greatly, Priestess.” Flynn stated, his voice low and firm. The fire crackled beside him, its flickering glow casting shifting shadows across her face as his deep green eyes held her dark eyes, unblinking.

"Lady Hightower made a discovery about the blight." he continued, watching her closely, measuring every movement in her expression. "And it seems you are a key factor in it."

His eyes searched hers for any semblance of recognition or surprise. Was this news to her? Or had she known all along? His eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but in confusion, as if trying to piece together a puzzle.

Tia’s expression didn’t change for a moment. Her eyebrows pulled together slightly, not recognizing the name. And then – her eyes widened.

Eris.

That evening in the hot springs flashed through Tia’s mind. How she’d held Eris’ hand, drawing careful letters into her palm. Seek the violet flow. The words echoed in her mind without a voice.

“How did you know?”

Tia was suddenly very cold. Aelios’ fire crackled, casting the Prince in a flickering silhouette. She could only stare at him, frozen in place. Her dreams… they’d meant something. It was like waking up to that first midnight morning all over again, two days after a dream of eternal darkness. It was the realization that the world was unknowable and more powerful than she would ever comprehend – but it knew her. But… maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, and this wasn’t about Willis and his blood (though what else could it possibly be?) and her dreams were nothing. Tia didn’t know why, but she suddenly hoped they were nothing.

She’d been silent too long. The Prince was waiting for an answer. There was no warmth in his expression, none of that patience he’d had for her that first visit to the temple. Tia forced her lips to part. She closed them again. Finally breaking eye contact, she looked down at her hands. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. Tia looked back up to the Prince.

“Know what?” The words were more breath than voice. They caught against her throat, and she tried to clear it as subtly as she could. But she needed to hear him say it.

Flynn’s eyes narrowed further, not quite buying her feigned ignorance. The silence had stretched between them for too long, giving him reason to believe she was giving herself time to come up with an alibi of some sort.

"How did you know that Willis’ blood would lead to a breakthrough?” he asked, traces of frustration evident in his tone now. “Eris—Lady Hightower—told me she never would have thought to look there, not without you.”

There was no accusation in his words—at least, not yet. What he sought was understanding. But the confusion in his gaze, those dark green eyes narrowed, spoke of more than simple curiosity. There was a growing sense of unease, of something not adding up in his mind. With every passing moment, whatever small amount of trust he had in her began to slip through his fingers like sand.

Tia’s heart was hammering against her ribcage.

It… it could’ve been a coincidence. Willis’ blood was purple, the same distinct shade as the blight she’d seen from afar two months ago. Perhaps her exhausted mind had just put the two clues together and…

But no, she realized, feeling more and more underwater with every breath. She hadn’t seen Willis’ blood until after she’d awoken from her nightmare.

Her prophecy.Her nerves rose with each degree of displeasure in the Prince’s voice.

“I—” Tia barely managed to cut herself off before she could start coughing. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on her throat. A hand came up unconsciously to slip under the fabric of her scarf and touch the scarred skin of her neck. When Tia opened her eyes again, it was to see the Prince still staring at her with his heavy gaze. She knew she couldn’t lie to him. Not just because she was an atrocious liar, but because she knew he wouldn’t relent until he received a satisfactory answer.

But what of the Arch Priest? He’d ordered her to not reveal her dreams, lest they prove false and do more harm than good. Her prophetic abilities were untested still. Untrained. Unreliable. And the thought of disobeying him, disappointing him again…

Tia spent another thunderous heartbeat staring at the Prince with anxious eyes. The raised skin of her scar was smooth and cool to the touch.Then she turned to the small drawer beside her bed, pulling it open. Careful stacks of paper filled the cavity, some filled, some fresh — and the book that held careful descriptions of her dreams sat beneath it all. It seemed to burn hotter than the fire the Prince had commanded into existence. Pressing her lips together, Tia pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil. She willed her hands to stop their trembling.

When she was done writing she turned back to the Prince, hesitating. Then she took three nervous steps towards him, not quite crossing the distance. She held the paper out to him. Her eyes stayed low, unable to meet his.

I did not know for certain. I just wanted to help.

Flynn read the note, his eyes skimming over the words, each one driving the sting of frustration deeper. He felt his patience wearing thin, his chest tightening. She wanted to help, yet here she was, withholding the one thing that could make a difference. His gaze hardened as he crossed his arms over his chest, meeting her eyes again. She flinched back at the cold steel there.

"You didn’t know for certain?" Flynn repeated, his voice flat, unamused by her insufficient answer. "You just took a wild guess, then?” he asked, studying her carefully again. Her lips parted, as if to answer. But no sound came out. “That’s quite lucky.” Disbelief dripped from his tone, though he never raised his voice. Tia felt herself withering under his words, her breath growing short and quick.

“It –”

“How could you want to help, and yet not explain further? If you know something more—don’t you want to help these people? Prevent more death?” The hardened look in his eyes softened for just a brief, pleading moment. Something broke in Tia at the sight – it was as if she’d struck him, guilt seeping into her like blood into soil. Desperate words bubbled in her chest, explanations, pleas, excuses… but none could make it past the ruined path of her throat.

For a few breaths, Flynn was silent, scrutinizing her again. Her breaths were coming rapidly now, audible as they moved through her. He thought back to what little he knew of her—how she had come from the Sunfire Citadel, highly recommended, how she was from the Ember Isles, a skilled healer, and yet... the wound on her neck. The fresh scar that should have never been there. How? How could someone like her have come to such harm, surrounded by those trained to heal? Things were not adding up.

He couldn’t let it go.

A question slipped from his lips before he could stop it, a blunt accusation. "What else does the Arch Priest know? Is that who gave you the information? Does he know how to stop the blight and yet he’d rather sacrifice Princess Amaya and myself instead?" His voice was quieter now, but sharp and filled with suspicion for the man who had sealed his fate with prophecy. Tia jolted at the questions, eyes widening.

For a moment, his mind wandered to his mother and her deep involvement with the Citadel. How much had she known? Had she been part of a larger plan? A pawn in their ploy, or had she also sacrificed him for some greater purpose?

"What game is the Citadel playing at this time? Are you all content to watch the world burn?"

“No! I can’t–” Tia’s voice cracked and shattered against her own jagged pieces. Air was a solid thing, tearing at her throat like claws. She coughed, curling in on herself. Her free hand went up to her throat again, as if her own magic could heal what was wrong with her. As if she was on that old dirt road again, hand against a gaping wound, trying to keep the life from spilling out of her. Her other arm lifted to cover her mouth with her sleeve. Her hand fisted, crumpling the paper.

The coughing fit wracked through her body, each breath another aggravation to her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes. She fought to remember the exercises the other healers had worked on with her – fewer breaths. Slower and longer. Relax the muscles in her neck and torso. But the air was like sand, grit against the mangled components that now made her. Eyes squeezed shut, she tried to hold herself together. She tried to breathe.

Flynn stood frozen, watching as Tia’s body convulsed with painful coughs, tears filling her eyes as she trembled. Each ragged breath struck him somewhere deep, where his Princely duties collided with the compassion he had always held for people. A fatal flaw that his parents had never quite been able to erase. His heart twisted in his chest. He had pushed her too hard, too fast, and now guilt consumed him like a tidal wave.

His finger twitched at his side, instinct urging him to reach out. Every fiber of his being wanted to come to her side, place a hand on her back, and offer comfort. Apologize. Tell her to breathe, to focus. He had always known what to do with his siblings, back when life was simpler, and they needed him in the ways only an older brother could be needed.

But he didn’t move. He forced himself to stay exactly where he was. Jaw tight, fighting against his inherent nature.

He couldn’t afford to give in to those gentle instincts anymore, no matter how badly it gnawed at him. This was too important. His life, Amaya’s life, the blight-born, the hundreds, maybe thousands who would die in the future if he didn’t find a solution—it all hung in the balance.

He needed answers. Real ones.

It felt like an eternity before the coughing subsided. Maybe it was only a moment. But when Tia could finally take a full breath, her throat was raw and burning. A dull ache radiated from her diaphragm. Her eyes were wet. She looked up at the Prince, embarrassed that he’d seen it all. But what would he do? Think less of her? Tia didn’t think his regard for her could get any lower at the moment, not with how he’d looked at her – like she was a person capable of summoning the blight herself.

The weight of his gaze was heavy as a brand.Tia pressed her lips together.

Despite his internal war, Flynn hesitated, his gaze softening for just a moment as he saw the raw vulnerability on Tia’s face. She looked so small, so broken, and for a moment, he wavered. He pulled his gaze away, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. His shoulders, once rigid with tension, sagged ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. He kept his eyes averted, unable to bear the sight of her in that moment. “I just—”

He faltered for a moment, considering his next words. “I need answers. We need answers.” His green eyes flicked back to her, but they were no longer as intense, no longer demanding—just pleading now. “If you know something, anything…”

She looked down at the crumpled paper she held – glimpses of words decorated the peaks and valleys she’d created. She looked back to the Prince. Raising the paper, she smoothed it out as best she could with shaking hands. Folding it was slow work. It felt meditative, almost. Align. Bend. Crease. Smooth. Align. Bend. Crease. Smooth. When she was done, she had a small, dense rectangle of paper, with only two words visible.

Tia allowed herself to hesitate for another moment. Breath scratched against her throat. Then she held it up to show him.

not certain.

Her free hand raised slightly, to stay any immediate reaction he might have, should he think this was another deflection or a lie. She held his gaze, desperately hoping he saw the truth of it. She tapped the paper.

‘Risky.’

There was no voice at all – just air in the shape of a word.

Flynn furrowed his brows as he read the note again, his eyes looking up just in time to see her mouth the word. Deep down, he knew she wasn’t wrong. If the Citadel knew something that she had been trusted with, then telling him their secrets was the most risky thing she’d ever do in her life.

But whose side was she on?

The Arch Priest’s many warnings echoed in Tia’s mind – how important it was to not burden others with the knowledge of her gift until she was sure it could be relied on. What if she couldn’t tell dreams from prophecies? What if she misinterpreted or misremembered things? Bad information was worse than no information at all, especially when she moved with Aelios’ light, drawing the trust and reliance of others. What if she mistakenly pointed them in the wrong direction, wasting time and resources they couldn’t afford to squander? What if she led to more senseless death, rather than prevented it? An ability of this magnitude couldn’t simply be wielded because there was the opportunity. It needed to be vetted and tempered, with discipline and training that Tia hadn’t had time to receive yet.

And now… Tia knew her resolve was a single push away from breaking, and the Prince wasn’t going to leave this conversation without his answers. She knew she was about to disappoint the Arch Priest here in this room, as surely as she knew the sun wouldn’t rise tomorrow. Any hope otherwise seemed foolish. But she needed the Prince to at least understand – the knowledge he sought from her might do more harm than good. Especially because Tia was the one providing it, without the Arch Priest’s guidance or discernment.

Flynn stared at her in silence, the tension between them thick as he considered her words—or rather, the lack thereof. His jaw clenched, a mixture of doubt and frustration weighing heavily on his mind. Time was slipping through their fingers, and every moment wasted meant more lives lost. Flynn could feel it in his bones, like the tightening of a noose inching closer each time the moon rose and fell.

The Citadel—its power and influence were undeniable. No one dared stand against it, not openly. But these were desperate times. Was it not time for the both of them to grow a spine?

Tia’s lack of explanation only managed to further cement his skepticism in the clergy. His ever present disdain for them burned hotter with every passing thought. These were the people who had sealed his fate, who had dictated his and Amaya’s lives with a wave of their hand. They had cast a shadow over his future, condemning him to death before he had a chance to live. But what if it was all fabricated? If they had known about the blight all along, then what else were they keeping hidden? And what exactly did they stand to gain?

A defiant rage stirred within as he stared at Tia for several long and uncomfortable silent heartbeats. A feeling he had managed to quell many times over. Snuff it out and move on. Ignore it and behave. Keep himself in line. But this wasn’t just about him anymore.

If the Citadel held knowledge about the blight—if they had used their influence to manipulate this prophecy to control him, to control the future—then everything was a lie. The thought burned through him like wildfire.

If they had manufactured his fate for their own ends, then Flynn would unravel every thread of their deception. He’d tear down the walls they hid behind and turn it all to ash.

His patience, the good-natured diplomacy he’d always catered to, had worn thin. It seemed that everything he had done to hold himself together—his family’s legacy, the expectations he had been bound by—were irrelevant compared to what they were facing.

Flynn could see Tia’s hesitation, the fear gnawing at her from the inside. Defying the clergy wasn't something to be taken lightly. He let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of his next words before he spoke them. His voice, when it came, was low, firm but not harsh.

“I understand,” he began, his eyes steady on her. “But we’re running out of time. I am running out of time.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. Then, his voice softened, but there was a fierce intensity behind it. “If you know something—anything…” his voice trailed off for a moment, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deception.

“I vow to protect you with my life, Tia.” His voice lowered further, more personal now as he purposely lost her formal title.

“Will you help me?”

Tia could only stand before him, stunned by his declaration – his quiet intensity, her name. The foreign thought that this man she barely knew would… would defend her, even now, when she’d only offered disappointment and frustration, when history told her that anyone else would’ve taken the opportunity to be rid of her. The sheer force of him seemed to radiate off of his body, furious and golden. She felt it burn away any last defenses she had. Giving in seemed as inevitable as the cycle of the stars across the sky.

But then… her eyebrows drew together slightly. ‘Protect’ her? From what? The blight? The blightborn who’d turned feral and vicious? Her throat was aflame with every shallow breath. Her face scrunched as she realized – he still didn’t understand. She looked up at him with her dark eyes, her own frustration finally building within her. It was a familiar feeling to turn inward – it sat in her burning throat, shards of glass cutting any words she could’ve offered in explanation.

She broke her gaze away from his. Looked down. Another cough tried to force its way through her, and it was all she could do to try and stifle it. Tia pressed her lips together again and looked back towards the small bedside table that held her writings. She looked back up to the Prince. His green eyes were nearly black in the flickering firelight of her room.

She walked to the table. Putting down her little folded rectangle, she retrieved her pencil and a fresh sheet of paper and scrawled careful words. Then she looked back into the open drawer. The dark cover of her book peaked out from beneath the stacks of paper. Tia hesitated. But she knew it was inevitable.

Flynn narrowed his eyes as Tia turned away from him, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. Was she truly more aligned with the clergy?

Moving the paper, she pulled out the book, flipping it open to where four sheets of paper were carefully aligned. She grabbed the top two and placed them on the table next to her note. Tia looked back towards the Prince. Somehow she couldn’t bear to put the knowledge in his hands herself. She couldn’t disobey the Arch Priest so directly.

Tia stepped away from the table, the papers resting innocently on the smooth wood. She waited for the inevitable as she clutched the book to her chest, its two remaining pages weighing down her arms.

When she finally looked back at him, her dark eyes filled with uncertainty, Flynn’s brow furrowed deeper. He shifted his gaze to the papers she had spread out on the nightstand, her silent invitation lingering in the air.

He took a few steps forward, his eyes settling the note she had just written. He picked it up, reading under the candle light. The words leaving him puzzled. What could she possibly mean by this?

I’m not the one in danger. I am the risk. I don’t know if my knowledge can be trusted yet.

His fingers brushed the edge of the paper as he stole a quick glance back at Tia, as if she might offer some kind of explanation. Her posture was rigid, clutching her book as if it were a shield, but she offered no expression, no words. Flynn's eyes shifted back to the other two pages she had laid out, the tension in him growing.

The first sheet was softer, more worn from handling. It was filled with careful, confused words – the paragraphs spoke of walking through a sea of darkness, towards a blinding, burning light. How that light crumbled apart bit by bit, shining dust littering the space around her – lining the path below her. It wasn’t the sea – it was a river. A glittering path that sparkled with every step she took, stardust glowing brighter as the burning light fell to pieces, until it was gone completely. All that was left was darkness – darkness that stretched endlessly, beyond any point she would ever reach, filled with only stars and the sounds of her breathing.

Flynn carefully read the hurried lines of writing, each word pulling him into a scene that felt foreign—vivid but abstract. Her words read like poetry, the meaning of it eluding him. He paused, glancing at the date written at the top, then read the words again, slower this time, as he tried to grasp the meaning behind it.

‘Was this a dream?’ He thought, though he couldn’t be sure. Nonetheless, the dream didn’t strike him as anything out of the ordinary. Flynn had plenty of odd dreams such as these. But why would she show this to him?

Finally, he gently set the page down on the table. Without a word, he picked up the final page. His heartbeat noticeably jumped in his chest, as if it instinctively knew that something was about to shift.

The second page was newer, the edges crisp and the ink bright. It told the story of her scar – or part of it, at least. Laying in the dirt. Desperately holding the shredded remains of her throat as blood leaked into the earth and her body numbed. The knowledge that she was dying. The river of stars, glittering above. But then the memory shifted. The stars coalesced into the blight itself, enveloping her as it fell. It pushed itself through her body, replacing the blood that had once filled her. The viscous purple ooze. The hunger. The silhouette with glowing eyes. The words that echoed with countless voices at once: In the eternal one’s veins, seek the violet flow.

Flynn’s eyes moved slowly across the second page, drawn into the memory Tia had captured. The imagery was brutal—a recounting of her near-death. Sympathy for what she had been through gripped him, though he questioned if this, too, was just a dream.

But then, as he reached the final paragraphs, things that had seemed grounded in reality started to become twisted—surreal.

‘The violet flow?’ He echoed the words in his mind, absorbing what Tia had written.

Both pages detailed the burning, unknowable presence that stalked her like prey. Both pages were dated – the first, six months ago. The second, the day she’d arrived in Dawnhaven.

His fingers tightened slightly on the page, and he could feel his heart start to race. The pieces began snapping into place, fragments of understanding threading together in his mind. The purple ooze, the blight. It had led her to Willis’ blood. These weren’t just dreams—they were something more. Visions.

Flynn turned to look at Tia, still holding the page. “You dreamt this?” he asked, his voice low but steady, the weight of realization sinking in. If she had dreamt this… if her dreams held any truth at all…

Tia watched the pages like they were snakes prepared to strike at her. Over the sound of her drumming heart, the Prince’s words reached her. She looked back to his stunned face as her grip on the book tightened. She nodded.

Flynn's gaze flicked back to the page, his eyes swiftly rereading the last portion, as if to reconfirm what he had just read.

He looked back to Tia, meeting her dark eyes. “If this is true,” he said, holding up the page in his hand, “then… you are in more danger than you know.”

He stared at her in silence for a few moments, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. His eyes searched hers, hoping to find some recognition of the peril she could be put in. Did she understand how deep this went? Had she heard about the things he had seen? Had she seen it for herself?

Tia blinked at him, caught off guard. Danger? Why on earth would she be in danger?

Then, bluntly, he asked, “Does the Arch Priest know?” He paused for a moment, but was unable to stop himself from asking the next question. “My mother?”

Confusion swirled within her, shown plain on her face. After a moment she approached the table – and the Prince. Trying to keep a respectful distance from him, Tia released a hand from its achingly tight grip on her book to pick up the pencil. She wrote a new message beneath her previous one, arm stretching to reach.

I came to the Arch Priest after my first one six months ago. He was teaching me to have better control.

Tia paused. The mention of the Queen reminded her of the burning letter still in her pocket. Fresh guilt filled her.

I don’t know if he told Her Majesty. He thought it would be dangerous for others to know before I had proper training.

Flynn read the words carefully, his brows furrowing as he processed what Tia had written. The Arch Priest was training her? His gaze focused toward the floorboards in thought, his eyes becoming distant. The world around him blurring.

An unwelcome memory clawed its way to the surface.

There she was—beaming at him, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight. The bustling noise of the market surrounded them, the kingdom alive with the scent of spices and the chatter of vendors and patrons alike. She laughed, her smile so full of life as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the path. Her free spirited energy infectious. Abbi.

They were teenagers, carefree, weaving through the busy market. Laughter and the hum of life surrounding them.

And then, suddenly, darkness.

The warmth drained away in an instant. They were beneath the castle, hidden in the maze-like chambers no one ever spoke of. The air cold and damp. The walls pressed in around him. His heart raced. His mother’s hand gripped his own with a fierce, almost painful strength—anchoring him in place.

Abbi crumpled on the ground. She sobbed, her body trembling. The echo of her pain filled the small, cold chamber. The Arch Priest, younger then, stood over her, his face dark with anger. His mother’s face pale, but set in stone. Flynn’s pulse thundered in his ears. The Arch Priest lifted a hand. Abbi screamed.

The memory felt like a vice around his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until he couldn’t breathe.

Flynn shook his head sharply, forcibly snapping himself out of it. His vision cleared, and the memory faded. His eyes refocused on Tia, grounding himself in the present. His heart pounded, but his face remained stoic as he stared at her. He couldn’t let it happen again.

"We should keep your dreams between us, for now." he said quietly, his voice guarded. “But please tell me if you have another. Your vision has been proven true, so far.” He paused, his expression darkening. “But we have to be careful.”

He looked down at the paper in his hand again, realizing he had been gripping it tightly. He offered it back to Tia, his eyes locking with hers. She reached out with a nervous hand. For a moment they both held the paper, gazes held heavy between them.

“The Arch Priest… he has not taken kindly to seers who’ve spoken up, in the past.”

Tia’s eyebrows pulled together, her head tilting in confusion. He was so… worried. Why? The storm that had passed over his features stuck with Tia, the memory of his eyes unfocusing, his countenance growing dark. Her hair stood on end. There was still so much she hadn’t told him. And he was demanding her secrecy, just as the Queen had, as the Arch Priest had. Whom was she to obey? The Arch Priest’s face flashed in her mind. His gentle demeanor, the way his skin wrinkled when he gifted her with an encouraging smile. How much it’d hurt when she’d lost his favor through her own foolishness. Her throat burned. She brought the wrinkled paper to hold against her book, before picking up the pencil and writing again on her notepaper.

Before the storm I wrote to the Arch Priest about dreams I’ve had here. He has only ever offered me guidance.

Flynn studied Tia’s words, his brow furrowing in thought. Had the Arch Priest had a change of heart after all these years? Time could alter even the most stubborn of men, couldn’t it? Perhaps the man who once towered in Flynn’s memories—sharp, domineering, and unrelenting—had softened, become someone Tia could trust. And yet…

Flynn shook his head slowly, letting out a faint breath through his nose. He glanced up from the note, meeting Tia’s gaze. “Guidance… for now.” he said, a warning laced in his tone, “so long as it suits him.”

Without another word, he straightened and turned, taking a few steps back toward the warmth of the hearth. He stood there for a moment, his back to her, one hand resting on the mantel as he stared into the flickering flames. Silence stretched between them, only broken by the occasional pop of burning wood.

His thoughts raced as he watched the flames flicker. How much could he trust Tia? Deep down, he knew he couldn’t trust her at all. No matter how much he wanted to believe that people were inherently good, she was still part of the clergy. She still held strong bonds of loyalty to them. She’d been sent here as the blade to their prophecy, after all. There was little that could be done for someone so indoctrinated.

It wasn’t surprising to him, she’d been nurtured by their teachings, sheltered in their halls. She had no reason to question their motives. And yet, it wasn’t her loyalty that unsettled him.

It was the way she always managed to peel back his defenses with nothing more than a glance or a carefully written note. With Tia, the mask slipped too easily. The layers he’d worked so hard to maintain fell away. She always left him feeling vulnerable, raw in ways he couldn’t explain. He hated it. ‘Stupid.’ he chastised himself. He had said too much. Felt too much.

Still, he needed her. Her assistance, her insight, her healing capabilities. If her visions held any truth, then she would be invaluable—assuming the Arch Priest wasn’t pulling all her strings. He had to tread carefully, to temper his frustration and keep his distance. Pushing her too hard could cost him, and that was something he couldn’t afford to lose. Not right now, anyway.

His jaw tightened as he finally turned back to her, mindfully steeling off his emotional ties this time. “We’ll be traveling to the blight lands soon,” he said, his words firm but calm. “The discovery must be tested. I’d like you to come with us.”

Tia watched the way the firelight flickered around the edges of his body, his face cast in shadow. She’d missed something, somehow – some opportunity had slipped away from her, and now the weight of every secret she was still keeping sat heavy between them. The Prince’s voice, cold and formal, only seemed to bury her deeper.

Her eyes widened at his declaration. His face might’ve been dark and hidden, but hers was not. Fear was stark across her features. But only for a moment. She looked away from him, like that might hide her thoughts.

Traveling to the blight lands. The memory of her last trek towards the blight was painted across her neck. It was the pale color of her hair. The broken shards of her voice.

Her grip on the book grew tight, her knuckles whitening. She couldn’t look at him as she nodded. Tia was nothing if not obedient.

Obedient to whom? To what end? All Tia had ever wanted was to help others – and now it seemed that any choice she made, someone was put at risk. The Arch Priest was relying on her. The Queen was relying on her. And now the Prince, so desperate for solutions… he still didn’t know about the two other visions she’d had. What if they were false, because Tia was still inadequate? What if he poured his resources chasing after a fantasy she’d dreamed up?

Tia looked back up to the Prince. She still couldn’t see his face clearly, but his eyes caught the light from the candle on her table. She nodded again, trying to seem more sure of herself.

She would tell him about the dreams, as he’d requested… after she could be sure they were worthy of his pursuit. Or perhaps the Arch Priest had replied to her by now, giving his blessing to freely share her visions. Tia prayed that was the case. But something about the way the Prince seemed so sure the Arch Priest couldn’t be trusted, contradicting everything she knew about him… Tia chewed the inside of her lip.

And as for the letters to the Queen… Tia felt the stiff envelope shift over the inner layer of her robe. It was an unanswered question bearing down on her.

Flynn's attention lingered on Tia's face, catching the fear that suddenly flashed in her eyes before she averted her gaze. For a moment, he wondered what the Arch Priest saw in her. What had compelled him to send her here to this desolate, icy wasteland? How could she be chosen to cut the thread of life for the former heir to the Aurelian throne?

Flynn had expected someone much more stoic, calculating and manipulative. Someone more molded for a task like this. And then, he thought—was this the Arch Priest’s way of being rid of her without getting blood on his own hands? There was something raw and uncertain about her, a vulnerability that made her presence here feel cruel. And yet, she managed to unravel him so easily. Maybe she was exactly the right person for the task.

For a moment, the urge to apologize, to acknowledge the weight he had added to her shoulders, tugged at him. But he forced it down, retreating behind practiced detachment. Sympathy wouldn’t keep either of them safe. Instead, he simply nodded an acknowledgement, his expression unreadable.

"I’ll let you know when we plan to leave," he said, his voice returning to formality, devoid of warmth. "Once I’ve finalized the details."

Without waiting for her reply, he made his way to the door. At the threshold, he paused briefly, his back to her, his tone colder than he intended.

"Thank you for your service to the crown."

_{Interactions/Mentions:@The Muse Kira, @PrinceAlexus Sya}

---

Gadez gradually had his serious expression turn more into an amused one. The young man before him clearly was displeased, if one would judge by his tone of voice and overall body language alone. This was a good sign to the vexing warrior-monk, it meant he could get under the skin of the seemingly younger man.

"If you have difficulty to discern a sober man from a drunk one, or what is what, upon the great stage of life, then you are way in over your head already, boy. Perhaps you are already neatly wrapped into a silk cocoon, but like my spoken words, you are unable to understand it." He said in a teasing tone, his words were picked to prod at the younger man. The whitehaired girl from the inn had something in mind, but before it could be fully put into action, Amaya had already spoken up.

"There's not much to devour when it comes to you wightling, like a book with empty pages, whose only use may be found in an outhouse." He said softly but in a taunting manner to Vellion, a smile on his lips.

Gadez had intended to follow wherever the gathering was heading to, but Amaya's words had made him reconsider it. She was displaying control, not just with her words but actions as well. She was trying to lead the man away from the gathering? Were she worried of causing more of a spectacle or potentially getting onlookers involved? No matter which were the case, he thought it was probably for the best. Two guards only to accompany her.

That Amaya was now comfortable enough to lead this man away, even holding unto him was enough telling that she seemed to have things in order. She was being more sly than people surely gave her credit for.

"Of course, my appologies." Gadez said softly, offering a butlerlike bow before he withdrew from Amaya, his gaze however was fixed on Vellion, an amused look in his ghostly blue eyes now, he was enjoying to mock the young man. He even went as far as to give the man a wink.

This man was the kind to likely hold a grudge, he would surely appear before him again. Providing Amaya would not dispose of him. She was after all from one of the two most dangerous families. Ahh, how some traits would be passed on to the next generation, although… not always the things one may suspect. He broke his gaze momentarily with Vellion upon leaving them abit of space, stepping closer to Aurora and trying to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They were leaving. The other whitehaired girl. Elara was seemingly going with them. The ghostly eyed blonde gave Elara a knowing look, following by a slight upturn at the corner of his lips. He didn't need to say anything to her, a simple nod was all that was needed.

"That'll do, little kittycat." He said softly to Aurora. "She will take good care of him. Do not fret." His voice was softer now, as he tried to convince Aurora to let Amaya, the two guards and Elara deal with the matter at hand.

"Though do take good care of yourself missy. There's more danger here than just the cold and a mangy mutt. Not talking about the malkin though." He chuckled softly and nodded in the direction of the cat following Elara, his eyes kept landing at Vellion.

He gave the man a knowing mocking smile back, as if daring him to try something.

'A puppet without strings, is not a puppet at all, but a piece of wood... for the fire.' He scoffed slightly and then tried to ruffle Aurora's hair.

"Let me know if that drunkard or anyone else pesters you, lil grimalkin. Afraid I have some unfinished... divine matters to attend to." He softly smiled and gave her an applogetic look, waiting just long enough for any replies before setting out towards the temple of Aelios.

@Qia@Fetzen@Dark Light@c3p-0h@BlackRoseSiren

As Sya comfort grew she let more of her tail out the water and began to visibly calm down again, Sya by virtue of the “Gifts” she had been given did not hide her emotions well on eye, or now body language. She was an open book if you read her right least as to her mood or how she felt about something. Oh she could keep a secret and maybe gossip a little but never secrets but if someone was openly flirting or so in the eye, that was fair game.

She turned to look at both of them, she would be glad to see them both at the Eye, they tended to have not been her regular customers and would be glad to add a few more, maybe hopefully friends to that. Sya was still very much a woman under the scales and cyclopian features, she hurt, wanted friends, to enjoy her life much as any other resident of the town. “Friendsss are always welcome at the Eye, as is Gold, both are always welcome under my roof. That will never change.” Sya was mixing a little hope and Sass into that one. She also was deeply proud of what she had achieved, even if Sya was still getting used how to handle the praise and respect she got.

“If anyone gIvessss you trouble, feel free to send them out the door. Painfully.” Sya had a slightly vicious undertone, she was still a blightborn and not entirely tame, friends however where firmly to be protected, she had a moral code even if it was a little…broken.

That unsurity came through when Kira made a rather passionate defence of her and statement of being more in one scale than the entire man. It was raw and had a very much unrestrained and direct honesty about it. Orion's respect was evident and he seemed to have a different aspect but the other side of the same coin. People seemed to value Sya and what she did and she could not hide the blush and flush of emotions as well as happy tears.

“Thankyou, you …. Do not know how it feels sss… Hard day...“Sya stuttered again and hissed before she moved more rapidly than most would expect someone with such a tail pulling Kira first and embracing her, she was impulsive and knew it, but right now did not care. They were blightborn but they were good people, even if they had their …problems.

She had to refrain from using her tail as her mind tried to humanise her gestures and stop her more… Snake instincts from overriding. Sya let a likely surprised Kira go, before she pushed away letting her muscular lower body glide through the water in a serpentine S pattern before engulfing him in a well meant hug too. “Your friendsss, now you have to drop by the Eye. Bring your gold and enjoy yourself.” Sya just said and a little of her unpredictable Sassy nature as she pulled back not before giving his pecs an appreciative squeeze, firm and muscular.

“He firm, no filler here, all quality steak this one, a good egg this one, Yolk and shell.” Sya said with a cheeky look to Kira as she found a place to recline again and drank a little of the wine. Snaking her tail through the water, Sya watched how the moonlight glittered off blue scales, deep blue and a mix of bright sharp highlights and deep blue moving under the steaming water.

Sya Leant back using her tail to return the wine in a show of dexterity, she had to use that as a method of practice to try and learn to use her limb, first standing and stability, second how to move and then finer controls. She could not be knocking things over and breaking everything about her new body. “My emotionsss are a little… over the place today. I can be impulsive.” Sya apologised a little, but she very much admitted part of her blightborn change was an impulsive nature.

Sya returned her tail closer to her resting it and leaving it half out of the water, keeping warm but not hiding either. She caught them in passing and was a sneaky way to work exactly where they sat, if she felt playful. Sya was a weird character, Foolish, lacking awareness or being dull where very much the opposite of her nature.

“Opps” she said though it was probably clear she was not at all sorry.

Mentions
@Qia@The Muse

Lord and Lady Coswain had a better view of this representation of the church than others, sure she was on the younger side but she had not seemed to have been dragged into political and other battles that some pushed instead of their duty to the moon goddess. Least that was their first impression. “It's less cute when her feet are as cold as a winter peak, but… I still love her regardless.” Lord Coswain said as he dragged it out teasing Persephone and giving the priestess a nod. Truth be told he didn't always feel blessed, he had outlived many people he would rather not have but then again.. He had his family.

“You're lucky I said yes to you” Persephone said with confidence but they clearly were not hurt feelings. “We have not been in ideal times, if you need some time, please take what you need. We are stuck here till spring most likely so not going anywhere.” Attempting a long journey into Lunaris in the winter over the mountains would be foolhardy at best. Persephone shoved a pain in her temple aside, and carried on. “I do mean that,” She said, trying to not command but state the facts, if they had to wait for her to get her things together to do it right, well what was a few more days.

The two looked at each other and their was no need to have a verbal extended conversation. After over 20 years you just knew and they nodded. “We would like you to do it. However we are happy to wait if you need to consult for advice and check what you need to send letters.” Adonis placed a gold coin down to pay for the postal service fees.

They both knew, they had talked and the question was not really a question, the couple gave a nod and carried on. “Subtle as a battering ram Adon…” Though she did not mind and he had tried to help, soldiers were soldiers. Some things never changed. Persephone Massaged her temple and waved it off, just a headache, she had them regularly since the whole eternal moonrise became reality.

“Anyone who wishes to attend is welcome, I'll ask Hector to ensure certain trouble makers stay out, we can always set Daphne on them. I'm sure the Lady Selene would agree, we need a little life in these times. its less custom but times are not normal.” Persephone said, though she could not hide the pain she was in or the fact however many times she had them her partner was making soothing circles on the back of her hand. Correction, he was her soldier, however elevated his rank. They used a different term but it meant the same goddess, the respect was the same though the name was different.

“As.. Ask Sya, her new bakery might be willing to help too. She is… a determined lady. She will make sure as long as you. Pay her.” Even a relatively forward thinking Lunarian It was hard to get over the idea blightborn were openly about, running business, and operating alongside many of the main roles in town. People could take change but slowly, however she did trust Sya to respect gold, and gold was a universal language.

The Pain and pressure grew and she needed some fresh air, she needed to get out… Something for a reason… She had to…”Excuse me, Adon, I need some fresh Air, please finish up for me, i'll be fine…I just need air… Sorry, the… i need air ” She got up and left, giving the priestess an apologetic look and walked out a little less steady as she headed for the door and the lake where the Temple lay on the shore.

“Sure Seph, stay close, il be over soon.” He spoke with concern, she got them and it still scares him however much he knew they would pass.

“My wife, she has had dreams ever since the night it got worse, she means no disrespect. It just gets too much sometimes for her to manage. I just hope this blessing helps in some way.” He could not hide his concern for Persephone and he trusted her to keep their secrets, she was a priestess in a Temple, his gut feeling was telling him she was trustworthy and honourable. “I have never done this before, so please let me know what Information you need, as I will do my best to help. Or you can ask us, my squire or my freinds aid any time.” He said smoothly, who knew if they missed anything or some small detail, Persephone deserved it to be right.

“Also, can you work in Sapphire Blue or purple, they are her favourite colours. I'm not just good with a sword. That and inwould like to add Aurlailans to any honour guard, as a gesture to the Princes unity.” He chose to add, "she would appreciate the touch, flowers are out, but whatever you can make do.” Flowers or greenery would not really be an option in times such as this but there Might be some way to bring her colours she enjoyed into the event. The touch about unity was political but the Prince was their main benefactor now, so they would support it in a small way.

He cast a look back, Persephone would not go far and he could easily track her path in the snow.

…

Persephone had made her way to the lakeshore and sat on a fallen tree looking towards the mountains, the feeling did not lessen, something was coming…

Mentions
@SpicyMeatball

---

Amaya’s pulse was quick as she walked arm in arm with the strange, threatening man. Her anger was proving difficult to sustain as the voices grew further and further away, and Amaya felt isolation seep into her with every step. He looked pleased with himself. Amaya kept her expression pleasant in return. All the while she listened to the crunch of boots behind her, assuring her that she was not alone with him.

This had been a foolish decision. Reckless. Dangerous in a way that she was ill-equipped to handle. But what options did she have? Allow the scene to continue at the inn, waiting for it to devolve into chaos? Escape him now, only for him to try again later (whatever it was that he was trying) and catch her off guard? No. This was the correct decision, she tried to tell herself. The crown didn’t second guess itself. It couldn’t afford to.

Amaya forced herself to not look back over her shoulder and verify the presence of the guards. All the while, her magic was restless and twitchy, begging for release.

“All this conversation, and I still don’t have your name,” she said, her voice sweet and light. Her arm was still linked around his, her hand trapped in his own. It forced their bodies close. She would need to get distance from him, she knew, before the guards could move. She just needed to last long enough for the right opportunity.

His eyes were distant, feet moving subconsciously beneath him, gone was his preternatural grace, a slight jerkiness invading his movements.

"Oh yes." He said distractedly a moment later. He turned to face her but his eyes went to the corner to suspiciously eye the guards. "True, we know very little of one another..." Why were people so insistent on following her, was she that rich?

His gaze rested gently on her, flicking between her face and the paths they walked. A warm smile took his lips.

"Rezith. Rezith Branshaw." He offered it without missing a beat. Then he looked to her expectantly.

“Amaya,” she replied, eyes trained on him. She watched for a response, any sort of recognition. He’d been so set on her, so snappish to everyone else in the crowd – why, if not for her station? As subtly as she could, she tested the range of motion of her hand in his grip. The movement could’ve simply been written off as her adjusting for a more comfortable position. How difficult would it be to slip out of his grasp?

She gave her name and a pleasant smile but as Vellion looked into her eyes he saw only walls. Then as if to confirm his fears her hand wriggled. He didn't let it free.

He smiled back, putting little effort into it.

"Amaya, that is a beautiful name and is as familiar yet unknown as your features." he mused.

“What brings you to Dawnhaven, Mister Branshaw? You’re a new arrival, are you not?” His dark eyes were fixed on her again, but not 'seeing her' like before. Thoughts raced frantically behind them.

"Chance and fate." He answered cryptically.

He paused walking bringing everyone to a sudden halt as he turned to look at a bit of non-impressive scenery. As he twisted to gaze over the view his mouth closely passed Amaya's ear. "This might sting a little bit please, give me at least a minute to explain before having me killed." he whispered quickly, short and sharp with a sense of pleading in it. "This is my first time to this town." he added aloud to continue the ruse as he tiredly ran his hand down over his mouth before placing it back on Amaya's arm.

What no one saw was him bite his tongue, or the blood he transferred from his mouth to his hand, or how the blood transformed into a thin small needle, or how that needle was stabbed through Amaya's sleeve and into her flesh.

Vellion didn't move, he just stood there wistfully gazing over the barely impressive scenery, hoping and praying she didn't react and gave him the time he needed. He had to ignore the intense suspense this moment created as all of his focus was on the thin connection bridging between them.

Amaya flinched back from the sudden pain — or she tried to, at least. But his grip was unrelenting. What had he done to her? Heart pounding, Amaya snapped her gaze up to look at him. Her sweet mask fell away until there was only caution and cold indignation.

“Release me,” she commanded. Her voice was low — the only hint that she was at all willing to hear him out, rather than alerting the guards immediately.

There hadn't been enough blood transferred. She wasn't giving him enough time. Her mind was closed off to him. Everything was going wrong. He could feel his end nearing. Oblivion eagerly circled him, reaching in from the edges of his vision. Ready to finally claim him and remove him from this world once and for all. He was caught in a trap of his own making. He had few choices left, like a cornered animal. He could cut his losses and reserve what little strength he had left to fight and flee, or... he could go all in.

"Ok," he murmured in defeat, no longer looking at her. But he did not release instantly. Instead giving one final push. There was nothing delicate or controlled about this. It wasn't a calculated or gentle swap of blood. From the cut on his hand to her arm, he gave one last squeeze and then push, flooding it into her system, it would not be pleasant and it would not be painless... for either of them.

Amaya let out a sharp gasp as pain like fire sliced into her arm, burning, pushing, forcing itself into her system. It flooded down her veins. Her magic was a living thing, with a twitching tail, hungry teeth, and more force than she could ever hope to control. It strained against the confines of her body, restless as Amaya’s focus waned.

The infusion left Vellion feeling lacking and weak. He let go as he stumbled back, temporarily made dizzy but still managing to quickly throw up his hood. Luckily his back was to the others so only Amaya saw his face. The gaunt hollowness to his cheeks, the dark rings under his eyes, one eye completely bloodshot and pale. He concealed his face under his hood as he tilted his head down to look at the ground.

Amaya stumbled back in turn, and she barely heard the shouts and clatter of boots as they rushed towards them. Metal slid against wood and leather as swords glinted in the moonlight. There was that same sensation from before at the inn, the ground turning to swirling waves, shifting beneath her feet. The gently falling snow picked up speed around them, answering Amaya’s rising panic. When she looked down at her arm, she found that her hand had instinctively snapped around it, over a fresh bloodstain marring the fabric.

Vellion didn't move but Amaya heard his voice echoed in her mind. It was but a soft whisper, and despite not being a physical presence, it still sounded tired and weak. "It's done, call off your guards before they see anything they can't unsee. I don't want to hurt anyone. If you want to know what I've just done to you... relax and listen."

It seemed to reverberate from her very blood, echoing in a way that made the rest of the world less solid. Her reality seemed… looser. Lighter. Amaya tried to force herself to focus – he’d done something to her. Injected her with something she didn’t know the ramifications of. Amaya grit her teeth. There wasn’t any time to be upset with herself, or to panic, or lose control. She had to think. A thin layer of frost began to cover her skin beneath her sleeve, blossoming over the fresh wound.

"Amaya!" His voice loud and stern, coming from his mouth and not her head, a pitch somewhere between a warning scolding and a begging plea as the guards continued to grow nearer. The time for choices was running out.

“Lower your weapons.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried all the same. The guards halted, casting confused looks at her.

“But, Your –”

“Now.” They hesitated before allowing the tips of their swords to dip slightly. Her breath billowed out of her like smoke from a dragon. Her eyes didn’t leave Vellion. She waited.

Vellion let out a heavy sigh and casually straightened his coat. The tension in the air was palpable. Everyone was so eagerly keen to defend this, Amaya. Despite the uncertainty and pointed steel blades surrounding him, Vellion seemed calm and confident hidden beneath his hood.

"Thank you."

"Amaya... just who are you?" he questioned rhetorically in her mind. His raspy whispered words slowly finding their smooth fluent form. Amaya bristled at the sensation of his mind intruding into her own.

Elara’s heart pounded painfully, each beat reverberating in her ears like a drum as her eyes remained locked on Amaya. The frost glinting on Amaya’s skin caught the pale moonlight, delicate yet unnerving, like a fragile warning etched in ice. Her stomach churned at the sight of blood staining her friend’s sleeve, the crimson bloom vivid against the dark fabric. The metallic tang of fear seemed to fill the air as Elara’s breath fogged before her, the cold biting at her skin.

What had he done to her?

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails pressing crescents into her palms as she fought the instinct to rush forward. This was Amaya’s moment to lead, to take control, and Elara knew she had to trust her. But the tension coiled in her chest refused to release, tightening like a noose with every passing second. Her gaze darted briefly to the guards, their forms rigid yet hesitant, before snapping back to her friend, silently willing her to show some sign that she was okay.

“Amaya,” Elara finally murmured, her voice carried by the stillness of the night as it gave away her presence. Her eyes shifted to the man in the hood, his posture deceptively relaxed but brimming with a quiet menace that set her nerves on edge. “What’s happening?” she asked, careful to keep her tone measured, though the question trembled in her chest like a caged bird. But Amaya didn’t look back at her. Something flickered in her expression at the sound of Elara’s voice, but her eyes never left the hooded man.

“A mistake.”

Elara’s gaze swept back to the guards, their hesitation palpable despite the dip of their swords. She could see the uncertainty in their eyes, the brief glances they exchanged as they waited for direction. Frustration burned at the back of her throat. She wanted to scream at them, to demand they intervene, but Amaya’s command had been clear. Elara exhaled slowly, the frost of her breath dissipating into the night as she wrestled with the helplessness threatening to overwhelm her. Her faith in Amaya clashed with the rising tide of fear, leaving her suspended in that agonizing space between trust and terror.

Regardless….the snow beneath her boots crunched faintly as she adjusted her stance, a small movement to prepare herself.

If Amaya faltered, even for a moment, she would be ready.

Meanwhile Valthyr was indignant. How could they dare to ignore him now that he was a fluffy cat trying to cuddle! With his heightened sense of hearing, the conversation got almost painful the moment the guards were given the command not to intervene. Valthyr's personal pride urged him to turn yet again and into a wolf, but reason told to stay the way he was even if more indignity was bound to come in.

He had picked up something though and it had clearly come from Vellion's mouth, an announcement of sorts that he'd do something... unconventional ? Given the fact that his feline nose could now smell blood, it dawned upon him what that 'unconventional thing' might have been. So arguably a blightborn this Vellion guy and not the most respectful one at that. While the stance of the druids towards this rather recent emergence was not purely negative, he could have done without one of them in the road at this point.

He could not allow himself to be left standing outside, yet was also eager to see the situation unfold further before distracting anybody. Cats did have some means to do so aside from just meowing -- to nibble at one's feet, for example! He'd do that if necessary.

"I just wanted to talk to you–”

“Alone.”

"That is all, this is all truly unnecessary. I'm not trying to hurt you," he said reassuringly as his hands went up in a placating fashion. There was no sign of blood or injury on the hand that touched her.

"I risked a lot, I have... well, I've been a little selfish too, but.." There was an audible sigh as he rethought his next words. His gaze remained downwards and he stepped away, but she could 'feel' him looking at her from inside her mind, his presence taking a spot in there.

Amaya’s thoughts spun as she tried to evaluate the situation – not helped by the odd weightless sensation she tried to wade through, or the buzzing of foreign thoughts and restless magic. Her heart hammered in her chest. There was that feeling of helplessness again – being small and out of her league and ill-equipped. But there was also anger.

He was blightborn. Though she’d second-guessed herself outside the inn, now there was little doubt of it, if only because the form of his psychic magic felt so alien from the standard Lunarian style she’d trained against. He seemed to mix into the very fabric of her consciousness, fluid and inseparable from the boundaries that made her. Amaya poked and prodded at the spaces in her mind that he filled, trying to find the seams that separated them. How much force would it take to push him from her mind?

She tried to remember what else she’d discerned about him at the inn. She thought of the way he’d frantically hidden his leg, refusing to let others near it. He hid his face the same way, now, hood up, distant, cast in shadows… but they’d all already seen what he looked like. It didn’t make sense to obscure himself now. Why hide a face they’d all seen?

What else was there? He was desperate for something. Desperate meant dangerous. He snapped at anyone who wasn’t her. Why? Why so set on her, if he didn’t even know who she was?

"What harm is there in hearing a lonely man's words?"

Amaya’s eyes narrowed.

"Consider this the dying request of a fool. You can have your guards kill me when I am done. I don't care." The voice circling in her head was soft now but raw. Strung tight with emotion and unfiltered by charm or honeyed words. Amaya felt something like pity tighten around her heart at the sound, but she didn’t trust it. Not after all he’d said and done already. He put his hands out before himself, wrists together.

"Bind me if you wish, if that will put you at ease."

The invitation had barely left his lips before the world exploded in a flurry of white. Almost without her command, her magic lashed out. The guards shouted in surprise, blocking their eyes with raised arms, ice freezing along the edges of their blades.

Location: City Streets Alchemic Chambers.| Collaboration with @The Muse

---

Through the frigid, icy streets of Dawnhaven, the lanterns flickered softly, casting a warm glow that danced upon the crystalline pathways beneath the star-studded sky. Nathaniel walked a couple of steps alongside Eris, deliberately keeping a cautious distance to avoid slipping on the treacherous ice that blanketed the ground.

As they strolled, the mention of Ayel drew a deep sigh from Nathaniel, his head tilting back slightly as he absorbed the chilly air. A faint smile crept onto his face, momentarily brightening the sombre atmosphere. With a chuckle, reminiscent of the fond yet exasperating memories shared with the pompous nobleman, he remarked, ”He can be a bit of a handful. There have been instances where he just couldn't help running his noble mouth a little too much.”

He paused, the silence punctuated by the gentle crunch of snow underfoot, preparing to delve into a specific tale. "Once, he berated a few servants over something utterly trivial," Nathaniel recounted, letting the moment linger as the chill of the night settled around them. ”My older sister—Isabelle—who possesses quite the temper, took matters into her own hands and, without a moment’s hesitation, punched him straight in the face.”

A small laugh escaped him, the sound bright and warm against the backdrop of the cold night. "We ended up fined quite a bit because of Isabelle's little outburst.”

A giggle escaped Eris’ lips at the memory he shared, her breath visible in the crisp air. She could only imagine the shock and rage that must’ve gone through Ayel in that moment. How dare anyone touch his perfect face?! Honestly, her imagined version of an angry Ayel was a little scary.

She tilted her head thoughtfully, still smiling. “I can’t even imagine how upset Ayel’s family must have been.” she giggled again, imagining how red faced with anger their mother must have been. The Raunefeldt family had always taken their appearance rather seriously.

“I admire your sister for standing up to him, though.” she glanced up at him, her amusement faltering, replaced by a faint feeling of sympathy. She hadn't known Isabelle personally, but she knew her name and the tragic weight it carried. She had heard through the grapevine that Nathaniel’s elder sister had been sent to the Aurelian border in the name of research, only to vanish without a trace. Rumors spread that she had been taken by the blight—just one of the many.

“She sounds remarkable.” She added, careful not to say that she sounded remarkable. She was not one to assume anyone was dead these days—not without concrete proof. She held onto hope.

But what was worse—dead, or risen by the blight only to become a feral monster? If Nathaniel’s sister had been taken by the blight, then hopefully she would be like the many who had come to Dawnhaven, having found their humanity again. Perhaps, one day, she would return.

As they made their way through the vast, snowy tundra, new flakes cascaded silently from the endless night sky, settling gently onto the ground. The delicate powder was crunched beneath their boots, creating a soft rhythm that accompanied their movements. The tranquillity of their journey was briefly disrupted when Eris posed another question, her voice breaking through the stillness.

A wave of tension rippled through Nathaniel; he felt a flush of embarrassment rise within him, slightly overwhelmed by the need for honesty. "True, I could have kept dancing with her,” He began, his voice low and contemplative. ”But it just wasn't as enjoyable with that dance partner I had previously.” He spoke softly, the hint of emotion in his tone blending seamlessly with the crisp air that whipped around them. It was difficult to tell if the warmth on his cheeks was from the admission or the biting cold, but he pressed on, compelled to share.

A faint, shy smile tugged at her lips as she pulled her gaze away, pretending to focus on the snow-laden path ahead. Though she’d never admit it out loud, she was pleased with his answer. A soft buzz of warmth stirred in her chest, an almost giddy feeling that made her feel simultaneously foolish and exhilarated. Heat rose to her cheeks. Was he flirting? Or was she completely misreading the situation?

Goddess above, she was terrible at this sort of thing.

She stole a quick glance at Nathaniel from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his expression, but the soft glow of the torch lights made it hard to read his features. “Oh?” she fought back her own smile from rising further. “She seemed a little rusty on her feet, to me.” she quipped, a playful look in her eyes.

Too shy to even make an attempt at flirting back, Eris quickly busied herself by brushing away some stray snowflakes that had settled on the ends of her brunette hair.

Turning to meet her gaze, he found himself entranced by her striking blue eyes, which glinted like icy pools under the night sky."Can I ask you this? Why did you leave? You seemed a bit upset about something,” He gently inquired, his curiosity laced with concern.

Eris met Nathaniel’s gaze, his question making a slight frown form on her lips despite trying to seem nonchalant. “I just… I felt like I should probably get back to work.” she said quietly, shrugging. “There’s a lot of people depending on me, you know?”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking downward as she got lost in thought, deliberately leaving out the part about how she had felt out of place. The unease of watching Nathaniel move so gracefully with Daphne, the way the woman’s effortless and confident charm had made Eris feel small and inadequate. Quickly, she brushed the thought aside.

---

As they reached the alchemy chambers, Eris unlocked the door with a soft click, her fingers frozen against the icy metal doorknob. Stepping inside, she held the door open for him. Once Nathaniel stepped in, she gently closed it behind them, engulfing them in momentary darkness.

Nearby, Eris picked up a candle from an end table near the doorway. With a subtle flick of her finger, a tiny flame sprang to life, casting a warm glow across her face. She moved quietly through the room, using the single candle to light others scattered around, the dim glow gradually illuminating the space. Shadows danced along the walls as the room came alive with a warm, golden hue.

To the right of the entrance, bookcases lined with well-worn tomes surrounded a seating area, where a fireplace sat dormant, its embers long dead in the ash. The faint scent of aged parchment and dried herbs lingered in the air. To their left, a spiral staircase wound upward to the higher levels—to the spaces that she had grown to call home over the last two months.

Nathaniel surveyed the myriad of displays that enveloped him, his eyes finally settling on the towering bookcase that loomed invitingly beside him. The very thought of perusing its eclectic collection of books sent a delightful shiver skimming down his spine, a sensation that mingled with the remnants of the frigid air that was beginning to dissipate. An astonished whistle slipped through Nathaniel's lips, a spontaneous expression of admiration as he took in the sheer allure of the titles that beckoned for his attention.

“Well, this is it.” she said, glancing around the first floor. Behind her, hallways branching off into the dark hinted at more rooms beyond. The fact that there were no candles already lit let her know that none of the other sages were here. They were likely out enjoying themselves at the feast, which made her happy. They deserved a break.

“The labs and workstations are back here.” she explained, gesturing for him to follow her. With her candle in hand, she walked down the hall, the flickering light leading the way. The sound of her footsteps echoed faintly against the wooden floorboards, emphasising the stillness of the building. As they moved down the hall, she paused intermittently to light wall sconces.

Nathaniel trailed closely behind Eris as she navigated the winding corridor of the Alchemy chambers, each thud of his boots creating a rhythmic echo that resonated against the stone walls. He couldn't help but ponder the other sages who inhabited this place, each one likely harnessing a unique form of magic that tantalised his curiosity. As he walked, his eyes drifted to Eris’s cascading brunette hair, the strands shimmering softly in the flickering candlelight. They danced lightly with each step she took, leading his gaze down her back, where the gentle curve of her form caught his attention. Her hips swayed slightly, a hypnotic motion that left him momentarily distracted. Nathaniel shook his head, "Stop staring at her rear." A mixture of determination and embarrassment urging him to refocus on their surroundings. Yet, amid the intrigue of the Alchemy chambers, he couldn't entirely dismiss the allure of the moment, as he marvelled at the enchanting figure before him.

Eris stopped at one of the first doors in the dimly lit hallway, her free hand reaching out to grasp the handle. She opened it with a quiet creak, stepping aside and lifting her candle toward the inside, allowing its light to spill into the room. The space was a private office, its walls lined with shelves crammed full of books and various artwork. A large wooden desk dominated the center, two chairs facing it, with papers spread haphazardly across its surface alongside neatly arranged quill pens.

“This is where the Prince and his advisor usually meet with the blight-born for interviews before admitting them to Dawnhaven.” She glanced back at Nathaniel, her expression thoughtful. “We keep track of them—ask about their experiences, their abilities, what mutations they inherited from the blight… what they need.”

Her eyes lingered on the desk for a moment, imagining the conversations that had taken place there. The ones she had avoided out of fear, despite the Prince having invited her to each meeting. She gave Nathaniel a moment to take in the room before stepping back and closing the door again.

Her footsteps echoed softly as they continued down the hall, passing door after door. Some were left slightly ajar, revealing workstations cluttered with books, charts, and unfinished experiments. One of the larger rooms they passed was open, the air thick with the faint, earthy scent of dried herbs. Inside it was filled with shelves overflowing with herbal medicines, potions, and small labeled jars.

At the end of the hall, Eris stopped again, pushing open the door to reveal a sprawling workspace. She stepped into a large room filled with alchemical supplies—rows of bottles, racks of potions, and tables piled with notes, vibrant samples, and apparatuses.

Nathaniel slowly scanned the workstations surrounding him, taking in the varied states of organisation. Some desks gleamed with precision; every item was neatly arranged as if the occupants took great pride in their meticulousness. In contrast, other workstations were a chaotic jumble, strewn with crumpled papers, scattered notes, and half-finished parchments. At first glance, the hastily scribbled notes resembled nonsensical doodles, but Nathaniel found himself thinking that they likely conveyed some vital insights to the individuals responsible for them.

As his gaze wandered, something peculiar caught his attention, compelling him to dart over to one of the more disorderly work areas. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a delicate white quill perched precariously next to an open inkpot. The inkpot, with its dark, glistening liquid, posed a significant risk of waste if left uncovered. He felt a pang of urgency, understanding that a careless moment could result in a regrettable mess.

Carefully, he reached for the worn quill, noting how its once vibrant feathers had faded and frayed from the countless hours of writing it had endured. It felt surprisingly comfortable in his hand, a testament to its frequent use. Without hesitation, he dipped the fine tip into the ink, ensuring that the pot was properly sealed to prevent any potential spills. Satisfied that he had mitigated the risk of waste, Nathaniel turned on his heel, making his way back to Eris.

Moving further inside, she lit a few more candles along the way, casting a warm glow across the cluttered space. “This is usually where I am.” she said, glancing around, slightly embarrassed that she had not cleaned up her workstation very well before leaving this morning.

Her gaze moved on to a far table, where a soft, eerie purple glow emanated from a single vial. It lay beside a sealed glass bottle containing a sample of a withered crop, its edges faintly luminescent with blight. The vial seemed to strain against its confinement, pulling faintly toward the crop as though compelled by an invisible force.

Nathaniel stood in awe as he took in the sight of Eris’s workspace, a small enclave brimming with her scholarly pursuits. As the lead sage of their group, he had expected a more organized haven for her to conjure her brilliant ideas. Instead, he was greeted by an almost chaotic landscape of papers and paraphernalia. Crumpled notes, many scrawled with her hurried thoughts, lay strewn across the oak desks, a testament to her relentless creativity and tireless dedication.

As Eris glided toward her desk, her presence seemed to command the space despite the clutter. Nathaniel couldn’t resist allowing his gaze to wander back to her, captivated not only by her brilliance but also by a certain charm that radiated from her, even amongst the chaos of palm-sized scrolls and hastily abandoned experiments. "Stop it."

Eris approached the table and picked up the glowing vial. The vial trembled faintly in her fingers, pulling against her grip as if it were alive, desperate to return to the corrupted crop nearby. She turned back to Nathaniel and held it out toward him.

“This is the blood that led to the discovery.” The faint purple hue from the vial illuminated her face as she explained, the light shifting subtly with the vial's movements, reflecting in her eyes and making them appear almost violet.

Nathaniel's attention was entirely ensnared by the small, delicate vial of mesmerising purple fluid that Eris had carefully presented to him. The light in the room danced upon the surface of the liquid, causing it to shimmer with an otherworldly glow.

”Fascinating...” He murmured, his voice trailing off as he became lost in the depths of the vial, which held the elusive and rare blood of a Blightborn—a commodity he had long sought after. Throughout his endeavours, he had learned that most Blightborns were not welcoming; their instinctual hostility often made the extraction of their blood a perilous undertaking. However, Nathaniel had succeeded where others had failed in his encounters, his determination and cunning always serving him well.

Stepping closer to Eris, he maintained his intense focus on the vial, his heart racing with possibilities. ”You mentioned that the magic that triggered a reaction was Light, correct?” he asked, his voice steady yet filled with curiosity as he leaned in closer, eager to absorb every detail.

His mind whirled with a torrent of theories as he continued to scrutinize the vibrant liquid inside the vial. ”I've always theorised that the blood of a Blight-born would always be different.” he mused, cupping his chin thoughtfully while lost in contemplation. His gaze flickered between the vial and Eris, a spark of understanding igniting within him. ”Since each Blight-born never has the same abilities, their blood would too.” he exclaimed, the revelation unfurling with clarity like the petals of a flower in bloom.

Eris nodded in agreement, her eyes flickering briefly to the glowing vial in her hand. “You’re right,” she said softly. “This blood isn’t like any other I’ve come across. It’s thicker than usual. And the color…” She trailed off, lifting the vial slightly, watching the light play off the swirling purple liquid.

With care, she stepped toward the shelf where the blighted crop was contained. Placing the vial down just a few inches away, she watched as it rolled slightly with a soft clink, pressing itself firmly against the other bottle.

With excitement bubbling within him, he began to scan the room for a suitable work surface. ”Is there a desk I could use here?” he inquired. "I want to stay here with you, to brainstorm ideas that could help us and explore other types of magic that you might not have considered. This could lead us to significant discoveries!” He simply said to her.

Turning back to Nathaniel, she caught his gaze and felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness. He wanted to work here—in her space? Her stomach fluttered with an odd mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. Normally, the other sages were scattered up the hall, each absorbed in their individual tasks. She worked alone more often than not, preferring the solitude to dive deep into her thoughts without distraction.

“Oh, uhm...” she stammered, her gaze darting around the room. “I can definitely set you up with your own workstation tomorrow, but for now...” She moved toward one of the desks on the opposite side of the room from her main workstation, the surface cluttered with stacks of scribbled notes and sketches.

Eris carefully gathered the papers into a neat pile and moved them to a nearby counter where an assortment of empty vials glinted faintly in the candlelight. “There,” she said, brushing her hands together as if to mark the task complete. “You can work here.” she offered, her tone polite.

Having someone else here felt... strange. Not entirely unwelcome, but foreign and unexpectedly intimate. Her workspace had always been a haven of quiet focus, and the idea of sharing it—especially with someone she just met—was a little unsettling. She had never adjusted to change very easily.

Yet, if she allowed herself to admit it, there was something comforting about not being alone in the dimly lit room. Perhaps it would be nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of, to help pull her from the cyclical spiral of her own thoughts. Still, she felt a subtle pressure to entertain, to talk, to distract.

“You know, I did want to start preparing for the journey to the blight lands. I need to make a list of all the supplies we should take.” She began to drag an extra chair towards the table so they could both sit at the freshly cleared desk. She paused just before sitting down, feeling a subtle need to cater to her guest—something that had been ingrained in her from childhood. “Would you like some tea first?” she asked, her eyes meeting his, a soft smile on her lips.

Nathaniel meticulously adjusted the two wooden chairs, angling them just to create a cosy nook that allowed both the use of the vacant desk and an inviting atmosphere for conversation. Once satisfied with their placement, he felt a wave of comfort wash over him. He methodically removed his coat, a dark wool garment that had provided warmth against the chill outside, and draped it over the back of one chair, letting the thrush against the polished wooden floorboards below.

His gaze turned to meet hers, and an inexplicable warmth spread through him as he noticed her soft smile illuminated by the gentle light streaming from the dimly lit candles. When she inquired if he would like some tea, he returned her smile with genuine appreciation. “Yes, I would love some, thank you,” he replied, his voice imbued with kindness.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, he remembered the small treat he had brought along.”I have some Aurelian shortbread in my satchel; we can enjoy it with the tea,” he added, eyeing her with a hint of enthusiasm.

“Oh, yum! I haven’t had that in so long,” she admitted, her smile growing. “I’d love that.”

His satchel, a well-worn leather bag that bore the marks of travels and treasures, hung comfortably over one shoulder. With a deliberate motion, he slid it off and placed it on the chair that cradled his coat. As he rummaged through its contents, the familiar feel of paper and fabric brought a smile to his face. He uncovered several neatly written notes, along with delicate sketches of people and landmarks that spoke of his adventures.

After a moment of sorting through, he uncovered a small, cloth-wrapped object nestled at the bottom of the bag. Carefully, he set it on the desk and began to unwrap it, revealing several golden pieces of shortbread, each perfectly baked to a crisp, inviting texture. He looked back at Eris and, with a sense of camaraderie, moved a fraction closer to her side. Channelling his innate manners as a noble gentleman, he offered, ”I’ll gladly lend a hand in making the tea, then we can discuss more about this expedition and what we'll need.” His voice carrying a warm invitation to share the moment.

She hesitated, her thoughts tangling. Now he wanted to help with the tea too? Tea wasn’t hard to prepare… and the idea of bringing him into her private quarters upstairs felt far more intimate than having him in her workspace. Then again, did she really want to leave him alone here? Did she trust him enough, this handsome stranger who she had only really ever heard rumors about? He could dance well, and that’s about the only thing she was certain of with him. The whole situation felt overwhelming, a stark departure from her usual solitude.

Eris hesitated, fumbling over her words. “Oh, uhm... I—” she paused for a second, allowing herself a breath to collect her thoughts. “That’d be great.” she managed to get out, glancing up at him with a sheepish smile. “The kitchen is upstairs, just follow me.” she said, gesturing toward the door. Before leaving, she picked up a nearby candle, then led the way down the hall, tracing the steps they had just taken to get there.

She led him back to the spiral staircase, the soft glow of the flames casting a warm glow upon the stone walls as they ascended. She paused briefly at the landing to light a few more candles, illuminating the corridor that led to each room of her living space. Once in the kitchen—filled with shelves of jars and herbs all neatly arranged—she began to rummage through her small pantry.

Retrieving a tin of black tea leaves, she set it on the counter before reaching for two cups and a teapot from the cupboard. With a wave of her hand, she drew moisture from the air, conjuring water to fill the teapot. A soft glow flickered around her hands as she channeled another thread of her magic, steadily warming the water within. When the water reached the perfect temperature, she poured the tea into each cup, steam curling upwards.

Turning, she handed Nathaniel a cup. Leaning back against the counter, she cradled her own cup in both hands, letting its heat seep into her skin. For a moment, her thoughts wandered as she soaked in the normalcy of sharing tea with someone. It had been so long. It almost felt wrong.

Nathaniel gently reached out and took the delicate cup from Eris, their fingers briefly brushing against each other—a fleeting connection. Once she relinquished her grip, he cradled the cup with both hands, savouring the comforting heat radiating from it, a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. ”Thank you,” he said softly, a genuine smile spreading across his face, lighting up his features.

“This is nice.” she mused, glancing up from her cup to meet his gaze. “Better than that ale.” she joked, a playful smile reaching her lips this time.

He lifted the cup to his lips and took a slow, sip, the tea enveloping his senses with a rich, fragrant warmth that seemed to seep into his very core. The exquisite balance of sweetness. When Eris made her little comment about it being better than the ale they had earlier, he nodded. ” Indeed. I haven't had a good cup of tea in weeks,” he remarked with a hint of nostalgia, savouring another warm sip. ”It's a shame there's no music playing; otherwise, I'd ask you to dance once more. But we can save that for another time,” he mused, his voice tinged with a playful tone. Eris smiled at his playful remark, a faint blush rising onto her cheeks.

As his gaze locked onto hers, a curious warmth blossomed within him, quickening his heart rate to an unfamiliar rhythm. He pondered whether it was merely the heat of the tea or something more profound—a connection that lingered in the air between them.

His mind began to drift back to his days among the sages back home, reflecting on their oft-critical opinions of Eris. They had branded her a loner, someone who kept to herself and had little regard for others in her circle. How wrong they were, he mused, returning his focus to her radiant smile. In truth, she was not only beautiful but also exuded a kindness that felt rare in their world. If she were as sequestered as they claimed, she wouldn’t have so graciously offered him a desk beside hers, nor would he be here, within her private quarters, sharing a quiet moment over tea.

Bringing his thoughts back into the present, he found himself intrigued about her life before this moment. "Do you spend time socialising with the other sages who reside here?” He asked, his voice steady yet imbued with genuine curiosity. The question hung in the air, inviting her to share more about herself.

Her expression shifted slightly, her gaze dipping to the swirling steam above her tea. Of course she socialized with her colleagues. She spoke to them every day as they shuffled in and out of the Alchemy Chambers, she greeted them every morning, theorized with them, answered their every question.

And yet, she couldn't deny that she kept them at arm's length. The sages were coworkers, and nothing more—not friends. Despite the journey they had endured to get here, and the last two months of working so closely together—never friends. She didn’t allow it. Work and personal life were to be separate, and she needed to stay focused.

With a small shrug, she replied, “Sometimes,” she said, her voice quieter. “We meet every day to discuss our work, to share progress and ideas, but… that’s about it.” Her fingers traced the edge of her cup as an uncomfortable silence stretched between them for a moment.

“Well, I guess we better get to it.” She said, breaking the silence and shifting the focus of the conversation back to her comfort zone—distraction by way of work. Balancing her tea in one hand, she picked up a candle with the other and began heading toward the spiral staircase. As she descended, Nathaniel followed quietly behind.

Trailing closely behind Eris, Nathaniel cradled his steaming cup of tea, its warmth barely calming the fluttering nerves in his stomach. The dimly lit hallway stretched out before them, the flickering light of the candle she held casting dancing shadows on the walls, barely illuminating the way ahead. As he watched the soft glow highlight her features—her determined expression and focused gaze—he felt a sudden surge of courage rising within him.

He opened his mouth to speak, words tumbling forth in a rush before he could fully grasp them. “Eris,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with earnest sincerity, “I wouldn’t just love to spend more time with you in a professional capacity…” He hesitated for a moment, the weight of his vulnerability settling on him like a heavy cloak. “I—I would love to spend time with you in general.”

As the words spilt out, he felt them hang in the air, full of unspoken meaning. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, each thud matching the echo of their footsteps on the wooden floor. If it weren’t for the sound of their movement breaking the silence of the corridor, he wondered if she might have heard the frantic rhythm of his heart betraying his poise.

The thought of sharing moments beyond the confines of work stirred an unexpected fluster in him. Why was it so easy to feel unsettled, to succumb to this peculiar blend of excitement and anxiety over what seemed like a simple question? Was there more to it?

Eris glanced back at Nathaniel, her expression softening with a faint smile. He caught her off guard, and for a moment, she felt a strange flutter of excitement in her chest. And she couldn’t help but question it.

Why was he so drawn to her already? And, even more unsettling, why did she feel a faint thrill at the thought of spending more time with him? Her mother’s meddling must have had something to do with this. Surely, she’d filled Nathaniel’s head with exaggerated tales of Eris’ supposed brilliance, charm or notoriety. All lies in order to get him interested, hoping that her daughter would want to settle down and return to Aurelia. Had that been his only reason for coming here?

“Careful what you wish for, Nathaniel.” she teased, her tone light and playful. The words were a deflection, a barrier to her rising suspicion, and a way for her not to fully address what he had said. Whatever had just passed between them, she wasn’t ready to linger on it—at least, not yet.

Without waiting for a response, she turned her gaze forward as she continued down the hallway. Once they reached her workspace, Eris retrieved a notebook from a nearby shelf and carried it to their shared deskspace. Setting it down, she slid into one of the chairs, her expression thoughtful as she opened it. “We’ll need healing herbs, certainly,” she mused aloud, reaching for a pen and beginning to jot down a list.

“Probably….” she murmured as she tapped the pen on her lower lip, staring at the parchment in thought. “Probably most of my supply, just in case.” she lifted her gaze to Nathaniel, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Hopefully, we won’t need it all… but you never know what we might find out there.”

Sitting down beside Eris, Nathaniel shifted in his chair to face her, his posture conveying both interest and engagement. As she animatedly shared her extensive knowledge about various healing herbs—her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm—he listened intently, his pen gliding across the notepad he had balanced on his knee. He nodded frequently, jotting down key points, his mind buzzing with the possibilities of her insights.

With one hand free, he reached out to the shortbread that sat on the desk he had placed before, choosing two pieces. He handed one to Eris, their fingers briefly brushing together, and savoured the buttery sweetness of the other as he took a modest bite. ”I have a small amount of healing herbs that I brought with me; I can part with them," he said after swallowing, his voice laced with sincerity and a hint of determination. He followed the decadent morsel with a warm sip of his fragrant tea, feeling revitalized.

As he contemplated their upcoming expedition, an important detail struck him that needed addressing. ”Well...” he began, his tone shifting to a more serious note, "We'll need to accommodate the people who will be coming along with us.” His pen met the page once more with a gentle scribble as he recorded his thoughts. ”For instance, we’ll require tents to provide shelter for everyone. If we can do that, some people might have to share it with others. Not to mention we’ll need individuals to help protect those who can’t fight”

Setting her tea aside, she bit into the shortbread, her eyes fixed on Nathaniel as she listened to his thoughts, her head tilting slightly in consideration. “I’m certain the Prince will take care of the logistical details—tents, protection, and all of that. I trust his judgment.” She paused, glancing at her notebook again. “We can focus on what the Sages can offer—herbs, potions, magic…”

His gaze locked onto hers, steady and earnest. ”I’m committed to this, ready to discuss this the rest of the day if needed.”

A light chuckle bubbled up from his chest, breaking the intensity of the moment. ”We'll likely need more tea if that does happen,” he added playfully. The thought danced in his mind that perhaps they should shift their discussion to her living area, where they could comfortably settle in without the constant trips back and forth for refills, allowing their thoughts to flow freely without interruption.

She smiled, nodding in agreement. “You’re not wrong.” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I should have brewed my entire tea supply.”

Glancing back at her notes, Eris took another bite of the bread, her mind quickly refocusing and running through scenarios of everything they could possibly bring to help with the expedition. As she scribbled another note down, she stole a glance at Nathaniel. His brow furrowed in concentration as he, too, wrote down a note.

It was… nice, she realized, to have someone who genuinely seemed to want to help her. Even if his original motivation might have stemmed from her mother’s intervention, it didn’t change the fact that he was here now, fully invested. Many of the other Sage’s simply waited on her to come up with an answer rather than help her.

She shifted her gaze back to the notepad, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Whatever the reason for his arrival, she found herself grateful he was here now.

---

Mentions: Ayel @Dezuel

---

Kira barely had time to react as Sya’s embrace engulfed her, warm and damp from the water of the hot spring. Her entire body stiffened in shock, her arms awkwardly hovering mid-air as she froze, unable to process the sudden skin-to-scale contact. What was she supposed to do? Pat her back? Return the hug? Say something?

Before she could decide, Sya released her and slithered toward Orion. Kira blinked, part of her stunned at Sya’s boldness, the other half entirely fixated on Orion’s reaction. Her gaze darted to him, noting the way water slicked off Sya’s body and soaked into his clothes as she wrapped him in a similarly overzealous hug. It was almost comical, if only Kira could have shaken the discomfort that now overwhelmed her senses. This level of personal invasion, she hadn’t experienced in years, and was completely caught off guard.

Kira’s eyes flickered back to Sya, who now seemed utterly carefree, her mood lifted as she reclined with her drink in hand. The innkeeper's gratefulness tugged at something within—maybe guilt, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. Kira’s defense of her had simply been incidental, driven by her seething disdain for that pompous nobleman. It wasn’t about friendship.

It wasn’t as if she disliked Sya, but she didn’t particularly like her either. She was nice enough, sure, but Kira wouldn’t go as far as to call her a friend. That felt… excessive. If standing up to an arrogant idiot was all it took to earn someone’s friendship, Sya’s standards were far too low. Or perhaps Kira’s were far too high. She’d always been careful about who she let close, wary of people’s intentions, and that cautiousness left her unsure of how to handle someone as open and impulsive as Sya.

The water suddenly felt stifling, and Kira realized with growing clarity that her time in the hot spring had run its course. She shifted, rising from the water with a quiet grace, “I’d better get going.” she said, moving toward the edge of the spring. The crisp air bit at her skin as she stepped out, her naked body quickly heading for her neatly folded clothes. With her back to the others, Kira hurriedly dried off and dressed, focusing on the motions as a way to push down the lingering awkwardness.

---

_{Interactions: Orion @Qia, Sya @PrinceAlexus}

---

When the world quieted again, the stretch of road surrounding them was free of snow. Instead of loose powder on the ground, it had coalesced into icy, spiraling stalagmites that twisted around his legs, up his body, anchoring him in place. Twin icicles wrapped around each other, rooted to the ground and twisting around his wrists and hands. The ice stretched high above his head, continuing and meeting in a spiraling point that shined in the lamplight.

Vellion gasped loudly, caught by surprise but suspended by awe. He hadn't seen that coming. Hell, he had never seen a display such as that. Her power almost had him questioning his decisions. She was far more than he had previously expected. It took him a moment to realize he was securely stuck.

As snowflakes fell to the ground like dust settling, the buzzing in Amaya’s veins quieted, soothed by the release. That weightless feeling grew – it was a heady mix of relief and adrenaline. She tried to breathe through it. Her arms were raised in the night air, the afterimage of her casting. She lowered them as she cast an evaluating eye over her work. It felt… foreign. Like it hadn’t come from her at all. Too great, too quick, too instinctual, when before her casting had been controlled and precise.

She grit her teeth and forced herself back to the present. The crimson on her sleeve was larger now, blood pushed out by her pounding heart. Evaluate. Control. They were all looking to her. The guards, Elara… Amaya felt the weight of their eyes on her skin like a blanket of snow coating the mountaintop. Her gaze didn’t leave the hooded man as she spoke.

“He injected me with something.” Amaya forced her voice to steady, to be controlled and unhurried. She held her bloody forearm out to the side in silent request. It would need to be looked at sooner rather than later – Elara’s healing abilities were why she’d been selected, afterall. She thought of this morning, the way Elara had offered to get her a drink, if only to have some way to take care of her. The way she saw through her careful performances like no one else could. Amaya wondered what the scene looked like — what she looked like — to Elara’s eyes.

Elara had seen Amaya cast before, but this... this was something else entirely.

The jagged, spiralling ice that ensnared the hooded man glinted with a cruel, almost otherworldly beauty beneath the moonlight. The sharp, biting air seemed alive with residual magic, a faint hum that pressed against Elara’s skin and rattled through her chest. Even the guards, so disciplined and steadfast, shifted uneasily where they stood.

Amaya stood at the center of it all, her arm extended slightly, a crimson bloom spreading across her sleeve. Elara’s gaze locked onto her friend’s outstretched hand, noting the faint tremble in her fingers and the frost still clinging to her skin. Without a second thought, her feet moved instinctively, carrying her closer to Amaya.

“Let me see,” Elara said softly, hovering her hands just above the injury. The familiar tingle of magic sparked to life in her fingertips, a sensation that buzzed softly like distant chimes in the wind. Cool and soothing, the energy coursed through her hands, pooling at her palms before spilling into Amaya’s wound. She drew upon the moonlight above, its silvery glow weaving into her spell like threads of liquid light. Shadows at her feet stirred in tandem, responding to her emotions with a gentle but purposeful shift, as though they, too, sought to protect the princess.

As she continued to heal, her eyes flicked to the twisting, jagged ice encasing Vellion, the shards glinting sharply under the moonlight. “What exactly did you give her?” she asked. Her sharp gaze locked onto him as though daring him to deflect or deceive. All the while, the shadows at her feet curled and uncurled like restless tendrils, mirroring the tension threading through her body.

Elara coerced no reply from Vellion. His hood shuffled as beneath it he altered his gaze. The glimmer of distant torch and moonlight flickered in his hungry eyes, drawn to the bloody cloth and closing wound. Involuntarily, driven by subconscious desire, his tongue rolled out across his lips. Oh how badly he yearned for just a taste.

Amaya’s eyes narrowed as she watched him, how he shifted and licked his lips. Another piece of the puzzle found its home: his food source.

Blood.

“Answer.”

"Nothing!" he finally growled aloud in response. "Come check my pockets if you don't believe me," he taunted.

His mental connection to Amaya was fast fading, his presence in her mind softening. Whatever he had done, or was doing, seemed to be weakening by the second. Be it her resistance or his weakening power, soon he wouldn't be able to communicate with her. Sensing this fraying connection he spoke faster and more hurriedly in her mind.

Words flooded into her head. He knew if he wanted any semblance of trust from her that he was going to have to start offering real truths.

"It was just my blood so we could speak in private, and yes, I can and did play on your emotions. You are not the only one with magic." He tugged on her anger a little flaring it up for a second before fanning her curiosity briefly. He quickly relinquished them both along with any traces of his involvement. His demonstration was an obvious one so that she might perhaps see that she was not being manipulated now.... or was she. How much control did he have? How much insight into her mind? Amaya was disoriented, unsteady, with the lack of control she had over her own thoughts. She thought of how he’d all but hypnotized her outside of the inn. How much more potent would he be, now that he was in her blood?

His words in her mind seemed even quieter, more distant after that. "But everyone is always doing that already. From the way they dress or the tone they take. Fluttering an eyelid or sharing a well placed smile. I just have other tools at my disposal. Look, Amaya —"

“It’s his blood.” Amaya’s eyes were like ice as she watched him. “He’s using it to communicate telepathically, because he mistakenly thinks he’s entitled to any privacy at all with me.”

The revelation churned in Elara’s mind, a searing mix of anger and protectiveness that burned away the lingering chill of the night.

“You used your blood,” she said, her voice like a blade drawn in warning, “to force your way into her mind, to manipulate her emotions, all while hiding behind your lies?” The disgust in her tone was unmistakable, her anger tempered only by her concern for Amaya.

She shifted closer to her friend, her body instinctively moving into a protective stance. The chill of the night bit at her exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the frost in her veins as she confronted the man before her. “What gives you the right?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly as her shadows coiled tighter, a reflection of the fury she kept carefully contained. “Amaya doesn’t owe you anything—certainly not her trust.”

Elara’s gaze flicked to Amaya, noting the faint crimson bloom still marring the fabric of her sleeve. “If he’s still in your head,” she said, “We have to push him out somehow.”

Amaya’s eyes met hers, a flicker of fear moving through them beneath the anger.

Vellion hadn't expected Amaya to so bluntly blurt out his confided confessions. An unjustifiable pain of betrayal coiled up in his chest, slowly reforging into anger and then a malice as cold as the ice around him. He knew telling her the truth was a stupid idea, nothing good ever came from the truth.

Stuck there in the icy tendrils, surrounded by accusations and mistrust, head hung low, Vellion let out a soft chuckle. Apparently he found amusement in his dire situation. Powers seemingly depleted, he had little left to influence this situation, but never nothing.

Vellion was a predator, through and through. A hunter in life and even more so now in death. The blight has adapted him to this new world. In the space of cleared snow, there was no way anything was approaching him unaware – even a small, ordinary-looking car. His every sense caught onto the creatures movements, for there was nothing natural about a cat coming at him through the ice, or even hanging around after Amaya's magic.

"She really cares about you."

The echoes of his voice chilled Amaya to the bone.

A voice eventually came from out under his hood, but it was not the smooth enticing spell he had once used. This voice was something else. Something old. It was strained and coarse. There was a lacking to its articulation and a faint chilling hiss under every word. It held in it an utter disregard for all things. It was as dark and empty as the moonless hours.

"I did! Because I can. These gifts were given to me, that is my right!" He snarled at Elara.

"Maybe my attention has been on the wrong person."

A slender hand reached forward to curl around Elara’s wrist – like Amaya could pull her back, away from the hooded figure.

"You want to be free of me? Of my influence? You have two options."

"Why could you not just hear me out?"

He had only given the cat as little thought as he had because his attention was needed elsewhere. But now, who was he to question fate when it finally decided to throw him a bone, or in this case, a free meal. He continued to ignore it as it climb up him until the most opportune moment.

"You can bleed it all out. But I promise you it has mingled far. Or distance will also set her free. I'd say the festivities should be far enough. Either way, do it soon before I change my mind... or hers."

"Would be a shame if something were to happen to her due to someone else's petty ideals of justice."

Amaya stopped breathing. Her hand tightened around Elara’s wrist in warning, blood dripping between the seams of their skin.

Just what kind of unconventional party had Valthyr just crashed into unintentionally ? His thoughts had picked up on their pace, hidden from everybody in full spite of his now feline head harboring them being in everybody’s plain view if they only wanted to look at him. The fact none did would make his next move a bit more surprising perhaps: he released a feral hiss, then jumped at the blightborn with claws extended! It was quite the leap to get him over the icy prison Elara had fabricated, but there also was a reason why people said that cats formed their own, pseudo-fluid state of matter with their body fitting through everything their head could fit through.

Valthyr could have done nothing and just walked along until they finally reached the temple, he had even considered doing just that bit of nothing for a moment, but it had felt just too uncomfortable for his conscience. Also that nice, thick fur clad him in more than just protection against the elements. It also gave him an aspect of anonymity or at least so it felt for the druid.

The feline crawled up along Vellion’s leg and onto his back to then scratch violently on his clothes. He was digging up all the textile fibers he could get a hold of and continued to hiss and meow angrily. Not that he expected to do any damage to Vellion’s body, at least not until he would somehow have managed to punch a hole into these clothes, but that was not the point. A bit of returned pain was enough and it was even fun to do it from this different perspective. When did circumstances give him this opportunity the last time ? Valthyr couldn’t even remember.

As claws stuck into his clothing, Vellion tore his hands free and grabbed at the cat. If it had drawn blood, it was even more stuck. Only the foolish would believe his arrogance wasn't warranted. His arms had been free since his first attempt but he allowed others to have the illusion of safety. It was not through strength or brute force that he found freedom, no, why fight the ice. His arms simply weren't the same thick muscled appendages of a young man that they once were, no longer taking up the same mass that the ice formed around.

His sleeves tore and remained frozen to the prison but his arms slip out with lightning speed only incurring a few minor abrasions around the wrists. The injuries were near unnoticeable along his unnatural sickly arms. Skin marred with old injuries and even the odd strip of loose torn flesh.

Amaya’s eyes widened as she pulled back on Elara’s arm sharply, staggering a step backwards. The two guards shouted, swords raised in an instant.

Vellion cursed them all. Why had they forced him to reveal himself? He had only ever sought to explain himself, to make a deal and feed from one, without anyone else ever knowing. Now, overcome by hunger he would devour this cat in front of them all and who knew what would come next.

The closer guard – more senior, more experienced, more willing to get his hands dirty when the time called for it – lunged. Sir Abel’s sword glinted with moonlight and frost as he swung for Vellion’s neck. The other jumped into the space between the threat and the two women, sword raised. The time for standing down was over.

The attack nearly caught Vellion off guard in the way an army charging down a hill with a war cry in their lungs might surprise an opposing force. He knew it was coming just not when and while he didn't expect it so soon, he still had plenty of time to react.

He disregarded the feline, leaning and twisting below the blade maneuvering in closer to the too-eager-to-die guard. The two handed swing was heavy and full of momentum. Vellion followed it pressing up against the guard and grabbing him, trapping his sword arm across his body, at the same time putting the guard between him and everyone else.

Face to face with his attacker, for a moment they stared into each other's soul. Then with a deathly inhuman snarl, Vellion's jaw stretched open perhaps wider than should be able and bit at the man's most exposed part, his face.

Amaya couldn’t fully see the act from behind the other guard – but she could hear it. The pained scream, the snarling, the tearing.

The blood splattering on the ground.

A horrified sound tried to wrench itself from Amaya’s throat. But her voice was silent.

“Run!” The guard’s command was sharp, cutting through the chaos.

Elara’s breath hitched as the guard’s scream tore through the frigid air like the cry of a wounded animal. The scene before her was chaos incarnate—jagged ice glinting like shattered glass, shadows flickering madly in the torchlight, and the haunting snarl of the blightborn that had thrown their world into disarray. Her gaze darted to Amaya, heart tightening at the sight of the frost crawling up her friend’s arm, its crystalline tendrils spreading like a living warning.

We have to leave. Now.

“Amaya,” Elara whispered, her voice low but urgent. The cold bit at her skin, every breath a visible puff in the icy night. “We need to move. That frost on your arm… I don’t want it to spread.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “And it might, if we stay.”. And that, under any circumstances, could not occur. Not here.

Amaya tore her gaze away from the guard’s back to finally look at Elara. Her eyes were wide with naked fear.

The other guard stepped in to grab Vellion, but his effort was rewarded by a powerful boney fist to the face. As he staggered back the blightborn ripped his sword from his scabbard and spun...

Abel's head thudded to the floor a moment later. Vellion was now visible through the shower of blood spurting from the headless body. Amaya looked back just in time to see it. This time she did scream. It was short and high, piercing the air. Ice crawled and crawled her way across her skin. But she didn’t notice. All her attention was on Vellion.

His hood back, mouth covered in blood, face a ghastly gruesome sight, dead eyes alight with carnage. In that moment he saw Amaya from around the remaining guard’s body. Their eyes locked for a stuttering heartbeat.

“Your Highness, run!”

Hand tight around Elara’s, Amaya turned and ran as fast as she could.

Valthyr had jumped of Vellion’s back the moment the latter had decided to do something that Valthyr had been unable to see, but certainly able to hear and, later on, even smell. At least the snow was gone in the immediate vicinity so that only helped with his speed, but he only stopped once halfway burrowed into the white stuff again a few more feet away.

He had seriously underestimated Vellion. That man was crazy, very crazy! And that put it mildly… One without a face – no idea whether this village actually had any healer that had any hope of salvaging this – then without a life, and two women who obviously were rather scared by now. And frankly to some degree was he himself.

Shift? Not shift? The wolf would have had tremendously better chances against this blightborn should the need arise, but the transition was risky due to it neither being instantaneous nor safe from putting anybody else into yet another shock. Who’d expected a fluffy cat to turn into an oversized wolf ?

No, he would stay the way he was and follow the two women who ran away. As long as this Vellion guy would not return, he would probably be safe and still had a chance of achieving some of his own goals.

The recent injection of blood, Abel's blood, had Vellion’s voice enter Amaya’s mind with a thundering clarity and force, even as the distance grew.

"Amaya... it didn’t have to be this way. This is your fault. You and your little pet. Until next time my pretty snow dove…”

And as if on cue, Sir Abel’s body slumped to the floor and the other guard charged with a short blade. Vellion was stepping back against the young man's rage and was soon disarmed. Weaponless, he snarled and then ran. The guard looked over his shoulder to see the others running, before turning back to Vellion and giving chase.

“Fly."

Elara’s breath came in short, ragged gasps as she sprinted alongside Amaya, their hands clasped tightly together. The icy night air stung her lungs with every inhale, sharp and unforgiving. Beneath her boots, the snow crunched in uneven rhythms, muffling the chaos behind them but doing nothing to ease the pounding in her chest. Her heart ached, each beat heavier than the last, and she dared a glance over her shoulder. Vellion's ghastly form blurred into the distance, the carnage they’d left behind flickering in her mind like a nightmare she couldn’t shake.

The shouts of the guards faded into the background, replaced by the relentless pounding of their footsteps against the frozen ground. Amaya’s grip was ironclad, a lifeline of fear and desperation that tethered Elara to the moment. Every step sent jolts of pain through her legs, but she forced herself to keep moving, her voice a shaky whisper as she urged her friend onward. “We’re almost there. Just keep going.”

When they stumbled into a narrow passage between two wooden buildings, the world finally seemed to pause. Elara collapsed against the rough slats of one structure, the wood cool and solid against her trembling back. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her, every muscle in her body screaming from the exertion. Around her feet, her shadows curled and flickered, restless, reflecting the turmoil roiling inside her.

“Amaya, what were you thinking?” The words burst from Elara in a broken whisper, her voice shaking with barely contained emotion. Amaya jolted up at the sound of her voice, their gazes locking. Elara’s eyes, wide and dark with fear, locked onto her friend, who stood hunched over, clutching her frost-coated arm. “That man…he would have killed you.”

Panic, shock, guilt, grief... it was all a petrifying mixture that filled Amaya until she overflowed. She was shaking. She could barely breathe. Tears were already freezing in tracks along her cheeks.

Elara’s chest heaved, and hot tears blurred her vision, defying her attempts to blink them away. “I can’t lose you,” she choked out, pushing off the wall and reaching toward Amaya’s frost-bitten arm. “Please, promise me…promise me you won’t do something like that again.” Her gaze searched Amaya’s, seeking some semblance of assurance, of understanding.

“Please.”

Something shattered in Amaya at Elara’s plea. Any excuses she had, any justifications, the explanations for her choices… they all seemed feeble and naive. They died in her throat like fresh sprigs trying vainly to push through a thick layer of frost. She’d been such a child. Her mind seemed to spin at breathless speeds and freeze in place at the same time. There were no thoughts – only memories.

Sir Abel’s dying scream.

Blood staining the snow crimson.

The voice in her mind, echoing, Would be a shame if something happened to her…

I can’t lose you either.

Amaya gave a stuttering nod before throwing herself into Elara’s arms. It was less an embrace and more desperation. Like she hoped to keep Elara anchored in a storm – or stop from flying away herself. Her whole body shook violently, whether from the cold that still spread across her skin like a virus, or the tumult of emotions that threatened to drown her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over again through her sobs.

They couldn’t stay there in that alley. They didn’t know if the guard survived, if the hooded man would find them again, if they were safe – they needed to find somewhere protected. They needed to tell someone about the horror that had unfolded.

But if the goddesses were merciful, they would allow them this brief moment of holding their hearts against each other and remembering that they were both alive.