Daphne

Lunaris Temple

Medical hand holding is a thing. Temple. Of the Heart....

Daphne heart skipped a little as she felt Katherine , Kat Snuggle into her side and joke about them being closer once they were out of their heavy outdoor kit… that would be very enjoyable she thought, the cute blonde so close she could kiss her with just a small movement… Down horny brain she thought as she kept their hands together and helped her crush calm down and find her centre.

She needed care not sex or making out right now, and Daphne was the one who right now had managed to push past the panic and be her rock. Daphne listened quietly to Katherine and just kept a reassuring pressure on her hand and enjoyed her closeness next to her. Damn her crush was coming thick and she felt way beyond her normal… ideas of such things.

She was very different from the Amazonian woman's life, so very different. Daphne never had such challenges but she recognised they both had had a harder start and they both had shared in fact they lived lives that left them a little sheltered yet forced at same time. She was not a fool and opted for her tone, her words and her choices…she was careful, maybe too careful but she did not expect her to be unguarded however natural and easy the kiss felt between them.

Chemistry yes but that was not automatically trusted. So Daphne thought how she might have met…well it probably would mean Daphne was rather too distracted and in trouble because her brain wanted to kiss Kat and not to remember what Coxswain and others said.

“You had a rough time, but nice soft lips, powers and fate can be difficult.” She said mischievously but also kindly and did not dig beyond however she did feel for Kat. She recognised something happened earlier but decided to not ask, they could open that up more another time when Kathefine chose to do it. “My master was Lord Coswain, but I spent more time in drill yard than Castle….I was…a difficult Trainee at times. lords and ladies got the inner castle, squires drink and enjoy dancing in the outer yard, not the great hall. Probably more fun though.” Daphne Said with a grin, she had spent the flats night drinking to music with ale barrels and fire lights as they celebrated with far less social rules tying them down.

She did not judge her for her father, or whom he was, Kat was Kat, Katherine in public to be her kind she saw Kat. “Your away now, you can be who you want to be” Daphne said optimisation in her voice and rested her head against Kats she she rested against her shoulder. Close… comfortable. Even in the Temple, it was strange but she did not feel uncomfortable being close here.

“I'd be in so much trouble daydreaming about you. or what you'd do to me.” Daphne to her comment, if they met sooner… She certainly was distraction worthy and Daphne free hand squeezed her thigh with a little cheeky gesture.

She supposed she ought to explain her own story properly…more than just the cliff notes argument. “I'm…a Orphan as best I know, I was raised as a Temple foundling, no castles, no Lords, my father I have no idea, my mother was an Officers favourite. All I know.” Daphne said quietly and paused as she suppressed her memories but she kept going after a pause breathing slowly and taking her own advice.

“Not much to say, I joined when I left, not much else in Cadia, it's brothel or barracks mostly. hardly a place for nobles.” She said frankly, her town was known for soldiers and soldiers spending their gold… It was a rough town but home. “I caught attention, Lord and Lady Coswain are … well they kind of took me in, in a sense. Im. One of them, good and bad.” Daphne Said as she recalled her slow transition when she began to become more considered part of household and family than just a Squire. Like a slowly growing tree, she never noticed till it happened.

“that's me, You have cold feet if we get stuck overnight? Its small, but i do not mind cuddles.” Daphne said in a cheerful tone and ended on a flirty note, that she did not expect the alarm to go on all night but that was an option that could happen depending on what the guards found. Right now Daphne was comfortable with the pretty priestess.

Being stuck would not be soooo bad.

Msntions
@SpicyMeatball

"Hmmm," the sound Desmond said as he listened to Nesna's alternative source of payment. So she does not have the coin, he thought and made a mental note not to assume. More so with people he does not know.

When Nesna put her gold earnings on the table, Desmond studyied them first with his eyes with a curious nature, and then he picked up one of them. Inspecting it and once he was satisfied, he put it down with a confirming grin. "Well, this is a... unorthodox payment and they do look like solid gold." Desmond took a moment to think and tried not to seem nervous or frightened, with her staring back at him with all four of her eyes. Why do brightborn have such... imposing features? He thought, but tried to keep the focus on the business at hand.

"With how much the tea would all cost and the gold earnings you have here. I think I will humor you and accept this unusual type of payment." Desmond added, and his tone changed a bit," but do not make this a habit, and things should be fine." Though he did wonder what else she was willing to barter with.

Returning to a more friendlier tone, "so is there anything else you wish to discuss now that payment has been dealt with?"

Interactions - @enmuni

@c3p-0h@SpicyMeatball@The Muse

Aliseth

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Guard Tower

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The wind hit him unexpectedly, that was a surprise, but he was quick to react, softening his knees, leaning into the force and twisting his body to offer less resistance, shuffling his feet as needed to remain balanced. A glance was thrown back at the perpetrator, lady Hightower, but it's meaning and or the thoughts behind his eyes remained a mystery.

Charlottes outburst only earned her the faintest of eye rolls and softest of sighs. Though his movements were little and his words non existent, his eyes and demeanour were filled with heavy condescension, disdain and disappointment. He looked upon her like a lame child or injured livestock.
Before much more could come of it, the very person she was over dramatically defending pushed her aside with magic.

'Fitting', Aliseth thought to himself as already Elio push her to the side with the same disregard Aliseth was sure the mason showed all his conquests. He had squared up, standing tall just as Elio's punch came hurtling towards him. Making no attempts to dodge it, Aliseth only waited and stared, eyes intense, the faintest hint of a curl in the corner of his lips. The impact never came. Instead Elio turned and walked away.

"If someone else dies tonight, I can confidently say my time, efforts and actions were spent actively trying to avoid it." He firmly announced.

"Can you say the same Elio? Were you not in the tavern when the bells rang? When the crown ordered the streets empty so the guards could do their duty, protecting the people. Tell me, how are your self serving impulses and desires ensuring anyone's safety? Once again you are only occupying valuable time to sate your precious ego.
Your actions have consequences Elio, people die and get hurt because people like you can't see beyond themselves."

"And you!" His eye's turned to Charlotte, a fire in them.
"I do not have time to list your subordination. That was a pathetic display regardless of what faction you are from.
He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose between them, feeling a headache coming on. Speaking more softly he carries on.
"Surely you are not deaf so I'm left to conclude you chose to neglect your duties in favour of entertaing your friend.

He let out a sigh and opened his eyes, looking back to Lady Hightower. He gave her a soft almost apologetic nod, a softness in his eyes but also a tired weariness. He was trying so hard, stretching himself thin and carrying much responsibility under his heavy title.

Turning back to Charlotte.
"By next mid moon you are to present at the southern gate with a Full report of all your actions since the last. Until then you are to accompany Lady Hightower and fulfil any request she has. Her safety however is your first priority and comes before any attention from the opposite sex, do you understand!?"

The punishment could have been immediate and harsh but Aliseth needed able hands. He barely waited around for a reply, giving Eris a formal bow, excusing himself, then walking off into the endless dark of a moonless sky. There was greater and more pressing duties to be done than escorting nobles, reprimanding foolish subordinates or punishing egomaniacs.

There was still a killer on the loose and it was clear no one else could be trusted to take care of it.

Flynn hesitated by the door after stepping out, lingering in the dimly lit hallway. Doubt gnawed at him—was he making the right decision by leaving them alone? He wanted to stay—wanted to make sure Amaya was all right, to keep Elara in check. But his sisters had always just needed time. Surely, Amaya and Elara would be the same. Given space, they’d work it out between themselves. They’d come around.

Exhaling softly, he nodded to the guard stationed outside the door before descending the stairs, his boots heavy against the wooden steps. Reaching the front door, he pulled it open, the cold air biting at his face and stealing away the last traces of warmth Amaya had left there.

Outside, an Aurelian guard stood in gleaming silver and gold armor, turning at Flynn’s arrival. The man inclined his head in a respectful bow.

“Your Highness,” he greeted.

Flynn returned the gesture with a nod. “Any updates?”

The guard’s expression remained hidden behind an expertly crafted helmet, “Nothing yet, but the entire force is combing the area. Lunarians included.” He gestured toward the outskirts of the forest, where torches flickered between the trees, casting long shadows as the soldiers scoured the terrain.

Flynn’s lips pressed into a fine line. The news was disappointing, but he tempered his frustration. His gaze drifted down the pathway leading into town, where darkness swallowed the road.

“There is one other matter,” the guard continued. “A prisoner has been taken in—thought you should know.”

Flynn’s attention returned to the guard, brows lifted slightly, waiting.

“A man was arrested for treasonous words against the crown,” the guard elaborated. “One of the champions of Aelios detained him.”

That caught Flynn’s attention.

The guard hesitated for a beat before adding, “I hear it was a…. puppeteer? Apparently he held a show at the Eye earlier?”

Flynn sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Of course. The man had been brave enough to insinuate treasonous words right to Flynn’s face—of course he’d be even bolder in front of others. Flynn would have to deal with this at some point, but not now.

He gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

Stepping back inside, he paused before fully closing the door. “When the Priestess and Lady Hightower arrive,” he instructed firmly, “send them up immediately.”

The guard bowed his head in acknowledgment then resumed his watchful stance, scanning the dimly lit streets. Flynn closed the door behind him and exhaled, steadying himself.

For a moment, he lingered in the entryway, his mind racing. What if they never found the creature who attacked the princess? His heart clenched at the thought. Surely the guards could track the creature… couldn’t they?

Suppressing the building anxiety, he moved toward the living room, where the fire crackled in the hearth. The warmth was welcome, but it did little to ease him. He grabbed a nearby log and tossed it into the flames, watching as embers curled upward. He took his time, letting the minutes stretch to give Amaya and Elara more space upstairs, but his thoughts spiraled.

How could he better protect the town? How could he protect Amaya? What was one man to do against beings they barely understood—beings infinitely more powerful than them?

His hand raked through his tousled blonde hair as he stared into the fire, lost in thought. He needed to speak with Orion.

Minutes passed before he finally turned to leave, but as he reached the living room entry, nearby footsteps echoed down the stairs. He paused, glancing toward the staircase just as Elara appeared, stone-faced and formal as ever. She descended quickly, her posture rigid, and without a word, she swept past him and out the front door.

Flynn frowned as his gaze followed her. He hadn’t expected her to leave. Elara had rarely left Amaya’s side in the months they’d been here. What had shifted?

His gaze lingered on the closed door for a moment before he finally turned, ascending the stairs. The guard still stood outside Amaya’s door, standing at attention as Flynn approached.

Reaching for the doorknob, he froze at the sound of the front door opening again.

Flynn exchanged a glance with the guard before stepping toward the banister, peering down to see who had just entered.

---

_{Mentions: Elara/Orion @Qia, Amaya @c3p-0h, Gadez @Dezuel}

Valthyr and Lord Coswain

Ravens n Wandering

Ending. Lunarian Temple.

It was a somewhat erratic flight as every sudden surge of pain in Valthyr’s left wing caused the raven to dip down precariously, only to recover again rather shortly above the ground. That way, Lord Coswain would also be able to keep track of the man-bird’s progress as they moved back towards Dawnhaven. It appeared that there were no further threats there to be seen, even though at least he was very much aware of the fact that there still were some out there, likely.

Valthyr had no clue about how the Lord’s house looked, not even if he actually had one or could merely call a slightly more luxurious bunk in a milita’s barrack his home. He just made sure not to lose track of the heavily armed man as he traversed the skies well above his head.

He had not lived long enough to be a Lord by being stupid. They were all dead and gone, he was still alive so he was not going to let his guard down. a glance up it was hard to tell where the bird was but he knew it would be up above somewhere and he knew the route back to the town as he rested the heavy sword, his shoulder pauldron with his dagger in the other hand for quicker use. He had sent the guards to their duties and honestly he did not know the metal of the men assigned to the town, he would rather trust Daphne, Hector and his wife over them for now. It was not like the Prince had made the best showing.

He really just wanted to get a hot meal right now before he got dragged out on some other duty, if the goddess was merciful he could focus on his wife instead, which he would not lie was far higher on his mental preference.

Not much else to do he resumed the trek back to town and whatever awaited.

Through the frigid air whizzing past his feather-clad ears, Valthyr could still hear the clanking of Coswain's armor from deep down below. The atmosphere wasn't exactly clear, but one reason for that could be the stench of many chimney fires now seeping in. As much as this was an unwanted by-product of Dawnhaven, its presence was not entirely unwelcome to the druid as it was a clear sign of how close they already were without truly knowing.

The man-bird decided to grasp the opportunity that presented itself to him: Had the Lord ever seen a completely docile raven from very close up, ever ? Like... sitting on the man's shoulders like close. As a human he would likely have halfway flattened Lord Coswain and as the wolf turned him outright two-dimensional perhaps, but now he really just weighed as much as a humble raven.

He crowed on his next, this time more gentle dive down to alert Coswain, then flared shortly before his feet touching down on the shoulder plate. Wings tucked away and feathers de-ruffled back into proper positions, small black eyes looked at the Lord's face just half a feet away or so.

For a man who lived in strange times, dark times and a seeming end to all hope, he had never seen what happened to him…happen. The noise and a rush of air and displaced wind as a caw sounded and soon he had the sound of claws clattering onto the metal of his shoulder guards. He adjusted and slowed his pace till the bird found its balance and carried on.

Today has been a odd day, a odd place.. least this one was not trying to kill him, get him killed or run away increasing his chances of the above. ”Sure, You helped me, i'll help you. Suppose we better find you some clothes.” He said directly but not harshly, it was a cold night and he had left them goddess knows where In the town.

”Friendly. Royal Guard” ” He called out when they began to reach closer to the town, the last thing he wanted to be was shot by a jumpy guard with a crossbow.

Valthyr felt a slight anxiety encroach upon him as he saw the guards and some crossbows first aimed at them and then put down again as Coswain issued orders. What were these people thinking right now ? He could see pairs of greedy eyes tracking not the Lord, but him as he just sat there on the man's shoulder. Clearly that was highly unusual to say the least, but then again... wasn't this whole village ? The guards probably, hopefully, considered him to be some sort of pet until further notice.

His claws clattered a bit further on the shoulder plate as he turned left and right to inspect his surroundings. A raven's field of view was quite different from a human's and he had not yet seen the part of Dawnhaven they were now entering anyway. What a hell of a day had that been so far: Arriving, entering a murder scene, receiving instructions from what he could only suppose was the prince of the very kingdom of Aurelia... Only that Ayel guy was someone he could happily forget about.

”Keep leaving it like that and youl shoot yourself, at least keep the bolt out if you want it drawn.” He said as he spotted a guard who seemed all.too comfortable with his crossbow. Familiarity was one thing but he knew how dangerous forgetting it was a lethal weapon. He made his way past the guards without pause, he knew it looked odd to have a shoulder Raven but damn it was not kind of imposing.

It had only taken a few minutes to satisfy the guards, his damaged armour and sword discoloured from the acidic blood was pretty well in his favour.

Once he had passed the guard post and they were somewhere quieter away from the way they entered and more inside the town again. ”So, what's next? Clothes? food? I'm not directly under the commander, so my place here is…grey tl say it shortly.” Lord Coswain admitted, just status in the town and so was… certainly complicated.

A raven’s throat had been designed by nature to do anything but replicate a human voice, but Valthyr tried his best nonetheless and uttered a ”Clothes.” that was on the verge of becoming unintelligible. Given that there had been only two possible interpretations in the first place, he still held hopes for Coswain understanding what he was trying to say.

He was unsure why he asked that but somehow the crazy again worked out, the Crow come man made a cow that was longer and vaguely worded like… Food was a short word and this was longer, so that had to mean clothes… It made sense in a very dumb way. If it worked however?

”Pretty sure we came from…. This way we go, i'm like some figure from the borderlands old religion's.” He had a limited understanding of the town as barely had time before 7 days of enforced waiting by snow as he walked with a crow on his shoulder.

”Just give me a tap when you think i'm going off track.” Coswain was Well honestly unsure utterly what he was doing in life right now, but he would help someone who had volunteered to fight alongside and they needed help. He could respect that and it was that and it led to the Temple too where his wife lay resting too.

He remained vigilant and just shared a few words as he met passing guards, he had seen nothing and he thought that the main force should have returned to town square or be on the way soon.

It almost seemed as if the Lord was asking him for help, but didn’t the Lord know that Valthyr could beat his rather tight limits on understanding Dawnhaven by a very large margin ? Frankly speaking, man-raven had no clue about when or when not to give a tap. He needed to finally turn back to a human and start talking, but preferably without being naked in the freezing cold and with people watching. The druid knew that his clothes had to be where they had started the unsuccessful hunt, that was the only clue he had.

As they traversed through town, Valthyr finally spotted something that gave him some hope for the rest of the evening not ending in disaster: the tavern. That was the only fixed point he could remember and he could now try to reconstruct what had happened next from memory. Rushing out together with Daphne, running into Flynn and Mr. Unbearable, then heading to the crime scene… Too bad that his own, fluffy cat trails had vanished already and his far too large wolf tracks had not started there yet. He could spot a couple of human tracks that roughly went into the direction he remembered the crime scene was located though. Hopefully nobody had fully cleaned that one up yet, then it would be easy to find the place where the unsuccessful hunt had begun. His clothes had to be there still.

The raven crowed a second time and pointed his beak into the direction of the tracks. He also unfolded his left wing to give Coswain’s cheek a gentle, feathered nudge.

Being directed by a Raven was certainly an odd experience, he saw lights in the tavern from afar, it's windows were barred and little lines of light were visible from closed shutters that were probably blocked. He had decided to aim for the crime scene, they could trace from there hopefully bird…man..cat..wolf could locate it from there. That seemed the right plan as he heard a caw and a wing brush his weather beaten skin.

”Sure.. ok, i think we are on the right track?” Coswain asked as they headed into the streets off the sides of town, did it look about the right direction?

He had ran off at such a pace and was so focused they had a rather fuzzy idea where things were.

The raven answered with yet another bird-like sound – a pretty binary way of communicating, but it worked somehow so far. According to Valthyr’s memory they were getting closer indeed, and ultimately there was confirmation in the form of a small heap of shaggy clothes appearing in the druid’s field of view. He flew off Lord Coswain’s shoulder almost with a sense of joy in his moves, but the injury on his left wing, arm, paw or whatever other shape it could take instantly reported back painfully. The landing was more of an accident than anything else, but still soft as it happened on the druid’s own shirt.

He would really have liked to be able to tell Coswain to just turn away his eyes for a moment, but he couldn’t. So the transformation back, including the brief intermediate stage of a very big, rather bulked up and naked man trying to get back into his stuff as quickly as possible, had to happen in plain sight.

”Still no shoes and no home, but… hopefully I will be able to fix that.” he could now finally speak in a more intelligible way. The druid took a look at his arm and it did not look good. Large blood clots had already haphazardly sealed the wound, but it was a dirty mess of a depth yet to be investigated.

”Do you know a healer in this place ? I basically just arrived two hours ago or so and have no knowledge about this village. Except how to be dragged into trouble instantly, it appears.”

Lord Coswain decided to turn the corner when a large naked man transformed into being, so he gave him his space. It had to be bad enough to get naked every time you needed to do something like that. And that mad was not small, he made Coswain who already was not exactly small in all his armour and kit…feel small. That was a challenge.

” Sya might have room at the Inn as long as you got coin or work, in short term.” He said with an easier tone now he was talking to another human, talking to a bird was … weird he had to admit. He rested the sword and sheathed it with a pained expression at enemy acid marked blade, he had neutralised it best he could but damn that was not expected.

”Welcome to Dawn Havens quiet peaceful life. Adonis Coswain, Lord Castellan formerly anyway of the Captial.” He said with a laugh as he gave a proper introduction, having been in rather less social situation.

”Normally id know, but everyone's going to be locked down anywhere they are. With Feast, Inn perhaps , maybe the lodge? Prince gotta have asked healer to check on Princess, Hold still big guy.”

He pulled at a pouch and found a clean cloth he kept and tightly bound it over the wound area to keep any more infection out. ”Pretty sure Prince sent a sage to the Lunarian Temple? That's another option? I'd rather find a safe than an army surgeon. ”

He asked, he was not sure of the best approach and wondered what the giant Druid thought would be best for his injuries. What idea would work best for the man though?

”Valthyr Naffron. I just arrived, so I really appreciate your sharing of knowledge.” Coswain so far had appeared to be a nice guy, so maybe there was a glimmer of hope for the druid’s stay in this interesting place. ”I’ll try the sage then.” He had never been in an army, so the reference to one of their surgeons made much less sense than it probably did for most other people, but ‘surgeon’ in itself sounded more like his arm would be chopped off than the actual problem be fixed. Added bonus points for sage being a Lunarian. This was a special place, but still he would feel more comfortable in the hands of someone who comes from at least roughly the same region as he himself instead of someone who might have had his or her fair share in the war.

”You… don’t also happen to know where one might get some shoes ?” Valthyr pointed down onto his feet which still had to make very direct contact with the snow around them and put up a slightly ashamed smile. After all this, he must have appeared like someone who could barely solve everyday problems to get along in life, didn’t he ?

Truth be told, Lord Coswain was not a nice mam at times, he had done horrible things for the King in his name, Lance Company had been remorseless, brutal and excited orders regardless of how they felt. They were not good men and women. They just got the job done. But it also did not mean he could not respect a comrade of a sort though.

”Well met. After all this over, I suggest we get a bloody ale, though not sure even if i can afford to get you drunk.” He said to a rather massive man with a Frank tone of a soldier but it was comradery from their shared adventures.

”That fit? Market, get someone to make your custom. Only one other even close to your size here. ” There was no one bar, maybe the giant Ivor who would even match this man in size.

Sage, that also led to his wife…that could be agreeable. He really was worried about Seph…she was tough but even the strongest Steel could break. ”Temple it is… truth be told be glad to, my wife is resting there. He decided to admit, he could be honest and what man would not understand worrying about your partner?

They began to walk and he walked slowly towards the Temple, a person escorted by a guard should not be stopped and he doubted anyone would challenge them too hard.

"I could try myself at brewing ale if you'd like to, assuming that I am actually allowed to settle here." Wasn't that ironic ? He had already met the prince himself and helped investigate a murderous crime, but not even got the very basics of administrative affairs settled yet. "I will try the market, otherwise... well, gonna have to improvise. Where I come from we're used to making a lot of thigns ourselves, but not everybody does or can do everything."

There was nobody to challenge them at all, just as Lord Coswain had anticipated. It appeared most of the townsfolk were still busy feasting or already too drunk to care about much at all anymore. The way to the temple was as free and uneventful as it possibly could be given the most recent events, so soon they found themselves in front of Selune's temple.

"So let's see after your wife I'd say. Does one... does one just knock at the door or is there another procedure to follow ?" Valthyr realized he should be grateful if nobody knew yet he actually was a Lunarian. Just whom of their people would not even know some of the very basic customs ?

The questions were an odd mix, but mostly what he expected, they would have to be careful as they might have protection for the Temples that he did not understand. ”If you can work, you're likely good. Beer is always good, never have too much beer in town. You'll probably be able to buy leather at least from someone, maybe barter to rent some tools and a workbench. ” He could agree, Beer was safe but also damn did people need a damn drink in these times. Shoes, yeah, leather, pelts were available and tools could probably be gotten from a worker for a fee.

”Normally yes… But i'll call out, it may be…. Protected. Godess does not take kindly to those who harm her domain.” He did not expand as he did not really understand just that Temples Could be protected and he had heard nasty things happen to those who tried to attack the defensive magics. Those of even a not so actively faithful but respected the goddess and her power.

”Lord Coswain, I come in peace with a wounded man to the sanctuary to seek aid and help from a sage,l”. He called out loudly not straying too close to the building, he did not want to anger the goddess without cause…

He paused and waited, he knew they would take time to lower any defenses they had up or built.

Mentions
@Fetzen

Eris’ breath hitched as a firm grip curled around her wrist, guiding her hand down to her side. Her blue eyes snapped up in surprise, meeting the piercing gaze of a dark-haired female clad in Aurelian armor. Completely focused on Aliseth, Eris had hardly noticed the other guard approaching. She held the woman’s gaze, momentarily stunned. The woman’s expression was unwavering, yet there was empathy in her eyes. And a silent command to stand down.

As the woman released her grip, Eris’ attention lingered on her for a heartbeat longer, her pulse pounding in her ears. The gesture was a kindness, yet it left her feeling lost and helpless. As though her very purpose had been stripped away. It was her duty to de-escalate conflict—to bring reason where tempers flared.

Wasn’t it?

“I—” The word barely left her lips before it caught in her throat. Her protector had already turned away, her shield rising as she faced Aliseth. The moment had passed, leaving Eris adrift in the wake of something she couldn’t quite name.

Then the ground shifted.

She barely had time to react before the cobblestones rolled like waves beneath her feet, instantly sweeping both her and the Aurelian guard apart. A startled breath escaped her as she stumbled, her hands snapping out instinctively to steady herself against the tide.

Her eyes settled on the stone mason as he moved forward, unbothered by the earth he commanded. He moved between the two women like a force of nature, magic thrumming through the very ground itself. He didn’t spare them a glance, didn’t slow his stride. His focus was set entirely on Aliseth, and the air between them tensed like a bowstring ready to snap.

Eris felt magic build and crackle at her fingertips, cold and sharp, instinct screaming at her to prepare—to intervene. But her feet felt rooted in place, even as the ground settled. Her heart pounded as Elio’s fist rose, and she braced for impact.

But the retaliation never came.

Instead, an eerie stillness settled between the two men. Silence stretched unbearably, taut and electric. She flicked her gaze between them, breath caught in her throat. Waiting for the inevitable snap.

Eris bit her lower lip as her eyes darted to the Aurelian guard, an unspoken question lingering in the air. Should they interfere? Magic still hummed within her, eager to be unleashed, to freeze them both in place before it escalated further.

But then, Elio lowered his fist, and she exhaled a quiet breath.

His features were tight with frustration, but his voice, when it came, was low, edged with something deeper than just anger. Something Eris wasn’t privy to, but she could hear it in his tone. Could see it in the way he looked at Aliseth.

As Elio began to walk away, she watched him go, a mix of emotions tangled in her chest—relief, wariness, curiosity.

Just as she was about to turn her attention back to Aliseth, Elio’s gaze caught her. Amber eyes met blue in a way that felt different. A fleeting glance, barely enough to register, but it sent a jolt through her. His stare burned through her, sharp and assessing, leaving her feeling exposed. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she quickly tore her eyes away, desperate to focus on anything else.

She didn’t have time to dwell on it. Aliseth’s voice rang out—sharp, bitter, taunting. Anxiety coiled in her chest all over again.

Silently, she willed Elio not to turn back, her eyes locked onto his muscular back as Aliseth hurled insults his way. ‘Just keep walking…’ she thought, ‘Please…’

To her surprise, Elio continued away and something washed over her. Beneath all the bluster and fire, he had chosen restraint today. He had been provoked, but he had not struck.

She would remember that.

Pulling her gaze away from Elio’s retreating form, her attention shifted back to Aliseth just as he finished instructing the Aurelian guard to accompany her instead. Relief unfurled in her chest, as if a thorned vine loosened its grip around her heart. Aliseth had made her entirely too uneasy.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder, did Aliseth truly have the authority to command this guard in such a way? Their armor alone revealed their allegiances to different nations. Had the guards already settled their ranks among themselves? Perhaps it was a matter of seniority. The woman looked younger than Aliseth—maybe she did fall under his jurisdiction.

When Aliseth gave her a parting bow, Eris returned it with a small, polite nod, murmuring a soft, “Thank you, guard Kain.”

Taking a steadying breath, she closed the small distance that had formed between her and the Aurelian woman due to Elio’s magic. The cobblestones no longer shifted beneath her, yet her steps still felt unsteady.

"Thank you," she said again, this time directed at the woman, her voice quiet but sincere. A small, hesitant smile crossed her lips. There weren’t words to fully express what the woman had done for her—how much that simple gesture had meant. Did the guard even realize? Likely not. Eris herself still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. She only knew she wasn’t supposed to feel relieved about being stopped.

Her gaze flickered once more to Aliseth, his form vanishing into the dark, then to where Elio had disappeared down the street in the opposite direction. It felt safer already. Exhaling, she turned her gaze back on the guard and offered her hand. “Eris Hightower, Lead Sage of Dawnhaven.” Her name felt strange to say aloud after the tension of the encounter, but formality called.

With a small motion, she gestured to the royal residence behind them, its presence a reminder of where she should have been all along. “Guard Kain was to guide me back to the royals before… well, before this happened.” she paused, suddenly feeling awkward and foolish. “But I—I can make it back myself. I wouldn’t want to disturb you, if you have other duties.” she trailed off, glancing toward the large home in the distance.

It was right there. A short walk, maybe only five minutes away. She could manage.

"I was only trying to distract by asking him to continue escorting me," she admitted, her voice soft. “But really, it’s okay.”

She glanced toward the street again, then back to Charlotte, as if testing the logic of her own words. “It’s not like I’d be nabbed by a blight-born in such a short walk… with all the guards around… right?”

She meant it as a light hearted joke, to call herself out for having child-like fear. Or at least, she wanted to. But as the words hung between them, she wasn’t so sure.

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth @Dark Light, Elio @c3p-0h, Charlotte @SpicyMeatball}

The knock at the door just about caused Ranni to jump clear out of her skin, the Priestess whipping around to look towards the door as she took a moment to catch her breath. Quickly, the girl stepped over to the window next to the Temple’s entrance, her violet gaze falling upon the two guards waiting outside. An expression of confusion could be clearly read across her fair features, even as she disappeared from view and the door unlocked before opening up. The Priestess stood before the two guards, offering a polite bow as they started to speak.

Her tail twitched wildly for a moment, betraying her surprise as her eyes went wide for a brief moment. ”The Prince and Princess? Has something happened? O-of course I’d be happy to accompany you, but as you can see I’ve guests within here. I cannot very well leave them while the alarm is ringing…” The Priestess responded, looking back towards the two women within the temple with a look of genuine concern, before her gaze locked back on the two guards.

The younger guard's brown eyes flicked over the Priestesses shoulder, taking in the two figures who had gathered behind her, their faces etched with concern.

“Is everything alright?”

A short huff of disbelief exhaled from the older guard as both their gazes landed on the rabbit-eared creature who had spoken up. Yet another blight-born harbored inside an Aurelian temple.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied the priestess? I don’t want to be left here alone.”

Their gaze shifted to the white-haired woman who spoke—seemingly human—and the younger guards' gaze softened just a touch at the sight of her.

“No. We’ve orders to escort the Priestess and the Priestess alone.” the older guard replied quickly, his facial expression stern and uncaring.

The younger guard shot him a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to the blight-born Priestess. “I will stay here to keep watch.” he declared, giving her a slight nod of reassurance. “Sergeant Langley here will escort you to the royals, miss.” he added, stepping aside to meet eyes with his older counterpart.

Langley considered the younger guard's decision for a moment, then nodded in agreement. This arrangement was acceptable—let the kid stay on watch all night. Langley, on the other hand, would return to the warmth of his own quarters after getting the blighted Priestess to her destination.

“You’ll be in good hands with Corporal Morris.” Langley agreed, glancing briefly at the pair who would remain in the temple before fixing his deep blue eyes to the Priestess. “Please, follow me, miss.” He said, gesturing for her to step outside and descend the stairs with him.

The Priestess stood silently for a long few moments, seeming to ponder over the guard’s offered compromise before giving a polite nod and bow of her head. ”Very well.” She said, looking back towards the Brazier in the center of the Temple. ”A second.” She said, moving quickly to the center to stoke the flames and offer additional fuel to the blaze. ”That should keep,” She whispered as she turned back towards the guards. Locking eyes now with the one who would be staying behind.

”Thank you, Corporal Morris. Aeli- No, I appreciate your willingness to stay.” She said, then moving to make her way out to descend the stairs with the Sergeant. Morris offered the Priestess a small smile before turning to close the door. Just before it shut, his gaze met his superior’s for a brief, silent exchange. Langley gave him a curt nod of appreciation, then turned to follow the Priestess out into the cold.

”What is… what is going on? With the Alarms, and the Prince?” She asked the man shortly after the two had left the temple.

Langley glanced down at the shorter woman as they walked toward town, eyeing her. Weighing if she were worth the air he’d waste in giving her information. He supposed, if this woman were to help the Princess, then he’d ought to tell her—blight-born or not.

“There’s been an attack.” he said finally, his voice lowered to keep it between the two of them. “Blight-born.” He tried his best to keep the venom out of his words.

“The Princess was involved and we’re still looking for the creature who attacked.” he added, turning his gaze to the snow-dusted path ahead and resting an uneasy hand on the hilt of his sword. “That’s all I know. We were given orders to bring you to the royals straight away.”

”A-an attack!?!” The Priestess exclaimed, subconsciously taking a step in closer to the guard as her gaze suddenly became more alert and scanning the surroundings. Thats where Dyna is… She thought, then looked back towards the Guard with a worried expression. ”T-then let us make it to the Princess with the most haste. Surely, Aelios’ radiance will heal any of her woes.” Ranni said quietly, sticking close to the guard in a hope for some feeling of safety.

Langley walked in silence beside the Priestess, his gaze sharp as he scanned the dimly lit streets. Every distant sound, every flicker of movement in the shadows, kept him alert. He greeted several passing guards with curt nods, exchanging quick words when necessary, but otherwise remained focused on his task.

And yet, despite his discipline, he found his thoughts wandering. Straying. The Priestess’s presence beside him stirred something unwelcome in him. It was strange. Unnatural. He had no love for the church, least of all an Aurelian one, and certainly never had he given a second glance to a blight-born in his life. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, her closeness set his thoughts wandering down a path he had no business treading. The warmth of her beside him, the way her robes shifted with each step, the scent of incense that clung faintly to her—it gnawed at something deep and vile in him.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to suppress the unwelcome impulses. All he wanted was to finish this errand, hand her off to the royals, and return home to rest.

After nearly fifteen minutes, they arrived at the entrance to the royal residence. Langley cast an assessing glance over the guard stationed at the entrance—an Aurelian, clad in pristine, polished armor. ‘Spoiled brat.’

He gave the man a nod before speaking. “I’m here to deliver the Priestess, as instructed.”

The Aurelian hesitated. Though his face was obscured beneath his helm, the silence stretched, laced with confusion.

“Where is Lady Hightower? And Priestess Tingara?” the guard finally asked.

“I don’t know any Tingara….” he frowned, glancing at the blonde beside him for a moment. “But last I saw, Hightower was with my superior—Aliseth Kain. Kain told me and another to assist with Lady Hightower’s tasks.” He lifted a brow, curiosity sparking. “Why? She never made it back?” It was a difficult thing to fight back a smirk.

‘Did Kain bed the Sage? That scoundrel.’ He thought, beginning to wonder if he should have acted on his impulses earlier with this blight-born Priestess. Maybe the Aurelians were easier than they looked. He could have made it quick.

A displeased grunt was the only response before the Aurelian guard turned and pushed open the heavy door.

“Priestess, please head upstairs.” he instructed curtly. “Another guard will be waiting to allow you into the Princess’s chambers.”

---

_{Interactions: Celine @SkeankySnack, Aurora @BlackRoseSiren}

Sya was still getting used to walking, slithering infact and keeping her balance at the same time. It was surprisingly complicated to manage everything newly changed, her body was new and listened as she moved along over to the tables with food. Complex subjects and movement was an thing she had to think about to so both at the same time.

Her dog has been particularly good but Sya was very much still cautious of the animal and its reaction to her. Just because it was calm for now did not mean it would remain so. She kept her tail swished out of the way as not wanting to test the durability and sensitivity of her tail and new body's ability to withstand damage. Sya knew she was resilient thanks to her blight nature but she did not like being hurt.

The man's comment made her giggle with a hiss, she needed no explanation and detail about it. She had her own moments with her partner back home and his times when he was a pain much as she still snuggled up to him when given opportunity.

“I'm honessst, I like money alot but I'm honest.” Sya said, she would not hide she was a big fan of gold. Gold was a great leveling tool, especially now. A blightborn with gold…had gold … and gold was a universal tool of respect and influence.

Sya turned as she reached the table and swayed about her hips…or what her hips about In an abstract manner as she leant a little lower to be steady. The short leather Skirt panels flapped a little as she settled back. The outfit was a little…pretty daring but she did not care, people already stared at her for being Cyclops or now a Lamia.
“Horsesss, oh that does not sound neighbourly”… Sya dropped the bad joke without Missing a beat. “The first batch maybe, but we can work it out and make ssssomething i'm sure.” Sya said confidently with evident heart and focus.

“Ready to Forge a new day with Breakfast ingotsss” Sya said with a little drama, musical tone as her hands and tail gestured happily as she said with a glow to her eye in her energy. Sya was very much hyper focused and a mix of ADHD.

Sya did her mental switch again and her brain swapped tracks fast and she did what was a typical Sya mentally damaged nature. “Try please, Shinnne Is potent, but made by me, old Borderlandsss Recipe.” Sya Said but she decided to turn and explain with a gesture wave of her deep blue shiny tail like it was a natural extension of her emotions.

“Fine, yesss… i'm trying to keep things calm…. Panic does not help us. Calm better.” Sya said more firmly but quietly. She knew that people were looking to her, and would expect things of Sya and her duties. “Calm people are a lot easier to look after. Valm Gueessts do not fight as much. All zey can do is wait, quietly is better. Vrink, eat, they doing somthing and not vorrying..” Sya said with a little challenge in her tone, she was not going to let someone start a drama in her Inn. In her thoughts her accent had slipped into a much thicker ative borderlands accent, older and more gutteral than the more universal one she used most of time.

She wanted to leave and so much as the next person but they had to wait, she had people whom she wanted to know where safe. Several of her guests who had rooms were missing too right now, hopefully none had fallen victim. Even the annoying, Vexing yet interesting man who had verbally challenged her.

What she wanted to to to some people for making her worry, hug them yes.. but they sure made her worry about them.

Mentions
@Qia

---

The ground thudded with heavy footfalls, those that belonged to the giant blightborn, who trudged along blizzard laden ground with nothing to protect him from the elements. The air around him was thick, heavy and white as blinding snow obscured his vision. He had naught on his person, not even furs and leathers to shield him from the elements. Ivor was truly lost, wandering aimlessly, frozen to the core and starving for anything that could sustain him. An echo crossed the threshold of his mind, his eyes darted to and fro, his head whipping back and forth. What was this sensation? Fear? Ivor moved, he didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere was better than standing still. No matter where he stepped though, the echo only grew louder and louder, until it was but a roar ready to rupture his ears. He felt afraid, alone, where was his tribe? Why had they abandoned him?

When his eyes opened, he found himself in front of the creature he had felled in battle, the essence of the bear within. It roared with foul animosity, its intent writ upon Ivor’s psyche.

“Dead is the goddess! Gone is her scourge, her scorching light! Blessed is the dark! We shall bring forth the end; spill all the living’s blood!”

Ivor’s eyes shot open as his whole body jolted awake, he lifted his appendage to his face only to see his normal, big sized hand. Using said hand he felt across his entire body, realizing there was only flesh and some body hair, instead of a mass of fur and fat. He realized he was back to normal, having transformed sometime during their slumber. There was a sense of relief knowing he was awake once more, but dreams often held meanings. Whatever foreboding sense he got from the meaning, he’d have to wait to contemplate it as he looked down upon his two charges, both of whom he seems to have woken up when he moved so suddenly. Physically, both seemed fine, if not startled, but already it was an improvement from their situation earlier as Ivor’s face lit up with a smile, melting away some of his worries.

“Good morning friends!” His voice boomed and echoed in the confines of the crystal walls.

Zeph tensed beneath heavy furs as the silence he had been savoring was abruptly broken. For the past twenty minutes, he had been awake, listening to the occasional drip of water, the distant splash of killer fish, and the steady breathing of the two who had kept him warm for hours. His hazel eyes, which had been resting on the delicate features of Tia’s face, flicked upward to meet Ivor’s gaze. He forced a slight smile in return before shifting beneath the warmth of the furs, pulling himself into a seated position. The cold air hit him instantly, biting at his bare skin where warmth had once cocooned him.

Tia, suddenly very awake and very warm, scrambled to push herself up and away from Zeph.

"Morning," he muttered, his voice rough, stripped of its usual lighthearted tone. He ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair before pressing his fingers into his temples, shutting his eyes for a moment. Cracking one eye open, he peered at Ivor.

The giant was up and about, stretching out his limbs, muscles flexing and glistening in the light of the crystals.

‘Wasn’t there a bear?’ He thought, confusion setting in. Had he imagined it all? He had been that delirious?

His hand moved to his shoulder, where pain had once seared through him like fire. Now, there was nothing—only smooth, healed skin. Tia watched him, taking in the way he didn’t flinch at the touch, and how his skin color changed and reacted to the pressure he applied. His fingers traced where the wound should have been, but there was no trace of it, no tenderness, nothing. His gaze moved across Ivor’s body, remembering the wounds that had marred him. And yet, just like Zeph, he looked untouched.

Tia was a hell of a healer.

He had heard of the Aurelian’s prowess in the art, but to see it in action was something else entirely. His gaze flicked downward, catching the sight of the jagged scar along the left side of his abdomen—one that had never healed so cleanly. Her eyes followed the same path. A healer like her would have been useful then.

He exhaled, pushing himself to his feet and stretching, still only in his boxers. His body still ached, but it was dull—nothing compared to what it should have been. As he padded over to where his discarded clothes lay, he glanced back.

"Everyone feeling okay?" he asked, his gaze settling on Tia as he reached for his pants.

It was then that Tia realized she was still sitting on the cave floor, the furs piled around her. Without the small pocket of warmth they’d created, the chill was seeping into her again, doing nothing to help the stiffness she felt, or the way she wanted to curl in on herself and burrow back into Ivor’s fur. Her eyes flicked over Zeph, evaluating. She tried to just see a body.

Her eyes lingered on the familiar pink of scar tissue, jagged against smooth skin. She snapped her gaze back up to his and forced herself to nod.

Turning, she cast an appraising eye over the other member of their little group. Ivor, like Zeph, seemed to be adequately healed. If anything, he seemed to be doing the best of the three of them. Tia met his purple gaze, her heart jumping in her chest as she remembered the beast he’d transformed into. But he’d kept them warm. And he was smiling at her now, with his exuberant nature. Tia couldn’t help but give him a shy smile of her own, and a small nod of thanks.

He was also almost completely naked. As was Zeph. And Tia, while adequately clothed, was absolutely covered in their dried blood.

She sighed down at herself. Getting herself back into town while avoiding questions was going to be… difficult. What was she going to tell the twins? How long had they even been gone for?

Tia tried to swallow her worry and guilt as she looked down at her hands, covered in dark, flaking blood. The cold was already seeping back into her fingers.

At least they would be returning to town at all.

Something glittered in the periphery.

Tia didn’t move – not at first. She suddenly felt held in place, under the weight of something that burned and blistered where it touched her. It stilled the breath in her ragged throat. It erased the boundaries that made her, one by one.

She had eyes to see with, she reminded herself. They were still looking down at her hands. She could move them. She could touch, and feel.

She still wasn’t breathing as she turned her head to look at the small glowing gemstone, still sitting in a pool of diluted blood. Her golden dagger was beside it. Tia flexed her fingers in her lap, curling them in and out like she had to remind herself how to use them.

Then she reached out with a trembling hand to pick up the stone.

As Tia’s fingers closed around the gemstone, a shocking chill ran up her arm. To her alone, the glow of the gemstone pulsed, once, twice—then suddenly, a sharp crack echoed in her mind.

A voice, deep and filled with venomous rage, boomed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Insolence!"

The voice seethed with fury and the word slammed into her like a physical blow, rattling through her. It was not merely spoken—it was felt, reverberating through her very bones.

The gemstone grew scalding in her palm, searing into her skin. Images flashed through her mind—a vast, endless abyss, spires of obsidian reaching toward a sky that didn’t exist. A towering humanoid figure stood before a massive stone circle embedded into a cavern wall, its surface fractured and etched with glowing runes. The figure’s skin was dark as the night sky, ears sharply pointed. Golden eyes, burning with something ancient and wrathful, pierced through shadows.

Then, the gemstone pulsed again—harder—forcing the breath from her lungs. The vision shattered and the cavern returned to eerie stillness. The gemstone lay in her trembling palm, cool to the touch.

It rolled along the tilting valley of her hand. Then it fell back into the bloody puddle with a sharp clatter and a pink splash.

Tia couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see anything but the gemstone – the imprint of blackness and gold and rage that had burned through her like it meant to turn her to ash.

No – Tia could breathe. But her chest was rising and falling at a speed that some part of her knew wasn’t correct. Icy air ripped through her ragged throat too quickly. Tia could breathe but she was suffocating as the gemstone’s fiery afterimage consumed all the air in the cavern.

Her whole body shook as she tried to scramble to her feet, only to catch on the end of her own bloodstained robe and fall backwards again. Her vision began to spot as she tried to push backwards, away from the gemstone laying innocently in its pool.

Half dressed—pants barely on, boots unlaced—Zeph’s eyes snapped up. Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her before she backed straight into the frigid waters of death.

“What? What happened?” he asked, his gaze following hers, landing on the gemstone. “That? What is it?” his brows furrowed together, glancing up at Ivor for answers.

Mid stretch Ivor watched as Tia gripped the stone only to recoil from it a fraction of a moment later. His eyes widened as he began to run forward, but Zeph was faster, stopping the priestess before she dunked herself into the frigid pool with ravenous fish. He was on both of them shortly after, kneeling next to the two, his gaze found the small rock just as Zeph inquired of it. “Ivor do not know, it is what I found down there,” he pointed back into the pool, “There was a cave Ivor could not reach, deep in crack I found that rock.”

The giant stood and approached the stone, kneeling down to pick it up, he finally got a chance to look it over now that he wasn’t fighting for his life. Its textures and hues were similar to that of the crystals in the cave, yet this stone felt wholly unnatural in this environment. Its circumference and diameter felt too even, too precise, almost as if it were carved by a master jeweler and purposefully set there, only for Ivor to find it. Almost instinctively, the giant bit down on the gem, ensuring its authenticity. Tia’s eyes widened, panic shooting through her… only to turn into confusion when he didn’t seem to have any reaction to the odd gem.

Ivor turned back to approach the two of them, stone carefully held in between his fingers. He knelt before them and looked at Tia, “Miss Priestess, are you alright? You do not have to be speaking the words, just blink one time for good and two time for bad.”

Tia looked up at him, her breath still too labored, body still too stiff. Her eyes flicked back to the stone, and how it almost seemed to shine from within. Like waking from a dream, the stark emotions she’d experienced through the vision were already draining from her, leaving her disoriented.

Was she alright? Her eyes remained focused on the gem as she tried to take stock of her own body - fingers, hands, arms, shoulders, up and down, only to find that she was still simply and sorely herself. The gem’s images flashed in her mind again. Zeph’s hand was heavy on her shoulder, grounding her. Ivor’s form towered high like the spires she’d seen. Her mind spun, trying to make sense of the odd vision, the sensations, the voice. But she was too overwhelmed – too exhausted and cold, to even begin to know how to process it all. She couldn’t even identify her own embarrassment at causing a scene, though she knew it must’ve been there somewhere.

Finally, she looked back up to Ivor. Over her shoulder at Zeph again. Back to Ivor. She tried to smile – it didn’t work. So instead she just blinked once at him.

Zeph exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. She was okay—or, at least, as okay as she could be. His gaze settled on the gemstone held between Ivor’s fingers, mind racing as he inspected what he could of it. Why had she reacted that way? Was this what she came here to find? Was it something she had lost? His lips parted to ask, but before the words could form, she began to shift.

After hours on the ground, Tia forced herself to stand on stiff, aching legs. Zeph hovered a hand near her arm, ready to catch her if she swayed. Even sitting, Ivor was still nearly eye-level with her. She tried to smile at him again, dusting her hands on her ruined robes. It was a little easier this time, at least. Tia forced in a slow breath to steady herself. Then she lifted the excess fabric of her belt. The sunrise orange fabric sat across her bloody palm as she looked back up at Ivor, silently requesting the gem back. Her hand still trembled, whether from the cold or her own frazzled nerves.

Ivor waited patiently, satisfied when she did finally blink, he gave a small smile. When presented with her outstretched, clothed palm he tentatively placed the gemstone within the open parcel. He waited a moment, ready to snatch it from her should she react the same way as before. It seemed though the cloth did it’s trick and was able to shield her from whatever pain it had inadvertently caused before. “Ivor is thinking, it may be time to return home,” he eyed her over, pale, bloodied, her expression wore tired, “Ivor means no offense, but you are looking really terribly right now.” His brow furrowed as he picked himself up to retrieve and don his furs on the cave floor. Her cheeks darkened, even as her eyes sparked with amusement and she huffed out a breath.

Zeph’s hazel eyes drifted over Tia’s body, taking her in. The memory of her bathed in golden light flashed in his mind. Gently, he took a strand of her blonde hair between his fingers—stiff and matted with dried blood. Eyes catching on the movement in her periphery, Tia turned slightly. She paused at the sight of the guard holding the filthy lock of hair. He inspected it briefly before letting it fall away and meeting her eyes.

“I think she looks tough.” he remarked, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Like a proper warrior.” He stepped closer, nudging her gently with his shoulder in a playful manner before winking. Tia’s heart stuttered in her chest. Somehow, despite her bashfulness and nerves, a surprising new emotion flickered within her: pride. A shy smile came to life on her face, meeting his own. With that, Zeph turned and strode off toward his scattered clothing.

“Hah!” The giant laughed as he stuck his arm through the hole cutout, “Yes! The warriors three! We must tell Sya and the others, they shall sing many songs in our honor!”

Tia watched him for a moment, that fragile pride following after him. When she pulled back into herself, her smile was soft and thoughtful. But it drifted away, when she refocused on the gem in her hand. It felt too heavy – or maybe that was just the weight of her own questions and worries pressing down into her palm. The images flashed in her mind again. That searing hate. Tia chewed her lip, unsure of what she was supposed to do with this. Why had she been sent to find this? By whom? The Arch Priest’s warnings echoed in her mind again – her unreliable dreams. He’d warned of darker influences.

Tia’s fingers curled, cocooning the gem in a layer of fabric. Opening the edge of her robe, she slipped the gem into the inner pocket, pressed awkwardly against the stiff, folded pages of the Arch Priest’s letter.

Once fully dressed, Zeph stepped to where the spear lay half-submerged in shallow water. “Can’t forget your weapon… again.” he muttered, inspecting the pool for any ravenous fish that might be nearby and waiting to take a finger off. When he finally picked up the spear, he walked over to Ivor, the weight of it heavy in his hand.

“Here.” he said, offering the weapon to the giant. Just as the word left his mouth, his stomach growled. Loudly. Zeph grimaced and let out a heavy sigh. What he wouldn’t give for one of those sweet treats from the tavern right about now…

As Ivor reached out for the weapon, the audible echo of the man’s stomach in front of him, elicited a soft chuckle from him, probably the quietest laugh they’d heard from him yet. He finished reaching out for the weapon, firmly grasping it, and Zeph released the staff into Ivor’s care.

There was a faint sound – almost a laugh, though it was breathy and rasping. Tia brought the back of her palm up to hide her amused smile. Zeph’s eyes snapped to her, narrowing in a look that was half a glare, half a smirk—mock offense layered beneath obvious amusement. For a moment, he fixed her with an expression as if to say, ‘Oh, you think this is funny?’ His lips pressed into a firm line, fighting the urge to laugh along with her, but the glint in his hazel eyes betrayed him.

When she lowered her hand again her expression was controlled as she looked between the two men. Tia couldn’t help but feel responsible for them. It was their blood she was covered in, afterall. It was her mission they’d set out on. And though it seemed the danger had passed (she hoped… there was still the return trip to deal with) the men were still under her care.

And clearly one of them was hungry.

Tia glanced around, her dark eyes finding where her bag was discarded on the cave floor. It didn’t have much… a small biscuit and a mixed pouch of nuts and dried, candied berries. It was a snack, but likely wasn’t filling enough for the guard, with how much energy (and magic) they’d had to expend and how long they’d been out in this expedition for. Tia knew at least Ivor had… fed… but if she was honest, she felt the sharp pangs of hunger, too. The thought of having to trek all the way back to Dawnhaven in the snow without anything in her stomach was daunting to say the least.

But then her gaze caught on her golden ceremonial dagger — and the flickering fish swimming in the pool. She paused. Then she walked the few short steps to her dagger to pick it up off the ground. The metal was an icy shock against her skin, and Tia let out a short breath, a stunned white cloud fluttering in front of her. Steeling herself, she curled her fingers around it fully. The dried, rusty blood that coated her skin was a sharp contrast to the dagger’s glittering opulence. Tia felt dirtier somehow, with it in her hand. But she swallowed back her unease, straightening up again to smile at Zeph and Ivor. She held up the dagger in one hand, pointing to the pool with the other. She couldn’t fight or keep them from getting hurt, but Tia had other ways of caring for her companions.

“Fish?” Her broken voice bounced softly around the walls of the cave, offering itself to them.

The two watched as Tia made her way to the water, pointing at it with her dagger suggesting they eat the fish in the water. It was only fair since the fish did try eating them first, a big grin on his face as he nodded back to her, “Fish.” Clapping Zeph lightly on the shoulder he approached the pool of water and crouched, watching the fish as they lazily swam in the water. It was just the same as when he was first here, serene, calm, easy prey to catch so long as one wasn’t bleeding. Ivor’s eyes narrowed as he readied the spear by his side, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The giant fully allowed instinct to take over, his periphery fading as he focused on his target. Then, swiftly, a flash of steel pierced the water with nary a splash, retreating almost as quickly as it entered the water. As the blade emerged, a fish was impaled upon it, spluttering and flailing as it tried to ‘escape’ this deadly predator that had caught it.

Ivor stood up, planting the ball end of the spear upon the ground, fish corpse spasming on the bladed end. The man’s smile never ceased as he exclaimed to the two of them, “Fish!”

Tia blinked with wide eyes at the display, stunned by Ivor’s… efficiency. The fish flailed helplessly on the spear. Sparing a glance at Zeph (did he even like fish?) she hurried towards Ivor as she began rolling up her sleeves. The chill pricked at her bare skin, though she tried to put it from her mind.

It had been some time since Tia’d prepared a fish, but she knew she had to move quickly now that the process had begun. She wished she had a needle – even her hairpins, that she seemed to have lost at some point in the last week. But all she had was the golden dagger that glittered in her hand. It would have to do (Aelios, forgive me.).

The fish flopped in the air above Tia’s head. With her free hand, she reached up to wrap her fingers around its cold, scaly head. She pressed her lips together against the sensation – the slick scales, how it tried to fight her as she held it steady, muscles straining against her own. She took in a breath. Then she slid the tip of her dagger up into the fish’s eye. The fish flinched, spasming one last time, fins flaring at its sides. Then it went limp.

At least the dagger was sharp.

The blade was wider than the tool she’d used as a child, slicing the eye clean in half and cutting into the meat around the socket. Normally it would’ve been a sort of curved spike to pierce the brain, a…

Tia couldn’t remember the name.

She moved automatically as she pulled the fish from the spear, and walked towards the pool. A handful of slices with her dagger found the fish open and held over the water, blood and entrails splashing as they fell. Tia watched as the living fish frenzied again. Her eyes were distant as the fish cleaned the water, and soon enough went docile again.

…What was its name?

Ivor watched as the priestess removed the fish from his weapon, briefly considering consuming the aquatic soul before she began cleaning it for consumption. Then he thought better against it, the day had already been trying enough without more reminders that they lived among monsters. Ivor smiled, slinging the staff over his shoulder as he approached the entrance to the cavern. Stopping at the door he turned briefly to the others, “Ivor is going outside, need to see sky, see the clouds, feel the wind, make sure it is safe for journey back to Dawnhaven.” He nodded, “Eat, Ivor will be back soon.” With that the giant exited the cave, leaving the two alone with the other’s company.

Tia found a relatively clean and dry spot on the cave floor. Pulling out a small handkerchief, she smoothed it over the stone and placed the fish atop. Muscle memory took over as she sliced with the dagger. Though beautiful, it was an imperfect tool for the job. But she’d learned from a young age how to make do with what was available.

Food had been plentiful and varied at the Sunfire Citadel in Aurelia’s capital – but Tia had spent her childhood far away, in a poor Ember Isle temple. The villagers had little to spare. Fish had been a common offering when they sought Aelios’ favor, and even in the reverence of the temple, the keepers of Her flame couldn’t afford to give the entire gift to the Goddess. The girls had all been taught to clean and prepare a fish for eating, with and without fire.

Tia moved through the steps that she didn’t even know she remembered – slicing away the top layer of flesh, scanning for parasites with her magic, filleting the pink meat. It was almost meditative, the knife sliding through the fish as Tia searched her mind for bits of language she could no longer grasp.

Zeph watched in quiet curiosity as she worked, her movements steady and practiced, suggesting that this wasn’t her first time. He hadn’t expected an Aurelian Priestess to know her way around such dirty work. Was this something they were all taught, or did she pick it up elsewhere? Either way, it was another interesting piece of her he hadn’t anticipated.

His gaze dropped to the dagger she used—elegant, expensive, finely crafted. Not the kind of blade that was meant for gutting fish. Nonetheless, it got the job done with ease. She was far more careful with her cuts than he would have been, taking her time, ensuring precision. He would have worked faster—messier—but she treated the task with care. He found himself watching every motion a little more closely than he had meant to, filing the details away.

She blinked back to herself when the work was done. Tia looked down at the row of meat, little pink rectangles offering themselves up to her. There wasn’t much, but it was something. The fish hadn’t been very large, and the hole Ivor had pierced through it meant some meat was lost. The cuts were imperfect – slightly crooked here, uneven there. The corner of her mouth twitched up as she looked at the sparse meal she’d prepared. Something small and melancholic sat in the space behind her heart.

Sister Fumi would’ve offered her no praise for this work. But she would’ve eaten it all the same.

Remembering her two companions, Tia looked up to find the guard and the barbarian – she blinked, only finding one of them. Ah… right. Ivor had stepped out. Tia stilled at the way Zeph watched her intently, hazel eyes focused on her. Suddenly shy, she looked back down at her unseasoned, ungarnished meal. Then she forced herself to smile and look back up at her remaining companion. Tia gestured with an open palm towards the cut meat.

“Fish.”

Suspicion flickered across Zeph’s face and he eyed the pieces for a long moment. The fish here were strange, iridescent things that shimmered unnaturally in the water. Unlike any he’d seen before. Were they even safe to eat? Were they blighted? They certainly acted feral enough to be blighted. He crouched down beside her, leaning in to scrutinize the meat as if he’d somehow be able to tell just by looking. Tia faltered, leaning slightly away as her cheeks warmed at his sudden proximity. She watched his face for signs of approval… or disgust.

Zeph’s options ran through his mind. He could refuse, keep starving, and make the long, grueling trek back to Dawnhaven on an empty stomach. He always got so grumpy when he was hungry. Or he could eat and risk… death, maybe. Food poisoning, at best. Not the worst outcome, really. Maybe he’d get so sick they’d put him on bed rest for a week. Maybe he’d drop dead and never have to return to boring watch duty ever again. A win-win.

Zeph grabbed a piece of fish, tossed it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Decision made.

Encouraged, Tia gingerly picked up a portion for herself and ate.

“You sure know your way around a knife.” he remarked, giving Tia a lopsided smirk. “I’m sure the Prince will be glad for it.”

All the color drained from Tia’s face. She felt bled and gutted like the fish she’d just prepared, ceremonial dagger still dirty in her hand.

The dagger she was meant to slide between the Prince’s ribs.

Suddenly she wasn’t hungry at all. The small piece of fish sat heavy and rotting in her chest. Reality came crashing back into her, all her worries and problems and responsibilities. The Arch Priest. The jewel. The Queen. Her visions. Tia retreated back into herself, looking down at the row of fish meat.

Unable to look back up to the guard, Tia gestured with her open palm at the fish and then back up to him. She gave a quick, stuttering nod of her head. Tia couldn’t get back to her feet fast enough. Still not looking at Zeph, she started readying herself to leave this strange dream of a cave. Her mind buzzed frantically as she cleaned her hands and the dagger in the least bloody puddle she could find, gathered her things. Soon enough, she stood. Tia rolled her sleeves back down, heavy and stiff with dried blood, and curled her fingers tightly to hide within the cloth. At least that way she could keep from twisting them nervously around each other. She tried to appear more as a proper High Priestess, rather than a poor, filthy, foolish child.

Exhausted, bloodsoaked, and full of new secrets that she didn’t know how to voice, Tia waited silently for her escort to begin their trek. It was time to return to Dawnhaven.

---

_{Location: Amaya Selu}

---

---

Amaya had lived her entire life within walls.

Layer by layer they encased her, making her small by their greatness. The border walls of the Lunaris capital, grey and distant; the polished white stone that wrapped around the royal grounds; the shining marble of the palace, walls folding over themselves in a frigid maze of hallways and empty rooms; the ice she pulled around herself, with careful practice and trembling hands. At some point it had become second nature – the ice came whether she called it or not, both prison and protection.

And she’d been contained. Held in place. Held together. Small, fragile, and ignorant, she’d seen her walls and thought them the boundaries of the world. She’d felt ice against her back and mistook it for a spine, seen the distorted fractures of her reflection and thought herself whole.

There had been warmth, once. Soft and tender, it had cocooned her so thoroughly that she thought even the chill wouldn’t touch her. But warmth was a dangerous thing – it melted the ice, left the walls thin and fragile.

This is your fault.

The words hadn’t belonged to her. Still, they echoed through Amaya, catching themselves along her fractured edges and making a home in what remained.

She saw soft blue eyes. Pale skin. White hair like moonlight, shining through the shadows. Blood.

Words seeped through the ice and again, Amaya stained them with her grief.

I can’t do this anymore.

Relief had been a breathtaking, guilty thing, when she’d learned that Elara would accompany her for the last few months of her life – at least she would be permitted to keep this last bit of warmth until the end. Her impending death, the role she’d been destined for all along, would come swiftly, and there would simply be no time or motivation for anyone to hurt her further. Why torment someone who was already dead?

But how cruel of her - to find joy in the upheaval of Elara’s life, her future grief, after a lifetime of trapping her behind the many walls that made Amaya’s world. She’d just been too blind, or naive, or needy, or selfish to realize how she sapped the warmth from everyone around her. That was why Amaya was alone now – not because of any torment her father had inflicted upon her. It simply cost too much to be with her.

I can’t be what you want me to be. Not anymore.

Perhaps she’d never lost anything at all. The warmth had been an illusion – an indulgence, too costly to sustain. How pitiful she was, to mistake obligation and duty for… what?

Love?

Did she demand what others could not give? Did she take? Desperate and uncaring, she’d pulled another into her prison to freeze beside her, and thought that her icy hand wrapped around Elara’s, turning her cold and numb, crystals growing along her skin, was love.

I think… I’ve always known.

Elara knew her, better than anyone left in this world. Perhaps even better than her mother had. Amaya used to think herself blessed for that.

Elara knew her, and it had broken her heart.

Perhaps she knew a truth that Amaya was only just now realizing: she was her father’s effortless cruelty, hidden behind her mother’s face.

And now, she was inescapably alone, with nothing but the shards of her own reflection, her ruined echoes forming a chorus around her.

The walls of her prison were gone, and so she collapsed with nothing to hold her together. The warmth, fleeting though it had been, had melted through her careful protection until it shattered at a touch, shards of frost scattered around her. She was a long-festering wound, alight with pain in the open air.

She had nothing left – no warmth to cradle her, no ice to shield her. There was only her grief, her hollow ache, and the burning brine of her tears as they cut familiar paths.

As the salt dried along her skin, the crystals formed like ice.

---

_{Interactions: Amaya Selu @c3p-0h}

Eris exhaled a quiet laugh at Charlotte’s introduction, her lips curving into a small but genuine smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hawthorne. But please, you may call me Eris. Truly, there's no need for such formalities.”

Hearing the familiar Aurelian accent in Charlotte’s voice struck something deep inside, a quiet ache she hadn’t realized was there. Home. She hadn’t known how much she’d missed it until now, standing beside someone who felt familiar in the smallest of ways. It was ridiculous, really. Charlotte was a stranger. And yet, something about her presence already made Eris feel a little lighter, as though the grip Aliseth had held over her had begun to fade.

But then came the reminder. They still hadn’t found the blight-born who attacked the Princess.

Eris’s heart sank, the weight of reality crashing back onto her shoulders. She wasn’t home. Nowhere near it. She was in Dawnhaven, surrounded by death and danger, with the pressure of the world’s future pressing suffocatingly against her chest. She'd wanted this. She'd asked for it.

Refocusing, she gave a stiff nod and turned to lead the way, shoving her hands deep into her coat pockets. Her fingers found Tia's hairpins once more, absentmindedly toying with them as she attempted to ground herself. Tension slowly coiled around her heart all over again—constricting, stabbing.

As they walked, silence stretched between them, but Eris wasn’t sure she had the energy to fill it. Her thoughts pulled her in too many directions at once. Her mind too full to think about asking Charlotte menial questions about herself. Eris' mother would have scolded her for the lack of poise, the lack of noble grace. Dawnhaven had clearly sucked out all her manners.

As they neared the royal residence, the door suddenly swung open. A guard rushed out, voice urgent as he addressed the one standing watch at the entrance.

"Where did the fuckin' S—" His words cut off the moment he spotted them, and relief washed over his face. "Oh, thank Aelios."

Eris hesitated for a moment, glancing between the two male guards nervously. Had they been waiting for her long?

"Miss Hightower. Please, get inside." One of them said, holding the door open for her.

Turning back to Charlotte, she gave the taller woman a small but deeply grateful bow. “Thank you for the escort, Miss Hawthorne…. and for…” Her words trailed off as she straightened to meet Charlotte’s steely blue eyes.

“For what you did.” A faint smile touched her lips as she held Charlotte’s gaze for a beat longer. Whether or not Charlotte would understand what she meant didn’t matter, though, a small piece of her hoped she would.

Without another word, she turned and entered the royal residence.

The guard holding the door looked at Charlotte, giving her a firm nod of acknowledgement. "Good work." he simply stated, before disappearing inside with Eris, shutting the door behind them.

---

_{Interactions: Charlotte @SpicyMeatball}

Sya gave a little uncomfortable shift and sway as she addressed the comment, yeah she was trying to distract people, yeah she was trying to keep their minds off things… That was her job to keep things from turning to chaos. “Of vourse I am, but I'm not sure if everyone thinks that, and where else would I go if Prince zinks I failed?, I have friends, least 3 friends out there. I'm… well I no longer have to worry about shoes.” Sya said as she waved her tail with a shrug gesture and hid her point and question about how if people even saw her as human at times, she kinda implied…but not. Maybe she was too honest but Sya never really did do anything other than Sya. She seemed a decent lady.

Sya was too diffrent, Dawn Haven would have to be a ride or die? Unless she headed to Dunatall…Panic never helped… never helped, chaos was a fire that burned and spread, Calm kept tempers and real fires down. She would not have to contemplate that idea…

She had to force herself to speak in the less Borderlands more general tongue as she softened her accent from the harsher tones of her homelands' lost accents and languages. “My Mercy, oh, that could mean different thingsszz in my Lair.” Sya laughed with a hiss and tried to wink with one eye but clearly humour and the Lamia was not the most mentally stable but who could be after what she had endured. She was never boring though. “Is it really a Lair when you live on the top floor with a balcony? Lairs are below ground? Being a queen of evil would suck, no hugs, and everyone thinks you need to solve their mistakes… il stick to being entirely sane and normal. Plus when did you see a Quwen in comfortable clothing
yikes. Sssdpikes are not comfortable. ” Sya said with a rather sharp tangent and a lighter tone, she was sociable and once you got past the scales and eye, she showed signs of the happy woman who was working on her own cottage with her childhood friend and partner.

Truth be told her flexible mental state often she believed was how she managed to survive and retain her humanity, she bent and flexed with the blights changes in her mind not broken and snapped like brittle iron.

“Give me a few days, a week….I Have cookiessss though, pastery, shine, some soup and sssstew.. more even. it was meant to be a feast and display of everything we make…” Sya said with a little down tone to her voice, she had made a feast to celebrate and sell her business and all this happened…least the crown was the one helping pay for it!

Sya hand and tail Moved in gesture as she spoke entirely fluid and without needing to look where she was in relation to self and others.

“Breakfast Ingots, be glad we do not go by first Name, travel food slab…” She gave an exaggerated shudder at the name Idea. “least one more person can enjoy them in sssspirit they meant.”

Mentions
@Qia

Flynn remained still near the banister, listening intently, half-expecting to see Elara ascend the staircase to return to Amaya’s side. But the approaching footsteps told him otherwise—hesitant, cautious, uncertain of their surroundings.

As the steps neared, flickering candlelight caught the curvature of horns, casting faint shadows against the wall. Instinctively Flynn grabbed the hilt of his sword, his heart skipping a beat at the sight in his own home. Sensing the Prince’s reaction, the guard stationed by Amaya’s door immediately unsheathed his own sword and stepped forward to meet whoever approached.

But then she came into view, and Flynn loosened his grip. The blight-born Priestess.

The very same he had seen earlier that day, practically offering herself to the Eternal Flame. Her blonde hair shimmered in the dim light, framing the horns that arched from her head. A slender tail curled behind her as she moved, violet eyes locking onto his.

Flynn’s eyes narrowed as their gazes met. He studied her, but remained silent as she closed the distance between them. The guard beside him remained in a tense, defensive stance, but eased slightly upon recognizing the robes she wore.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Flynn stepped back from the banister to fully face her. A beat of silence passed between them before he finally spoke.

“Where is the High Priestess? And Lady Hightower?”

Ranni nearly froze in place as the Prince met her gaze, and his eyes seemed to narrow in response. Was her presence here in particular not something he welcomed? Ranni’s own eyes went wide with surprise and she seemed about to speak up before he beat her to the punch.

”A-ah!” Ranni said, bowing her head in apology towards the Prince as she seemed surprised by his words. ”T-the High Priestess was occupied away from the temple, but I assure you; your highness, I am quite capable of offering aid in her stead,” she explained, offering a deeper bow of apology before straightening up. ”I-I was told what happened, but not how the Princess is faring… perhaps you would allow me to at least see what aid I can offer?” she asked, radiating out a feeling of genuine concern for the Princess’ wellbeing as she spoke.

Flynn’s lips pressed into a thin, irritated line at the woman’s response—or lack thereof. She hadn’t answered where Hightower was, didn’t even seem to recognize the name, and her explanation about the High Priestess was far from satisfying. Where had the High Priestess and his Lead Sage run off to?

His eyes assessed her for a moment, suspicion tightening in his chest. He was supposed to put trust in a blight-born? After everything that had just happened? His jaw clenched at the very thought, though a part of him told him not to give in to the prejudice he had been trying to fight against here in Dawnhaven.

At the very least, he had seen this woman with Tia and the Champion of Aelios earlier, so he assumed she was no imposter, but it didn’t exactly set him at ease.

A heavy sigh left him, his restraint unraveling thread by thread. He had fought back frustration all day and now it was beginning to slip through the cracks. Was there no one in this town he could rely on?

Without a word, the Prince turned sharply on his heel and strode past the priestess. Flynn’s gaze burned into the soldier, who still stood wary with his sword in hand, waiting for the next command.

Through clenched teeth, barely above a whisper, he ordered, “Find Hightower. Now.”

The guard stiffened before nodding sharply. “Of course, Your Highness.” The man pivoted and hurried down the stairs, armored boots thudding against the wood.

With his back to the priestess, Flynn exhaled, dragging a hand over the lower half of his face as he tried to rein in his composure. After a moment, he approached Amaya’s door, his hand coming to rest on the handle—ice cold against his fingers.

Lightly, he rapped his freehand’s knuckle against the door a few times. “Amaya...” he called, “We’re coming in.”

Giving her a moment, he half turned, green eyes finding the priestess once more. He studied her for a beat, then asked, “I assume you are a skilled healer? What is your name?”

Ranni gave a quick nod in response, careful to remain quiet and non-disruptive as she looked towards the Prince. A sense of confidence and pride radiating from the Priestess, this being a field she knew herself to be adept. ”I am, High Priestess Tia herself trained me in the arts. My name is Ranni Soleil.” She responded, offering a polite and comforting smile.

Flynn gave her a curt nod before pushing the door open. Stepping inside, he held the door for the priestess to enter, his gaze settling on Amaya amidst all the flickering candlelight.

The room was still ice cold. Amaya’s facial expression was just as distant as it had been when he’d left, if not more so. A question lingered in his eyes, something he wouldn’t ask while in the company of another.

“Amaya,” he said, his voice softer than it had been moments ago. “This is Ranni. She’s a healer… a Priestess of Aelios.” Only then did he glance toward Ranni, his focus reluctantly pulling away from Amaya for a brief moment. “Hightower is on her way too. How’s the wound? Any changes?”

His voice washed over Amaya. The sound echoed somewhere inside her. She didn’t have the energy to search for that place, to follow that echo.

She didn’t react, not at first. She sat in the middle of her bed, fine blankets draped over her legs and pooled in her lap, face blotchy and tearstained. She was motionless, but it wasn’t the careful frigidity she so often used as a shield. No, she was simply too exhausted to move.

Trembling, she was helpless to the chill of her own magic. It was as vast and sprawling as her grief, a quiet ocean that filled her. There were no storms tearing through her, no blizzard to freeze her solid. Just the steady trickle that she barely felt and couldn’t stop, leaking out of her like the tears down her face.

She was staring at the water pitcher on the bedside table. It’d frozen solid, covered in a layer of frost. Cracks spiderwebbed over the ceramic. The whole piece was solid now, but it would shatter when the ice melted.

Amaya didn’t bother to wipe at her cheeks. Briefly, she considered telling them to leave. Would they, if she demanded it? Amaya found that she didn’t want to know the answer.

Finally, she turned her gaze away from the pitcher and down to her arm resting in her lap. The ugly bloodstain marring her sleeve, so thick it was nearly black. The jagged, scabbing wound. The pain she’d nearly forgotten about. It felt… trivial. Distantly, she knew that wasn’t the case. Her wounded heart was nothing compared to the very real threat that bloodied the streets of Dawnhaven. But how much pain and grief could she be expected to keep track of in a single day?

She looked up to find Flynn standing with a stranger at the door to her frigid room, and suddenly all she could see was the patient green of his eyes.

Amaya’s pain swelled like the tide, stealing the breath from her lungs and flooding her senses.

Tearing her gaze away, she focused back on her arm. A fresh tear dropped onto her sleeve, staining the fabric dark. Flynn’s heart clenched. The room felt colder. She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat.

Curling her fingers, she felt the distant arcs of pain in her arm. Then she looked back to the water pitcher and shook her head - an answer to his question. Amaya lifted her arm slightly in silent permission.

Flynn moved before he could think better of it, striding to her side. The bed dipped under his weight as he sat beside her, his hand finding the one she still held in her lap. His fingers wove through hers, warmth spilling into the spaces of her palm that the cold had claimed. But she barely reacted, her grip loose, her gaze averted, and the ache in his chest deepend.

With his free hand, he reached up, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek to wipe away the traces of her tears. There was so much he wanted to ask, but not here. Not with the Priestess watching. So instead, he whispered, his voice low and only meant for her.

“It’ll be okay.”

Amaya’s eyes shuttered closed as another languid tear rolled down her cheek. Soft and close. It seemed that every time her world fell to pieces lately, there he was, soft and close.

Flynn searched her face, longing for her to look at him, to give him something—anything. Even the guarded anger she used to wield against him would have been a relief. His hand lingered against her cheek, but at the sound of approaching footsteps—heavy strides, following closely behind a lighter step—his hand withdrew. Amaya finally looked to him, just as his eyes left her. It felt selfish to miss the weight of him, the softness and closeness. It felt cruel to leave her cold hand in his. Flynn turned his attention toward the door just as the Sage appeared, her expression grim.

“Apologies for the delay,” she began, “I was—”

The color drained from Eris’ face as her eyes locked onto the blonde woman standing in the room, dressed in the sacred robes of a Priestess. Horns protruding from her head, a tail flicking behind her.

Eris felt her heart plummet.

The breath caught in her chest, but she forced herself to forward, stepping fully into the room as the guard closed the door behind her, resuming his post outside the bedroom door.

"Where is Tia?" she demanded, her voice sharper than intended, reflecting the frantic feeling buzzing beneath her skin. "I—I requested the High Priestess. Who is this?"

Panic tinged every thought. Had she requested a High Priestess? Or did she simply ask for a Priestess, assuming Aliseth would know who she meant? Had Aliseth distracted her so much that she had failed this one task?

Oh, goddess. Did you mess this up, Pip?

Her brother’s voice echoed in her mind. Her pulse pounded against her ribs as doubt clawed its way up her throat.

Flynn narrowed his eyes, tension seeping into his very core. “Miss Tomae is busy, apparently.” he stated, his voice taking on a distant, cold edge. Something in Amaya tightened at the sound of his displeasure. She was suddenly hyper aware of where she touched him – how the weight of him tilted the mattress, pushing her arm into his. The stubborn warmth of his hand, curled around her own. She thought, briefly, futilely, of pulling away. Flynn kept his composure, though frustration clearly simmered beneath. The hairpins in Eris’ pocket no longer felt as comforting as they once had. “This is Ranni. A Priestess. A healer.” He briefly looked at Ranni before turning the full weight of his attention back to Eris. “You can still heal her, can’t you?”

The room seemed to take on a more hostile air as a new person, Eris, entered the room and nearly immediately took on a sharp tone. Complaining about expecting the High Priestess, and the Prince himself seeming tense in regards to Tia. Immediately, a burst of protective irritation burst from Ranni; radiating for a moment as she cast a look across the two. She nearly, very nearly, bit out in an equally sharp tone to protect Tia. Yet… she caught herself as she knew that Tia wouldn’t like such… inappropriate behavior out of the Priestess. Not when there was somebody who needed her help.

“I—I…Y—” Eris stammered, her throat dry as she forced the words out. “Yes, I can.” she said more confidently this time, her voice quiet but firm enough to be heard. She did not want to be the object of the Prince's ire, of all people.

Her mind raced. If Ranni was truly a Priestess, then she had to be a skilled healer… right? But Eris had no way of knowing the full extent of her power. No way of ensuring that this wouldn’t cost Ranni her life. At least with Tia, she could be certain. But it didn’t matter now. For the crown, she had to work with what they had.

Steadying herself, she moved to Amaya’s bedside, lowering herself onto the mattress opposite Flynn. Gently, she took Amaya’s outstretched arm into her hands, her fingers warm against the Princess’ cold skin. Pulling her attention away from Flynn, Amaya watched the Sage as she drifted pale fingers over her arm. She kept herself from leaning away from the touch, even as her other hand curled into Flynn’s.

Turning her attention to Ranni, Eris asked, “Do you know detoxification healing?” Her voice was calmer now, more composed than she felt inside as she tried to summon the bits of herself that still remembered how to be a leader. The question was more for reassurance than anything. Regardless of the answer, Eris was going to guide her through it.

Ranni looked back towards the Sage, forcing herself to display a calm demeanor as she nodded towards Eris. Her tail, however, twitched in an obvious display of tense anxiety over the current air in the room. She gave a polite nod, stepping forward a small step. ”Both magical and non-magical means.” She said softly.

Feeling slightly more reassured, Eris shifted her attention to Amaya, her expression softening as she truly took in the look on her face—the sheer distress written in her eyes. That was what mattered. Not the Prince’s scrutiny, not her own fears. Amaya was what mattered right now. This was her entire purpose for being here. She would see it through, no matter the cost.

“Your Highness… may I place my hand on your chest?” She hesitated only a moment before adding, “I’ll need to hold your hand and put a hand on your chest, while Ranni places a hand on your wrist and the other on your back.”

The Sage’s questions, her hesitancy, her gentleness, left Amaya feeling uneasy. Whenever they’d brought a healer to her in the palace, there had only ever been cold orders and sterile efficiency. Why ask permission? Surely ‘no’ wasn’t an option, not if they’d already gone through all this effort of securing a Priestess.

Having one of our best sages walk out of this room to grab a priestess, who we don’t know, but is supposed to be our best sun-blighted hope is the exact. Opposite. Of fine!

The memory came to her unbidden. The force of Elara’s anger, her fear, poured into Amaya, drowning her again. She hesitated a moment before nodding. A new urge flooded her – to know this stranger they’d brought to her. Before she could lose her nerve, Amaya looked to the Priestess.

Recognition dawned. Ranni. Ranni Soleil. Sister to Dyna. The name had drifted through her mind unexamined when she’d been introduced, but Amaya remembered her now. This was the nervous blight-born she’d met at the feast, before…

Her arm pulled from Eris’ grasp. Amaya couldn’t stop herself from tightening her grip on Flynn’s steady hand, pressing into him like she could bury herself. His free hand moved on instinct, settling protectively against her back, his fingers brushing the curve of her waist. Whatever strength she sought from him, he would give it. Cracks spread along the water pitcher, thicker and more jagged as the ice’s chill deepened.

“You’re the mindworker.” It was little more than a whisper.

Eris’ hands hovered in the air where Amaya had slipped from her grasp, fingers curling slightly before she slowly lowered them to her lap. Her eyes flickered to Flynn, catching the sharp intensity in his green gaze—locked onto the Priestess.

Clenching her hands into nervous fists against the fabric of her coat, she too turned her attention to the Priestess, beginning to consider what abilities the blight may have given her.

The attacker hadn’t been the only blight-born today to invade Amaya’s senses with psychic magic. She’d brushed it off at the time, but Amaya remembered the foreign thoughts pressing in on her, the image of herself, cold and regal. Even now she could sense it, if she looked hard enough — a soft, subtle haze that drifted through her mind, tinting her thoughts. It was the odd, dissociative sensation of looking at herself, fragile and damaged, to be pieced together like broken crystal. It was weaker than the last time Ranni’d sent thoughts into her. Amaya didn’t even know that she’d recognize it, if not for her prior experience with it and her magic training. The familiar press of someone else in her mind, bending her emotions, sent her heart thundering, someone else’s poisonous blood pulsing through her veins.

Ranni moved in gently, her expression calm-yet-comforting as she looked towards Amaya. Forcing all thoughts, all worries, from her mind save for a single minded focus on doing whatever she could to help the Princess. She needed aid, and Ranni was unable to turn down somebody in need. Unknown to her, Ranni was also pushing out this single-minded and pure focus on helping Amaya’s recovery throughout the room…

Until Amaya recoiled from her presence.

The Priestess’ eyes went wide, her tail wrapping itself tightly around her own leg in sudden fear and lack of understanding as to what she’d even done. That whisper cut deep into Ranni’s mind, that she was… the mindworker? A sentiment that the Priestess found herself unable to comprehend, particularly how Amaya had seemed to figure out abilities Ranni had that she herself was only even barely beginning to comprehend. She knew she could feel other people… sometimes.

”W-what do you mean, your Highness? I apologize for whatever I’ve done to unsettle you, but… I swear I am what I say, a Priestess of Aelios, and I am only here to help Miss Hightower aid you.” She said, her tone betraying the confusion and lack of understanding for Amaya’s reaction. The same confusion the others would no doubt be able to see in her eyes as the Priestess frantically searched their faces for some kind of explanation.

”P-please, let us help you. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I will leave the moment you are healed, but I can’t just leave somebody in need of aid.” She said, refocusing on Amaya in the desperate hope that the Princess would calm enough to at least let them handle her wound.

Flynn’s silence stretched as Ranni pleaded with them, his jaw tense as he bit back the impulse to lash out at both the Sage and the Priestess. Every instinct screamed at him to protect Amaya, to throw them both out of their home and shield her from further discomfort. The fear radiating from her as she leaned into him made his insides churn. Whatever she had already endured from this woman was yet another failure he incurred from leaving her side this morning.

His eyes shifted back to Amaya, worry lining his features. “Do you want to wait for the High Priestess?” he asked, as if Eris and Ranni weren’t even in the room. Amaya looked at him with wide eyes, again struck by the novelty of being asked. “Just say the word. I’ll send them awa—”

"Y-Your Highness, I would... I would highly advise against this." Eris spoke up, her voice wavering slightly, though she looked at him with conviction. "We do not know what that blight-born's blood could be doing, or will do. The Princess..." she paused, turning her gaze onto Amaya now. “Your Highness… you must be healed.”

In the haze of her cluttered, exhausted mind, fear brought Amaya sharp clarity. Her attention darted between the others and the growing energy in the room — the Sage’s nervous fluttering beneath a determined mask, how the Priestess seemed to collapse in on herself, how Flynn snapped between rigid anger and that careful gentleness he wrapped around her like a cloak with a quickness that left her dizzy. Amaya felt off-balance — she’d made the mistake of unguarded panic, and the whole room had shifted around her voice.

Flynn’s expression hardened as his attention shifted to the Sage, and for a moment, his anger flared. That “Astaros Fire” eager to rear its ugly head. He knew the danger, the uncertainty, but the fear in Amaya’s face was louder than any warning. He bit down again, reeling himself in with a deep breath—trying to peel emotion away from logic.

“You can’t do this alone?” he asked, his voice tight with restraint, though he already knew the answer. The lack of the sun left the Aurelians at a disadvantage, their power diminished by half, if not more. Aelios had damned them all.

Eris’ eyes dropped to her lap, shame creeping across her face as she shook her head. “No, Your Highness. I cannot. Not alone.”

Flynn briefly looked at Ranni, considering her presence—her offer of aid. “What did she do?” he asked, turning a softer gaze back onto Amaya.

A different scene played out in her mind. A memory. A different voice asked a version of that same question. The last time she’d exposed a blight-born using psychic magic against her, a man had been murdered as payment.

“I…”

She could feel the precarious balance of the room, waiting to shift again in response to the unspoken words lodged in her chest.

Ranni's eyes stayed wide, as if she were terrified she'd miss another sudden change in the room. The hostility, the distrust she could practically taste from the air bit at the fragile stability she'd built in her mind ever since she'd… changed. The Priestess seemed to visibly shrink further into her robes, taking a subconscious step back as if she were afraid of being lashed out at. The looks on the faces, and unspoken accusations towards her based solely off what she was left a sour, terrifying taste in her mouth.

She was a monster, afterall. She could see it in the terrified expression of the Princess, and the hardened look from the Prince. Tears started to well up in her eyes, with the young Priestess knowing not how to handle the fear gripping her heart.

Had Aelios lied to her?

The doubt rang deep in her heart, and for a moment Ranni wanted nothing more than to scream. To lash out and show the others in the room how… horrible and terrifying they were being toward her. Show them the very fear pouring into her mind in that moment.

Amaya pulled her eyes away to find Ranni. She took in the way the Priestess shrank into her robes, how her tail coiled defensively around herself, the blink of her wide, confused eyes. She was shocked and anxious, but she didn’t look like she’d been caught in the midst of some scheme. No, Ranni just looked scared. Something in Amaya’s heart softened — but she couldn’t afford to trust it. Not when the haze of magic still lingered in her thoughts, foreign and invasive. It drifted in and out of focus, like torchlight through fog. Her mind scrambled as she tried to grasp at it, to gather the intangible wisps so they could be removed, but with each clumsy attempt she grabbed nothing but air.

Was Amaya the only one affected? Or did Flynn and Lady Hightower, Aurelian as they were, just not recognize the magic for what it was? She couldn’t stop herself from leaning into Flynn, greedy for what she’d spent months guarding herself against. The weight of him, entwining with her hand, curving around her waist, made her want to fold herself into him. She wanted to tell him to send the others away, if only to see if he’d actually do it. But they couldn’t leave, not when the dull pain of her arm suddenly demanded her attention. Amaya shouldn’t have pulled away from Lady Hightower, when all she wanted to do was help. It nearly brought tears to Amaya’s eyes — the muddled, desperate urge to let them care for her.

It’s not real.

Amaya struggled to find the boundaries of what was her, and what wasn’t. The press of someone else in her mind, staining her, bending her, made Amaya’s heart rise into her throat, choking her with blood that wasn’t hers, as –

A sharp crack cut the air.

She felt Flynn tense, his larger frame securing her closer, curving more tightly around her as she gasped. Her hand, the one not encased in his warmth, was trembling. A small cloud drifted between her lips before dissipating in the candlelit air – how had it gotten so cold?

The Sage gasped, flinching at the sudden noise that sliced through the tension in the room. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her coat, heart pounding as her eyes snapped toward the sound.

On the table, the water pitcher was well and truly ruined. Coated in a thick layer of white frost, deep gouges separated the geometric pieces of ceramic. The once solid piece was now little more than tiles arranged and held together by a mass of ice, thin wisps of fog drifted off of it.

Amaya’s eyes widened as she looked at it. Realization struck her so suddenly that she was nearly lightheaded.

The Priestess audibly yelped and recoiled, crying out as she did. ”IMSORRYIDIDN-”

Thunk!

The Priestess’ words quickly cut off as she lost her balance, and tumbled to the floor. Falling heavily on her fear and nearly instantly throwing her hands up as if to protect herself from the attack that was surely coming. Why else would it have shattered…

Eris tore her gaze away from the pitcher, her eyes going wide at the sight of the Priestess crumpled on the floor. Opposite her, Flynn’s expression shifted with brief surprise, though he made no move to help Ranni, still focused on holding Amaya close.

Amaya, ripped from her thoughts by the sounds of Ranni’s panic, was now looking the Priestess over with stunned, thoughtful eyes. She made for a pitiful image – frantic and cowering on the floor, so certain that retribution was coming despite the fact that none on the bed had moved to strike her. There was an ache in Amaya’s heart. Was it real? Did it belong to her? Or was it another violation, forced onto her by the magic she could still feel?

She looked back back to the pitcher, shattered with the force of her own untamed magic.

“You don’t even realize you’re doing it,” she murmured as she watched the soft billowing of the fog. Amaya turned her eyes back to Ranni, eyebrows pulled together. “Do you?”

When no attack came, only the Princess’ softened voice, Ranni slowly lowered her hands. Peaking out with the eyes not of a dignified Priestess, but a traumatized and scared girl. Something in the Prince’s gaze softened, the fear in her eyes striking a chord deep within. For a fleeting moment, he was back in the palace, comforting a little sister who had once worn that same look.

The Priestess stared at Amaya for a long few moments, shaking her head slowly in way of a response. She remained silent, trying to gather herself enough not to break into tears or to scream whenever she opened her mouth.

Amaya took in the blight-born Priestess and her earnestness – contradictions wrapped around each other. Would Ranni turn violent if Amaya revealed her, as the attacker had? Something echoed in her mind, more instinct than answer. It didn’t feel like enough. But psychic magic was a dangerous thing, and if Flynn and the Sage were susceptible to it, and they didn’t realize… they needed to be made aware. She’d had catastrophic errors in judgement today, ones she could measure in blood spilled and tears shed. If Seluna had any mercy left, this wouldn’t be another.

Her next words caught in her throat, thick with fear and memories of what they might cost. Amaya’s hand tightened around Flynn’s, her whole body tensing. Her soft voice landed heavy in the tension of the room.

“Do you know you have psychic magic?”

Eris shifted her gaze from Ranni to Amaya, her brow furrowing. Psychic magic? Had she missed something? She hadn't felt any unusual presence in the air or pushing into her mind, though she knew Amaya would naturally be more attuned to such things. It made sense. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of shame for not noticing it first.

Ranni shook her head. ”I-I've started to figure out that I can… feel? Hear? Others.” She admitted meekly, still seeming guarded as if worried her words would bring the terrifying tension back in full force.

Flynn’s attention fixated on Ranni as she spoke, cataloguing her response carefully. A flicker of unease passed over his features—how had he missed the psychic magic that Amaya had noticed? After years of training to notice these things, how had he let it slip past him?

He glanced briefly at Amaya, trying to read her expression. What was it she had felt, that he hadn’t? What had stood out to her that he hadn’t sensed?

”I didn't know I was… influencing others. I-I-I'm sorry, Princess. I've not been… this… very long. I still don't know how it's changed me.” She admitted further, her voice shaky and interrupted by little non-vocal pauses that betrayed the Priestess to be on the verge of tears. ”I didn't mean to s-scare you. I-I'm not a monster like some of my kind.” She finished, voice remaining soft and guarded.

Amaya watched her move, taking in every flinch and tremor. The revelation of her magic landed softly, confusion clear. There was no rage. No violence, as there’d been with her attacker. Relief was palpable, even if Amaya didn’t know if she could rely on it yet. But she didn’t relax – not when she still felt Ranni’s magic, even after calling it out for what it was.

”I-If you're prepared to allow me, I'd like to prove that. By helping Miss Hightower.” She said, a small hint of the desire to help returning to her eyes as she looked between the Royals.

Yet… a little piece of her faith in others and even Aelios herself did not return.

Nor was she sure it ever would.

Finding her strength, Eris stood and took a cautious step toward Ranni. "You'll be safe here," she said quietly, her breath fogging in the cold air as she extended a hand—an offering to help the Priestess back to her feet.

“The Princess has been through... a lot, as of late,” Eris continued softly, her voice gentle, compassion flickering in her eyes for both Amaya and Ranni. She understood their fear all too well—the way Amaya recoiled from touch, how Ranni raised her hands as though she were bracing for a blow. “As I’m sure you have, too...” She added, her heart aching at the thought of Ranni’s recent transformation and the difficulties of navigating that

How painful and cruel this world was for them all.

Once Ranni was on her feet, Eris turned back toward Amaya, her eyes studying the Princess’ expression as she seemed to assess the Priestess. Nervously clasping her hands in front of her, she waited in silence for Amaya’s final judgment.

Ice blue eyes lingered on Ranni, careful and quiet. Her own panic was dissipating, though the bloodstains remained in the corners of her memory. Something new emerged from beneath the heaviness that had been layered throughout the day. Something familiar and unyielding.

Every stammer and sniffle from the Priestess made Amaya want to flinch, to console and soothe. But she didn’t move. Not when she still felt the soft touch of psychic magic. The wrongness of it kept her heartbeat quick, and her body tense.

Poisonous memories coiled around her, of feeling like a passenger in her own body, of the riptide of her emotions turned against her, of her perceptions turning untrustworthy and traitorous, not with force or violence, but with a thought. Amaya had never once been in control of her own life – but her mind was hers.

The boundaries of her mind had been violated on three separate occasions today – two of those had been by Ranni, intentional or not. She had apologized. But did she understand? Or did she think Amaya’s fear had more to do with what she was, rather than what she’d done? Did she know that even as she assured them she meant no harm, she was still intruding?

It was an impulse. Before she could think better of it, Amaya sank herself into Ranni’s magic, letting it wrap around her without resistance. For a moment she felt untethered, the sickening loss of boundaries leaving her formless. The small intake of breath she gave was the only sign of her discomfort. She tried to remember her body – the aches, the chill, the warmth. She tried to match her shallow breathing to the steady count of Flynn’s surrounding her.

Amaya had never had any real skill for psychic magic – or perhaps she’d just never had the stomach. But she’d sat obediently through her required lessons, and knew enough to detect and guard against it. She used that knowledge now to instead take hold of the psychic connection Ranni had accidentally forged.

If Ranni didn’t know the extent of her ‘influence’, if the paths she created were still invisible and undefined to her, then Amaya would give them definition. She would line torchlights through the fog, and show Ranni the road she’d been walking.

I’ve known monstrous humans, and compassionate blight-born. None of them are permitted inside my mind.

The message echoed through Ranni’s magic like a beacon, faint but undeniable. And then, just as the words began to fade, Amaya mustered her strength and pushed the magic out of her mind. If the Priestess needed an opposing force for her own magic to know itself against, she had it now. Walls came down, forming an unmistakable boundary.

And Amaya was alone in her mind once more.

Flynn barely had a moment to register what was happening before Amaya’s words crashed through him like a tidal wave, filling every corner of his mind, pushing out thoughts and feelings he had believed to be solely his own. The sheer force of it made him tense, his brow furrowing in discomfort. He had never liked psychic intrusions—never enjoyed the feeling of something foreign twisting through his thoughts without permission.

As Amaya’s presence faded, it left behind unmistakable traces—clear threads of magic woven through his thoughts, ones he hadn’t even noticed before. And then, that overwhelming need to help Amaya surged through him again. His jaw tightened as realization settled in. That feeling—it wasn’t entirely his own afterall. Not completely. Ranni’s magic had subtly wrapped around his natural instincts so perfectly that he hadn’t even thought to question it.

But now that he knew what to look for, he could feel the intrusion that had slipped past his defenses unnoticed. A flicker of frustration stirred—not at Ranni, but at himself. He should have caught this. Should have known.

He exhaled slowly, grounding himself as he refocused on the Priestess. Steadily, he reinforced his mental walls, methodically pushing her influence out of his mind. As his thoughts and feelings became entirely his own again, he made a note to brush up on his training. Even if it aligned with his own beliefs, he needed to be able to detect it. His father had taught him to fight against hostile intrusions, but never this. And this was a weakness to be fixed.

Amaya deflated where she sat – only to find she couldn’t move much at all. Flynn was still holding her, pressed so close that she would have blushed if she’d had the energy. He was as solid as the walls she’d formed, and instead of collapsing, Amaya found herself leaning into him. She shouldn’t have wanted to, she knew. After Elara –

Her hand was still in his, loose now, but intertwined. She looked at the mismatched pair, telling herself it was the psychic magic that had pushed her so close to him. Her tired eyes flicked back up to see the two women, still standing on the other side of the room. Eris was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell the room which way to shift again. Her gaze moved to Ranni, and there was that softness in her heart again as she took in the other woman’s distress. It seemed that hadn’t been her magic’s influence, afterall.

Despite everything, there was an odd, hesitant sort of kinship. Amaya knew what it was to be ignorant and out of control of her own magic – the room was still frigid.

Amaya couldn’t bring herself to pull away from the heavy warmth curled around her body. She was too exhausted by the day, the grief, the magic. Whatever strength she’d had to define her will and make it known was gone now. Perhaps it hadn’t been her will at all, but rather the influence of Ranni’s wish for Amaya’s care. The thought soured.

She wanted to turn from the two healers, and give her answer only to Flynn, like it was something secret. He could be the one to command the room – he played the role so much better. But Amaya focused on Ranni. She didn’t let herself break the Priestess’ gaze as her fingers curved around Flynn’s unconsciously. .

Amaya nodded her permission, silent but clear.

---

---

Overnight, the snowfall grew heavier, blanketing Dawnhaven and the surrounding forest in a thick layer of white. Storm clouds moved in, swallowing up what little light the moon could offer. As the snow continued to fall, snow piled upon rooftops and buried the paths carved through the streets, erasing footprints as quickly as they were made. Though the wind remained gentle, it never relented, carrying a biting chill that settled deep into the bones of those caught outside too long.

Amidst the storm, the guards retrieved the unidentified body from beneath the boulder, carrying its disfigured form through the snow-laden streets to the temple of Seluna. There, it was laid alongside the fallen guard from the blight-born attack. Judging by the victim’s clothing, they presumed he belonged to her and would see him off in accordance with Lunarian tradition.

As people awaken, Dawnhaven is quiet, muffled by the weight of snowfall and lingering dread that the blight-born attacker remained unfound. Though the streets had been reopened to citizens, security tightened. Heavier patrols swept the streets, and checkpoints stood as quiet sentinels, their watchful presence a constant reminder of the danger still lurking.

Sya forced the door and pulled inward finding a thick layer of snow on the balcony, it was layered with cold white entirely and unharmed by even a bird's foot print or spec of dirt. It was cold but Sya did not feel it that morning and slithered forward her dark blue scales glittering against the pure white about her body. Granted she has not bothered to dress but being this high up, dark and she was one of the few with the ability to see though the deep gloom. Anyone would see her shape against the moon but this would be suitably private however public it was. It was fun how this little place so open could be her sanctuary also protected and private about it.

“sssss. Another day, anover day i never thought id have.” Sya said with a hiss as she looked up at the moon, guards making trails in fresh snow and watched the lights in Dawn Haven that were waking up and candle light and firelight built up as Sya enjoyed the quiet time. Her days busy, so many things to do. This was her time, her safe space in the chaos.

She never bothered to hide her accent in times like this, Ivor was about the only one she knew fluent and able to speak it as easily as she could. The rest of the time Sya had to translate into the common tongue that never felt fully natural.

…

Outfit.



…

Dressed, ready and free of snow in the same layered short Leather skirt she had taken to liking and a simple blue and yellow tunic more like her homelands style. Her coat lay on the side, blue and fur detailed with a deep hood and soft lining, more a … comfort than practical but it felt nice and kept her from feeling the cool water run down her skin. A forged and twisted iron arm ring rested on her upper arm and the hammer pendant dangled from her neck on a simple leather cord. Not fancy but it suited and honoured her history and origins.

One day she might have gold to use but iron would do for now, her original was long gone and this was a crude copy of the work of her father but it was something…. Something more than the weeks before.

Sya looked in a small mirror, she looked a little more like her old self again, though So very changed and they had never managed to replicate her instructions like the old woman in the lost village had made clothes that seemed to fit effortlessly.

….



….



Sya had signed the second letter rather more enthusiastically with a relish and some energy.

Maybe her letter was abit unhinged but since then as Sya herself…hinged?

…

Sya moved without noise as she entered the bar, having paused to check her ledger and confirm something before she picked up a letter to send in her snug come office, come…everything at times. She even liked to think it would be nice to sleep curled up in the close soft space and wrap her tail over itself and feel safe in her changed self.

She pulled the heavy coat on and shrugged her warm layers over the back of her long tail and sparking blue scales. Sya nodded as she left early morning heading out with her letters safe in a pocket as she slithered through the thick snow layers about the town sticking to the lanes that were less hard packed. Sya kept her tail tip up and out of the snow, the cold made it tickle and she wondered if she needed to make an… Titton? Tlove? A tail hat? To keep snug and warm or the feeling of it?

…

“Eye of the Beholder account pleassse, vot urgent but please when you can today would ve ideal.” Sya said to the postmaster as she left and placed both on the desk neatly labeled and with her looping handwriting and a wax seal on each In a deep red. “Thanksss, il pay you at end of the veek, il take those too please. Add them to my tabzzzzz.” Sya said as she turned away and left with a wave grabbing some more paper, a bottle of red ink, pink and a deep green and a quill set. Her small purchase placed into her coat pocket she turned back into the cold.

Sya was quiet and thoughtful as she beamed out from her warm Fur lined hood that bobbed as she moved fluidly along the ground outside. Flicking her hood Sya nudged it as she looked about and waved her tail passively to shake some snow off that was annoying her making cold wet drips that ran down Sya scales.

The moon was waning above and shook her head, everyone was…that bit tense. There were too Many guards for people to relax. Her mind wandered, she had spent much of the time just trying to keep people fed, busy and trying to maintain at least some calm about the eye, regardless of the storms outside it.

Sya could not claim to have done much but shendid her best looking about, mind wandering to friends and how she would be … treated. Her long coat hid her form a little but it was impossible to hide her nature, had her changes caused rifts that could not be bridged? Sya was feeling quiet as she made way into the main square with a deliberate ease, her new more powerful lower body cut through snow however odd it felt. It was Sya who made herself go slowly as she thought and was lost in her own head.

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