[table][row][cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/MrFrT8O.png[/img][/cell][cell][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/241224/2dff96a131a2215857bd81cacd3d277e.png[/img][/cell][/row]
[row][cell][sub]Location: Eye of the Beholder > Town Square[/sub][/cell][/row][/table]Nyla’s hips swayed, her movements fluid and precise, each twist, arch and hand placement a carefully crafted spell to captivate every eye in the room. Wrapped in colorful silks, they fluttered around her like flames. Music thrummed in her ears—a lute, tambourine and drums paving the rhythm that shaped and guided her every motion. Gold, silver, and bronze coins were tossed at her feet, clattering across the wooden stage of a smoky tavern. Men and women alike leaned forward, greedy eyes trailing her body. 

Effortlessly, she pirouetted, her world blurring from one to the next. 

A grand hall unfolded around her, polished marble floors reflecting candlelight as highborn nobles sat rapt with attention. From across the room, the Queen’s green eyes fixated on her—unwavering, familiar, and stripped of their light.

She spun. 

A dim brothel—whispers crawling through the dark, slithering between raised glasses and crooked smiles. Some faces alight with wonder, others glinting with cruel intent. 

She spun faster.

Dancing on the sunlit streets of Aurelian markets, where the crowd chanted and clapped along to the music, their cheers crashing around her like waves of pure adrenaline. 

She spun in a darkened room, for one man. 

His hands reached for her, catching her mid-turn. He whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. Promises, sweet and poisonous, spilled from his lips. She closed her eyes, leaning into the sound, completely breathless. Motionless. 

The silks tightened around her torso—slowly at first, then viciously. Her breath hitched as they constricted, burning hot, searing into her flesh. A coppery taste materialized in her mouth, rushing into her lungs as blood filled the space where air should have been. She choked, fighting to breathe, but the silk pressed over her lips and sealed over her eyes. Darkness folded in on her, suffocating, crushing. She was drowning, trapped, and powerless against it. 

She tried to scream—

Nyla gasped awake, her body rigid, heart pounding against her ribs. Darkness pressed in heavily across her body, asphyxiating her. She flailed, desperate to throw off the weight of it. Panic clawed at her chest until a sliver of light broke through, distant and faint. She reached for it, pushing against the weight of shadows until she broke free. 

Under dim torchlight coming through her window, she stared down at herself and stilled. Small hands, slender and fragile, trembled against an entire ocean of blankets. She was tiny—small enough to fit into the palm of a hand. Fae.

Somewhere in sleep, she must have shrunk into this shape.

Her wings twitched in annoyance at her back as disgust pulled her lips into a sneer. The room loomed around her, monstrously oversized. 

With a frustrated huff, she sat down, her weight hardly making a dent in the fabric. Fighting against the tide of magic that kept her small, she closed her eyes, and forced her mind to conjure the shape she preferred—taller, stronger, more human sized. It took several attempts, each one feeling like an uphill battle, but at last, heat crawled through her bones, stretching and reshaping her muscles. When she opened her eyes again, she stood tall, back to her usual height. 

She paused for a moment, stretching her limbs, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of her newly restored form. She wasn’t sure she would ever fully acclimate to the strange, shifting sensations of her transitions. 

Her gaze drifted to the window, where snowflakes gathered along the sill. Moving across the room, she leaned closer, peering outside. The world beyond seemed frozen in time, blanketed in an eerie stillness, draped in a shroud of white.

There was a time when the sight of snow had filled her with joy, but now, it only served as a bitter reminder of her own loneliness. A hollow ache spread through her chest as she mulled over her plans for the day. But why bother stepping outside? Why brave the cold and emptiness when there was nothing waiting to warm her? A grim thought struck her—she wished she had died a month ago. It would have been easier.

But her thoughts snagged on Aldrick—vibrant, reckless Aldrick. Still living, still thriving, sparking life into every room he entered. Hadn’t he always known how to survive? To keep moving even when life bled him dry? She’d been like that once—daring and bright. Maybe it wasn’t too late to reclaim the spark that Aldrick had held onto. She couldn’t stand the thought of giving in, of letting the world crush her spirit entirely. And yet…

Her mind returned to Flynn. She remembered the way he’d looked at her, those green eyes, always so caring, that now hid so much behind them. She remembered his embrace, the way it had felt less warm than it used to. And even so, she felt comfortable there. A pang through her heart made her chest feel tight. 

His words tugged at her thoughts—talk of an interview. She scoffed, irritation sparking. As if she were some stranger to him. As if he didn’t already know every corner of her soul, every curve of her body. The idea of him treating her as an unknown, possible threat, scraped against her nerves.

Let him chase her down if he wanted an interview so badly. 

Despite how guarded he had been, he’d still promised her a home here—a place to be safe. Well, she’d find herself a space, then. A little corner to call her own.  

Throwing on her clothes and a thick coat, Nyla pulled her magic around herself like a veil, tucking away her horns and wings, presenting herself as human again. 

Downstairs, she slipped through the inn, hurrying past faces without meeting anyone’s gaze. Snow crunched underfoot as she exited, making her way toward the town square. 

She didn’t quite know where to begin—only that part of her ached for Flynn to come find her, as he always had.