---

_{Location: The Jail}

---

---

Ah. So he was arrested for talking too much.

This one just loved the sound of his own voice, didn’t he? It was almost entertaining. At least, it would’ve been if he weren’t in Elio’s way. He was so very pleased with himself behind those prison bars, so annoyingly smug about… who the fuck even knew. Elio’s eyebrow twitched up at Zeph’s name, but fuck Zeph too, for running around without Elio and making him worry. The punk was probably fine. He was likely squatting in some alley shoving a piece of cake in his mouth as he waited for Volkov to round a corner.

Yeah, Elio wasn’t surprised that he’d dipped out on guard duty if this was the prisoner. Crossing his arms, Elio leaned against the wall as the blond chattered.

Then Gadez — what a stupid fucking name, it didn’t even sound real — seemed to finally wind down enough to let someone else fill the air. A comment about his skin, a smile like he was waiting for applause, and then silence.

Elio let it stretch. Amber eyes met blue. The quiet filled the air, as thick and potent as any words that might’ve been stacked atop each other like so many layers of bricks in a wall.

When he finally spoke, his voice was easy and measured.

“Elio Azkona.”

Then an impressively built woman walked in and started talking shit. Elio… was he frustrated? Annoyed? Eager? It was hard to tell as they all began to feed into each other. He kept his body relaxed as he leaned against the wall, eyes still trained on the smiling man. But he could feel that familiar fight start building in him. Anger or joy, it all felt secondary to the promise of action. Irritation thrummed through his blood at the new guard’s condescension.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Elio replied, voice deceptively smooth. “Wouldn’t dream of asking anyone to do any work around here.” Wouldn’t that be a change? “I just put my hammer to stone. Nothing grows in winter — hafta build things instead.

“Now if I were, say, a gardener,” Elio continued, turning an easy smile to the guard, “can you imagine the time I’d have trying to get work done now? Planting doomed seeds in a foot of snow, pouring water on them incessantly like I’m not just drowning them in ice? You have to be careful as a tradesman, I’ve found.” Elio cast an appraising eye over his own work, running a finger over the seam where two stones lay against each other. “Get too sure of your craft, and you’re liable to get cocky. Make sloppy mistakes. Like planting in the dead of fucking winter and only making more work for yourself because you didn’t bother to check and see if the conditions were right to begin with.” He looked at the small grains of dust on his finger, rubbing them with the tip of his thumb. He shrugged a shoulder.

“I am but a humble stonemason,” Elio parroted Gadez’s words back at him, amber eyes narrowing. “What would I possibly know?”

---

_{Interactions: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Daphne Athenus @PrinceAlexus}

---

_{Location: The Hot Springs}

---

---

Tia bit her lip, hesitating at the outskirts of the hot springs. Warm, damp air washed over her, chasing away the cold. She watched the man through the steam. He seemed… careful with his movements. Tia had been a healer a long time — she knew the signs to look for when a person carried pain that they didn’t want to reveal. The odd, precise way his back and shoulder muscles shifted as he listed his arms, like one careless motion might aggravate an injury. The tension he seemed to carry despite his obvious relief at the water. He stripped the rest of his clothes and Tia’s cheeks warmed. She kept her eyes trained on the back of his head, his dark hair saturated with water.

Be a professional.

Nakedness at a spring wasn’t alarming to an Aurelian — especially in the Ember Isles, where the bath culture had been even more intrinsic to worship than it seemed to be on the continent. And if that weren’t enough, Tia had seen more than her fair share of naked bodies through her work as a healer. She tried to push any stubborn embarrassment to the side — there were more important things to worry about.

The blood was still stark crimson in the snow. It still painted swirling wisps in the water.

“Sir?” she tried again as she approached. Her feet found the flat stones surrounding the spring where the heat had melted away the snow. Her hand raised. Hesitating, Tia glanced back over her shoulder.

For a moment her surroundings shifted — the snowy landscape of steam and ice became the cave. The silver and gold of the moon and temple lanterns became the soft blues and purples of crystals. But when she looked behind her, a nervous hand stretched out towards something unknown and concerning, her name a warning that whispered in her mind — it wasn’t the guard who stared back at her with hard eyes and a tense jaw. The woman in his place, with her vibrancy and beauty, however, seemed no less wary.

She turned back to the man in front of her, the droplets that trailed down his back stained pink with blood. He was unwell. She saw Ivor and his distress — he’d just… needed a moment. He’d needed someone to reach for him. Worry mixed with compassion as she looked at this stranger, the visitor to the temple grounds that she was meant to steward.

Tia reached out with a gentle hand and touched the damp skin of his shoulder.

---

_{Interactions: Nyla Zafira @The Muse, Vellion Hurst @Dark Light}

Nathaniel Stormlight

---

Location: Eye of the Eye of the Beholder.

---

Nathaniel acknowledged the woman’s comments with a respectful nod, his expression thoughtful on that fateful night. She would have likely slipped in during the guards' lockdown or perhaps moments before it fell into place.

As the soft murmur of conversation enveloped the room, Nathaniel’s attention was drawn to the lady seated at the table beside her husband. Instinctively, a habit forged through countless encounters with nobles and influential figures, he placed his right hand over his heart and executed a slight bow toward them, a gesture steeped in respect and propriety.

When Lord Coswain introduced himself, Nathaniel’s lips curled into a warm smile. “Well met, Lord Coswain,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of cordiality that belied the regal that he often maintained. Looking at Lord Coswain, he clearly had seen his fair share of adventure and battle either good or bad. There was just that aura that he admitted that indicated that he wasn't afraid to draw his blade if needed to defend himself or his people.

However, the polished facade he had carefully crafted wavered dangerously when Lord Coswain casually commented on Daphne’s role in looking after the priestess. A surge of suppressed laughter bubbled within him, recalling the unexpected intimacy shared between the squire and the priestess during their sanctuary in the temple a memory that caused a barely stifled chuckle to rise in his throat. Clearing his throat, he regained his composure. “N-no, of course not. She appears quite capable in a fight; you must be very proud of her skills for you to speak so casually of her.” A faint smile danced on his lips, illustrating his admiration. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, acquaintance, Lord Coswain” his gaze went from Lord Coswain to his wife. Lady Coswain.

As the elderly couple began to reminisce about the joyful days of their youth, their eyes sparkling with memories of love and adventure, the Blight-born girl finally found her voice. She spoke earnestly, explaining her motivations and aspirations as a Sage. Nathaniel listened intently. “Not at all. It’s a valid answer and may indeed serve you well during your interview with the Prince." he encouraged, his tone both supportive and sincere. "I'm Nathaniel Stormlight, I hail from the central capital of Aurelia. I just arrived here yesterday."

---

Mentions/ interactions.

Nesna @enmuni
Lord and Lady Coswain @PrinceAlexus

---

The Eye of the Beholder

---

Nesna smiled brightly at Nathaniel’s suggestion that her introduction might have even been suitable for the Aurelian Prince. Perhaps it indeed was, but it needed a bit of work still—stammering and blubbering like a fool in front of royalty of any sort? Surely that would not stand. In some measure, Nesna’s skepticism at the notion might have flickered across her smile, though Nathaniel’s introduction dragged her out of the doubt before there was much time for it to take place.

An Aurelian, he was? And one from their capital, no less? Perhaps this place was, truthfully, more than a little place to banish stubborn princes and blightborn with the nerve to cling to life. How curious. And how inspiring! Nesna’s smile rallied over the course of Nathaniel’s introduction, even as the fact that there may well have been much greater academics than she’d ever aspired to be running the research here already dawned upon her. Was she at all necessary, or even, possibly, at all of use? Perhaps, perhaps not. But more Sages coming from Aurelia still must have been a good sign that something could yet come of all this. And maybe, just maybe, even a cure.

“What a blessing it is. And how auspicious it is that so many have come together to work to fix all of this…” she began.

Wait. He had said he was a Sage, hadn’t he?

“Excuse me for the indiscretion, but you are a Sage, are you not? I fear I’ve been presumptuous.”

Interactions
Nathaniel @Echotech71

The warrior-monk traced his hand along the stone wall and then blew some dust from his hand, then looked back to Elio, listening to the man speaking. The blonde couldn't help but have a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth as the other man finished speaking. Gadez patiently rested his hands behind his back, his eyes turning into slits as he gradually began to offer a smile without displaying his teeth. Elio? Most likely Aurelian. But he was surely not from the same region.

"Sunspear." Gadez said in an amused tone of voice before continuing. "A stonemason ought to know in order to build a mighty tower, one require to have a sturdy base. Whilst the earth here may be cold and difficult to work with, things may still grow from it. They say the hardiest of things grows in places where none would expect to find them. So I wouldn't say that you are entirely correct on that, mason of stone." Gadez approached the bars and gave a more smug look on his face, his hair momentarily falling over his eyes.

"There are trees older in this world than any structure, one might argue that nature is stronger than any construct made by our kind. Yet nothing is eternal. But indeed, what would you possibly know of that, my dear humble stonemason?" The blue-eyed blonde smirked and kept himself just out of arms reach from the bars now, in case Elio would feel it necessary to try and grab him.

"The earth beneath your feet may not be the only place where seeds may be planted. But in hearts and minds too. You would rather not plant a seed at all, believing it is doomed before it has even had it's chance to prove you otherwise. Then I suppose you feel the same way about the prophecy child? Why even try if the odds are stacked against us? Why even rise up in the morning to eat and drink, when you don't know if the following day is the last? I find it ironic that a man such as yourself, who seems to have left hope behind, to have come to the place of hope that is Dawnhaven. No. You are here because deep within you too have that hope. That somehow this world can still be salvaged. If you cannot be honest to others, at the very least be honest to yourself.

A man who has no belief in himself, the people around him or the world is more dead than those afflicted by the blight. So drop that pretention that you seem to try feed yourself with, and believe in the salvation of this world. Civilization was not built in a single day. Neither were you. Would you look upon a newborn with the same judging eyes? Even if something may appear weak, flawed or otherwise challenged against the world. Such challenges breeds strength of many kinds. Of will. Skill. A physically weak person, who continues to strive despite their weakness. May someday surpass those who walked a smoother path, fed by silvery spoons and wrapped in silk since birth. For they have not known how it is... to rise from a seemingly barren earth."

The vexing man said in a stern voice, his gaze unflinching. Then he changed his expression in an instant and took on a more carefree one.

"As you are a good listener, Elio. I am certain you shall remember this well." He bowed to the other man in a butlerlike manner from the other side of the bars, then the blonde man turned to face Daphne which had arrived.

"Ah... the fine and tall missy. Forgotten me have you? I take it your evening was fruitful last night? As for my reason for being here? A simple reaction to an action, all choices before me, I choose to tread the path that led me here. So many paths are before us, yet we always choose a path and proceed, in the labyrinth of life. No matter what anyone else may thing. When it comes to myself? I do what I have to do. To live life bound by some law other than the law of my heart is that truly 'living'? When you rob yourself of your true desires and the path you know that you want to take, no matter how many pebbles are along the way... as you seek the chest at the end of the maze, hoping that it contains that which you seek." He said softly with a slightly warm smile as his mind seemed to wander to something.

"Word of advice, young lady. Is to take matters into your own hands when they present themselves before you, lest they may be lost forever. Seize the opportunity or it will slip through your fingers. The purpose of your life is to live it as you desire, not what is expected of you by artificial creations... otherwise you might aswell truly be dead." He smiled softly with his eyes closing into slits.
'The stone is here... my dear. I feel it as much as the blood in my veins.'

Kira settled into the furthest, darkest corner of the tavern she could find, fingers curled loosely around the warmth of a coffee mug. She kept her eyes low, never quite meeting the gazes that occasionally wandered her way. Instead, she focused on a small imperfection in the worn wooden table, her attention drifting between the mundane chatter around her. On pure instinct, she sifted through for something worthwhile.

Briefly, a thought crossed her mind, one that had haunted her countless times since her transformation. How valuable she might have been to the King, if he knew of what she was capable of now. Able to eavesdrop from across the room, to hear even the faintest heartbeat beneath layers of noise. If only she weren’t certain he’d have her killed on sight for it.

Most of the surrounding conversation was the usual drivel. Guards grumbling about the cold. Drunken recollections of the previous night. Complaints about food, sleep, or the lack thereof. Speculation on how the Princess was faring, or where her attacker might have gone.

All of it dull. Predictable. Utterly boring.

But then, something… different caught her attention. Her eyes flicked toward the source before she could stop herself.

Unnatural, ashen skin. Two sets of vacant violet eyes. Horns protruding from her head. Batlike wings, pulled in tightly against her back.

Blight-born, and one who had not a single shred of hope to blend in.

Kira’s gaze slid to the company she had been locked in conversation with.

One of them was the guard—the royal guard that she had crossed paths with yesterday, who did not seem to remember her the way she remembered him. And beside him, a woman—another high-ranking Lunarian, judging by her attire alone. Vaguely familiar. Kira squinted, trying to place where she had seen her before. In passing at the palace, perhaps.

She watched them in silence for a few moments, curious how they would interact with someone so visibly afflicted by the blight. To her utter surprise—not with pure disdain. Perhaps a year's time had changed the old guard's heart.

As she processed this, someone new approached. Someone Kira didn’t recognize.

A man. Nobility, no doubt. It was in the way he carried himself, in the fine clothing he wore and the subtle arrogance of inserting himself into another’s conversation. Kira leaned back slightly, uninterested in knowing him, but her focus sharpened as she caught onto their conversation.

The blight-born woman—she wanted to be a Sage?

Kira’s lips pressed into a thin line as she focused her eyes back on the table, listening.

Why play with her?

It was a foolish, naive dream. And cruel, too, for that noble man to be entertaining it.

Blight-born had no dreams, no future beyond what they had been dealt. Their fate had been sealed the moment their veins ran dark. To think she could rise above it, be accepted, be one of them...

Kira had seen the way the Sages looked at her. Fear. Curiosity. Rarely warmth. Then again, she had never given them any to start.

She took a sip of her coffee, thoughts halting as her gaze drifted across the tavern and landed on a familiar shape. A man. Sitting alone, absently pushing food around his plate.

Kira set her mug down, tilting her head slightly, eyes narrowing.

Him.

She recognized that tousled dark hair, the lazy way he sat. Could picture the blood staining her hands as she ripped the dagger out from his torso.

A slow, faint smile curled at the edge of her lips. Had he noticed her yet?

She watched him for a beat longer, then the tavern door swung open.

Ivor entered, his presence sucking the air from the room as he greeted the tavern with his usual boisterous energy, Sya trailing in beside him.

Kira immediately looked away, her nerves prickling. Too many people. Too loud. It would soon be time to—

She froze, a sensation running up her spine.

She wasn’t just being watched. She was being seen.

And, at the same time, approached.

Ivor was making his way toward her, but it wasn’t him that had forced her attention. Across the tavern, the dark-haired man had finally noticed her.

Her gaze flicked back to him. His eyes were locked onto her, unwavering and bold, even as she held the stare for a few heartbeats.

Annoying.

Slowly, deliberately, Kira smiled at him. Just enough to bare a sharp canine, running her tongue over the tip in a lazy taunt. A dare.

Something flickered in his hazel-eyed gaze.

Good.

Satisfied, she turned her attention to Ivor just as he reached her table, her expression softening.

When he greeted her, her expression shifted into something almost—almost—pleasant. She could still feel Zephyros’ eyes on her, but she ignored him, keeping her focus on the giant before her, her mind catching on the word “friend” as he said it.

She supposed, if she were to have one, Ivor would be the closest thing. Loud, larger than life, overbearing. But that vastness was almost comforting. His presence filled the space around him so entirely that, for a moment, there was no room left for anything else—no room for thoughts, for ghosts, for the weight of the past and present pressing against her ribs.

She recalled the quiet of the forest, the shared hunt, the moment of understanding between them. And for the first time in a long time, she smiled.

A real one—small, but genuine.

"Good morning," she replied, voice steady, quiet. "The day has been…. fine, I suppose."

Gesturing to the empty seat across for her, she asked, “Would you like to sit?”

Her own invitation surprised her.

She didn’t offer company often. Didn’t want it often. But today—

No.

It had only been to shield herself from the ire of Zephyros and his royal guard master, if it were to come. A protective measure, nothing more.

“How has your morning been?” she continued, keeping her gaze fixed on Ivor, despite catching Zephyros gesturing at her from the periphery.

---

_{Interactions: Ivor @SkeankySnack
Mentions: Coswain & Persephone @PrinceAlexus, Nesna @enmuni, Nathaniel @Echotech71}

Sya was playing with her tail testing what it could do, the fact she seemed to have enough control to use it life objects was a new trick. Though holding objects was a little strange at first.

Ivor was confident as ever, and openly boomed his announcement Like a tribal chieftain as he headed over where she saw among the crowds…Kiara? She had come after all! Now she needed Onion and Eris to visit, Sya wanted to share her happiness and success with her friends. She frowned at the range available for breakfast with all the chaos and shook her head…no…no…this will not do. She slithered over to the kitchen to find Becky hard at work in the bakery and nodded, she seemed to fit Syas old pair of short boots rather stylishly. The taller ones had not fitted the chunkier woman much as they would be better for winter.

Breakfast… Oh.. Pastry…

A distracted Sya later, Becky helping and a sigh of pain from her but the Lamia did not notice she had a tray with her creations and food for people, some cheese and venison toasted bread with onions and spices, sweet porridge and evidence of her genius idea.. savory hot pastery filled with porridge! The Breakfast Ingot was taking a little longer to work out and the first batch might not even be horse worthy and jail might have them instead. On instance she also had a bowl of hot porridge with her, it would do for a few people anyway, she could always make more.

Becky seemed to disagree but Sya was her boss and the woman seemed to have a whole hyper fixation combined with a random nature to get invested in various things and change her mind fast a charging horse and switch topics, ideas and so. She was a challenge to work with but worth the effort. Becky had a roof over her head, a job and a new pair of warm boots out of the arrangement. It was a two way transfer.

Using her tail to push the door open Sya was able to hold the tray and balance a small bottle of her brew, Friend gift as she could not eat food to what the innkeeper knew.

“Food, Hot food.. sssssseeing as this morning is sssoo, hot breakfastsss” She said with a wiggle as she moved her upper body while remaining perfectly flat, her new form was rather more.. precise and like the dancers at the harvest festival than before. Her tail pushed door closed as she headed to one of her guests, a old man and a woman who she recognised from the night before.

“Miss, savory, or ssssweet, i made a sspecial breakfast.” She said offering the food to her to see, proud of her cooking that was somewhat eclectic nature and smells. Sya had not eaten solid food for about a year so her ideas were not fully attached…nore was her mental stability. Sya meant well though. “You too, Welcome, you vust be her Vather. You were safe i vope.” She said mixing her native and general tongue in her excitement to test out her ideas.

It took her a little force to remind her brain as she was so much easier in borderland and spoke to Ivor without thought of translation.

She turned to see a guard she recognised as a regular too, he drank here and took a hot meal to get away from the chill of the town. “Zeph,” She reminded herself of his name and all the guards looked similar and the pronunciationwas a little harsh as she made the letters work. “Hot mealssss for the guards? After lassst night. Vong night, sleep little, good meal.” She said softly and offered the food to them, she did not pry but knew they had a bad night, her grapevines were not exactly making her feel good.

“Friend Kiara, How are you, freindssss get treated well here, part of ze egg box like Ivor and Onion. I hope he vore careful. And vou stayed safe of course, vomen have more sense.” Sya said happily as she balanced the tray and moved her tail with a skill that surprised her to place a small bottle labeled “Shine of Selene.” onto the table, she held back from a high or so, Sya was very observant and very much also an intuitive person. “Would vou be more comfortable in my perszsonal parlour, or would you like to try the gueessst area upstairs.” Sya said kindly and she would treat her like a friend until the more … loner blightborn was brought safely as one of her box of damaged eggs together, appreciated and safe as a whole. Sya would make a better little world for her friends, she was greedy but she was lonely, and she would do something about the latter. Working out her… quirks and nature would be the first step of friendship. Sya did not notice to her she allowed her more native tone and cadence to come forward instead of the more stunted and less emotive general tongue.

The world took her home, her hearth, heart and family…she would just have to make a new one. Was Sya normal …no.. would Sya do it regardless. Yes.

she turned on her waist to look about, she had shed her coat when she got to bar in the Blue more borderlands styled top with her ever present necklace and new Arm ring, the skirt was becoming a favourite especially ad she did not worry about the length as much now she would be stared at regardless. They could stare at leather, scales or so….they would stare.

She looked about her busy Inn with a sense of pride, the night's events had not killed trade yet. There was hope, she just needed to collect the right people and hold them close.

She waved at Nesna and yup, no breakfast like this for her, maybe a light stew or something other than heavier food, she seemed to struggle with stews. “Good Morning, towns open again, marketssss are starting to set up again, i'm not sure what tea the market has today, but they may have sssome.
We .... cannot promise anything about saving that coat. It was... bad. ” She said cheerfully and visually passed by the lord and Lady who seemed more used to and had already made a full breakfast of their own and quite cared for right now.

They would try to help clean that up but even blessed by both the gods new, old and fated...that coat was worse than she seen blightborn wear who dragged in from the wilderness.

Mentions
@Echotech71@enmuni@The Muse@SkeankySnack@Qia

Daphne

Jail

Good Morning Honey

Daphne was not quite sure how to react to the byplay as she let the things happen, he seemed to be taking the piss out now but there seemed to be a clear history between the two men.

They spoke alot of words, alot was said but very little at the same time. By the goddess she would have a Headache and she asked If she could help out. “Snow, now Snow is never in short supply master builder.” She said with a easy calm as she watched the man behind the bars carefully, Daphne might not be at parade rest but it did not mean she was lax. He purple eyes glanced about and she again wished she had decided to stay and ensure Katherine was safe. “Trust me, I'd much rather be at the Temple” Daphne said candidly as she checked the cell was solidly barred and locked. It was locked and she gave a nod of approval at the builder.

“Solid work this place.” She said more to pass the time as she kept a eye on things, and ensured this . Gadez did not get any tools.

The talk went over her head, she drowned it out remembering the morning she had and the feeling of waking up warm and safe, comfortable and not alone. It was a novelty and she genuinely liked the feelings..

Then his words turned to her and she frowned, she was not dead? Her duty was to protect, goddess of the moon, their was few other things in her hometown, Whoring, drinking, soldiering and working for the church… not much else in Cadia due to the fact it had slowly become a garrison town and pass through for every force out of the capitol.

“I had an eventful evening… As did you it seems, though I did not end up a prisoner.” She said as Walked over to a cupboard to see if there was any food or so for the guests of the jail yet.

His words.. damnit. She did her best to hide the fact it dragged her thoughts back to her adopted family of sorts, to the fact she now wants more than to just be a knight and earn her title, she had other things that might be possible in her life not open the day before. “Least your more polite than the one I did want to throw in here.” She said that mostly to break the chain, she did not want him to win, she did not want him to let her attraction and use it against her.

“So, you got a choice, stale crackers, crackers and oh joy. Stale army crackers. I ate too many of these. Thry do not get nicer or softer.” She Said and grabbed some crackers wrapped into a simple paper wrapping. He had water, but she dropped the food into the cell and turned away and tried to put up mental walls between her mind's pesky feelings.

“Dead? Look around, we are the line… and we are the last gate here, their is no fall back. So. Cadia stands. That is what we do. Im here, so il make most of it.” She said and tried to sit herself in more comfortable mental territory.

…

Her mind was confused when she saw Anora though, how did she miss this woman? “M I lady? This is not a nice place, why are you here? Would you like me to try and get you an escort home. Im Squire Daphne, training under a lord and lady.” Daphne said softer and tried to gauge what was going on.

Why would a well dressed Woman be in jail? She was not his friend or something?

Mentions
@c3p-0h@Dezuel

A small smirk snuck its way across Katherine’s lips as she watched Daphne depart. Her eyes traced the squire’s figure up until the very last second the door shut behind her, leaving herself and Elara alone momentarily. Katherine felt her cheeks warm briefly, before she took a breath and turned to face Elara once more.

“No need to apologize. It’s my pleasure to meet you, Elara,” she nodded her head in affirmation of her own words, leaving a moment of silence as she contemplated what Elara had said, “Well, any and all help is appreciated. Welcome to the temple of Seluna. Please, make yourself at home. Forgive the darkness, I haven’t yet had a moment to light the candles.” That, and she found comfort in the darkness.

Katherine’s eyes flicked to her side as the temple door opened once more, revealing a raven-haired woman with stunning blue eyes. The priestess met her with a warm smile despite the fact she’d practically frozen in place at the sight of Elara.

“Good morning,” she bowed her head slightly towards Ramona, “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m just starting my morning preparations.”

“Let me know if you need anyth---” Katherine’s attention was pulled by yet another new face entering the temple, before a flurry of white feathers filled her vision. A moment later, a beautiful snowy owl landed next to her, before her owner followed quickly behind.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting this many people at once, but nonetheless,” she paused for a moment, her eyes flicking between the two ladies and the gentlemen that had just arrived, “Good morning sir, welcome to the temple of Seluna.” She lowered her head towards the last arrival, before pacing towards her quarters off to the side.

“I guess this warrants some haste on my part, please, give me just a few moments.”

A minute later, Katherine returned with a lit-candle in hand, perched upon a small, iron holder. With soft steps, almost silent on the wooden floors, she moved around the room, stopping at each set of candles and lighting each one with the first. Slowly, the warm orange light began to illuminate the room dimly and reveal the details throughout. The once-inky black pool of water in the center now danced with the twinkle of a few dozen flames. The shadows on the wall swayed and spun like silent partners in a waltz, drawn into motion by the flickering firelight. They stretched and shrunk with each flicker, partners in an endless, rhythmic performance—sometimes graceful, sometimes erratic, but never still.

As she finished her walk around the perimeter of the hall, she moved to the edge of the pool at its center. She bent down and carefully placed the dish onto the water’s surface, letting the candle float on the otherwise undisturbed water.

The priestess stood from her place and faced her guests once more, remaining in place as she addressed them. Her voice was louder now, almost commanding, though keeping her usual warm tone, “Welcome all to the temple of Seluna. Please, enter in peace and walk in her grace. Under the ever-turning phases of the moon, all who seek solace, wisdom, and truth are welcome. May Seluna’s light shine upon you, and may her whispers in the night bring you clarity.”

“I am here in service to our Lady, and by extension, in service to those who follow her guidance. Please let me know if I can be of service.” Katherine smiled to the group before her, the crescent-moon pendant around her neck now glowing in a blue and silvery glow.

There was a brief pause as if the world stilled or held its breath while Tia's hand reached out and came in contact with Vellion's bare shoulder. For a long drawn out moment there was nothing, no response or reply.

Vellion had learned many skills during his life on the streets, but none had served him so well, put as much food in his stomach or prevented pain as frequently or as reliably as the skill of a well placed smile.

Spinning deftly on the spot he turned to face the unknown assailant. As his eyes drank in her features he relaxed, allowing that familiar reliable mask to slip into place. His lips curled with a devilish charm, his eyes glowing with roguish confidence, and he turned to stand boldly before them.

"Greetings ladies, can I help you?" he asked nonchalantly as he ran a hand through his wet hair, pulling back dark, clumped strands. "Are you... looking for something?"

Eyes bounced between them. "Aurelian," he mumbled seemingly to himself with realisation, his smile seeming to grow.

"Or are you just trying to escape the cold? Please, don't let me stop you." He stepped aside and gestured to the hot spring.

Nyla released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her gaze flicked past him to the water—where the bloodstains had begun to fade, dissolving into the rippling surface. But at the water’s edge, droplets still stained the stone beneath their feet. Somehow, any inclination she might have had to step into the springs was swiftly evaporating.

She cast a glance at the Priestess, catching her expression for only a moment before returning her attention to the man. Slowly, she took him in, letting her gaze drift over the full-frontal display he had so graciously provided.

Lean, perhaps a little on the thin side, but undeniably strong. He was built with the kind of muscle that spoke of hard labor, yet his skin remained oddly pristine—far cleaner than any laborer or soldier she had ever known. With shaggy dark hair and deep-set brown eyes, he had a face that might have been pleasant, if not for the unease still humming in her chest. If not for the scent of decay still hanging in the air.

Something was off, but she had no way to pinpoint it.

Her gaze lingered on his smile for a heartbeat, recognition striking. She knew that smile.

She’d met this type of man before—countless times, in countless taverns, pubs, and alleyways. She’d seen that smile in flickering candlelight over ale-soaked tables, lurking in the shadows of market streets, cast across faces both fair and forgettable. That was the smile of a man who wanted something. Dangerously charming. A snake in the grass.

It seemed the Priestess hadn’t lied. Aelios welcomed the damned here, too.

Her own lips curved into a soft, knowing smile. Slowly, she tore her gaze away from him, shifting her focus to the temple's authority—the petite blonde with concern etched into her face.

Tia blinked, suddenly nervous under the force of the man’s stare. Her hand, which she’d brought back in towards her chest when he’d turned, curled into a loose fist. Her fingers were lightly damp where she’d touched him.

She gave him a shy smile.

The man was… fine. Or at least he was trying very hard to seem fine. Tia felt her face warming as he smiled at her, his attention somehow both commanding and disarming. Her eyes flicked over his body, appraising. Fit, skin clear and unmarked… pink droplets still trailing over his neck and torso. There was not a single wound to be seen.

Her eyebrows pulled together slightly as her smile faltered. She’d seen how the man had moved so carefully, and the blood was still bright and fresh in the snow, a clear trail that he’d painted. But there was no sign of injury when she looked at him, not even a bruise coloring his skin. Had it not been his blood? And his body was so… bare for a swordsman. Maybe he was new to the sword? Or he’d always had easy access to a healer? Perhaps, Tia considered, he had healing magic himself. But healing one's own injuries was a difficult thing — Tia had the scar and ruined voice to prove it.

Fingers tightening in front of her chest, Tia remembered the feel of him. It was like his skin had laid too loosely over his muscles, the flesh soft and movable when she’d expected it to be firm. But it had only been a moment — had she imagined it? She looked up at this smiling stranger, not sure what to do with her confusion.

She glanced to the water, visible now that he’d stepped aside to offer them access. Then she looked back to the red on his body, in the snow, in the water. Shaking her head in reply to his offer, she tapped at the small emblem of the Aurelian church on her robe. Tia offered him a smile somewhere between strained customer service and concerned keeper, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

Tia swallowed, trying to gather the threads of her weak voice. At least the warm, humid air of the springs was gentler on her throat.

“The… blood?”

Before he replied to the one who he guessed was a priestess, his gaze held on the other and that knowing smile she wore. He responded in like with a smirk of his own. ‘Game on.’ His eyes teasingly playful and bordering on predatory, he took a deliberate step towards Tia while looking at Nyla.

He was silently taunting her, testing her, studying how she would react. How nervous was she? How protective was she? Vellion need not only read her expressions or movements, not while he gazed deeply into her eyes.

Her attention darted to the Priestess as she stepped back in response, though Nyla remained rooted in place. Her smile faltered for only a heartbeat before she lifted her blue eyes back to the stranger—only to find him already waiting, his eyes locked onto hers.

She held his stare without hesitation, slipping another soft smile back into place. Shying away from men like him had never served her well. They wanted a game. They wanted prey—some soft, submissive thing to make them feel like hunters.

But the bolder ones played differently. They craved the thrill of the chase, the challenge of tearing down something untamed. She wondered which type this one fell into.

Whatever the game, she could play it. She could pretend, if that’s what he wanted. But she had rarely been the prey—unless it suited her.

The snake had yet to realize it was toying with a cat.

Still holding his dark-eyed gaze, she studied him, weighing her options. Could she use this? Could she become what he wanted her to be, just for a moment? Bare as he was, he didn’t seem to have much to offer—aside from a bit of entertainment.

"Oh, the blood. Is that why you are here?"

He looked to his discarded shirt before turning his attention back to Tia as he scratched absently at an itch on his chest. "You Aurelian priestesses are even kinder and more beautiful than I was told, but no. I assure you I am fine. Just a hunter, you see."

He opened his hands outward in a defenceless gesture.

"Things... got a little messy. One second everything is under control and then..." His eyes shifted back to Nyla. "And then... they are very bloody." His smoothly spoken sentence was punctuated with a sweet smile of perfect innocence.

Nyla arched a brow as his gaze met hers again. Bold, then. This one had nerve.

"But thank you both so much for coming to check up on me. Please, won't you stay for a bath?"

Nyla's gaze flicked briefly to the sword leaning against the rocks beside her. "And here I was, thinking that Lunarians were known for their quick, clean hunting skills," She tilted her head slightly as she met his gaze, her smile growing into a teasing smirk. "Silly me."

Matching her gaze Vellion eagerly replied, "Despite skill or experience there will always be prey that makes things…. A little more interesting.”

Taking a few more steps forward, Nyla closed the short distance between them with a slow, deliberate pace—casual, confident, unbothered. Tia’s eyes flicked up to her, relieved that at least she wasn’t alone. She met her eyes, trying to show her silent gratitude. This man was… overwhelming.

"The Priestess was simply giving me a tour of the premises," she lied, her voice smooth as she positioned herself beside the Priestess. She would not be taking a dip in blood-stained waters today.

Her hand shifted, and she extended the towel to Vellion, maintaining steady eye contact as she did. “You look a little cold.”

Vellion’s eyebrow was raised in questioning disbelief as he took the offered towel, but he didn't push the matter, sending a silent message that he didn't buy her excuse but he would play along. "Thank you”

Tia was quickly realizing that she had no place in whatever was happening right now. Standing between the two strangers, something clearly passing between them, she felt like she’d somehow been dropped in one of the springs and she couldn’t quite reach the bottom.

She very much wanted to leave. But she also didn’t want them to have sex in the hot spring if left unattended — she already wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up the blood once this man left.

Though, something told her that the woman beside her wouldn’t be interested in a fling, with how squarely she’d planted herself beside Tia like a sentinel. Her voice was smooth and charming as she flirted with him, but the Priestess hadn’t missed that she’d lied about visiting the springs for a bath, either. Maybe it was time for them both to leave.

Giving a strained smile up towards the man, Tia… tried her best.

“Pardon us,” she rasped.

She bowed slightly — Do not look down. — and tried to back away again. A soft hand raised to lightly touch the woman’s elbow, a silent message.

The sudden raspy comment reminded Vellion that there was a third person here. "Is there something wrong with your voice? he asked bluntly, a curious expression on his face, dark eyes flicking between the two women. Tia faltered. Nyla’s gaze narrowed as her lips parted, ready to deliver a sharp retort.

"Well, I don't want to keep you from your tour,” he added, noticing Tia’s subtle retreat. "But….

"I don't suppose it's an open tour? I am new here and know very little of Aurelian culture.”

Tia’s eyes widened as she tried to think of a polite excuse, when —

"Allow me to give you your first lesson in Aurelian culture,” Nyla began, her expression smoothing into helpful sincerity as she held the venom back from her tone. “Men such as yourself are not permitted to speak to a High Priestess. Nor even look them in the eye.” Tia’s gaze snapped to her.

Nyla let the words settle, watching his face for a flicker of doubt before continuing. “And certainly not address them so boldly.” A sliver of fire slipped through, her eyes narrowing just slightly. Beneath Tia’s embarrassment, there was something warm and grateful blooming in her chest. She cast her eyes down to look at the flat stones surrounding the springs, her cheeks heating.

With a soft, exaggerated sigh, Nyla offered him a faux sympathetic smile. “It’s a shame, really. You’ve already violated at least three sacred customs.” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head as her gaze swept over him with mock disappointment.

“I’m afraid, tradition dictates that if a man disrespects a High Priestess, he must immediately drop to his hands and knees to beg her forgiveness.”

Whatever warmth Tia had fostered suddenly froze.

Nyla’s gaze briefly flicked to the Priestess, seeing panicked eyes and pink cheeks, before returning to him, a brow arched in an expectant challenge, her head tilted—waiting.

An amused nonchalant chuckle escape Vellion's lips. "Well, lucky for me we ain't in Aurelia then isn't it?” he swiftly responded without falter, waving off the insinuation without a thought or care. "Think that's why I never really got right into all the religious stuff. Too stuffy, too controlling, too pretentious. But, one has to admire your conviction. I mean, there isn't even a sun in the great sky but still you lot go on. Dedicating your entire existence to something that isn't there. No wonder you occasionally want to see a naked man kneel before you and feel a sense of superiority over them. Don't worry, I get it. But let's not do it under the pretense of religion.” He teased, his eyes and voice adopting a more sultry nature as he played with obvious innuendoes.

Furthermore, he spoke directly to the priestess and made an obvious and deliberate display of staring into her eyes, but his message, defiance, taunts and deep satisfied smirk were all specifically for Nyla. In turn, the raven haired woman's gaze sharpened as she resisted the urge to step between him and the Priestess, to sever the line of his visual assault.

"I mean, I'm not saying no, or entirely opposed to the idea. I just usually prefer to be the one standing though.” He brazenly looked Tia up and down in contemplation. His thoughts started to stir in more than just his eyes. Nyla’s lips pressed together, an odd mix of irritation and amusement warring beneath the surface. Despite herself, she found something undeniably entertaining about him—the way he refused to back down.

Tia’s skin was on fire. She found herself trapped between the two strangers and their sharp, teasing words meant to put each other down but only embarrassing her. Somehow Tia had become both the excuse and means with which they traded barbs. While their challenging gazes and pointed smiles were meant for each other, Tia was the one covered in cuts.

Eyes darting as she tried to avoid both of their gazes, Tia made the mistake of looking down. Face red, her eyes shot back up to meet the man’s, catching the way he eyed her hungrily. His gaze left a grotesque trail where it landed on her skin, heavy and tacky and too hot. She was suddenly desperate to run back into the temple and wipe the feel of him away.

Tia was supposed to be in charge, she knew. She was the High Priestess of Aelios in Dawnhaven. She was expected to heal and guide, and represent the authority and reliability of the Church, but…

She just felt so small. The hurt that thrummed through her at being used for their game felt childish and petty, but that didn’t make it burn any softer.

The man was uninjured. He was bathing. Tia had no reason to take up any more of his time. She could let him commune with Aelios in his way, even if he didn’t see it like that, and even if spoke of Her with derision. He’d still come seeking the warmth of the Sun Temple, just as the woman had. Even if they’d both only used it to humiliate her.

It was time to leave.

“Please —” It was a tiny sound, cut off by her own ruined throat. Fighting to hold back a cough, Tia clamped her mouth shut. Her shame only deepened. She tried to take in a breath. Nyla’s eyes flicked to the Priestess, the amusement draining out of her just as quickly as it had appeared. When Tia forced herself to look back up to the man’s eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. Or soften. Or offer any patience or grace that was expected of her as a servant of Aelios welcoming a stranger to Her waters, no matter how vulgar his behavior. Instead, she only offered him a small bow.

Tia turned away from him, hating the feel of his eyes on her back but forcing herself to keep her head high anyway. She couldn’t look at the woman. As uncomfortable as the man made her, somehow the woman’s treatment, after their small moments of connection, hurt worse.

Despite Vellion being unable to hold the timid priestesses gaze, he didn't need to use his powers to see the discomfort and pain his little game had caused.

Now all Tia could do was to try and leave with a little dignity.

She took a step and tripped on her robe.

Nyla tensed, instinct driving her forward as she took a step, fingers twitching as if she could be swift enough to catch the Priestess. But luckily the blonde steadied herself, and Nyla let out a breath.

Watching the Priestess retreat up the stone steps, Nyla’s shoulders sagged, shame settling over her. She had been so caught up in the game that her plan had backfired spectacularly, drawing even more unwanted attention onto the Priestess. She hadn’t anticipated just how brazen the man could be and misjudged how a Lunarian might play. Perhaps she needed to adjust her approach for the northerners.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of what consequences might await her for inadvertently adding herself to the list of those who had disrespected the Priestess.

Slowly, Nyla turned her gaze back to the man, her grip tightening on the basket. Gone was the teasing glint in her eyes, replaced by something cold and edged like a finely honed blade. A silent accusation lingered in her stare—Look what you did.

But she didn’t call out to the Priestess. It was better if she left, better if she didn’t have to endure another moment under this man’s leering gaze. Instead, Nyla would stay. If this stranger wanted something to toy with, he could keep trying his luck with her.

“You’re an ass.” she muttered, her tone teasing, but with just enough bite to carry a hint of seriousness.

Well aware of his size and the weapon he carried, she had no real desire to provoke him. She wasn’t foolish enough to push too far while she was alone with him, but he didn’t seem to take offense at her verbal jabs. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it. That was something she could work with.

Besides, if things did escalate, well… she had a few new tricks up her sleeve. She wasn’t entirely powerless.

So she slipped back into the game. Her grip on the basket loosened slightly, the tension easing just enough for her lips to quirk. “Should I just call you Ass? Or do you have a name?”

The snow fell in familiar patterns as Amaya walked down an unfamiliar path. She was trying very hard not to feel like she was making a mistake.

Back in the house — their house — taking Flynn’s hand had been the only natural path forward. His smile as he called her beautiful had been the only truth in the world. And then he’d led her up the stairs and she’d sealed herself in her room… and Amaya had been alone with her thoughts.

Chilling, confusing, overwhelming thoughts.

She’d given herself a moment of leaning her back against the door, eyes drifting shut as she tried to breathe. Then began the process of putting herself back together again. It took longer than it should’ve. Amaya felt undone and laid bare — and her garments weren’t meant to be fastened by the person wearing them.

The absence of Elara, that aching void she used to fill, hurt with every move she made. The attendants began to enter the house and move about their duties, and Amaya felt her heart jump with every new voice, every time the door opened. But the voices were too loud. The footsteps too heavy. Even as she faltered with the ties of her skirts and the buttons of her dress, nerves shooting through her — Amaya knew she was waiting for someone who wasn’t coming.

Amaya was bleeding again. She could feel the freshly formed scabs crack and pull with every move she made. She could feel her own blood, hot and thick as it stained her. It would drown her soon enough.

She didn’t blame Elara for not coming this morning.

She hated her for it.

She was so relieved it took her breath away.

She —

Amaya wiped at stubborn tears.

Her room was dark. Any candles lit the day before had long since burned to the quick, leaving Amaya’s bedroom draped in frigid midnight. Was it colder now than when she’d first stepped inside? The echoes of Flynn’s warmth in her hand had faded. Her magic — her magic. By some miracle it hadn’t run rampant in the night. Probably exhaustion. She’d been so drained yesterday, had used so much magic, both willing and accidental, that there’d probably just not been enough left over to spill out of her as she slept. Even now it felt… calmer, somehow. Placid in a way that left Amaya uneasy. But there was too much to accomplish today to try and examine it too closely. And Amaya was moving too slowly already.

She didn’t need candlelight to finish her makeup and the simple arrangement of her hair. Taming her curls, hiding herself behind the careful image of a Princess, was second nature, and she needed little more than the pale moonlight.

And when she’d stepped out of the front door of the — of their — home, Flynn tall and dashing beside her… Amaya’s mask had faltered at his warm smile, the softness in his eyes. The presence of the guards around her, strangers with distant eyes, made it easier to retreat into herself as they walked through Dawnhaven. Flynn was a beacon that captured her attention with every move, but there were other sounds too. Amaya tried not to flinch at every stray noise and flicker in her periphery. She tried not to let her thoughts spin, her body feeling foreign blood, foreign thoughts, her vision filled with a haunted face and crimson and —

The world stretched so wide around her. Why was everything so open? Where were the walls, blocking away the feeling of eyes and the opportunity for hands to grasp at her —

What was she doing? What exactly did she hope to accomplish, accompanying Flynn to meetings and errands like an errant child, lost if not for a guiding hand to indulge her moods? When had men in uniforms ever seen her as anything but an impractically pretty doll? And Flynn —

Flynn had stopped walking. They stood before a simple building, Aurelian banners hanging limply, pulled by the stray breeze. The snow fell pale across the summer fabric, winter cutting through what should’ve been vibrant and lush. Amaya’s eyes, ice blue and young, took in the sight.

She was suddenly very certain she didn’t belong here.

Her face remained calm. At least she hadn’t completely lost her ability to mask herself.

She flicked her gaze up to Flynn. If there was a flicker of worry, she would’ve denied it.

As one of the Aurelian guards pulled open the door to the Commander’s Quarters, Flynn’s attention shifted to his left, missing the way she looked at him. Instead, his focus fixed onto a gleam of pristine armor and golden hair cutting through the torchlight, moving with purpose in a direct line toward them.

His posture straightened instinctively, a Princely habit tightening his frame. Amaya tensed on instinct, before her eyes followed his gaze. With a subtle raise of his hand, Flynn signaled the guard holding the door to wait. The man obeyed without question, despite the Commanders waiting inside.

Then, as shadows and flickering firelight danced across the approaching figure’s face, Flynn met their gaze head-on.

The Champion of Aelios. He recognized her instantly from the temple yesterday—the one he’d heard had arrested Halcyon. And now, her focus was set squarely on him.

A friendly smile curved his lips, carefully honed over years of courtly encounters. Diplomatic. Polished. A smile meant to put people at ease—or at least make them think he was at ease himself. Whatever business she had, she clearly wasn’t here for idle pleasantries.

"Champion," he greeted smoothly, his voice warm, easy. "What can we do for you?"

He stole a quick glance at Amaya beside him, hoping to gauge her thoughts in just a few brief seconds. But her expression remained as unreadable as it had been throughout their walk—silent, guarded, giving nothing away. Looking every bit the Princess she was, but far more rigid than she had felt the night before, wrapped up in his arms.

A brief exchange of thanks was made with the young Aurelian soldier who'd brought her here, knowing she'd find the Prince at the coming meeting. Dyna could tell from the way the man's gaze stuck to her that there was a more personal hope hidden behind the assistance than a pure professional interest in one of Aelios’ Champions… yet she did not acknowledge it. Turning instead towards the figures of the Prince and Princess, she cut a purposeful path towards the two. While she wasn't particularly trying to appear any particular way, the Champion moved with an innate air of confidence and authority.

As she approached the Prince and noticed his change in posture, the Champion gave a polite nod of acknowledgement as she closed the distance. Stopping a respectful distance away, and offering Prince a crisp salute. After a few moments, she let the salute fall as her gaze lingered over the pair for a moment. Hardening for the briefest of seconds as her gaze traveled over the Princess; the Champion recalling Ranni's description of the previous day. Something flickered in Amaya’s eyes as she held her gaze, but it lasted less than a heartbeat.

Still, she had a task at hand. "I came to report on the arrest I made, your Grace,” she said, looking towards the guard holding open the door. ”Given the reason for said actions, I felt it prudent to report in personally. Can you spare a moment?” she asked, although her gaze betrayed that it was less a request for the Prince… and more a demand for the nearby guard to stop listening in.

Flynn gave the Champion a small, agreeable nod. “Of course.”

His polite smile never faltered, even as he caught the brief flicker of something sharper in her gaze when it passed over Amaya. It was subtle—so quick most might have missed it—but Flynn had been raised to notice the unspoken, to read between the lines of a noble's honeyed words and measured expressions. One of his mother’s many lessons.

A prickle of irritation ran beneath his skin, but he smoothed it over in an instant—this was neither the time nor the place to bristle at silent judgment.

At the Champion’s request, he cast a glance at the guard still holding the door open, offering a short nod. The soldier hesitated only a moment before stepping outside, allowing the door to close behind him as he resumed his post.

Given that the man had nowhere else to go—his duty keeping him stationed there—Flynn subtly motioned to both the Champion and Amaya, signaling them to follow.

It took Amaya a few steps to realize that she’d moved as he directed without question — it’d been second nature. This shouldn’t have been surprising. But something about it, the familiarity, the sudden awareness of it, almost made her stop. It was less than a moment, barely noticeable in the way she moved smoothly after Flynn.

But it was there.

Amaya shoved the odd feeling down, trying to focus again on the scene surrounding her, on the dynamics and personalities at play. Her eyes were sharp and her mind was quick — she’d always been able to rely on these, if nothing else.

Flynn led them only a short distance away, stopping beneath the sprawling branches of a towering pine just off the main path. The crisp air carried the scent of fresh sap, and the ground beneath them dusted with a fine layer of snow and fallen needles. Close enough to the Commander’s Quarters to remain within sight, but far enough for a private conversation. The woods cast a shadow over Amaya’s mind. If she stood a little closer to Flynn, hands tight where they hid in the folds of her skirt, she didn’t let herself think about it.

Turning his attention back to the Champion, Flynn met her gaze again. “I appreciate your diligence, Champion,” he replied, his tone laced with effortless courtesy. “What is your name, if I may ask?”

"Dyna Soleil, Your Grace.” The Champion said after having followed Flynn and Amaya as they stepped away. "I apologize, Your Grace, for not reporting yesterday. The… situation plaguing Dawnhaven seemed the more prudent issue to assist with.”

After a few moments, Dyna shook her head as if chastising herself for something. "My apologies, I will not waste either of your time further,” The Champion said with a polite-yet-professional tone. "The man I arrested, was attempting to spread dangerous ideals to Priestess Tia. In particular…” She said as she cast a look over her shoulder then back towards the Prince. "A desire of his to strike down King Auric.” The woman explained, pausing for a moment before continuing. "He also seemed… excited… about the idea of being questioned by you. I’ve not a clue about the implications there, but you’ve all the facts.”

Flynn arched a brow, intrigued but not entirely surprised. “That is… quite the different claim,” he mused, his voice measured. “Aurelian law does not look kindly on treason, as I’m sure you know.” It was no secret that even a whisper of regicide had been enough to warrant execution in some cases—each sentence left to the whim of his father.

For a brief moment, his mind flickered to Valentina—how, on occasion, his sister had been involved in such decisions. The details were better left unspoken, the reality of her role something he refused to linger on. He buried the thought deep, far beyond reach, where it belonged.

Clasping his hands loosely behind his back, he considered the implications. Threats against the crown were nothing new to him—his family had weathered their fair share over the years. This man would be dealt with, just like all those before him.

And yet, what lingered in his mind was the enthusiasm with which the Champion said Halcyon awaited his questioning. That same unsettling eagerness Flynn had caught a glimpse of at the tavern. Either the man was a fool, or he believed he held something Flynn wanted.

“I appreciate your quick action, Miss Soleil. It seems I could use more people like you around.”

”Champion, Your Grace. I've done nothing beyond my duty. Both to the Church and the Crown, and thus nothing worthy of being addressed separately from my title.” Dyna responded nearly immediately, the trained response coming out nearly instantly. Champions were not to be vain, they were simply but one of the order…

Still, even Dyna herself seemed to blink a couple of times in surprise at how quickly, and without thought, she'd responded. ”If I may be of further service to Your Grace,” She said, turning her attention then towards Amaya, who’d been silently watching the conversation play out. Her pale eyes stilled when Dyna met them directly. ”Either of you,” She continued. ”Please do not hesitate to ask. It appears I will likely be staying in Dawnhaven, due to Priestess Soleil’s… affliction.” She offered with a polite bow of the head.

Flynn’s gaze sharpened at the name. He turned it over in his mind as he studied the Champion’s face more closely. In personality, they were worlds apart, but the resemblance was there—the same shape of jaw, the same arch of the brow and golden hair that caught the light. He could picture the blight-born priestess without the horns, the pointed ears, or the violet eyes.

‘Sisters… twins?’ He thought, the realization settling into place, though he chose not to acknowledge it aloud.

”That was all I had to report, Your Grace. Should I take my leave, or is there more you require?” She said, returning her attention to Flynn. The air of calm professionalism surrounding Dyna, even hints of her previous flash of emotion towards Amaya herself seemingly abolished, as she awaited the Prince's response.

"Please give the Priestess my deepest gratitude.” Flynn said, his tone sincere. “What she and Miss Hightower did last night is worth more to me than I can express and I… I believe I was not in the right state of mind last night to properly convey that." Amaya watched him intently, something softening behind the cool, careful mask she wore. Hidden in the folds of her dress, her fingers twitched, longing to reach for him. He exhaled softly, his expression momentarily thoughtful before he added, "I will find a way to thank her myself, soon. But for now…"

Flynn gave Dyna a deep, respectful bow of his head—a rare gesture of high gratitude from Aurelian royalty. Amaya was stunned, staring at him with wide eyes. Protocol dictated that she follow suit and bow as he did. The Soleil sisters certainly deserved her thanks. But she was frozen in place. All she could do was watch Flynn, the Crown Prince of Aurelia and founder of Dawnhaven, humbling himself — on her behalf. As he straightened, he parted his lips to say more—

“Your Grace.”

A deep voice boomed out from across the path, shattering the moment. Amaya flinched at the sudden noise, a cold, blinding bolt of fear shooting through her. When she came back to herself, she found that she’d moved closer to Flynn, his warm hand securely wrapped around her own at their sides. She’d reached for him on instinct — he’d answered in kind.

Flynn turned, catching sight of Volkov, the Lunarian Commander, stepping out of the Commander's Quarters. Amaya’s walls slammed back into place. The older man’s words were formal, but his tone was anything but patient.

"If you're finished, might we begin this meeting?" The edge of irritation in Volkov’s voice was unmistakable, toeing the line between formality and outright disrespect. Amaya forced her hand to uncurl, trying to pull back and hide herself behind cold decorum again — but Flynn’s grip only tightened.

Before Flynn could reply, the door to the quarters slammed open.

"For the love of Aelios, get inside, you fool. Let the Prince tend to his business."

Barrett, the Aurelian Commander, glared daggers at his Lunarian counterpart, his tone sharp. “Or must I remind you—again—of protocol?”

Flynn exhaled slowly through his nose, already feeling the onset of a headache creeping in. "My apologies, Champion," he said, his own tone laced with a hint of irritation now. “Duty calls.” He inclined his head to her once more. “Thank you, again.”

Without another word, he turned, catching Amaya’s gaze, searching for any flicker of her thoughts. In that brief, silent exchange, he tried to communicate—Are you ready for this? Are you okay? I’m already tired of them.

Amaya met his gaze, her expression cool and composed. But her mouth was a little too tense. Her posture a little too rigid. Looking into the green of his eyes, she took in a slow breath, the sound reminding her of the tide. Her thumb drifted over the back of his knuckles once. When she slipped her hand out of his, he didn’t protest this time.

Breaking their stare, he fell into step beside her, headed toward the Commanders' Quarters. The two old Commanders had begun ushering themselves inside, their muffled bickering barely audible as the door swung shut behind them.

As Flynn reached for the door, Amaya glanced back over her shoulder — back to Dyna, shining and resplendent in her Aurelian armor. Amaya traced the lines of her face, stern and guarded where Ranni had been soft and nervous. She remembered them as they’d been at the feast yesterday, unsteady as one hurried after the other. Something stirred in Amaya, flickering to life like her magic.

She lowered her eyes. Gave a subtle nod of her head. It was less than the sisters deserved, but it was what she could offer for now. She held Dyna’s gaze for another moment.

Then Amaya forced herself to turn and walk through the door Flynn held open for her.