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.
Qia
BlackRoseSiren
SkeankySnack
The Muse
enmuni
Dezuel
Pen Name
PrinceAlexus
Snowdrops
StarBoi
