c3p-0h

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Collab between @SkeankySnack, @c3p-0h, and @The Muse
Location: Outside the Jail}

Part I

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Tia was spiraling. Rapidly. The snow crunched under her feet as she walked the path beside Ivor. His hulking form towered over her, making her hesitate even as she tried to keep a steady pace with him. The post office grew small behind them as they moved through town, but Tia felt as if she were still there, stuck in place, her dark eyes darting over the Arch Priest’s letter. The folded sheets of paper tucked away in her inner pocket seemed to burn through the fabric, the Arch Priest’s words spinning in her mind.

What was she doing? She could practically hear his soft voice, see his sad, indulgent smile, as he reminded her to not get ahead of herself. Because of course she needed to exercise more caution. Tia’s mind had always run away from her, tripping down pathways to imagined conclusions as she tried to anticipate needs and preempt problems. Her recklessness — because that’s what it was, recklessness — had cost her so much already. Her mentorship with the Arch Priest. Her future with the church. Her voice. And now by some act of grace she had been granted an opportunity to prove herself again, and what was she doing?

Defying the Arch Priest’s advisement to not share her ‘visions’ with the Prince. Upsetting the Prince with half truths and omissions. Going on yet another ill-advised mission (and an unsanctioned, at that) when Tia had barely survived the last one.

What if she was wrong? The Arch Priest’s warning chilled her – what if she was misinterpreting her dreams as something divine when in reality she was just stressed and exhausted and desperate for some way to help? What if the dreams’ origins weren’t divine or banal… but dark, as the Arch Priest suggested? There was so much Tia didn’t know of the blight, of Dawnhaven, of this land that she now found herself in. What if… something else was taking advantage of her weakness and foolishness to now lead her astray, and everyone who trusted her was now doomed by her own incompetence?

Her feet moved without her mind telling them to – it was too busy contemplating all the many ways in which she could be wrong. Another voice echoed in her mind – that of the Prince, warning her against entrusting more of her visions to the Arch Priest. It baffled her – he was their nation’s foremost authority on the interpretation of visions, and held in high esteem by the royal court, as far as Tia had seen. Why shouldn’t she seek his guidance? Tia’s mind clung to the Arch Priest’s final words of guidance, the words of assurance and support that said he had yet to write her off completely, despite it all. She’d felt the loss of his warmth once before – she didn’t know if she could face it again.

Tia wanted to stop. She wanted everything to stop. Instead, she continued walking down the path with Ivor. It took her a moment to realize where her feet were leading her: the jail. She’d seen it briefly on her first day in Dawnhaven, half finished. It’d seemed so mundane at the time, just another bit of infrastructure being built that she’d given no mind to.

Gadez’s soft smile flashed in her mind.

Tia pressed her lips together, her hands tightening around each other.

Dyna. The thought of the Champion’s stern look was enough to stir Tia’s anxiety. But Dyna was such a stalwart protector, so steadfast in her belief and convictions. She couldn’t bear anything happening to her – couldn’t take her from Ranni, not after all the twins had been through – but Tia allowed herself this moment of weakness as she led them towards the jail. Dyna might not… approve of Tia’s need to find the crystal cave, but Tia didn’t know who else to turn to. Ivor had said there might be danger, and Tia desperately needed someone familiar – someone that she knew loved her. And Dyna was the strongest warrior Tia knew. She had to see the cave. She could only move forward, pushed by a force she didn’t hope to understand.

Although their walk together was quiet, it was not entirely uneventful. The closer they got to town, the more commotion there was as guards, both Aurelian and Lunaran, were running about. Something indeed had caused quite a stir, and it brought Ivor back to the lake’s edge, watching the birds scatter above the treeline. Something wasn’t quite right and it kept him all the more alert as his eyes darted from each individual they passed to the dark spaces in between each trunk and thicket. His eyes always found their way back to the priestess, who seemed wholly out of touch with everything going on around her, given the circumstances, she might as well have been a wraith wandering amongst the living. Since Ivor was there, however, the guards gave both of them a wide berth, which in Ivor’s mind was probably for the better.

Their trip to the post office had proven to be uneventful in the long run, and though the giant had expected her to ask him to lead her towards the cave, she instead silently ventured towards a different destination. Ivor watched, confused, but continued to follow her and found himself instead of watching their surroundings, paying attention to the subtle nuances of his companion beside him. There was fear in her actions, he could tell she still wasn’t fully accustomed to him yet, but there was something else too. Something was eating away at her, preoccupying her mind so much that her feet shuffled on without guidance. Eventually their path brought them towards the jail, the same place the armored woman was supposedly bringing that man to; why would the priestess be leading them here? Ivor’s footfalls halted as the priestess continued forward, as if she no longer recognized his presence there anymore. His head cocked to the side, “Excuse me, Miss Priestess? I know I said we need help, but jail does not seem like a good place to find a guard.”

Tia jumped at Ivor’s voice. Looking up (and up, and up) at him, she blinked, cheeks warming. She opened her mouth. Then she closed it, trying to think of an effective way to communicate with him. Her hands tightened around the notebook she held against her chest — not entirely useless, but his reading level was going to prove problematic if she wanted to write anything more than a few simple words at a time. ‘Champion’ would likely be too difficult to sound out without pausing in their tracks and Ivor’s booming laugh.

Eventually Tia opened her book and wrote the simplest phrase she could think of. She held it up to him when she was done.

Jails have guards.

Ivor leaned down to read the words before looking towards Tia, “You are indeed making the good points, jails do have guards…but aren’t they already guarding something? Like that man that lady in armor was bringing here earlie- ohhhhhhhh…” the connections suddenly sinking in, a spark ignited in his mind, “you are here for the armor lady?” It would make sense that the priestess would be here for her, she was at the temple when Ivor arrived and seemed just as well dressed as the priestesses. She did say she was coming here and perhaps she was a special guard just for the temple, someone that Tia could trust, “She looked strong.”

Tia’s eyes lit up as she nodded at him. Of course… convincing Dyna was going to be an issue, especially if Tia couldn’t explain her visions for her. And she would not put either of the twins at risk with that knowledge. Not until she was certain.

Tia and Ivor continued down the path as the small priestess stewed over how she would possibly get Dyna to agree to this expedition. Soon enough the jail was in sight, guards milling about. Tia watched as one of them, tall, perhaps around her age, in Lunarian armor, stepped out into the snow and directed another man with an unbothered motion. Tia looked up to Ivor and tapped on her notebook before gesturing to the man — he seemed to have some level of authority. Perhaps she could ask him to call out Dyna for them.

The thought of asking permission to enter the jail itself crossed her mind. She saw a pair of ghostly blue eyes. She glanced up at the spear strapped across Ivor’s back.

Tia shook her head, like she could dispel the thought. She buried her nose in her book and started writing.

Nerves made her pulse pick up as she glanced back at Ivor, like she might take some of his massive strength for her own. Then Tia forged ahead, towards the guard. Zeph paused mid-stride, his gaze locking onto a petite blonde who seemed to be making a beeline for him.

Giving a nervous wave to him as she approached, Tia stopped in front of him. She gave a little bow in greeting and held up the book when she straightened.

Excuse us, we were looking for a Champion of Aelios to help us with something. Have you seen her?

Zeph glanced up from the note, one brow raised. His gaze traveled past the woman to the hulking frame of a blight-born man behind her, a mountain of muscle towering over her. The dichotomy between them nearly pulled out a laugh, but he stifled it, simply offering a smile instead.

Focusing on the woman once more, he took her in, his gaze softening. She was small, with delicate features, and robes that marked her as one of Aelios’ own. For a moment, Zeph couldn’t help but wonder if the Prince had specifically assigned a blight-born brute to be her protector—and why were so many Sun-touched folk wandering through the camp lately anyway?

His gaze moved down her frame, noting the way the ends of her robes had gathered faint stains of mud along the bottom. What was a Priestess doing in a place like this? Surely, she could’ve sent her blight-born escort to track down her Champion.

His eyes moved upward again, pausing on the scarf wrapped around her neck. He’d heard the rumors—that the Aelios Priestess couldn’t speak—but he had expected the other guards to be joking due to how quiet she had been around them. Nonetheless, she was just as uniquely striking as they had described. Golden hair framed her face, reflecting back the torchlight, and big beautiful doe-like eyes looked up at him, full of hope.

She appeared softer than any Priestess he’d ever met; the Lunarian ones had always been cold, distant—nothing like the inviting warmth in this one's eyes.

“Well,” Zeph met her gaze, “You’re looking at the poor soul the Champion left in charge, I’m afraid.” he said lightly, his tone laced with a hint of playful exaggeration. “She went to fetch your Prince, I believe.” he shrugged nonchalantly, as though he wasn’t sure, or it didn’t matter much. The Priestess’ eyes widened.

“Is there somethin’ I can do for you instead, Firefly?”

Firefly? That probably should have been considered an insult, especially to a priestess, Ivor however found it terribly clever, causing a snort of laughter to briefly erupt. Tia jumped at the sound, looking back at him where he stood behind her. Zeph’s muscles tensed instinctively, his gaze flicking up to the blight-born, sharp and assessing, but the tension eased almost immediately.

Quickly composing himself, Ivor addressed the guard. “Oh! The priestess has a hard time with the speaking, so Ivor can answer this one! We are here seeking the armored lady, who brought the criminal man, so that she may join us on journey to crystal cave!” Ivor stopped to ponder, “but if armored lady is not here, then we must seek an alter- alte… someone else! Do you know someone who can help us to cross breadth of lake, navigate dark caves, swim frozen waters and maybe kill dangerous things on way?”

Zeph hadn’t expected a blight-born of Ivor’s stature to be so... jovial. It was disarming, in a way, and he found himself chuckling softly under his breath as the blight-born spoke with unrestrained enthusiasm.

The look in Tia’s eyes quickly went from alarm to panic as Ivor loudly announced the details of their unsanctioned expedition. While they were surrounded by guards. With the Prince possibly on his way here.

She looked back up at the guard, too nervous to allow herself to consider how tall he was, or his charming smile, or the way his voice lilted over his words (Firefly?). With Ivor’s mountainous form at her back, and the guard before her, Tia suddenly felt caught, held in place, with all of her misdeeds on display.

This had been a terrible idea.

She blinked up at him. Then she busied herself writing in her notebook, displaying another message.

Church matters.

Zeph’s brows shot up, clearly intrigued. “Church matters?” he echoed in disbelief, a grin tugging at his lips. Tia watched the way his hazel eyes seemed to sparkle with interest. “If I had known this was what the clergy did, I would've joined a long time ago.”

The ever tantalizing mistress of opportunity laid herself before him, offering a chance to leave this miserable camp behind, if only for a little while. He couldn't resist her—he rarely ever had. Besides, a healthy dose of chaos was good for the soul.

The information the prisoner had given him quickly fell to the wayside. Gadez’s intel grew laughably insignificant by the second—a waste of time when Volkov surely had better intelligence already. Volkov was Commander for a reason. What use was there in delivering scraps?

He opened his mouth to speak when, like clockwork, the distant clang of an alarm bell cut through air. Three rings—the town’s warning signal. The higher-ups were finally moving, likely on whatever Gadez had hinted at, he guessed.

His gaze flicked briefly over Firefly's shoulder as the alarm bells tolled in the distance, drawn to the sound, then his gaze settled on her again. “I know my way around a little trouble.” He smirked, glancing up at the lumberjack behind her. Tia felt her mind start working again as his gaze — his smirk — left her. When had her mind stopped working?

Oh no.

“I'm sure the Champion would be happy with me as her alternative.”

Ivor’s eyes squinted as he took in this man fully, he seemed capable enough, around the same height as Ivor, definitely young and definitely ‘alive’. “Hmmm I do not know this man,” Ivor stated bluntly, leaning towards the priestess, his voice lowered to a hushed yell. Tia blinked at his massive head, suddenly next to hers. “If armored lady chose this man to be in charge, he could be useful, but Ivor think he look a little scrawny.” If Ivor thought this man was scrawny, Tia hoped she never found out what he thought of her. Ivor locked eyes with Zeph, then looked back to Tia, “Ivor have test for guard,” then straightened up to his full height, walked forward, stood right in front of Zeph, looked down at him and said, “Punch Ivor.”

Zeph blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You serious?” he asked, meeting Ivor’s crimson eyes. The seriousness in the man's expression answered the question for him.

Tia’s head popped out from behind Ivor’s back, a look of mild concern on her face as she held up her book.

You don’t have to punch Ivor.

Zeph looked to the Priestess and her neatly written note briefly, only offering her a mischievous smile before returning his attention to the blight-born. Her cheeks warmed as she retreated behind Ivor again.

For a moment, Zeph considered the proposition and studied him. Ivor was a behemoth, a fortress of raw strength and towering bulk. In contrast, Zeph—though only a few inches shorter—was all lean muscle and precision, more blade than battering ram. But a challenge was a challenge, and he never could resist one.

“Alright, big guy, if you insist,” Zeph said with a shrug, his grin returning as he began to undo his armored glove. Ivor matched Zeph’s grin, his muscles flexing taut. The cold air bit at Zeph’s bare hand as he slipped it free, flexing his fingers to get a feel for it. The Priestess’ head slowly poked back out, watching the way he moved.

Positioning himself, Zeph rolled his shoulders, loosening up. He planted his feet, his weight balanced as he sized Ivor up one last time. The man stood like a boulder, unmoving.

“Here goes nothing,” Zeph muttered, drawing in a breath, twisting his hips and snapping his arm forward in one fluid motion. His fist slammed into Ivor’s broad chest with everything he had, the force of it reverberating up Zeph’s arm, a satisfying thud resounding through the air. Tia flinched.

The guard who had taken up watch at the jail’s entrance watched on in utter disbelief.

Ivor barely moved as the fist slammed hard into his chest, a dull ache beginning to form. It was barely anything to faze the giant, the feeling more like accidentally walking to a wall than getting punched squarely. In a feat of strength Ivor would be the winner; but he wasn’t testing for that. A wide grin plastered on Ivor’s face as he chortled out in laughter, “HAH! HAHAHA! Very good! Anyone can say that armored lady left them in charge, but not everyone can look an adversary in eye and punch him square in chest! HAH!” Ivor clapped the man on his back with an open palm. Zeph staggered just slightly, the sheer force of it catching him off guard. He recovered quickly, laughing along with the giant. “Ivor like this one, he can come, what say you Miss Priestess?”

It was difficult to not be infected by Ivor’s joy, his wild exuberance. Tia felt a small, baffled smile growing on her face as she stepped out from behind him to look between the two men and their newly forged bond.

Perhaps this was a Lunarian custom.

She stilled under Ivor’s question though — the robes she wore suddenly felt much heavier, the weight of granted authority nearly causing her to falter. They were going on this expedition because of her, afterall. Tia looked back up to the guard, suddenly nervous for a different reason. If this venture went poorly, if they were punished for it…

Zeph’s expression softened as he refocused on Tia, catching the flicker of fear that passed through her doe-eyes. A hint of playfulness crept back in, and his hazel eyes took on a pleading, almost puppy-dog look—silently begging for her approval, for a chance to be welcomed into their inner circle.

After a moment of hesitation, Tia wrote another message. Then her eyes widened as she hurried to write again, before holding it up to him.

You should know we technically don’t have permission to do this.

Please don’t tell anyone.

Her note might have set someone else on edge, but for Zeph, it was like throwing a match into dry kindling. His old, irresistible lover purred in his ear. Trouble. The whisper of her promise was as tantalizing as ever, and a sly smirk tugged at his lips as he met the Priestess’s gaze once more.

“Well then,” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful confidence, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Looks like it’s your lucky day. I’m the best keeper of secrets you’ll find in the north.”

Oh, Tia was going to be in so much trouble. She blinked up at him. Tried to swallow around the lump in her throat.

Then she looked up at Ivor and gave a small nod.

And with that, the Priestess, the Barbarian, and the Guard departed for the crystal cave, the jail shrinking in the distance behind them. Lagging behind the two larger men, Tia looked back over her shoulder. Her skin prickled as she imagined phantom eyes watching her. The weight of the letter in her pocket was a heavy warning with each step. Taking a deep breath, she looked forward again, even as her nerves buzzed under her skin. She’d come this far — there was nothing to do but forge ahead.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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To High Priestess Tingara Tomae,

My dear child, I pray this letter finds you well. May the radiance of Aelios guide your steps and fortify your spirit as you carry out your sacred duty in such a remote and challenging place. Your dedication to our Goddess and the great Kingdom of Aurelia is evident, and I trust you are acclimating well to your new surroundings. Truly, your presence there will be a source of strength to all who seek the light in such troubled lands.

I have read your letter, and I commend your zeal for interpreting what you believe to be the will of Aelios. Yet, I must caution you, dear Tingara, to temper your enthusiasm with patience and discernment.

Visions, as you know, are rare gifts, and interpreting them requires a clarity of mind, body and spirit. Being so far removed from the heart of Aurelia and surrounded by shadows of the blight, it is possible that the darkness of this land weighs upon your mind, leading it to wander where Aelios has not sent it. It is only natural that such things would cloud your thoughts.

I myself have received no such visions from Aelios since the prophecy of the child destined to bring forth her light in our darkest hour. This silence is not to be taken lightly, for it suggests that Aelios wishes us to act with care and wisdom rather than haste.

It may very well be that the dreams you describe are not divine in nature but rather reflections of your own concerns or the trials of adapting to an unfamiliar and daunting place. You must learn to discern the difference.

I urge you to meditate deeply upon this, to quiet your mind, and to let the eternal flame illuminate your path. Within its light, you will find Aelios’ eternal wisdom and the clarity to discern true vision from fleeting dream.

As for sharing your visions with His Highness, I must strongly discourage this course of action. The Prince already carries the weight of countless burdens, and to add unverified dreams to his concerns would do him no service. We must shield His Highness from unnecessary worries so that he may focus on the immense responsibilities before him.

Aelios demands of us prudence and foresight, and it would be unseemly for you to jeopardize the fragile balance of Dawnhaven by introducing uncertainty. Trust that the Goddess will reveal her purpose in due time, and until then, remain steadfast.

I must insist, Priestess, that should you experience any further visions you believe to be of divine origin, you inform me at once. It is my solemn duty to discern the will of Aelios, and together we shall ensure her wisdom is neither misinterpreted nor misplaced.

Furthermore, Her Majesty, the Queen, eagerly awaits your report on the Prince's state and actions. It troubles her deeply that she has not heard directly from him, as any mother would be concerned for her child. I am certain his silence stems from his preoccupation with the settlement; however, it would not be remiss of you to remind His Highness of his duty to the crown and to his family.

Take care, Priestess, for though I question the origin of your visions, I do not doubt your sincerity or your devotion. You are a beacon of Aelios’ light in a land gripped by shadow.

May Aelios’ radiance guide your path,

Arch Priest Iakovou
Grand Illuminary of the Kingdom of Aurelia

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To Her Royal Majesty, Queen Viviana of Aurelia,

I offer my most humble apologies, that this letter comes to you past the scheduled date – a blizzard has overtaken Dawnhaven this past week, and though I would not dare to make excuses for any dereliction of my duties, we have all been advised to stay indoors until the storm passes. Far from Aurelia’s abundance, resources are precious and closely guarded in Dawnhaven. It would be unseemly for a representative of the church to squander resources or manpower with an irresponsible and ill-advised venture into avoidable danger. I am sending this letter at first opportunity, once the streets can again be tread safely. I thank you, Your Majesty, for your patience, as I cannot imagine the urgency with which you await word of Dawnhaven’s status, not only as a Queen, but as a mother.

I write to you as your most humble servant, honored to be entrusted with such a grave task as informing the Crown of the many happenings in Dawnhaven. I shall endeavor to serve the proud kingdom of Aurelia to the best of my modest ability so that we, in cooperation with our fellow souls from the kingdom of Lunaris, may weather the foul tragedy of the blight and return the Sun to Her rightful place in the sky.

Aelios’ warmth shines upon Dawnhaven, if not yet Her light. I would like to report on the truly remarkable progress of the settlement’s construction, the result of His Highness’ dedication to the heavy task laid out before him. Of course, while his leadership is instrumental to the ongoing survival of Dawnhaven, I would be remiss to leave the many citizens now residing here unacknowledged. All people who have journeyed to this growing beacon of promise, in what was an unoccupied and undeveloped plot of frigid forest just two short months ago, have demonstrated an admirable spirit of resilience and cooperation.

Though the blizzard has prevented me from becoming properly acquainted with more than a handful of the residents here, I was able to briefly tour the settlement. In the place of the fear and despondency that one might expect given our current circumstances, I instead found a small but bustling community of individuals working together despite clear and historic differences. Aurelians and Lunarians, humans and blight-born, have all banded together in a truly inspiring demonstration of cooperation and empathy.

My heart sings with pride as I report that my fellow Aurelians, while aching with the loss of the sun, remain resilient examples of Aelios’ perseverance and brilliance. In an unfamiliar land and with such dire circumstances, they continue to adapt. Our Lunarian neighbors have been most welcoming and their aid has been instrumental in helping us learn to navigate this land.

Of course, so many disparate peoples cohabitating together has not been without its challenges — upon my arrival in Dawnhaven I was party to an incident involving a well-meaning, if slightly overenthusiastic blight-born citizen. With the aid of His Highness’ advisor, Lord Nightingale, and the sage Lady Hightower, the situation was contained and I have faith that the blight-born in question will comport himself with more care in the future to prevent such incidents. Still, this has served as a reminder of the caution with which we must act to ensure the safety and comfort of all citizens.

His Highness, in yet another display of his dedication and thoroughness, has taken it upon himself to personally meet with each blight-born resident to learn about not only their unique conditions, but also their humanity. I am ashamed to admit that my own personal history with the blight has at times shaded over my heart. Your son’s patience and compassion is an example I hope to learn from as I reside in Dawnhaven and demonstrate Aelios’ light, as is my duty as Her priestess.

His Highness was gracious enough to meet with me upon my arrival in the settlement. While he searches tirelessly for all possible remedies for the blight, he also, in my estimation, remains mindful of the guidance that has already been provided by the Arch Priest’s vision. We spoke together at some length about Aelios’ will, and the grave task before us. It is no simple thing that has been asked of him. But I have seen his devotion to not only Aurelia, but his subjects of Lunaris, by way of his marriage to Her Highness, Princess Amaya. I believe his strength of character shall continue to guide him, and he will continue to act in the best interests of all, whatever may come.

I have yet to meet Her Highness personally, but news has arrived in Dawnhaven of great tragedy for our northern neighbors. It was announced that Her Majesty, Queen Anjali of Lunaris has tragically passed. I regret to report that I was unable to attend the announcement as I was seeing to matters of the church at the time, but I am told that it was given jointly by Prince and Princess. I cannot fathom the loss they feel at this moment, and I pray that they find comfort in their shared union as they grieve this loss.

There is report that His Majesty, King Jericho, has joyfully found a new wife in the wake of the Queen’s passing and may be blessed with another child soon. I hope that the royal family of Lunaris may find peace with the gift of new life, especially in these times of such burden.

I eagerly await the passing of the storm so that I may rejoin my fellow citizens of Dawnhaven and continue to learn more about the people here, offering what guidance I can. I have expressed to His Highness that I hope to be of aid to the shared mission of seeing the end of the blight and the return of Aelios’ brilliance to the sky. Again, I thank Your Majesty for the opportunity to serve Aurelia here, in this most noble mission.

In the light and warmth of the Sun,

Tingara Tomae
High Priestess of the Church of Aelios

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_{Written in collaboration with @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Collab between @SkeankySnack and @c3p-0h
_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Tia tried very hard not to cower under the giant’s piercing stare. Her eyes drifted over his hulking form. She was mortified with herself when she flinched at his bow, his massive head coming close to hers. The sound of the heavy temple doors closing echoed down the hallway — and Tia was alone with the massive blight-born man. Her fingers tightened around the staff.

He was… disarmingly polite, despite his towering figure and harsh accent. Tia jumped when he let out a guttural curse and stomped away from her.

One hand against her chest, she tried to slow her breathing. She… she needed a break. It seemed like today had only piled one overwhelming development after the other, and Tia was exhausted. Her eyebrows scrunched together and she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to steady herself.

She had a guest in the temple — an enormous, terrifying guest who’d just witnessed the arrest of a possible traitor to the crown — and Tia was still responsible to see to his needs. Even if she would’ve really appreciated a nap instead. Or to bury herself underground. Or just a nice good cry.

When the man came clomping back to her, Tia’s eyes were open and she had a polite, if strained, smile on her place. She hoped he paid no mind to the enormous weapon she carried.

He shoved his hand towards her and she flinched back. An… offering. Well, it was thoughtful if nothing else. Tia smiled up at him, her expression slightly bemused. If he had gone to all this trouble to procure this… offering, then it was a blessed gift for Aelios. She would… just need to figure out what to do with it. Soon. Before it started to smell.

She shook her head up at the man — Ivor — in response to his hope that Aelios wouldn’t be mad. Trying to fight through her worries and anxiety, she gave him as encouraging a smile as she could manage.

Then she looked from his face to the fish.

_{...Tiiin…Gaaaa…Raaaaaa…}

Time stopped.

Its scales sparkled with a path of blue and purple starlight.

_{Where are the stars, Tingara?}

“Where…”Her throat wasn’t recovered yet. Her was soft and rough, the word burning her throat. Tia stopped herself. Tried to swallow. Then she looked back up at Ivor’s face.

“Hm?” Had she said something? There was a noise that came from her shocked expression, but perhaps it was just a gasp? No, this time there was a word, but it was almost whispered, barely perceptible for the giant to hear. “Speak up please, yes?” Ivor said, approaching a little closer, “Ivor is having trouble hearing…” he stopped and cocked his head to the side, really taking in her expressions and stance. He had noticed it earlier, but the flinching, the strained face, it reminded him of Eris when he first began taking lessons from her. He remembered asking what was wrong with her face and the lesson was cut shortly after that. She would later explain to him that a man as large as he was considered by many to be ‘intimidating’ and ‘unapproachable’. His lesson for the day, at his request, was how to be ‘less scary to tiny people’.

“Oh, what was it Miss Eris said?” he paused, pondering the depths of his mind.

‘Smile at people when you meet them…b-but maybe not so intense like that. Softer, like this.’

Ivor forced a smile, not the kind of smile he’d give that was wide, happy, toothy, but more subdued like Miss Eris had shown him. What resulted looked something more akin to a set of puckered lips with an upward curve.

Tia blinked at him, fresh alarm on her face.

‘You’re also pretty…tall, so m-maybe make yourself shorter like the person you’re speaking with.’

Ivor had lowered himself down on one knee earlier, but even then he was still towering over the priestess. Perhaps if he took a seat? Checking behind himself first, Ivor began to lower himself down on his rear, careful not to drop the fish as he plopped to the ground with a dull thud, shaking the floor in the process. Tia’s hand darted back to the staff as she tried to steady it — or herself. Just as he was about to speak, Eris’ words poured into his brain once more.

‘And maybe don’t yell at people when you talk to them, lower your voice, especially indoors…’

Oh right, ‘inside voices’; “Miss Priestess,” Ivor whispered, “Could you please maybe, speak a little louder, Ivor cannot hear what it is you were saying.”

Tia’s eyebrows raised as she tried to make sense of the display. Then her cheeks started to pink as realization set in. He was… trying not to scare her. This behemoth of a man, arm muscles thicker than her torso, with a voice that boomed so loudly it filled the entire temple — even sitting down, he was still nearly at her eye level. Tia felt embarrassment flood her, that her fear had been so obvious that he’d taken it upon himself to treat her so carefully. Even if his attempts were clumsy and he still dwarfed her, it was… oddly touching.

This time when Tia smiled at him, it was softer. More genuine. Even if there was an apology buried in it as she met his crimson eyes.

Her lips pressed together. Then she gave a small shake of her head in answer to his question, raising a hand to tap against the scarf covering her throat.

Ivor watched as her body language seemed to relax a little and with it, Ivor’s strained smile turned a little more genuine, still soft, and not so toothy. Ivor cocked his head in the other direction to ponder her action, then it clicked, “You..cannot speak?” That didn’t seem right, he definitely heard her say something. Maybe something happened that was preventing her from speaking, maybe why she had her neck covered? He didn’t know all the answers, but he knew enough to nod in solidarity. Whether it was something physical, or a personal choice, Ivor wouldn’t pry further into the matter.

She looked back down at the fish. It seemed bigger, now that it wasn’t held in Ivor’s enormous hands. Familiar shades of blue and purple danced along its scales and for a moment Tia was lost in the river of colors. Looking up at Ivor again, she hesitated before pointing a finger at the fish. She stopped herself. She bit her lip. Then she used both hands to tilt the weapon she was holding towards Ivor, a silent request to hold it.

He watched as the priestess pointed towards the fish, hesitating before leaning the staff towards him. Looking between her and it, he figured it was getting in the way of whatever she was trying to do. Leaning forward he grabbed the staff, easily lifting from her grip. Inspecting the tool over, he hadn’t noticed the exposed blade, nearly the same length as the handle. His eyebrow raised curiously before he returned his attention back to the priestess, whose sight laid upon the fish offering. “Is good fish yes? You want to know more about it?” He paused and thought, “if you cannot speak though, how is Ivor to do the talking with you?”

Tia watched as he handled Gadez’s weapon, guilt briefly sweeping through her. It was so important to him… but Ivor wouldn’t damage it, right? It would be fine. Tia was only letting go of it for a little while, she told herself. Then she met Ivor’s eyes again.

Holding up a hand for a gesture to wait, Tia turned from Ivor to move back into her room. Her pulse spiked as she put her back to him — claws and teeth and pain flashed in her mind. But… Ivor was sitting. He whispered to her like he was trying to soothe a small, scared animal — and Tia supposed that to him, that was exactly what she was.

She crossed her room to her bedside table and pulled the drawer open, the paper and pencils rattling slightly within. Tia glanced over her shoulder to find Ivor still sitting in the hallway, holding the weapon. The fish glittered on the floor before him.

Turning back to the drawer, she pulled out a loose sheet and hurriedly wrote a message on it. Tia walked back to Ivor to hold the paper up. Her hands trembled slightly as anticipation built within her. The fish was a heavy presence between them.

Thank you for the offering — it’s very kind. Where did you find the fish? Was there a cave nearby?

Ivor waited as she held up her hand and returned to her room, watching as she reappeared with a sheet of paper. Holding it up to him he stared at the words, a mess of lines and scribbles, a contrast of black and white. He blinked, staring at the note for a few moments, it wasn’t nearly as neat as Miss Eris’ handwriting and her letters were much bigger than whatever was written on the sheet in front of him. He looked to the priestess, then the paper again, slowly he reached out and grabbed the sheet from her hands to look it over more closely. Some of the words he recognized, others…well he needed the practice for Miss Eris’ next lesson.

“Th- Tank..you, for, the, the off- the offer- offferrring…offering. It is, very, ki- kid? Ware…did, you, finned, the the….hmmmm fie-shu. Was, there, a…a cave, nerby….”

Stars above, he can’t read.

He looked up from the sheet back to her, “what is fie-shu?”

Tia made a small, distressed sound — or at least, she tried to. It came out as more of a breathy, half-formed squeak as her nerves grew. Her hand shot out to point down at the fish again.

He looked at the fish on the floor, then the paper in his hand. “Ohhhhh! The fish!” He bellowed out in laughter at his blunder, quickly covering his mouth as the noise echoed, “Ivor apologizes,” he spoke softly.

“Where did Ivor find fish and was there cave nearby?” Ivor asked before shaking his head, “no…” then he paused, “wait..yes, there was cave,” he reminisced, “Ivor fell down a hole before blizzard, stumbled upon cave that glittered like like sparkle at twilight, found many MANY fish!” He emphasized by stretching his arms out wide. “There is more outside, for the town, should keep many bellies full, yes?”

Tia’s heart was thundering in her ears — but his words cut through. She was nodding before he even finished speaking. Kneeling down on the floor, Tia wrote again on the paper. She tried to take a deep breath, writing as clearly as she could even as her hands shook. She held the paper back up to him.

Please show me?

He read over the words aloud again, and with that simplicity came clarity for the non-native speaker. “You want me to show you the fish cave?” His eye scrunched as he assessed the woman before him. Ivor hadn’t intended on showing anyone his recent fishing spot discovery, lest some greedy thieves come along and fish up the whole supply. He didn’t really feel that would happen if he showed the priestess, but the request was unusual coming from a person of her status. Then again, maybe she just found peace fishing? Ivor could understand that sentiment.

“Okay, Ivor will show you,” he smiled and nodded, “but, why do you want to see the fish cave?” His inquiry was serious, but his grin didn’t fade, hoping to ease her nerves.

Again, Tia hesitated. She knew her request was odd. She knew she was treating this fish — the cave — with more importance than would be expected. The force of all the secrets she was supposed to keep slammed into her, and it was nearly suffocating. She looked up at the large man who’d been nothing but courteous to her. Tia didn’t want to lie to him. But the Prince’s warnings, along with the Arch Priest’s echoed in her mind — don’t tell him.

For a moment she just looked up at Ivor. Then she brought the paper down again and wrote out another note.

I need to follow the crystals.

Ivor thought for a moment, “Cry…stall…criiiii oh.. The crystals! Küch, the spellings is strange on that one,” he recalled the cave formation, two entrances, one on either side. Technically he made one of those finding his way through the first time, but there was no crystals outside of that room. Ivor shook his head, “I do not know which of these crystals you can follow, the fish cave was the only place with the crystals…” he paused thinking harder, “although…I could see the fish down in the water because…crystals were lighting up in the water…” he looked at her seriously, “can you swim?”

Tia’s mind whirled. The crystals were… underwater? She thought of the snow — the Lunarian chill that she still wasn’t used to. Living in Dawnhaven was the coldest she’d ever been in her life, nevermind going for a swim —

But her dreams flashed in her mind. The glitter of the stars, embedded in the black of the cave. The burning, bristling heat, urging her forward.

She met Ivor’s gaze again. She nodded.

“Jabool!” Ivor rolled back before kicking his body up onto his feet, “what in the world are we waiting for, let’s go then!” Ivor turned and started walking for the door then stopped. “Oh,” he turned back, realizing he was doing the thing again where he does but needed to think, “you might want things, our journey takes us around the lake to base of mountain,” he approached the priestess again. “We may also want extra companion for the journey, in case of ‘the danger’.”

Tia’s eyes widened at the word danger. Somehow the thought hadn’t even occurred to her — that she might be walking into something that was impossible to walk out of. Her scar seemed to burn beneath her scarf. The fabric was weighed down and sticky, soaked through with crimson.

The last time she’d ventured out, desperate to help, desperate to prove useful…

Tia was laying on the ground, staring up at the river of stars in the sky, her blood soaking the earth.

And the thought of bringing another on their journey, into danger, nearly made her take back her request to explore the cave. Not to mention… what would the Prince say? He’d looked at her so coldly, the distance between them a gaping chasm as he’d told her about the upcoming expedition and to keep her visions a secret — to tell him if she’d had any more. She was already lying to him by omission. What would he say — how would he punish her — if he knew about this unsanctioned expedition to explore a vision she hadn’t told him about?

But there was that sensation again… that weight on the back of her neck that whispered and urged her forward. Tia looked down at her hands. She still wore the ring that had been given to her by the family of the boy she’d healed that first day in Dawnhaven. The fire opal glittered as her hand trembled, the flecks of color dancing light firelight.

Like stars.

Tia looked back up at Ivor. He was still holding Gadez’s spear. Tia didn’t know if he would approve of another wielding it — but somehow Tia felt better if it went on the journey with them. And she certainly wasn’t strong enough to use it. Finally, she gave Ivor a nod. She hoped it looked more confident than she felt. She doubted it, though.

She fluttered around her room, assembling what little she could in a bag. She paused though, as she looked through her closet. An ornate box, gilded and glittering in gemstones, sat hidden at the bottom. The word danger echoed in her mind again.

Tia was a healer. She didn’t know the first thing about combat or defending herself — she’d never carried a weapon before. But her fingers touched the scarf wrapped around her neck.

A weapon wouldn’t have protected her that day, she knew. She hadn’t even seen the attack coming, and trained soldiers had been ripped apart like it was nothing. Tia remembered the scattered bodies she’d woken amongst.

But still, her gaze stayed on the box.

Finally, she opened it and pulled out a ceremonial dagger, with an ornate hilt and a glittering sheath. It wasn’t meant to be used for combat. It felt blasphemous even holding it before its time had come. It was heavy in Tia’s hands, the metal almost hot to the touch. But it was all she had and the blade was sharp, she knew - sharp enough to pierce a heart.

Tia slipped it into the thick fabric that secured her robe, adjusting the belt until it covered it completely. She would take care of it — it would only come out if absolutely necessary, she promised.

She finished her preparations, stopping by her table again to leave a note for Ranni and Dyna and all but inhale the forgotten bowl of soup (it was warm as it filled her, centering her… and making her sad again as she thought of the one who’d brought it to her) and then she was finally ready…ish. Ready-ish.

She stood before Ivor, nodding at him as confidently as she could. Even as her heart drummed in her chest. She held up the paper again, another note written at the bottom.

Post office first?

While the priestess ran off to gather her supplies Ivor stood quietly in the hallway, boredom quickly set in as he fidgeted with the weapon he was given. It wasn’t his, but he was impressed with its design and even weight distribution. It wasn’t anything like his battleaxe he kept mounted on his hut’s wall, but it was a good blade. He took a few practice swings, noting the hardened metal ball on the other end felt more familiar than the sword end. Its design suggested it was meant as a walking stick, but it was too short for Ivor to wield as such. Reaching for his belt, he pulled some rope slung to the side, cutting a length and fashioning a sort of sling to rest the blade across his shoulder and back. Taking a few more practice swings, he slung it over his shoulder once the priestess reammerged from her chambers, another note in hand.

“Post office? Do you know someone there? Strange place to go to before cave, but who am I to do the judging.” Ivor stepped aside, allowing her to lead them, “I will follow where you go, when you’re ready to go to the cave, just let Ivor know.” He smiled, “Ready when you are.”

Tia led them through the side door near the springs — she needed to retrieve her notebook and charcoal that she’d dropped what felt like a lifetime ago… before her sisters had returned to her, before she’d gone against the Arch Priest to reveal her visions to the Prince, before Gadez had… been so very Gadez, only for Dyna to haul him off to a cell. She buried the fish in its place, hoping the snow would keep it fresh.

And then the priestess and barbarian were off, finally headed into town and away from the temple grounds.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

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Elio stilled at the weight of Aliseth’s hand on his shoulder, amusement clear on his face as the guard chugged his drink. Then Aliseth gave him a smile, cupped his fucking cheek, and in the most condescending voice possible, told Elio to grow up.

Everything about Elio sharpened. His muscles tensed and coiled, and his eyes flickered with a dangerous glint.

He wanted to play today? Fine. Elio didn’t know what frozen-ass bug Aliseth had caught, but Elio was going to fracture him like a sheet of ice until the man was nothing but shards melting against the heat of his hands.

And then the guard leaned across the bar towards the innkeeper and murmured — murmured, like he actually wanted the blight-born close enough to hear him — that there’d been a murder. Of a guard.

The stillness Elio held now wasn’t of a predator looking at its next meal. It was cold and careful. The light in his eyes shifted. Hardened.

Aliseth stood to leave — like he could just walk away after that.

Still leaning back against the bar, Elio shot his leg out to knock against the guard’s now empty chair. It shoved forward with a screech against the floor, the edge of the seat colliding with the back of Aliseth’s legs, forcing him back down.

“What happened?” The mirth was gone from Elio’s voice. His expression was stony. His eyes moved over Aliseth again, reassessing. Those stains on his uniform were deep and saturated in the tavern’s firelight. He’d mistaken them for mud before — but he saw the crimson hue now, the scratches… he looked back up at Aliseth’s face, took in the hollows under his eyes.

Aliseth wasn’t just reporting information — whatever had happened, he’d been there. And now, instead of going on the hunt or securing the townsfolk or being laid up in bed, Aliseth Kain was here drinking about it.

How had it happened? Wasn’t the fucking sun-prick supposed to be vetting all the blight-born? Or was he too busy hooking up with his blighted mistress to bother doing his job properly?

“Which guard?” he demanded. Elio’s eyes darted around the tavern. He hadn’t seen Zeph for most of the day — he knew he’d been stationed here for the feast but the kid wasn’t exactly known for following orders… part of the reason why they got along. His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles pulling his skin tight. “Zeph?”

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_{Interactions: Aliseth Kain @Dark Light
Mentions: Syraeia Leela @PrinceAlexus, Zephyros Hale @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Collab between @The Muse and @c3p-0h
_{Location: The Royal Home}

Part I

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As Amaya’s voice, soft and fragile, reached him, Flynn’s heart lurched. The sound of her calling his name was a tremor in his chest, a breaking of the barriers she'd stubbornly built between them. The exhaustion and pain were evident in her expression, and the ice of worry still gripped him, but the sound of her voice, speaking his name, ignited something deep within—vulnerable, protective, and all-consuming.

“Amaya…” he whispered back to her, his voice heavy with a mixture of shock and tenderness. His brows furrowed, concern clear in his expression. Gently, he cupped her face in one hand, his thumb brushing over her cheek as his gaze locked onto hers. For a moment, he lost himself in the pale blue of her eyes, as if searching for something, some way to fix what had happened.

Amaya felt like she was still dreaming — like she was still floating in that water, even as the memory slipped through her fingers. She didn’t know that she recognized this new reality she’d woken up to, with Flynn’s hand on her cheek, his thumb smoothing over the last traces of salt on her skin. He was warm. How was he always so warm?

She didn’t look away from him. She couldn’t. In the darkness of her room, there was only the moonlight to see by. It cast everything in shadow and silver — except for his eyes, green as ever.

Silence stretched between them as he tried to find the right words, but all he could manage was, “I’m sorry…” His voice wavered, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, the carefully constructed mask of the calm, collected Prince began to crack under the weight. Something inside Amaya broke with him.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated, genuine regret reflected in his emerald eyes. “I thought you’d be safe there, I thought—” He stopped himself, shaking his head, pulling his gaze away for a moment, as if to shake off the helplessness that gnawed at him. There was no justification. No excuse that could mend this mistake.

Amaya’s eyebrows drew together as she looked up at him, her sluggish mind trying to dust off the sleep and exhaustion. He was so heartbroken as he looked at her… had she done this? Caused this? She wanted his eyes back on her again, suddenly desperate to find the answers there. But she couldn’t move. She was trapped in this moment, his hand on her cheek, her heart stuttering back to life.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” he said, his voice softening as he returned his gaze to her again.

Breath drifted over her parted lips, like her lungs finally remembered how to work now that his eyes were once again on hers.

And then all at once it came back to her.

The man. The attack. Sir Abel. Elara.

Amaya gasped back to life, suddenly frantic. Eyes wide, she tried to move her limbs only to find them covered by something warm and weighted.

Flynn’s hand fell away from Amaya’s face as she gasped, breaking the fragile calm that had enveloped them. Relief drained from him as quickly as it had come, replaced by alarm as she writhed beneath the weight of blankets.

“Amaya,” he said quickly, his voice laced with urgency. “Amaya, stop—” The words were firm but gentle, an attempt to steady her before she pushed herself too far.

In the tangle, she brought her arms up by her sides to try and push herself upright. Pain lanced through her arm as she placed weight on her right palm. It was deep and aching as it shot from her wrist, outwards towards her fingers and elbow. Her arm buckled into the mattress and she let out another sharp sound of pain.

Flynn’s heart clenched at the sound. Without hesitation, he folded the blankets back to expose her arm. His eyes darted over her, searching for fresh blood stains or any sign that her injuries had worsened, but found nothing. A small mercy. Gently, he took her trembling hand in both of his, cupping it as though his touch alone could soothe the pain away.

She flinched at the feel of his hands against hers, a memory flashing in her mind — of hands, cold and pale, latching onto her, trapping her in a web spun to ensnare her mind.

Silently, Flynn cursed his lack of skill in healing magic. If he could, he would have expended every last drop of his mana reserves to help her. Instead, all he could offer her was his presence. And hope that her magic wouldn’t lash out in icy tendrils as it had before, freezing into his own skin. Still, he didn’t pull away.

"I'm here… Just breathe." he said softly, his gaze locked with hers, willing her to focus on his voice. The words felt hauntingly familiar, echoes from a moment when her magic had spiraled out of control. Back then, he had whispered the same words, trying to steady her.

He cut through the fog of her adrenaline. That voice, those words, soft and close…

Flynn captured her attention again, fear sharp in her gaze. But she wasn’t afraid of him. No, with sudden clarity, Amaya realized she’d never been afraid of him. What was stranger — that this was surprising, or that it had ever been an option at all?

This fear she felt, like ice encasing her heart and freezing her veins, wasn’t for Flynn. It was for her. Her mistakes. Her failures. Every mark against her, tallied in a careful ledger with the royal seal emblazoned on its cover — the latest ones drawn in blood.

“Please, don’t move,” Flynn murmured, a quiet plea, his gaze unwavering. “You need to rest…”

She pressed her lips together. Her eyes started to burn with unshed tears as his voice washed over her. Emotions swirled, a tangled, terrified mix of grief and helplessness. But still she was trapped, held in his eyes.

“I’ve asked Elara to find Lady Hightower, the Sage. She should be here soon.” he continued, trying to reassure her. He longed to say more, to promise her that nothing would ever harm her again, but in that moment, words seemed inadequate. And like something he couldn’t possibly deliver on. “Elara did what she could to get you stable. Lady Hightower should be able to provide more assistance.”

Something loosened in Amaya’s chest — Elara. She was alive. Relief flooded her as she finally closed her eyes again, turning her world dark. She sank back into the bed. A tear escaped, slowly rolling down her cheek.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, glancing at her wrist. “Elara said the blight-born… injected you… with his blood?”

Amaya let out a shaking breath. Her eyes still closed, there was nothing but the feel of her bed beneath her. The weight of her blanket. The ache in her body. The warmth of Flynn’s hands still wrapped around hers.

Her fingers curled around his large palm. Her grip was weak. Pain still echoed down her hand, exhaustion keeping her from holding too tight. But she needed to feel his hand — his weight, his warmth, his pulse. She needed to erase the memory of cold hands trapping her, a voice echoing in her mind, Until next time my pretty snow dove…

“He used it to form a… a psychic link.” Trying to force the words out was like trying to wrench herself free from his grip, as foreign blood forced and tore its way through her. Her voice was frail and small. She kept her eyes closed. Flashes of memory fought against the reality she tried to anchor herself in, her narrow world made only of her bed and Flynn’s hands. “To speak with me.”

This is your fault.

Amaya finally opened her eyes again, looking up at Flynn. The moonlight painted him in muted colors.

“Is he…” Her voice trailed off, like she was afraid to even give life to the question. If she didn’t know the answer then she wouldn’t have to face whatever came next.

He shook his head solemnly, lips pressed into a thin frown. “The guards are hunting for him as we speak.” he said quietly, wishing he had better news to share. “They’ll find him.” he added, his tone assured despite the doubt whispering in the back of his mind. He knew the guards assigned here were not Aurelia’s best, nor Lunaris’. Competent, but not elite—expendable, should Dawnhaven fail.

Flynn’s attention snapped to the door as a light knock broke the silence. He straightened, turning to see the guard from earlier standing in the doorway, holding a candle. The man’s expression held a faint trace of worry as his gaze shifted between the Prince and Princess. “Pardon, Your Highnesses…” the guard said, gesturing to the candle. “May I?”

Flynn glanced back at Amaya briefly before rising to his feet. Amaya’s hand was suddenly cold. The space next to her on her bed was achingly empty. “I’ll take it,” Flynn said, crossing the room. “Keep watch outside,” he instructed firmly, taking the candle. “Lady Hightower should be on her way.”

As the guard nodded, Flynn hesitated for a moment, then added, “Double the watch around this area and report any updates on the search for the blight-born. I want to know the moment there’s progress.”

“Right away, Sir.” The guard gave a nod as he turned, disappearing into the dim lighting of their home.

Without any eyes on her, Amaya swiped at her damp cheek. Her hand — cold and empty and alone — curled into a loose fist, as if to keep from reaching out. She pressed her eyes shut again. Tried to listen to her shaking breath. Her thundering heart. Crimson flashed in her mind, staining the snow, a scream piercing the air.

Closing the door, Flynn moved through the room, lighting unlit candles scattered about until a soft, warm glow pushed back the darkness. Returning to Amaya’s side, he placed the candle on her nightstand.

A heavy sigh escaped him as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Running a hand through his hair, he stared at the wooden floorboards, his muscles tense with unspoken thoughts.

After a moment, he straightened and shifted, angling his body to face her again. “Did the blight-born say what he wanted with you? And—” he paused, his brows furrowing in confusion. “How did you end up so far from the tavern?”

Amaya flinched at the question — a sign of how shaken she was, that she couldn’t hide such a reaction. When she opened her eyes, the world wasn’t moonlit silver anymore. Instead her room was bathed in flickering gold, the warm glow of the candles dotting the perimeter like orbiting stars.

Her eyes found him again at the center. He seemed farther away somehow, even as he sat once more at the edge of her bed. Pain echoed from her arm as her fist curled tighter, but at least her magic was quiet in her blood. It was apparently drained by the events of the day. Amaya’s mouth was dry. She tried to find the words to explain herself.

“I…” She pressed her lips together. Then she gave a small shake of her head, looking away from him. “He was hungry. I don’t think he even knew who I was.” Her heart hammered in her chest as she remembered his face — that moment he’d looked at her with pure grief, like he hoped she could offer something that she’d never had to begin with. It wasn’t just blood he’d been after. “I realized he was trying to magic me and alerted the guards. We — I led him away.”

As he listened, a knot of worry tightened in his chest. The thought of Amaya putting herself in harm's way like that made him feel physically ill. ‘Does she even realize the danger she put herself in?’ he thought, a feeling of guilt passing through him. He hadn’t involved her in the day-to-day operations, like interviewing the blight-born, and perhaps she didn’t comprehend just how unpredictable these creatures could be. Why else would she take it upon herself to do such a thing?

Though, he didn’t doubt her intelligence—far from it. And truthfully, he couldn’t entirely fault her, either. If he had been in her place, would he have done any different? He doubted it. He would’ve put himself between a feral blight-born and innocent lives without hesitation, just as she had. They both cared deeply for their people, and that shared instinct was something he admired about her.

She knew exactly what she was doing, and that made it worse.

“You could have been killed.” he said firmly, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that conveyed the depth of his feelings. “One wrong move—hell, even one wrong word, and—” he cut himself off, trying desperately to keep himself composed. He drew in a deep breath, pulling his gaze away from her, and stayed silent as he gathered himself.

“Please… don’t put yourself in danger like that again.” he said finally, returning his gaze to her, his voice softer this time. “I couldn’t stand to lose you.”

Amaya stared up at him with wide eyes. She’d been bracing herself for a reprimand, or a demand for an explanation, or disbelief at her recklessness — at the very least, some remark on the blood that had been spilt because of her foolishness. But Flynn offered none of that. Just his green eyes filled with an emotion she didn’t know how to name, and his plea. Something pulled painfully at her heart. It was like a tether had been fastened around it, tying her to him. She didn’t know when it’d been placed there. Quiet words slipped out of Amaya before she could stop them.

“Am I yours to lose?”

His expression shifted instantly, brows knitting together as if she’d struck him with an unexpected blow. Her words cut through him like the edge of a blade. Just like that, it felt as if her barriers had returned and their fragile connection slipped right through his fingers.

The look in his eyes changed—worry giving way to something deeper. Confusion, disbelief, and a flicker of hurt mingled in his gaze. His lips parted to respond, but no words came. Instead, he studied her intently, searching her face for some clue to the reason behind her doubt, as though he couldn't quite believe she didn’t already know.

Amaya watched it all play across his face, her breath still in her chest and her heart pounding in her ears.

Finally, after a moment that felt far too long, his voice broke the silence, steady and certain. “Yes. You are.” he said simply, matter-of-factly, the conviction in his tone leaving no room for question.

“I apologize,” he continued, his gaze unwavering, “if I haven’t been forward enough with you, Amaya. So let me be clear.” His voice dropped slightly, quieter, but no less firm. “I care for you—deeply. The thought of losing you… terrified me.”

His hand reached for hers, hesitating for just a moment before he gently took it in his own. “As much as you’ll allow it,” he said, his voice softening, “you are mine. And I am yours.”

His words washed over her like the tide. His hand warmed hers, his pulse whispering into her skin.

Amaya was floating again. The sea held her, with its salt and patience, and for the first time since she was a child, she thought that perhaps she wouldn’t drown.

Her fingers moved slightly, to press into the skin of his hand. It was hesitant. It should’ve been a simple motion — he’d laid himself bare like it was simple. Like affection for her was the most logical outcome for this mess they’d found themselves in.

…Why couldn’t it be?

Amaya looked away from him. After a moment she pulled her hand from his.

She moved slowly, weighed down by pain and this newfound weakness in her body. Careful not to agitate her arm, Amaya managed to sit up in her bed. Leaning back against the headboard, she was finally near eye level with Flynn again. She still wasn’t looking at him.

Then, she reached back out to ghost her shy hand over his. It was the first time she’d initiated any sort of contact with him at all, rather than an answer for his requests or an obligation for the sake of appearances. She didn’t have the nerve to wrap her fingers around his, as he’d always done so easily. But it was what she could offer.

Unable to help himself, Flynn closed the gap between their hands, his fingers sliding gently to interlock with hers. His pulse quickened slightly, their touch sparking something within. He wanted more. But the fear of pushing her too far, of breaking this fragile moment, held him back.

It was a long moment of Amaya listening to her own pounding heart before she managed to softly say, “What did you know of me before all this?”

Flynn hesitated, his gaze drifting down to their intertwined hands, lost in thought. He had known this question would come some day—he had been waiting for it, in a way—but hearing her finally say it made him falter. The memory of the months before he’d sent the marriage proposal flooded back.

When he had originally proposed the idea to his parents, the King and Queen were both appalled. He’d spent days in heated arguments with them, desperately pleading with them for a chance.

But the Queen had only been swayed after a painstaking investigation into Amaya’s life. Just as she had always done with Flynn’s possible suitors—the Queen demanded to know everything. From her upbringing to her circle of acquaintances, even her favorite foods and her daily habits. Luckily for the Queen, King Auric had carefully placed spies within Lunarian walls years ago.

When they finally received information back, Flynn was struck by how little they actually knew about Amaya. She was more shadow than person in their eyes, a Princess locked away behind the cold walls of her castle, unseen and unheard. What they did know chilled him—her father’s treatment of her was far from kind. The way he looked at her, the words he never spoke while under the watchful gaze of others, the fear in her eyes—it said enough.

Flynn’s mother, however, had only seen this as an opportunity. The meek, quiet Princess could be easily controlled by a man like Flynn. Her son was charming and assertive, and Amaya was already trained to submit to him. They could use this to their advantage.

The thought twisted his gut, and he clenched his jaw, unable to stop the disgust that surged within him. That cold, calculating look in his mother’s eyes would be forever burned into his memory.

Still, he had sent the proposal. He had felt an odd sense of sorrow for her, this Princess so different from his siblings—so unlike his bold, confident, and unyielding sisters. She was fragile. And yet, the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was strong in ways he couldn’t quite comprehend.

He shifted closer, looking back at her now. “Before I knew you… I only knew the stories they told me,” he began, wishing she would lay her eyes on him again. “They told me you were quiet, reserved… hidden from your own kingdom. They told me you were afraid… weak… that you were not like your mother, the shining light in a dark kingdom.” He paused, his thumb gently brushing over her hand as he spoke.

Amaya held very still as she tried to not shrink into herself. She’d asked her question because she’d thought she’d need to explain her own shortcomings — why she was incapable of being whatever it was that he saw when he looked at her. But he’d already known.

His words were predictable. But the sharp pain in her chest was no less real, nor was the burning sensation behind her eyes as she thought of all the ways she’d been diminished. She’d never been real to the people of Lunaris – just a shadow on a wall, silent and intangible. Her eyes were unfocused as she looked at some distant spot at the edge of her bed.

He inhaled, his heart aching for the woman in front of him, this woman so much more than the timid, broken image they’d painted for him. A quiet desperation filled him. The need to reach her, to make her see what he saw, to know what he knew was true.

With a gentle motion, his free hand lifted, fingers brushing against her chin. He didn’t want to startle her, didn’t want to push her, but he needed her to understand—to look at him. Slowly, he turned her face toward him, tilting it ever so slightly until their eyes met. Her breath stuttered.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak, simply letting the quiet tension hang in the air between them, his gaze steady, warm. His heart beat harder now, though it wasn’t out of fear.

“But when I saw you for the first time… I saw something they didn’t.” his voice softened, eyes comfortably lost in hers once more. “You were reserved, sure…” he trailed off for a moment, his eyes never leaving hers. “I could see you’d suffered. But the way you’d looked at me that day—with such defiance.” he smirked, amused by the memory of her in her wedding dress, glaring daggers from across the room when she thought he hadn’t seen. “I could see you were wise, too. Observing, while everyone else drunkenly babbled…” A surprised breath escaped Amaya at the memory. The corners of her mouth twitched up for just a moment.

“You were the strongest in that room. A quiet strength that people overlook, the most dangerous kind. I could see the truth of it in your eyes...” his thumb lightly traced her jawline, his gaze drifting briefly to her lips for a moment before returning to her eyes.

Her lips parted at the touch. The only things that mattered in the world were his hands and the way he looked at her.

“Fierce, despite it all.” his voice dropped, barely above a whisper.

Was she leaning towards him? She hadn’t told her body to move, but it was as if he had a gravitational pull all his own. His words filled the space between them, another tether securing her fragile heart to his.

“I knew they were wrong about you then.”

His words didn’t seem true, not when Amaya felt so small and breakable. But he said them with such certainty, she was almost convinced. They nestled deep in her chest, radiating heat that warmed her from the inside out.

Amaya reached up towards the hand that cupped her face, as if seeking another connection. Her fingers barely grazed the back of his palm. Then, slowly, hesitantly, they slid along his skin, until her entire hand was against his. They were close enough that his breath ghosted over his skin. He was all she could see – his golden hair, the flecks of olive and orange and seafoam that made his green eyes alive with color, the curve of his cheekbones and jaw… but even as he drew her in, Amaya found herself hesitating.

Her voice was soft when she spoke, a fragile thread reaching towards him.

“My entire life, he took things from me that I didn’t even know I could lose.” She couldn’t name him. His specter still had his hand around her neck, his hateful eyes smothering the light. Amaya felt stunted and malformed, like a sapling planted at the start of winter with only shadow and frost to live off of. And now, here was the sun. And it was blinding. “And now I…” The words caught in her throat.

Flynn’s chest tightened, the trembling in her voice threading into his soul. Every part of him ached to take away her fear, her pain, to shield her from all the hurt she’d endured.

Amaya looked down, finally breaking away from his gaze. She was trembling. Her hands curled tighter around his, like she could anchor herself against her own emotions. When her eyes returned to him, they were unguarded for the first time – vulnerable, and fearful, and hopeful all at once.

Lost once again in the depths of her striking blue eyes, he felt the breath leave his lungs. Her gaze held him captive, and every inch of his being ached to close the space between them.

“Flynn, I don’t know how to do this.” How to be strong. Survive. Be his.

She wanted to, though. What a terrifying thought – wanting.

“I don’t know either,” he confessed, his lips curving into a faint, rueful smile. His gaze fell to her lips again, lingering there for just a moment longer. Suddenly, all the hesitation he had felt since the day they met dissolved, and his heart answered for him.

His lips met hers with a tender urgency, sparks dancing across his skin the moment they touched. Every unspoken word, every longing glance, every tether of their fragile bond coming alive in a single heartbeat.

A rush of warmth flooded him, an exhilarating wave of adrenaline coursing through his veins as he leaned into her. Her lips were soft and hesitant against his, but he poured everything he felt into that moment—his reverence for her, his yearning, his promise that he would be there, no matter what.

His heart thundered against his chest as his hand slid from her chin to the nape of her neck, his fingers threading into the dark waves of her hair, tangling in the silken strands cascading down her back. The world around them faded, leaving only the intoxicating closeness of her.

His lips found hers again, and this time, the kiss deepended, slow and searching. A small sound escaped her, a hand coming up to rest on his chest.

Instinctively, he drew her closer, driven by an unspoken need for a deeper connection. He had spent so long trying to understand her, to unravel the layers she kept hidden, and now, with all her barriers gone, he found himself eager to know more. Another slender hand found the side of his face, fingers drifting into his hair.

As if coming to his senses, Flynn slowly pulled away from her—only slightly. He rested his forehead gently against hers, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment a little longer. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and steady, filled with a quiet hunger he fought to push back.

“But you’re not alone anymore.”

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

---

---

Elio raided a dark eyebrow at Aliseth’s pointed look. He watched the way the knot in his throat bobbed with each deliberate gulp. As his smile grew, his curiosity flared. What exactly had Aliseth acting like this? The mystery was positively tantalizing as Elio catalogued each peculiarity.

He was drinking, for one. Though of course Elio had already noted that, along with his churlish mood. Aliseth was a hardass that took his job too seriously, but that storm he’d brought with him when he’d entered the tavern was new. But there was more than just that — he’d been downright genial to the innkeeper, who was the most visibly blight-born person Elio had ever seen. And then there was his uniform — Elio’s eyes drifted over the stained cloth and dirty armor. The fabric was too dark to make out what he was stained with, and the dancing firelight made it difficult to identify what marred his armor. And those furtive looks he kept throwing about… Elio had the self control to keep from turning in his seat to try and find whatever it was that the other man had spotted. Instead, he kept his attention on Aliseth, bringing his amber eyes back up to his.

“I was saying,” Elio replied, voice easy as ever, “that something crawled up your ass and I wasn’t invited.” Elio turned in his seat to lean back against the bar, propping his elbows atop the smooth wood. “Trying to make me jealous?” he needled. “If you want me in cuffs so badly, all you had to do was ask.” Elio’s smile was cheeky, even as he looked away from Aliseth to scan the tavern. What exactly had the guard seen to make his face so dark? He paused when his gaze landed on something — someone.

Well there’s a suspect.

Perhaps the innkeeper wasn’t the most inhuman looking blight-born in town. This new one was certainly a contender. Skin so grey it was nearly lavender, four blank, glowing eyes, wings, horns, black ooze… Was it a competition? Did they all get together before the blight to brainstorm ideas on how to look absolutely fucked?

A tail. That was interesting. Elio wondered how prehensile it was.

He finally turned his attention back to Aliseth, like he’d never left at all.

“Then again, you look like you’ve already had a proper run-through today. What, he didn’t stay to cuddle? That what’s got you so sour?” Elio’s voice stayed light as he goaded Aliseth, waiting for a reaction.

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth Kain @Dark Light
Mentions: Syraeia Leela @PrinceAlexus, Nesna @enmuni}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Amaya was seven years old, fear like ice in her veins, stopping her heart, as she threw her soaking, freezing body into her mother’s embrace.

She wasn’t crying. It felt like she should’ve been crying. All she knew was terror and desperation and ice. But she couldn’t breathe deep enough. Her lungs spasmed from the shock and cold, and her voice was locked away. What would’ve been tear tracks lining her face were instead crystals of ice and salt, so cold they seemed to pierce her skin. She tried to bury herself in her mother’s arms, thoughtless to how she soaked through the fine fabric of her coat. All that mattered was her mother — alive, and warm, and all the love that Amaya had ever known in her short life.

Ice crawled along her skin like a virus. It froze her wet hair into dark icicles, made her clothing a cast around her tiny body. Her mother whispered to her as she huddled close. Amaya couldn’t hear what she was saying. There was only the music of her voice, soft and familiar. There was only –

The pond.

Amaya was ripped from her mother’s arms,

into the water. She didn’t feel the impact. She’d never left the water at all — she’d always been there, floating. She was the moon suspended in the sky, dark and clear. She was the heart of a fresh snowflake, a matrix of crystals born from her body and crawling

out

o....u....t

o........u........t

in all directions as if to touch every corner of the water. It cocooned her. It filled her. And all she could do was turn it to ice around her.

Amaya knew she was going to die here, in this pond. Even when she was numb and frantic and still so young, she knew.

It was impossibly deep. Amaya had known this pond her entire life – the circumference, when it would freeze each year, the way the willow tree on its shore cast wisping shadows across its surface. But she’d never known how deep it was. Or how easily its icy surface could shatter. Her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled Amaya deeper into the pond,

down,

.

_down,

.
.

_down.

.
.
.

Some part of her, the part that was no longer a child but frozen all the same, knew what would come next: a flurry of hands and shouts as her body was wrenched from the water — frigid air stabbing into her lungs like welcome knives — the warmth of her mother’s arms. But when Amaya looked up, it wasn’t the guards or attendants, or even her mother that she saw beyond the water.

It was her father.

The stark canvas of his face, all silver and rippling shadow, glared down at her like the moon itself. The pond’s surface shattered like glass as King Jericho reached down and grabbed Amaya by the throat. Thick, calloused fingers squeezed, and suddenly it didn’t matter if she was surrounded by water or ice or air, because she’d never breathe again. He was fury. He was frost. He was all the hate Amaya had ever known in her short life.

Suddenly desperate to survive, Amaya opened her mouth and screamed beneath the water. A flurry of bubbles escaped her as she flailed. Little hands clawed uselessly at her father. Tears escaped her only to mix with the pond, unseen. She kicked and scratched, but Jericho was too much — he’d always been too much for her to ever stand against.

Amaya thrashed with clumsy limbs. Her vision tunnelled. Midnight creeped around the edges of her world until all that was left was her father’s rage. The grip around her throat tightened as she fought, nails digging into the soft flesh. Then the hand pulled.

Forced through the surface of the water, Amaya was a woman again. Frigid air stabbed into her skin like wicked knives. Her limbs, heavy with ice, tried to find some purchase, a way to steady herself as she dangled from the iron grip around her throat. She scratched and writhed, eyes squeezed shut against cruel reality, like she could hold off inevitability if she simply refused to see it.

Some part of her, the part that was still a child but fighting all the same, knew what would come next: her final, desperate gasps – her body growing limp – the embrace of the water below. All that had ever mattered was Jericho and his will. And he had decided long ago that Amaya was nothing.

But when Amaya opened her eyes, it wasn’t her father that she saw.

It was Sir Abel.

Not as she’d seen him all her life, a quiet specter haunting her as she’d moved through the palace. No, this was Abel as she’d last seen him – visceral and alive and dying.

His face was a bloody, half-formed mask of sundered flesh and flashing bone. The skin had been ripped away starting from his cheekbones, revealing thin, flayed layers of fat and muscle. His eyes – his eyes, filled with so much hate and rage they froze Amaya’s blood – were crimson with burst blood vessels. The bottom lid of one of them had been completely ripped away with the rest of his skin, revealing the curve of his eyeball in its socket. Tattered cords of muscle and pulsing veins draped down his face until there was nothing but stark, stained bone, dripping with blood. Amaya watched him gnash his yellow teeth, the naked muscles of his jaw flexing, the flash of a bloody tongue in the space that should’ve been covered by his cheek. Blood poured down his neck, shredded flaps of skin hanging over his saturated armor.

Behind him lay a body, collapsed in the snow. It was turned away from her – but Amaya knew that slender hand, covered in blood. She knew that hair, silver and shining like the moon.

Terror wrapped itself around Amaya’s lungs and tightened. She tried to scream, but there was no air in her lungs. There was only the sound of her stuttering heart. It begged, no, no, no, no, no because Amaya couldn’t lose her, she couldn’t –

Sir Abel’s nails cut into the skin of Amaya’s neck with how tightly he gripped her. She barely registered the pain. It was hard to notice anything beyond the fear and ice. Desperation forced her to move, though. Her hands clawed at his wrist as she tried to kick, but it was no use. The ice in her blood was turning to lead as her vision faded in and out. All the while Sir Abel watched her with bloody, accusing eyes.

Her pulse slowed.

Her fingers slipped away from his arm to fall limply to her sides.

And when she finally slipped away, Sir Abel’s skin under her nails, her mother’s blood in her veins, her father’s hate dictating the story of her life…

She wondered how much Amaya there’d ever been at all.

The water welcomed her back with a crushing embrace. It wrapped around her body, filling her lungs as her lips parted. But it wasn’t the frigid pond that she’d fallen into… salt met her tongue and drifted over her skin to hide the tracks of her tears. A gentle current drifted through her hair, lifting it away from her face. The frost that had clung to her so stubbornly had no choice but to melt.

When Amaya finally opened her eyes, ice met the green sea. There was no coldness, no fight, just… patience. Sadness. A vastness and depth that would swallow Amaya up, if she let it. The water offered itself to her, if only she was brave enough to welcome it.

For the first time in her life, Amaya felt weightless. Held by the water, she let herself float. And when she looked up she saw the moon suspended in the sky, dark and clear. Its gentle light whispered to her as the ocean pressed warmth back into her skin.

There was no ice in her veins.

No fear.

She closed her eyes and melted into the water’s embrace. She did not feel brave. Or strong. Or Wise. But perhaps, just for this moment, that wasn’t required of her. She could simply be.

Her garments, heavy with their drink, pulled Amaya deeper into the ocean,

down,

.

_down,

.
.

_down.

.
.
.

---

_{Location: The Royal Cabin}

---

---

Reality trickled back to Amaya, drop by drop. A familiar cologne wrapped around her like an embrace, even as she winced against the pain and exhaustion that still seeped through her like melted snow. And when her eyes finally fluttered open and her vision focused enough for her to realize who she was seeing…

Ice met the sea.

She breathed out a single word.

“Flynn…”

It was the first time she’d ever called him by his name.

---

_{Interactions: Flynn Astaros @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

---

---

Elio’s smile widened as she leaned in, her eyes bright with challenge. Her words were sharp, even as she played the game with him, measured the silence, charged the air. He watched the way the firelight danced in her eyes like mischief.

“Maybe what helps you helps me.” His voice was lower, as molten as his gaze. He watched the way her fine scarf rippled under her touch, soft and bright. Her delicate fingers – with just a hint of dirt on them – captured his attention again.

When she finally reached forward, those fingers curling around the bottle just below his own, he locked eyes with her again. His muscles tensed ever so slightly in anticipation. His smile revealed a sharp canine tooth, as his eyebrow raised. His grip tightened against the neck of the bottle, his finger brushing hers for a moment. Her words were a liquor all their own, and Elio drank them in. Her soft voice, her focused gaze… he leaned forward, tugging the bottle – and her hand with it – ever closer to his body.

But when she pulled back, bottle in hand, he offered no resistance. The ozone in the air snapped away as she sat back in her seat, breaking their connection. Bold thing, she didn’t even flinch as she took a swig from bottle.

Elio dropped back into his chair and laughed. It was warm and amused, a departure from all his sly smiles and weighted looks. When he looked back at the woman across the table, it was to reevaluate.

He hadn’t missed the way she’d clammed up around the innkeep – or how she seemed to be actively fortifying her nerves right now, even as she looked at him with a challenge in her gaze, those full lips still glistening with alcohol. Her grip was tight around the bottle. He thought of that dirt under her nails again. He wondered if she had callouses, too.

Well done.

Movement over her shoulder caught Elio’s eye. He glanced up. That woman from before, the dancer, had found a table. All done with her bard, it seemed. The man in question had returned a good deal earlier, striking up the music once again. And now the dancer was sat all alone, a melancholic look on her face. Tryst hadn’t gone as she’d hoped, then? He watched her force a smile on her face in time for the innkeep to slither to her table. His view was cut off, though when the door opened and a familiar figure all but stomped into the building – Aliseth. Curiosity bloomed in Elio’s chest like a stain on a fresh sheet. He was in a mood. And weren’t all the guards on duty?

Elio watched Aliseth shove his way through the rowdy tavern crowd. Then he was out of sight.

He refocused on the woman in front of him. Smile never faltering, he slipped back into their game like he’d never left.

“Once again, you mistake me. When did I say pride was a fault?” He took a moment to look away from her again, as though he were weighing something in his mind. “As long as you’ve got something worthy of that pride,” he amended. Elio put his hand on the table, fingers splayed wide as he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“A skill.”

He took a languid step, fingers dragging along the worn grain of the wood.

“A trade.”

Moving along the table, he watched as the firelight wove gold into her fiery hair. He watched the light ripple over her fine scarf. But most of all, he watched her eyes – how the shifting colors darkened as his shadow moved over her, blocking the lanterns.

“A claim.”

He’d walked all the way to her side of the table now, standing so he was nearly behind her. The hand that he’d been dragging along the table continued its path to the bottle. Calluses scratched over the back of her palm, over her slender fingers, as his hand warmed the space above hers. His fingers curled around the bottle, now stolen twice over.

“You got anything like that? Aside from a talent for assumption and a pretty smile?” Elio bet he’d still be able to taste the alcohol on her lips.

He leaned down, his chest to her back. He didn’t touch her – not there, at least – but it was still close enough to feel the warmth coming off of her. When his head was level with hers, he spoke.

“You ever need a new pedestal to perch yourself on, ask for the stonemason.” Elio’s voice was low and molten, like flickering embers. He moved just a bit closer, close enough to smell the fresh scent of her shampoo. He wondered if that was heat crawling up her neck, or just the dim glow of the fire. His breath pushed at strands of her hair. He smirked and murmured into her ear, “I promise my pride is earned.”

Elio lifted the drink from the table and took one last pull before placing it back in front of her. He savored the burn as it went down. Then he straightened to his full height.

“Enjoy your drink,” he said, mirth in his voice. He gave her one last look.

Then Elio turned and made his way through the tavern crowd.

There wasn’t much weaving he had to do. Elio was large enough, and moved with enough authority that most automatically made space for him. Or perhaps he just claimed the space for himself. Either way, the result was the same – Elio stepped through the crowd that parted and reformed around him as he made his way towards the bar. His eyes honed in on the one he’d been searching for: Aliseth, dropped on a barstool, drinking.

Well, Elio decided, now he had to know what this was about.

Armando was in the stool next to him (why was this guy fucking everywhere) speaking with yet another unfortunate woman. Elio caught his eye and leveled him with a look. The conversation stopped immediately and the spineless fop made himself scarce before Elio was even within a meter of him.

Elio dropped into the newly vacated seat next to Aliseth.

“Aliseth Kain, drinking on the job.” He sounded almost scandalized. “Dunno whether to be proud or disappointed. Wearing you down was half the fun.” He cast a look over to the guard, taking in his stormy demeanor and the less than sparkling state of his uniform.

“Y’look like shit.”

---

_{Interactions: Thalia Evercrest @Qia, Aliseth Kain @Dark Light
Mentions: Nyla Zafira @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: The Sun Temple}

---

---

Tia shrank back from Dyna’s hard look – she knew this look. It wasn’t often that she saw it, but it stabbed at her with a familiar hurt all the same. Dyna, cold and sharp as steel, walled herself off where Tia couldn’t reach her so that she could do what needed to be done. But there was something different to it this time. The edge in her gaze seemed a little harsher. The grip on Tia’s hand seemed more clinical. Something had changed.

Well, Tia supposed, many things had changed.

She could only step to the side and watch as Dyna arrested Gadez. Staff still planted on the ground, Tia moved closer to it, her other hand curling around the wooden haft. It wasn’t as if she could hide behind it – nor could it anchor her, with how carefully she had to hold it to keep from going off balance. But Tia moved around it like it had its own gravity.

Dyna announced her orders. Her armor clanked and rubbed against cloth as she moved. The fire crackled in the hearth. And throughout it all, Gadez was silent.

Then his eyes, pale as the moon and burning as the sun, opened. They found Tia. Her hands tightened around the smooth, worn grain of the weapon’s haft. A glance. A nod. A wink. And then Dyna and Gadez were gone. It seemed as though they’d taken all the air with them.

Tia was frozen in the center of the room, clinging to the staff. The little bowl of soup still rested atop her bedside table.

Her back to the door, Tia gave herself another breath to not be real.

_{She was a blinding moment in the quiet of eternity.}

Then she turned, staff still held in place, to face the others at her broken door: Ranni with her nervous confusion, the hulking man with the unfamiliar accent, and Céline – Céline.

Tia shrank back into her room, as though another inch or two of distance would be enough to protect Céline from her roiling emotions. The doctor wasn’t safe here, not while Tia’s own mind threatened to drown her. Tia tried to muffle her nerves. Meeting Rani’s eyes, she fixed a weak smile on her face. She knew it was unconvincing. She knew the younger woman would have worries and questions. Tia held her gaze, her smile tightening as she willed her sister to understand – It’s alright. Later.

Her eyes moved past her sister to look to Céline deeper in the temple. She looked back to Ranni and repeated the gesture.

Tia knew Ranni’s emotions were likely a jumble just as hers were. But she seemed to be holding it together better than Tia was at the moment, and Tia knew that if she got much closer to the doctor, her emotions would threaten to overwhelm her. It had been enough of a struggle to protect Céline from Tia’s latent anxiety in the week they’d spent together in the temple with Gadez. Their first meeting flashed in Tia’s mind – Céline, delirious and ill after absorbing the wayward turmoil of another person.

Between the two of them, Tia hoped that Ranni was the safer option to see to whatever the doctor needed. They’d been talking together just a moment ago, afterall.

Which just left the unkempt giant taking up the full width of the hallway. Both hands still holding the staff to keep it balanced, Tia gave a small, hesitant bow in greeting.

---

_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Dyna and Ranni Soleil @Queen Arya, Céline Moreau, Ivor the Wild @SkeankySnack}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

---

---

Elio smirked as he looked over at the woman – all pouting and puffed up like a displeased little bird. But her eyes stayed trained on him.

“You mistake me for a man of generous spirit,” he said lightly. He tilted the bottle so it balanced against the table along its bottom rim, spinning it lazily. The firelight danced through the amber glass, casting its glow against the wood. It matched the flickering light in his eyes. His posture never changed from the unbothered slouch. “Unfortunately I never had the chance to develop such benevolence. Too baseborn, y’see.”

Not like her.

Elio finally let his eyes drift over her fully. Her vibrant hair, the fine embroidery of her scarf, her expensive coat… she’d walked the short distance from the stairs to the table like she’d had a book placed upon her head. She looked at him now with confidence, if a bit of wariness (and interest, if he was feeling cocky (he was)). Everything about her screamed upper class (though, they didn’t do much screaming up there, did they? Too prim and proper to do much more than tut or trill. But Elio was willing to help the little bird find her voice, if she’d like).

But there – her hands. They were slim, delicate things, sitting atop her crossed arms. Thin lines of dirt sat beneath her nails, separating pink from white.

Elio met her gaze again, that amused, unbothered smile still on his face.

“Better to be selfish when you’ve got to work for what you have.” He wondered what would come first, her in his bed or a drink in his face. He really should order her one, he thought, just to make it more interesting. “I saw an opportunity, is all.”

Elio finally shifted in his seat, leaning forward. His muscles worked slow and easy beneath his shirt, pushing him closer to this highborn woman as he held her gaze. Elbows propped on the table, bottle held loosely in his workman’s hands, the corner of his mouth quirked up as his smile widened. The chaos of the bar seemed to dull to a hum as his attention narrowed to this woman and the way the firelight stained sunset across her features. Elio’s voice was low and conspiratorial as he murmured –

“I just can’t stand the prick who tried to sit here.”

Mirth danced in his eyes as he watched her. Then he leaned back to that familiar slouch, tipping his drink back into his mouth again.

Someone new slithered up to their table. Elio finally looked away from the woman to see the newly serpentine innkeeper greeting them, alcohol thick in the air around her. He raised an eyebrow. The tail was new, but Elio could at least recognize this Dawnhaven fixture, even if she didn’t know him. Had he really been so unremarkable in these last two months? There wasn’t a barkeep in the capital that didn’t know him on sight alone. A fair few had banned him.

Had he lost his touch? He’d simply have to do a better job making an impression.

He met her gaze with a smile as she eyed him (ha) and offered her greetings. Elio smiled as he raised his pilfered bottle up to the innkeep — not that she knew how he’d gotten it.

“I’m well familiar with your bar,” he said, voice smooth. He’d cut and laid the stone himself. He’d laid enough patrons out and laid the rest up. “Wonderful selection you have.”

And then she was gone again, and once again it was just the two at the table. Elio took another slow drink from his bottle, feeling the heat finally start to buzz under his skin. He watched the crowd.

“Say I did have a cure for whatever it is that ‘plagues’ you,” he said, still watching the other patrons. He tilted his head towards her, casting her a glance. Elio raised the bottle slightly towards her in offering – though she’d have to reach towards him to grab it.

“Proud thing like you… would you even take it?”

---

_{Interactions: Thalia Evercrest @Qia, Syraeia Leela @PrinceAlexus}