c3p-0h

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Eye of the Beholder}

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Elio savored the crisp winter air on his skin as he leaned against the pine tree and looked up at the moon. His partner — for the final time, he reminded himself — had long since scurried off to make herself presentable again. But Elio wasn’t quite ready to leave this afterglow yet.

Bathed in silver moonlight, he let out a long, slow breath. He hadn’t stopped smiling — not just from the sex, though that’d been enjoyable enough. It wasn’t just the knowledge that had his mood soaring either, though that was a delicious turn of events. Prince Flynn Astaros of Aurelia, founder of Dawnhaven, golden son of prophecy, and royal pain in his ass had a paramour. And a blight-born one at that. He wondered if his wife knew. Elio snorted to himself.

No, Elio was savoring the potential that filled him. That week indoors really had been torture. Elio was a man of action. He could feel it though — the whole town seemed to vibrate with energy, like the charged stillness right before a storm. The air promised an eruption. He didn’t know when, or how, but he could feel it building, and soon enough there would be a glorious storm to put himself in the middle of. Maybe he’d even have a hand in causing it.

Oh, what fun he would have. It really was good to be back.

When Elio finally reentered the tavern, he found it raucous and alive with music. His grin widened as he drank in the energy. Instruments were suspended in the air with enchanting golden light and patrons clapped along with drunk smiles and flailing dance moves. Elio scanned the crowd as he walked along the perimeter towards the bar. He wondered idly if this Nyla was still here. She’d sounded rather heartbroken by the end of the show outside. Perhaps she’d already hidden herself away to lick her wounds.

Perhaps she’d prefer someone else to lick them for her.

Elio trailed his eyes over the different blight-born women, as though he’d be able to tell which one he’d heard based on their face alone. But he paused though, when someone else caught his eye.

There, dancing in the middle of the crowd, was a woman. He could only glimpse her through the bodies, like catching strands of sunlight through a forest canopy. But how she shined. She danced with fluid, imprecise movements, all energy and joy as she spun. Her full lips parted in a laugh as she locked eyes with her partner — the blight-born musician, likely responsible for the enchanted instruments. The woman’s tanned skin, her dark, curling hair, her vibrant clothes — an Aurelian nomad, he realized. Or at least a descendant. His father’s line had supposedly come from one of the wandering nomad tribes, before settling in one place. But then, he supposed his father had taken to travel too, when he’d decided to leave Aurelia. And now here was Elio, miles from home himself. Not by choice, of course — the bitter pang of indignation shot through him at having been sent away. But still. He had traveled far to Dawnhaven. Just like her.

He watched the dancing woman through the crowd. Her bright eyes twinkled like stars. And for a moment, Elio was enraptured. There was nothing quite like watching someone in love with what they could do.

And then the song came to an end. The crowd soan to messy conclusions with their dances, erupting into laughter and applause. But the woman — she held the bard’s gaze with a soft smile and leaned in to whisper something. Elio watched her hand curl around his, tugging slightly towards the back door of the tavern.

He couldn’t help the soft huff of laughter. It seemed everyone was having the same idea today.

Finally allowing himself to move from his spot at the edge of the bar, Elio continued his path. The crowd was still distracted, still chattering and laughing as they came down from the high of the music.

So no one noticed him casually reach behind the bar as he walked, grabbing the first bottle his hand touched.

Elio lifted the bottle to his lips, biting down on the cork with his canines and yanking it out with a hollow pop. He spat the cork out towards the edge of the room and took a hearty swig. The burn and swirl of the alcohol filled him as he strode through the room — and his eyes caught the firelight glow of orange hair.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking around the tavern like she was lost. Slight, almost doll-like, she seemed pure and demure in a way that made him want to corrupt. And he’d always had a weakness for redheads.

She straightened her little scarf and marched into the tavern like she was going into battle. Elio raised an amused eyebrow. He could approach her. He was sated for now, and he didn’t specifically need to find a new partner immediately. And it wasn’t like it would be difficult to find one when the time came (say what you would about Astaros (and he did) but for some reason there was no shortage of beautiful, adventurous women in Dawnhaven). But a little flirting could be fun. And maybe he’d want to go after this one later. He could lay a foundation, as it were.

He watched the redhead move towards an empty table and perch herself delicately on a seat. Then a man started to approach her. Archibald… Augie… Elio didn’t know his damn name. All he knew was the man was annoying and had complained incessantly about the details of the stone wall he’d commissioned around his home.

And just like that, Elio’s decision was made (though, had it ever really been in question what he would decide?).

Elio strode towards the table just as the other man started to open his mouth and pull out the chair opposite the redhead. Elio casually reached up to grab the back of his collar and yanked. The chairlegs grunted on the floor as Anatole, or whoever, stumbled backwards with a yelp. Elio didn’t even slow his pace as he walked past him and dropped himself into the chair. He slouched into it, an arm over the chair back, the bottle held loosely in two fingers, his legs wide and feet planted on the floor. Elio looked up at the man as he tried to right himself. Face reddening, he opened his mouth, like he’d actually have a response to Elio. The mason just raised an eyebrow, a glint in his eye.

Go on then, start something.

The man paused as Elio held his gaze. Then something seemed to wither in him. He didn’t even look at the redhead as he turned and marched away. Elio huffed, only slightly disappointed. Wouldn’t’ve been any real fun anyway.

Taking another sip of his drink, Elio took a moment to settle into his new chair, to take in the crowd from this new angle. The he glanced over at woman, like it was the first time he was taking her into account.

“You didn’t want him sitting here,” he said, the low thrum of his voice drifting over the table. He didn’t bother looking her over. Instead he just held those lovely hazel eyes with his. Elio brought the lip of the bottle to his mouth, savoring the burn of alcohol that spilled down his throat – something spiced, and fragrant, and far too pretty for a dump like this. He swallowed. Then he placed the bottle on the table and looked back out towards the crowd. “Spits when he talks. And he talks.” Arnold (fuck it, sure) was across the tavern already, trying his luck with some other woman. Poor thing was already flinching away from him. The corner of Elio’s mouth twitched up and threw another look to the woman across the table. “Would’ve had you fleeing back upstairs and you'd've missed all the fun.”

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_{Interactions: Thalia Evercrest @Qia
Mentions: Nyla Zafira @The Muse, Aldrick Corveaux@SpicyMeatball}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Tavern}

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After a week of being cooped inside, Elio Azkona had grown painfully, deliriously, bored. He intended to make this all of Dawnhaven’s problem. He was starting off slow, though. Measured. Moderated. The woman he currently had pinned against a tree wasn’t even married.

They were hidden in darkness, but for the light of the moon filtering through the pines that towered above them. Muffled sounds echoed from around the tree – the rowdiness of the tavern, the chattering voices of half the town gathered for some asinine celebration. Though his immediate instinct had been to buck at the summons that’d been placed on his door this morning, Elio had still been drawn towards the promise of people – of action.

He had his hand cupped around the back of the woman’s head, his fingers tangling her hair. His other hand had slipped into her coat, her buttons long undone. His arm curled around her waist, his hand flat against her back with only the thin fabric of her dress separating them. She clung to him as they kissed, her hands clawing at his back through his shirt. Elio hadn’t bothered with a coat – his blood had always run a little hotter than the average Lunarian’s. His hand in her hair tightened to a fist and he pulled down, forcing her to lift her chin. He drank in all her little sounds as he moved from her lips and down her neck.

This wasn’t the first time they’d done this. No, Elio and this particular little morsel were getting familiar enough that he knew exactly when she was going to gasp and what it would sound like when he flexed his arm, pulling her tighter against him. He still couldn’t remember her name, though. Elio doubted she knew his – he hoped she didn’t know his. If she could still focus enough to remember his name, then he wasn’t doing a good enough job. But of course, maybe this was a losing battle – Elio was a difficult man to forget.

She was getting a bit attached, though. When they’d spotted each other from across the tavern, she’d lit up like she’d been searching for him. He’d met her smile with a wicked grin of his own, watching the way the firelight spun gold through her auburn hair. She’d slipped through the crowd towards the backdoor, and Elio had taken a swig of his drink. But he stayed where he was sat. He watched the crowd. This would likely have to be the last time with her, he decided. Disappointing.

He’d just have to make sure it was worth his while.

When Elio finally exited the tavern’s backdoor, he found her shivering in the snow, pert little nose red and her arms wrapped around herself. He’d barely looked at her as he’d wrapped a large hand around hers and tugged her towards the treeline. And when he’d spun abruptly to press her into the hard bark of the nearest pinetree, she’d gasped and giggled, and melted into him like he was a furnace.

All in all, not a bad way to reenter society.

That is, of course, until they heard the tavern door opening again.

They froze and Elio’s hand slipped out of her hair to cover her mouth. He locked eyes with the nameless woman, the energy between them buzzing like electricity. Her eyes were wide – but then he saw them start to crinkle with mischief. Elio’s lips lifted in a smirk. They stood frozen against each other as whoever had opened the door moved through the snow.

"Why are you here, Nyla?" Elio knew that voice – that irritating voice that belonged to the one person in town who had any real authority over him. Annoyance shot through him reflexively. Maybe they should continue their rendezvous, if only to give the little prick a show.

But something gave Elio pause – he didn’t just know that voice. He knew that tone. He’d heard it enough times from the lips of women, frantic to get him out the door when their husbands came home. Suddenly, Elio wanted nothing more than for the Prince to keep talking.

“I’m sorry, Flynn. I know I shouldn’t be...” Flynn. She called him by his name. She had an enchanting voice, smooth and expressive like velvet – Elio wanted nothing more than to look around the tree that hid them to see this woman who’d managed to make Astaros so panicked. Because whoever she was, she most definitely wasn’t his wife.

Elio’s eyebrow quirked up as he listened. The woman he held was breathing hard, her chest moving against him. Elio pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Slowly, he brought his hand from her lower back up, up, up, to grip around the nape of her neck. The coat strained against them, the added mass of his arm making the fabric tight. His other hand slipped away from her mouth, to trail down the line of her waist. He wondered what it would take to get her to make a sound loud enough for the other couple to hear.

“But, I… We… We can’t—”

Elio wanted to laugh. Yes, he knew that tone, too. He pressed a line of soft kisses down the woman’s face – her temple, her cheek, her jaw. By the time he was back at her neck, the little royal melodrama seemed to be winding down. Elio bit down at the woman’s pulse point, smothering her sharp gasp with his hand returning to her mouth. He smiled into her skin.

“...Each blight-born undergoes an interview..." Blight-born? Well well well… wasn’t that interesting.

It wasn’t long before he heard Astaros’ morose trudging through the snow. Then the door opened, and closed, and the show was truly over.

Elio pulled away from the woman’s neck. He finally let out a low, rumbling laugh as he looked up to the moon shining through the trees, silver and full. This really was too good. The moon seemed brighter, suddenly. The chill that bit at his cheeks was teasing, rather than scolding. And the untouchable Golden Prince had some dirt on him after all. Turning his attention back to the woman, Elio cupped her face in both hands, a thumb moving over the crest of her cheek.

“Oh, you beautiful thing,” he murmured. She looked back up at him, pupils blown wide and a tempting smile curling her lips. Elio captured her mouth in a kiss like he meant to consume her.

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_{Mentions: Flynn Astaros and Nyla Zafira @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Tia slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the bright spots that danced in front of her vision. Even with her eyes closed and her sleeve as a barrier, the light from Dyna’s shield had been a formidable flash. Her arm lowered as Dyna’s commanding voice filled the room. Her heart still hammered in her chest as she tried to reorient herself. Somehow Gadez had ended up in front of her, and once again Tia found herself searching for Dyna’s eyes from behind his back.

Dyna was arresting him. Somewhere in her mind, Tia knew that this was the logical response – he’d spoken of treason so openly, so brazenly, and to a member of the clergy no less. But still, with her frantic swirl of thoughts, Tia was desperate to deescalate.

Gadez was talking now. His voice was unbothered as ever. His weapon landed on the floor with a graceless thud. He was… giving himself up? Her eyes snapped up to his smiling profile, stepping to the side so she wasn’t behind him anymore. His eyes were still closed. The slight tension he held around them was the only indication that he’d been affected by the light at all.

Dyna kicked his weapon away. Tia flinched at the sharp clatter. Her sister met her eyes, as if to confirm once again that she was unharmed. Then she looked down at the staff, and back up to Tia in a silent command. Because there was something Gadez was wrong about: Tia couldn’t overrule Dyna. Not when it came to matters of safety. Dyna might’ve deferred to Tia for most things, but once weapons were drawn, Dyna’s status as a Champion meant she was in charge.

Tia forced herself to leave Gadez’s shadow. With shaking hands she reached down to grasp it. It was longer than she was tall, with a simple wooden shaft and a wicked double edged blade. A metal ball was secured to the other end of the shaft, for balance presumably. The wood was smooth and worn where Tia wrapped her hands around it — and unmoving. Tia blinked, before hefting with more force. It was heavier than she’d expected. Memories of Gadez practicing with it swam through her mind, how fluid he’d seemed, like this mass of wood and cold metal had been an extension of him. It felt unwieldy in Tia’s hands, like one wrong move would send her toppling.

Slowly, carefully, she walked in an arc through the room to stand by Dyna’s side, facing Gadez. He was smiling still. How was he smiling? If Dyna had heard enough to arrest him… the punishment would be sharp. Panic was the blood running through Tia’s veins. Steadying the ball end of the weapon on the ground, she placed her free hand softly on Dyna’s arm. Tia leaned in, angling her chin up to whisper voicelessly in her ear. It was nothing but enunciated air, her throat still raw and burning.

‘He’s confused.’ That had to be it, right? The things he’d claimed about the blight, Aelios, her…

His face flashed in her mind — how softly he’d looked at her. How plainly he’d declared that he wasn’t a danger to her, like it was as true as the ticking of the clock.

‘He’s… unwell.’ Tia’s grip tightened on Dyna’s arm as she pulled back. She tried to catch the Champion’s gaze, to silently ask for understanding.

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Doubt crept into her mind as Gadez reached around her to close the door fully, and invited her to sit on her own bed. All the while, his gaze was still gossamer soft as he wrapped her in his words. She was safe with him – but his lack of boundaries had always been a bit disorienting. He was forward in ways that mostly seemed harmless, but Tia now found herself wondering if she should’ve been firmer with him. If perhaps… he misunderstood their relationship.

But he met her eyes with that smile that was so tender – like she was something to be protected and nurtured. It sent her heart rate skipping.

Tia hesitated, her back to the closed door, her eyes watching him as he moved about her room like it was his own. She didn’t know what to do – so she defaulted to following orders, as always. Tia walked to her bed and perched herself on the edge of the mattress, too nervous to relax into it. To her immense relief, he did not join her.

Still, there was that feeling of standing at a precipice – of waiting for something to push her over the edge so she could finally stop this balancing act and welcome whatever shattering impact was awaiting her. He held a spoonful of soup out to her, an act both intimate and infantilizing. But Tia was too off-kilter to protest. Her hand raised to grab the handle of the spoon, her fingers brushing his. She tried to focus on the flavor of the broth, the tenderness of the meat and vegetables, so she wouldn’t have to think about how very warm she suddenly felt. Then he released the spoon and turned away, and it was like she could breathe again. Tia swallowed the soup down. The ceramic bowl seeped heat into her palm.

And then he began to talk.

And talk.

Tia could only sit on her bed, trapped by his words that seemed to wrap around her like binding cloth. They layered themselves over her, tight and heavy, constricting her. The world seemed to muffle. Her breathing quickened. Tia’s mind spun in a frantic buzz of confusion with each bold new claim.

Her scar was evidence of the Goddesses’ existence.

She’d been sent to Dawnhaven so the Arch Priest could be rid of her.

The blight was divine.

She housed the soul of Aelios.

She was a Seer.

The blizzard had been an attack on her rather than an act of nature.

He was the bastard son of King Auric.

The blight needed to persist.

He wanted to depose the Aurelian King.

Tia’s heart stopped. What he was saying… nevermind the outlandish nature of some of his claims, he was suggesting treason. Tia could barely make sense of the flood of information he’d dropped at her feet like a cat with a rat carcass.

But most perplexing of all… he swore to protect her. This was the second time today that a man had looked her in the eye and declared that she was someone who needed protection – that she was worth protection. And again, the same question echoed in her mind: protection from whom?

Tia stared up at Gadez – Halcyon – with wide, helpless eyes. She suddenly felt that she didn’t know him at all. Flashes of their week together darted through her mind. The stories he’d told her. The way he’d enjoyed startling her as she read, only to offer her a cheeky smile and a steaming cup of tea. How just this morning, he’d placed a hand against her cheek with a touch so gentle and warm it might’ve been an embrace.

He was bowing to her, still looking at her with those ghostly eyes. Only the crackling of the fire filled the space around them. His request hung in the air – because this had all been a request, hadn’t it? A declaration of his intentions, so that she might give him an answer he longed to hear.

Her heart beat in her chest like a frantic bird struggling in a too small cage.

Moving was like forcing herself back to life. She placed the soup bowl and spoon, barely touched, onto the bedside table. The movement was too jerky. Soup splashed over the side, dripping on her hand and the wood. But Tia didn’t notice. She was on her feet and stepping towards the man, whoever he was. She closed the distance with a desperate hand reaching out to touch his arm. Tia didn’t understand what was happening, what had led them to this point, but she needed to –

The door to Tia’s room slammed open, the impact like a crack of thunder. Her hand snapped away from him, to fist in front of her chest. Tia jumped, spinning to look. A figure stood in the doorframe, all shining armor and eyes that burned with blue fire. Tia met Dyna’s gaze, confusion and panic still clear on her face.

But this wasn’t her little sister – this was her Champion. And apparently she had decided it was time to get to work.

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Tia peered around Gadez’s form at the sound of Dyna’s voice, her blunt tone distinguishing her from her sister. Where was Ranni? Was she alright? Had Dyna seen that awful vision, too? With the narrow hallway so crowded, Tia couldn’t see into the temple’s body.

She paused though, when she heard the soft tone of Gadez’s voice. Her eyes flicked back up to him. He had turned his head to look over his shoulder at Dyna, addressing her with a voice that was… almost subdued. Tia blinked up at him. Gadez was a man who usually seemed to thrum with latent energy, eager to spring to life and patient enough to capture the perfect moment. He was many things — brazen, mischievous, oddly considerate… but Tia had never before seen him so muffled. He turned back to face her, and Tia’s lips parted when she saw something completely foreign in his pale eyes:

Hesitation.

It was a flicker. Then it was gone, so quickly it might’ve just been the reflection of Tia’s own nerves staring back at her. He stepped closer, with a murmuring voice and a proffered… soup container?

Tia couldn’t help herself. Her lips quirked into a bemused smile as she looked at it. Something softened in her, the tensions of the day growing hazy.

Oddly considerate, indeed.

She met his gaze again. She couldn’t thank him with the state of her voice, but she gave a warm smile. It faltered when he sought entrance to her room. This was the second man in less than an hour. The nuns she grew up with would’ve been positively scandalized. The Prince requesting privacy to talk with her (to interrogate her, she corrected with no small amount of shame) was one thing. But Gadez… Well, it wasn’t as if he’d never been in her room. And if he intended to be ungentlemanly, he’d already had plenty of opportunity when they’d been snowed in for a week. And… he’d brought her soup.

But he spoke of answers. Of Aelios. Answers to what? She searched his eyes as her mind spun.

Did… did he somehow know about her visions?

Her heartbeat seemed louder in her ears. Tia hesitated for another moment. Then she stepped to the side, her arm raised slightly to invite him in. There wasn’t much room to move in the hallway — Tia pressed herself against the wall to try and give him room as his larger frame crossed the threshold of her room.

She didn’t follow him in, though. Tia met Dyna’s eye, finally unobstructed. She turned back to Gadez, holding up a hand to signal him to wait. Then she moved to her sister. Curling a hand around one of Dyna’s, Tia looked around her shoulder to try and spot Ranni. More voices echoed through the air, weaving through the crackle of Aelios’ flame. There was Ranni’s, and the other… Tia realized with a start that she recognized that voice, too.

Dr. Céline stood with Ranni, along with an absolute mountain of a man. Tia took a moment to observe them. Despite the vision she’d had, Ranni didn’t seem distressed. But Tia knew that didn’t mean much — as priestesses they’d been trained to mask their own troubles when performing their duties. Tia had just never been very good at it. That Dr. Céline was speaking with her though…

She’d been Tia’s other guest during the storm. She was kind and intelligent, but there had been a few near-misses with her empathic abilities. If Ranni was really experiencing something, the doctor probably wouldn’t have been upright. Had the vision not been from Ranni? Tia’s eyebrows drew together as she watched them.

Finally deciding that at least Ranni wasn’t in any immediate danger, Tia looked back to Dyna.

Fierce, stalwart Dyna. Ever the protector, making herself responsible for their safety. Tia knew it was ingrained in her — the vigilance, the need to protect the few people she still had. Tia couldn’t imagine what it’d been like to witness her twin go into the blight — to not have gone with her. Her heart clenched as she looked up at the Champion. Dyna was taller than her. Stronger. Technically in charge of her safety. But Tia was still older. It was still her responsibility to care for the twins.

Tia’s hand tightened around hers. With her other hand, she reached up to briefly touch Dyna’s cheek and give her a smile that she hoped was comforting. Tia glanced back over her shoulder to see Gadez in the flickering firelight of her room. She turned to look at Ranni, the picture of calm as she spoke with Dr. Céline and her companion.

Looking back up at Dyna, she slowly mouthed the words, ‘Stay with Ranni.’

Tia wasn’t in any danger with Gadez. But if that vision had come from Ranni, Tia didn’t want her alone. She didn’t want her to feel alone.

‘Be out soon.’

Tia wasn’t certain that was a promise she could keep. Gadez was unpredictable at the best of times. But something about his soft voice, his hesitation… Tia felt on the precipice of something. Whatever it was he had to discuss with her, something told her it wouldn’t be a quick conversation. But she tried to give Dyna a reassuring smile, and another quick squeeze of her hand.

Then she stepped away and walked back into her room. Tia pulled the door shut behind her, leaving it ajar. Perhaps those old nuns had left an impression on her, after all. Hands clasped behind her back, Tia looked back to Gadez. The fire warmed the room, stray embers glowing like fireflies.

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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Tia sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the book in her lap with unseeing eyes. She felt… exhausted. Bone tired in a way that sleep couldn’t cure. Echoes of the Prince’s voice seemed to reverberate around the room. His cutting accusations. His warnings. His cold, detached pronouncements.

The fire he’d lit still crackled in the hearth.

Tia felt the weight of every secret she was still keeping press down on her. All the words she didn’t stay were thick in her burning throat. A question circled her mind again and again: why her?

The Prince, the Queen, the Arch Priest, Aelios... Why make demands of her? What could she possibly offer them? Surely they all would’ve had more qualified, or capable, or worthy candidates to see their wills fulfilled. Tia had her talents, it was true… but none seemed adequate to fill the many roles that were now being draped over her shoulders like heavy cloaks, each one only adding to the suffocating weight until she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe–

And then her body was not her own. She was dying, but it was not her death. A voice that was not hers whispered anguished words that broke her heart. She knew that voice.

Ranni.

The vision was much as it’d been before – the familiar presence of her pupil, commanding every ounce of her attention. And again, there was no blistering heat, no stalking predator that watched her with evaluating eyes.

It’s not a prophecy.

When Tia came back to herself, she knew this with sudden clarity. Whatever the vision was, whatever she’d experienced earlier today outside the temple, they weren’t prophecies. But what were they, then? They’d both centered on Ranni… but she’d never had any propensity for mental magic. Like Tia, she’d been a healer.

A hand reached up to thoughtlessly touch the scars at her throat. The blight. What changes had it forced upon her?

Something warm trailed along the skin of her cheek. Tia reached up to find it was wet – at some point she’d started crying. She sniffled and wiped the tears away.

Hers were not the only troubles in the world. And being inadequate was not excuse enough to shirk her duties. Eyes refocusing, she looked over at the bedside table, her note and two visions still laying atop it. She looked back down at the book that held her two remaining visions – the ones that remained unverified. She needed to look into them, before she could take them to the Prince. How? Tia would… figure that part out. And there was still the matter of the Queen’s letters.

But first… Ranni. Ranni and Dyna were the closest things to family she had left in this world. Having them back in her life was a privilege Tia didn’t think she’d ever be granted again. And now that they were here… it was Tia’s responsibility to take care of them.

And judging by the vision she’d just had, Ranni was somewhere dark. Tia’s heart clenched at the thought of her pupil’s suffering. Forcing herself up, she quickly put the papers and the book back in the table drawer – messier than she normally kept it, and not carefully folded away, but the drawer shut all the same. She gave one last swipe at her cheeks to make sure she wasn’t crying anymore. It wouldn’t do for them to see her in a state – not when she was the one who should’ve been looking after them. Her throat still burned after her coughing fit. She likely wouldn’t manage any words for some time. But the twins knew her better than anyone else in Dawnhaven. She trusted they’d find ways to understand each other.

Allowing herself one last moment in the dim solitude of her room, Tia readied herself. Then she opened the door –

To find Gadez filling the hallway, hand raised as if to knock, and frame blocking out the flickering light of Aelios’ flame.

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel
Mention: Ranni and Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Collab between Amaya @c3p-0h and Elara @Qia
Location: Elara’s Home}

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Amaya staggered through the door of Elara’s home, gasping at the warmth that enveloped her. It wasn’t nearly enough, but the shift was almost painful – from icy numbness to subtle heat. She barely registered anything more than the sound of Elara’s voice, her presence at her side, the promise of safety and shelter – even if it might not last.

She was so cold.

The ice had grown along her skin, blooming from the wound on her arm. Her blood had frozen to her skin in crimson fractals where it’d dripped down her wrist, across her palm, along the lengths of her fingers. Her own magic was turning against her. It seeped through the cracks of her shattered control. It’d climbed up the length of her arm now, hidden under the thick sleeve of her coat, and emerging along the delicate skin of her neck.

Amaya was shaking. She couldn’t stop shaking. Her breath escaped her in frantic, shallow puffs, and it was all she could do to keep moving forward. Her other hand had wrapped around her frozen wrist, the difference in skin color startling – one a warm brown, the other muted and ashen beneath the layer of bloody ice.

During their journey the cold had stabbed into her like blades, like teeth, claiming every inch of her, seeping into her blood and bones. Now there was only numbness. It weighed her down, made her body stiff and her mind slow.

Forcing herself onward, Amaya stumbled towards the fireplace. Dying embers glowed amidst ash and coal, pulsing like a heartbeat. She all but collapsed in front of it.

Elara rushed to Amaya's side, her heart twisting at the sight of her friend crumbling before the dying embers. The warmth of the room did little to thaw the frost spreading across Amaya’s skin, its jagged, crystalline edges glinting faintly in the flickering light.

“Amaya,” Elara murmured, her voice trembling as she knelt beside her. Her fingers hovered, unsure, over the icy sheen spreading along Amaya’s wrist. The frost bit against her skin when she finally made contact, a cold so intense it felt like fire. The chill radiated up her arms, numbing her fingertips, but she held firm. “Stay with me. Breathe. Just breathe.”

The oppressive silence pressed heavily around them, broken only by the faint crackle of the embers and Amaya’s shallow, uneven breaths. Elara pressed her other hand to the base of Amaya’s neck, just below where the ice crept upward like invasive vines. The skin was lifeless beneath her touch, a frigid warning of how far this had gone. “You’re freezing,” she whispered, her own breath misting in the air between them. “We have to stop this before it gets worse.”

Shadows stirred at her feet, their dark tendrils mirroring her rising panic. They curled protectively around Amaya, dancing like living things in the faint light. Elara’s gaze flicked to the embers struggling in the hearth.

Amaya felt the loss of Elara’s touch like a physical ache, and fear rose up in her with a sudden ferocity. It cut through the frigid haze.

Don’t leave.

Elara leaned towards the hearth, her breath coaxing the dying fire to spark anew. Her trembling hands worked quickly, gathering brittle pieces of kindling from the nearby stack. The wood snapped like fragile bones between her fingers as she fed it to the fire, urgency bubbling up with every piece she tossed in. “Come on,” she muttered, her words a fervent plea to the reluctant flames, as well as to herself.

Finally, the fire flared in reluctant bursts, its warmth stretching weakly toward them.

“Let me help you.” Her hands, steady despite the tremor in her chest, began to glow faintly as she called on her lunar magic. The light was cool, silvery, and soothing as it pooled at her fingertips. She pressed the light against Amaya’s frozen wrist, channelling the essence of her magic into the ice that encased her skin. “I can stabilize it, but you need to help me. Remember, this is your magic—it’s part of you. You can take control of it, but you need to focus.”

But it didn’t feel like a part of her.

Amaya tried to focus on Elara’s familiar voice, the feel of her hand and her magic wrapping around her frozen wrist. She winced, making a helpless sound. Her magic — her magic? No, this was something else, something that prowled and watched her with a predator’s eyes, waiting for an opportunity to break free of the cage she tried to seal it within. It belonged to her just as much as a blizzard belonged to a hapless town.

And Amaya was so tired. Sleep beckoned at her consciousness, her exhausted body. Why fight to stay awake and struggle against the tide? What had fighting ever gotten her? She wanted to cry at the feeling of helplessness that threatened to drown her, if only she had the energy. She didn’t have any fight left in her — but she had Elara. She had her friend’s voice, gentle and warm. The reminder that she wasn’t alone.

It was long work. Agonizing. But crystal by crystal, with the growing warmth of the fire and Elara’s magic, Amaya felt her ice start to melt. Its slow crawl across her body stilled. Her magic didn’t fight — it calmed. It allowed itself to be coaxed back to sleep, back to quiet stillness. By the end of it all, her iice had become water, soaking into the thick fabric of her coat. A fresh blood stain blossomed on her sleeve, diluted by the water. The blood was thin and translucent where it dripped from her fingertips onto the floor.

Amaya breathed a quiet sigh. Needles stabbed along her skin as circulation began returning. Her hand turned to weakly curl around Elara’s wrist.

“Welcome back,” Elara said softly, her voice a gentle caress. With a tender touch of her free hand, she reached out, her fingertips gliding over Amaya’s chilled skin to brush away the damp, errant strands of hair that clung to her forehead. As she tucked the hair behind the princess’s ear, the shadows that had curled protectively around them began to exhale, receding slowly into the quiet corners of the room like a tide drawn away from the shore. Her gaze lingered now on the blood-soaked sleeve, on the pallor of Amaya’s face. This wasn’t over—not yet. But for now, it felt good to know that they were safe.

For now, they simply had each other.

She reached for the blanket draped over a nearby chair, the coarse wool textured against her fingertips. As she carefully wrapped it around Amaya’s trembling shoulders, the blanket appeared to envelop her friend like a cocoon, her slight form framed by the soft folds. In another world, under very different circumstances, the sight of her, snug and warm within the blanket, might have drawn an amused laugh from her lips….

Instead, Elara found herself adjusting the edges, her fingers grazing Amaya's collarbone and shoulders, lingering there just a heartbeat longer than necessary before her legs compelled her to move. She forced herself to let go, though her hand ached with the absence as she pulled back and shifted, her legs moving stiffly from where she’d knelt too long on the hard wooden floor.

“There,” Elara murmured as she added more kindling to the flickering embers, the dry wood cracking faintly as it caught, sending a warm, golden glow spreading through the room. “You’ll feel warmer soon enough.” She watched Amaya carefully for a moment, noting the faint colour that slowly began to return to her cheeks, though her trembling hadn’t yet stopped. “Just rest for now.”

And all Amaya could do was listen. Already, sleep began claiming her, pulling her in an inescapable hold. She was all heavy limbs and muddled, half-formed thoughts as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Elara…

…Stay…

…I’m sorry…

…Please stay…

The last things she knew were the warmth of Elara’s hearth and the phantom echoes of a voice in her head, promising blood.

Then, darkness.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Collab between Amaya @c3p-0h, Elara @Qia, Valthyr @Fetzen, Vellion @Dark Light}

Part I

---

Amaya’s pulse was quick as she walked arm in arm with the strange, threatening man. Her anger was proving difficult to sustain as the voices grew further and further away, and Amaya felt isolation seep into her with every step. He looked pleased with himself. Amaya kept her expression pleasant in return. All the while she listened to the crunch of boots behind her, assuring her that she was not alone with him.

This had been a foolish decision. Reckless. Dangerous in a way that she was ill-equipped to handle. But what options did she have? Allow the scene to continue at the inn, waiting for it to devolve into chaos? Escape him now, only for him to try again later (whatever it was that he was trying) and catch her off guard? No. This was the correct decision, she tried to tell herself. The crown didn’t second guess itself. It couldn’t afford to.

Amaya forced herself to not look back over her shoulder and verify the presence of the guards. All the while, her magic was restless and twitchy, begging for release.

“All this conversation, and I still don’t have your name,” she said, her voice sweet and light. Her arm was still linked around his, her hand trapped in his own. It forced their bodies close. She would need to get distance from him, she knew, before the guards could move. She just needed to last long enough for the right opportunity.

His eyes were distant, feet moving subconsciously beneath him, gone was his preternatural grace, a slight jerkiness invading his movements.

"Oh yes." He said distractedly a moment later. He turned to face her but his eyes went to the corner to suspiciously eye the guards. "True, we know very little of one another..." Why were people so insistent on following her, was she that rich?

His gaze rested gently on her, flicking between her face and the paths they walked. A warm smile took his lips.

"Rezith. Rezith Branshaw." He offered it without missing a beat. Then he looked to her expectantly.

“Amaya,” she replied, eyes trained on him. She watched for a response, any sort of recognition. He’d been so set on her, so snappish to everyone else in the crowd – why, if not for her station? As subtly as she could, she tested the range of motion of her hand in his grip. The movement could’ve simply been written off as her adjusting for a more comfortable position. How difficult would it be to slip out of his grasp?

She gave her name and a pleasant smile but as Vellion looked into her eyes he saw only walls. Then as if to confirm his fears her hand wriggled. He didn't let it free.

He smiled back, putting little effort into it.

"Amaya, that is a beautiful name and is as familiar yet unknown as your features." he mused.

“What brings you to Dawnhaven, Mister Branshaw? You’re a new arrival, are you not?” His dark eyes were fixed on her again, but not 'seeing her' like before. Thoughts raced frantically behind them.

"Chance and fate." He answered cryptically.

He paused walking bringing everyone to a sudden halt as he turned to look at a bit of non-impressive scenery. As he twisted to gaze over the view his mouth closely passed Amaya's ear. "This might sting a little bit please, give me at least a minute to explain before having me killed." he whispered quickly, short and sharp with a sense of pleading in it. "This is my first time to this town." he added aloud to continue the ruse as he tiredly ran his hand down over his mouth before placing it back on Amaya's arm.

What no one saw was him bite his tongue, or the blood he transferred from his mouth to his hand, or how the blood transformed into a thin small needle, or how that needle was stabbed through Amaya's sleeve and into her flesh.

Vellion didn't move, he just stood there wistfully gazing over the barely impressive scenery, hoping and praying she didn't react and gave him the time he needed. He had to ignore the intense suspense this moment created as all of his focus was on the thin connection bridging between them.

Amaya flinched back from the sudden pain — or she tried to, at least. But his grip was unrelenting. What had he done to her? Heart pounding, Amaya snapped her gaze up to look at him. Her sweet mask fell away until there was only caution and cold indignation.

“Release me,” she commanded. Her voice was low — the only hint that she was at all willing to hear him out, rather than alerting the guards immediately.

There hadn't been enough blood transferred. She wasn't giving him enough time. Her mind was closed off to him. Everything was going wrong. He could feel his end nearing. Oblivion eagerly circled him, reaching in from the edges of his vision. Ready to finally claim him and remove him from this world once and for all. He was caught in a trap of his own making. He had few choices left, like a cornered animal. He could cut his losses and reserve what little strength he had left to fight and flee, or... he could go all in.

"Ok," he murmured in defeat, no longer looking at her. But he did not release instantly. Instead giving one final push. There was nothing delicate or controlled about this. It wasn't a calculated or gentle swap of blood. From the cut on his hand to her arm, he gave one last squeeze and then push, flooding it into her system, it would not be pleasant and it would not be painless... for either of them.

Amaya let out a sharp gasp as pain like fire sliced into her arm, burning, pushing, forcing itself into her system. It flooded down her veins. Her magic was a living thing, with a twitching tail, hungry teeth, and more force than she could ever hope to control. It strained against the confines of her body, restless as Amaya’s focus waned.

The infusion left Vellion feeling lacking and weak. He let go as he stumbled back, temporarily made dizzy but still managing to quickly throw up his hood. Luckily his back was to the others so only Amaya saw his face. The gaunt hollowness to his cheeks, the dark rings under his eyes, one eye completely bloodshot and pale. He concealed his face under his hood as he tilted his head down to look at the ground.

Amaya stumbled back in turn, and she barely heard the shouts and clatter of boots as they rushed towards them. Metal slid against wood and leather as swords glinted in the moonlight. There was that same sensation from before at the inn, the ground turning to swirling waves, shifting beneath her feet. The gently falling snow picked up speed around them, answering Amaya’s rising panic. When she looked down at her arm, she found that her hand had instinctively snapped around it, over a fresh bloodstain marring the fabric.

Vellion didn't move but Amaya heard his voice echoed in her mind. It was but a soft whisper, and despite not being a physical presence, it still sounded tired and weak. "It's done, call off your guards before they see anything they can't unsee. I don't want to hurt anyone. If you want to know what I've just done to you... relax and listen."

It seemed to reverberate from her very blood, echoing in a way that made the rest of the world less solid. Her reality seemed… looser. Lighter. Amaya tried to force herself to focus – he’d done something to her. Injected her with something she didn’t know the ramifications of. Amaya grit her teeth. There wasn’t any time to be upset with herself, or to panic, or lose control. She had to think. A thin layer of frost began to cover her skin beneath her sleeve, blossoming over the fresh wound.

"Amaya!" His voice loud and stern, coming from his mouth and not her head, a pitch somewhere between a warning scolding and a begging plea as the guards continued to grow nearer. The time for choices was running out.

“Lower your weapons.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried all the same. The guards halted, casting confused looks at her.

“But, Your –”

“Now.” They hesitated before allowing the tips of their swords to dip slightly. Her breath billowed out of her like smoke from a dragon. Her eyes didn’t leave Vellion. She waited.

Vellion let out a heavy sigh and casually straightened his coat. The tension in the air was palpable. Everyone was so eagerly keen to defend this, Amaya. Despite the uncertainty and pointed steel blades surrounding him, Vellion seemed calm and confident hidden beneath his hood.

"Thank you."

"Amaya... just who are you?" he questioned rhetorically in her mind. His raspy whispered words slowly finding their smooth fluent form. Amaya bristled at the sensation of his mind intruding into her own.

Elara’s heart pounded painfully, each beat reverberating in her ears like a drum as her eyes remained locked on Amaya. The frost glinting on Amaya’s skin caught the pale moonlight, delicate yet unnerving, like a fragile warning etched in ice. Her stomach churned at the sight of blood staining her friend’s sleeve, the crimson bloom vivid against the dark fabric. The metallic tang of fear seemed to fill the air as Elara’s breath fogged before her, the cold biting at her skin.

What had he done to her?

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails pressing crescents into her palms as she fought the instinct to rush forward. This was Amaya’s moment to lead, to take control, and Elara knew she had to trust her. But the tension coiled in her chest refused to release, tightening like a noose with every passing second. Her gaze darted briefly to the guards, their forms rigid yet hesitant, before snapping back to her friend, silently willing her to show some sign that she was okay.

“Amaya,” Elara finally murmured, her voice carried by the stillness of the night as it gave away her presence. Her eyes shifted to the man in the hood, his posture deceptively relaxed but brimming with a quiet menace that set her nerves on edge. “What’s happening?” she asked, careful to keep her tone measured, though the question trembled in her chest like a caged bird. But Amaya didn’t look back at her. Something flickered in her expression at the sound of Elara’s voice, but her eyes never left the hooded man.

“A mistake.”

Elara’s gaze swept back to the guards, their hesitation palpable despite the dip of their swords. She could see the uncertainty in their eyes, the brief glances they exchanged as they waited for direction. Frustration burned at the back of her throat. She wanted to scream at them, to demand they intervene, but Amaya’s command had been clear. Elara exhaled slowly, the frost of her breath dissipating into the night as she wrestled with the helplessness threatening to overwhelm her. Her faith in Amaya clashed with the rising tide of fear, leaving her suspended in that agonizing space between trust and terror.

Regardless….the snow beneath her boots crunched faintly as she adjusted her stance, a small movement to prepare herself.

If Amaya faltered, even for a moment, she would be ready.

Meanwhile Valthyr was indignant. How could they dare to ignore him now that he was a fluffy cat trying to cuddle! With his heightened sense of hearing, the conversation got almost painful the moment the guards were given the command not to intervene. Valthyr's personal pride urged him to turn yet again and into a wolf, but reason told to stay the way he was even if more indignity was bound to come in.

He had picked up something though and it had clearly come from Vellion's mouth, an announcement of sorts that he'd do something... unconventional ? Given the fact that his feline nose could now smell blood, it dawned upon him what that 'unconventional thing' might have been. So arguably a blightborn this Vellion guy and not the most respectful one at that. While the stance of the druids towards this rather recent emergence was not purely negative, he could have done without one of them in the road at this point.

He could not allow himself to be left standing outside, yet was also eager to see the situation unfold further before distracting anybody. Cats did have some means to do so aside from just meowing -- to nibble at one's feet, for example! He'd do that if necessary.

"I just wanted to talk to you–”

“Alone.”

"That is all, this is all truly unnecessary. I'm not trying to hurt you," he said reassuringly as his hands went up in a placating fashion. There was no sign of blood or injury on the hand that touched her.

"I risked a lot, I have... well, I've been a little selfish too, but.." There was an audible sigh as he rethought his next words. His gaze remained downwards and he stepped away, but she could 'feel' him looking at her from inside her mind, his presence taking a spot in there.

Amaya’s thoughts spun as she tried to evaluate the situation – not helped by the odd weightless sensation she tried to wade through, or the buzzing of foreign thoughts and restless magic. Her heart hammered in her chest. There was that feeling of helplessness again – being small and out of her league and ill-equipped. But there was also anger.

He was blightborn. Though she’d second-guessed herself outside the inn, now there was little doubt of it, if only because the form of his psychic magic felt so alien from the standard Lunarian style she’d trained against. He seemed to mix into the very fabric of her consciousness, fluid and inseparable from the boundaries that made her. Amaya poked and prodded at the spaces in her mind that he filled, trying to find the seams that separated them. How much force would it take to push him from her mind?

She tried to remember what else she’d discerned about him at the inn. She thought of the way he’d frantically hidden his leg, refusing to let others near it. He hid his face the same way, now, hood up, distant, cast in shadows… but they’d all already seen what he looked like. It didn’t make sense to obscure himself now. Why hide a face they’d all seen?

What else was there? He was desperate for something. Desperate meant dangerous. He snapped at anyone who wasn’t her. Why? Why so set on her, if he didn’t even know who she was?

"What harm is there in hearing a lonely man's words?"

Amaya’s eyes narrowed.

"Consider this the dying request of a fool. You can have your guards kill me when I am done. I don't care." The voice circling in her head was soft now but raw. Strung tight with emotion and unfiltered by charm or honeyed words. Amaya felt something like pity tighten around her heart at the sound, but she didn’t trust it. Not after all he’d said and done already. He put his hands out before himself, wrists together.

"Bind me if you wish, if that will put you at ease."

The invitation had barely left his lips before the world exploded in a flurry of white. Almost without her command, her magic lashed out. The guards shouted in surprise, blocking their eyes with raised arms, ice freezing along the edges of their blades.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: Outside the Inn}

---

---

Amaya gave a small, sharp gasp as suddenly the man’s hands were wrapped firmly around hers, long fingers encircling her wrist. He was up, in her space in a heartbeat. He was so close, his eyes seeming to trap her as he looked down into her own. Amaya wanted to pull away but she couldn’t move, boxed in by the press of too close bodies, and eyes, and strangers –

Out. She needed out.

He was speaking. Voice soft and melodic, the words seemed to blur together as she looked up at him. His body was curled over her, and it was like she was surrounded by him — weighing her down, holding her in place as the sea of people only thickened, bustling and stormy.

Perhaps if Amaya wasn’t a mess of nerves, perhaps if she wasn’t constantly working to keep such a type grip over her magic, perhaps if this strange man’s abilities had been familiar instead of blightborn, if he hadn’t been needling away at her with singular focus for the past few minutes, if he hadn’t touched her, if, if, if —

But all of these things were true. The ground beneath her feet seemed fluid and shifting. It pushed her towards him. Or maybe he pulled her along instead. When he bent his head lower to murmur in her ear, voice soft and close, Amaya thought she heard someone else. When she looked back down at his hands still claiming her, he was so startlingly fair, his skin like milk against her own. She looked up at him, blinking. The edges of his face seemed to blur, flickering. What color were his eyes? They seemed to glow amber in the firelight.

There was no warmth to his body. No heat that seeped into her. So there was nothing to contrast her own chill as frost grew along the skin of her hands, her tenuous grip on her magic slipping.

And then suddenly someone else was in her space, commanding attention. Amaya jumped at the feel of another touch on her arm, a long finger tracing along her skin. Small, icy flowers bloomed along her arm, painting the path that he traced. And when Amaya looked up at this new person, this sudden source of warmth —

Blond hair and eyes like the sea, expression stormy as he watched the man who’d dared to set her so off balance.

The world seemed to trickle in. Amaya blinked as she watched this new man, her vision refocusing. His eyes were wrong — they weren’t green, but a ghostly blue. He was older. His face wasn’t quite right. It was handsome in its own way, but it wasn’t the landscape that she knew.

Another body. Another force moving against her. Amaya blinked awake fully.

The healer who’d come to assist, the slight woman with white hair, was offering hurried apologies and offers to accompany them — accompany them? Whom? To where? Reality flooded her. The two men who loomed over her, caging her in. They each doffed the familiar masks her mind had given them. They’d both laid claim to her arm, eyeing each other like territorial dogs.

She’d been magicked.

A new emotion struck her through her haze of confusion: anger. Icy and unrelenting, it crawled through her body as she took in the scene again. The man holding her hand – he’d been trying to spirit her away. All his pretty words, his heartbroken look that he’d first given her, had all been a ploy. The blond man, though… the one who’d taunted her and set her so on edge…

He was closer than acceptable – they both were – but he wasn’t looking at her. Though his hand lingered on her arm, he looked at the black haired man with a clear warning in his eyes. Danger crackled like electricity in the air. Amaya didn’t know what to make of it – the way he seemed ready to remove this interloper by force. It didn’t fit against the other pieces she’d assembled in her mind about him. Still, there was a hesitant sort of gratitude that touched her as she looked up at him.

Amaya’s world expanded beyond just the two men confining her. The healer. The barefoot man. Elara. The bustling crowd, half the town having gathered for the feast. The electricity sparking between the men suddenly wasn’t just a warning. It was an inevitability, threatening to catch everyone up in the storm. Amaya felt the weight of her station like a winter cloak, heavy on her shoulders. She wasn’t ever given authority to exercise here in Dawnhaven, but on some level these people were still her responsibility.

Her decision was so quick that Amaya didn’t even have time to register it. Fixing a smile on her face, she looked between the two men standing over.

“Gentlemen,” she said with a light, chastising tone. Her free hand, the one that glittered with her wedding band, touched the blond man’s hand. A staying motion. She turned her attention back to the man who seemed so intent on pulling her away. “It would be my pleasure to show you the temple. I’m quite overdue for a visit myself, I think.” Her magic buzzed under her skin, growing restless. Amaya forced her smile to remain in place as she slipped her hand into the crook of his offered arm. “I haven’t taken a proper dip in a moon pool since – when was it, Elara?” Amaya craned her neck to find her handmaiden, meeting her eyes. “Bishop Ashwood’s consecration last summer?” One of the guards nearby looked at Amaya sharply. She knew him. He’d been stationed at the palace for most of her life.

Amaya never entered moon pools. There was no Bishop Ashwood. She’d avoided large bodies of water ever since she was a child, and ‘Ashwood’ was a codeword the palace had come up with to discreetly alert those who knew it to potential danger or complications. The king had only ever had a single heir – safeguards had been put in place to keep her alive. At least, until it became convenient to get rid of her, apparently.

“Sir Abel, would you escort us?” The guard gave a nod, then a silent command to another guard to accompany them as well. Amaya was already moving away from the crowd, lightly tugging the black haired man by the arm she was wrapped around. She looked then to the healer. “Your care is admirable for your profession, but the snow can make travel dangerous if your leg is troubling you. Perhaps you should stay, and sit a while. I’ll make sure he receives adequate care.”

He wanted Amaya away from the crowd? Fine. Better that this ticking bomb go off in private, rather than put any of the citizens at risk. Better to keep this contained than make a scene. Her anger was an indignant, icy thing as she batted her eyes up at him. She smiled like she was still under his spell, the two guards trailing behind them.

---

_{Interactions: Elara Moonshadow @Qia, Vellion Hurst @Dark Light, Aurora Halliwell @BlackRoseSiren, Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Valthyr Naffron @Fetzen}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: The Sun Temple}

---

---

Reality slammed back into Tia at the sound of the Prince’s voice. Her eyes widened. She was being disrespectful. She almost fell over herself snapping into a low bow.

“Your Highness.” Her broken rasp, soft though it was, seemed to echo in time with the crackling flame. Her hands tightened around the twins’.

He… wanted to speak with her?

Her mind spun with the possibilities — few of them good. The happy bubble she’d been encased within at the arrival of Ranni and Dyna burst. Tia could practically see the sparkling remains dissipating in the air.

Still bowing, she looked up to see him framed between the strands of her pale hair. The scarf around her neck suddenly seemed too warm. She straightened from her bow, giving a nervous nod of her head. She glanced at the two sisters again. Dyna had snapped into familiar protocol, stiff and unyielding — and brittle. Ranni, meanwhile… her protégé looked like she was afraid she might get strung up and beaten for merely daring to enter the temple. Tia’s heart squeezed tight at the sight of the nervous sisters.

She couldn’t just be anxious Tia anymore — she had to be a role model again.

She relaxed her grip on their hands, so it was secure rather than desperate. She gave them another gentle squeeze. Waiting until they both looked to her, Tia smiled gently. Even as her heart seemed to hammer in her chest.

Finally releasing them, Tia eased the temple door closed. Then she lifted a hand towards the nearest pews, directing them to sit. With one last look — that she hoped was more reassuring than she felt — Tia made her way towards the Prince.

She gave another small bow of her head as she passed him and started leading the way down the hall he’d indicated.

Was… was she even supposed to be in front? He was the Prince. Was anyone supposed to walk before him? But she lived here, didn’t she need to lead him to the correct room? He’d had the temple built, why wouldn’t he know the correct path to the room? It wasn’t exactly a laberynth, there were two bedrooms, a private wash, and a linen closet back here, why wouldn’t he be expected to know —

Did he know about the letters? Was that why he wanted to speak? Tia hadn’t even sent the first one, it was still weighing down her inner robe pocket like an unlit firework, and she’d already been discovered!? Or the Queen was displeased that she’d taken so long, and she’d written to her son to reprimand Tia. What if it wasn’t about the letters at all? There’d been a feast this morning. Was he upset she hadn’t come? As a representative of the church, it was her responsibility to appear at official events, and if the Prince saw her failure to attend as an insult — especially since this was the second event in a row that she’d missed, and the last one had been to announce the death of the Lunarian Queen What if — oh burning sun above, it was because she’d touched him the last time. He was here to reprimand her and demand an apology for having the audacity to touch his face in a fit of temporary insanity. Emotionality? She’d been crying. She’d been exhausted. He’d looked so sad. Was he sad now? Angry? His face had given nothing away, and certainly it was possible he wasn’t upset with her, but —

Tia had spent the entirety of the short walk down the hallway spiraling. She blinked, realizing she stood at the far end of her own bed chamber. Her cheeks heated. Was it clean enough? The bed was made, at least. The small stack of papers she’d written her dreams on were carefully hidden away within the pages of a book in the bottom of her drawer seemed to glow in her mind — like their location would be obvious to the Prince. Turning, she saw the Prince on the other side of the room — his body between her and the door.

Tia gave a polite smile, trying to hide her nervousness. She gave another small bow. It stuttered though when she realized she’d left her notebook outside in the snow. She had more paper, of course — but the reminder of her own carelessness, of the scene she’d made in front of Orion, only added to her anxiety. The idea of having to write for the Prince, her deficiencies on full display, especially when this meeting seemed of a more serious nature, made her want to bury herself in the snow.

She swallowed, trying to focus on the muscles in her throat. They tightened with her heightened nerves.

“How may I serve the crown?” It was almost too many words at once. Her breath caught painfully against her ruined throat, her voice breaking on the last word.

---

_{Interaction: Flynn Astaros @The Muse, Ranni and Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}