c3p-0h

Realms of Sun & Shadow

The trek back to Orion’s residence was a shared venture, graced by the company of Flynn, the Prince of Aurelia. The prince’s presence seemed to weave a spell over the elements themselves, the falling snowflakes pausing mid-descent as if to honour his passage. Flynn’s stride was one of natural nobility, a fluid motion that spoke of a lineage steeped in power and grace. For Orion, the prince’s proximity was both a balm to his spirit and a small weight of duty that pressed upon him like the winter’s cold. Nonetheless, Willis’s recent arrival in Orion’s life had introduced a new dynamic to his daily routine, one that brought with it a sense of responsibility Orion had not sought but accepted with his characteristic stoicism. The prince’s understanding of this situation provided a measure of relief, a silent acknowledgment that Orion’s guardianship was valued.

And temporary.

The loaf of bread, cradled gently under Orion’s arm, radiated a warmth that contrasted sharply with the evening’s frosty bite. It was a simple, rustic fare, far removed from the lavish banquets that graced the prince’s table back in Aurelia. Yet, in its simplicity, it bore the mark of Orion’s deep-seated care and meticulous attention to those entrusted to his guardianship, whether it be temporary as in Tia’s case or not.

Flynn followed Orion in silence, his mind heavy with the events of the day. Orion had informed him of the blight-born’s "mishap" with a civilian and how Tia, the new Priestess, had nearly died saving that boy’s life. The news had unsettled Flynn, and he couldn’t shake the growing unease in his chest. His concern grew with each step, the lingering question of whether he had been wrong to harbor blight-born in Dawnhaven gnawing at him.

Yet, there was Orion — a blight-born he trusted with his life, who had served him dutifully. Perhaps the risk was worth it. Orion had always conducted himself with a calm and confident demeanor, qualities Flynn admired and needed, especially when the responsibilities of leadership began to wear him down. Orion understood the gravity of the situation and the difficult position Flynn was in, yet his steady presence provided a glimmer of hope and reassurance.

Upon reaching his home, Orion’s hand pressed against the wood, easing the door open with a gentle creak that seemed to sing a greeting. The warmth that spilled forth was a tangible embrace, chasing away the evening’s frost with its inviting caress. They stepped inside, the prince’s eyes briefly surveying the living space with an air of quiet approval.

As they stepped into the advisor’s home, Flynn’s thoughts churned. Had he been too idealistic, too trusting in believing the blight-born could coexist peacefully in Dawnhaven? The memory of Tia’s near-death experience and the injured child haunted him. He knew he had to confront these doubts and make decisions that would ensure the safety of his people.

The bread was placed on a table in the living area and, with a shared glance, the two men made their way to the bedroom door, behind which the priestess lay in recovery. Orion’s hand, steady and sure, came to rest upon the doorknob. A breath, a heartbeat, a fleeting moment passed as he steeled himself for the sight of Tia’s vulnerability, for the responsibility he had shouldered, however temporary it might be.

The door swung open with a hush, a silent herald to the chaos that lay beyond its threshold. The scene that unfolded before Orion’s eyes struck him with a mighty force. His gaze, once filled with the calm of a guardian, now mirrored the storm of emotions that raged within.

“What in the world…,” the words escaped him, his eyes scanning the scene with a rare frenziness.

Blood spoke of violence, of wounds unseen. Eris, a figure of strength, now lay pallid and diminished, a shadow of her former self. And Tia, her state one of frantic energy, her hands fluttering like caged birds desperate for escape.

"What happened here?" Orion’s voice cut through the disarray, a blade forged in the fires of his shock and concern.

“Orion!” Willis yelped in surprise, struggling to face Orion as his hair was being uprooted by Tia sitting on his shoulder. “Ouch! Tingara, can you please sit still!” Willis hissed angrily at Tia, clenching his palm over her leg to give it a squeeze. Tia winced, froze in place, and looked at the top of Willis’ head with wide, panicked eyes. “I may need to use you as a human shield later, so conserve your strength for now!” The priestess’ frantic gaze shot up to the two newcomers.

Flynn’s gaze hardened as he stepped through the threshold into Orion's room, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the face of the task at hand. "What is going on?" he demanded, his tone sharp with authority. His eyes darted from Tia to Eris and then to the blight-born man, his hand cautiously moving to rest on the hilt of the sword strapped to his side.

“So uh… basically me and the Lead Sage, Eris, right? We got into a big fight over Tingara here.” Willis sort of twirls in place, showing off Tia to Orion. She gasped, struggling to hold on. This was not helping her lightheadedness. “All of that happened while you were gone. Like, I had to bust out of a prison made from pure light, or something. So that’s why your house looks like a huge mess right now. Sorry about that, ehehe.”

"Put her down at once," Flynn commanded, noting the frantic look on the Priestess's face. Eris, on the other hand, lay on her back on the bed, eyes wide open as she stared at the ceiling. Was she dead?

“Can you guarantee that you won’t attack me? I’m scared.” Based on the look on Tia’s face, he wasn’t the only one. Willis gave Flynn a full-body scan, hand firmly grasping Tia’s legs in a threatening grip. The man, though haughty by the looks of him, had an athletic build, and the contour of his muscles rippled beneath his outfit as he moved his hand to the sheath of his prestigious-looking scabbard. He was crowned by swaying blonde hair, and beneath it, he had a pair of sea-green eyes, bearing down on Willis commandingly.

Barely registering the entrance of someone into the room, Eris watched as black and blue orbs danced in her vision, mesmerized by them. Hearing a familiar voice, Eris slowly struggled to bring herself into a sitting position. Time felt as if it was moving much slower for her than for the people around her. Dizzy, she grinned widely as she beheld the Prince and his advisor, though they seemed to double in her perception. "OOoohhhh," She looked towards Willis, a streak of blood running from her nose down the side of her cheek. "Yooouu," she pointed, her voice playful yet accusatory. "Trouble." she giggled, excited at the thought that Willis was about to face consequences for his actions.

Tia was stunned by how rapidly the situation had gotten out of control. Her gaze flicked between Eris, incapacitated on the bed, and the two men in the doorway with menace in their voices and violence in their eyes. She recognized one - the man who seemed to be sculpted from stone, from the debacle in the marketplace. The other… there was no mistaking his eyes, his blond hair, the shape of his cheekbones… he looked just like his mother.

This was how she was finally meeting Prince Flynn of Aurelia.

Tia fought to keep her balance, hands scrambling to find purchase on Willis’ head as he shifted his weight. His grip on her leg burned through the many layers of her robes. He didn’t seem… malicious. But he did act with a wild disregard for others and their mortality, and now he had her captive on his shoulders with promises of using her as a human shield.

But Aelios had shown him to her. She had deemed him - and his purple blood - important.

Tia struggled through the rising, familiar panic in her throat. She dared a look at the prince, eyes still wide. She mouthed a silent plea: Don’t kill him.

Orion’s gaze now flared with an intensity that transformed his eyes into twin beacons of turbulent emotion. The anger that sparked within him was a living thing, a flame kindled by the sight of Tia, her form trembling with fear as she balanced perilously atop Willis’s broad shoulders.

The room- his room- had become a stage for pandemonium, with Willis at its epicenter. Orion’s mind raced, thoughts colliding like waves against a cliffside. He had known Willis to be a harbinger of disorder. But this—this chaos that now greeted Orion’s eyes—was a transgression that eclipsed all prior antics.

Tia’s eyes, wide and brimming with a terror that pierced Orion’s soul, met the Prince’s, and in that gaze, he saw a plea for help, a silent request that demanded action. The fire within Orion grew, fueled by the need to protect and restore order to the world that Willis had upended.

“Just..put.her.down,” Orion commanded in place of the prince this time, his voice a low growl.

Flynn bristled as Willis explained that he and Eris had gotten into a fight, his eyes darting to the small brunette woman swaying on the bed as if she were drunk. She must have used her magic in an attempt to help the Priestess. It was foolish, but at least she appeared to be alive. As he watched Eris, he noticed Tia in his peripheral vision, looking at him with wide eyes. His gaze shifted to her, noticing the way she mouthed not to kill the blight-born she was struggling to get away from. He narrowed his eyes, confused. He did not intend to kill Willis—yet—but why did Tia care?

Flynn’s attention snapped back to Willis as Orion spoke, his jaw flexing in irritation, his patience wearing thin. "If you do not put her down, I can guarantee you will find no refuge here," he growled, his eyes reflecting his growing anger. He tightened his grip on his sword but restrained himself from uttering a more aggressive threat that came to mind. As the Prince and founder of Dawnhaven, he knew he had to balance compassion with caution, leadership with empathy. "You have already done enough damage today. Do you intend to shelter here or not? Step away from the women. Now."
With reluctance, Willis backstepped until his leg bumped into the bed where Eris sat. Lowering his arms behind him, Willis set Tia down on the mattress next to Eris. Then he shuffled back to where he stood, raising his arms in surrender.

Tia let out a strangled squeak as she dropped to the bed. She felt like a mouse that had just been dropped from a cat’s mouth - like prey that couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t a meal yet. Dizzying adrenaline was still pumping through her, trying to power her exhausted body. Her dark eyes were glued to Willis for a moment. Then she spared a glance to Orion and the Prince, before turning all her attention back on Eris beside her. Better to bury herself in work she could actually deal with (because she was obviously helpless if anyone else in the room decided to make her so).

Even in her addled state, she knew she couldn’t afford to use any magic - if she’d recovered any at all after using so much to save the child. But Tia still knew what to look for. She leaned over Eris’ face, forcing her vision into focus to track her eyes, watch them dilate as Tia took up her field of view. She was breathing - too irregular, too shallow. The priestess reached down, fingers lightly folding around Eris’ slender hands. They had grown cold, the pulse there weak.

Tia’s shaking hands fumbled with the knot at her belt, undoing it as quickly as she could, trying to ignore the men (and the ever-present chance that she might become a casualty in their drama). It seemed like an eternity before the knot was undone and the belt lay discarded. Tia pulled the heavy outer layer of her robes off and draped it over Eris from the neck down. It was still covered in dirt and dried blood. But it was thick - warm. Tia’s skin prickled from the cold. Her scar seemed to burn.

Eris grinned at Tia, clutching the robe closer to her chest. "You're so nice," she said softly, looking at the Priestess in awe, completely oblivious to the chaos around her. "And pretty like the sun goddess herself," she added breathily, her thoughts spilling out unchecked as her eyes fixated on Tia. Warmth cracked through the priestess’ fear as she offered Eris a small, shy smile. And if there was a tinge of pink on her cheeks, who could say it wasn’t from the chill? Swaying forward, Eris closed her eyes tightly, trying her best to stay upright. "No, no, no," she whispered under her breath, taking a deep breath as a shiver ran through her body. Tia brought a hand to Eris’ shoulder, shushing her as she tried to guide her back to lay down on the bed. Their positions were a familiar reflection, now reversed as Tia became caretaker and Eris the patient.

Orion’s eyes, reflecting the room’s dim light, were windows to a soul wracked with concern. Tia’s frantic movements, her hands fluttering in desperate attempts to stem the tide of Eris’s lifeblood, painted a portrait of dire urgency that pierced his heart. With each passing second, her vitality seemed to wane, and the sight of it clawed at his insides.

He’d asked for a favour, only for it to lead to this. Unbelievable.

Flynn silently exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as Willis released his grip on the Priestess and stepped away. Relaxing his hold on his sword, Flynn moved to take a closer look at the two women. As Orion tended to them, Flynn positioned himself protectively between them and Willis. "Thank you," he said curtly, his eyes never leaving the blight-born. Though the situation with Eris seemed dire, Flynn knew better than to turn his back on a potential threat.

“Yeah, no problem,” Willis said to Flynn. “Are you the prince? I’ve been looking for you! My name is Willis, but you can call me Willy. I was a Lunarian Ranger, and I want to live in Dawnhaven. I was going to clean myself up and find you, but life had other plans for me, hahaha.” Willis smiled awkwardly at Flynn, gesturing to his blood-soaked self and shifting around the prince to block his view of the injured Tia and Eris.

Compelled by a need to provide solace, Orion closed the distance between them while keeping one eye on Willis. He reached out, his hand hovering. Better not to scare her any further.

“Can you…help her?” The words, barely above a whisper, carried the weight of the little hope he still had to right the situation. It was a question, but also a lifeline, extended in an attempt to keep to his original purpose: the balancing of the monster within him and the human.

Tia jumped at the low, smooth voice so close to her, flinching away. She turned to look over her shoulder to suddenly be trapped in the gaze of crimson eyes. And then she was prey again. She was on the ground under the open sky with her throat ripped open.

She ripped her gaze away to look down, somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. Her lips pressed together. Tia glanced back at Eris.

Reaching into the pocket of her linen inner robe, Tia pulled out a small notebook and charcoal stick - the ones she’d received from Pleiades upon her arrival in Dawnhaven.

In the eight years they’d existed, Tia had only ever encountered a single blight-born, and now there were three in one day.

She flipped to the same page she’d written on before, and scrawled a quick note with shaking hands. She held the book up to Orion. Her eyes were still downcast.

Not hurt. Exhausted. Needs rest.

After what felt like an eternity trying to get her mind to stop spinning, Eris opened her eyes and spotted the Prince's advisor hovering over her. Forgetting the situation, she tossed the robe aside and frantically rummaged through her skirt pockets. "Orion!" she exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing he was in the room. "I saved this for you!" She triumphantly held up the picture that had been in the locket that Willis had broken open.

Orion's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the picture. He took a step closer, carefully reaching out to take it from Eris's trembling fingers. As he held the small, delicate piece of paper, memories washed over him, bringing with them a flood of emotions he had long buried. “Thank you, Eris,” he said softly, his voice tinged with gratitude and a hint of sorrow. He carefully folded the picture and tucked it into his own pocket, ensuring its safety. “You did well.”

Willis cringed at the sight of the picture. “Yeah… Orion, I’m so sorry about trying to steal from you and causing this big ruckus. I figured a rich guy like you wouldn’t mind me borrowing some things from your house to pay for my necessities, hahaha. And Tingara, I’m sorry for holding you hostage and trying to sip on your delicious lifeblood! Oh, and Eris, I’m sorry for injuring you; I didn’t know about the magical backlash from shattering your ward! I will do my utmost to atone for my mistakes, so if there’s anything that you all need from me, let me know!” Willis bowed deeply to Orion, Tia, and Eris, then stood up to look back at Flynn. “So… Your Majesty, am I allowed to stay here?”

Orion’s gaze shifted, a silent exchange of understanding passing between him and Flynn before settling on Willis. His eyes, hard as forged steel, bore into the young man who had disrupted the fragile peace of their sanctuary. “Trust is not given lightly here,” he began. “Especially not after what you’ve done.”

“You will have to earn it,” Orion continued. “And it will not be easy.”

Flynn nodded in agreement with Orion, watching Willis cautiously. "My advisor speaks true. You've not proven yourself capable of living peacefully." he stated, gesturing towards the room's disarray and then to Tia and Eris. "You've disrespected this home, Orion's generosity, Tia and Eris, Dawnhaven... and me." His voice was stern, his emerald eyes glaring at the newcomer. "I should have your head for it." He paused, considering it. If he were his father, Willis would have been executed at once. However, Flynn was determined not to become his father.

"You're fortunate that I am a man who believes in second chances." He cast a quick glance at Eris and Tia, wondering if he would regret this decision. He understood that the blight-born came from a world of chaos and survival, and he sympathized with them. Yet, if they were to live here, they must reacquaint themselves with civil life. "You will stay at the tavern tonight. You will not cause any more trouble," he commanded, leaving no room for argument. "I will give you a formal interview there, and we will decide your fate then." It was a vague threat, though Flynn did not actually intend to kill this man unless provoked. Willis wouldn’t be the first blight-born Flynn had to kill in self-defense, though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that within the walls of Dawnhaven.

“Alright!” Willis said to Flynn and Orion.

Tia let out a breath - though she couldn’t tell if it was one of relief, or apprehension. Perhaps it was best to focus on the small victories. No one was dead. Willis was to remain in town (even if this was actually his third chance, if Tia’s memory served correctly). Dawnhaven was still standing. She still had… so much to deal with, but that could wait until she didn’t feel like she wanted to bury herself under a pile of leaves and hibernate for the winter.

Turning back to Eris on the bed, Tia wrapped her outer robe around her shoulders, after it’d been cast aside so haphazardly.

With a gentle cough, a soft, deliberate sound that barely rose above the whisper of the wind outside, Orion drew Tia’s attention once again. She jumped a bit again, turning back to him. “I brought something back for you.” The words were simple, yet given everything that had occurred it was hard for him to say. His small thoughtful gesture just seemed so…silly now. Tia looked down at the loaf of bread, stunned. Her mouth parted slightly.

“It’s not much,” he continued, an apologetic smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “but I thought you might appreciate some sustenance after everything that’s happened.”

Tia’s dark eyes rose again to meet Orion’s. The feeling in her chest was strange, but… oddly familiar. It was the same one that had warmed her earlier that morning when Pleiades had held out the notebook to her.

It was a stunned gratitude that someone would think of her. It hadn’t even occurred to Tia that she might be hungry.

She looked at the stony blight-born, with his carefully carved features, his crimson eyes, his small, shy smile as he offered her food. Tia swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. Then she forced her hand to raise, reach out, and take the bread - her careful fingers never touching his. Tia dipped her head in a small bow.

Flynn observed the brief exchange between Orion and Tia before approaching Eris, who had nestled her head into Tia's robes and closed her eyes, seemingly drifting off to sleep. "Let's get you two home," he said, his voice much gentler than when he had been addressing Willis. Tia’s attention darted back to him, before quickly looking down again. Eris opened one eye, studying him for a moment before handing Tia's robes back to the Priestess. "Thank you," she said softly, then took the hand that Flynn offered and relied on him to help her stand. Her legs felt shaky, but she could feel the energy inside her body beginning to level out once more.

Once Eris was on her feet, Flynn turned to Tia and offered her a hand up as well. "I'm deeply sorry about your first experience here, Priestess," he said with a frown, feeling anxiety rise within his chest. Her experience was not what Flynn had planned for Dawnhaven, especially not as a first impression for a Priestess of Aelios. His mother would be furious once she heard what had happened, and he was sure she would hear about it somehow.

As the prince fretted silently to himself, so too did the priestess. Tia blinked down at his hand, feeling the dried blood that coated her own.She would get it on his skin, she knew, if she dared to take his hand. And if she dared to reject his offer? Her fingers curled in the fabric of her robe as she looked up at him again. Her gaze drifted to Eris, nearly tottering over, to Willis, looking pleased with himself, to Orion, calm and placid like the ocean after a storm had passed.

Then Tia placed her blood-stained hands in the prince’s, and let him pull her to her feet.

---

_{Collab between: Orion @Qia, Willis @BOOM, Eris, Flynn @The Muse, and Tia @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

---

Sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair beside Orion’s bed, Eris nervously glanced up from a book she had taken from one of Orion’s shelves: The Art of the Blade. Though she had no real interest in mastering swordplay, the book served as a distraction and a small barrier between her and the mysterious blight-born man she had been tasked with overseeing. The man, introduced to her as Willis, had been polite enough so far. However, when Orion informed her that she was responsible for keeping him in line, she demanded that Willis keep his distance and remain on the other side of the room. He occupied his own chair by the window, staring out into the world beyond, clearly bored.

For hours, the two of them had been keeping watch over the slumbering Aelios Priestess. Eris had offered Willis little in the way of conversation, her fear of him palpable. She knew nothing of his blight-born nature, which only heightened her anxiety. So far, he didn’t seem to resemble Pleiades—at least, he hadn’t attempted to seduce her yet. Not only that, but his clothes were matted with congealed blood, a detail Orion had attempted to explain, but had only left Eris with more questions than answers. Questions she had refused to actually ask Willis. Nonetheless, she had accepted Orion’s plea for assistance. She was a healer and Dawnhaven’s lead researcher in all things blight related, after all.

Peering over the edge of the book, her icy blue eyes lingered as she took the opportunity to assess his features while he wasn't looking directly at her. She imagined he might have been attractive when he was human, though it was hard to say for sure through the blood that speckled him, his messy hair, and the glowing eyes that radiated his distaste for being confined in this room with her.

As his chair creaked when he shifted his position, Eris immediately snapped her eyes back to the book, raising it slightly to block her face from view. Her heart raced, hoping he hadn't caught her staring at him from the other corner of the room. She closed her eyes for a moment, her face hidden behind the book. ‘Please wake up, Priestess… PLEASE,’ she thought, opening her eyes and casting a sideways glance at the blonde woman on Orion’s bed, who still appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
Willis yawned, showing two dagger-like fangs sticking out of his mouth. He slowly shifted in the chair, turning to look back at Eris. Her soft brown hair cascaded behind her shoulder, revealing her slender neck. Willis’ eyes constricted into a pinprick as he felt a sharp pang of hunger in his stomach. Pushing back the desire to sink his fangs into her jugular, Willis jerked upright from the chair, knocking it into the wall behind him with a loud CRASH!

Eris jumped, fumbling the book in her hands and nearly dropping it. Her eyes darted over to Willis as he stood, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it—especially with whatever enhanced abilities he possessed.

“I’m hungry…” Willis pleaded to Eris. “Is it okay if I, uh… you know.” He gestured toward Tia’s sleeping figure. “Borrow some blood from her? I just need a sip, I swear!”

"No! Ab-Absolutely not." Eris shut the book more aggressively than intended, then set it down gingerly on the table beside her. "No..." she repeated, her voice softer now. She glanced at the Priestess, considering shaking her awake so they could both escape. However, knowing what Tia had just done to save a child's life, Eris dared not disturb her. Tia's body needed to recover from the mana she had expended; it was incredible that she was alive at all after such a feat.

"You'll certainly kill her if you do that... she's already so weak." Turning her attention back to Willis, Eris narrowed her eyes. 'So he's a bloodsucker then...' She thought, reminded of Kira who had a similar affliction. Kira had never caused Eris any trouble, despite the intimidating presence she carried around with her, which gave her a sliver of hope regarding Willis.

In her studies, Eris had read about sages offering blood to vampire blight-borns to keep them alive as test subjects, often extracting blood through a syringe rather than letting them bite a human's neck. The idea crossed her mind to do that for Willis, especially if he only needed a sip, but there were no syringes in Orion's room. The thought of using a knife to slit her wrist for him was equally unappealing. "Once she wakes up, you need to see the Prince, and then you can find something outside of Dawnhaven to feed on..." She felt bad for whatever human or animal would eventually become his food. "Can't you wait?" It was a genuine question—was he in dire need, or was he about to go feral in the room with her? "I'm sure she will wake up soon..." She wasn't sure at all, but she tried to reassure him nonetheless.

Willis turned back and looked behind him. The chair he had sat on was reduced to a pile of wood scrap. He shrugged and strode over next to Tia, and sat on her bed with his back facing Eris. The Priestess’ finger twitched, unnoticed. “Well, let’s talk for a bit then, to distract me from my hunger.” He craned his neck to look back at Eris. “I’m Willis, but you can call me Willy. I’m a retired Lunarian Ranger. Who are you?”

Eris leapt from her seat as Willis approached, her stomach twisting with anxiety as he sat down beside the Priestess. "P-please don't touch her!" Eris blurted out, her hands forming a few quick ward symbols before a faint glow of transparent yellow light enveloped the blonde woman's body. Nervously, Eris had cast a shield of light around the woman, preventing anyone or anything from reaching her. This use of magic would deplete her resources quickly, risking her own consciousness, but in Eris's panic, she deemed it necessary. There was no telling what a blight-born might do when hungry. Eris had promised Orion that she would keep the Priestess safe and she intended to keep her word. It was at least better for Willis to feed off her than the Priestess of Aelios.

Moving around the room, Eris positioned herself at the foot of the bed to better observe Willis while maintaining distance between them. "I'm Eris," she said softly, trying to ignore the pounding in her head from the rush of adrenaline. She almost chuckled when he referred to himself as retired; dying on duty and becoming blight-born was much more likely. Retired was a nice way to put it. "I'm the Lead Sage here... I research the blight." Her voice trailed off as she glanced down at her trembling hands. Struggling to keep the conversation going to prevent Willis from deciding to attack her, Eris asked the first question that came to mind. "Did you come to Dawnhaven for refuge, or just to find your next meal?"

“Good question, hahaha. I’m still undecided.” Willis made a face, his eyes transfixed on the golden hue that surrounded Tia. He stabbed a finger at Tia, but as he touched the light, a pressure blocked his thrust. “I came here out of desperation. For half a month, the Lunarian king and his underlings chased me from mountain to mountain and village to village until I made it to Dawnhaven,” he explained, knocking his knuckles against Tia’s forehead. His hand bounced off the light, causing a ripple to form in the shield of light that protected Tia. “But a man’s gotta eat.”

“Actually… Eris!” Willis looked up at her. “You said you are the Lead Sage, right? So you must have studied a lot about us… about those afflicted with the blight. Is there… is there a cure yet?” he said, with hope in his voice.
Below him, the soft glow of Eris’ magic rippled like water, reverberations fluttering out from Willis’ touch.

_{......Tiiin……
…Tin…
......Gaaaaa……
…Ga…
......Raaaaaaaa……
…Ra…
Awaken.}

Tia gasped awake, air rough in her throat. It caught, thick and reeking of blood. She was bleeding out - she must’ve been - and her vision filled with golden light. She couldn’t breathe. Her chest convulsed as she tried, but each breath only brought the taste of iron, thick and rotting. Panicked hands shot to her throat, clawing at the scarf that was still wrapped around her. It was solid and sticky, congealed blood clinging to her palms, burrowing under her nails.

Before Eris could respond, her attention snapped to the Priestess as she gasped for air. The shield of light immediately began to dissipate into the air in a glitter of gold and white as Eris rushed to her bedside. Now shoulder to shoulder with Willis, Eris dropped to her knees next to Tia on the bed, her eyes frantically scanning over the woman as she grasped at the blood-soaked scarf. "What—What's wrong?!" she asked in a panicked tone, desperately searching for the source of the Priestess's distress. Swiftly, Eris pulled the scarf away from Tia's neck and tossed it aside, revealing a mess of scars along the Priestesses throat. From what Eris could tell, these scars were old and had healed long ago, though it was still shocking to see such an injury upon the sacred skin of a Priestess.

Lifting her hands above Tia, Eris closed her eyes and focused all the energy she had left within her. Her hands began to glow with a hue of golden light, but as she hovered them, she sensed no major wounds to direct the healing magic towards. Opening her eyes, Eris looked at Willis, realizing she was closer to him than she would have liked, but now was not the time to go running. "Was she attacked before this? Orion didn't say anything about her being injured too?!"

“Well, uh… she wasn’t attacked. More like she exhausted herself helping other people.” Willis thumbed his chin, looking down at the large scar running across Tia’s neck. “I saw her at the market surrounded by a crowd, touching a boy with glowing hands like yours. I’m guessing she was healing him. She was already wearing that scarf then. I got closer to talk to her, but then she got scared, and I got hit in the arm with a shovel. Then people started to scream and run like a bunch of headless chickens. When I got back, she almost passed out carrying that boy, covered in blood. So Orion and I rescued her from the crowd and took her here.”

Reality trickled back to Tia through her panic. Touch - the cloying stickiness of the scarf ripped away from her neck, leaving a sudden chill. Sight - the golden glow that filled her vision faded, unfocused forms and shadowed colors taking shape. Sound -

In the eternal one’s veins…seek the violet flow.

Even as the voices in the room grew more solid, Tia couldn’t make them out beneath the words that echoed in her mind. She could still feel the burning gaze of - of something watching her, waiting for her to catch up and get to work. She knew the feeling of that gaze, all heat and weight and commandment, branding her. She’d felt it in a dream once before.

And then two days later, the sun had failed to rise, just as she’d seen.

A prophecy.

Tia’s hand shot out to grip the arm of the person closest to her - a woman she didn’t know, standing above her. Blood was dried and flaking where it covered her hand. The air was still thick with the smell. But she could breathe again, at least. Her mind whirled to reorient herself. She wasn’t dying. She wasn’t in that field, surrounded by corpses, bleeding out as she watched the stars move above her. Quick, shallow breaths escaped her as she forced her eyes to focus on the woman.

Eris let out a sigh of relief as Willis explained the situation, glad she didn't have to use any healing magic. Suddenly, Tia's hand shot out and gripped her arm tightly, making Eris gasp in surprise. As the golden hue of her magic faded from her hands, Eris examined the Priestess's hand, covered in flaking dried blood. Why did everything today have to be so bloody? First, she had put her face in a dead squirrel, then she had to deal with Willis, who was utterly drenched in it, and now she was getting the red hue rubbed off on her arm once again. Nothing sounded better than a long soak in the hot springs right now.

"It's okay, Tia. Everything is okay," Eris said softly, gently cupping Tia's hand with her own in reassurance. "You're safe." Eris glanced over at Willis briefly, feeling a shiver run down her back as she was reminded how close she was to a hungry blight-born. They were not safe.

"Willis and I have been watching over you." She paused, unsure if the Priestess even knew who Willis was, let alone Eris. "You're very lucky to be alive." She returned her gaze to the blonde woman, trying her hardest not to look directly at the scars across Tia's neck. "How are you feeling?" She asked, ignoring the throbbing in her head that felt like it was getting louder by the second. A small consequence of the magic she had expended today.

Willis scooted closer to Tia, practically leaning down to whisper in her ear. As he did so, he made intense eye contact with the Priestess and whispered, “Don’t you dare tell her about what I’ve done to that boy.” He drew his face away and made a slicing motion across his neck. Then he turned to flash Eris a Brobdingnagian smile.

Eris narrowed her eyes as Willis moved closer to Tia, blocking her view of both his and her facial expressions. He had clearly whispered something, but she couldn't tell what it was. Her eyes searched Tia for an answer, but the Priestess remained unfazed by whatever he had said. When Willis turned to smile at her, Eris could only focus on the dagger-like teeth in his mouth and wondered what the shark was trying to hide.

Tia could only stare up at him, eyes wide, breath too quick. She knew him. Well… she knew his eyes, at least. They glowed in his face, deep-set and haunted, even as he smiled. She knew the shape of his silhouette. She’d seen it in her vision. That pull that she’d felt earlier in the market - she felt it again, now.

Her lips formed a silent word as she looked up at him. It might’ve been ‘blight’. It might’ve been ‘blood’. The difference didn’t seem to matter.

The warmth of Eris’ hand seeped into her own where it held her. Her eyes darted between the man (who had just threatened her life) and the woman (who did not seem to believe her own assurances that they were safe). Tia’s weak grip on Eris’ arm tightened slightly, like this tether was all that kept her from unmooring. But her adrenaline was fading fast. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to reorient herself, and remember past the veil of her prophetic dream.

Dawnhaven. The market. The boy. Her magic, pouring out of her until she was nearly empty. The boy.

Her eyes snapped open to frantically find Eris again.

“The -” Her rasping voice caught in her throat, and Tia coughed, wincing. She tried to swallow, focusing on the muscles in her neck. “Boy,” she tried again, her gaze a mix of hope and fear as she looked up at Eris. “…Alive?”

"Alive," Eris confirmed, a warm smile gracing her lips. "He has you to thank for that."

Still holding Tia's hand, Eris gave it a gentle squeeze. "You should be more careful, though." Her smile faltered for a moment. "We can't afford to lose a powerful healer like you. You're incredibly strong to have survived that..." She wished she could have seen the spectacle of all the energy it took for Tia to keep that boy from dying. It would have been a sight to behold.

Tia let out a long breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Deflating lower into the mattress, her eyes fell closed again as she offered a silent prayer of thanks up to Aelios. It had been reckless. But faced with the child, all his blood, his heartbroken father… what choice had there been? Eyes still closed, she gave a small shake of her head. The world seemed to tilt and sway with the motion.

She opened her eyes again to properly take in her surroundings - the two strangers above her, the decor of the room (because she was inside, she realized, laying in someone’s bed, getting blood all over someone’s sheets). Her gaze stilled on the man - the very dangerous man who had been the cause of the entire scene in the marketplace, and whom Aelios had deemed very important. Why else would Tia have seen him in her vision?

She pressed her lips together, still looking up at the man, searching for what her goddess wanted her to notice. Swallowing carefully, she tried to speak again.

“You.” It was more of a question, really. He was there, at her bedside. Certainly not because he cared, not if his casual disregard for life was any indication. If he’d wanted an easy meal (teeth, wicked and sharp, eyes that glowed and prowled, blood coating him like rainwater after a storm) then she would’ve been dead already. Was he just here to threaten her into silence? Was he trapped here somehow?

Tia’s gaze flicked back to the woman. She paused when she realized her hand was still cocooned in Eris’, held against her arm. Tia had entirely forgotten it was there. Like she’d forgotten how to move, how to flex her muscles to pull away from another person, Tia’s hand lifted away from Eris. The lack of warmth was instant, a chill cutting deeper than just the palm of her hand. She pulled her hand back to her chest, making a self-conscious fist.

“Hello, my name is Willis but you can call me Willy. This is Eris.” Willis said to Tia, pointing at Eris. “What’s your name?”

Eris followed Tia's gaze toward Willis as he introduced himself, noting that the Priestess clearly recognized him. "Her name is Tingara," Eris answered for her, aware of the strain it put on Tia to speak after whatever had caused those scars around her neck. As a devout woman herself, Eris had heard from the Prince that they had a Priestess on the way. When Orion had told her what had happened, and she saw the caravan stationed around the temple, she knew exactly who this blonde woman was.

Tia could only blink in surprise when Eris said her full name. She hadn’t told anyone her full name here, yet. Of course, her transfer to Dawnhaven had gone through official channels, arranged with the Aurelian prince. This woman was someone of stature in Dawnhaven, if she knew who she was - at least, someone who was involved in some official capacity with the prince.

"Can you walk?" Eris directed toward Tia, standing up and offering her hand for support should Tia try to get out of bed. "The hot springs could do you wonders, I bet."

Tia’s eyes flicked back to Willis (Willy? Absolutely not). Looking back at Eris, Tia reached out to her hand. She stopped herself though, when she felt the winter chill against her skin. She saw the blood, long dried, staining her hand. It had left a dusty, rust-colored mark where she’d grabbed Eris’ pale arm.

Carefully wrapping the ruined silk of her sleeves around each hand, Tia pushed on the bed, wincing as she tried to sit up. There was something else there, besides the weariness of over-using her magic. She could feel the ache of bruises on her legs, her waist, her back. What had happened when she’d passed out?

She shook her head slightly at Eris, careful of her balance.

“The prince,” Tia managed as she forced herself to sit. Her voice was faint, vocal chords tiring after so many words in a row.

“Yeah, I was supposed to meet with him after you woke up,” Willis said, rummaging through the closet beside the bed. He flung out random parcels of clothing until he took out a fancy uniform with gold-trimmed pauldrons and ribbons on the chest, trying to match it with his torso. As Willis crumpled it into a pile, he noticed a hard lump in the fold of Orion’s jacket. He made an incision in the cloth and pulled out a beautiful flower-shaped silver pendant from a hidden pocket. “Bingo!”

Fiddling with Orion’s pendant, he marched to the door without looking, cracking it open for Tia and Eris with his foot. “You all head on to the hotspring… give me five minutes alone, okay?” he said to Eris. Willis jammed a nail into the pendant, and it flipped open with a Click!. Inside was a drawing of a smiling brunette waif cradling a child in her arm. Willis ripped the drawing out and stuffed the pendant into his pocket. The paper fluttered to the ground, next to an overturned nightstand, a messy closet, and a destroyed chair.

Eris watched nervously as Willis rifled through Orion's private things, too afraid to scold him in the moment. At least he was distracted with this and not thinking about eating them. She glanced back toward Tia anxiously, torn between leaving Willis alone with her to find the Prince and letting Willis roam free in town in search of the Prince. He didn't even know what the Prince looked like, let alone being trustworthy enough to follow orders. If he was this brazen right in front of them, who knew what he was capable of when not being watched?

"Hey!" Eris blurted out as she saw him rip open a locket and toss a paper to the ground. Swiftly, she picked up the picture and held it safely in her palm. "That isn't yours," she huffed, glaring at Willis with her bright blue eyes, though her heart pounded in her chest at the confrontation. "Give it here, and we will go find the Prince. Together." She said sternly, extending her other hand toward Willis, expecting him to place the pendant there. "We need to help her get on her feet," she added, gesturing toward Tia, her eyes pleading with him to follow her direction.

Tia was too busy focusing on not passing out again to pay much attention to Willis’ immutable instinct to be a menace. A tiny whimper escaped her as she scooted herself to the edge of the bed, forcing long, slow breaths. The world was still out of focus and tilting, and everything still ached.

The winter breeze creeped into the house through the opened door and Tia shivered. Her scarf. It lay in a crusted brown heap on the floor. Tia’s neck was exposed, she realized, her scars on full display. Shame and embarrassment crept up her spine, but she kept herself from covering her neck with her hand - she needed that still to steady herself on the bed, afterall.

She looked up again, to see Willis all but ignoring them as he picked through the house like a vulture with carrion, and Eris growing more and more flustered.

“Willis.” The sound was more of a breeze than a name.

Willis clenched his jaw as he heard Tia calling out his name. A muscle on his cheek twitched. He stared down at Orion’s pendant with a blank look on his face. When he looked back up at Tia, a slow smile crept up his face. “Okay, Tingara. I’ll obey Eris… on one condition.” He narrowed his eyes, dragging them greedily across Tia’s bare neck. Then he closed the door.

“I want to try your blood,” Willis told Tia, slowly running his tongue across his canines.
Tia froze. Her eyes were wide as she looked at Willis, breath shallow in her chest. Panic was sharp as winter snow in her lungs, up her throat, icy and stark. Her vision flashed. She saw his glowing eyes against the night sky. She felt his teeth in her neck, ripping, she felt her blood hot against her flesh, she -

Eris clenched her jaw as Willis asked to feed off the Priestess, her patience running thin with the blight-born. "Do not touch her," Her voice grew sharp, her eyes fixated on Willis. If anyone was going to die today, it wouldn't be the Priestess of Aelios. She had already survived one near-death experience, and Eris would be damned if she let her endure anything more. Pocketing the picture, Eris stepped in front of Tia, blocking Willis's view of her. Fueled by adrenaline, Eris's hands began to glow with a golden yellow hue as she formed ward symbols once more.

This time, in an instant, she placed a shield around Willis. Entrapped by the light of Aelios, Willis could no longer touch them, and nothing could touch him either. "The Prince will hear of this," she declared, glaring at him. "Now, either you cooperate, or you can stay here until we find the Prince." She glanced toward Tia, ignoring how the magic pulled at her core with each passing minute, draining her own life force.

Reality slammed back into Tia when Eris cut off her view of the blight-born. She was light headed, breathing short and quick. Her hands shook where they gripped against the bedsheets, her knuckles white. Fear had wound its way through her chest like a serpent. It poisoned her blood. It stilled her heart.

"Put your arm around my shoulder. I'll help you get to the temple," she said sternly to Tia, shedding her usual shy demeanor as she knelt beside Tia to better assist her. There was a reason Eris was made the Lead Sage despite her soft nature. This side of her rarely surfaced, hidden beneath layers of self-doubt, only emerging when it truly counted.

Tia blinked up at Eris. Her mind was still stained with an oncoming panic-attack, barely held at bay. She could see Willis again, now that Eris had moved to help her. He glowed with a bold display of Eris’ magic - magic that Tia knew she couldn’t afford to waste. She saw it in the tension of the other woman’s shoulders, in the hard bite of her jaw.

Tia numbly followed orders, holding back a wince as she lifted her arm to do as Eris said. As she settled in close, bracing herself to stand, she brought her lips close to Eris’ ear.

“We need him.” There was no voice at all - just breath in the shape of words, nearly imperceptible. Tia didn’t know this man. She didn’t trust him not to cause their deaths on a whim, and she didn’t trust herself not to become a panicking mess in his vicinity. But someone had commanded her, and deemed him important, even if she didn’t know why yet.

“You should listen to Tingara, Eris, and relax. I wasn’t going to hurt either of you. I made Orion a promise,” Willis said behind the sphere of light trapping him in. “Besides, that was a suggestion, not a threat. Now stand back.” Willis raised his fist, squinting one eye shut as her rotated his arm. With a sharp inhale, he cocked his elbow and threw his fist forward against the wall of light. Twin snaps sounded in the air - one from the wall of light as hairline fractures spider-webbed out from the point of impact, and another from Willis himself as his wrist it broke at a sickening angle. Splintered ivory poked out of his flesh, his blood a deep, viscous purple as it oozed out of the wound. Tia's eyes widened at the color.

Willis cursed. With his non-shattered hand, he scooped up a globule of blood and flicked it against the light. Already, the bone in his wrist was starting to realign itself, to tuck itself back into place as flesh knit back together again. With his own blood to mark his target in the middle of the wall's fracture point, Willis readied another blow.

CRACK! His punch shattered the sphere of light into a thousand tiny pieces, his right hand snapping off his wrist from the impact of his blow. “Plus, I don’t threaten people. I just kill them if negotiation fails.” He tossed the pendant to Eris and ran in front of Tia. Kneeling down, he grabbed her legs and hoisted them onto each of his shoulders before standing back up. “So where’s this hot spring?” He turned his head to ask Eris with Tia sitting on his nape. She let out a strangled yelp, arms wrapping around the top of his head for balance.

As the shield shattered, a shockwave of energy reverberated back to Eris. The abrupt disruption of her magic had sent it straight back to Eris like a freight train. Eris gasped and clutched her chest, the air knocked out of her. Though her vision blurred, she stood her ground, silently cursing the sun for disappearing from the sky; had her magic been at full power, Willis likely wouldn't have escaped.

Dizzy, Eris sat down on the bed, her ears ringing, unable to hear whatever Willis was saying. Blinking a few times, she tried to focus on Tia as the blurred image of Willis began to haul the Priestess onto his shoulders. "Wait—" she managed to mumble, fighting the darkness encroaching on her vision. Leaning forward with her head in her hands, Eris felt something trickle from her right nostril. Wiping at it, she looked at her hand. Her nose had begun to bleed.

Tia’s panic was rising. Her eyes widened as she watched Eris nearly collapse on the bed, blood bright against her paling skin. She started rapidly swatting at the top of his head, desperate to be put back down.

---

_{Collab between: Willis @BOOM, Eris @The Muse, and Tia @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

---

---

---

_{…Tin…
......Tiiiin……
…Ga…
......Gaaaaa……
…Ra…
......Raaaaaaaa……}

Her name, whispered in a voiceless breath. It slipped through the skeletons of withered trees. It seeped through the ground like rainwater - like blood.

She couldn’t move. She lay on her back, the earth leaching warmth from her with every crimson drop it claimed. It offered icy numbness in exchange, reaching up to curl around her bones, rooting her into the saturated soil, until all that was left to do was decay.

She was dying.

Her hand was clamped around her throat, trying vainly to keep the life from slipping out of her. It wasn’t going to work. Blood filled her mouth, her lungs, overflowed the tattered remains of her throat as she gasped. But she couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t make a sound.

The night sky above her was littered with light. Stars flowed across her vision, illuminating the darkness with a river of color. Aquamarine, pearl, emerald, lavender. There was no moon in the sky to compete with the galaxy the stars mapped out. No sun. There hadn’t been sun for months.

And so the heavens shined.

_{…Tin…Tiin…}

_{Tiin……Tin…}

_{…Ga…...Gaaaa……}

_{...Gaaaa………Ga…}

_{…Ra…...........Raaaaaaaa………}

_{...........Raaaaaaaa………...Ra…}

Something lurked in the periphery. It stalked a wide arc around her body with silent footfalls. For brief, scattered heartbeats, it flashed through her vision like a wisp of smoke, like droplets of molten gold. She couldn’t see it. But its gaze was heavy as a brand. It burned and blistered where it fell on her skin.

The cloud of stars glittered above her, pinpricks of light shifting one by one. They condensed, holes in the vast net filling in, the color rippling and iridescent. It settled into a violet fog, dense and opaque. It was as unknowable as death. As formidable as the sun.

In the eternal one’s veins…

The voice that whispered to her bent like light, refracting a hundred different ways as it reflected back on her. It was the High Priest’s reedy whisper. Sister Fumi’s chirping rasp. The laughing boom of the soldiers she’d traveled with. The thin murmur of the coachman who’d held her wrist and wished her well.

The writhing nebula fell.

She couldn’t move. Her body was helpless as the fog collapsed over her, billowing out to consume the land. It filled her, replacing the blood that poured out of the gaping wound in her neck. It congealed in her veins, filled her heart until the organ was nothing but a solid mass that pushed the blight through her limbs. It was death. That was all she could think as it warped her, stealing her breath away, burrowing a cavity deep in her gut until all she knew was hunger.

A shape passed over her - a person.

Backlit by the moon, it was nothing but a pair of glowing eyes in a shadowed silhouette.

Seek the violet flow.

It was her mother’s voice. She didn’t know that she’d even remembered the sound of it, before now.

She-

_{…Tin…
......Tiiiin……
…Ga…
......Gaaaaa……
…Ra…
......Raaaaaaaa……}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

---

Gripping Orion’s hand, Willis rose to his feet. “Thanks for giving me a chance, man. My name is Willis, but you can call me Willy.” He pointed a thumb to his chest proudly, as Orion escorted him towards Dawnhaven’s gate. “I owe you big time…”

Orion’s gaze lingered on Willy without responding, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he assessed the man before him. Willy’s posture was open, his hands unclenched and relaxed at his sides. His eyes, though weary, held a clarity that spoke of an inner resolve, a determination that Orion recognized all too well.

It was the look of someone who had seen the darkness but chose to walk towards the light. Or so he thought.

Trust was a currency in short supply in Orion’s world, each coin weighed and measured with the utmost precision. The safety of Dawnhaven, the bastion of hope in a land shadowed by corruption, was his to safeguard. And safeguard it he would, with every fibre of his being, even if it meant keeping his heart shielded behind walls as impenetrable as the magic he wielded.

The forest around them was a living entity, its breaths coming in the form of gentle breezes that rustled the leaves overhead. The moon, a silent sentinel, cast its silver glow through the interlocking branches, creating a mosaic of light and shadow upon the forest floor. It was in these shadows that Orion felt most at home, his Blight-Born nature attuned to the subtleties of the dark.

Orion’s voice, when he finally spoke, was a soft baritone that seemed to blend with the nocturnal hum. “You’ve been on the run for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yeah… they’ve been hunting me like a dog,” Willis said. “I’ve dealt with all of them though, thank Goddess.” He gave Orion a toothy grin, then rolled up his shirt sleeve and slashed his arm with a sharp nail, drawing a nasty cut. Willis’ flesh instantly began to wriggle close, pulled together by some strange purple slime pulsating under his skin. In a heartbeat, the wound was gone.

“Funny how lady fate works. She closes a door for you, but opens another window.” Willis said as he walked beside Orion. “I was originally a Lunarian Ranger, soon to be promoted to Captain. My family was ecstatic. Now they would probably flee or try to kill me on sight for bringing dishonor to the Phillips family.” He spat on the ground. “Well, good riddance. So that’s my sob story…” Willis looked at Orion. “What about you?”

Orion’s silence was a canvas stretched taut with the gravity of his past, each memory a brushstroke of triumph and tragedy. “My story is not so different from yours,” he finally said, his voice a steady current in the stillness of the night. “I was once part of a proud lineage, destined for greatness.” A time when his name was synonymous with honour and potential. A lifetime ago, it felt like to him.

“The blight doesn’t discriminate, however,” Orion continued, the crimson glow of his eyes dimming with the sorrow of remembrance. “It took from me just as it took from you. My family, my position, everything I once held dear—gone.”

The stern blight born paused, a deliberate cessation of sound that gave weight to his confession. “But unlike many, I chose to fight back. Not just for myself, but for others who’ve suffered the same fate.” His gaze turned towards the canopy above, where the moonlight played hide and seek with the leaves. “Dawnhaven is my redemption, my way of ensuring that no one else has to endure what we have.”

Willis whistled under his breath. “Didn’t know you are an idealist at heart! Hahaha… That’s a very noble cause. Can’t say I share the same aspiration but… I admire it.” He squinted at Orion’s pale face, partially hidden by shadows cast from the canopy above. He looked like a real Casanova; a noble’s face with strong jawlines and sharp eyes, handsome enough to get freebies from a brothel. But Willis was drawing a blank on Orion’s identity.

“So… With an ideal this grand, I’m guessing you are very important in town eh?” Willis briefly shifted his gaze to Dawnhaven’s walls as they emerged from a treeline, spotting thin curls of smoke wafting from the chimneys of large stone houses sitting beyond its gate. He heard the peals of church bells, the laughter of children, and the smell of a delicious roast in the air. It seemed Dawnhaven was doing well, in spite of the harsh conditions. He looked back at Orion. “Your majesty? Did you dye your hair?”

Orion’s response came with a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, a wry, knowing curve that softened the severity of his features. “Important, perhaps, but not quite royalty. I am merely a shield, that is all.” His words were a humble deflection, a reminder of his chosen role as protector rather than ruler. “And no, I did not dye my hair. The blight has its own way of marking those it touches.” The smile reached his eyes, igniting them with a flicker of amusement, though it seemed the sarcasm in Willis’s voice had gone unnoticed—or perhaps, it was simply unacknowledged. Who was to say?

“And your aspirations? What are you hoping to achieve here, other than a new life for yourself?”

Willis’ mouth twisted into a strange smile, revealing dagger-like teeth that glinted in the moonlight. “I’m dying of thirst… all the time. Goddess knows what I wouldn’t do for a big mug of virgin blood. I’ll be happy when I can drink as much blood as I can!”

He leveled a crazed gaze at Orion… before erupting in laughter. “Hahaha… I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m hoping to get a job here.” And with a puff of smoke Willis turned into a brown bat, perching himself on Orion’s shoulder. The bat gave Orion a smug grin and said: “Pretty neat ey? Not many can fly like me. Think you can put in a good word for me when I start to apply?”

Orion’s face was a mask of calm, an unreadable fortress that held back the sea of thoughts behind his stoic facade. “Impressive,” he acknowledged, the word measured and deliberate.

Yet, honestly, he’d witnessed far graver sights, beheld transformations wrought by the blight that twisted flesh and spirit alike. Willis’s antics were but a shadow of the horrors Orion had faced and overcome.

“But there’s no need for theatrics,” Orion continued, his words a gentle chiding. His eyes, those deep wells of crimson, held a glint of caution as they observed the bat perched upon his shoulder. It was a look that conveyed understanding yet demanded respect. “Dawnhaven values sincerity and commitment.”

“I am also willing to vouch for you,” he offered. “But at the end of the day, it is not me you have to prove your worth to, but the prince.”

“Thank you so much!” Bat Willis whispered excitedly next to Orion’s ear as they approached the entrance. “I don’t want to keep our prince waiting but… for now I’ll stay in bat-form until I figure out how to make myself presentable first. I’m still sticky with blood.” He explained, eyes darting around. The guards quickly lowered their weapons, leveling a hasty salute at Orion, and swinging open the gates.

Sitting on Orion’s shoulder, the first thing Willis saw upon entering Dawnhaven was a cluster of tents pitched in the middle of the town center, swelling with the noise of mingling buyers and sellers. The marketplace spread into a semi-circle, surrounding a well drilled deep into the ground, with a line of people coming and going to fill up buckets of water.

A small group had gathered off to the side, half a dozen people surrounding a woman with pale hair and long, heavy robes—a scarf wrapped securely around her neck.

Tia, freshly washed and smelling of incense, had finally worked up the nerve to venture into town. She had kept her eyes downcast, feeling the weight of curious looks as she walked along the path. Probably counterproductive. The point of walking through town was to be seen - to let the townsfolk know that the priests of Aelios had not forsaken them, to smile and be warm. But Tia couldn’t find it in herself to do more than put one foot in front of the other, head bowed as she passed the strangers that were now her neighbors.

Until a shy woman, no older than Tia, had stopped her with a hesitant touch and whispered word.

She’d never been very good at turning people away.

It wasn’t long before more followers of Aelios huddled around her, asking her to bless them, pray for them, holding her hands, bowing their heads. It struck Tia then that life here hadn’t been easy for them. She could see it in their tired eyes, the way exhaustion hung from their shoulders like a cloak, even as they kept their backs straight and proud. Tia supposed life hadn’t been easy for anyone, lately. They orbited her like the sun, hopeful for Aelios’ light after months of endless night.

She was kneeling in front of a little boy, offering him a smile as she examined a fresh scrape on his elbow. He reached up, transfixed by her hair. Chubby fingers tugged at the strands, and whisps of blond hair fell in Tia’s eyes. She made a face and blew them to the side as the boy giggled. Tia smiled back at him.

Then her hand gave off a soft, golden glow as she held it against his elbow. Though her magic was buried deeper now, hidden under layers of shadow, it was still simple enough to pull a thin strand of it up to the surface. The boy watched, transfixed, as her skin warmed his own. It cost her more than it should’ve, but Tia breathed through it. She pulled her hand away, and the scrape was gone.

The skin on the back of Tia’s neck prickled. She tensed, eyes unfocusing. She heard a voice whisper… something. It was like a memory and reality at once, the voice drifting over her skin. Then she turned her head to look over her shoulder, towards the source of the odd sensation, to see a man standing at the village entrance, with a… bat?

The bat took off from Orion’s shoulder, sweeping above Tia’s worshippers, and landed on the boy’s head, the momentum slamming him into the ground with a painful crunch! It turned two beady red eyes on Tia as it hovered above the boy, and spoke: “Oh wow! How’d you make your hand glow like that?”

The screams were immediate.

Chaos erupted amongst the small group of Aelios followers, as Tia fell back from her kneeling position onto her rear, eyes wide and a strangled yelp stuck in her throat. The little boy was twitching, facedown in the dirt. Tia’s eyes darted between the boy, the pool of blood growing beneath his head, and the small, talking bat.

The flat end of a shovel swung through the air.

It connected with the bat with a harsh clang!. The boy's father, eyes bulging with panic and fury, sent the bat shooting off of the boy’s head and smashing into a wooden market stand. The chaos began to spread to the market, vendors and shoppers scattering and shouting at the sudden commotion.

Tia, frozen with panic, could only stare at the small hole the bat projectile had created. Then weak gurgling ripped her attention back to the boy. His father, tears already springing to his eyes, knelt by his body, shovel discarded at his side.

Together, Tia and the father flipped the boy over - gasping at his smashed face. His nose, crumpled into his head, was spouting a thick stream of blood, turning his breaths wet and shallow as he struggled to get air. His neck was bent at an unnatural angle as he twitched, eyelids fluttering open and shut erratically. Tia dug as deeply as she could into her well of magic. Heart pounding, she lowered her hands over the boy as they started to glow - softly at first, then brighter until the light was nearly blinding.

A figure jumped out from the smoking wreck of the fruit stand nursing a dangling arm. He was munching on an apple with a cringe on his face. The muscles on his arm rippled in a wave from his shoulder to his fingertips as his bones reknit themselves together with a crackling sound. Willis squinted his eyes, spitting out apple seeds as he scanned the faces of people in the crowd.

“Who the hell hit me??? This town certainly has some strange customs.” He rotated his arm and spotted a flash of gold amongst the throng of people - Tia’s magic. Shrugging, he strode forward, lazily keeping Tia’s followers at bay with one arm as he advanced on her through the crowd.

Orion’s gaze sharpened, the crimson of his eyes seeming to burn with a cold fire as he took in the pandemonium that Willis had set in motion. The transformation from bat to man had been far from discreet, and the resulting chaos tore through the marketplace with the ferocity of a storm. Stalls were overturned, goods scattered, and the air was thick with the cries of dismay and fear.

Willis, nonchalant in the eye of the turmoil, bit into an apple with an air of detachment. His arm, marred moments before, now showed no sign of injury, the flesh knitting together with supernatural speed. He strolled through the disarray, his carefree demeanour a stark contrast to the dread etched on the faces of the townspeople. It was a sight that stirred a rare flicker of anger in Orion’s chest.

With a swiftness born of urgency, Orion cut through the crowd, his presence commanding and resolute. The townsfolk, recognizing the authority in his stride, gave way, their expressions a mix of relief and awe. In moments, he was upon Willis, his hand lashing out with the precision of a hawk snatching its prey. He hoisted Willis into the air, the ease of the action belying the strength it required.

“Enough!” Orion commanded, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo from the very earth beneath their feet. The word was a decree, a line drawn in the sand. “Your actions are reckless and endanger everyone here!” His tone left no room for argument, each word a hammer striking the anvil of order. “Dawnhaven is a sanctuary, not a playground for your whims!” The finality in his statement was a clear warning: such behaviour would not be tolerated, not in this place, not under his watch. Dawnhaven was a haven, and he would keep it so, even if it meant standing against one of his own.

“Oof! Wait, what’s going on-” Willis awkwardly pried loose from Orion’s grip to free himself. Falling backward, he landed on his haunches in a puff of dust. He jumped to his feet, complaining. “Listen man, I saw this blonde girl right, she’s wearing a brown scarf, shooting light from her hands! When I got closer to investigate, someone in the crowd punted me into that fruit stand there, and broke my wing! I don’t know why you are blaming me for this!”

Orion’s chest rose and fell with a measured breath, a silent call for the composure that had always been his ally in times of strife. “Willis,” he addressed the man before him, “Your actions, intentional or not, have caused fear and harm.”

“This town,” Orion continued, his gaze sweeping over the scattered remnants of the marketplace, “is a place where people come to feel safe and in harmony with those like us.” His tone was a reminder, a verbal nudge to Willis’s conscience, urging him to understand the gravity of his misstep. “Your presence here must reflect that respect.” It was a statement that brooked no argument.

“Ah… well… erm…” Willis shrank a little from Orion’s words. He took another look at the people huddling behind Orion, spotting fear and anger in their wide eyes. He smelled blood and heard a soft whimper. A golden glow broke through the ranks to his right. “Damn man… I really messed up huh?” He looks down at his feet, clearing his throat. Then in a tiny voice, he mutters “Sorry”.

The hard lines of Orion’s face eased into a more gentle contour. Willis’s apology, though timid, seemed to bring calm to the charged air that hung over the marketplace. The townspeople’s eyes, once wide with alarm, now flickered with a more cautious curiosity as they regarded the new blight born in the town.

“I suppose…acknowledging your mistake is the first step towards making amends,” Orion acknowledged, his voice a balanced chord of sternness and warmth. It was a statement of fact, an olive branch extended with the promise of redemption.

“Dude, but seriously don’t hoist me into the air again alright? I thought you were gonna give me a hug, not try to kill me!” Willis quickly regained his confidence. “Anyways uh… Oh, look, over there! That’s the glowing girl I was talking about!” He pointed a finger at Tia. “Wow, she’s sitting on blood!”

With a motion that spoke of leadership and assurance, Orion beckoned Willis to accompany him. They approached the injured boy and his father, where Tia, a beacon of healing and hope, continued her work. Her hands, bathed in a soft glow, moved with a grace that seemed to draw the very essence of tranquillity from the air.

Tia focused on the boy, sweat beading on her skin despite the winter chill. Pulling on so much of her magic after months without sunlight was like marching through a blizzard - as hard as she tried to force herself forward, nothing moved as it should’ve. Her magic was weighed down, something frigid and opaque keeping her from what she knew should’ve been within her reach

Realign the bone fragments. Mend the cartilage. Knit the flesh. Fill the veins. Spine, throat, face, brain. Tia spread her magic through his body, searching and repairing him bit by bit. She squinted against her own light, hands shaking as she dug deeper and deeper within herself until she thought she might be hollowed out entirely.

There was a final flash of light…

And then the boy, eyes closed, neck and face mended, still covered in his own crimson blood, inhaled a clear breath.

Tia nearly collapsed where she crouched over him. Her body all but gave out now that the job was done. She caught herself from falling back, pebbles digging into the palms of her shaking hands. Tia tried to swallow. All she could hear was the thundering of her heart and her own heavy breathing. But the boy was breathing, too. That felt like the only thing that mattered.

She felt that prickling on her skin again - a murmuring or caress, or a pull, like a child trying to grab her attention. She turned her head again to look up through the crowd. The stunned villagers seemed to part themselves, clearing a line of sight to Orion and Willis.

Willis marched over to Tia, and smiled at her, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Dried blood clung to his entire body like a dull red paste. “So… we meet again! I was the talking bat, by the way. My name is Willis, but you can call me Willy. Nice to meet ya!” Standing over Tia, Willis moved to grab her hand.

Tia couldn’t help but try to scramble back as he approached, all fangs and blood and the scent of iron. A wave of dizziness hit her as she tried to move. She didn’t get very far - not before a furious voice cut through the crowd.

“You almost killed my boy!” It seemed the father had recovered faster than she had. The shovel went swinging through the air again.

Throwing his leg forward, Willis knocked the shovel out of his hand. It flew into the crowd with a thunk, and a figure fell, clutching their head. In a heart-beat, Willis spun to face the man. “What the hell are you talking about?” Willis snarled at him, spittle flying out of his mouth, landing on the man’s nose. Then he narrowed his eyes at the man. “Wait a minute… are you the guy that tossed me like a ball?”

“I’m the guy that’s gonna put you in the ground!” he shouted back.

“Enough!” Orion’s voice rang out once more, a command that cut through the chaos like a blade. He stepped between Willis and the father, his presence a shield against further violence. “Both of you, stop this foolishness.”

“Hey man, check his arms. If he hit me that hard his arm would be broken.” Willis whispered to Orion.

Orion’s eyes, twin beacons of responsibility, moved with a practiced calm from the father’s flushed face to Willis. “Alright, sir, if you wouldn’t mind showing me your arms?” he asked, directing his attention back to the still red-in-the-face man. The request was framed with the courtesy due to a fellow citizen, yet it carried the unmistakable authority of his office. There was no trace of hostility in his tone, but rather a clear expectation of compliance.

The father, whose anger had been a palpable force just moments before, seemed to recognize the gravity in Orion’s stance. With a reluctant motion that betrayed his simmering frustration, he extended his arms. They were strong, the muscles honed by a life of labour, yet now they trembled slightly with a cocktail of rage and fear.

Orion’s examination was thorough but gentle, his fingers probing with the expertise of one who had seen many battles and tended to many wounds. As he inspected the skin, the tendons, and the muscles, there was a collective holding of breath among the onlookers. But it was as he had suspected; the arms were unmarked, the skin unbroken.

Straightening, Orion turned to address the crowd, his voice now a beacon of reason. “We need to calm down and address what’s important here. This boy needs immediate attention still, and we need to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” The last part he said while glancing at Willis, his eyes only moving back to the irate father a single beat later. “I understand your anger, but attacking Willis won’t solve anything. If anything, you’re likely to just get intro trouble with the guards once they do decide to show up. Let’s focus on healing your son of any other injuries.”

The murmurs of the crowd began to soften, the edges of their fear seemingly dulled by Orion’s steady presence. The man, his face a stormcloud of conflicting emotions, gave a stiff nod. “Fine. But this…thing needs to be watched.”

Orion’s jaw tightened imperceptibly, a subtle sign that the man’s words had stirred something within him.

“Oh, I assure you Willis will be held accountable for his actions today. But let us not forget that ‘thing’ is not the term we use for those who are different and whose human lives had met an untimely end.”

“Wait, so he wasn’t lying about his son being injured?” Willis followed Orion’s gaze and spotted a small child lying in a pool of blood. “Good riddance.”

Meanwhile, Tia had scrambled to the boy, still unconscious (but alive, at least). She only had so much adrenaline left in her system after this absolute nightmare of a day. Dark spots seemed to go in and out of her vision. But still, she tried to pull the boy out of the crossfire of the men. She barely made it a few inches with his body. Where was literally anyone else to help? Stupified by the drama that was playing out, it seemed.

“By the way dude.” Willis looked back at Orion. “I never got around to ask for your name. And it’s getting a little weird to keep vaguely calling you my ‘man’, my ‘bro’, and ‘dude’. So… Can you tell me your name?”

Orion cast a sidelong glance at Willis, his features etched with weariness. “It’s Orion,” he said simply, his focus already shifting back to the immediate task at hand. “And I suggest you refrain from making any more thoughtless comments.” The words were not harsh, but they carried a gravity that underscored the seriousness of the situation. “This boy’s life is hanging in the balance. Do be sure to remind yourself of that.”

Orion’s hand cut through the air then, a silent command for Willis to fall into step behind him. His strides were purposeful as he navigated the space between the scattered remnants of the market and the injured boy. Tia was a gentle presence beside him still.

“Willis, come here,” Orion called over his shoulder, his voice firm yet devoid of anger. It was the tone of a teacher, an elder…a father, imparting a lesson that could only be learned through experience. “It’s important that you see the consequences of your actions, even if unintended, firsthand.”

“Okay okay, I’m here.” Willis stopped in front of Tia, who was clutching onto the bloodied child like his life depended on it. Her hands were bloody and her priest robes were soaked crimson. Willis saw two exhausted, inky dark eyes framed in her smooth delicate face, and her platinum-blonde hair almost blended into her beige skin. She’d wrapped a thick brown scarf around her neck, and congealed blood had turned it into a hard lump. But her hands were not glowing anymore.

“Uh, hey. I just came here to…” He quickly cast a glance at Orion, and gulped, before looking back at Tia. “I came here to apologize for my uncouth behavior. Sorry for um, y’know.” He gestured vaguely at the kid Tia was holding. “Actually, what did I do to him? He doesn’t look injured at all!”

Tia could only stare up at Willis. There was that prickling again, but it was smothered by the exhaustion and buzzing nerves that were still working their way through her body. Backlit by the moon, he was nothing but a pair of glowing eyes in a shadowed silhouette. The ominous sight was enough to give anyone pause - especially one as timid and scarred as Tia. But it seemed she had no energy left to waste on bowing and trembling.

…‘Uncouth?’

He hadn’t insulted her dress at a party, he’d nearly murdered a child.

Even the other one, the one that looked like he’d been carved from marble, had referred to the boy as a ‘consequence’, like his bloody body was an unfortunate mess to be cleaned up. She gave both Orion and Willis a curt look.

“He’ll live,” Tia said, voice as strong as she could manage… which wasn’t very strong at all, considering the state of her vocal chords, and the waves of exhaustion cresting over her. “He -” Tia cut herself off as the words caught in her throat. Her shoulders shook with coughs as her body tried to clear an obstruction that wasn’t there. A bloody sleeve at her mouth, Tia waited for them to subside. The coughs were hollow - she felt hollow, emptied out of magic and energy until all that was left was a gaping, empty chasm that might swallow her whole. She looked back up at the boy’s father. Were there two of him? It seemed like there were two of him, their hazy outlines overlapping with each other.

“I’ll visit tomorrow.” Her voice was a faint shadow, nearly imperceptible. Tia’s magic had scoured his body, looking for breaks and fractures and tears to heal, but brains were tricky things. She wouldn’t know if more magic would be necessary until the boy regained consciousness. Hopefully, by then she’d actually have more magic to give.

“Whoa lady not gonna lie, you look like you are gonna drop dead any second now. Are you alright?” Willis asked in a concerned voice. “Also, I saw your hands glowing earlier. Just who are you?”

It’s just magic, she tried to say as she forced herself to stand. But when she moved her lips, no sound came out. There was only the feeling of air, harsh as it moved through her throat. The whole world seemed to tilt as Tia finally managed to come to her full, unimpressive height.

And then her vision went black and her legs gave out from under her.

“Hey!” Willis performed a leg sweep, knocking her legs into the air, and dove forward to catch her in his arms. They tumbled to the ground. He stood back up hefting Tia in a Princess Carry. “Wow, you got a big ass!”

“Wow, you got a thick skull,” the boy’s father, still looking for any excuse to pick a fight, shouted back.

“I got your son’s savior in my arms and you are still trying to provoke me? You ungrateful piece of horse dung. Y’know what, since you are talking so much crap, why don’t we fight mano-a-bato right here right now? I’ll even go easy on ya, and fight you with one arm holding the priestess!” Willis taunted back, flinging Tia onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, raising a fist at the man.

The last vestiges of Orion’s restraint crumbled as he witnessed Willis’ continued lack of comprehension of the gravity of the situation. With a swift motion, borne of necessity rather than anger, Orion’s hand latched onto Willis’s shoulder. His fingers were unyielding, the force behind them a clear indication of his serious intent. “Control yourself, Willis! I promised you I wouldn’t pick you up, and I plan to keep it. But this isn’t the time or place for a brawl.”

“Agh! I swear this man keeps getting on my nerves… Orion, let's get outta here!” Willis scowled, holding Tia over his head, and stomped the ground, hard. There was a moment of weightlessness as he launched himself straight into the air, making an arc above layers of sun worshippers. He landed on the outskirts, caving the ground into a crater. He shifted Tia into the nook between his armpit, and lifted one leg, then the other, to shake them loose from the ground.

“Over here!” he called out to Orion. Then he turned his gaze to Tia, held horizontally like a log. “Sorry about that! Where do you live?”

If Tia had been conscious enough to answer that, she would’ve died from mortification. Small blessings, then, that she was still thoroughly knocked out.

“ORION!!! COME QUICK! THE PRIESTESS IS DYING!”

“He killed her!” a voice from the crowd gasped.

“Someone find my shovel, I’ll knock him into next week!”

Willis snapped his head up, pinpointing the father in the crowd. “You better pray to the Goddess, I don’t bump into you again,” he snarled.

“A bunch of Lunarian soldiers just came to town, bat boy!” he shouted back. “They were sniffing around the tavern. Looking for you? Here to drag your bony ass to jail for all that blood you’re covered in?”

“Huh. That’s funny… I just killed a bunch of them earlier!” Willis muttered to himself, thumbing his chin with his free hand. “Damn, and I still need to meet with the prince for a job interview!” He sniffed his fingers and licked off the blood there.

With a frustrated sigh, Willis began tapping his foot, waiting impatiently for Orion, causing Tia to sway in his grasp. “I’m gonna need Orion’s advice on dealing with them.”

Orion’s instincts kicked into high gear as he navigated the sea of bodies to reach Willis. The crowd’s anxious whispers swelled around him, but his attention remained laser-focused on the pair before him.

“I know where we can take her to get some rest care. Follow me,” he said to Willis, his voice cutting through the noise with the authority of a seasoned leader. Without waiting for a response, Orion turned on his heel, expecting Willis to fall in step. The small crowd was left behind, still anxious and panicked at the chaos - and the possible death of the sun priestess. Orion led the way with a brisk pace, the path he chose one that wound through the quieter parts of Dawnhaven, away from prying eyes and the buzz of the marketplace. Just the way he liked it.

Orion’s home stood as a testament to his character: unassuming yet resilient, a stone cottage nestled on the outskirts of Dawnhaven, where the clamour of town gave way to tranquil whispers of nature. The garden that embraced the cottage was a patchwork of colours, meticulously cared for, with various herbs and flowers.

As they crossed the threshold, the interior of the cottage welcomed them with the warmth of a hearth long kept. Orion led Willis through the narrow hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking softly under their weight. He ushered them into a small bedroom, where the light of the moon filtered through the gauzy curtain, casting a soft glow over the room.

The bed, modest in size, was adorned with linens that were spotless and inviting, the pillows plump and the blankets folded with care. “Put her here,” Orion instructed.

“Orion, you are rich as hell. Sheeeesh!” Willis whistled. He set Tia down, then paced back and forth around the room. “But actually dude, I’d need your input on this. I heard a group of Lunarian soldiers are at the Dawnhaven tavern… And uh, I’m not exactly on good terms with them. Since, y’know, I murdered a bunch of them on my way here. So I’m going to seize the initiative and kill them all in their sleep, before they realize I’m here too. Whadayathink?”

Turning to face Willis, Orion’s stance was resolute, his arms folding across his chest as he glared down at the man. With the finality of a door closing on any further argument, Orion’s voice, deep and irrevocable, uttered the single word that ended and sealed the conversation.

“No.”

---

_{Collab between: Orion @Qia, Willis @BOOM, and Tia @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

---

---

---

It hadn’t taken long for the Aurelians to finish unloading supplies designated for the temple - once they’d managed to snap themselves out of their stupor, that is. The Blight-Born - Pleiades - had left them all disoriented, like they were buzzing through an anxious fog. The gravity of the situation had settled in with stark clarity. They weren’t just making a trip, delivering cargo to some settlement. They were part of a mission trying to save their kingdom from ruin.

Tia had fluttered around the workers, trying to find a way to help and being waved away each time as they lugged boxes through the new temple to find appropriate storage places. They hadn’t even permitted her to hold open any doors for them. She settled for just staying as out of the way as possible, hands wrapped tightly around the notebook and charcoal she’d been offered. The smooth texture of the cover, the small edge of the charcoal, grounded her to the present as her nerves tried to buzz her apart, atom by atom.

And then finally, the pantries were full, the beds were covered in warm winter blankets, and there was a tall pile of slow-burning logs stacked along the wall of the innermost chamber of the temple, a fire already sending smoke and embers up from a golden dish that sat level with Tia’s chest. The soldiers and attendants all bowed to her before they left, the old coachman taking a moment to pause before her. A weathered, calloused hand gently encircled her wrist. He gave a light squeeze, and Tia nearly burst into tears.

“May the sun’s glory warm you, my lady.”

She could only stare, watching as the Aurelians trickled out of the temple, onto their next task of delivering the remaining supplies to the prince. The door to the temple closed with a heavy thud, echoing through her bones.

Tia was alone.

Tia hadnʻt been alone since… well. She tried to swallow, to clear her ruined throat, even though she knew it wouldn’t work. Her hands tightened painfully against the notebook.

Being alone was dangerous - it meant there was no one to see her fall apart.

In the absence of other people, eyes and ears to see her and judge and define the edges of her personhood, Tia didn’t know how to stop her overwhelming thoughts as they expanded to fill the space, like a surging river overflowing the embankment, like light flooding a field with no trees to cast a shadow. Her shoulders trembled, her body a feeble container for the force of her own emotions. Tia was going to come apart at the seams until she was unrecognizable. It was inevitable.

She wasn’t a person. She was blood, hot and slick as it seeped into the ground. She was strings of ruined flesh, pulled apart and scattered in the wind. She was a voiceless scream, she was smoke and fire and she couldn’t breathe, she was the flash of claws and a field of corpses, she was dyingdyingdying -

A sound like a clap of thunder jolted Tia back together with a gasp.

She was on the ground, curled in on herself like she could hide from her reality. She didn’t know how she’d gotten there. Her knuckles were white, slender fingers curled painfully tight around the hard material of the book. The charcoal had slipped from her grasp, now laying on the floor - the source of the sound. Her other hand had slipped under her scarf, nails digging into the smooth bumps and valleys of her scar.

She forced a shaking breath in, air catching in the tatters of her throat. She forced her fingers from her neck. When she pulled her hand from under her scarf, the edge of her nails were tiny sickles of red. Tia flexed her trembling hand. She sniffled. When had she started crying?

She was tired. That was it. Just travel-worn and overwhelmed from the weight of her responsibility here exhausted, and -

And she hadn’t been that close to a Blight-Born since she’d gotten her scars. She looked down at the book, still held tight in her hand. She looked at the small charcoal on the temple floor.

Another breath in.

Tia ran a hand through her pale hair, messy and falling out of the bun she’d tried to force it into.

She couldn’t just sit here, pathetic on the floor. Even though she desperately wanted to. A wash, she decided. She would feel better without the weight of travel clinging to her skin. Then she could bless the temple grounds, burn the incense - do the work that was expected of her. Tia didn’t know how she was going to manage it. She supposed she didn’t have a choice, though. Not when so much was at stake. A shaking hand brushed the fresh tears from her cheeks.

Then Tia retrieved the charcoal and forced herself back to her feet. She was the Sun Priestess of Dawnhaven once more.

---

_{Interactions: Pleiades @The Savant, Flynn @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Hi everyone! I realized that I only introduced myself on the discord and not here, so I’m just some rando who showed up if you’re not on discord lol. Nice to meet you all! I will be playing the totally normal and well-adjusted sun priestess that was not at all sent here with ulterior motives. If you’d like to have an interaction with her then I’m totally game, but if you’re tied up in your scenes already then no worries. Excited to write with everyone!

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

---

---

---

"This is of grave importance, child." The High Priest of Aurelia stood before Tia for the first time in nearly a month, his voice a balm as it washed over her - even as his words squeezed vice-like around her heart. "We can trust no one else."

Tingara Tomae, sun priestess, daughter of Aelios, servant of Aurelia, sat refined and demur within the gilded carriage as it trundled down the path to Dawnhaven. And if there were still traces of salt on her cheeks, hastily wiped away before they could dry in tracks below her eyes, well... there was no one to see it, anyway. She tightened her shaking hands in her lap and forced herself to breathe as deeply as she could. The air caught in her ruined throat.

Tia squeezed her eyes shut, willing away another wave of emotion that built in her chest. She'd spent the journey unmoving, as if she could hold very still and freeze her emotions in place, as if she could turn herself to stone, resilient against the torrent that always seemed to swirl around her.

She was not a wailing child anymore, underfed and touch starved and desperate for a kind word. She would serve, as she was tasked.

And one day, when she returned to the capital, perhaps the High Priest would look upon her with pride again. Perhaps he would not frown at the shredded rasp of her voice. Perhaps his eyes would not narrow when someone whispered sun-touched or chosen or morning's daughter when they saw her pale hair and gruesome scars.

"My son is stubborn and prideful, with delusions of righteousness," the queen said as she lounged in her high-backed chair. "He will likely regard you with some suspicion as a member of the clergy. Make your perfunctory introductions, and then stay out of his way. Make yourself useful in the settlement, serve, heal, comfort its people - the prince will come to you, eventually." Tia kept her eyes downcast as she heard the shifting of the queen's gown, the slight tinkling of her jewelry as she stood and approached.

"He does love a project."

"My lady," a voice called from outside the carriage - the coachman. "We approach Dawnhaven." The gasp that escaped Tia was involuntary, as she tried to rein in her despair at being sent away again, cast aside, a disappointment, useless -

"Shall we first make for the royal residence?" He was an older gentleman, peering through the thin window at the front of the carriage with pale, watery eyes. His eyebrows pulled together the slightest bit as he looked at her, and Tia wondered what he saw.

She shook her head in answer.

The coachman pressed his lips together. Then nodded.

"To the temple, then."

Soon enough, the sounds of civilization trickled into the carriage, commerce and creation and life. She heard more than a few mutterings as she passed, their party no doubt drawing attention. Tia hadn't been given a choice in this matter. She'd been placed in a grand carriage with attendants, riders, and guards - nearly a dozen total - surrounding her on all sides in a grand procession. They'd even stopped an hour outside of the settlement so that the horses could be cleaned and the carriage polished until it shined under the moon's light.

'Befitting your station,' the High Priest had assured her before she'd left. 'It wouldn't do to have a member of the clergy arrive like some wayward pauper.'

Those she'd traveled with would all leave once they'd delivered her. Then Tia would be alone again.

"Let them see your scars," the queen commanded. Tia forced herself to still, to not flinch as manicured nails traced the raised flesh of her throat. Her breath froze in her lungs. "Remind them of what's at stake."

The carriage finally drew to a stop outside the small, hastily-built temple to Aelios. Tia steeled herself as an attendant opened the door to the carriage. She took his offered hand, her fingers tightening around his warmth as he steadied her.

The first time the citizens of Dawnhaven saw Sun Priestess Tingara, her head was high, and her eyes were clear as snow flakes disappeared against the fair halo of her hair. Her scarf was clutched tightly around her collar, scars hidden from view.

After months of darkness, the sun's pale light had finally reached Dawnhaven.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

The Winter Princess

Amaya Selu

Human ~ 24 ~ Lunaris ~ Princess

Appearance
The famed Winter Blossom of Lunaris, Amaya is a refined little thing. Her eyes, wide and blue, are pale against the tawny brown of her skin; her full lips are always painted a blushing red; and her curling, chestnut hair is always artfully arranged, inlaid with fine jewels that sparkle as she moves through the world. Amaya knows well the disarming effect of beauty - the trappings and advantages of femininity. She is loath to let anyone see her in anything less than pristine condition, and spends ample time and attention on her appearance.

Magic
While Amaya received training in all Lunarian magic as expected of the Crown Princess, she didn’t take to any of them quite like she took to water. How it flowed and reshaped the very earth around it, the elegant geometry of its crystallization, the sheer undeniable force of it… Amaya was captivated. She was especially talented in the manipulation of snow and ice, what with the abundance coating the Lunarian landscape. While she became a powerful water mage in her own right, the moon’s dominance in the sky has increased her magic to a startling degree. She’s often caught off guard by her magic nowadays, and has had to return to basics to try and force her abilities back under control.

History
Amaya is the only child of the King and Queen of Lunaris - something her father has never forgiven her for. Had she been born a son, had she been given a brother, had she lacked some other, unknowable deficiency that he found so offensive, perhaps her childhood would have been different. Maybe she would’ve adopted her mother’s warmth as her own. As it was, Amaya grew up guarded, lonely, stubborn, and desperate to prove herself.

She wasn’t a fool - she liked to think she was very clever, in fact. She knew that as much as the King would’ve preferred to simply live forever and never have to bother with Amaya succeeding him, he didn’t have a choice - she was his heir, and his only option. What was he going to do, name his drunk of a brother as heir? Or her cousin, who could barely read a map without getting lost in his own mind? No, it was either Amaya or a succession crisis, tainting his legacy forever.

Still, it was only through the pleading of the Queen, that Amaya was permitted to receive the education expected for the heir to the Lunarian throne. Amaya devoted herself to her studies - statecraft, geography, languages, history, even warfare and battle strategies should the border with Aurelia become contentious during her reign. But while she excelled in academic settings, she had a severe lack of practical experience. She barely knew her kingdom, kept as she was within the expansive castle walls. Her father barred her from council meetings. His advisors and the other nobles refused to speak with her about matters of state, lest they draw the King’s ire.

But Amaya quickly learned there were other ways to play the political game - with doe eyes, and a sweet smile. She learned to charm her way through conversations with the noblemen and their gossiping wives, using her demure femininity to draw out information about the state of her kingdom, bit by bit. And while there were somethings they kept from her - the true severity of the blight, the proposals to begin human sacrifices, the growing unrest and risk of riots just outside the castle walls that she never crossed - Amaya found ways to coyly manipulate and influence the decisions that went on behind closed doors, through flattery and sweetness.

Amaya was determined to become a worthy queen. She would be compassionate, and fair, and wise, and her father’s corpse would freeze in his marble tomb as he watched his detestable daughter rule Lunaris from beyond the moon’s gaze.

And then the sun disappeared, the Prince of Aurelia proposed, and all Amaya’s preparation and planning shattered like ice. Dawnhaven has seen a very different Princess - one cool and distant, with a carefully constructed mask to cover a deep sense of helplessness and frustration. The added news of her beloved mother’s death and her father’s swift remarriage has only thrown her into further turmoil. The pièce de résistance though, is that her father’s new wife is already with child - and for the first time in Amaya’s life, she is truly replaceable.

The Scarred Priestess

Tingara "Tia" Tomae

Human ~ 28 ~ Aurelia ~ Priestess

Appearance
Tia knows she draws attention - she always has. With delicate features, eyes as dark as the night sky, and a quiet, meditative air about her, Tia is the picture of pious wisdom and mystique. She’s shorter than average, and slender beneath the layers of her priestess robes.

But in recent months, Tia has had to come to terms with her two new defining features: the first is her shock of blonde hair, so pale it’s almost white, and unrecognizable from the black hair she was born with. While just as long and thick as before, the stark transformation has been the topic of rumor and gossip amongst more idle members of the clergy.

And then there are her scars. Fresh and pink, they are a raised landscape sprawling across her neck, a gruesome reminder of trauma that most are too nervous or polite to ask about - but that doesn’t keep them from staring. While before Tia ignored the stares of others, (even found some small, decidedly unpious pride in them) now she finds herself shrinking away from crowds, their gazes heavy on her throat. Beneath the scars, her vocal cords are a mangled mess. Her voice, once smooth and clear, is now a weak rasp, and she finds it strenuous to speak more than a few words at once.

Magic
Once regarded as the most promising healer of her generation, Tia has felt the depletion of her magic as harshly as her fellow Aurelians. But while her ability to mend, ease, and cure earned her quite the reputation amongst the common folk, few know of another ability she has been fostering - Tia has the gift of prophesy. She’s been instructed to keep this power hidden as she learns to develop it, but it’s certainly caught the attention of those higher in the Aurelian clergy.

History
Tingara Tomae was born hungry. The seventh child of a poor family in a village that may as well have been an accidental smudge on the Aurelian map, Tia was always fed last. With too many mouths and too little food, it was decided that her siblings - older, sturdier, with a better chance of seeing their next years - would be given priority.

It should’ve been no surprise then, that when her parents finally gave up on the idea of keeping all of their children, Tia was the first to go. But it shattered her, all the same.

‘Go, my little beetle. They can care for you better than we can.’

Tia was given to the church of a neighboring village, and the priests and priestesses set to work molding her into a respectable member of the clergy. They taught her to read using their scriptures, they made sure she had enough to eat after she’d given proper offerings to Aelios, and they disciplined her thoroughly whenever she so much as rolled her eyes at their repeated instructions to ‘Sit up straight Tingara, you are not a stalk of grain bending in the wind.’

It was when she showed an aptitude for healing though, that she first felt their approval like the warmth of sunlight on her cheeks. She had prodigious talent, an unending well of power to draw from, and an innate understanding of the many systems that made up the human body. She nearly sobbed with delight when, after healing a man’s shattered hand, Sister Fumi put an arthritic palm to Tia’s cheek and murmured, ‘Well done, child.’

She never heard those words from Sister Fumi again. The next day, Tia was to be carted away to the Aurelian capitol. She screamed as they forced her into the carriage, tears burning tracks down the skin of her cheeks as she fought against the priests trying to rip her from her home again -

Sister Fumi slapped her across the face. The air seemed to freeze in Tia’s lungs.

‘You embarrass us and you shame Aelios. Go. They can care for you better than we can.’

The years passed in a blur at the capitol. Tia never went hungry. Her magic was nurtured and her studies never suffered. She joined the older priests on missions throughout the city, bringing Aelios’ light to the sick and injured and collecting tithes from those who offered as payment. She pretended not to notice when the high priests began whispering words like promise and legacy and potential when they thought she couldn’t hear. Hope gripped her heart - and fear.

But when she awoke with a gasp one night, drenched in sweat, and frantic with dreams of unending darkness - when two days later, the sun didn’t rise - that was when the whispers became declarations. Tia was brought before the high priest of the Aurelian church, a dour old man who seemed to see through her without looking.

‘My child,’ he’d murmured. He’d clasped her hand and smiled at her, and Tia swore she didn’t need the sun to ride again - not when she had this light beaming at her, filling her soul until she glowed. ‘You’re home.’

And thus it was decided that the high priest would take Tia on as his protege in secret, quietly grooming her to take his place at the head of the church when the time came, and refining her gift of prophesy. Tia excelled under his tutelage, even with the disappearance of the sun slowly draining her magic. The high priest stressed the importance of being amongst the people, aiding the needy at every opportunity so they might grow accustomed and fond of her. She was a woman, from an impoverished border village, with uncommon features - the people of Aurelia would need to be on her side when the time came for her to take her place as High Priestess, whenever that may be.

Tia drank in his praise like water, desperate for approval, affection - any sign that she would be kept, this time. Perhaps that is what led her into more and more dangerous territory.

Against the requests of the clergy, Tia joined a scouting mission of three soldiers and a ranger, venturing out into the outskirts of blighted territory in search of survivors. She doesn’t remember much - a cart carrying a handful of survivors, freshly healed. A bone-deep weariness after struggling to pull her magic to the surface again and again. A shout. The flash of fangs and glowing blood-red eyes. A scream - hers? No, that wasn’t possible, not when her throat was burning, filled with something hot and sticky, coming up through her mouth, spelling onto the muddied silk of her robes, and -

Numbness. The inky, sunless sky littered with stars above. Her hand slick with her own blood as she tried desperately to hold the shredded remains of her throat together. And then a light so blinding and pale she’d almost thought the sun had risen again.

When she finally woke up hours later, was on the ground, covered in her own blood, and surrounded by bodies. Her hand was nearly melded to her throat, it was so coated with dried, flaking blood. Tia felt a scream building in her chest, terror reaching a boiling point as she looked around at the corpses of the soldiers, the ranger, the people she’d healed not hours ago… But when she screamed, nothing but a strangled, breathy rasp came out, her vocal cords scratching together like gravel.

Tia, half dead and delirious with grief, eventually managed to walk back to the nearest outpost. The soldiers nearly killed her on sight, thinking she’d become blighted herself. It was only when Tia saw herself in the washroom mirror that she understood - the scars were ugly and fresh on her neck, an imperfect and desperate heal as she’d laid dying and drained. Her hair, once raven black, had bleached to a blonde so pale it was nearly white.

The high priest’s disappointment was like dying all over again. A voiceless priestess couldn’t conduct a sermon - she couldn’t inspire, she couldn’t recite scripture, she couldn’t lead. Tia couldn’t lose him, lose home again, she was so stupid and useless and she was going to be alone and -

‘My child… the church may have a use for you, yet.’

And so, Tia finds herself traveling to Dawnhaven. She has been tasked with a sacred duty for the good of Aurelia, and she will not fail the high priest. Not again.

Pokemon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

hello here i am again

Pokemon: Hoenn - Make a Wish

well, i can't say i'm not interested