c3p-0h

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Inn}

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Pretty words, pretty words, this strange man on the ground had sweet nothings to spare. His voice was smooth and lilting, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at her.

It’s not real, she reminded herself. Even still, her heart rate seemed to jump. The skin of her cheeks warmed despite her placid expression.

He was pointedly ignoring the blightborn woman, eyes growing a little sharper, smile a little tenser. Something faltered in Amaya. He seemed disgusted by her very presence rather than heartened at the show of acceptance. Had… had she guessed wrong? Reading people had been her one skill in the palace as far as actual statecraft had gone — or at least, the one skill she’d been able to hone at all. Locked away as she’d been, Amaya had been denied any opportunity to practice the theory she learned in her lessons. She knew she was untested. But she’d thought when it came to individuals, at least…

And then that saccharine smile was aimed at her again, with his smooth voice and flowing words (Not for me, it’s not for me, I don’t matter, he just wants something) and a hand lifted towards her, open palmed.

Another body joined the crowd of people surrounding her. Guards, and good samaritans, and strangers with unfamiliar faces seemed to press in around her as frost gathered at her fingertips. The lack of walls around her suddenly felt dangerous, like she might drown in all the empty, boundless space. She was small and voiceless in a sea of people who expected her to be a princess, when she’d never been taught the role beyond a description she could read in a tome. Breath billowed out of her in a white fog. Fighting to keep her expression calm, Amaya looked up to find Elara, desperate for an anchor.

And then a familiar scent wafted over her: cologne. One that she’d learned to recognize over the past two months without realizing it, apparently.

It was the only warning she had before there was a slight pressure at the dip of her back. When she turned her head, it was to find green eyes. Flynn stood at her side. He was closer than was proper — but no, that wasn’t correct, was it? They were married. The ring heavy around her finger, counterpart to the one he wore, proved it. Who would tell him, Prince and Husband, that he could not be at his wife’s side? His warmth seeped into her at the proximity. And when he spoke, voice soft, head tilted down so he seemed to again wrap Amaya in his shadow —

I’ll be back for you.

He was gone before she could even grasp what was happening. The space at her side was suddenly cold, the air sucked out of Amaya’s lungs. It didn’t quite feel like abandonment.

And then Amaya forced herself back to the situation at hand. She was still surrounded by strangers. The disarming man was still on the ground, hand outstretched. Flynn — his sudden arrival, his departure, his soft voice — was irrelevant to the current situation. That he’d all but dragged her to this event only to then leave without her was simply another matter to deal with at a more convenient time.

He’ll be back. He said he’d be back.

Why did it matter what he said? More importantly, when had Amaya ever trusted in a man’s word without regretting it?

There was yet another body amongst the crowd — the smiling man with pale, piercing eyes. And immediately Amaya slammed her defenses back in place. Her poise was impeccable. Her expression was pleasant, if aloof. She’d been relieved to hear a note of caution in Elara’s voice when she’d addressed the injured man — distrust didn’t come naturally to Elara, a trait Amaya both envied and worried over. She glanced at her handmaiden, hoping to steady herself with the familiar presence. Amaya wanted to leave this suffocating crowd. But she wouldn’t leave Elara here.

Then again, her friend would probably be fine if she did. Amaya had always been the one out of place and unsure in a crowd.

She steeled herself. She would not run. Not after Flynn, not from the smiling man, not from the man on the ground. Instead she forced a soft smile on her face.

“The temple would welcome you, certainly,” she finally replied. She looked to the other newcomer — an unkempt man in too few layers for the frigid air. “Perhaps you could assist him there, if you’d like to help.”

Amaya looked down at the man on the ground. It was not her place, she knew to assist him to his feet. And she certainly didn’t want to approach him, with his honeyed words and sharp smile. With that heartbroken look he’d given her. She could simply order a guard to assist him. Her father wouldn’t have even entertained this exchange for as long as she had.

But her mother would’ve helped him to his feet.

Amaya hesitated a moment. Then she placed her hand in his to try and pull him up.

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Inn}

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There was a sharp spike of anger in Amaya’s chest at how he spoke to Elara – but at least she’d backed away from him slightly, even if the space between their bodies still seemed too narrow for comfort.

Then he turned all the charm he seemed to possess onto Amaya. Few had dared to ever be so forward with her. She froze, eyes trapped by his, as he spun pretty, empty words. Amaya couldn’t look away. Her cheeks began to heat.

A face flashed through her mind. The last — the only — person who’d tried to wrap Amaya in sweet nothings. A young man, little more than a boy really, though he’d been older than her at the time. Dark hair, and amber eyes. He’d been so startlingly fair, his skin like milk against her own.

Then a wall of ice slammed down around the memory.

Their eye contact was broken when the healer finally appeared. A distraction. Amaya’s eyelashes fluttered, her breathing quick and shallow. The seams of her heart, shattered edges that she’d worked so hard to fit together again, ached with an old, fragile pain. Shameful.

She swallowed. Her eyes unfocused as she retreated inwards, trying to pull herself back together. She was still in public, she couldn’t keep being so sloppy. Amaya had been good at this once — she’d mastered her role, learned how to use it to her advantage when everyone else seemed set on keeping her locked away. Amaya had been barred from all matters of state — so she’d learned to study people, instead.

She forced that bitter pain, the shame, the naive hope, away. Her eyes refocused.

The man was all but scrambling away from the healer. His pretty words, thick with allure, were a far cry from how he acted now. Because they’d been false. A means to some end. Every time. It was never about her, because she never mattered, not in the face of whatever it was they actually wanted. His face flashed in her mind. How broken he’d seemed in the moment he realized who she was — or wasn’t. Amaya forced herself to put another unnamable hurt away.

The way he was vacillating so wildly – hope, to anguish, to anger, to charm, to fear… this was a man flailing. Desperate. For what? Was it merely the impending dread of the end of the world, pulling him taut? Amaya didn’t think she could blame him, if so. But… why refuse healing? Pride? No, he acted as though this new woman, white haired like Elara and just as slight, was more threatening than the risk of infection. And it did look infected, what little she’d seen of it.

Amaya felt her shoulders stiffen as she watched him. The way the skin around his eyes tightened, even as he kept his charming smile. Tension was building like a storm on the horizon. When it finally broke, perhaps he’d just hobble off in a fit of annoyance. Or perhaps he’d snap in other ways. The building swell of her magic answered her nerves, minuscule crystals forming along her fingertips.

Elara’s gentle voice carried through the air, drawing everyone’s attention. And suddenly the need to act, to diffuse this man, was immediate.

“Or perhaps,” she said, answering his soft smile with one of her own, “if you will not allow healing, you’ll accept some other comfort.” What did he want? He didn’t want healing. He’d snapped at Elara just for helping him to his seat. He didn’t want anything from Amaya based on that heartbroken look he’d given her… but then why come up to her at all?

A mistake, she reminded herself bitterly.

“And I won’t hear another word about my supposed ‘radiance’. If it inspires such foolishness as ‘crawling through blight’ then perhaps your road to recovery is best paved without my involvement.” Her tone was light, a faux sternness to it. It was a familiar voice, one she’d used countless times with the members of her father’s cabinet when they thought they were simply teasing her. Slowly, atrophied muscles were reawakening.

Amaya thought back to that flicker of hope the man had, the moment before his face had crumpled… she hadn’t been whatever he’d expected. But Amaya was… Amaya. Well, Amaya wasn’t who mattered. But she was the only Princess in Dawnhaven as far as she knew, and that meant she tended to be recognized by the citizenry here, even if she hardly ventured out amongst the people. Even if most of Lunaris hardly knew anything about her. But this man… no, he’d had no idea who she was until he’d gotten close. As far as she could tell, he still didn’t realize who she was. He was new to the settlement.

“It’s a day of celebration — if you insist on attending, you should at least keep yourself from aggravating your injury any more.”

That ‘wild dog bite’ as he’d called it (even Elara hadn’t managed to keep the skepticism from her voice) hadn’t looked fresh. Had he arrived just before the storm, and been locked away with the festering wound? For a week? No, it would’ve been crippling by now.

He’d just arrived in Dawnhaven. He was desperate. He had an injury that he shouldn’t have been able to walk on. He didn’t want anyone examining his body.

Amaya blinked. She looked at him with new eyes. He looked like an ordinary human, if a bit strung out. But a theory clicked into place. She cast her gaze about the crowd.

“Excuse me,” she said, barely raising her voice. But still, the call carried, and the woman Amaya was looking at turned to face them. It was one of the employees of the inn, holding three empty tankards in one hand and on her way back towards the door. Her eyes glowed lime green, three small horns poking out from a short crop of hair.

The blightborn woman blinked as she realized who was calling for her. Then her eyes widened and she all but ran over to the little group. Amaya hid her hand in the folds of her skirt, fingers curling into a tight fist. The ice crystals melted away under the pressure of her own slight body heat.

Amaya gave the gentlest smile she could muster. Uncurling her fingers she reached out to lightly grip the woman’s free hand. It was a warm gesture to anyone who didn’t know Amaya, and the careful distance she kept from most people. Amaya was proud at least that she’d kept herself from flinching, her smile still steady on her face. She had never even touched a blightborn before. But everything was always easier when it was part of a calculation — when she could pretend it was someone else, and Amaya had simply disappeared.

“I apologize for the interruption, but would it be possible to get… a cushion perhaps, or blanket?” She turned her face to look back at the man, her hand still on the woman’s. “Would that be amenable to you? We could leave you be with some cushioning for your leg, at least.” It didn’t matter what he said, or wanted, as long as he saw Amaya with this woman — perhaps that would unwind some of his volatility. Perhaps he wouldn’t act so desperately if he didn’t think he was going to be hunted in the streets.

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_{Interaction: Elara Moonshadow @Qia, Vellion Hurst @Dark Light, Aurora Halliwell @BlackRoseSiren}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Inn}

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It wasn’t a moment after Elara left Amaya’s side that a stranger filled the space. Amaya had to crane her neck to look up at him, looming above her like an evergreen. It was the second time this morning she’d found herself in a man’s shadow – and the second time a man’s sudden approach set her on edge.

He looked at her with such… anguish. Like she’d broken some part of him, simply by not being what he’d hoped for. It cut through Amaya, freezing the blood in her veins. Even as he seemed to put that part of himself away, smothering his panic with something more expressionless, Amaya was still captivated by his eyes – and how desperate he seemed to want something from her that she didn’t know how to give.

His smile was charming. And hollow. She knew the shape of it like it was her own.

And then with a shout he was crumbling in on himself. Amaya pulled away instinctively, gasping to her feet. At the same time, Elara jumped forward, helping to steady him and sit him down on a stool.

Elara, with all her quiet compassion and patience, whose first instinct always seemed to be to move towards those in need. Not Amaya, though – no, where Elara moved to embrace, Amaya withdrew, always looking for who she needed to guard herself against. And something about this man set her on edge.

There was the clatter of armor, as a few guards standing at the perimeter of the square hurried towards their Princess, in the face of some potential threat. But Amaya glanced at them, her hand raising slightly at her side. Amaya would not be the source of a commotion, not on her first real outing amongst the public, and certainly not after she’d assured Flynn that she could be left alone. The guards stilled. Then they approached at a more casual pace, stopping when they were close enough to act, should they be commanded.

“Perhaps some space would be best,” Amaya said, her fingers touching the side of Elara’s arm lightly, over the thick cloth of her sleeve – a quiet signal to step back. She wanted Elara away from this man. “So that a healer might see to him properly.” She met the eyes of the nearest guard. He gave her a short nod, then turned towards the inn in search of someone who could provide care.

Flicking her gaze back to the man, Amaya looked him over. Her magic seemed to rise in her chest, awakening bit by bit. Something about this man, his demeanor, didn’t add up. The way he’d looked at her. How his entire expression had dropped, like he was a puppet whose strings had been cut. How suddenly he’d collapsed, revealing an angry, fetid injury that even now he tried to hide. Amaya couldn’t get a good look at it, but even still she could tell it was something garish, all slow oozing blood and colorful flesh. How had he even walked on it?

“You must be in tremendous pain,” Amaya said, soft and soothing. But she caught Elara’s eye for a heartbeat. And then she slipped back into her role again. “I assure you, the feast was not so important that you needed to risk further injury to yourself to attend.” Her mouth quirked up into a half-smile, practiced humor staining her voice, even as she looked on with an expression of concern.

* * * * *

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_{Location: Inside the Inn}

The guard entered the inn, pausing as he saw some sort of performance taking up everyone’s attention. He glanced around, eyes scanning for someone familiar, but it was difficult to move about the crowd without disturbing the festivities. Finally he settled on approaching a large Aurelian man with a red nose, tilting in his seat and oddly entertained by the show.

“Is there a healer in the vicinity?” the guard said in a low voice, trying to not disturb the performance or draw too much attention. “No cause for concern, but there’s been an incident outside.”

The man looked up at the guard, seemingly annoyed at having his attention pulled. He shrugged.

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_{Interaction: Elara Moonshadow @Qia, Vellion Hurst @Dark Light, Aurora Halliwell @BlackRoseSiren}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Hot Springs}

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Tia’s eyebrows drew together as her magic searched and spread through the nobleman’s body. He was… fine.

Well, maybe ‘fine’ was not the appropriate word. He was still clearly distraught. And loud. And each successive word out of his mouth seemed to only incite the blightborn women more and more. But there was no wound to heal – nothing for her waning magic to fix.

Then his hand gripped around her arm, just as her hand had around his. Tia froze, cutting off the flow of her magic. She looked up at him. He wasn’t looking back.

Then, in a bizarre turn of events, he pulled himself out of the pool and walked forward in a trance. Tia scrambled backwards to get out of his way. Her confused gaze met Orion’s, where he stood between the humans and blightborn. Tia’s eyes darted back to the nobleman though, when he spoke in a monotone voice, distant and entranced.

…‘Aelios?’

Was… was he having a vision?

Tia could only watch, breath caught in her throat at the sight of this odd man. If he was having a vision too… if Tia had some way to verify that the visions she’d been having were true, and –

The noble slammed his head into a wooden pole, breaking his trance. Then he was back to being… ‘awful’ wasn’t a very kind word to use. Distressing? Afflictive? Tia found herself looking back at Orion, if only to verify that someone else was also experiencing this scene.

But instead of Orion, it was Sya that met her eyes, her new serpentine body weaving its way out of the water to descend on Tia. Before she could even register what was happening, she was trapped in the heavy coil of Sya’s drenched tail, the innkeeper’s arms thrown around her frame as she sobbed into Tia’s robes.

Panic was thick in her chest, the overwhelming feeling that she was prey, trapped and helpless against the weight of Sya’s tail – but something stilled in her at the sound of Sya’s crying. The fear began to melt away.

Still held in place, Tia tried to twist her neck to look over at Sya, where she’d all but collapsed into her. Her words were a mess of heartbreak and frustration, and all Tia could do was give her the space to let it out. She raised a tentative hand to place it on the back of Sya’s head, combing her fingers through the woman’s damp hair. The babble of words washed over Tia and her heart clenched. She leaned more into Sya’s hold, offering what silent comfort she could.

When the innkeeper had finally composed herself enough to pull away from her, Tia offered her a small, encouraging smile. She reached a hand up to cup Sya’s cheek, swiping away a tear with her thumb.

Her robes were damp where Sya’s tail unwound, but at least it seemed she was draped in enough fabric that the water and chill hadn’t reached Tia’s body yet. She’d have to change before heading out into the town proper.

She looked up again, taking in the scene one more time to ensure that disaster had truly been averted – only to freeze when she saw a figure in the distance.

It was a familiar silhouette: layered robes, blonde hair blowing like wisps in the wind. It was distorted, though. There were shapes that did not belong. Horns. A flicking tail. But Tia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the figure. She couldn’t stop the way emotion clawed up her ruined throat, or how tears were sudden and warm in her eyes.

She’d been right. This specter from her past, this echo of shame and heartbreak and failure had followed her to Dawnhaven.

Was she real?

Tia didn’t dare take her eyes off of her, lest the figure disappear, another vision that Tia didn’t know how to trust. Her body started to move on its own. Step after spellbound step, she walked through the snow towards the last person she’d expected to see in Dawnhaven. And then finally, after a lifetime of walking, Tia stood in front of the young woman she’d promised to train and guide before abandoning.

She looked the same in so many ways, like no time had passed at all. And Tia supposed none had. Two months shouldn’t have had much impact on either woman – and yet both were so different from how they last knew each other. One voiceless and sun-bleached, the other twisted and inhuman. Both unable to recognize their own reflections.

The stars stayed anchored in the sky. The hand that reached towards the figure was her own.

Her lips moved to form Ranni’s name, even as no sound escaped her.

Her trembling fingers finally reached Ranni’s cheek, warm, and soft, and real.

Something shattered in Tia as it finally sank in that this wasn’t a vision. She didn’t know how or why, but Ranni was here. However it happened, it’d been traumatic – her new blightborn traits were evidence enough of that. And where was Dyna? Tia had rarely seen the twins apart, Dyna acting as their watchful shadow as they’d moved through the capital.

Tears finally rolled down her face as she took in the sight of the young priestess. Then it was like something clicked into place. Tia threw herself forward, arms wrapping tightly around Ranni. She clung to her like this connection was the only thing keeping her from drifting away into a storm, body trembling as she burrowed closer.

For whatever horrors she’d witnessed, or pain she’d experienced, Tia was selfishly, wholly, thankful that they’d brought Ranni to her again.

---

_{Interaction: Ayel Raunefeldt @Dezuel, Sya Leela @PrinceAlexus, Ranni Soleil @Queen Arya
Mention: Kira Rykker @The Muse, Orion Nightingale @Qia}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Inn}

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Amaya had failed to anticipate how maddening it would be to finally spend time with Elara but only while trapped by the eyes of strangers. She didn’t want her handmaiden, she wanted her friend. But Amaya had never known how to hold both the titles of Princess and Person at once.

She glanced over at Elara – her silver hair that glowed like moonlight, her pale eyes, the small, tentative smile that pierced through her careful walls and made Amaya want to burst into tears because her mother was dead and she wanted to be held –

Amaya’s hand is a light, chilly touch on top of Elara’s. It was just a slight pressure, and then it was gone. It was a thoughtless motion, to any onlookers. She looked back to the two Aurelian women, a puff of white air escaping her lips.

But before she could address the two women any more, she was overwhelmed with the feeling of not being in her own body – of looking at it from the outside. Suddenly she saw herself as others might. Beautiful. Regal. Composed.

Impenetrable.

And then it was over, and she was Amaya once more, fractured and nervous beneath her careful façade. Both of the Aurelians were stammering and then one all but fled the scene. Amaya fought to reorient herself. From the dissociation, to the panicked sisters, she tried to maintain composure without reacting too much to all these new factors.

Psychic magic, she realized. Uncontrolled, at that. Amaya cursed herself. Psychic magic was Lunarian. She’d received countless lessons as a child on all manner of Lunarian magiccraft, and while she’d never quite taken to psychic magic, she’d at least been taught how to shield properly.

Careless.

The remaining sister – Dyna, Ranni and Dyna Soleil – practically danced in place, so eager was she to follow her sister. It was easier for Amaya to hold herself together when at least there were others present who were so horrible at it. But still, something melancholic bubbled up in her at seeing Dyna’s obvious distress and concern for her sister.

Amaya dismissed her with a soft wave of her hand, giving Dyna the permission she was all but begging for. “She needs your company more than I do.” She hesitated – she was being too cold. The image of herself flashed in her mind again – beautiful, but aloof. Ornamental. She was here to learn about people and start building relationships, not sit here like a statue carved from ice. She offered Dyna a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I hope she’s well soon.” It was true – Amaya didn’t wish any strife or struggle upon any of the citizens of Dawnhaven, not when the world was difficult enough to survive as it was. But the words seemed to fall flat to Amaya’s ears. Her voice was smooth, the warmth well-practiced, but it felt so… hollow. Like she no longer knew how to play the role of gracious Princess that she’d practiced at for so many years.

And then Dyna was gone, and it was just Amaya and Elara.

She let out a slow, billowing breath. “I swear I used to be better at this.” The words were a low, decidedly un-princesslike mutter. She glanced at Elara, meeting her friend’s eyes. Words piled up on the back of her tongue, blocking her throat. I missed you. Were you alright during the storm? I don’t know how to stop grieving.

“I am glad to see you.” It was a pale whisper, the words too small to encompass all she wanted to say. The corner of her mouth quirked up into a fragile smile, mimicking the one Elara had offered her mere moments earlier.

Then Amaya took a steadying breath in, pulling herself back together. It was easier this time, with her friend finally beside her. Even if they didn’t have the opportunity to properly talk yet, having Elara with her as she braved the crowds was a familiar, comforting sensation.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she finally said, at a more normal volume. “A drink might do me good.” Truthfully, Amaya didn’t want Elara to leave at all. But she recognized the offer for what it was – the urge to be helpful, to care for Amaya as she had for so many years. And who knew? Maybe the warmth would chase away the chill that built under her skin, in her lungs. “Thank you.”

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_{Interaction: Elara Moonshadow @Qia, Ranni and Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Inn}

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Head held high, poised, as graceful as ever, Amaya walked through the bustling town square as smoothly as if it were the echoing halls of the palace. She could practically hear the click of her heels against the marble tile, her expression one of practiced neutrality -- aloof, pleasant, and above all not reflective of the nerves that buzzed violently under her skin. She didn't dare look to any of the people mingling with each other. She feared another crack appearing in her mask, fracturing her careful performance in front of so many.

She focused straight ahead of her, on the sight of her handmaiden sitting amongst a dispersing crowd. She hadn’t even spoken with Elara since they’d first received the news that her mother had died, and it’d just been a recurring cycle of falling apart and holding herself together since then. She just… needed someone she knew. Who knew her. Unfortunately, that list had now condensed to a single person. But if Amaya could make it to her, steady herself, perhaps then she could manage to find some semblance of proper self control again.

But before she’d crossed even half the distance to Elara, a cloaked figure stepped into her path. Ghostly blue eyes peered at her from beneath the hood, cradled by a smile that cut a sickle’s arc across a man’s face. She stilled, alarms going off in her mind.

But it wasn’t until she heard his voice that she finally placed him. The crowing man. He’d stepped into her path once before, in the moments following the announcement of her mother’s death. But she’d had Flynn there the last time, to speak for her. She’d had his hand tight around hers, anchoring her. She was alone this time. Amaya managed to keep herself from taking a step backwards – as if she’d find warmth and a broad chest at her back, hands pressing phantom weight on her shoulders. His face flashed in her mind – that spark of anger she’d glimpsed.

She was alone, she reminded herself. She’d never needed protection from men with scouring eyes and hidden smiles before. She certainly didn’t need it now.

She forced herself to still as the man spoke – of her eyes, her heart, her marriage. Of love. The idea seemed ludicrous to Amaya. The whole continent knew that they hadn’t married for love, and the goddesses didn’t seem to care either, if the damned prophecy was to be believed. But still, she felt… small, somehow. Chastised, almost. She lifted her chin slightly, as if to make herself taller even though she still needed to look up at him.

Amaya was almost thankful that the cloaked man was so off-putting. Defenses were easier to build up when there was such a clear threat.

“And knowledge cannot be assumed,” she replied lightly to his presumptuous words. But behind her polite smile and her relaxed face, her eyes were sharp. “Especially when one is not entitled to it.” Amaya flicked her gaze to their surroundings, the gesture unbothered and leisurely. Her unease grew with every moment she didn’t have her eyes on him, like he might pounce while she was distracted. But Amaya forced herself to spend another heartbeat watching the torches flicker and dance. She finally let herself look at the man as he backed away.

“Thank you for coming today,” she said, stepping into the role of royal host -- perhaps this wasn't the palace and she hadn't had any say in putting it on, but Amaya knew what image was expected of her. “I hope you enjoy the festivities.” Then she forced herself to continue her path forward, now that he was finally out of her way.

She needed to wash the feel of his gaze off her skin.

But it was only a scant few steps until she was at last at Elara’s side. There were two other women there – Aurelian, by the look of it. Identical but for the clear signs of blight on the softer one’s body. She seemed… distressed. Well, at least Amaya was doing a better job at hiding her emotions. She hoped.

Perching herself delicately on the stool next to Elara (Was the stool… clean? Should she have waited for someone to announce her to this little group? Who? Elara? Was there protocol? Common folk didn’t have that right? Was it a faux pas to sit as they still stood? But there were plenty of other groups in mixed states of repose, so it seemed acceptable, right? Could they tell she didn’t know how to do this? Oh, to the depths with it all, she was a Princess, she would do as she pleased.) Amaya caught her handmaiden’s eye. Only the white cloud of frost, escaping her lips with every breath, gave away her nerves.

Music reverberated out of the inn, filling even the outdoors with its brightness.

She wondered if Flynn was in there – if he was dancing. It was likely, she supposed, as she didn’t see him outside anymore. Not that she was looking for him.

“Well,” Amaya said casually. She knew how to be casual. This was all very casual. Like her. “Practically all of Dawnhaven seems to be here.” She was pleased that she managed to not say that like it was a very creative curse. “I’m pleased to see that everyone appears to have weathered the storm well.” As heavy as the mask was becoming, she was unwilling to let it drop in front of the two Aurelian women. Looking at the two of them, she said, “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Elara Moonshadow @Qia, Ranni and Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya
Mention: Flynn Astaros @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Hot Springs}

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Tia's eyebrows drew together as she looked up at Orion. It then occurred to her how very abnormal she was acting -- and how, if the Arch Priest did not permit her to tell others about her visions, this was going to be very hard to explain. Tia looked between his crimson eyes, lips parting as if she intended to do just that. But no sound came out. There was only the aching hollowness in the center of her chest, the space where Ranni and her sister had taken root in her heart before Tia had all but abandoned them. A tear finally managed to escape her dark eyes, cresting over the hill of her cheek.

Tia was so engulfed by her own emotions, she didn't even manage to see Sya -- looking exceptionally different from how Tia remembered her -- slithering her way into the springs with a very large bottle of alcohol. Worse yet, she didn't realize the spring's other patron, Ayel, entered the scene until after he was a mess of flailing limbs, soaked cloth, and screeched words.

She jumped as he shrill voice cut through the winter air like jagged shards of ice. Suddenly jolted into this new reality, where her springs were the site of chaos, Tia spun. Things quickly devolved. The man -- a noble, based on his clothes and demeanor -- was calling for recompense. Sya (why was she a snake now!?) was hissing and blubbering into her drink. The orange-haired woman was baring her fangs at the man, all but promising blood and blight. Her fangs glinted in the moonlight. It was all too easy to imagine them sinking into flesh. Tearing. Blood pouring from sundered skin, soaking crimson into cloth, pooling into the parched earth. Filling her mouth, her lungs, overflowing the tattered remains of her throat as she gasped.

_{And so the heavens shined.}

Tia gasped loud and sharp. Blood was soon to be shed in Aelios' waters.

Frantic, she turned back over her shoulder to cast wide eyes on Orion -- he was a calm, steady presence, stone amongst the tempest. Better yet, he was blightborn. Under normal circumstances, she would've hated to make this mess anyone else's burden to bare -- but she was in a bit of a panic, herself. Tia flicked her frantic gaze from Orion, to the two women in the water, and back again, her request bright in her eyes: deescalate.

Then, her notebook and pencil still lost in the snow, she hurried over to the nobleman. Was he hurt? He must've been, for all the shrill emotion in his voice. Tia hadn't seen him go down, but she doubted Sya of all people had done anything malicious. The other woman... well, that remained to be seen. She still set Tia on edge, like she was a hare out in the open field as a hawk circled quietly above. But the issue of fault and punishment and reparation could be settled later -- when bodies were less likely to stain the stones of her temple.

Tia rolled up the sleeves of her robe. The cold air was sharp against her skin as she reached down to the man, trying to get a good grip on his arms and help him out of the water. Tia had never been very strong -- her help likely didn't amount to much. But as she held him, she sent tendrils of her soothing magic through him, searching for some ailment or wound to heal. He must've been in pain, right? No one just... made this much of a fuss. Something must've been grievously injured, to cause him such agony as to fill the air with his cries. And the sooner Tia could get him calmed and away from the two women he'd already upset, the better.

---

_{Interaction: Ayel Raunefeldt @Dezuel, Kira Rykker @The Muse, Orion Nightingale @Qia, Sya Leela @PrinceAlexus
Mention: Ranni and Dyna Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Royal Cabin-The Inn | Collaboration with @The Muse

Flynn stood downstairs, adjusting his collar in front of a small mirror by the entrance. He wore a tailored dark green wool coat with gold vine embroidery along the edges. Beneath it, a high-collared tunic and deep forest green waistcoat peeked through, both subtly accented with gold. His charcoal trousers were tucked into fur-lined black leather boots, and a rich emerald cloak draped over his shoulders, fastened by a gold leaf brooch. Dressed neatly for the feast, his attire blended Aurelia's elegance with winter practicality—something he rarely needed back home but had wisely prepared for before arriving.

Hearing footsteps descending the stairs, he turned, his gaze softening as he saw Amaya. She looked poised and polished, her head held high like always. He offered her a closed-lipped smile, a genuine warmth behind it. "Good Morning." he said, glad to see that she planned to leave the confines of her room today.

Flynn nodded as she spoke of Elara, understanding that Amaya and her handmaiden seemed quite close with one another. "May I walk you there?" he asked, his tone more hopeful than insistent.

Without waiting for an immediate answer, he reached for her heavy coat that hung by the door. As she closed the distance between them, he held it open for her, the gesture silent but clear—he was offering to help her put it on.

Amaya was pleased with herself that she only hesitated slightly when she glanced at him. His smile was… not new per se. She’d seen it a fair number of times over the course of the last two months – in the quiet moment they’d had alone immediately following their exchange of vows. The first time he’d shown her the cabin that would become their home for what might be the rest of their lives. When he’d placed a plate of surprisingly edible food in front of her just the other day. Amaya was beginning to recognize this smile.

That the sight of it didn’t immediately fill her with indignation, though – that was new.

If there was one thing Amaya hated, it was others seeing her caught off guard. Flynn had seen that an embarrassing number of times, of late. And so, she didn’t pause as she walked down the stairs and approached. She swallowed at the proximity, suddenly nervous the closer she got. She turned, slipping her arms through the offered coat in a smooth motion. Amaya pretended she didn’t remember the echoes of his voice, soft and close, murmuring to her as she fell apart.

At least when her back was turned to him, he couldn’t see her expression. Eyebrows scrunched together, lips pressed, it only lasted a moment. Amaya didn’t want anyone else there when she went to see Elara – she didn’t want to have to hold herself together for anyone, least of all Flynn who’d seen so much of her already.

But then she imagined herself wandering aimlessly around Dawnhaven because she didn’t know where anything was — sightseeing hadn’t been high on her list of things to do in the last two months. Or venturing much out of the cabin at all. But Amaya didn’t have the luxury of moping around or refusing Flynn just to be petty anymore.

When she stepped away from Flynn and turned back to face him, coat heavy on her shoulders, her expression was unbothered again.

“If you wish.”

As Flynn opened the cabin door the cold air swept in, but the wind was gentle now, the storm reduced to a slow, steady fall of snowflakes. The path before them was clear, the snow piled high on either side, evidence of the guards' efforts. When they stepped out, the guard on duty straightened and bowed to them both, offering a polite greeting. "Your Highnesses, good morning."

Flynn acknowledged the guard with a nod, then turned to Amaya, making sure he would walk in step with her as they made their way down the freshly cleared path. The walk to Elara's home was only about five minutes, but with each step, the silence between them grew awkward—yet somehow he felt it was becoming more familiar. Still, he found himself searching for words, anything to fill the space.

In his head, Flynn could still hear the sharp edge in his mother’s voice, chiding him with the lessons she’d drilled into him since he was a boy. “Stop standing there like a mute, Flynn.” she had said through gritted teeth, a hand tightly gripped around his bicep as she forcefully dragged the teenage Prince to the side during one of their dining events with the Raunefeldt family. “Do you want people to think you’re a dull-witted boy with nothing to offer?” her green eyes narrowed in disappointment as she pretended to be fixing his collared jacket.

"No, mother, I just don't like—"

"A prince who cannot command a room with his voice is no prince at all." She swiftly cut him off. Flynn had opened his mouth to say more, but closed it shortly after, knowing better. "You must entertain and engage.” she reiterated, pulling his coat to make it perfectly straight against his body. "At least make an effort—silence is no way to make anyone feel welcome." Delicately, she fixed the placement of his blonde locks while glaring daggers at him.

"If you can't manage a simple conversation, how do you expect to lead? You’ll look a fool, and worse—make your family look a fool." The sting of her words had a way of resurfacing at the most inconvenient times, reminding him of the expectations that came with his upbringing.

Brought back to reality by the crunching of snow underneath their boots, Flynn shifted uncomfortably, aware that his silence might seem awkward or rude, even though the right words still eluded him.

"It's good to be outside again, isn't it?" he said at last, glancing up toward the dark sky, where the full moon shone brightly, illuminating the snowy landscape. He let out a small laugh, more to break the silence than anything else. "I don't know how you all manage to live in such a harsh place year after year." He tried to keep his tone light, the hint of a joke in his words, though there was an underlying admiration there—an acknowledgment of the resilience he'd seen in her and the others who called this place home.

Amaya bit back her immediate response – to ask if His Highness had alternative suggestions?. She took in a slow breath and reminded herself that she wasn’t being petty anymore. In truth, the silence had been a relief. She didn’t know how to converse with him without being set on edge. Instead, she’d spent the quiet walk trying to take in everything about the town that she could, memorizing the path to Elara’s home – which she realized she vaguely remembered, at least. Her magic buzzed gently under her skin. Amaya had been sure to expend some before leaving her room this morning, and prayed to Seluna that it would be depleted enough to at least be manageable through the feast.

But Flynn was right about one thing – it was nice to be outside. After being trapped in her room, Amaya didn’t realize how much she’d missed the glittering snow, the soft way it crunched under her boots, the way it enveloped the town like a blanket.

“The same way Aurelians manage without the sun, I imagine,” she finally offered, her voice soft and reserved. “There is no other choice but to survive.”

Flynn nodded thoughtfully at Amaya's words, a quiet acknowledgment of the truth in them. "I suppose you're right," he said, his voice softer, almost contemplative. "Survival is the only choice." Ironically, he felt the same way about their prophesied fate. He would not surrender to being sacrificed without a fight.

As they continued to walk, he couldn’t help but reflect on the stark contrast between their two kingdoms. Aurelia had always been the more prosperous of the two—a land of sun and fertile soil, with every advantage stacked in its favor. Its power and wealth had come easily, while Lunaris had been left to struggle in shadow. Now, everything was flipped.

A tinge of guilt crept into Flynn's chest, and he tried to push it away. He knew the history—how his kingdom had used its superiority to oppress the Lunarians for generations. His father had always dismissed it as the natural order of things, never sparing a thought for the lives it affected. Flynn had long told himself he shouldn’t feel responsible for the sins of his ancestors, but the nagging feeling lingered. What if he could be the one to change things? The idea felt like hubris, a dangerous pride that he had no right to entertain.

As they neared Elara’s home, he noticed something unusual—he had let a few more minutes of silence pass between them, and for once, it didn’t feel excruciatingly awkward. The quiet felt... comfortable. The kind of silence that wasn't strained, but almost peaceful in its simplicity. Odd.

When they reached Elara’s door, Flynn glanced through the windows and found them dark, no hint of movement inside. He knocked firmly and waited, listening for any sound within. After a minute or two, he turned to Amaya. "She might already be at the feast." he said, meeting her gaze and watching her expression for that familiar look of disappointment.

Amaya was struck by the sudden, overwhelming feeling of being alone. She stood in an empty cavern, her own voice echoing back at her as she called out, mocking her with each reverberation.

And then just as she always did, she shoved the feeling down because she was not a child.

If there was any hurt in her eyes, it was only there for a moment before Amaya wrestled herself back under control.

“Well,” she said, her voice too tight. The cloud that formed in front of her face was too big for the word, her magic twitching to life. She looked away from Flynn to see Elara’s house again. Her hands tightened at her sides as she smoothed her magic back down again. “It was unimportant anyway.” She repeated it to herself in her head. It didn’t matter. She saw her handmaiden near every day, this past week notwithstanding. She’d see her again soon enough. “It can wait until after the festivities.” After Amaya was surrounded by people she didn’t know, in an environment where she didn’t know how to act or what was expected to her, and –

She pulled herself back in. She breathed until the little clouds that formed from her breath were small, faint wisps. Amaya would go to the feast, perform adequately, and keep herself together through all of it.

“Others have likely already gathered at the inn,” she said, still looking at the empty cabin. She suddenly didn’t want to be here, standing before this reminder of her own insecurity and embarrassment. She looked back at Flynn with her carefully neutral expression, if only so she didn’t have to look at the building anymore. “They’ll grow restless if you let them wait too long.”

Flynn noticed the shift in Amaya’s expression—just a flicker, barely enough to register, but he saw it. Her eyes lingered on Elara’s cabin in a way that made it clear the news hadn’t sat well with her. He didn’t pry, though; Amaya had always been careful to keep herself guarded, and he respected that. Instead, he nodded at her words.

"You're right, we shouldn't let them wait much longer," he said, his tone light. Amaya’s eyebrow twitched up. "Hopefully Elara is enjoying the food and you two can catch up there."

Selfishly, he was glad for her continued company. Despite her silence, he was glad to have her beside him. It was better than being trapped alone in his own mind, wrestling with thoughts that never seemed to give him peace. Even if Amaya didn’t say much, her presence was a welcome distraction.

As they started down the cleared path towards the city center, he wondered how the festivities were coming along. Were the Aurelian's and Lunarians getting along after so much seclusion? Were they making friends, becoming comrades? It was most likely a far fetched dream.

After a while, he couldn't resist a playful smile as he glanced over at Amaya. "So, are you looking forward to a real meal soon? I mean, anything has to be better than the attempts I made for you, right?" His smile grew a bit wider as he met eyes with her, finding humor in his kitchen escapades, if only for a moment.

Amaya was pulled from her buzzing thoughts — of breathing exercises, the town’s layout, the impending crowd she would be amongst — by the sound of Flynn’s voice. Her eyes flicked over to him at his tone, giving him an unimpressed look. There was no heat to it though — no edge. The memory of his attempts at cooking flashed through her mind. He’d been so… proud of himself. So eager for her reaction. Amaya had stubbornly refrained from commenting, like to give him her opinion would be to lose something. But each time she’d finished her meal and returned to her room without a word, seeing him deflate out of the corner of her eye… it hadn’t felt like winning.

He was still fishing for an evaluation, it seemed.

She pulled her gaze away from him — his smile, his green eyes — to look forward again. She let out a breath. Perhaps she was feeling generous.

“Few would expect a Crown Prince to know the first thing about cooking,” she said primly. The ground crunched under their boots as they walked through the town, a light breeze lifting wisps of snow into the air from where it was piled along the path. “That we survived it at all should be cause for celebration.” Amaya had finished her plate each time.

Flynn let out a laugh—a genuine laugh that seemed to shake off some of the heaviness that weighed on his soul. The first real laugh he'd had in ages. Amaya jumped at the sound, turning her head to look at him fully. He looked at Amaya, a grin still lingering on his face. "I'll give you that," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “The fact that you tried it at all is a feat of bravery. We should hold a celebration in your name—Amaya the Brave.”

She blinked up at him. Then she turned her gaze straight ahead, before her cheeks could start to heat.

It was a relief for Flynn, hearing her at least entertain the question, even if her words were sharp as ever. The way she spoke was almost even… endearing? There was something oddly comforting in her dry humor, and he felt a small sense of satisfaction settle within him.

Slowly, the distant hum of the gathering crowd began to drift toward them, growing louder with each step. Flynn's eyes flicked to Amaya now and then, watching her closely, ready for any sign that her magic might be stirring again. He wasn’t entirely sure how to help her if it did, but he was determined to try.

As they rounded the final corner, the sight of people clustered around the tavern came into view—citizens laughing, enjoying warm food, and huddling close to the bonfire. It pleased him, at least, to see that people were eager to converse with one another and break bread.

"Elara must be around somewhere," he mused aloud, scanning the crowd and searching for the familiar flash of silver hair.

Amaya’s hands tightened around the thick fabric of her coat, her nerves jumping at the sight of the crowd. Any cracks in her mask that she’d allowed were rapidly filling themselves in as she retreated into herself.

She had no experience on which to draw from to know how to… deal with this. Amaya had never been amongst common folk before. She’d never been to an inn. Her father’s greatest shame, he’d all but hidden her away within the walls of the palace. She’d stood before the people of Dawnhaven a brief handful of times, and each time her role had been simple — keep still, keep her expression neutral, walk where directed, eulogize her mother…

She nearly opened her mouth to ask Flynn what was expected of her, or how long did she have to be here, or why did that man have a shovel. But Amaya pressed her lips together, shoving each question down the moment it appeared. Her white clouds of breath seemed to grow — or perhaps that was just a result of her breathing growing more rapid.

Flynn strolled into the square with a sense of ease, blissfully unaware of the turmoil building inside Amaya. He had spent his entire life being groomed for these moments, effortlessly stepping into the role of leader, trained from a young age to address the crowd with poise and confidence. The stage was second nature to him, woven into the fabric of his upbringing. It never crossed his mind that for Amaya, it might be different—that the very idea of speaking before strangers might twist her insides. Their upbringings were worlds apart, each molded by entirely different expectations.

Amaya’s steps slowed as they walked further into the square. She felt smaller and smaller with each step, fighting to keep her chin held high and her expression blank as more and more people spotted them with lingering gazes. Some were even smiling at them. Well, at Flynn. A man amongst his people, Amaya felt a sharp pang of envy at how easily he seemed to move.

He spotted Elara standing near Sya in the distance and smiled, pointing them out. "There she is." he said casually, as if it were just another day. Amaya perked up, her eyes desperately searching the crowd for her handmaiden’s familiar face. A relieved breath escaped her when she saw silver hair. As Flynn’s eyes drifted back to Sya, however, he did a double take, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"That's new..." he muttered, his eyes fixed on Sya from afar, unsure if he was still grounded in reality. It was like a scene pulled straight from a dream—or a nightmare—where reality twisted in ways that defied reason. The innkeeper, somehow, no longer had legs. Instead, a sleek, shimmering snake tail took their place. How had she morphed again?

He blinked in disbelief before turning back to Amaya, the uncertainty of the moment making him hesitate. Did she want him to walk her over to the group of strangers now gathering around Elara and Sya? Or was she waiting for him to leave her alone, giving her the space she so desperately seemed to crave? Part of him didn’t want to let go of her company just yet—it had been easier with her beside him, even with the silences.

Flynn found himself torn between the desire to stay close and the worry that his presence might only add to her discomfort. So, he waited, looking to her for any sign of what she needed, ready to follow her lead—whatever that might be.

Amaya hesitated, now that she’d finally found Elara. She was in the middle of a chaotic gaggle of people, two of them very noticeably blightborn, and a small handful that she recognized. Despite the mess of bodies and voices surrounding her though, Elara seemed… comfortable. As reserved as ever, but relaxed, as she munched on a cookie. Another sharp pang of envy stabbed through Amaya, at her friend’s poise.

Oh, stop feeling inadequate and just do something about it.

Though her hands remained tight at her sides, Amaya tried to stretch taller, to relax the muscles in her face to at least pretend she was calm. But when she tried to force herself to move towards the crowd around Elara, she couldn’t do it.

“She seems… occupied.” Amaya tried to tell herself that this wasn’t retreating. “It would be impolite to —”

She cut off with a sharp gasp as something bumped into her and Amaya was pushed into Flynn’s side. There was suddenly a chill at her fingertips. Flinching away from the collision Amaya looked over with wide eyes.

Flynn reacted on instinct the moment Amaya stumbled into him, his arms reaching out to catch her before she could fall. One of his hands settled on her waist while the other steadied her shoulder, the touch lingering as he focused his full attention on the man who had run into her.

It was a large man, with a red nose and Aurelian garb. He blinked and looked over Amaya’s head at Flynn.

“Beg your pardon, Your Highness…es.” His eyes darted between Prince and Princess, looking at them with mild surprise.

Flynn's gaze hardened, a flash of protectiveness igniting in his green eyes as he stood a little taller, shielding Amaya with his presence. "Watch where you’re going." he said in a voice that carried more command than usual, his tone clipped with restrained irritation. Amaya’s eyes flicked up to him, shocked by the harshness of his normally smooth voice. “Move along, now.”

The man, clearly taken aback, gave a hasty nod and a mumbled apology before stumbling off.

Amaya could only stare up at Flynn, cataloging this new facet of him. She knew he was unguarded with his emotions. She’d seen him switch from joy, to worry, to defeat, and back again in the span of a single conversation… but never anger. It was contained, but unmistakable in the small crease of his brow, in the way his lip lifted slightly as he watched the other man over Amaya’s shoulder.

Flynn looked down at Amaya then, his eyes softening with concern as he slowly released his hold on her, though the warmth of his touch seemed to linger in the small space between them. "Are you alright?" he asked gently, searching her face for any sign of distress—not just physically, but emotionally, knowing how on edge she had been as of late.

His switch back to quiet concern caught Amaya off guard. Suddenly his focus was back on her, and it was like she was surrounded by him. His green eyes searched hers, his hands hovering above her body like he was ready to put her back together if she fell apart. At some point she’d brought her hand up to his chest to steady herself, the fine embroidery of his coat catching against her skin.

She took a step back.

Light and sound returned to the world. She’d been standing in his shadow, she realized distantly. They’d been so close together that his tall form had blocked out the firelight flickering around them. Chatter filled the air around them, mixing with scraping utensils and grunting chairlegs. Amaya brought her hand behind her back, fingers curling. The chill was gone. She swallowed, trying to find her voice again.

Flynn frowned as Amaya’s hand slipped from his chest, feeling the absence of her touch. For a moment, he felt a pang of longing and almost wished for her to stay so that they could hold onto that rare closeness just a bit longer. But he quickly shoved the thought aside, reminding himself how long it had been since he’d felt a woman's touch—too long, clearly, if something as simple as her steadying hand could make his mind whirl like this. There was no way he could have been developing any sort of feelings for the Ice Princess… could he? She had shown him only slivers of herself, barely wanting to be around him. And yet…

“I’m sure you have more pressing matters to attend to than playing the role of my keeper,” she said in lieu of an answer. The words came out in a rush, her voice softer than she’d intended. She glanced around them, at the unknown faces and huddled bodies. “I promise to survive until you’re ready to leave.” She was so focused on being dismissive, Amaya didn’t realize she’d implied that she still expected to walk home with him.

As Amaya deflected, her words left Flynn feeling bittersweet, recognizing the distance she was trying to create again. Still, despite her attempts at putting up walls, her comment about waiting until he was ready to leave echoed in his mind, and he found a trace of hope in the idea that she still intended to be by his side later on.

She gave him one last look. Then Amaya forced herself to turn and walk towards Elara, her back straight and her pace measured. She didn’t give herself the chance to look back at her husband.

"I’ll come find you soon," he called after her, carrying a note of encouragement. For a few breaths he watched her approach Elara’s group, shoulders square, as brave as ever.

Turning his attention back to the crowd, Flynn shifted his focus. He needed to whittle down his ever growing tasklist. Near the top of the list was Ashe, the fiery blight-born who he had promised an interview with before the blizzard had trapped them indoors. He began scanning the crowd, expecting to spot Ashe’s flaming aura with ease among the bodies that filled the square.

But then, something else caught his eye—a raven-haired woman with pale blue eyes that pierced right through him. His breath caught in his throat as he instantly recognized her face. Nyla.

The sight of her hit him like a punch to the gut, his heart dropping into his stomach and then racing uncontrollably. The sound of the crowd chatter dulled to a muted buzz in his ears, drowned out by the sudden ringing and the thunderous beating of his own heart. He blinked, once, twice, hoping he was imagining it. But no, she was there, staring right back at him from across the square.

For a moment that felt like an eternity, they simply stared at each other, the weight of countless memories rushing to the forefront of Flynn’s mind. The connection between them taut and electric. He could hardly breathe.

Was this real? Why was she here? How was she here? His mind raced, his body paralyzed. He had to be dreaming.

Then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared, she turned away, slipping into the tavern and vanishing from view. The shock of her presence caused his hands to tremble with adrenaline, his stomach twisting in ways that made him feel sick. Flynn stood frozen in place, trying to process whether this was reality or some cruel trick of his imagination.

His concentration shattered as a guard passed by, dipping his head in a respectful nod and offering a quick, “Your Highness.” The words jolted Flynn back to reality, and he felt a hot flash of energy rush through his body, like a wildfire sweeping through his veins. His nerves bounced wildly inside his chest, making him feel both sweaty and cold at the same time—a confusing storm of sensations that left him unsteady.

He forced a stiff nod in return to the guard, the motion automatic, though he barely registered it. Desperately trying to ground himself, he glanced once more in Amaya’s direction, catching sight of her just as she began to connect with Elara’s group. For a moment, he hesitated, torn between the pull of his duty to Amaya and the overwhelming need to chase down a ghost from his past.

Forcing his legs to move, Flynn pushed his way through the throng of people with newfound urgency. He had to know. He had to confirm if Nyla was truly here or if his mind was playing tricks. The crowd seemed to blur around him, the faces and voices blending into a haze as he set his sights on the inn.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: The Hot Springs}

---

---

Though Tia had intended to go to the post office first thing, she instead found herself on the steps of the hot springs, snow shovel in hand. Snow had managed to pile several feet high in the week that they’d all been stuck indoors, and as the temple’s keeper, it fell to Tia to make sure that the path was safe for visitors. It made sense that people would seek out the warmth of the springs, coupled with the novelty of being outside. She just hadn’t expected it quite so soon.

She tried to keep her presence small and unobtrusive as she cleared the stairs – she didn’t want to disturb the woman sitting in the spring. Striking and intense, her fiery gaze had set Tia on edge. Truly impressive, given that she’d just spent a week growing used to Gadez’s special brand of intensity.

Tia’s face heated when she remembered their brief interaction. It had taken her a moment to understand the woman’s implication as she’d looked between Tia and Gadez. By the time the woman had moved past them towards the springs, Tia’s cheeks were aflame and her eyes were panicked and wide. Then Gadez left, the woman left, and Tia was alone with her mortification. The fire crackled lowly through the temple.

The letter she’d written to the Queen weighed heavy in her pocket. It was only a few pieces of paper, but it seemed to burn between the cloth of her robes. She had to send it – she had a responsibility. Not only that, but she had to go to the post office to see if the Arch Priest would finally give her permission to share her visions with the Prince. They had to mean something, didn’t they? But after a week of buzzing around the temple worrying about not accomplishing her tasks in a timely manner, Tia felt petrified now that she actually had the option to go out into the world and get the work done.

And so now she was procrastinating busying herself with an equally important task. The hot springs were very popular, afterall. Someone might be injured slipping on the steps if she didn’t clear them of ice and snow. Aelios would be most displeased if anything befell those who frequented her temple, worshipers or not.

…Right? Right.

Tia looked up at a voice carried softly on the breeze. She blinked in surprise at the figure approaching her. Then a small, shy smile spread across her face.

Orion Nightingale emerged from the snow and frost like stone carved out of the landscape itself. He was a study in contrasts - how his bright eyes and dark hair were stark against the paleness of his skin. How the warmth of his voice contradicted his cool demeanor. How carefully he moved, in spite of – or perhaps because of – his large frame.

Tia was just thankful at least he wasn’t seeing her while she was covered in blood, this time. Or unconscious. Or in need of saving.

Well, the day was still young, she supposed.

“Mr. Nightingale,” she greeted when he was close enough to hear her soft voice. She hesitated a moment. Then Tia held up a hand in a motion to wait and dug through her robe pockets to pull out a notebook and pencil. Flipping to an open page, she glanced up at him again before writing. Her fingers were slightly numb from the cold, but it wasn’t too bad yet. Her handwriting wavered only slightly as she moved the pencil along the paper.

Very well, thank you. The storm was a forced opportunity for rest. And yo

The book and pencil fell from her hands, burying themselves several inches deep in a snowbank. Her eyes unfocused. She may have stopped breathing.

A pair of arms thrown around her in a tight hug as a young priestess in training shouted ‘Yes, I accept!’ knocking both women to the ground. Tia’s hand guiding another as she coached her through the more intricate magic of healing a burn on her twin’s leg. A quiet evening over two cups of tea, as they shared bittersweet stories of their lives before coming to the capital, the small, humble churches they’d called home before being enveloped by the grand Sunfire Citadel.

Tia came back to herself. Stunned, she looked past Orion, towards the town. Something pulled.

...Ranni?

She was suddenly out of breath.

It wasn’t like the visions she’d been receiving, or the prickling awareness she’d had of Willis that first day in Dawnhaven. There was no burning force pushing her onward, no weight threatening to drown her on a whim. But Tia didn’t know what else to compare it to. There was simply… knowledge. A certainty that pushed through her reality. Ranni Soleil, the young woman she’d been tasked with mentoring in the months before her injury, was here.

Tia blinked, trying to reorient herself, to remember where she was and what her body felt like. Her eyes were wet when she looked back up at Orion, her breath coming out in shallow puffs.

“Is there another –”

A series of coughs cut her off, her throat protesting the reckless speed and volume with which she spoke. Tia squeezed her eyes shut, bringing a sleeve up to her mouth. When her coughs quieted and she could manage to get in air, she carefully tried again.

“Priestess?” she breathed out. She swallowed again. “Here?”

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_{Interaction: Gadez Paladice @Dezuel, Kira Rykker @The Muse, Orion Nightingale @Qia
Mention: Ranni Soleil @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Royal Cabin}

Snow was a familiar blanket that coated the land – full and white, glittering where the candlelight danced across it through the window of Amaya’s room.

The storm had passed.

Amaya had spent the majority of it locked away in her room. She needed – she needed to scream, but that wasn’t an option. She needed to rage. To mourn. But that felt frustratingly pointless. She wasn’t a child, and she was sick of feeling helpless and ineffectual. She’d spent the last two months feeling like she had been swallowed up by a furious riptide, only to finally be drowned by the death of her mother.

No more. The fury was hers now, icy and sharp, and she refused to let the tide command her. And so, her week of solitude had been spent systematically taking stock of her situation.

The first, most immediate concern: her magic. She had come unacceptably close to losing control of it in public – she had lost control in front of Flynn. Shame stung at the memory. She’d been arrogant to believe that she could keep it all contained as she had before. Her growing magic simply didn’t fit within her body anymore. It needed constant release, else it leaked out of her without her knowledge or consent, or worse, built into a growing storm fighting for escape. Amaya often woke to find long, glistening icicles hanging from the ceiling of her room, a chill clinging to her body so sharply that she couldn’t bring herself to crawl out from her bedding as she shivered. She spent hours at a time sitting cross-legged on her bed, a shallow bowl of water in front of her, going over basic exercises she’d first learned and mastered as a child. But now, what should’ve been a ripple across the water’s surface became a sloshing wave that spilled and froze in her sheets. A single ice crystal she tried to form became snow that fell in her room, her own contained blizzard. Amaya’s frustration with her magic only grew as the week went on. She couldn’t reliably cast if she created an avalanche when she wanted a snowflake, and if she didn’t cast at all, the avalanche would come regardless.

The second concern: her mother’s death. Hate and rage threatened to consume her when she thought of old King Jericho – the man who’d only ever treated her with disdain, who was likely pleased, if not outright culpable for the death of her mother. Amaya didn’t care how it happened, but her father needed to pay. Whatever plans he’d laid in motion, whatever legacy he thought he’d leave, whatever shred of satisfaction he had in this life, Amaya intended to tear it all down. She needed to learn the truth of her mother’s death, who this new woman was that he’d married and named Queen (whether she was just another pawn manipulated and forced into place, or another person Amaya needed to shatter), and what else he had planned – because he always had something planned.

There were a number of obstacles standing between her and her father, though. For one, she was miles away in Dawnhaven, and her father’s court had already written her off as dead the moment the prophecy was announced. She was a charming little doll to the other nobles, and while the way they underestimated her was useful when she was in the palace, sweet talking information out of them and subtly influencing their opinions, Amaya knew that the game had changed drastically. She was across the continent, they were all too easily cowed by King Jericho to risk his ire by entertaining her, and any affection they had for her was likely severed with the death of Queen Anjali. Not to mention, the ticking clock that the prophecy had placed on her life. Even if she were back in the capital, the best outcome that everyone agreed upon involved her imminent death. She likely didn’t have time to avenge her mother and dismantle her father piece by piece.

Which led Amaya to her third concern: the blight. There were so many levels of horror to it that Amaya didn’t know how to wrap her head around. The wreckage of death and destruction it did to the land – to her people. The way it twisted the living into something new and incomprehensible. The way that it roared towards an inevitable end, either consuming the entire continent or defeated at last – either way, it ended with Amaya dead.

She didn’t know how her father had managed to keep the reality of it from her – from the entire capital. Worst yet, she had no idea what to do about any of it. Because she had to do something, didn’t she? Wasn’t it her responsibility? She was the Crown Princess of Lunaris, until this all finally managed to kill her. Was she selfless enough to let it kill her? Brave enough?

When she stopped and allowed herself to truly contemplate the reality of it all, she thought maybe she understood the frantic desperation that seeped out of Flynn like ice, out of her.

She thought of his hand, warm as it melted her frozen magic.

She thought of his patient eyes, as deep as the sea.

And then she remembered his voice when he told her about his plan for the town assembly – how he’d decided without her that her time for private grief was over and that she was to piece herself back together and put herself on display to announce the death of her mother to the town.

Amaya didn’t know why it hurt so much. It had been upsetting, certainly. Insulting. Enraging.

Why had it been disappointing?

She didn’t let herself dwell on it. She was done dwelling, and it was time for action. Her problems were many, and her options very few. But she was used to men in charge limiting her power. She’d simply have to start reclaiming it. She would need to start gathering information on available resources – namely, people. She needed to know who was in Dawnhaven, and what made them tick. She’d managed to survive in the palace because she understood the people buzzing through it like pompous bees. Amaya looked back on the past two months with embarrassment at her own behavior – moping and hiding away like a petulant girl when there was work to be done.

She had been informed – not consulted, or included, but informed, just as she had been with every other decision her husband made regarding Dawnhaven – that there was to be a feast today. The lack of agency she was expected to hold was unsurprising. Familiar, even. It still stung.

When Amaya emerged from her room, perfectly put together with her head held high, she was only slightly surprised to find Flynn still in the cabin. He looked every bit the Prince of Aurelia, dashing and golden. His presence had become familiar over the past week, confined as they were. She’d barely spoken to him, but she’d been… cordial, at least. Distant, certainly. But for whatever reason, Amaya could no longer find that sustained anger that she’d drawn on whenever she needed to steel herself to interact with him before. Perhaps she simply didn’t have enough in her to hate both Flynn and her father at once.

She descended the stairs, pointedly ignoring the crack in the banister. Her magic hummed under her skin. Amaya hesitated for a moment, before steeling herself and opening her mouth.

“If there is time before the festivities,” she said in a clear, light voice, “Elara will have matters to discuss with me.” Elara would have nothing to discuss with her — nothing regarding any royal or official matters, at least. But Amaya was not looking forward to the feast. Something about being surrounded by strangers, the energy, the noise, made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t want to examine. All she wanted to do was to finally see her handmaiden, to catch her breath and be herself for a moment before parading in front of Dawnhaven like some sparkling jewel. She finally cast her blue eyes towards Flynn. “I shouldn’t be long.” The festival was likely going to overwhelm her, but if she could just have a moment with her friend… remember what it was to be free of her mask and come up for a breath of air…

Perhaps then she could bear to swim with this raging current that threatened to pull her under again.

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_{Interactions: Flynn @The Muse}