c3p-0h

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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

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

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

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

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

Ranni.

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

It’s not a prophecy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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

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

She was so cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now, they simply had each other.

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

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

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

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

Elara…

…Stay…

…I’m sorry…

…Please stay…

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

Then, darkness.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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

Part I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled back, putting little effort into it.

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

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

"Chance and fate." He answered cryptically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But, Your –”

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

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

"Thank you."

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

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

What had he done to her?

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

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

“A mistake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I just wanted to talk to you–”

“Alone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amaya’s eyes narrowed.

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

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

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Inn}

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

Out. She needed out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’d been magicked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Sun Temple}

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

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

He… wanted to speak with her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: Outside the Inn}

---

---

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.

---

_{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

---

_{Location: Outside the Inn}

---

---

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.

---

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Outside the Inn}

---

---

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.

* * * * *

* * * * * * * *

_{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.

---

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: The Hot Springs}

---

---

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

---

_{Location: Outside the Inn}

---

---

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.”

---

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