c3p-0h

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Amaya Selu}

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Amaya had lived her entire life within walls.

Layer by layer they encased her, making her small by their greatness. The border walls of the Lunaris capital, grey and distant; the polished white stone that wrapped around the royal grounds; the shining marble of the palace, walls folding over themselves in a frigid maze of hallways and empty rooms; the ice she pulled around herself, with careful practice and trembling hands. At some point it had become second nature – the ice came whether she called it or not, both prison and protection.

And she’d been contained. Held in place. Held together. Small, fragile, and ignorant, she’d seen her walls and thought them the boundaries of the world. She’d felt ice against her back and mistook it for a spine, seen the distorted fractures of her reflection and thought herself whole.

There had been warmth, once. Soft and tender, it had cocooned her so thoroughly that she thought even the chill wouldn’t touch her. But warmth was a dangerous thing – it melted the ice, left the walls thin and fragile.

This is your fault.

The words hadn’t belonged to her. Still, they echoed through Amaya, catching themselves along her fractured edges and making a home in what remained.

She saw soft blue eyes. Pale skin. White hair like moonlight, shining through the shadows. Blood.

Words seeped through the ice and again, Amaya stained them with her grief.

I can’t do this anymore.

Relief had been a breathtaking, guilty thing, when she’d learned that Elara would accompany her for the last few months of her life – at least she would be permitted to keep this last bit of warmth until the end. Her impending death, the role she’d been destined for all along, would come swiftly, and there would simply be no time or motivation for anyone to hurt her further. Why torment someone who was already dead?

But how cruel of her - to find joy in the upheaval of Elara’s life, her future grief, after a lifetime of trapping her behind the many walls that made Amaya’s world. She’d just been too blind, or naive, or needy, or selfish to realize how she sapped the warmth from everyone around her. That was why Amaya was alone now – not because of any torment her father had inflicted upon her. It simply cost too much to be with her.

I can’t be what you want me to be. Not anymore.

Perhaps she’d never lost anything at all. The warmth had been an illusion – an indulgence, too costly to sustain. How pitiful she was, to mistake obligation and duty for… what?

Love?

Did she demand what others could not give? Did she take? Desperate and uncaring, she’d pulled another into her prison to freeze beside her, and thought that her icy hand wrapped around Elara’s, turning her cold and numb, crystals growing along her skin, was love.

I think… I’ve always known.

Elara knew her, better than anyone left in this world. Perhaps even better than her mother had. Amaya used to think herself blessed for that.

Elara knew her, and it had broken her heart.

Perhaps she knew a truth that Amaya was only just now realizing: she was her father’s effortless cruelty, hidden behind her mother’s face.

And now, she was inescapably alone, with nothing but the shards of her own reflection, her ruined echoes forming a chorus around her.

The walls of her prison were gone, and so she collapsed with nothing to hold her together. The warmth, fleeting though it had been, had melted through her careful protection until it shattered at a touch, shards of frost scattered around her. She was a long-festering wound, alight with pain in the open air.

She had nothing left – no warmth to cradle her, no ice to shield her. There was only her grief, her hollow ache, and the burning brine of her tears as they cut familiar paths.

As the salt dried along her skin, the crystals formed like ice.

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_{Interactions: Amaya Selu @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Collab between @SkeankySnack, @c3p-0h, and @The Muse
Location: The Crystal Cave}

Part IV

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The ground thudded with heavy footfalls, those that belonged to the giant blightborn, who trudged along blizzard laden ground with nothing to protect him from the elements. The air around him was thick, heavy and white as blinding snow obscured his vision. He had naught on his person, not even furs and leathers to shield him from the elements. Ivor was truly lost, wandering aimlessly, frozen to the core and starving for anything that could sustain him. An echo crossed the threshold of his mind, his eyes darted to and fro, his head whipping back and forth. What was this sensation? Fear? Ivor moved, he didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere was better than standing still. No matter where he stepped though, the echo only grew louder and louder, until it was but a roar ready to rupture his ears. He felt afraid, alone, where was his tribe? Why had they abandoned him?

When his eyes opened, he found himself in front of the creature he had felled in battle, the essence of the bear within. It roared with foul animosity, its intent writ upon Ivor’s psyche.

“Dead is the goddess! Gone is her scourge, her scorching light! Blessed is the dark! We shall bring forth the end; spill all the living’s blood!”

Ivor’s eyes shot open as his whole body jolted awake, he lifted his appendage to his face only to see his normal, big sized hand. Using said hand he felt across his entire body, realizing there was only flesh and some body hair, instead of a mass of fur and fat. He realized he was back to normal, having transformed sometime during their slumber. There was a sense of relief knowing he was awake once more, but dreams often held meanings. Whatever foreboding sense he got from the meaning, he’d have to wait to contemplate it as he looked down upon his two charges, both of whom he seems to have woken up when he moved so suddenly. Physically, both seemed fine, if not startled, but already it was an improvement from their situation earlier as Ivor’s face lit up with a smile, melting away some of his worries.

“Good morning friends!” His voice boomed and echoed in the confines of the crystal walls.

Zeph tensed beneath heavy furs as the silence he had been savoring was abruptly broken. For the past twenty minutes, he had been awake, listening to the occasional drip of water, the distant splash of killer fish, and the steady breathing of the two who had kept him warm for hours. His hazel eyes, which had been resting on the delicate features of Tia’s face, flicked upward to meet Ivor’s gaze. He forced a slight smile in return before shifting beneath the warmth of the furs, pulling himself into a seated position. The cold air hit him instantly, biting at his bare skin where warmth had once cocooned him.

Tia, suddenly very awake and very warm, scrambled to push herself up and away from Zeph.

"Morning," he muttered, his voice rough, stripped of its usual lighthearted tone. He ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair before pressing his fingers into his temples, shutting his eyes for a moment. Cracking one eye open, he peered at Ivor.

The giant was up and about, stretching out his limbs, muscles flexing and glistening in the light of the crystals.

‘Wasn’t there a bear?’ He thought, confusion setting in. Had he imagined it all? He had been that delirious?

His hand moved to his shoulder, where pain had once seared through him like fire. Now, there was nothing—only smooth, healed skin. Tia watched him, taking in the way he didn’t flinch at the touch, and how his skin color changed and reacted to the pressure he applied. His fingers traced where the wound should have been, but there was no trace of it, no tenderness, nothing. His gaze moved across Ivor’s body, remembering the wounds that had marred him. And yet, just like Zeph, he looked untouched.

Tia was a hell of a healer.

He had heard of the Aurelian’s prowess in the art, but to see it in action was something else entirely. His gaze flicked downward, catching the sight of the jagged scar along the left side of his abdomen—one that had never healed so cleanly. Her eyes followed the same path. A healer like her would have been useful then.

He exhaled, pushing himself to his feet and stretching, still only in his boxers. His body still ached, but it was dull—nothing compared to what it should have been. As he padded over to where his discarded clothes lay, he glanced back.

"Everyone feeling okay?" he asked, his gaze settling on Tia as he reached for his pants.

It was then that Tia realized she was still sitting on the cave floor, the furs piled around her. Without the small pocket of warmth they’d created, the chill was seeping into her again, doing nothing to help the stiffness she felt, or the way she wanted to curl in on herself and burrow back into Ivor’s fur. Her eyes flicked over Zeph, evaluating. She tried to just see a body.

Her eyes lingered on the familiar pink of scar tissue, jagged against smooth skin. She snapped her gaze back up to his and forced herself to nod.

Turning, she cast an appraising eye over the other member of their little group. Ivor, like Zeph, seemed to be adequately healed. If anything, he seemed to be doing the best of the three of them. Tia met his purple gaze, her heart jumping in her chest as she remembered the beast he’d transformed into. But he’d kept them warm. And he was smiling at her now, with his exuberant nature. Tia couldn’t help but give him a shy smile of her own, and a small nod of thanks.

He was also almost completely naked. As was Zeph. And Tia, while adequately clothed, was absolutely covered in their dried blood.

She sighed down at herself. Getting herself back into town while avoiding questions was going to be… difficult. What was she going to tell the twins? How long had they even been gone for?

Tia tried to swallow her worry and guilt as she looked down at her hands, covered in dark, flaking blood. The cold was already seeping back into her fingers.

At least they would be returning to town at all.

Something glittered in the periphery.

Tia didn’t move – not at first. She suddenly felt held in place, under the weight of something that burned and blistered where it touched her. It stilled the breath in her ragged throat. It erased the boundaries that made her, one by one.

She had eyes to see with, she reminded herself. They were still looking down at her hands. She could move them. She could touch, and feel.

She still wasn’t breathing as she turned her head to look at the small glowing gemstone, still sitting in a pool of diluted blood. Her golden dagger was beside it. Tia flexed her fingers in her lap, curling them in and out like she had to remind herself how to use them.

Then she reached out with a trembling hand to pick up the stone.

As Tia’s fingers closed around the gemstone, a shocking chill ran up her arm. To her alone, the glow of the gemstone pulsed, once, twice—then suddenly, a sharp crack echoed in her mind.

A voice, deep and filled with venomous rage, boomed from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Insolence!"

The voice seethed with fury and the word slammed into her like a physical blow, rattling through her. It was not merely spoken—it was felt, reverberating through her very bones.

The gemstone grew scalding in her palm, searing into her skin. Images flashed through her mind—a vast, endless abyss, spires of obsidian reaching toward a sky that didn’t exist. A towering humanoid figure stood before a massive stone circle embedded into a cavern wall, its surface fractured and etched with glowing runes. The figure’s skin was dark as the night sky, ears sharply pointed. Golden eyes, burning with something ancient and wrathful, pierced through shadows.

Then, the gemstone pulsed again—harder—forcing the breath from her lungs. The vision shattered and the cavern returned to eerie stillness. The gemstone lay in her trembling palm, cool to the touch.

It rolled along the tilting valley of her hand. Then it fell back into the bloody puddle with a sharp clatter and a pink splash.

Tia couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see anything but the gemstone – the imprint of blackness and gold and rage that had burned through her like it meant to turn her to ash.

No – Tia could breathe. But her chest was rising and falling at a speed that some part of her knew wasn’t correct. Icy air ripped through her ragged throat too quickly. Tia could breathe but she was suffocating as the gemstone’s fiery afterimage consumed all the air in the cavern.

Her whole body shook as she tried to scramble to her feet, only to catch on the end of her own bloodstained robe and fall backwards again. Her vision began to spot as she tried to push backwards, away from the gemstone laying innocently in its pool.

Half dressed—pants barely on, boots unlaced—Zeph’s eyes snapped up. Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her before she backed straight into the frigid waters of death.

“What? What happened?” he asked, his gaze following hers, landing on the gemstone. “That? What is it?” his brows furrowed together, glancing up at Ivor for answers.

Mid stretch Ivor watched as Tia gripped the stone only to recoil from it a fraction of a moment later. His eyes widened as he began to run forward, but Zeph was faster, stopping the priestess before she dunked herself into the frigid pool with ravenous fish. He was on both of them shortly after, kneeling next to the two, his gaze found the small rock just as Zeph inquired of it. “Ivor do not know, it is what I found down there,” he pointed back into the pool, “There was a cave Ivor could not reach, deep in crack I found that rock.”

The giant stood and approached the stone, kneeling down to pick it up, he finally got a chance to look it over now that he wasn’t fighting for his life. Its textures and hues were similar to that of the crystals in the cave, yet this stone felt wholly unnatural in this environment. Its circumference and diameter felt too even, too precise, almost as if it were carved by a master jeweler and purposefully set there, only for Ivor to find it. Almost instinctively, the giant bit down on the gem, ensuring its authenticity. Tia’s eyes widened, panic shooting through her… only to turn into confusion when he didn’t seem to have any reaction to the odd gem.

Ivor turned back to approach the two of them, stone carefully held in between his fingers. He knelt before them and looked at Tia, “Miss Priestess, are you alright? You do not have to be speaking the words, just blink one time for good and two time for bad.”

Tia looked up at him, her breath still too labored, body still too stiff. Her eyes flicked back to the stone, and how it almost seemed to shine from within. Like waking from a dream, the stark emotions she’d experienced through the vision were already draining from her, leaving her disoriented.

Was she alright? Her eyes remained focused on the gem as she tried to take stock of her own body - fingers, hands, arms, shoulders, up and down, only to find that she was still simply and sorely herself. The gem’s images flashed in her mind again. Zeph’s hand was heavy on her shoulder, grounding her. Ivor’s form towered high like the spires she’d seen. Her mind spun, trying to make sense of the odd vision, the sensations, the voice. But she was too overwhelmed – too exhausted and cold, to even begin to know how to process it all. She couldn’t even identify her own embarrassment at causing a scene, though she knew it must’ve been there somewhere.

Finally, she looked back up to Ivor. Over her shoulder at Zeph again. Back to Ivor. She tried to smile – it didn’t work. So instead she just blinked once at him.

Zeph exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. She was okay—or, at least, as okay as she could be. His gaze settled on the gemstone held between Ivor’s fingers, mind racing as he inspected what he could of it. Why had she reacted that way? Was this what she came here to find? Was it something she had lost? His lips parted to ask, but before the words could form, she began to shift.

After hours on the ground, Tia forced herself to stand on stiff, aching legs. Zeph hovered a hand near her arm, ready to catch her if she swayed. Even sitting, Ivor was still nearly eye-level with her. She tried to smile at him again, dusting her hands on her ruined robes. It was a little easier this time, at least. Tia forced in a slow breath to steady herself. Then she lifted the excess fabric of her belt. The sunrise orange fabric sat across her bloody palm as she looked back up at Ivor, silently requesting the gem back. Her hand still trembled, whether from the cold or her own frazzled nerves.

Ivor waited patiently, satisfied when she did finally blink, he gave a small smile. When presented with her outstretched, clothed palm he tentatively placed the gemstone within the open parcel. He waited a moment, ready to snatch it from her should she react the same way as before. It seemed though the cloth did it’s trick and was able to shield her from whatever pain it had inadvertently caused before. “Ivor is thinking, it may be time to return home,” he eyed her over, pale, bloodied, her expression wore tired, “Ivor means no offense, but you are looking really terribly right now.” His brow furrowed as he picked himself up to retrieve and don his furs on the cave floor. Her cheeks darkened, even as her eyes sparked with amusement and she huffed out a breath.

Zeph’s hazel eyes drifted over Tia’s body, taking her in. The memory of her bathed in golden light flashed in his mind. Gently, he took a strand of her blonde hair between his fingers—stiff and matted with dried blood. Eyes catching on the movement in her periphery, Tia turned slightly. She paused at the sight of the guard holding the filthy lock of hair. He inspected it briefly before letting it fall away and meeting her eyes.

“I think she looks tough.” he remarked, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Like a proper warrior.” He stepped closer, nudging her gently with his shoulder in a playful manner before winking. Tia’s heart stuttered in her chest. Somehow, despite her bashfulness and nerves, a surprising new emotion flickered within her: pride. A shy smile came to life on her face, meeting his own. With that, Zeph turned and strode off toward his scattered clothing.

“Hah!” The giant laughed as he stuck his arm through the hole cutout, “Yes! The warriors three! We must tell Sya and the others, they shall sing many songs in our honor!”

Tia watched him for a moment, that fragile pride following after him. When she pulled back into herself, her smile was soft and thoughtful. But it drifted away, when she refocused on the gem in her hand. It felt too heavy – or maybe that was just the weight of her own questions and worries pressing down into her palm. The images flashed in her mind again. That searing hate. Tia chewed her lip, unsure of what she was supposed to do with this. Why had she been sent to find this? By whom? The Arch Priest’s warnings echoed in her mind again – her unreliable dreams. He’d warned of darker influences.

Tia’s fingers curled, cocooning the gem in a layer of fabric. Opening the edge of her robe, she slipped the gem into the inner pocket, pressed awkwardly against the stiff, folded pages of the Arch Priest’s letter.

Once fully dressed, Zeph stepped to where the spear lay half-submerged in shallow water. “Can’t forget your weapon… again.” he muttered, inspecting the pool for any ravenous fish that might be nearby and waiting to take a finger off. When he finally picked up the spear, he walked over to Ivor, the weight of it heavy in his hand.

“Here.” he said, offering the weapon to the giant. Just as the word left his mouth, his stomach growled. Loudly. Zeph grimaced and let out a heavy sigh. What he wouldn’t give for one of those sweet treats from the tavern right about now…

As Ivor reached out for the weapon, the audible echo of the man’s stomach in front of him, elicited a soft chuckle from him, probably the quietest laugh they’d heard from him yet. He finished reaching out for the weapon, firmly grasping it, and Zeph released the staff into Ivor’s care.

There was a faint sound – almost a laugh, though it was breathy and rasping. Tia brought the back of her palm up to hide her amused smile. Zeph’s eyes snapped to her, narrowing in a look that was half a glare, half a smirk—mock offense layered beneath obvious amusement. For a moment, he fixed her with an expression as if to say, ‘Oh, you think this is funny?’ His lips pressed into a firm line, fighting the urge to laugh along with her, but the glint in his hazel eyes betrayed him.

When she lowered her hand again her expression was controlled as she looked between the two men. Tia couldn’t help but feel responsible for them. It was their blood she was covered in, afterall. It was her mission they’d set out on. And though it seemed the danger had passed (she hoped… there was still the return trip to deal with) the men were still under her care.

And clearly one of them was hungry.

Tia glanced around, her dark eyes finding where her bag was discarded on the cave floor. It didn’t have much… a small biscuit and a mixed pouch of nuts and dried, candied berries. It was a snack, but likely wasn’t filling enough for the guard, with how much energy (and magic) they’d had to expend and how long they’d been out in this expedition for. Tia knew at least Ivor had… fed… but if she was honest, she felt the sharp pangs of hunger, too. The thought of having to trek all the way back to Dawnhaven in the snow without anything in her stomach was daunting to say the least.

But then her gaze caught on her golden ceremonial dagger — and the flickering fish swimming in the pool. She paused. Then she walked the few short steps to her dagger to pick it up off the ground. The metal was an icy shock against her skin, and Tia let out a short breath, a stunned white cloud fluttering in front of her. Steeling herself, she curled her fingers around it fully. The dried, rusty blood that coated her skin was a sharp contrast to the dagger’s glittering opulence. Tia felt dirtier somehow, with it in her hand. But she swallowed back her unease, straightening up again to smile at Zeph and Ivor. She held up the dagger in one hand, pointing to the pool with the other. She couldn’t fight or keep them from getting hurt, but Tia had other ways of caring for her companions.

“Fish?” Her broken voice bounced softly around the walls of the cave, offering itself to them.

The two watched as Tia made her way to the water, pointing at it with her dagger suggesting they eat the fish in the water. It was only fair since the fish did try eating them first, a big grin on his face as he nodded back to her, “Fish.” Clapping Zeph lightly on the shoulder he approached the pool of water and crouched, watching the fish as they lazily swam in the water. It was just the same as when he was first here, serene, calm, easy prey to catch so long as one wasn’t bleeding. Ivor’s eyes narrowed as he readied the spear by his side, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The giant fully allowed instinct to take over, his periphery fading as he focused on his target. Then, swiftly, a flash of steel pierced the water with nary a splash, retreating almost as quickly as it entered the water. As the blade emerged, a fish was impaled upon it, spluttering and flailing as it tried to ‘escape’ this deadly predator that had caught it.

Ivor stood up, planting the ball end of the spear upon the ground, fish corpse spasming on the bladed end. The man’s smile never ceased as he exclaimed to the two of them, “Fish!”

Tia blinked with wide eyes at the display, stunned by Ivor’s… efficiency. The fish flailed helplessly on the spear. Sparing a glance at Zeph (did he even like fish?) she hurried towards Ivor as she began rolling up her sleeves. The chill pricked at her bare skin, though she tried to put it from her mind.

It had been some time since Tia’d prepared a fish, but she knew she had to move quickly now that the process had begun. She wished she had a needle – even her hairpins, that she seemed to have lost at some point in the last week. But all she had was the golden dagger that glittered in her hand. It would have to do (Aelios, forgive me.).

The fish flopped in the air above Tia’s head. With her free hand, she reached up to wrap her fingers around its cold, scaly head. She pressed her lips together against the sensation – the slick scales, how it tried to fight her as she held it steady, muscles straining against her own. She took in a breath. Then she slid the tip of her dagger up into the fish’s eye. The fish flinched, spasming one last time, fins flaring at its sides. Then it went limp.

At least the dagger was sharp.

The blade was wider than the tool she’d used as a child, slicing the eye clean in half and cutting into the meat around the socket. Normally it would’ve been a sort of curved spike to pierce the brain, a…

Tia couldn’t remember the name.

She moved automatically as she pulled the fish from the spear, and walked towards the pool. A handful of slices with her dagger found the fish open and held over the water, blood and entrails splashing as they fell. Tia watched as the living fish frenzied again. Her eyes were distant as the fish cleaned the water, and soon enough went docile again.

…What was its name?

Ivor watched as the priestess removed the fish from his weapon, briefly considering consuming the aquatic soul before she began cleaning it for consumption. Then he thought better against it, the day had already been trying enough without more reminders that they lived among monsters. Ivor smiled, slinging the staff over his shoulder as he approached the entrance to the cavern. Stopping at the door he turned briefly to the others, “Ivor is going outside, need to see sky, see the clouds, feel the wind, make sure it is safe for journey back to Dawnhaven.” He nodded, “Eat, Ivor will be back soon.” With that the giant exited the cave, leaving the two alone with the other’s company.

Tia found a relatively clean and dry spot on the cave floor. Pulling out a small handkerchief, she smoothed it over the stone and placed the fish atop. Muscle memory took over as she sliced with the dagger. Though beautiful, it was an imperfect tool for the job. But she’d learned from a young age how to make do with what was available.

Food had been plentiful and varied at the Sunfire Citadel in Aurelia’s capital – but Tia had spent her childhood far away, in a poor Ember Isle temple. The villagers had little to spare. Fish had been a common offering when they sought Aelios’ favor, and even in the reverence of the temple, the keepers of Her flame couldn’t afford to give the entire gift to the Goddess. The girls had all been taught to clean and prepare a fish for eating, with and without fire.

Tia moved through the steps that she didn’t even know she remembered – slicing away the top layer of flesh, scanning for parasites with her magic, filleting the pink meat. It was almost meditative, the knife sliding through the fish as Tia searched her mind for bits of language she could no longer grasp.

Zeph watched in quiet curiosity as she worked, her movements steady and practiced, suggesting that this wasn’t her first time. He hadn’t expected an Aurelian Priestess to know her way around such dirty work. Was this something they were all taught, or did she pick it up elsewhere? Either way, it was another interesting piece of her he hadn’t anticipated.

His gaze dropped to the dagger she used—elegant, expensive, finely crafted. Not the kind of blade that was meant for gutting fish. Nonetheless, it got the job done with ease. She was far more careful with her cuts than he would have been, taking her time, ensuring precision. He would have worked faster—messier—but she treated the task with care. He found himself watching every motion a little more closely than he had meant to, filing the details away.

She blinked back to herself when the work was done. Tia looked down at the row of meat, little pink rectangles offering themselves up to her. There wasn’t much, but it was something. The fish hadn’t been very large, and the hole Ivor had pierced through it meant some meat was lost. The cuts were imperfect – slightly crooked here, uneven there. The corner of her mouth twitched up as she looked at the sparse meal she’d prepared. Something small and melancholic sat in the space behind her heart.

Sister Fumi would’ve offered her no praise for this work. But she would’ve eaten it all the same.

Remembering her two companions, Tia looked up to find the guard and the barbarian – she blinked, only finding one of them. Ah… right. Ivor had stepped out. Tia stilled at the way Zeph watched her intently, hazel eyes focused on her. Suddenly shy, she looked back down at her unseasoned, ungarnished meal. Then she forced herself to smile and look back up at her remaining companion. Tia gestured with an open palm towards the cut meat.

“Fish.”

Suspicion flickered across Zeph’s face and he eyed the pieces for a long moment. The fish here were strange, iridescent things that shimmered unnaturally in the water. Unlike any he’d seen before. Were they even safe to eat? Were they blighted? They certainly acted feral enough to be blighted. He crouched down beside her, leaning in to scrutinize the meat as if he’d somehow be able to tell just by looking. Tia faltered, leaning slightly away as her cheeks warmed at his sudden proximity. She watched his face for signs of approval… or disgust.

Zeph’s options ran through his mind. He could refuse, keep starving, and make the long, grueling trek back to Dawnhaven on an empty stomach. He always got so grumpy when he was hungry. Or he could eat and risk… death, maybe. Food poisoning, at best. Not the worst outcome, really. Maybe he’d get so sick they’d put him on bed rest for a week. Maybe he’d drop dead and never have to return to boring watch duty ever again. A win-win.

Zeph grabbed a piece of fish, tossed it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Decision made.

Encouraged, Tia gingerly picked up a portion for herself and ate.

“You sure know your way around a knife.” he remarked, giving Tia a lopsided smirk. “I’m sure the Prince will be glad for it.”

All the color drained from Tia’s face. She felt bled and gutted like the fish she’d just prepared, ceremonial dagger still dirty in her hand.

The dagger she was meant to slide between the Prince’s ribs.

Suddenly she wasn’t hungry at all. The small piece of fish sat heavy and rotting in her chest. Reality came crashing back into her, all her worries and problems and responsibilities. The Arch Priest. The jewel. The Queen. Her visions. Tia retreated back into herself, looking down at the row of fish meat.

Unable to look back up to the guard, Tia gestured with her open palm at the fish and then back up to him. She gave a quick, stuttering nod of her head. Tia couldn’t get back to her feet fast enough. Still not looking at Zeph, she started readying herself to leave this strange dream of a cave. Her mind buzzed frantically as she cleaned her hands and the dagger in the least bloody puddle she could find, gathered her things. Soon enough, she stood. Tia rolled her sleeves back down, heavy and stiff with dried blood, and curled her fingers tightly to hide within the cloth. At least that way she could keep from twisting them nervously around each other. She tried to appear more as a proper High Priestess, rather than a poor, filthy, foolish child.

Exhausted, bloodsoaked, and full of new secrets that she didn’t know how to voice, Tia waited silently for her escort to begin their trek. It was time to return to Dawnhaven.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Northwestern Watchtower}

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Elio prided himself on many things; one of which was being a difficult man to catch off guard.

Pain, sharp and searing, burned the curve of his jaw, like fire catching along the arc of a dry branch. Finally – the spark he’d been waiting for all day. Elio had been expecting a swing. Maybe not at that precise moment, but he’d always made a game of goading and prodding, waiting to see what it would take for someone else to finally break. No, the punch itself wasn’t a surprise.

But the force.

Elio knew what Aliseth punched like, and it sure as fuck wasn’t that. Lightning fast, hard as granite… and a sucker punch? More oddities in Aliseth’s behavior that Elio didn’t care to examine right now.

Not when the little prick had just decided to use magic to clock him.

Elio’s eyes were back on the guard in an instant, alight with anticipation as crackling ozone primed every muscle in his body. His fingers twitched. The corner of his mouth lifted, nearly imperceptible, even as pain echoed through his jaw. It fueled his anger, his need for action. Amber eyes met Aliseth’s stony gaze for a charged moment, the breath before a storm could rip the sky apart.

But because everyone was a fuckin’ prude, they decided to put a stop to Elio’s fun before it’d even begun.

Hightower, that little slip of parchment paper, forced her way between the two men. In the next breath, Elio was forced backwards in a chaotic swirl of wind and snow. White filled his vision – and when it cleared, he found Aliseth on the opposite side of the sage, a trail of cobblestone grey cutting through the layer of snow where his feet had been pushed back. Elio refocused on the small woman blocking him now, eyes darting swiftly over her outstretched palms, how she had her back to him, the way her voice carried desperately through the unnatural night air. His mind worked, adding this surprising new facet to what he knew of her. Maybe there was some fight in her, afterall.

And then the little sapling of a guard took it upon herself to defend him, too. Elio was almost entertained. He could’ve laughed.

Charlotte hadn’t even finished speaking by the time Elio began to move. He stalked forward, eyes trained on Aliseth. He didn’t slow his stride as he approached the two women. Instead, without a falter in his step, Elio sent his magic down, through his foot and into the very ground he walked on. It shot forward, commanding the cobblestones directly beneath Charlotte and Eris. It was precise, subtle work. The stones raised and lowered in a wave that washed their steps to either side. The stones followed their stumbling footsteps, catching and directing them until the two women stood apart and his path was cleared. Elio’s eyes never left Aliseth as he stalked between Eris and Charlotte – he’d learned that lesson.

“Neither do I.” His voice was low and filled with promise as he answered Charlotte’s reprimand. His fingers were already curling into a fist. His muscles were already pulling his arm back, his eyes flashing, the blow –

Halting.

Elio’s fist froze a scant inch away from the side of Aliseth’s head. The guard hadn’t even flinched. Hadn’t moved a muscle, in fact. He just watched Elio with those cold eyes, waiting for the punch to land. Elio’s eyes narrowed, his eyebrows drawing together slightly.

The thing was, Elio hadn’t intended for this punch to actually hit. It’d just been a feint, meant to move Aliseth where Elio wanted as he dodged. Except… the dodge hadn’t come. It was like Aliseth wanted to get hit.

He was still staring at him.

Anger suddenly swelled in Elio’s chest — frustration at Aliseth and how he’d been acting all day, latent concern over Zeph, the restlessness he’d felt that beckoned him to shake off the dust and snow and make everyone remember exactly who he was… It all swirled together in a potent mix as Elio watched Aliseth, his fist tightening even further. But still, he didn’t move.

Something wasn’t right. Aliseth wasn’t right. The image of him from earlier flashed in his mind again, storming through the tavern, bags under his eyes, covered in blood that he still hadn’t cleaned off. Another image appeared — earlier, from a week ago. An indulgent smile that he tried to hide, rolled eyes, a soft voice.

Something new joined his swirl of emotions that Elio would never admit to: care. Fuck, but he cared that Aliseth had apparently gotten wrecked badly enough that it’d turned him into a little shit. This wasn’t just a bad mood or a loss of patience. Aliseth was different.

Elio’s fist didn’t uncurl. He didn’t relax. But slowly, inch by inch, his arm lowered until it was back down at his side again. His eyes darted between Aliseth, the damned care staining all his other emotions and only serving to piss him off even more.

“Get your head sorted, Seth.” It wasn’t soft, not exactly. But the words were low, held in the space between them. Elio forced himself to take a step back. “Before someone else gets killed.”

Elio watched Aliseth, this new version of him that he didn’t recognize, for a long moment. Then he turned, putting his back to the man that’d swung on him mere moments ago. He moved, following the path he’d carved for himself between Charlotte and Eris.

But as he walked between the two women again, Elio spared the sage a single glance — firelight eyes flickered, reevaluating. He held her gaze for the span of a single breath.

Then he moved on. For the first time in his life, Elio walked away from a fight.

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth Kain @Dark Light, Charlotte Hawthorne @SpicyMeatball, Eris Hightower @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: Guard Tower}

---

---

Elio cast a glance over his shoulder as he descended the steps.

“And spoil my fun?” he tossed back at the guard, a note of humor in his voice. His mirth left him though, when he emerged from the guard tower to find a familiar figure stomping his way towards them. His smile dropped. Anger reestablished its hold over him.

“Look alive, Cadet,” he muttered, eyes never leaving Aliseth. When he was close enough, Elio brightened, his voice clearing a path through the falling snow.

“Guard Kain,” he called, smile wide and eyes sharp. “I was hopin’ to see you again. I wanted to thank you for pointing me towards the temple. Body wasn’t Zeph’s.” Elio watched him, taking in any hint of a reaction – confusion, guilt, smugness... any clue to whether Aliseth’s bad info had been a lie or a mistake.

In his mind’s eye, he saw that smile from the tavern again.

“Abel’s actually, may Seluna welcome his soul.” Elio’s gaze flicked over Aliseth’s shoulder, to find a lost little soul trailing after him. He paused though, as recognition flared: Hightower. She looked dazed and forlorn, with vacant eyes as she floated after Aliseth like a specter.

Elio found himself oddly… disappointed. He didn’t know her well, beyond the passing look or comment and her answering flustered blush. But he was used to seeing her move with a certain surety of purpose. She was meant to be the best in her field, as far as Dawnhaven was concerned. Wasn’t she their resident blight expert? And she all but shut down in a crisis?

Turning his attention back to Aliseth, Elio refocused.

“That blighter must’ve really fucked you up if you couldn’t tell them apart. Especially since I heard you and Zeph made a joint report to the old captain.” Elio faked a look of concern. He kept his voice loud, drawing the attention of any in the vicinity close enough to hear. “Is it the trauma that’s got you falling to pieces?” he goaded, lifting a hand to tap two fingers against the side of Aliseth's head. “Maybe you should go have a lie down. Seems you're not fit for much at the moment, and it'd be such a shame if the town had another highborn girl go missing on your watch.” Elio let the edge back into his voice, eyes flicking back to the sage.

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth Kain @Dark Light, Charlotte Hawthorne @SpicyMeatball, Eris Hightower @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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

Part III

---

Beyond the threshold, Elara stood in rigid stillness, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, the tension coiling through her frame like a vice. The steady, insistent drum of her heartbeat reverberated in her ears, a relentless cadence that refused to be silenced. Against her palm, she could still perceive the ghostly vestige of Amaya’s touch, a lingering warmth that once felt sacrosanct—now marred by the inescapable presence of the man within that room. The intimacy they had shared, once untainted and inviolate, now seemed eclipsed by an unwelcome reality, a fracture she could neither name nor ignore.

Not as a Princess but as you.

They were meant to be reassuring, those words crafted to offer solace, a promise that Amaya had found a champion willing to stand unwavering by her side in ways Elara never could (at least in ways that were enough for Amaya). And yet, the words did not soothe; instead, they festered, hollow and discordant, resonating with a quiet devastation she dared not voice.

The most lamentable aspect, however, lay in the irrefutable truth that Flynn’s assertions weren’t devoid of merit. His concern was well-placed and resonated with an almost palpable intensity. Amid her corporeal torment-an insistent throb in her ribs- and the smouldering ire roiling just beneath her skin, Elara discerned an undeniable reality: Amaya required Flynn’s presence as fervently as she herself craved companionship. And the sooner she accepted this, the better off she would be.

She didn’t want to go back inside.

Nonetheless, the moment came when…

The door emitted a lamenting creak as Elara reentered the room. Her gaze found Amaya immediately, flickering briefly to the hand still resting on Flynn’s knee. Something passed through her expression before she quickly schooled it into neutrality. Amaya lifted her hand away from Flynn like a reflex.

“I brought the water,” Elara announced, brandishing the pitcher she had ostensibly retrieved as a pretext to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.

Flynn’s eyes briefly flickered to the empty spot on his knee, the sudden absence of Amaya’s warmth striking him more sharply than he’d expected. He glanced up toward her, noticing her gaze locked on Elara, before turning his attention to Elara himself. Tension thickened the air, suffocating in its weight. He wasn’t sure if it was Amaya’s magic, chilling the room, or his own selfishness that caused the shift—Elara’s interruption, the reason Amaya had pulled away.

“Thank you.” he said, straightening slightly and focusing his gaze on Elara. He wasn’t sure whether to address the tension that hung in the air or let it remain, but he was acutely aware of it. For now, he said nothing more, letting the moment stretch into awkward silence.

Amaya’s nerves grew, pressing against the boundaries of her body. The quiet calm of the previous moment evaporated. Elara captured her focus — the still way she held herself, her carefully neutral expression, how she hadn’t approached beyond entering the room and now stood so very far away like she couldn’t close the distance.

Amaya knew the words. They were thick and heavy in her throat.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” They were quiet, but they crossed the distance of the room, reaching for her only friend. Amaya held her breath, watching for any sign of forgiveness. “I’m sorry.” It seemed she couldn’t stop apologizing to Elara today.

Elara’s grip on the pitcher tightened, her knuckles blanching under the strain. A brittle silence stretched in response, but inside, her thoughts churned like a storm-tossed sea. Amaya’s apology was expected-inevitable even- but it did little to soothe the wound left by their earlier exchange.

Did she even understand what she had done? Or was this just another attempt to smooth things over?

Elara’s gaze drifted past Amaya to Flynn, sitting there as if he belonged-as if he had always belonged. The possessive way his presence filled the room, the quiet confidence with which he’d taken up space in Amaya’s life, gnawed at something deep within Elara that she couldn’t name.

But no. She could now.

Loss.

Sucking in a measured breath, Elara finally advanced, setting the pitcher on the bedside table. Upon regaining her stance, her gaze reconnected with Amaya’s, and therein, she detected something that resurrected her melancholic longing anew.

Guilt. And more alarmingly fear.

Amaya feared losing her, and Elara knew it.

But fear was not enough. Fear was never enough. And fear was never going to be enough.

The words were there just the same, resting on the tip of her tongue- I know, it’s alright, we’re alright- but they felt too much like surrender. Thus, her lips formed a muted line, and, after an oppressive pause, she inclined her head with the slightest gesture.

“You should rest while Lady Hightower is still away,” she said at last, her voice offering neither forgiveness nor reproach, only a quiet suggestion wrapped in duty. Duty-because it was easier than facing what truly lay between them.

Amaya felt the shift in the air. It was subtle – but undeniable. Her blood stilled in her veins as something she couldn’t name started to crawl its way through her. Elara’s detached tone fractured something inside her.

Elara’s fingers brushed the periphery of the table and she hesitated a little before she retreated, reestablishing distance. “We’ll talk later,” she added, softer now, but with a finality that left little room for argument. Without waiting for Amaya’s reply, Elara turned her attention to Flynn, offering him the barest nod of acknowledgment-polite, distant, and a reminder that despite everything, her place in this room remained secondary to his. Her footsteps then ushered her to the window, where her gaze traversed the nocturnal expanse beyond, even as her mind remained detached from its landscape.

Was it more painful that she hadn’t left the room? Amaya couldn’t tell. Elara’s rejection – because that’s what it’d been, a rejection – created a new storm within her. It whipped up all her broken pieces, their razor edges tearing at her from the inside out, even as she tried to cling to Elara’s promise of talk.

Her face was blank. She couldn’t move. The only changes were the slight tensing of her brow and the way her pupils grew and shrank, as she grappled with this new reality where Elara stood on the other side of the room, and she didn’t look at Amaya with love and gentleness.

She wanted to go to her – to beg her forgiveness, to see the places she’d hurt Elara so she could make it right. But she was frozen in place. The blanket covering her legs was ledden. And Elara chose to stand apart from her, cold and beautiful as the winter, staring out the window.

Suddenly she realized why it hurt so much, why it was worse that Elara had remained: because without warmth, or concern, or even anger, there was nothing but cold obligation to keep her in this room. And for Amaya’s entire life, that was all she had ever known until Elara.

Amaya’s breath escaped her in a tiny wisp, barely visible. The water began to freeze in the pitcher beside her.

Flynn’s gaze shifted from Elara to Amaya, feeling the suffocating weight of unspoken words between them. The frozen detachment in Amaya’s eyes wasn’t entirely unfamiliar—it was a dissociation he had seen from her before, one that left him feeling helpless every time. Seeing it now tore at him, and a flicker of annoyance rose within him, directed at Elara for causing it in the first place.

But this wasn’t the first time he’d seen a standoff like this. Memories of his sisters flashed in his mind—fiery arguments, wounded silences, and the inevitable mending that always followed. This felt uncomfortable, but familiar.

He considered leaving, giving them the privacy they clearly needed. Staying might only make things worse. Nothing he said or did ever seemed to truly soothe Amaya—not really, not when it mattered most. The thought twisted viciously in his chest.

He tried to shake off creeping doubt, reminding himself of the way she had melted into him—the way she looked at him. That proved his insecure thoughts were wrong... didn’t it? Uncertainty gnawed at him, but he clung to the memory, hoping it outweighed the fear that he was wrong.

His sisters had always just needed time to cool off, but time wasn’t a luxury they had now. He briefly looked at the pitcher of water, ice crystals forming along the surface. No, they needed a push—space to bridge whatever divide had grown between them without his presence hovering nearby.

Flynn leaned in closer to Amaya, his hand reaching for the one she had pulled away from him earlier. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said softly, his voice steady as he wrapped his warm fingers around hers. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before lifting it to his lips, pressing a gentle parting kiss against her skin. “I’m going to check with the guards on the search status,” His gaze lingered on hers, holding a silent promise that he would return.

Yet beneath that lay another unspoken question. Did she want him to stay? To leave? She gave nothing away, leaving him caught in a maddening uncertainty that was both frustrating and, in some strange way, exhilarating.

Slowly, he released her hand and rose to his feet, gathering his boots and slipping them on. His coat and sword still rested at the edge of the bed, waiting where he had left them. Flynn strapped the blade to his waist and shrugged his coat over his shoulders.

For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes flicking to Elara where she stood by the window, her back to them both. She remained distant, unmoving. Finally, Flynn turned back to Amaya, his gaze lingering on her one last time before he stepped toward the door.

“I won’t be long,” he said quietly as he opened the door. He could only hope he’d made the right choice—that giving them this moment would allow them to mend whatever rift had grown. Still, he intended to make it quick, if only for fear that Amaya would cover the entire room in ice by the time he returned.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

_{Location: Guard Tower}

---

---

“And you find this acceptable?” Elio cocked his head to the side. His eyes sharpened, even as his smile remained on his face. “All this fucking up?” he asked, gesturing towards her with a lazy wave of his hand. “Better yet, fucking up and then lamenting to the world about it?”

Come on Darling, have some dignity.

Elio took a breath, ignoring all the questions she’d asked him, all the information she’d demanded. It wasn’t like it’d help her do her job, anyway, or stop her from embarrassing herself with her own insecurities. He looked back out over Dawnhaven. Tiny, busy bodies cluttered the streets, the ebb and flow of directionless crowd control. His patience was wearing thin. The second he’d seen her passed out he’d figured she wouldn’t have anything useful for him. Screw it. He was already pretty sure Zeph was alive, and he was getting tired of wasting energy looking for him, when he’d probably just fucked off to find some fun of his own.

Elio turned back to the guard, firelight eyes drifting over her. He took in the nervous way she shifted her feet, how her eyes measured the distance between him and her shield.

“You’re green.” The observation was as blunt as it was bored. “Unfortunately for you, it’s winter and the growing season’s passed.” Elio huffed out a breath of air that might’ve been a laugh. The small cloud billowed and dissipated, as his eyes watched her. “But I guess I feel bad for you, that you’ve got Hale as a partner,” he said with a cheeky smile that was anything but sympathetic. “So you can have this for free.” Elio pushed himself off of the post, standing to his full height again. His arms unfolded slowly, a hand raising as he began to count off on his fingers one by one. “A feral attacked. The princess is missing. Abel, one of your more reliable guardsmen, is dead. Town’s on lockdown. Culprit’s still loose.” Each new statement brought him another step closer to her, until he was close enough to pick apart the individual freckles on her face in the flickering firelight. He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her, hand still aloft. Elio wiggled his fingers slightly.

“Best get to work,” he said, voice low. His hand dropped slowly, lest she get even jumpier than she already was. “Before someone pulls you like a weed.” He spent another moment looking at her, with her slate grey eyes. His smile widened.

Elio stepped away, turning back towards the ladder.

“You find Hale and he’s not dead, tell him Elio’s gonna kick his ass.”

---

_{Interactions: Charlotte Hawthorne @SpicyMeatball}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Guard Tower}

---

---

“Oi, Azkona! You can’t –”

“Piss off, Tav.”

Frantic activity filled Dawnhaven, triggered by the tolling of the bell. The guards were buzzing around like flies over rotting meat. Citizens scurried through the streets, eager to find refuge, or else a big bad blight-born would huff and puff and blow them all away like crumbs. They were acting like crumbs.

Elio stalked his way through the streets, his path steady, his mind working. His conversation with the blighted girl played again in his ears, her words, the bits of the timeline he’d pieced together, Aliseth’s lies. He knew he couldn’t just take the girl’s words at face value, but he couldn’t just write it off, either. She’d given too much detail. And while it was still possible she’d used some kind of psychic magic to grab information, Elio just couldn’t see her as a threat yet. Not when a guard hated her so obviously, and the town was on such high alert. If she had proven to be suspicious in any way, she would’ve already been dealt with.

So where to go now? Secondhand information and suspicions were only so much to go on, and he wanted answers. He wanted action, now that he’d gotten a whiff of something brewing. The buzzing energy in the air pushed him forward.

Fuck Aliseth and his Moon Temple tip. Elio had half a mind to go check it out anyway, but the rage he felt when he’d learned Aliseth had lied about Zeph’s death still simmered in his blood. Trying to find this crime scene was another option, but one that would probably prove to be more trouble than it was worth. It’d likely be cordoned off by now, covered in guards trying to do damage control. It was one thing to blow off a passing guard’s orders to take shelter. It’d be another to try and muscle his way into an active crime scene.

The promise of a challenge almost made him want to try it.

But without the Moon Temple or the crime scene as options, Elio’s next thought was to go find Zeph. Verify that the little prat was alive, see what he knew, get into some trouble figuring out what all this mess was. Zeph would be game. He loved trouble.

A few quick brushes with guards verified that someone had seen him alive recently (I’m gonna snap Kain in half.) and someone else was pretty sure he and his new partner were scheduled for a rotation at the guard tower near the alchemy chambers. The tower loomed in the distance, growing taller and taller as Elio approached. The top glowed with the warm light of a fire, smoke drifting into the winter air.

He didn’t bother knocking. Elio let himself in, took the steps two at a time, emerging into the open top of the guard tower with its roof supported only by four wooden posts to find…

No Zeph. Just a single guard. Asleep.

Fuckin’ amateurs.

It really was impressive how consistently shit they were proving to be.

She was young. Clearly freezing, based on the way she huddled herself under her cloak, her nose and cheeks pink. Dark strands of hair tangled themselves around her face, and the sun had speckled her tanned skin.

Her eyes darted beneath their lids. Elio watched the way her eyebrows scrunched together ever so slightly, the way her body pulled in on itself under the fabric of her cloak as she started to wake herself. Crossing his arms, he took the moment to lean against one of the tower’s wooden posts.

The guard snapped awake. It was like she’d been dunked in water, the way she gasped and scrambled upright. Her eyes flew open, a blue so colorless they were nearly grey.

A dark eyebrow raised. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a dry smirk.

“Morning, sunshine.” Elio’s voice was bright and cheerful as he watched the guard sputter and reorient herself. No wonder the town’s security was absolute shit. At least this one was something to look at, even if her incompetence was pissing him off. “I take it you haven’t seen a Zephyros Hale recently, then?” His smirk grew. “Not even in your dreams?” Elio took a moment to examine the guard tower, looking over his shoulder at the streets below, as if he were only now considering its purpose. “Shame,” he said, turning his attention back to the guard. “Bet you could’ve seen plenty, this high up.”

---

_{Interactions: Charlotte Hawthorne @SpicyMeatball}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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

Part I

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gadez’s soft smile flashed in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jails have guards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This had been a terrible idea.

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

Church matters.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no.

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

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

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

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

You don’t have to punch Ivor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps this was a Lunarian custom.

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

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

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

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

Please don’t tell anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

---

To High Priestess Tingara Tomae,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May Aelios’ radiance guide your path,

Arch Priest Iakovou
Grand Illuminary of the Kingdom of Aurelia

---

---

To Her Royal Majesty, Queen Viviana of Aurelia,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the light and warmth of the Sun,

Tingara Tomae
High Priestess of the Church of Aelios

---

_{Written in collaboration with @The Muse}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she looked from his face to the fish.

_{...Tiiin…Gaaaa…Raaaaaa…}

Time stopped.

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

_{Where are the stars, Tingara?}

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

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

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

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

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

Tia blinked at him, fresh alarm on her face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stars above, he can’t read.

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

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

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

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

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

Please show me?

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

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

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

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

I need to follow the crystals.

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

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

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

She met Ivor’s gaze again. She nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like stars.

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

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

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

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

But still, her gaze stayed on the box.

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

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

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

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

Post office first?

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

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

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

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