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Elena took her time walking back to the bakery.

It wasn’t trepidation that slowed her—it was more like an ingrained compulsion to assess before advancing. The way things had unraveled earlier? That wasn’t the kind of ordeal one simply walked away from without so much as a backward glance.

As she approached the familiar avenue, however, her stride faltered even more. 

The bakery stood at the end of the block, its once-inviting storefront now carrying an air of subtle damage control. The “CLOSED” sign in the window was a formality—given the unusual early closure, anyone passing by would already know something had happened. Still, Elena came to a stop a few feet away, letting her gaze sweep the exterior.

At first glance, nothing had changed—the same powder-blue awning stretched overhead, the same neatly arranged flower boxes nestled beneath the windows. But the illusion shattered upon closer inspection. The front-facing glass bore the ghosts of frantic scrubbing, streaks of cleanser clinging to the surface like faint scars. The sidewalk, normally pristine, bore fresh scuff marks—subtle, but damning—suggesting that something heavy had been dragged, though whether it was furniture or something more unsettling, she couldn’t be sure.

The faintest hint of disinfectant clung to the air.

They had worked quickly, that was for certain. 

She stepped forward, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the glare as she leaned toward the window. The interior had been set to rights, or at least as much as a place could be after something like this. The shattered display cases had vanished, their absence concealed beneath plastic drapery and an artful arrangement of chairs, an attempt at normalcy that felt more like an apology to any disappointed customer that drifted past. 

And yet, it still didn’t feel right.

It wasn’t just the missing mess. It was the emptiness of it all. 

No customers. No warmth. Just a bakery that looked lived-in but abandoned, like someone had tried to put everything back together but couldn’t quite erase what had happened.

Elena hesitated just outside the door, weighing her approach. The bakery had taken a hit, and waltzing in uninvited might not be the most tactful move. Then again, she wasn’t exactly a regular customer anymore, was she?

Exhaling softly, she raised her knuckles and rapped against the door.

Collab between @The Muse and @Qia
Previous Day
 
Shortly after Amaya is healed | Location: The Royal Home

Flynn descended the steps quickly, holding onto what little energy remained in him for the day. His mind was set—letters needed to be sent, orders needed to be made. A plan, at least, gave him something to focus on. As he reached the bottom step, he turned toward the living room, only to pause at the sight of Orion seated near the window, his crimson gaze fixed on the frosted landscape beyond the glass.  

Orion’s gaze lingered on the frost-kissed glass, the icy pane a mirror reflecting his silhouette against the obsidian night. His mind remained ensnared in the labyrinth of the morning’s events,  each recollection shifting like fragments of a shattered mosaic—the misdirection spun like a spider’s web, the lifeless flesh pinned beneath the stone, the realization that they had not been hunters but the hunted, their every step orchestrated by unseen hands.

And yet, the village still endured.

For the moment, at least. 

“Orion,” Flynn said as he moved through the entryway, a weak smile reaching his lips. Relief settled in his chest at the familiar presence. Just the person he needed to see right now. 

At the prince’s voice, Orion turned, his crimson eyes meeting Flynn’s with an unwavering, discerning focus. A bit of relief passed through the young ruler’s expression, but it was fleeting, swallowed swiftly by the pallor of exhaustion. Orion saw it—etched in the rigid set of Flynn’s shoulders, the faint crease at his brow, the weary tautness of a man who bore a town’s weight upon his spine. He knew. Knew that an unseen sword still dangled above them, its blade poised, patient, and promising.

Orion rose smoothly from his seat, his movements fluid despite the exhaustion creeping into his own limbs.

“Have you been waiting long? I was just on my way to the study…” He took a step forward, gesturing toward the far doorway leading to his private office. “Care to join me?”

“Long enough,” he admitted, though there was no reproach in his tone.

His gaze shifted toward the study. A private conversation. It was necessary. There were things that needed to be said beyond the ears of those around them.

Orion gave a slight nod. “Lead the way.”

Without another word, he fell into step beside Flynn. 

Crossing the room, Flynn pushed the door open and held it for Orion before shutting it quietly behind them. Despite the darkness that swallowed them, Flynn moved about the room with ease, tracing a path he had countless times before. Reaching his desk, he all but collapsed into the chair, exhaling a slow, weary sigh. 

“I assume you heard all that happened with the Princess today?” He asked, focusing his gaze on the glow of Orion’s eyes cutting through shadow. With a quick flick of his fingers, candlelight flickered to life in an instant, casting a warm glow across the study’s dark wooden walls. 

Orion remained standing, his posture straight, arms folding behind his back as his gaze settled upon Flynn. “An attack. A blightborn, they claimed. One of our own was slain- brutally. And no sign of the culprit’s whereabouts.” His eyes narrowed slightly, a contemplative gleam in their depths. “We tracked them. Or so we thought, deep into the woods.”

Flynn raised a brow, curious, while Orion shifted slightly. 

“It led us to a body—crushed beneath a boulder. The remains…” He exhaled slowly, though not in hesitation, but as if releasing the vestiges of a bitter taste. “Defiled. Flesh torn, gnawed upon as if by an animal.” His voice did not waver, yet something in the stillness of his expression hinted at his displeasure. “We thought we were closing in. But the trail ended there. No further scent and no tracks beyond that point.”

Flynn’s expression contorted in disgust and concern, visibly unsettled by what Orion recalled. He had not yet heard a report on this gruesome discovery. Shifting in his seat, his mind raced. This meant that two were dead, that they knew of—one of the guards who had been at Amaya’s side, and this mystery person. His stomach twisted at the thought. 

Orion’s fingers curled behind his back, nails pressing into the meat of his palm as he spoke his next words. “We had been chasing nothing. They played us, Flynn. Drew us away from Dawnhaven, knowing we’d follow.”

He let that sit between them, a heavy truth neither of them could deny. Then, softer, he added, “I made the call to return. But I didn’t know if we were already too late.”

His gaze locked onto Flynn’s. “Tell me what else I missed, assuming there’s more. How is the princess?”

Flynn leaned heavily on the desk, rubbing a hand down his face as he processed what Orion had just shared. “She…” His mind briefly drifted to Amaya, but then he paused, his brow furrowing as his mind worked in overdrive. 

“Wait,” he said, lifting a hand as though to pause the conversation entirely, unable to move past the discovery. “Amaya mentioned the blight-born had eaten the face of the other guard who died too. It must have fed again.” he said, meeting Orion’s gaze with sharp intensity. “Why so soon? For sport?” he wondered aloud, trying to place the puzzle pieces together. “It could have taken more people by now if it wanted to.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t need to. Two bodies are enough to send a message. And I think we would be fools not to ask—what message?”

Frustrated by so many unknowns, he sighed and leaned back into his chair again. “Did you find out who the body was? Was it a civilian?” He braced himself for more bad news. A part of him feared the answer, but he needed to know. 

“The body was too mangled to identify immediately. Male. Wore civilian clothes, though they did not fit him properly—too tight, as if they belonged to someone smaller.” Orion’s brow furrowed slightly, the discrepancy lingering in his mind. “Whoever they were, their life ended violently. We won't know if they had a name until the remains are properly examined.”

Flynn gave a slow nod, though the unease settling in his chest didn’t fade. The details, or lack thereof, would likely keep him up the rest of the night.  

“I see…” His fingers drummed once against the desk before he exhaled sharply through his nose. “And what was done with the body after it was found?” he asked, his voice even though his mind was anything but.

Orion’s response was immediate. “We didn’t have time to bring it back. The priority was returning to Dawnhaven before we lost more ground. But it wasn’t left unattended. The location is marked, and I ordered a unit to stay behind and ensure it remained undisturbed. They were to wait for further instruction.”

Tension ghosted across his angular features, the subtle tightening of his jaw the only concession to his unease. “It can be retrieved when the watch changes, if it hasn’t already been compromised.”

Flynn nodded again, absorbing the information as his eyes fixated on a nearby candle. He’d need to address that sooner rather than later. Hopefully by then the guards would have found whoever was behind these acts of violence. 

 “Thank you for the update, Orion.” he said, feeling the weight of dread press down on his tired shoulders. He let the silence stretch for a moment, pensively watching the candlelight dance as he gathered his thoughts.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, tinged with concern. "Amaya is… she’s traumatized. Rightfully so," he said, his gaze turning back to meet Orion's. "But she's... as okay as she can be for now. The Sage and a Priestess came to heal her from what that blight-born did." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "It was a blight-born Priestess that came to her aid. Apparently, the High Priestess was nowhere to be found when she was called for..." He frowned, his words hanging in the air, clearly unsettled by this. After the morning he had had with Tia—after what he had learned—Flynn was finding it more difficult to trust her by the minute.  

“The timing is convenient,” Orion remarked, his voice contemplative. He did not need to elaborate. A priestess of the Blight had come in her stead. That alone demanded scrutiny.

But there was more. There was always more.

Orion straightened, subtly shifting his weight as he prepared to articulate his thoughts again. “You should know that your actions today have not gone unnoticed, Flynn.” His tone remained inscrutable—neither chastising nor accusatory. “Lord Coswain was quite... vocal in his assessment.”

Flynn’s eyes narrowed at Orion, irritation flickering across his features as he fought the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of Coswain. He kept silent, though, listening—his annoyance tempered by the respect he still held for Orion, even when he didn’t like what he was hearing.

He let the words settle before continuing. “You departed without a word, I assume because of the Princess’s condition. But you broke formation in doing so and cast yourself into peril without counsel or cover.” There was no embellishment, only fact laid bare. “Many wonder if it was recklessness or desperation.” The dichotomy between the two was a treacherous one—one excused, the other condemned.

“You are well aware that I shall not speak ill of you, yet you must grasp the gravity of perception. A leader cannot afford to act without certainty, for even when your intentions are noble, even the surest of steps can be mistaken for missteps by those who are watching.” Which they most definitely were. 

Orion’s words were not meant to wound, but neither would he blunt them to spare discomfort. Flynn was his friend, but he was also a prince, and the crown was a burden that did not suffer hesitation. The throne did not forgive lapses in judgment either. 

“That said, I do not believe you forsook the quest without just cause. Our history together has taught me better than that.” A flicker of understanding crossed his features, perhaps as a shared recognition of the burdens they bore. “However, you must reckon with your choices sooner rather than later. For while I may place my trust in you, not all will extend the same courtesy.”

Flynn exhaled sharply through his nose, forcing his voice to remain steady, though there was no mistaking the edge beneath it. “I left the first crime scene with Ayel and an illusionist named Valthyr to find Amaya and Elara. The illusionist could turn into a wolf and I thought it the best option to track them…” he said, matter-of-fact.“We came across Kira and Coswain talking amongst themselves. There was no ‘formation’ to be broken or held.” His words carried a subtle bite to them, irritation bleeding through.

He folded his arms, jaw tight. “Kira spoke to me—telepathically first, then privately. She told me she’d found Amaya and that Elara had specifically told her to give the message to me and no one else.” He held Orion’s gaze, unwavering. “I do not trust Coswain or Valthyr. Both are complete strangers to me. I know nothing of Valthyr beyond that he’s some kind of enchanter who uses shape-shifting magic. As for Coswain?” He let out a sharp breath. “Sent unannounced by the King of Lunaris.” Flynn’s expression darkened slightly. “Knowing even a sliver of how Amaya was treated by that man, why should I assume Coswain has her best interests in mind?” He shook his head, watching Orion’s gaze for understanding. “So yes, when I heard that Amaya was located by a blood trail, possibly on the verge of death, I left. At once.”

He let the words settle before conceding, albeit begrudgingly, “I won’t deny that I put myself in peril by going alone. Maybe I should have found Aurelian guards to escort me. But I was afraid for Amaya’s life…. And maybe I should have said something to Coswain, but—” His voice edged sharper. “Why should I? What has he done to earn that trust? He presumes far too much.”

“You do not owe Coswain trust,” Orion said plainly. “Nor do you owe it to Valthyr. But trust and command are not the same.”

A frustrated sigh left Flynn, his mind instinctively reaching for what his father might have done in his place. But the Queen would never have been put in the position Amaya was. His father would never have had to make the choices that his son did. 

Flynn’s fingers tapped against his arm before he finally said, “Fine,” he said, irritation still woven through his tone, though he was trying to find his diplomatic footing. “What do you suggest I do to ‘reckon’ with these choices I’ve made?”

“You ask what you should do? It is simple.” Orion’s voice remained calm, devoid of judgment. “You must seize agency over your choice, lest another defines its significance on your behalf.” His advice was delivered with the detached confidence of one accustomed to counsel borne from harsh experience. Orion understood intimately that surrendering control meant allowing others to craft one's narrative—a peril he nor Flynn could ill afford. 

“There will invariably be those who scrutinize your decisions in the future,” Orion continued, observing Flynn intently. “Your response should not aim at pacification nor justification, but rather assert unequivocally your conviction.”

Flynn held Orion’s gaze, jaw tight. He hated this part—the politics of it, the way perception could twist a choice into something it wasn’t. But he wasn’t naive. He knew Orion was right. He’d always understood the importance of optics, that others could shape the narrative for him, but that never made it any less frustrating.  

Orion exhaled slowly. “When morning comes—” He caught himself, instinct betraying him. No morning. Not here. Not anymore. His lips pressed together briefly before he adjusted, his voice unfaltering as he continued, “When the next shift changes, you should address them. Not to apologize. Not to defend. But to make it known that you stand by your choice.”

Orion studied Flynn for a moment longer before adding, “And if Coswain presumes too much, let him presume less.” His expression remained neutral, but there was a glint of something—perhaps amusement, perhaps approval—in his eyes. “Command, Flynn. Even those you do not trust.”

Flynn’s gaze flickered to the candle on his desk as he considered Orion’s words. His annoyance with Coswain lingered, but he forced himself to set it aside. This was bigger than one insufferable envoy.

“I stand by my choice,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’d make it again.” There was no doubt in that. He would never have risked leaving Amaya to fate simply to satisfy the expectations of men he didn’t trust. And he suspected they’d make the same choice if their wives' lives were at stake. 

He met Orion’s gaze then, the glint in his advisor’s eyes not lost on him. Command, even those you do not trust. It was easier said than done. But Flynn had learned to survive on harder lessons.  

“I’ll handle it.” Flynn gave a curt, assured nod before shifting forward, unfolding his arms as he pulled open a desk drawer and retrieved a few blank sheets of parchment.

“I came down here to arrange a meeting with each of the two commanders tomorrow. What are your thoughts on that?” He cast a brief glance at Orion before reaching for his ink pen. “From what I’ve seen, the guards aren’t working well together. If at all. The commanders need to present a unified front. What they showed today—” he shook his head, his grip on the pen tightening slightly. “... We are all lucky there haven’t been more deaths, is all I’ll say.”

“It is a necessary step,” Orion said, his tone thoughtful. “Only one more thing concerns me. Do these commanders see themselves as fighting for the same thing? Because, if not, no decree will change that.” Orion’s gaze sharpened, assessing the prince. “You do not need them to like each other. But you do need them to obey when it matters. If they do not believe they are part of the same force, you must give them no choice but to act as one. You must walk the line between command and necessity. Make them work together toward a goal they cannot ignore.”

Orion exhaled. “Even if you force unity, some will resist in their own way. Which brings me to Coswain… He is not here out of devotion to you. You know that. So, ensure that whatever command you give him, in particular, is one he cannot twist to suit his own aims.” There was no malice in his tone but a deep pragmatism. He had known men like Coswain before. Some followed orders because they believed in them. Others followed because it was convenient—until it wasn’t.

“They will nod, they will agree—because they must. But their words will not tell you if they stand with you, Flynn. It is their next action.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching Flynn closely. “And when the meeting is over, you will have to decide what comes next if they resist or if one of them acts on their own accord. A command given is only as strong as its enforcement.”

"You're right. We'll keep a close watch on them," Flynn agreed, Orion’s words striking deep, echoing the concerns that had already gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. "I’ll make them understand what’s at stake—what they stand to lose if they don’t act as one." His voice was low but firm. The difficult choices would have to start now.  

He set ink to parchment, beginning to draft the orders that would soon be delivered to the commanders. As he wrote, a small, wry smile flickered across his lips. He glanced up at Orion. "And if I misstep, I expect you’ll tell me soon enough."

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