The Muse

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder

Zeph sat alone at his usual table in the tavern, scowling at his meager breakfast. Leftovers from the feast—but no pastries. He took a swig of coffee to make up for it, the bitter warmth doing little to improve his disappointment.

Around him, the tavern bustled with early “morning” activity—guards and townsfolk coming and going, the clatter of plates and mugs, the occasional bark of laughter. But he stayed quiet, nursing his drink, letting the dull hum of conversation blur into the background.

His gaze flicked across the room and landed on Nesna, not far from where he sat, sticking out from the crowd like a sore thumb. She was talking to two of the royal guards—and someone else. A slim, dark-haired man, dressed like a scholar. A sage or some type of wealthy merchant, he’d guess. Zeph studied him for a moment, sizing him up, then dismissed the thought. Nesna seemed to be settling in well with the townspeople, despite her rough start. That was good, he supposed.

His attention shifted back to the royal guards—particularly Lord Coswain. Zeph had known he was in town. The barracks had been buzzing about it ever since he and Zeph’s old unit arrived. Still, seeing him in the flesh stirred something bitter in his chest. The grizzled old man had aged since Zeph last saw him, lines etched deeper into his face. It had been some time since they'd last seen each other—a little over a year. He had no intention of speaking to Coswain, but even so, Zeph was relieved to see him alive. Though, he wondered why Coswain was here.

Strange, how despite Zeph being cast out from the unit, they’d both ended up in the same place anyway.

Just as he considered getting up, a familiar blond Lunarian guard—Voss—slid into the seat across from him, coffee in hand. "Where's Hawthorne?" the man asked casually.

Zeph raised a brow, meeting Voss’s dark brown eyes. "...Who?"

The fellow guard looked at him like he was slow. "The Aurelian recruit? Heard old Volkov stuck you with a trainee."

Zeph leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. "News to me."

Voss chuckled, shaking his head. "Figures."

Of course, Volkov would saddle him with an Aurelian. Clearly, he wasn’t letting Zeph off easy. He wondered if Aliseth had gotten a similar punishment, or something worse. Had he seen a Psychic magic user to pry his mind apart yet?

Zeph sighed, taking another slow sip of his coffee. "An Aurelian?" He already didn’t like where this was going.

"Yep."

Zeph swirled the liquid in his mug, considering that for a moment. "You know where he’d be?"

Voss snorted. "She. And no.”

Zeph went still, his cup hovering near his lips before he set it down. He grimaced internally. An Aurelian woman. Because historically, they had been so receptive to direction and constructive criticism. He could already feel the headache forming.

"I’ll find her," he muttered, though it was supposed to be his day off.

Voss leaned back in his chair. "Where were you last night, anyway? You missed cards. Tav took all my coin this time."

Zeph just smiled, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. "Busy."

A blond brow lifted. "Oh? Found yourself a new friend?" Voss smirked, clearly assuming Zeph had spent the night entangled with someone. Zeph let him think so, staying silent and letting the insinuation linger.

His mind, however, trailed back to Ivor and the Priestess, to the night before—the cavern, the blood, the cold.

As if conjured by thought, the tavern door opened again, and in strode Ivor, accompanied by the serpentine innkeeper, Sya. As always, Ivor’s presence was impossible to miss. The giant man greeted the room with a booming voice and a grin. Zeph raised his mug in return, along with a few other patrons.

Tracking the giant’s movements, Zeph watched as he made a beeline for—

Zeph’s heart skipped.

Red hair. Glowing eyes. Flickering candlelight casting shifting shadows over fox-like features.

As if he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things correctly, his gaze narrowed, trying to make out the rest of her face from across the tavern. And then, as if sensing his stare, those fiery orange eyes locked onto his.

He didn’t look away. Neither did she.

They held each other’s gaze for a few long heartbeats. Then, a slow, knowing smile curled at her lips—just enough to reveal the razor edge of a canine. Her tongue flicked over it, deliberate. And then, as if dismissing him, she turned away, her expression smoothing as she looked up at Ivor. Her smile softened, her manner relaxed, as if she hadn’t just bared her teeth at Zeph.

What the fuck is she doing here?

Zeph exhaled slowly through his nose, expression unreadable.

"Hale?"

Zeph blinked, realizing he’d completely tuned out whatever Voss had just said. He tore his gaze from the woman in the corner and looked back at the guard.

"You know that one?" He didn’t bother being subtle about it, gesturing toward the redhead.

Voss followed his line of sight, brow furrowing. "Not really. Seen her around. Think she runs an herb shop or somethin’."

Zeph scoffed, smirking. "An herb shop?"

His gaze flicked back to her. She was still speaking with Ivor, composed and unbothered, as if Zeph’s presence meant nothing at all.

He downed the rest of his coffee and stood. "I’ll have to stop by sometime," he mused.

Voss chuckled. "Sure you will.”

"But first," Zeph sighed dramatically, "Seems I’ve got to go find this Hawthorne person." He made it sound like the most exhausting task in the world.

With a lazy wave to Voss, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped back out into the cold.

Honestly, he had no interest in asking around for the Aurelian recruit. He barely spoke to the Aurelian guards, and the thought of mingling with them sounded miserable. Volkov had known exactly what he was doing with this. The prick.

So instead of heading for the barracks, he decided to check on Tia.

An Aurelian he could tolerate.

She had burned through a lot of energy saving his life last night. It was only right to make sure she was alright. Plus, maybe she, or her Keeper—the ever-charming Champion—would know who this Hawthorne person was.

And if the Champion didn’t let him speak to the Priestess?

Well. He’d find a way. He always did.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Alchemy Chambers

Eris blinked, a bit taken aback by the guards sudden shift from drowsy warmth to rigid formality. She hadn’t meant to startle her—or to send her into a flurry. Pulling her blanket tighter, Eris watched as Charlotte scrambled to the hearth.

“Oh, you d—” The words died in her throat as she thought better of it. Charlotte was nervous. Eris could have lit the fire with magic in an instant. She had been doing so the entire time she’d lived here—the logs beside the hearth more for decoration than anything. But in her current state, drained from the night before, the help was welcome. And Charlotte, it seemed, needed something to focus on.

Eris could empathize with that.

As Charlotte stood before her, their eyes met, and for a moment, Eris felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire. A rush of something she couldn't quite name had been ignited as she stood in the taller woman's shadow, struck by the sharp contrast of Charlotte’s steel-blue eyes against her raven hair.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Miss Hawthorne,” she said hastily, needing a distraction herself now. She shuffled around Charlotte in her cocoon of a blanket, waddling closer to the fire. “You did nothing wrong. We all need sleep, don’t we?”

She cast a glance over her shoulder, her gaze trailing over the armor Charlotte still wore, likely having slept in it.

“We’re safe here, in the tower,” she added, glancing toward one of the darkened windows. Her quarters sat high in the spire of the Alchemy Chambers, above the rest of Dawnhaven. Despite everything, she did always feel more secure here than she would have at ground level.

A flicker of memory surfaced—Charlotte’s steadying hands, the way she had practically carried her up all the winding steps the night before. Eris’ cheeks warmed further, and she quickly turned back toward the fire, hoping the flames would disguise the flush creeping up her neck.

“Besides,” she added, voice softer now, “I would have been worried if you’d gone back out into that storm.” A pause. The fire crackled, filling the space between them.

Quick flashes of memories replayed in her mind.

Aliseth, his tight grip on her hand. Charlotte, putting herself between Eris and him. The stonemason, simmering under barely controlled anger. The blight-born Priestess, crying. The Princess, cold and silent. Charlotte, waiting for her.

“Thank you for helping me last night, Miss Hawthorne. How can I ever repay you?”

Her gaze drifted across the hall to the small kitchen. She pulled the blanket down from her head as the fire’s heat seeped in, letting her mess of brunette curls tumble free.

“To start, do you like tea? Or coffee?”

---

_{Interactions: Charlotte @SpicyMeatball}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Royal Residence

Flynn’s eyes lit up the moment the word “all” left her lips. A rush of selfish excitement washed over him at the thought of having her by his side all day. It wasn’t just that he could use the help—though he certainly could—it was that he wanted her there. He wanted to know she was safe beside him. He wanted to enjoy her company. To have someone with him who wasn’t just serious, no-nonsense Orion—who, frankly, wasn’t nearly as easy on the eyes.

But beyond his own desires, pride settled deep within him at her answer. Despite everything, she chose to step forward rather than retreat, to take on more responsibility instead of shrink from it. She was resilient—just as he’d known she was.

However, his smile faded when she mentioned the prisoner. His brows furrowed, a slight frown tugging at his lips as contradictions caught in his mind. The stranger had helped Amaya—yet he’d found himself in a cell for treason.

Confusion flickered across Flynn’s face as yesterday’s events replayed in his mind. Halcyon. That was the name he’d given at the tavern. He’d made insinuations about Flynn’s family, even told Flynn to call him brother. He nearly shuddered at the memory of those ghostly eyes looking back at him.

The treason wasn’t surprising, but helping Amaya? Perhaps whatever game he was playing only involved being a thorn in the side of Aurelians. Flynn supposed, for the moment, it was a relief that Halcyon would only target him if given the chance.

Then Amaya’s voice softened, and his focus snapped back to her—spiraling thoughts frozen mid sentence as she lowered her gaze away from his.

For a heartbeat, he just looked at her. He wanted to say something that would lift the weight from her expression—to remind her that she didn’t have to carry so much guilt. That the knight had fulfilled his oath and bought her and Elara precious moments to escape.

But a knight had given his life for her. A person. Not a mere obligation to be dismissed—sworn by oath or not. No words seemed sufficient to honor that sacrifice.

“We’ll make time,” he promised, certain of it. “He’ll receive the honor he deserves.”

He longed to pull her closer, to make her forget all her worries. He longed for her to help him forget his.

But instead, he swallowed the impulse, letting out a quiet breath as he stood. Turning to face her, he extended his hand, palm up—another invitation. His lips tilted into a soft smile.

“Come on, beautiful,” he said, his tone warm. “Let’s get dressed. Then we’ll head out.”

---

_{Interactions: Amaya @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Aelios Temple > Hotsprings

“The sun warms all,”

Noticeably, the words came strained from the Priestess, each syllable carrying the weight of effort, but Nyla couldn’t help but smile. There was something undeniably endearing about the way the woman’s eyes widened, her cheeks coloring. Nyla’s gaze followed hers to the window, where only the deep, frozen darkness of night stared back at them.

She never could get used to it, either.

“Mm…” she hummed, arching a brow as she returned her gaze to the woman. Her lips curled into a knowing smile that was neither mockery nor pity, just quiet amusement. “So it seems.” Her voice carried an easy, lilting sarcasm, as a soft laugh slipped past her lips.

Nyla’s gaze flicked down as the Priestess lifted a small basket of cookies in offering. She blinked, her brows lifting slightly in surprise. She had been given many things in temples—blessings, prayers, judgments—but never a cookie.

And who was she to refuse such kindness? Refusing gifts could be seen as rude.

With a graceful motion, she plucked a cookie from the basket, holding it between her fingers as though it were something finer than a simple baked good. “A gift from the temple?” she mused, peering at her with curiosity. “Or from you?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before taking a delicate bite, letting the taste settle on her tongue. Sweet. But simple. Humble.

It would undoubtedly leave her stomach in knots later, but Nyla had long since learned to ignore such things. If she wanted to pass as human, she had to commit to the performance.

The Priestess, meanwhile, had gestured toward the hallway leading to the springs, and Nyla followed without hesitation. As she walked, she took her time, letting her gaze drift over the temple’s ornate walls and vaulted ceiling, allowing herself to absorb the warmth of the space. It reminded her, in some ways, of home.

When her gaze flicked back to the Priestess, Nyla watched her move, noting the careful way she held herself. Controlled, deliberate, but she was stiff—straining. Nyla had seen it before, in dancers who had pushed themselves past their limits—in herself. Though the Priestess seemed to be doing her best to mask it.

Interesting.

When they reached the doorway, a gust of cold rushed to greet them, though Nyla barely reacted. Since her transformation, the cold had become more tolerable—though she still didn’t like it. Gathering her long, dark hair to one side to shield it from the wind, she followed the Priestess outside, smiling at the familiar feeling of heat and steam enveloping her.

Then, the Priestess stopped short.

Nyla followed her gaze, landing on the lone figure hunched at the water’s edge. The red staining the ground, swirling in the sacred waters. Her eyes shot back to the Priestess, just in time to catch the basket and towel thrust into her hands. Nyla took them without protest, though her brows drew together slightly. She watched as the priestess hurried down the steps, concern evident.

Nyla, however, lingered.

Her playful demeanor didn’t vanish entirely, but it did sharpen, her head tilting as her eyes studied the scene at the bottom of the steps. She had no particular interest in rushing in to play the part of a worried onlooker.

Instead, Nyla inhaled—and immediately regretted it.

Beneath the thick, humid, mineral-rich air, something else lurked.

Rot.

Decay.

Her grip tightened around the towel and basket as her expression shifted, her amusement slipping into nausea. She darted a glance around, trying to pinpoint the source through the rising steam. An animal carcass left in the snow? A dead body?

She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose. The scent was faint, even to her—so subtle that a human likely wouldn’t notice it at all, she guessed. But to her heightened blight-born smell, it was enough to make her stomach turn.

Slowly, with growing concern, she stepped forward, though the Priestess’s urgency wasn’t quite mirrored in her own steps.

As she reached the bottom of the steps, her attention slid to a sword leaning against one of the rocky outcrops—dark steel, unmistakably Lunarian. Her gaze flicked back to the man as the priestess approached him.

A soldier?

Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, his posture spoke of pain or exhaustion—perhaps both. Maybe the scent of decay clung to his weapon, and that was why he had come here. It would be typical for a Lunarian to desecrate the sacred waters of Aelios.

Yet something inside her stirred, a quiet warning that set her instincts on edge.

Wariness flickered in her gaze as she glanced at the priestess, then back to the man, choosing to linger a few steps behind them. Silent, she continued scanning the area, searching through mist and shadows for whatever had begun to rot in the cold.

Because whatever it was…

It was close.

---

_{Interactions: Tia @c3p-0h, Vellion @Dark Light}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Town Square > Aelios Temple

Quietly, Nyla wandered through Dawnhaven’s winding streets, her eyes tracing the variety of shops clustered around the town center. For a brief moment, she wondered what it was that the shop owners sought to do here. Did they truly believe they’d find a new start instead of meeting their end? Nyla had come out of desperation, but the humans who arrived willingly seemed to cling onto hope still. It was admirable, if naive.

With each passerby, she noted their faces, offering a small smile if their eyes met hers. The townspeople seemed tense, and the guards watched her even more closely than they had when she first arrived at the gates yesterday. It set her slightly on edge, but she continued on, following wooden signs that pointed out important locations—armory, tavern, market, barracks, neighborhoods, and temples.

The town was organized enough, she supposed, but sprawling in a way that made her wonder how much of it had been planned and how much had simply been built wherever it could go up the fastest. She couldn’t help but smirk at that. It suited Flynn, really. For all his plans and thoughts, he was still Flynn—Impulsive, willful, and always well-intentioned.

Eventually, she found herself in the northeast neighborhood, where the homes were neatly aligned, well-kept and clearly occupied. She paused, considering a new direction to wander, when an Aurelian guard passed by, offering a polite nod.

“Excuse me, love,” she called out, her southeastern Aurelian accent lacing her words with a subtle, honeyed warmth. “This area—most of the homes are taken, yes?”

The guard gave a small chuckle, adjusting his grip on his spear. “Aye, miss. Mostly assigned to guards and the like. You lookin’ to move in? You’d have better luck toward the west end, I reckon.”

“I see. Thank you.” She began to turn away when the guard cleared his throat.

“Miss,” he called after her, prompting Nyla to half-turn and meet his gaze. “You should talk to the stonemason and his crew. Or the Prince, if he’ll deign to meet with you. They’ll know which homes are ready.”

Nyla flashed him a warm, easy smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She gave him a gracious inclination of her head, and he returned the gesture, before she continued on her way.

She had no interest in tracking down Flynn or whoever the stonemason was. Flynn had already said she could have any home she wanted—so she’d take it.

As she made her way back down the snow-laden streets, a wisp of steam caught her attention, curling into the crisp air from somewhere to the east. Intrigued, she followed it, cutting through narrow streets until she found herself at the base of a temple—perched atop a hill, framed by the forest, and radiating warmth that seemed to seep through the very walls. It wasn’t anything like the grand, glittering temples of Aurelia, but it held its own quiet dignity.

She stopped at the foot of the steps, narrowing her eyes as she took it all in—the Temple of Aelios. The goddess whose followers had changed the course of Flynn’s entire life… and hers.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked up at the spires reaching up into the clouded night sky. She had never belonged to Aelios’ faithful, despite growing up in the eastern sands where worship was as common as breathing. There, faith bled into everything—prayers before meals, blessings for water, rituals for the rising sun, mediation under the blazing summer heat or in the warmth of a cleansing hot spring.

She did not deny Aelios’ power, but the nomads lived by their own rhythm, guided by the wind. And Nyla had never cared for how religion tried to box people in.

Still, the temple’s heat called to her all the same, tempting her with promises of comfort like a familiar lover. Might as well, she thought, if only to see everything Dawnhaven had to offer.

Letting herself be drawn closer, she scaled the steps until she reached the doors and gave them a gentle push. The warmth spilled out, washing over her, and Nyla stepped inside. The vast, open center of the temple welcomed her with flickering firelight. At the heart of it all, the eternal flame burned—a beacon that made the air seem to hum with power. A familiar sight, and yet, so foreign at the same time.

Near the flame stood a woman—blonde, petite, and strikingly beautiful. A Priestess, no doubt. But more curiously, she bore the unmistakable features of someone from the Ember Isles—despite the rarity of her sunlit hair. Nyla took a moment to drink her in before stepping forward, a soft smile gracing her lips as she moved with the unhurried, fluid grace honed on countless stages.

“Warm greetings, Priestess,” she said, dipping her head in a respectful bow, keeping her gaze averted for a few breaths. If her life had taught her anything, it was to tread carefully around members of the church. With all their entitled pride, they weren’t often forgiving of perceived disrespect.

When she straightened, her blue eyes briefly flicked to the Priestess's scarf before meeting her gaze.

“I couldn’t help but notice—is that a hot spring beyond the temple?” she asked, nodding toward the door at the back. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had the pleasure of one.” She paused, her soft smile shifting, turning teasing.

Because despite her inclination to respect the clergy, she was still Nyla—impulsive and willful.

“Is the hotspring reserved only for the devout, or might any heathen enjoy it?”

---

_{Interactions: Tia @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Royal Residence

Flynn watched Amaya carefully, analyzing every subtle shift in her expression and every small motion in her body language. He couldn’t help but notice the way her hair fell unruly around her face, how the nightgown clung to her body as she kept a calculated distance between them, how her eyes shifted away from his, how her—

His thoughts stumbled to a halt.

It was almost imperceivable against her darker skin, but unmistakable to him. He’d gazed at her so often, traced the lines of her face so many times, that the slightest change was noticeable. She was… blushing.

The rigid formality she always wore like armor still wasn’t in place, leaving her unguarded and… nervous? The realization was surprising enough that it almost made him forget to breathe.

A slow, almost lazy thrill unfurled in his chest. Something warm, bold and just a little bit smug.

He knew this look, this energy. He’d seen it on plenty of faces before—flustered, uncertain, caught off guard in his presence. But to see it on her? That was new.

He wasn’t used to being the one to leave her so visibly unsteady, and it gave him a rare, almost dangerous sense of confidence. Something told him that if he reached for her now, she might not immediately pull away. Maybe she’d even lean into it. The thought was oddly reassuring and calming. Maybe she had enjoyed his company after all—begrudgingly or not.

As she sat up, he silently cursed himself for having pulled away, for letting the weight of his own thoughts drag him out from under her. He should have stayed. Should have kept her tucked against his chest and kissed her awake instead. He wanted to reach for her, pull her back down onto the couch with him and coax her into staying just a little longer.

But before he could convince himself to try it, she spoke—quick and practical, trying to cut through her own nerves with practicality.

Flynn just nodded, his lips curving into a soft, almost teasing smile. “Right. I should dress too,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “Sorry, I... didn’t mean to wake you.”

His thoughts snagged on the notion, unsure of what he would’ve done if she hadn’t woken up. Left her there to wake up alone? No—that didn’t sit right with him. He would’ve stayed. He’d just… needed a moment to breathe.

His gaze caught on her hands as she started to rise, and an urge to stop her tightened in his chest. Before he could overthink it, the words quickly tumbled out.

“I meant what I said—yesterday.” He paused, waiting for her to meet his gaze. “About… being my partner,” he clarified when she did, holding the soft smile on his lips.

He hesitated for a beat before leaning in, nudging her shoulder with his in a gentle, playful gesture.

“Come with me today,” he said, lingering close, his gaze dipping briefly to her nightgown before finding her face again. There was a spark of mischief in his eyes, but it was softened by a touch of tenderness that lingered just beneath the surface.

“I’ve got to check in with the commanders first,” he continued, eyes briefly flicking to her lips. “Then, apparently they’ve put someone in the cells—that odd man we ran into on the road before… Speaking of treason, I heard.” He sighed, slowly finding her eyes again. “After that… more blight-born interviews.”

The list felt heavy on his shoulders as he named his tasks aloud. He just wanted to stay here, with her.

“You’re welcome to join me for any of it,” he said, softer now. “All, or just some…” he paused, knowing that everything might be too much after what she’d just been through.
“Or none of it at all,” he added, his eyes searching hers.

“Whatever you desire.”

---

_{Interactions: Amaya @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder > Town Square

Nyla’s hips swayed, her movements fluid and precise, each twist, arch and hand placement a carefully crafted spell to captivate every eye in the room. Wrapped in colorful silks, they fluttered around her like flames. Music thrummed in her ears—a lute, tambourine and drums paving the rhythm that shaped and guided her every motion. Gold, silver, and bronze coins were tossed at her feet, clattering across the wooden stage of a smoky tavern. Men and women alike leaned forward, greedy eyes trailing her body.

Effortlessly, she pirouetted, her world blurring from one to the next.

A grand hall unfolded around her, polished marble floors reflecting candlelight as highborn nobles sat rapt with attention. From across the room, the Queen’s green eyes fixated on her—unwavering, familiar, and stripped of their light.

She spun.

A dim brothel—whispers crawling through the dark, slithering between raised glasses and crooked smiles. Some faces alight with wonder, others glinting with cruel intent.

She spun faster.

Dancing on the sunlit streets of Aurelian markets, where the crowd chanted and clapped along to the music, their cheers crashing around her like waves of pure adrenaline.

She spun in a darkened room, for one man.

His hands reached for her, catching her mid-turn. He whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. Promises, sweet and poisonous, spilled from his lips. She closed her eyes, leaning into the sound, completely breathless. Motionless.

The silks tightened around her torso—slowly at first, then viciously. Her breath hitched as they constricted, burning hot, searing into her flesh. A coppery taste materialized in her mouth, rushing into her lungs as blood filled the space where air should have been. She choked, fighting to breathe, but the silk pressed over her lips and sealed over her eyes. Darkness folded in on her, suffocating, crushing. She was drowning, trapped, and powerless against it.

She tried to scream—

Nyla gasped awake, her body rigid, heart pounding against her ribs. Darkness pressed in heavily across her body, asphyxiating her. She flailed, desperate to throw off the weight of it. Panic clawed at her chest until a sliver of light broke through, distant and faint. She reached for it, pushing against the weight of shadows until she broke free.

Under dim torchlight coming through her window, she stared down at herself and stilled. Small hands, slender and fragile, trembled against an entire ocean of blankets. She was tiny—small enough to fit into the palm of a hand. Fae.

Somewhere in sleep, she must have shrunk into this shape.

Her wings twitched in annoyance at her back as disgust pulled her lips into a sneer. The room loomed around her, monstrously oversized.

With a frustrated huff, she sat down, her weight hardly making a dent in the fabric. Fighting against the tide of magic that kept her small, she closed her eyes, and forced her mind to conjure the shape she preferred—taller, stronger, more human sized. It took several attempts, each one feeling like an uphill battle, but at last, heat crawled through her bones, stretching and reshaping her muscles. When she opened her eyes again, she stood tall, back to her usual height.

She paused for a moment, stretching her limbs, adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of her newly restored form. She wasn’t sure she would ever fully acclimate to the strange, shifting sensations of her transitions.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where snowflakes gathered along the sill. Moving across the room, she leaned closer, peering outside. The world beyond seemed frozen in time, blanketed in an eerie stillness, draped in a shroud of white.

There was a time when the sight of snow had filled her with joy, but now, it only served as a bitter reminder of her own loneliness. A hollow ache spread through her chest as she mulled over her plans for the day. But why bother stepping outside? Why brave the cold and emptiness when there was nothing waiting to warm her? A grim thought struck her—she wished she had died a month ago. It would have been easier.

But her thoughts snagged on Aldrick—vibrant, reckless Aldrick. Still living, still thriving, sparking life into every room he entered. Hadn’t he always known how to survive? To keep moving even when life bled him dry? She’d been like that once—daring and bright. Maybe it wasn’t too late to reclaim the spark that Aldrick had held onto. She couldn’t stand the thought of giving in, of letting the world crush her spirit entirely. And yet…

Her mind returned to Flynn. She remembered the way he’d looked at her, those green eyes, always so caring, that now hid so much behind them. She remembered his embrace, the way it had felt less warm than it used to. And even so, she felt comfortable there. A pang through her heart made her chest feel tight.

His words tugged at her thoughts—talk of an interview. She scoffed, irritation sparking. As if she were some stranger to him. As if he didn’t already know every corner of her soul, every curve of her body. The idea of him treating her as an unknown, possible threat, scraped against her nerves.

Let him chase her down if he wanted an interview so badly.

Despite how guarded he had been, he’d still promised her a home here—a place to be safe. Well, she’d find herself a space, then. A little corner to call her own.

Throwing on her clothes and a thick coat, Nyla pulled her magic around herself like a veil, tucking away her horns and wings, presenting herself as human again.

Downstairs, she slipped through the inn, hurrying past faces without meeting anyone’s gaze. Snow crunched underfoot as she exited, making her way toward the town square.

She didn’t quite know where to begin—only that part of her ached for Flynn to come find her, as he always had.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Kira's Home > Heading into town

Kira’s eyes slowly blinked open, the dim orange glow of them cutting through the pitch black that engulfed her room. In an instant, her senses surged back to life—a flash flood of sounds and scents. Every distant breath and heartbeat resuming their steady rhythm in her ears.

She felt the disturbance before she saw it—a presence beside her, far too familiar in its intimacy and yet wholly foreign. Deep, even breathing. The scent of sweat and alcohol lingering in the air. A stranger.

Her gaze slid over to him—a man, sprawled out like he belonged in her space, black hair cut too short, a thick, untidy beard framing his face. Bare chest exposed to the cold, muscles lax and unworried. Older than her. Moderately handsome. Not that it mattered.

On a mission, it never had.

Kira’s lips curled into a grimace as she instinctively pulled her leg back from where it brushed his—an intrusion she hadn’t noticed before, and now couldn’t stand. Disgust coiled around her like a snake.

With a sharp movement, she ripped the blanket off him and swiftly bundled it around herself. He jolted awake with a startled gasp, looking around in groggy confusion, brown eyes trying to focus on her.

“Get out,” Kira growled, voice low and cold.

Recognition sparked in his eyes, and his mouth opened—likely to protest—but the fight bled out of him before he could speak. His expression went blank, and he obeyed without question. Silently, he stood and gathered his scattered clothes with a vacant, glassy stare. Kira didn’t move, disdain seeping through every part of her as she watched him.

A bruise, deep and dark, marred his neck. Right where her fangs had sunk into his jugular. Memories of last night flashed through her mind.

The way he’d stopped her from pursuing Elara with that self-important tone, telling her about alarm bells like she was some clueless little thing. She’d given him a deadly, easy smile, stepping closer, lowering her voice into a teasing purr—luring him in with honey-sweet words and false vulnerability.

She could use some strong, sturdy hands to guide her home, couldn’t she? Someone to protect her from the big, bad night.

He’d melted into the palm of her hand so easily when they’d reached her home. His hands hadn’t been so sturdy as they’d trembled around her body with excitement. She’d whispered into his ear as she backed him into a wall.

Had he ever been with a blight-born before? Did he know what it felt like to belong to one?

She’d told him. Warned him. But he didn’t seem to mind—or understand.

She hadn’t cared to explain it any further.

Her fangs had sunk into his neck, hot blood flooding her senses, seeping through her veins like molten fire. His heart had quickened and he’d groaned, but he didn’t pull away. Her venom seeped into his bloodstream, clouding his mind. He was intoxicated in an instant, made pliable and eager. Too far gone to care about the danger wrapped around him.

His hands had been on her before she was done drinking, and by the time they’d stumbled into bed, she’d been just as inebriated—drunk on the power, the warmth and the taste of life on her tongue.

She didn’t yet know if she felt guilty for it.

Now, Kira’s gaze remained cold as he finished dressing, never meeting her eyes as he slipped out the door without a word, still under her influence. Once the room was empty, she tossed the blanket aside and began to dress herself. She felt sharper—more herself than she had in days. Her energy refueled. Whatever chaos had threatened to overtake her yesterday had settled, leaving her feeling strangely stable.

Before heading out the door, she pulled on her coat and tucked a hidden dagger into her waistband. With a final glance around, she stepped outside, the cold biting at her face. She made her way to the tavern, craving something warm. She could no longer stomach food, but coffee would do.

With any luck, the tavern would be quieter than yesterday. If not, she'd find a dark corner to blend into, giving her space to drink in peace before she allowed the Sages to start another round of their infernal poking and prodding.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Zeph's Home > Heading into town

Zeph leaned against the counter, a mug warming his hands as he watched thick snowflakes drift lazily down, layering the already heavy pine branches outside his kitchen window. The morning—or what passed for morning now that the sun never rose—was quiet, the only sound a soft whisper of wind through the trees. His hazel eyes were unfocused, thoughts tangled up as memories from the previous night played back in his mind.

The cavern, unassuming from the outside, but glittering with odd crystals hidden deep within. The bladed teeth of those fish that still sent phantom pain through his arm when he thought about it. The gemstone—whatever it was—which had caused pure panic to flash through the little firefly. And yet, tiny as she was, he couldn’t forget the power in which she wielded. A bright, warm light cutting through the darkness that had closed in around his vision.

But he had always been lucky, Seluna saw fit to let him see another day, and they’d made it back to Dawnhaven in one piece—just barely. That much was a miracle in itself. One owed mostly to Tia for saving their lives. He didn’t like relying on someone else to bail him out, especially not a Priestess, but he knew without a doubt she’d saved his life. And now, he owed a debt. One he’d have to figure out how to repay.

She hadn’t saved them without a cost, either. After her legs gave out, Ivor had ended up carrying her the rest of the way into town. Zeph’s jaw tensed as he recalled the way she’d swayed on her feet, pale and shaky, and how his hands had shot out just in time to catch her before she fully collapsed into mud and ice. She looked a mess—blood and dirt streaked across her clothes and tangled in her hair, all the color drained from her face as she shivered against the incoming storm. Not exactly what he pictured when he thought of a pristine Aurelian Priestess—with all their decorum and elegant grace. But even then, she’d tried to wave them off, stubborn to a fault. Against Ivor, though, she hadn’t stood a chance. He scooped her up and carried on.

By the time they reached Dawnhaven, the town was mostly asleep, the streets dotted with only the occasional patrol making their rounds through the snow. Zeph hadn’t been surprised to see the Champion emerge from the temple doors, stern-faced and all business—just like when she’d passed prisoner duty off to him. He almost laughed at how rigid she looked, but thought better of it when he saw the way she scowled at Tia—and then turned her daggered gaze on him and Ivor. Anger, like a smoldering ember, daring them to add fuel.

Something about the way she stared down Tia didn’t sit right with him, but he wasn’t dumb enough to pick a fight with a Champion. He knew it wasn’t his place to get involved. Champions had their duties. Protecting the Priestess was one of them, and whatever tension was between the two of them wasn’t his problem. So he didn’t let it bother him. Not much, anyway.

Once they handed Tia off, the Champion snatched the spear out of his hand without so much as a word and ushered Tia inside, swiftly slamming the doors in their faces. Bewildered, the two men parted ways shortly after and Zeph didn’t waste much time getting home. He’d barely managed to kick his boots off before collapsing into bed. The exhaustion hit him hard—muscles aching, head pounding—but at least sleep came easy.

Now, in the stillness of his kitchen, a faint smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. The short-lived adventure had been exhilarating—far more than anything he’d experienced while serving in lowly guard ranks. A fleeting thought crossed his mind and he wondered what it might take to become a Champion of Aelios. Did the Sun Goddess take in detractors from another nation if they bent the knee to her? Aurelian Priestesses seemed a lot more entertaining than Seluna’s solemn lot.

Tossing back the rest of his coffee, his stomach grumbled, reminding him that the few bites of rainbow fish hadn’t done much more than keep him on his feet. With a sigh, Zeph set his empty mug in the sink and grabbed his heavy coat from the peg by the door, shrugging it on and bracing himself for the cold.

Stepping outside, the frigid air bit at this face, but he barely registered it. This was something he had long been used to. If he hadn’t known better, it could have been just another dark winter, like countless others Lunarians had endured before it.

With his hands stuffed into his pockets and snow settling atop his black hair, he made his way down the road toward the tavern. A hot meal sounded like heaven—a thick stew, fresh bread, maybe even those pastries from yesterday. The pathways had been cleared—someone else’s problem today. Luckily, he didn’t have duty today. No hauling snow or guarding the town’s edge from whatever decided to crawl out of the woods.

Finally, a break.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Royal Residence

Flynn lay still, his arm still draped around Amaya as she slept peacefully, nestled comfortably between him and the back of the couch. Her breathing was soft, slow and even against his chest. The blanket he had pulled up in the middle of the night covered most of her, her face tilted down slightly as she curled herself in against his body.

He’d been awake for some time, roused by distant noises outside as the guards resumed their regular duties. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but darkness engulfed the room—the logs in the hearth long since burned to ash and the moon’s glow barely visible through the window. They must have slept through the “night” here, wrapped around one another.

He hadn’t moved since waking—too afraid to untangle himself from her, to wake her and be faced with reality. Last night felt like a dream. A fever dream with raw emotion that had left them both undone in each other's embrace. A part of him feared that when she woke, she’d regain that stubborn strength of hers, harden, and wall him out again.

His gaze wandered from her peaceful face down to her shoulder, tracing the curve of her body beneath the blanket. Her legs were intertwined with his, fitting in between each other as they had adjusted throughout the night—conscious or not.

He hadn’t slept like this with someone in months. The last time… The last time had been Nyla.

The memory found him before he could stop it, clawing its way out of the dark corner he’d shoved it into. He didn’t want to think about it, but it came anyway. The way they’d been tangled in sheets, breathless and fiercely passionate, her fingers digging into his shoulders. How she’d kissed him with that easy, confident smile, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be wrapped up with him. How he’d whispered things he meant, things that felt so real in that moment.

He could almost hear her laugh, warm and unguarded, and it struck him like a dagger between the ribs. She’d always been flighty and unpredictable—hot and cold like a fickle flame, burning bright one moment and slipping through his fingers the next. Their love had been unsteady—like trying to hold on to a summer storm. Sometimes he didn’t know whether she’d kiss him breathless or tease him just to watch him get flustered.

But there had been subtle, comfortable warmth, too. Gentle, quiet moments when she’d rest her head on his shoulder, humming softly under her breath. Times when she’d look at him like he was the only one who could tie her down without clipping her wings. He’d been so sure of her back then—so sure that, despite her unpredictability, she would always find her way back to him.

And she had.

When he’d been forced to leave, it had felt like a part of him had been ripped away, leaving something jagged and empty behind. Maybe that was the nature of loss—it left echoes that never truly faded, even when life moved on.

But Amaya was here—solid and warm, breathing softly against him. Right where he’d asked her to stay. A hollow ache settled in his chest, his fingers flexing along her waist as if to reassure himself that she was real.

He let out a slow breath, trying to let go of the guilt that gnawed at him—that whisper in his mind that he told him he had no idea what it was that he truly wanted. That he would hold onto anyone who would let him get close enough, if only to feel like he was more than just a pawn in someone else's game.

And yet, Amaya... She'd tried to keep her distance, had attempted to evade him at every turn, but he’d pursued her anyway—drawn to her regardless of the fact that she held no love for him. His heart twisted with something confusing and complex as he tried to pick apart the emotions swirling within him, but it was too much to analyze, and he was too weary.

The air between them suddenly felt too thin. There wasn’t enough for the both of them to share this space. She was stunningly beautiful—a glass work of art that he’d inevitably break.

Carefully, he shifted under the blankets, retreating his hands and untangling his legs from hers as slowly as he could manage. Inch by inch, he freed himself, finally managing to sit up on the edge of the couch. He almost got away with it—almost. But as he reached to pull the blanket back over her, piercing blue eyes blinked open, catching him mid-motion.

That anxious fire within him flickered out, and he couldn’t help the soft smile that curved his lips, caught in her sleepy stare. “Good morning.”

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_{Interactions: Amaya @c3p-0h}