The Muse

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Aelios Temple [Tia's bedroom] | Collaboration with @c3p-0h

Silently, Flynn followed Tia down the hallway, a sense of unease settling over him as he realized that she was leading him toward her own bedroom. Everything he had ever been taught told him that this was improper, especially for people of their station. Then again, he wasn’t quite sure what he had expected—there weren’t many private areas built into the temple that she could have taken him.

Once inside, he gently closed the door behind him, pushing any thoughts of lost decorum from his mind. The room was still faintly warm, with the remnants of a fire flickering low in the hearth opposite her bed. A single candle remained lit on her bedside table, casting a soft, amber glow. He walked toward the fireplace, unwilling to sit on her bed—there was something too personal about it—so instead, he stood before the dying embers.

Crouching, he grabbed one of the logs neatly stacked beside the hearth and carefully placed it atop the charred wood. With a subtle motion of his hand, he summoned a small thread of magic to the surface, igniting the log in an instant. The fire roared to life, casting a bloom of light across the room, illuminating Tia and giving him a better view of her.

He stood and turned toward her, studying her for a moment, noting the nervousness in her eyes and the way it seemed to pain her to speak aloud. His own expression remained steady, as if he were trying to find answers from the look in her eyes alone.

Tia tried not to fidget under his scrutiny, her fingers twisting around each other in front of her legs. She forced herself to hold his gaze. Her mind spun faster and faster with each moment that passed, concocting new reasons to worry.

Flynn took a breath, deciding to forgo the pleasantries of small talk before business. He had already pushed past formalities here, why stop now? The question he had been wanting to ask burned in his chest.

“You’ve already served the crown greatly, Priestess.” Flynn stated, his voice low and firm. The fire crackled beside him, its flickering glow casting shifting shadows across her face as his deep green eyes held her dark eyes, unblinking.

"Lady Hightower made a discovery about the blight." he continued, watching her closely, measuring every movement in her expression. "And it seems you are a key factor in it."

His eyes searched hers for any semblance of recognition or surprise. Was this news to her? Or had she known all along? His eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but in confusion, as if trying to piece together a puzzle.

Tia’s expression didn’t change for a moment. Her eyebrows pulled together slightly, not recognizing the name. And then – her eyes widened.

Eris.

That evening in the hot springs flashed through Tia’s mind. How she’d held Eris’ hand, drawing careful letters into her palm. Seek the violet flow. The words echoed in her mind without a voice.

“How did you know?”

Tia was suddenly very cold. Aelios’ fire crackled, casting the Prince in a flickering silhouette. She could only stare at him, frozen in place. Her dreams… they’d meant something. It was like waking up to that first midnight morning all over again, two days after a dream of eternal darkness. It was the realization that the world was unknowable and more powerful than she would ever comprehend – but it knew her.

_{…Tiiin…gaaaa…raaaaaa…}

But… maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions, and this wasn’t about Willis and his blood (though what else could it possibly be?) and her dreams were nothing. Tia didn’t know why, but she suddenly hoped they were nothing.

She’d been silent too long. The Prince was waiting for an answer. There was no warmth in his expression, none of that patience he’d had for her that first visit to the temple. Tia forced her lips to part. She closed them again. Finally breaking eye contact, she looked down at her hands. She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. Tia looked back up to the Prince.

“Know what?” The words were more breath than voice. They caught against her throat, and she tried to clear it as subtly as she could. But she needed to hear him say it.

Flynn’s eyes narrowed further, not quite buying her feigned ignorance. The silence had stretched between them for too long, giving him reason to believe she was giving herself time to come up with an alibi of some sort.

"How did you know that Willis’ blood would lead to a breakthrough?” he asked, traces of frustration evident in his tone now. “Eris—Lady Hightower—told me she never would have thought to look there, not without you.”

There was no accusation in his words—at least, not yet. What he sought was understanding. But the confusion in his gaze, those dark green eyes narrowed, spoke of more than simple curiosity. There was a growing sense of unease, of something not adding up in his mind. With every passing moment, whatever small amount of trust he had in her began to slip through his fingers like sand.

Tia’s heart was hammering against her ribcage.

It… it could’ve been a coincidence. Willis’ blood was purple, the same distinct shade as the blight she’d seen from afar two months ago. Perhaps her exhausted mind had just put the two clues together and…

But no, she realized, feeling more and more underwater with every breath. She hadn’t seen Willis’ blood until after she’d awoken from her nightmare.

Her prophecy.

_{Something lurked in the periphery.}

Her nerves rose with each degree of displeasure in the Prince’s voice.

“I—” Tia barely managed to cut herself off before she could start coughing. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on her throat. A hand came up unconsciously to slip under the fabric of her scarf and touch the scarred skin of her neck. When Tia opened her eyes again, it was to see the Prince still staring at her with his heavy gaze. She knew she couldn’t lie to him. Not just because she was an atrocious liar, but because she knew he wouldn’t relent until he received a satisfactory answer.

But what of the Arch Priest? He’d ordered her to not reveal her dreams, lest they prove false and do more harm than good. Her prophetic abilities were untested still. Untrained. Unreliable. And the thought of disobeying him, disappointing him again…

Tia spent another thunderous heartbeat staring at the Prince with anxious eyes. The raised skin of her scar was smooth and cool to the touch.

_{...It burned...}

Then she turned to the small drawer beside her bed, pulling it open. Careful stacks of paper filled the cavity, some filled, some fresh — and the book that held careful descriptions of her dreams sat beneath it all. It seemed to burn hotter than the fire the Prince had commanded into existence. Pressing her lips together, Tia pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and a pencil. She willed her hands to stop their trembling.

When she was done writing she turned back to the Prince, hesitating. Then she took three nervous steps towards him, not quite crossing the distance. She held the paper out to him. Her eyes stayed low, unable to meet his.

I did not know for certain. I just wanted to help.

Flynn read the note, his eyes skimming over the words, each one driving the sting of frustration deeper. He felt his patience wearing thin, his chest tightening. She wanted to help, yet here she was, withholding the one thing that could make a difference. His gaze hardened as he crossed his arms over his chest, meeting her eyes again. She flinched back at the cold steel there.

"You didn’t know for certain?" Flynn repeated, his voice flat, unamused by her insufficient answer. "You just took a wild guess, then?” he asked, studying her carefully again. Her lips parted, as if to answer. But no sound came out. “That’s quite lucky.” Disbelief dripped from his tone, though he never raised his voice. Tia felt herself withering under his words, her breath growing short and quick.

“It –”

“How could you want to help, and yet not explain further? If you know something more—don’t you want to help these people? Prevent more death?” The hardened look in his eyes softened for just a brief, pleading moment. Something broke in Tia at the sight – it was as if she’d struck him, guilt seeping into her like blood into soil. Desperate words bubbled in her chest, explanations, pleas, excuses… but none could make it past the ruined path of her throat.

For a few breaths, Flynn was silent, scrutinizing her again. Her breaths were coming rapidly now, audible as they moved through her. He thought back to what little he knew of her—how she had come from the Sunfire Citadel, highly recommended, how she was from the Ember Isles, a skilled healer, and yet... the wound on her neck. The fresh scar that should have never been there. How? How could someone like her have come to such harm, surrounded by those trained to heal? Things were not adding up.

He couldn’t let it go.

A question slipped from his lips before he could stop it, a blunt accusation. "What else does the Arch Priest know? Is that who gave you the information? Does he know how to stop the blight and yet he’d rather sacrifice Princess Amaya and myself instead?" His voice was quieter now, but sharp and filled with suspicion for the man who had sealed his fate with prophecy. Tia jolted at the questions, eyes widening.

For a moment, his mind wandered to his mother and her deep involvement with the Citadel. How much had she known? Had she been part of a larger plan? A pawn in their ploy, or had she also sacrificed him for some greater purpose?

"What game is the Citadel playing at this time? Are you all content to watch the world burn?"

“No! I can’t–” Tia’s voice cracked and shattered against her own jagged pieces. Air was a solid thing, tearing at her throat like claws. She coughed, curling in on herself. Her free hand went up to her throat again, as if her own magic could heal what was wrong with her. As if she was on that old dirt road again, hand against a gaping wound, trying to keep the life from spilling out of her. Her other arm lifted to cover her mouth with her sleeve. Her hand fisted, crumpling the paper.

The coughing fit wracked through her body, each breath another aggravation to her throat. Tears sprang to her eyes. She fought to remember the exercises the other healers had worked on with her – fewer breaths. Slower and longer. Relax the muscles in her neck and torso. But the air was like sand, grit against the mangled components that now made her. Eyes squeezed shut, she tried to hold herself together. She tried to breathe.

Flynn stood frozen, watching as Tia’s body convulsed with painful coughs, tears filling her eyes as she trembled. Each ragged breath struck him somewhere deep, where his Princely duties collided with the compassion he had always held for people. A fatal flaw that his parents had never quite been able to erase. His heart twisted in his chest. He had pushed her too hard, too fast, and now guilt consumed him like a tidal wave.

His finger twitched at his side, instinct urging him to reach out. Every fiber of his being wanted to come to her side, place a hand on her back, and offer comfort. Apologize. Tell her to breathe, to focus. He had always known what to do with his siblings, back when life was simpler, and they needed him in the ways only an older brother could be needed.

But he didn’t move. He forced himself to stay exactly where he was. Jaw tight, fighting against his inherent nature.

He couldn’t afford to give in to those gentle instincts anymore, no matter how badly it gnawed at him. This was too important. His life, Amaya’s life, the blight-born, the hundreds, maybe thousands who would die in the future if he didn’t find a solution—it all hung in the balance.

He needed answers. Real ones.

It felt like an eternity before the coughing subsided. Maybe it was only a moment. But when Tia could finally take a full breath, her throat was raw and burning. A dull ache radiated from her diaphragm. Her eyes were wet. She looked up at the Prince, embarrassed that he’d seen it all. But what would he do? Think less of her? Tia didn’t think his regard for her could get any lower at the moment, not with how he’d looked at her – like she was a person capable of summoning the blight herself.

The weight of his gaze was heavy as a brand.

_{It burned and blistered where it fell on her skin}

Tia pressed her lips together.

Despite his internal war, Flynn hesitated, his gaze softening for just a moment as he saw the raw vulnerability on Tia’s face. She looked so small, so broken, and for a moment, he wavered. He pulled his gaze away, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. His shoulders, once rigid with tension, sagged ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear. He kept his eyes averted, unable to bear the sight of her in that moment. “I just—”

He faltered for a moment, considering his next words. “I need answers. We need answers.” His green eyes flicked back to her, but they were no longer as intense, no longer demanding—just pleading now. “If you know something, anything…”

She looked down at the crumpled paper she held – glimpses of words decorated the peaks and valleys she’d created. She looked back to the Prince. Raising the paper, she smoothed it out as best she could with shaking hands. Folding it was slow work. It felt meditative, almost. Align. Bend. Crease. Smooth. Align. Bend. Crease. Smooth. When she was done, she had a small, dense rectangle of paper, with only two words visible.

Tia allowed herself to hesitate for another moment. Breath scratched against her throat. Then she held it up to show him.

not certain.

Her free hand raised slightly, to stay any immediate reaction he might have, should he think this was another deflection or a lie. She held his gaze, desperately hoping he saw the truth of it. She tapped the paper.

‘Risky.’

There was no voice at all – just air in the shape of a word.

Flynn furrowed his brows as he read the note again, his eyes looking up just in time to see her mouth the word. Deep down, he knew she wasn’t wrong. If the Citadel knew something that she had been trusted with, then telling him their secrets was the most risky thing she’d ever do in her life.

But whose side was she on?

The Arch Priest’s many warnings echoed in Tia’s mind – how important it was to not burden others with the knowledge of her gift until she was sure it could be relied on. What if she couldn’t tell dreams from prophecies? What if she misinterpreted or misremembered things? Bad information was worse than no information at all, especially when she moved with Aelios’ light, drawing the trust and reliance of others. What if she mistakenly pointed them in the wrong direction, wasting time and resources they couldn’t afford to squander? What if she led to more senseless death, rather than prevented it? An ability of this magnitude couldn’t simply be wielded because there was the opportunity. It needed to be vetted and tempered, with discipline and training that Tia hadn’t had time to receive yet.

And now… Tia knew her resolve was a single push away from breaking, and the Prince wasn’t going to leave this conversation without his answers. She knew she was about to disappoint the Arch Priest here in this room, as surely as she knew the sun wouldn’t rise tomorrow. Any hope otherwise seemed foolish. But she needed the Prince to at least understand – the knowledge he sought from her might do more harm than good. Especially because Tia was the one providing it, without the Arch Priest’s guidance or discernment.

Flynn stared at her in silence, the tension between them thick as he considered her words—or rather, the lack thereof. His jaw clenched, a mixture of doubt and frustration weighing heavily on his mind. Time was slipping through their fingers, and every moment wasted meant more lives lost. Flynn could feel it in his bones, like the tightening of a noose inching closer each time the moon rose and fell.

The Citadel—its power and influence were undeniable. No one dared stand against it, not openly. But these were desperate times. Was it not time for the both of them to grow a spine?

Tia’s lack of explanation only managed to further cement his skepticism in the clergy. His ever present disdain for them burned hotter with every passing thought. These were the people who had sealed his fate, who had dictated his and Amaya’s lives with a wave of their hand. They had cast a shadow over his future, condemning him to death before he had a chance to live. But what if it was all fabricated? If they had known about the blight all along, then what else were they keeping hidden? And what exactly did they stand to gain?

A defiant rage stirred within as he stared at Tia for several long and uncomfortable silent heartbeats. A feeling he had managed to quell many times over. Snuff it out and move on. Ignore it and behave. Keep himself in line. But this wasn’t just about him anymore.

If the Citadel held knowledge about the blight—if they had used their influence to manipulate this prophecy to control him, to control the future—then everything was a lie. The thought burned through him like wildfire.

If they had manufactured his fate for their own ends, then Flynn would unravel every thread of their deception. He’d tear down the walls they hid behind and turn it all to ash.

His patience, the good-natured diplomacy he’d always catered to, had worn thin. It seemed that everything he had done to hold himself together—his family’s legacy, the expectations he had been bound by—were irrelevant compared to what they were facing.

Flynn could see Tia’s hesitation, the fear gnawing at her from the inside. Defying the clergy wasn't something to be taken lightly. He let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of his next words before he spoke them. His voice, when it came, was low, firm but not harsh.

“I understand,” he began, his eyes steady on her. “But we’re running out of time. I am running out of time.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. Then, his voice softened, but there was a fierce intensity behind it. “If you know something—anything…” his voice trailed off for a moment, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deception.

“I vow to protect you with my life, Tia.” His voice lowered further, more personal now as he purposely lost her formal title.

“Will you help me?”

Tia could only stand before him, stunned by his declaration – his quiet intensity, her name. The foreign thought that this man she barely knew would… would defend her, even now, when she’d only offered disappointment and frustration, when history told her that anyone else would’ve taken the opportunity to be rid of her. The sheer force of him seemed to radiate off of his body, furious and golden. She felt it burn away any last defenses she had. Giving in seemed as inevitable as the cycle of the stars across the sky.

But then… her eyebrows drew together slightly. ‘Protect’ her? From what? The blight? The blightborn who’d turned feral and vicious? Her throat was aflame with every shallow breath. Her face scrunched as she realized – he still didn’t understand. She looked up at him with her dark eyes, her own frustration finally building within her. It was a familiar feeling to turn inward – it sat in her burning throat, shards of glass cutting any words she could’ve offered in explanation.

She broke her gaze away from his. Looked down. Another cough tried to force its way through her, and it was all she could do to try and stifle it. Tia pressed her lips together again and looked back towards the small bedside table that held her writings. She looked back up to the Prince. His green eyes were nearly black in the flickering firelight of her room.

She walked to the table. Putting down her little folded rectangle, she retrieved her pencil and a fresh sheet of paper and scrawled careful words. Then she looked back into the open drawer. The dark cover of her book peaked out from beneath the stacks of paper. Tia hesitated. But she knew it was inevitable.

Flynn narrowed his eyes as Tia turned away from him, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. Was she truly more aligned with the clergy?

Moving the paper, she pulled out the book, flipping it open to where four sheets of paper were carefully aligned. She grabbed the top two and placed them on the table next to her note. Tia looked back towards the Prince. Somehow she couldn’t bear to put the knowledge in his hands herself. She couldn’t disobey the Arch Priest so directly.

Tia stepped away from the table, the papers resting innocently on the smooth wood. She waited for the inevitable as she clutched the book to her chest, its two remaining pages weighing down her arms.

When she finally looked back at him, her dark eyes filled with uncertainty, Flynn’s brow furrowed deeper. He shifted his gaze to the papers she had spread out on the nightstand, her silent invitation lingering in the air.

He took a few steps forward, his eyes settling the note she had just written. He picked it up, reading under the candle light. The words leaving him puzzled. What could she possibly mean by this?

I’m not the one in danger. I am the risk. I don’t know if my knowledge can be trusted yet.

His fingers brushed the edge of the paper as he stole a quick glance back at Tia, as if she might offer some kind of explanation. Her posture was rigid, clutching her book as if it were a shield, but she offered no expression, no words. Flynn's eyes shifted back to the other two pages she had laid out, the tension in him growing.

The first sheet was softer, more worn from handling. It was filled with careful, confused words – the paragraphs spoke of walking through a sea of darkness, towards a blinding, burning light. How that light crumbled apart bit by bit, shining dust littering the space around her – lining the path below her. It wasn’t the sea – it was a river. A glittering path that sparkled with every step she took, stardust glowing brighter as the burning light fell to pieces, until it was gone completely. All that was left was darkness – darkness that stretched endlessly, beyond any point she would ever reach, filled with only stars and the sounds of her breathing.

Flynn carefully read the hurried lines of writing, each word pulling him into a scene that felt foreign—vivid but abstract. Her words read like poetry, the meaning of it eluding him. He paused, glancing at the date written at the top, then read the words again, slower this time, as he tried to grasp the meaning behind it.

‘Was this a dream?’ He thought, though he couldn’t be sure. Nonetheless, the dream didn’t strike him as anything out of the ordinary. Flynn had plenty of odd dreams such as these. But why would she show this to him?

Finally, he gently set the page down on the table. Without a word, he picked up the final page. His heartbeat noticeably jumped in his chest, as if it instinctively knew that something was about to shift.

The second page was newer, the edges crisp and the ink bright. It told the story of her scar – or part of it, at least. Laying in the dirt. Desperately holding the shredded remains of her throat as blood leaked into the earth and her body numbed. The knowledge that she was dying. The river of stars, glittering above. But then the memory shifted. The stars coalesced into the blight itself, enveloping her as it fell. It pushed itself through her body, replacing the blood that had once filled her. The viscous purple ooze. The hunger. The silhouette with glowing eyes. The words that echoed with countless voices at once: In the eternal one’s veins, seek the violet flow.

Flynn’s eyes moved slowly across the second page, drawn into the memory Tia had captured. The imagery was brutal—a recounting of her near-death. Sympathy for what she had been through gripped him, though he questioned if this, too, was just a dream.

But then, as he reached the final paragraphs, things that had seemed grounded in reality started to become twisted—surreal.

‘The violet flow?’ He echoed the words in his mind, absorbing what Tia had written.

Both pages detailed the burning, unknowable presence that stalked her like prey. Both pages were dated – the first, six months ago. The second, the day she’d arrived in Dawnhaven.

His fingers tightened slightly on the page, and he could feel his heart start to race. The pieces began snapping into place, fragments of understanding threading together in his mind. The purple ooze, the blight. It had led her to Willis’ blood. These weren’t just dreams—they were something more. Visions.

Flynn turned to look at Tia, still holding the page. “You dreamt this?” he asked, his voice low but steady, the weight of realization sinking in. If she had dreamt this… if her dreams held any truth at all…

Tia watched the pages like they were snakes prepared to strike at her. Over the sound of her drumming heart, the Prince’s words reached her. She looked back to his stunned face as her grip on the book tightened. She nodded.

Flynn's gaze flicked back to the page, his eyes swiftly rereading the last portion, as if to reconfirm what he had just read.

He looked back to Tia, meeting her dark eyes. “If this is true,” he said, holding up the page in his hand, “then… you are in more danger than you know.”

He stared at her in silence for a few moments, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. His eyes searched hers, hoping to find some recognition of the peril she could be put in. Did she understand how deep this went? Had she heard about the things he had seen? Had she seen it for herself?

Tia blinked at him, caught off guard. Danger? Why on earth would she be in danger?

Then, bluntly, he asked, “Does the Arch Priest know?” He paused for a moment, but was unable to stop himself from asking the next question. “My mother?”

Confusion swirled within her, shown plain on her face. After a moment she approached the table – and the Prince. Trying to keep a respectful distance from him, Tia released a hand from its achingly tight grip on her book to pick up the pencil. She wrote a new message beneath her previous one, arm stretching to reach.

I came to the Arch Priest after my first one six months ago. He was teaching me to have better control.

Tia paused. The mention of the Queen reminded her of the burning letter still in her pocket. Fresh guilt filled her.

I don’t know if he told Her Majesty. He thought it would be dangerous for others to know before I had proper training.

Flynn read the words carefully, his brows furrowing as he processed what Tia had written. The Arch Priest was training her? His gaze focused toward the floorboards in thought, his eyes becoming distant. The world around him blurring.

An unwelcome memory clawed its way to the surface.

There she was—beaming at him, her fiery red hair catching the sunlight. The bustling noise of the market surrounded them, the kingdom alive with the scent of spices and the chatter of vendors and patrons alike. She laughed, her smile so full of life as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the path. Her free spirited energy infectious. Abbi.

They were teenagers, carefree, weaving through the busy market. Laughter and the hum of life surrounding them.

And then, suddenly, darkness.

The warmth drained away in an instant. They were beneath the castle, hidden in the maze-like chambers no one ever spoke of. The air cold and damp. The walls pressed in around him. His heart raced. His mother’s hand gripped his own with a fierce, almost painful strength—anchoring him in place.

Abbi crumpled on the ground. She sobbed, her body trembling. The echo of her pain filled the small, cold chamber. The Arch Priest, younger then, stood over her, his face dark with anger. His mother’s face pale, but set in stone. Flynn’s pulse thundered in his ears. The Arch Priest lifted a hand. Abbi screamed.

The memory felt like a vice around his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter until he couldn’t breathe.

Flynn shook his head sharply, forcibly snapping himself out of it. His vision cleared, and the memory faded. His eyes refocused on Tia, grounding himself in the present. His heart pounded, but his face remained stoic as he stared at her. He couldn’t let it happen again.

"We should keep your dreams between us, for now." he said quietly, his voice guarded. “But please tell me if you have another. Your vision has been proven true, so far.” He paused, his expression darkening. “But we have to be careful.”

He looked down at the paper in his hand again, realizing he had been gripping it tightly. He offered it back to Tia, his eyes locking with hers. She reached out with a nervous hand. For a moment they both held the paper, gazes held heavy between them.

“The Arch Priest… he has not taken kindly to seers who’ve spoken up, in the past.”

Tia’s eyebrows pulled together, her head tilting in confusion. He was so… worried. Why? The storm that had passed over his features stuck with Tia, the memory of his eyes unfocusing, his countenance growing dark. Her hair stood on end. There was still so much she hadn’t told him. And he was demanding her secrecy, just as the Queen had, as the Arch Priest had. Whom was she to obey? The Arch Priest’s face flashed in her mind. His gentle demeanor, the way his skin wrinkled when he gifted her with an encouraging smile. How much it’d hurt when she’d lost his favor through her own foolishness. Her throat burned. She brought the wrinkled paper to hold against her book, before picking up the pencil and writing again on her notepaper.

Before the storm I wrote to the Arch Priest about dreams I’ve had here. He has only ever offered me guidance.

Flynn studied Tia’s words, his brow furrowing in thought. Had the Arch Priest had a change of heart after all these years? Time could alter even the most stubborn of men, couldn’t it? Perhaps the man who once towered in Flynn’s memories—sharp, domineering, and unrelenting—had softened, become someone Tia could trust. And yet…

Flynn shook his head slowly, letting out a faint breath through his nose. He glanced up from the note, meeting Tia’s gaze. “Guidance… for now.” he said, a warning laced in his tone, “so long as it suits him.”

Without another word, he straightened and turned, taking a few steps back toward the warmth of the hearth. He stood there for a moment, his back to her, one hand resting on the mantel as he stared into the flickering flames. Silence stretched between them, only broken by the occasional pop of burning wood.

His thoughts raced as he watched the flames flicker. How much could he trust Tia? Deep down, he knew he couldn’t trust her at all. No matter how much he wanted to believe that people were inherently good, she was still part of the clergy. She still held strong bonds of loyalty to them. She’d been sent here as the blade to their prophecy, after all. There was little that could be done for someone so indoctrinated.

It wasn’t surprising to him, she’d been nurtured by their teachings, sheltered in their halls. She had no reason to question their motives. And yet, it wasn’t her loyalty that unsettled him.

It was the way she always managed to peel back his defenses with nothing more than a glance or a carefully written note. With Tia, the mask slipped too easily. The layers he’d worked so hard to maintain fell away. She always left him feeling vulnerable, raw in ways he couldn’t explain. He hated it. ‘Stupid.’ he chastised himself. He had said too much. Felt too much.

Still, he needed her. Her assistance, her insight, her healing capabilities. If her visions held any truth, then she would be invaluable—assuming the Arch Priest wasn’t pulling all her strings. He had to tread carefully, to temper his frustration and keep his distance. Pushing her too hard could cost him, and that was something he couldn’t afford to lose. Not right now, anyway.

His jaw tightened as he finally turned back to her, mindfully steeling off his emotional ties this time. “We’ll be traveling to the blight lands soon,” he said, his words firm but calm. “The discovery must be tested. I’d like you to come with us.”

Tia watched the way the firelight flickered around the edges of his body, his face cast in shadow. She’d missed something, somehow – some opportunity had slipped away from her, and now the weight of every secret she was still keeping sat heavy between them. The Prince’s voice, cold and formal, only seemed to bury her deeper.

Her eyes widened at his declaration. His face might’ve been dark and hidden, but hers was not. Fear was stark across her features. But only for a moment. She looked away from him, like that might hide her thoughts.

Traveling to the blight lands. The memory of her last trek towards the blight was painted across her neck. It was the pale color of her hair. The broken shards of her voice.

Her grip on the book grew tight, her knuckles whitening. She couldn’t look at him as she nodded. Tia was nothing if not obedient.

Obedient to whom? To what end? All Tia had ever wanted was to help others – and now it seemed that any choice she made, someone was put at risk. The Arch Priest was relying on her. The Queen was relying on her. And now the Prince, so desperate for solutions… he still didn’t know about the two other visions she’d had. What if they were false, because Tia was still inadequate? What if he poured his resources chasing after a fantasy she’d dreamed up?

Tia looked back up to the Prince. She still couldn’t see his face clearly, but his eyes caught the light from the candle on her table. She nodded again, trying to seem more sure of herself.

She would tell him about the dreams, as he’d requested… after she could be sure they were worthy of his pursuit. Or perhaps the Arch Priest had replied to her by now, giving his blessing to freely share her visions. Tia prayed that was the case. But something about the way the Prince seemed so sure the Arch Priest couldn’t be trusted, contradicting everything she knew about him… Tia chewed the inside of her lip.

And as for the letters to the Queen… Tia felt the stiff envelope shift over the inner layer of her robe. It was an unanswered question bearing down on her.

Flynn's attention lingered on Tia's face, catching the fear that suddenly flashed in her eyes before she averted her gaze. For a moment, he wondered what the Arch Priest saw in her. What had compelled him to send her here to this desolate, icy wasteland? How could she be chosen to cut the thread of life for the former heir to the Aurelian throne?

Flynn had expected someone much more stoic, calculating and manipulative. Someone more molded for a task like this. And then, he thought—was this the Arch Priest’s way of being rid of her without getting blood on his own hands? There was something raw and uncertain about her, a vulnerability that made her presence here feel cruel. And yet, she managed to unravel him so easily. Maybe she was exactly the right person for the task.

For a moment, the urge to apologize, to acknowledge the weight he had added to her shoulders, tugged at him. But he forced it down, retreating behind practiced detachment. Sympathy wouldn’t keep either of them safe. Instead, he simply nodded an acknowledgement, his expression unreadable.

"I’ll let you know when we plan to leave," he said, his voice returning to formality, devoid of warmth. "Once I’ve finalized the details."

Without waiting for her reply, he made his way to the door. At the threshold, he paused briefly, his back to her, his tone colder than he intended.

"Thank you for your service to the crown."

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Hot Springs

Kira’s smirk widened as Orion’s dry retort hung in the air. For the first time in what felt like forever, a spark flickered to life within her—a warmth she hadn’t realized she’d missed so deeply. The rhythm of playful banter. The subtle dance of give and take. The unspoken challenge laced within words. A flicker of something stirring in her chest that she thought she’d long forgotten how to feel. For a fleeting moment, she felt alive again. Human.

“A stable boy? Mmm…” she mused, leaning into a teasing tone. “Not my type either, I’m afraid.” She paused, tilting her head and looking upward, as if weighing her words with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “I think I prefer something… more mysterious. Brooding, perhaps.” Her fiery eyes locked onto his, a mischievous glint in them.

For a heartbeat, the air between them felt charged, her words hanging there with a daring edge. Then, just as quickly, she shifted her attention back to Sya, whose bold and flirtatious words spilled freely—likely encouraged by the bottle of wine that she had downed more than half of.

At Sya’s flirtatious remark seemingly aimed at her, Kira arched a brow in amusement. Her gaze flicked to Sya’s blue scales, lingering there for a moment as she considered the comment. She had been with a woman or two before, but a half-snake? That would be a new one.

How would that even work? Did Sya only gain pleasure from her top half now? She blinked a few times, her lips pressing into a firm line as she yanked her mind back to the present. Clearly the alcohol was going right to her head, too.

Without another word, she grabbed the bottle Sya had passed around and took another sip. Placing the bottle down beside Orion, Kira chuckled lightly under her breath as Sya proposed “lightening their purses” for some of the Prince’s wine. “I might take you up on that offer sometime.” she murmured with a faint smile, enjoying the sassy energy that radiated off Sya now. Despite the turmoil of her emotions, Kira had to admit that there was something endearing about Sya’s unabashed nature.

Her mood shifted sharply, though, as Sya brought up Ayel again. A spark of irritation flared in her chest, and her amusement disappeared, replaced by a steely expression. Kira clicked her tongue. “Tch. Don’t waste your time worrying about him,” she said coldly, her voice low. “He’s just a weak little man who doesn’t know his head from his ass. Let him talk. You have more power in a single scale than he does in his entire being.” She seethed, her hatred of him palpable.

“He doesn’t get to decide who holds the power here.” There was an edge to her words—a subtle, dangerous undercurrent. At the end of the day, Ayel’s life existed here because blight-born allowed it. Because she allowed it. If not for her weak desire for community, Kira would have already drained every last drop of his life force.

The words hung in the air for a moment, edged like a blade. Her patience for men like Ayel was razor-thin, her sense of justice and her lingering rage a volatile combination. Kira’s gaze flicked to Orion briefly, half-expecting a look of disapproval or for him to chime in with some tempered wisdom to counter her aggression.

But then Sya shifted the conversation, her teasing directed squarely at him, and Kira’s expression softened. The fire of her irritation dimmed to a faint flicker, yet lingered like a dying ember.

Though she still felt the residual tension from the mention of Ayel, she tried to push it aside, trying to reclaim that spark of life she’d held so briefly. Her eyes flit between the two of them as she watched the interaction. The corner of her lips quirking upward ever so slightly as she watched Orion, curious to see how he would handle Sya’s brazen flattery.

---

_{Interactions: Orion @Qia, Sya @PrinceAlexus}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Residential Area - Outside

Eris furrowed her brows as Ayel questioned her on what the donation had been for. Certainly his family did fund many things, but this sort of thing felt like it should’ve stood out from all the rest. "The funding for researching a cure for the blight." She reminded him, her voice soft despite her confusion.

Suddenly, though, her memory recalled that she had heard it had been his eldest brother’s name on the donation. She would not mention that and risk embarrassing the Lord, though. Wounding Ayel’s ego seemed like a dangerous mistake to make. Still, the whole exchange struck her as odd. How could Ayel not know? Was he truly so detached from his family's endeavors?

Her gaze hardened slightly as Ayel began to speak of Sya in such a negative light. Sya was one of the most genuine people she knew, often wearing her heart on her sleeve, and hearing Ayel speak of her made something cold stir within. She knew the prejudice many held against blight-born, but it still saddened her that such venom could be so freely spoken in what was supposed to be their safe haven. They were still people. Sya was still a person.

Why had Ayel even come to Dawnhaven if he held such disdain for its people? She couldn’t fathom why anyone who hated blight-born would willingly enter a town so full of them. Did he have ill intentions? She even doubted his words about being Flynn’s best friend—his attitude clearly didn’t align with the Prince’s values.

Worse yet, it made her wonder if she had added to Sya’s burden by her reaction earlier that day. Guilt crept in closer, and she glanced quickly down, fighting the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in her chest. Had she been no better than those who held disdain Sya?

As Ayel moved on to speak of the Prince’s marriage, Eris’ discomfort deepened. The way he referred to Amaya as a "barbarian" was nothing short of disrespectful. Eris had limited experience with the Princess, but what she could tell, she had been nothing but kind, and her position as the Princess of Lunaris demanded respect. “Prince Flynn did marry Princess Amaya," she confirmed, her voice now a touch colder, "and from my experience, she’s been quite lovely. As has Sya, the innkeeper."

Ayel was bold, perhaps too bold for his own good. She couldn't imagine what the Lunarians might do if they heard him speak like this about their Princess. And what if the Prince were to hear? She had heard the rumors about Ayel’s ego, but seeing it in action was something else entirely.

Sensing a subtle shift in Nathaniel’s demeanor, Eris quickly stole a glance up at him. As he began to play at Ayel’s obvious vanity, she offered a small, mischievous smile. Turning her attention back to Ayel, she nodded along with the over the top compliments Nathaniel handed to him. The sarcasm seemed to go entirely over Ayel’s head, and she couldn’t help but find it amusing.

When Ayel confirmed just how charismatic and beautiful he thought he was, Eris almost laughed outright. Luckily, her training as a noble woman allowed her to stifle it and only allow the small twitch of a smile to pull at the edge of her lips. She didn’t have to try hard to believe the rumors now; Ayel's arrogance dripped from his every word.

As Nathaniel asked if they could head to the Alchemy Chambers, she turned to him, considering it for a moment. Was it odd or unladylike to bring him back to her home? No… it wasn’t just her home. He would be working there too, after all. It was only natural that he would want to see his work station… right?

“Of course.” She agreed, glancing back at Ayel who began to speak of his younger sister. “I did not realize Lady Anora would be arriving as well. I will be sure to look for her.” she said, genuinely surprised. Anora did not strike her as the type to venture to such a dangerous place—and she was so young. Did their family not care for her safety? Then again, Ayel didn’t seem the type to care for much beyond himself.

“It was a pleasure, Lord Raunefeldt.” she lied, bowing her head to him briefly and offering a warm smile. Turning back to Nathaniel, she caught his gaze as they both turned to leave.

Once they were out of earshot, Eris couldn’t hold it in anymore. She flashed Nathaniel a knowing look, her blue eyes sparkling with mischievous amusement. "He's, uhm… interesting, isn't he?" she said, barely holding back a giggle. She kept her voice low as they walked toward the Alchemy Chambers, boots crunching against ice and snow.

With a playful tilt of her head, she added, "So… why didn’t you keep dancing with Daphne? You two were quite the pair out there. I’m sure she was enjoying herself." She teased, her tone light, but her eyes flickered to him, trying to read what lay beneath his carefully composed exterior.

---

_{Interactions: Nathaniel @Echotech71, Ayel @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Aelios Temple

Flynn sat leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared into the eternal flame, lost in thought while the soft crackle of the fire filled the air. The flickering light danced across his face as he contemplated his responsibilities. At the sound of a nearby door creaking open, he was pulled from his thoughts. His gaze lifted as Tia entered the temple, her silhouette framed by the warm glow of Aelios’ flame. Two blonde women followed close behind her, both unfamiliar to him.

Tia seemed to freeze in place, obviously shocked by his sudden presence. Another woman snapped to attention the moment she laid eyes on him, wearing the recognizable armor of Aelios' Champions. It seemed Tia had received some reinforcements to help her tend to the temple and keep her safe here, which was a relief.

The second unfamiliar woman, however, seemed to shrink back, trying her best to blend into Tia’s shadow. Flynn's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the horns protruding from behind Tia’s blonde hair and a swaying tail behind them. A Blightborn. He made a mental note of another new blight-born arrival in town—one he'd need to interview in due time. Strangely, she wore priestess robes. Had Tia lent her a spare set? Flynn’s brow furrowed as his gaze lingered on the Blightborn woman, who seemed too terrified to meet his eyes.

An awkward silence filled the temple, none of them speaking a word for a few heartbeats. His father would have stood in rigid silence with glaring eyes, demanding formalities until those who entered bowed to him first. Instead, Flynn sighed inwardly and rose from his seat. He gave them each a respectful nod, bowing his head to the three women, a gesture of greeting that was not required of him but felt more natural.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” he greeted, his voice warm but formal. His eyes briefly passed to the Champion of Aelios, whose stance spoke of her strict discipline. “At ease, Champion.”

Then his gaze shifted toward the one hiding behind Tia. Flynn tried to catch a glimpse of her face, but it remained buried in Tia’s shoulder, her tail twitching with nerves. The way she hid reminded him of his youngest sister, shy and timid Lilliana who dearly loved her eldest brother. It pulled at his heartstrings, and he felt the urge to reassure her, to tell her she was safe here and that he held no judgment against her. “Welcome to Dawnhaven, both of you.” he simply offered instead, a faint smile reaching his lips.

Shifting his focus back to Tia, he hesitated, studying her familiar face. She still seemed surprised by his presence, as though she were bracing for impact. Did she already know why he was here? Had she expected him to confront her about the blight and had hoped to avoid it? He wondered how she was getting this information—or, more importantly, who was feeding it to her.

“Might I have a word with you, Priestess?” he asked, his gaze flicking toward the corridor that led to the private rooms, his head subtly tilting in that direction. “In private?” He added, meeting Tia’s eyes again, his expression not betraying any sort of emotion as he waited on her response.

---

_{Interactions: Tia @c3p-0h Dyna, Ranni @Queen Arya}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Hot Springs

Kira smirked at Orion’s reply, her lips curving with sly amusement. “A night or two?” she teased, her voice carrying a sultry tone to it now. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” She let the innuendo hang between them for a beat, enjoying the light tension it created. It almost felt like old times. Finding herself next to another noble, whispering sweet nothings in their ear. Coaxing secrets from their lips.

But as Orion began to open up about the Prince and how Flynn had given him another chance—trusted him when others didn’t—the mischief slowly drained from her expression. She hadn’t expected Orion to open up about his past with the Prince, much less with such honesty. It was clear there was deep loyalty there. He wasn’t there just for show, then. They truly had a bond of some sort.

A flicker of something like jealousy stirred in her chest. Every position she’d ever held had been out of necessity, driven by obligation or survival—never because she truly cared for the one giving the orders. Instinctively, she was mindful about committing all his words to memory. Though, she did not know who she was being so meticulous for anymore. She no longer sold secrets in exchange for her soul, yet it felt natural.

Kira wasn’t one to bare her soul so freely, but what Orion described aligned with the version of the Prince she had encountered. Flynn had given her another chance too, despite knowing little about her beyond the surface. She had gone through with his little interview he conducted on all blight-born, but she had revealed only enough to satisfy him and make him believe she was trustworthy. To her, he seemed rather naive and idealistic, yet still kinder than any noble she had ever met—let alone royalty.

The royals and nobility in Lunaris were far from kind—cold and calculating was more accurate. Flynn’s warmth had been disarming at first, but Kira had learned long ago that kindness often concealed ulterior motives. There was always an angle. Always something hidden beneath the surface. Flynn’s efforts to build Dawnhaven as a haven for blight-born was admirable, but she could see desperation clung to him like a shadow. The prophecy levied against him looming overhead. She didn’t blame him, but he wasn’t doing this out of the pure kindness of his heart. Flynn, with all his supposed benevolence, couldn’t be exempt from suspicion. No one was.

When Orion turned the question back on her, asking if she had any connections from her past that she treasured, Kira’s body instinctively tensed. She didn’t care for questions like these, ones that probed too close to things she preferred to keep buried. In the past, she would have shifted the conversation with ease, steering it back into safer waters, charming her way out of answering. She could tell them a lie or five, fabricating another life she had never lived. She had been good at that—using her looks, her wit, her body language to disarm people, to enchant them. To keep them exactly where she wanted them.

But now, after everything that had happened, it felt harder to grasp that part of herself. Deep down it was still there, yet it would slip through her fingers when she needed it most.

Her amber eyes dropped to the water, watching the gentle ripples without really seeing them. She didn’t respond right away, her mind grappling with memories she’d long buried, feelings she’d shut away. Elara.

For a moment, she thought about how much isolation had changed her. Perhaps even more than the blight. It was as if the parts of her that had once been sharp and magnetic were dulled, eroded by time and solitude. She could feel herself clamming up, her usual defenses rising like an impenetrable wall.

Thankfully, Sya began to speak, offering a welcome distraction. Kira looked at her with a sense of relief, letting the conversation flow away from her, thankful that she hadn’t been pressed to speak first.

Kira listened quietly, though Sya’s story didn’t surprise her. It was a familiar one—entire towns swallowed by blight, bloodlines erased, families shattered. Kira had heard versions of it before, countless times across Lunaris. Even Kira had been a victim of a similar story, a village lost just as quickly. Royals turned a blind eye, whether out of indifference or malice, it didn’t matter. The result was the same. The loss was the same.

She grabbed the bottle Orion had set beside him and took another drink, her movements steady and deliberate, lacking the hesitation she had noted in Orion’s earlier. As Sya spoke about the stable boy she might have had a life with, Kira offered a closed-lip smile when their eyes met, one of feigned amusement and understanding. Sya was clearly trying to connect with her, but the effort missed its mark.

Kira had never understood the desire to talk about men in such a gossipy way, though she knew it was popular, especially within the noble circles. In the past she’d fake interest and indulge people if it got her the information she needed. But to her it was childish. Perhaps it was because she had never grown up with the same experiences as other teenage girls. Gossiping about boys seemed trivial—stupid, even. Sya’s attempt at bonding felt foreign, though Kira wouldn’t let her know that.

When Sya finished, Kira sensed the unspoken expectation in the air, as if Sya and Orion were waiting for her to share her own story. To spill her soul just as Sya had. Yeah, right. Kira wasn’t about to unravel her own scars for strangers, no matter how much she might relate to their stories. She wasn’t that foolish.

Sidestepping the question entirely, she reached inward and attempted to grasp that charisma she had once wielded with such ease. She shifted in her seat, leaning forward to offer Sya the bottle of wine. "You're doing a good job running the inn." Kira said with a small, practiced smile, trying to inject some warmth into her voice. "The Prince made a good choice in you." She shifted her gaze to Orion, adding, “In both of you.”

As Sya took the bottle, Kira settled back, hoping no one would press her for more. Still, she knew she couldn’t leave it at that. It wasn’t enough to derail the topic at hand. She needed to say something bolder, something that would disarm them and make them focus on themselves again. Although none of them were human anymore, blight-born still shared similar flaws—people loved to talk about themselves.

"Maybe you'll find another tall stable boy around here." she added, a teasing edge in her voice as she played off Sya’s earlier comment. Her gaze slid to Orion, her lips in a mischievous smirk once more. "And what about you? Are you in the market for a stable boy too?" she joked, her tone playfully casual. She knew he was treading dangerous waters—talking about loved ones with fellow blight-born who had likely lost everything—but Sya had been the one to bring up the topic, and Kira knew it’d work to shift the focus. At least for a moment. Anything to keep the conversation from lingering on her.

The past could stay where it belonged—buried. At least, for tonight.

---

_{Interactions: Orion @Qia, Sya @PrinceAlexus}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Residential Area - Outside

Eris trudged through the dark, icy streets, the frozen ground crunching beneath her boots. The torch lights flickered faintly along the path, guiding her toward the residential area on the west side of town. Wrapped snugly in her flaming coat, she barely felt the biting cold around her. The magical warmth from the coat radiated out, a protective barrier against winter.

Still, her thoughts refused to settle. Despite her best efforts, her mind kept wandering back to the tavern, back to Daphne, who was no doubt charming Nathaniel with her confident words and striking presence. What flirtatious words might be passing between them right now? Eris clenched her jaw, pushing the image out of her head. There was no point dwelling on any of that. She had more important things to think about.

She shifted her focus, mentally listing everything she needed for the expedition. Number one was this coat, of course. But what else? She wished she had Aurelian-made clothing that were better suited for winter, something sturdier for the harsh elements. Perhaps there were some warm Lunarian imports she could purchase in town. Or maybe Ivor could hunt down a fur pelt for her. That would help.

Then there was the matter of food. They'd have to ration carefully, especially if the group was large. How long would they be out there? What would they even find? Her thoughts flicked to weapons. She’d never been trained with a sword. She knew both defensive and offensive magic, yes, but without the sun, it would be extremely risky to rely on it.

A dagger might be a better option—lightweight, easy to carry. She could buy one from the local blacksmith and at least try to defend herself, if it came to that. But even the thought of wielding it made her nervous. Could she really stab someone—or something if it came to it? Her breath fogged in the frigid air as her heart raced a little at the thought of combat. She had never been much of a fighter. The uncertainty of it all made nerves bundle in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. She would manage. She had to.

Just then, her thoughts were interrupted by a voice cutting through the chilled air, calling her name. The sound startled her, and she stopped in her tracks. She glanced around the dark streets, eyes squinting as she peered into the shadows. The torches barely illuminated the area beyond a few feet, and most of the surrounding landscape was swallowed in darkness. Was she imagining things?

But then, in the distance, she spotted two figures standing beside a carriage. One of them... was that Nathaniel? She focused on them, trying to make out their faces. The silhouette seemed to match his stature, at least. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. Had he really left Daphne to come after her? A foolish move on his part, but the thought brought a small smile to her lips.

She watched as the shorter figure—Nathaniel—called her name again, a conjured magical hand extending to shake the hand of the other person beside him. She hesitated for a moment, her mind reminding her of the work that awaited her in the Alchemy Chambers. But it would be so rude of her to keep walking away…

"I'm here!" she called back to him, carefully making her way over the icy road. She was determined not to slip and make a fool of herself again—especially not in front of Nathaniel.

When she finally reached them, she stopped, her breath catching slightly as she recognized the other figure standing with Nathaniel. "Oh!" she exclaimed, surprised. She quickly bowed, instinctively respectful. "Lord Raunefeldt. I wasn’t expecting to see you here in Dawnhaven."

She straightened, meeting Ayel’s gaze. She didn’t know him well, and they had never interacted directly, but his reputation preceded him. His family was renowned, closely tied to the royal family. Their connection to the royals was often discussed in noble circles, and her own mother had always held a complicated, if not cold, relationship with Ayel’s mother. Eris, however, maintained a polite facade, knowing the importance of such connections.

"My name is Eris Hightower, lead Sage here. I heard your family recently donated a large sum to the Research Academy," she continued, offering him a sincere smile. “Thank you so much. Your family’s support means a great deal to our efforts here, and I’ll do my best to ensure that the funds go to good use.”

She bowed again, deeply, showing her respect for his family's generosity. When she rose, she stole a glance at Nathaniel, who didn’t seem particularly thrilled, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. Was it Ayel’s presence that bothered him? She had heard about Ayel’s rather abrasive nature, so it wouldn’t surprise her. Had Ayel said something to upset him? Or was it her that upset him? Her mind raced, but she pushed the thoughts aside for now.

Turning back to Ayel, she offered a small smile. “There’s a feast at the tavern, hosted by the Prince. You should join everyone inside for food and warmth before you catch a cold out here.” She gestured toward the tavern, hoping to steer the conversation in a lighter direction as she tried to gauge the undercurrent of tension between the two men.

---

_{Interactions: Nathaniel @Echotech71, Ayel @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder / Aelios Temple | Time: 12pm

For a moment, Flynn considered pulling Amaya aside, his guilty conscience urging him to tell her everything. He quickly ran through several scenarios on how he might phrase it, but even in his mind he fumbled over the words. He needed more time to think it through. Now wasn’t the time. Plus, she was clearly busy.

His eyes narrowed, resting on the man on the ground, dark-haired and rough-looking. Concern etched across the faces of those around him, but the man’s attention laid fully on Amaya. The moment they locked eyes, the man’s expression shifted. He flashed her a sly mischievous smirk—small, but unmistakably suggestive—directed right at her. Flynn couldn't hear what they were saying, the conversation muted by the distance and the ambient noise of the tavern crowd, but the man's intentions were clear enough. He was flirting with her—boldly, and without a care.

A strange feeling coiled inside Flynn, a sharp irritation that he hadn’t anticipated. Civilians flirting with royalty wasn’t uncommon, especially when it came to someone as striking as Amaya. He had seen it happen with his sisters before, and encountered it himself countless times. Typically he would have brushed it off without a second thought. But this felt different.

The way the man looked at her, the easy confidence in his smile—it stirred something deeper. He tried to push the feeling aside, reminding himself that he had more pressing matters to deal with. And what right did he have in getting jealous? Hell, he didn't even know what the man had said and was jumping to conclusions. Yet, despite his best efforts, the irritation lingered, a subtle burn that gnawed at him.

His gaze shifted to Amaya, who stood just a few feet from the man. He studied her expression, searching for any hint of amusement or familiarity between them. But her face remained as composed and unreadable as ever, cool and detached. A flicker of relief passed through him. At least this man hadn’t managed to crack through her icy exterior any more than he himself ever could, he supposed.

Reminding himself that he needed to focus on his ever growing task list, his mind drifted to the Priestess, Tia. Eris had told him that she somehow knew about Willis' blood. But how? The question nagged at him. Tia seemed to know more than she was letting on. He needed to ask her directly, but he had not seen her among the crowd earlier. He guessed she was likely still at the temple, tending to her duties. Tia didn’t strike him as the social type, especially with the scar around her neck that she did her best to hide. Still, after a week of isolation, he half-expected she might want some company. But if she wasn’t here, then heading to the temple seemed like the most logical step.

He hesitated for a moment, aware that he should tell Amaya where he was going. Though he often appreciated her company, the thought of her wanting to accompany him right now only added to his tension. He needed to be alone right now—to process everything that had happened. He intended to tell her about the blight discovery and Nyla, but later—when they could be alone. When he knew what to say and how to say it. For now, he’d have to keep the conversation short and sweet.

Flynn approached Amaya quietly, placing a hand gently on the small of her back to draw her attention as he moved to her side. And perhaps—unconsciously—he was subtly marking his familiarity with her, too.

She turned to him, and he offered a brief, apologetic smile before addressing the group. “Apologies for the interruption.” he said politely, as he overheard a woman offering to heal the man on the ground. Flynn’s eyes swept over the faces gathered around, bowing his head slightly in apology before he met Amaya’s gaze again.

“I’m heading to the Aelios temple to speak with the Priestess about something,” he said in a low voice meant only for her. “But I’ll be back for you in a little bit.” His tone was calm, offering her a moment of reassurance before he straightened and addressed the group again.

"I’m sorry I can’t stay longer," Flynn said, his gaze briefly meeting the dark-haired man. "But rest assured, we have skilled healers here who can see to you." His eyes swept over the rest of the group, offering a warm, apologetic smile again before he turned to leave. As he did, Flynn caught a glimpse of Gadez—Halcyon—slipping out of the tavern just as left the group. Flynn's pace slowed slightly, an unsettling tension creeping into his thoughts as he wondered if it was still safe to leave Amaya in his presence. Technically, Halcyon hadn’t actually done anything to indicate that he was violent, but… Flynn shook off the thought, reminding himself that the entire area was surrounded by guards who were trained to keep an eye on the Princess. Not only that, but he had witnessed Amaya’s magical strength with his own eyes. She could certainly handle herself, if she had to.

Rounding another corner that led toward the northern side of town, Flynn began heading towards the temple. The streets were relatively quiet, only the occasional guard patrolling in the distance, and Flynn found the stillness soothing in contrast to the chaos inside his head. It seemed most of the town was still gathered in or around the tavern, the warmth and camaraderie pulling them in after the week-long blizzard.

Flynn's mind churned as he made his way through the icy roads, eventually settling on Halcyon—the strange man with that unsettling grin and mischievous blue eyes. He couldn't quite get a read on him. Ally? Enemy? Maybe both, whenever it suited him. Something about him felt dangerous but useful—Flynn would have to ask Orion to dig into the man’s background.

Shaking off the uneasy feeling Halcyon always left him with, Flynn approached the temple, where the warm steam from the hot springs behind it rose in the distance under the pale light of the full moon. His thoughts drifted to his last conversation with Tia—the way he had guided her hands to his body, showing her exactly where to strike if his time ever came. If he were to ever speak to Aelios again, he’d pray that the memory would stick with Tia too, so that she could make his death a swift one.

He had been so hopeless then, certain he’d face an early end. But now, he had a glimmer of hope. He had information that could lead them to a cure, or at the very least, stop more deaths. Somehow, Tia had known where to look before anyone else.

Entering the temple, Flynn was greeted by the warmth of the eternal flame inside. His boots creaked against the wooden floor, snow melting off in little puddles as he made his way toward the flame. He glanced around the temple, expecting to see Tia tending to the flame, but the place was eerily quiet.

When he reached the brazier in the middle of the room, Flynn stood there for a moment, letting the heat chase the lingering cold from his bones. He glanced down the nearest corridor that led to the private rooms. Was she really still asleep? Enough time had passed that it must be well into the afternoon by now, yet she hadn’t stirred? Then again, he had no doubt people's sleeping schedules had been thrown off with the absence of the sun. Still, Flynn frowned. The idea of waking her seemed wrong, yet waiting for her felt just as awkward. It wasn’t often that royalty sat waiting for anyone, and it usually made people uncomfortable when he loitered for too long as they felt the need to cater to his every need.

With a sigh, Flynn found a seat on one of the pews near the eternal flame. For now, he’d wait. At least it was quiet here, the kind of quiet that allowed him to organize his thoughts. He stared into the fire, his mind drifting to the upcoming journey to the blight lands that he'd need to plan out. There were so many decisions to make—who to bring, what to prepare.

Flynn rubbed a hand over his face, trying to push the weight of it all aside for just a moment. He had to focus. How he felt didn’t matter. When had it ever?

---

_{Interactions: Vellion @Dark Light, Amaya @c3p-0h
Mentions: Halcyon @Dezuel, Aurora @BlackRoseSiren, Valthyr @Fetzen, Elara @Qia}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Hot Springs

Kira’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she caught Orion’s gaze, mirroring her thoughts on Ayel’s rather hasty exit. The corner of her lips curled into a small smirk. She didn’t know who the mystery woman was that the nobleman had fled from, but Kira would certainly need to seek her out and thank her for her service.

Keeping her eyes on Orion, she shook her head and opened her mouth to respond, ready to admit that she had no idea who the woman was. But before she could speak, Sya slithered closer and began explaining who the Aurelian man had been. Kira listened quietly from her seated position, pulling her knees up and covering her chest, just barely visible beneath the steaming water.

She made sure to remember the details Sya provided, filing the information away within her mind for safe keeping. Ayel of House Raunefeldt. A Marquess. The Prince’s supposed friend. Kira frowned slightly, somewhat surprised that the Prince would associate with a man as haughty as Ayel. It wasn’t surprising that nobility flocked together, but it was hard to imagine the Prince, with his more humble demeanor, associating closely with someone so insufferable. The thought gave her pause—perhaps there were sides to Flynn she hadn’t yet observed. Her eyes shifted to Orion. Was he hiding a similar side of himself too? He didn’t seem to be close to Ayel, despite his close connection to the Prince. That, too, was interesting.

“Kira.” she introduced herself quietly to Sya, her eyes moving to the bottle of wine offered. She hesitated for a moment before deciding that after everything that had transpired, she could certainly use a drink. She tipped the bottle back, savoring the sweet taste, the warmth settling into her chest. Although human food no longer brought her comfort, at least there was still this.

Silently, she extended the bottle towards Orion as he settled beside her, dipping his feet into the warm water. The quiet between them was companionable, understandings communicated in only glances and feelings. Strangely, it was the most comfortable Kira had felt in another person's presence in… she couldn’t remember how long.

Still, the aura of Sya’s emotions lingered in the air. With her practiced skill in psychic magic, Kira was always aware of people’s emotions—more so than most. Sya’s emotions were spreading through the air like ripples across still water. Now, as her magic subtly reached out, she felt the pulse of Sya’s inner turmoil. It wasn’t intentional, more of a natural reflex she couldn’t quite turn off anymore, but it was uncomfortable to sit in. She caught herself tensing beneath the water, her fingers holding her knees closer to her chest as she considered retreating from the pressure of it. But Orion’s presence, steady and calm, balanced out the atmosphere, grounding her and easing the tension. Without him, she would have excused herself much earlier, escaping the feelings she didn’t know how to deal with. Isolating again, despite the way it only brought her sorrow.

As Orion took the wine bottle from her hand, Kira's gaze lingered on him for a moment, her thoughts shifting away from Sya’s emotional weight. A playful spark lit in her amber eyes, her usual guarded demeanor easing just a fraction.

“You sure the Prince is going to be okay without you watching over him 24/7?” she asked, her tone teasing. She wasn’t just poking fun, however, she was gently prying for more information about the inner workings of their relationship. The Prince had always seemed to hold a unique aura of his own, an enigmatic blend of authority and restraint, but it was clear that Orion played an integral part in the Prince’s life, more than just as an advisor.

---

_{Interactions: Orion @Qia, Sya @PrinceAlexus}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Inside Eye of the Beholder

Eris watched as Daphne appeared, her uniquely violet eyes set confidently on Nathaniel. The tall brunette woman had been the same person who stopped her earlier to talk about Sya. Eris furrowed her brow, wondering why Daphne was inserting herself, and even more curiously, why she had asked Nathaniel for a dance. Did they know each other? Eris's gaze flickered toward Nathaniel, searching for any sign of familiarity or warmth, but his expression revealed little.

When he leaned in to whisper his apology, Eris smiled softly and nodded, understanding the unspoken rules of noble decorum. A lady's request for a dance could not be easily refused, and Nathaniel was only being polite. Still, a small pang of something stirred inside her. Maybe she should have asked him for another dance before Daphne had stepped in. She pushed the feeling down quickly, shaking off the flicker of jealousy. This wasn’t the time for such things.

As Nathaniel rose and joined Daphne on the dance floor, Eris averted her gaze and pulled her coat around her shoulders. She stared into her mug of mead, feeling the weight of the drink in her hands. She toyed with the idea of leaving—returning to her notes, preparing for the upcoming journey to the Blight Lands. That was where her focus should be, not here, not watching Nathaniel dance with another woman.

She bit her lower lip anxiously, battling her instinct to leave, her eyes eventually wandering back to the pair. Daphne moved with ease despite her leather armor, her confidence evident in every step, and Eris felt a sting of envy. Daphne had no hesitation in asking for what she wanted, no second thoughts, while Eris had hesitated.

She sighed softly, her mind drifting back to the conversation about Sya. The guilt crept in as she took another sip of mead, feeling the alcohol warming her cheeks. She scanned the crowd, hoping to catch sight of her friend, but Sya was still nowhere to be found. Even though Sya’s transformation unsettled her, it didn’t excuse how she had reacted. She should have kept her composure. Her brother would have never let such emotions slip. She grimaced at the thought, taking another large gulp of her drink.

Returning her focus to Nathaniel and Daphne, Eris watched as he spun Daphne with the same practiced grace and charm he had shown to her earlier. She couldn't help but question the butterflies she’d felt during their dance—was she really so touch-starved that she had feigned some kind of spark between them? Perhaps she had been foolish and naive to think anything of it. No doubt Nathaniel had been trained in the art of charm, raised to be effortlessly charismatic. It wasn’t personal, was it? Yet, as she studied his face now, something told her that it wasn’t quite the same. To her, he didn’t look as comfortable as he had when they had danced. He didn’t wear the same ease or warmth that she had seen when they had been so close.

But feelings were impractical, especially in a time like this. In fact, why did she even care? Eris raised her tankard again, taking a long drink to drown the thoughts swirling in her mind. There were more important things to focus on—things that mattered far more than the butterflies still lingering in her chest.

Eris glanced down at the notes neatly stacked on the table, her mind still half-distracted by the dance happening across the room. With a small sigh, she finished off the rest of her drink and gently set the mug down on the table. One by one, she gathered her notes and folded the papers with careful precision before sliding them into the inner pocket of her coat. Somehow, the weight of them felt heavier now, like a reminder of the responsibilities she had been avoiding during this fleeting moment of social distraction.

Pulling the coat tighter around herself, she stood up from the booth, glancing briefly toward Nathaniel and Daphne still entwined in their dance. The soft music carried on, but Eris no longer felt part of it. Duty called. It was time to go.

---

_{Interactions: Daphne @PrinceAlexus, Nathaniel @Echotech71}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Behind the Eye of the Beholder

Cautiously, Flynn scanned the area outside, his eyes darting to the shadows beneath the inn’s roof and the thick forest behind the tavern. The back of the tavern was still, barely touched by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the trees. The distant murmur of the tavern patrons inside could be heard, but otherwise it was quiet, with no sign of anyone nearby. The absence of torchlight made it feel as if they were hidden from the world. Untouched snow drifts surrounded the area, creating a makeshift barrier between them and the rest of town. They were alone, for now.

His gaze shifted to Nyla, his chest tight, words trapped in his throat. Silence hung heavily in the air between them as they stared at one another. The pain in their expressions mirrored one another, a shared grief they both recognized but couldn’t address.

After a moment, without thinking, Flynn stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his chest with a sudden, desperate need. For a brief moment, Nyla froze, startled, but then she melted into him, pressing her face into the warmth of his chest, her arms slipping around his back. His heartbeat thrummed against her ear.

His scent, the solidness of his body against hers, the rise and fall of his breath—it all felt so familiar, and for just a moment, she let herself linger there. She closed her eyes, listening to the beat of his heart, but the longer she listened, the more she realized that the comfort it once brought her was gone.

This spot she once claimed didn’t belong to her anymore. His heart, the one she had once thought she could call her own, was no longer hers. Truly, it had never been. She had known that from the start, and had even told him so. Yet, despite all her efforts to guard herself, she had gone against her own better judgment, letting herself hope for something that was never meant to be. And now, standing here in his arms, she realized it had always been foolish. A naive desire.

Flynn rested his chin atop her head, holding her as she nestled closer to his chest. He closed his eyes, a deep ache settling in his heart as he allowed himself to savor the feeling of her in his arms once again—but only for a moment.

His jaw clenched and pain etched into his features, Flynn finally forced himself to pull away. His arms slipped from around her, and he took a step back, creating distance between them that he knew he needed to.

Nyla opened her eyes, the cold rushing back to fill the void where his warmth had been. She looked up at him, unsure, her breath uneven. His frown deepened as he met her gaze, regret and confusion battling inside him. After a moment of silence, he finally broke it, his voice low. "Why are you here, Nyla?"

Nyla’s gaze dropped to the snow, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Flynn. I know I shouldn’t be...” Her quiet voice wavered, as if she were unsure whether or not to admit the truth. She stared down at her boots covered in snow, the chill beginning to seep into her bones again. She knew what she should say, but the words seemed too heavy to speak.

“I didn’t have any other choice.” she whispered, her voice barely carrying in the stillness. When she finally looked up, Flynn’s expression was filled with confusion, his brow furrowed as he searched her face for answers.

She took a deep breath, as though preparing herself, and in that moment, the illusion she had been holding onto began to fade. Sparkles of golden dust fluttered around her, shimmering in the moonlight. Flynn blinked, watching in awe as her true form emerged—the black horns crowning her head, the sharp, elven-like ears, her skin glowing faintly with a golden, glittering hue beneath the surface. Monarch butterfly wings unfolded on her back, a vivid burst of orange and black, fluttering ever so gently.

Flynn’s face registered shock, confusion—but not fear. He didn’t recoil from her, as she had half-expected. “What happened?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

She sighed, recalling her failings. “I... I tried to find my family after you left,” she confessed, her voice tinged with regret. “The nomads… I thought I could find a place with them again, but...” She shook her head as if trying to shake off the memory. “Well, this was the result.”

Nyla’s chest tightened as she stared at him. She could feel the flicker of the creature inside her stir, an ancient hunger urging her to call out his soul. Flynn—his ever-caring, patient, kind, strong and yet gentle soul—one of the best she had ever known. For a moment, her instincts clawed at her, the temptation whispering inside her mind. His soul probably tasted so sweet.

But she shoved the feeling down, hard. She refused to feed that hunger, refusing to even entertain the thought. She wouldn’t feed on him, not even consider it. Not him. Never him.

Flynn’s heart sank as he looked at Nyla’s new form. Guilt gnawed at him, clawing its way into his chest as if this was all somehow his fault. He couldn’t help but trace the lines of cause and effect, connecting the events that had shattered their lives. The clergy—their twisted prophecies and manipulations—had torn everything apart. They had stolen his life, Amaya’s life, and Nyla’s too. A terrible, cruel domino effect.

Anger simmered beneath the surface, a quiet but burning rage aimed at the clergy who had taken so much from them. Yet, as his gaze settled on Nyla, the anger was smothered by the ache he felt for her. All he wanted to do was take her pain away, to undo the damage that had been done. But there was no undoing it. Only the harsh reality of what they both now faced.

Flynn exhaled a long, weary sigh. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine…” He paused, struggling to find the right words. “You’ll be safe here, you don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure of it.”

He saw a flicker of relief in her eyes, but Flynn hesitated, the next words lodged in his throat like a stone. He tried to say it, to tell her that they could no longer be what they once were, but the words tangled, slipping through his grasp.

“But, I… We…” His voice faltered, stumbling over the words. “We can’t—”

They stood there in the silence, their eyes locking, the unspoken truth settling between them. He didn’t have to finish, they both knew. The message was clear, as painful as it was. The life they once shared, the bond they once had—it was dead. They walked different paths now.

He felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he fumbled for the words he couldn’t say. But Nyla understood. Her expression softened, a quiet understanding as she simply nodded. She had always known, deep down, that this moment would come. But knowing didn’t make it any easier.

“I know.” she whispered, a faint empathetic smile on her lips. “We both knew a long time ago, didn’t we?”

Flynn frowned, hating that she had been right all along. He wished he could say more, but there were no words that could make this right. So instead, he just stood there, fighting off the urge to take her in his arms and disappear into the woods. To kiss her like she was the only thing that mattered. To damn the world and live their lives as freely as they could before it all ended.

Unfortunately, he had always been a man driven by duty and responsibility.

Clearing his throat, Flynn took another step back from Nyla, widening the physical distance between them as if afraid to trust himself any closer. The space between them felt like a chasm, growing wider with each second. "There are homes... ones that have been built. You can take whichever empty one you like." he said, his voice quiet but steady. His eyes flicked toward the door that led back into the warmth of the tavern, needing something else to focus on.

"And,” he hesitated, the words feeling strange on his tongue now that they were meant for someone so close to him. “Well, there's a process we follow. Each blight-born undergoes an interview..." He looked at her again, trying to gauge her reaction. “My advisor and I will assign you a place in town to help out.”

As he spoke, he could feel the shift happening inside himself. Compartmentalizing—separating his personal feelings from his duties. It felt less like a choice and more like a survival instinct. He felt himself slipping into his Princely role, distancing himself from her, as if to shield himself from the ache that threatened to tear him apart. It was like watching it happen from outside his own body, something he had to do just to continue on.

Nyla nodded quietly, her face not betraying much. She could feel the shift too, the emotional distance widening between them. She tried to mirror it, pulling back, withdrawing into herself. A few more flickers of glowing fairy dust shimmered around her as her form gradually changed. Her human form returned, the one she preferred, the one she felt safer in—unseen, unnoticed by strangers who might pity her for what she had become.

The silence between them grew heavy, awkward. Flynn glanced at the tavern door, then down the snow-covered path that wound around to the front of the building. He didn’t want to return through the tavern, didn’t want to face the curious eyes inside after everything that had just happened.

“I… I’ll see you soon. For the interview.” he said quietly, both knowing full well that they couldn’t leave together—it would only raise questions.

He turned without waiting for a response, pushing his way through the snow, the crunch of his boots muffled in the thick white drifts. His mind raced as he pushed through the snow that reached up to his knees, not daring to look back.

Nyla stood there for a long moment, watching him disappear around the corner. It felt like something had been torn out of her, leaving a gaping wound. She understood why, but that didn’t make it any easier. With a sigh, she shook off the feeling as best she could and re-entered the tavern. She traced their steps back to the common room, the warmth and noise greeting her, though it did little to soothe the ache inside. She had never been one to dull her problems with alcohol, but today was different. She needed something to dull all this pain, so she headed straight for the bar.

Flynn rounded the corner of the tavern, his steps heavy as he trudged through the thick snow, feeling it cling to his pants and boots, the cold seeping through to his skin. He could still feel the faint warmth of Nyla’s presence, the echo of their conversation ringing in his ears. He hadn’t wanted it to end like this, but it had to. It had to.

As he neared the front of the building, his heart sank at the sight waiting for him.

Amaya stood with a group of people gathered around a dark-haired man who seemed to be in distress. Their concerned murmurs filled the air, and the tension was palpable. Flynn’s stomach twisted, but not out of concern for the man on the ground. No, it was the sinking realization that he was going to have to talk to Amaya about Nyla, about everything.

His chest tightened as his pace slowed and he watched her, her face painted with worry for the stranger. Guilt creeped into the edges of his thoughts.