The Muse

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Northwestern Watchtower

Eris stood frozen, her breath shallow as she strained to hear the muffled voices coming from the watchtower above. The first voice, a woman's, was unfamiliar, but the second, a man's voice, carried with it a distinct, rough edge that she recognized immediately.

Elio, the town’s mason. A man built like the stone he carved.

Her interactions with him had always been brief, but every single one of those had made her feel...flustered. It wasn’t just his towering stature or the way he dominated every space he entered. It was the way he seemed to enjoy making her uncomfortable. As if he took pleasure in watching her squirm.

Her hand rose to her chest, fingers trembling as she pressed them against her racing heart. Her feet still wouldn’t move. Couldn’t move.

She watched as Elio approached Aliseth with an intensity that sent a wave of dread through her. The look in his eyes was different than any expression she'd ever seen on him before—dark, cold. She bit her lower lip as Elio tapped his fingers against Alisesth’s head, her heart suddenly feeling as if it had stopped.

For a second, her mind raced. The Princess had gone missing on Aliseth's watch? It wasn't just his friend who had been involved in this? But then Elio met her eyes. She held her breath, unable to tear her eyes away.

Then, without warning, Aliseth struck. The punch landed squarely on Elio’s jaw, and Eris gasped, her eyes widening.

The shock jolted her out of her frozen state, and before she could even think, her body moved forward without hesitation, instinctively falling into the role she had played all her life—the peacekeeper.

Her magic surged to life like a sudden storm, coiling around her fingers, rippling outward in a sudden, chaotic rush. The wind bent to her command, swirling around her hands, lifting snow in wild, twisting spirals.

A burst of air slammed into both men, pressing against their chests, not with violence, but with undeniable force. It held them upright, driving them backwards and sending them sliding several feet across the snow-covered ground. They remained on their feet, but separated, the path between them fully cleared of snow by Eris’ intervention.

She stood between them now, breathless, palms raised to both of them. Her heart thudded against her chest, wild and erratic, but her voice cut through the chaos with surprising clarity.

“Stop this!" she pleaded, her eyes locking onto Aliseth’s. She could feel the pulse of her magic still flowing through her fingers, though the air that had wrapped around the two men had subsided.

“Please,” she continued, her gaze softening slightly as she searched his eyes. Where had the man gone that had been so kind to her? “There’s no need for this…”

She lowered her hands, turning her body to fully face the guard who had been both her savior and her captor only moments ago. “We should be working together,” she added quietly. ”For your friend… right?”

She took a small step towards him, her gaze unwavering. “Please, just…” She paused for a breath, trying to calm her unsteady heart. “Just take me back to the royal residence.”

Only slightly trembling, she reached out a delicate hand towards him. “Please, Aliseth?” she whispered, her hand hovering in the air, waiting, offering him the connection once more.

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth @Dark Light, Elio @c3p-0h, Charlotte @SpicyMeatball}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Northwestern Residential Area

The closer Elara and Eris drew to the royal estate, the thicker the guard presence became. Kira slowed her pace before eventually stopping altogether, unwilling to get caught up in their increasing activity. Pulling up her hood, she melted into the shadows of the treeline, trying to keep out of view. She had no interest in lingering near the royals’ home, but she remained long enough to watch Elara slip inside with the Sage—long enough to ensure nothing else lurking in the dark took notice of her first.

Only then did she shift, moving into the quiet residential streets to position herself on the opposite side of the estate.

Leaning against a tree near a flickering torchlight, Kira settled into her post. Hidden in plain sight, she made no effort to conceal herself—simply another figure taking a rest in the cold. She watched the guards fan out in disciplined patterns, carving paths through the deep snow, and lighting the edge of the forest with lanterns that sent shadows scattering. It was an impressive display of order, but one Kira had no interest in being part of. Not anymore, anyway.

Snow gathered atop her hood as time stretched on, layering itself over her as she stood motionless. Her breath remained slow, steady, visible in the frigid air.

After some time, she saw the Sage re-emerge in a rush. Kira tracked Eris' movements as she rushed toward the town square, her urgency plain. For a moment, curiosity tugged at her. Whatever was happening beyond the estate’s walls had set Eris moving with uncommon speed. But she let it pass, remaining in place, content to let Hightower reach her destination alone.

After a few minutes, the sharp sound of three alarm bells pierced through the still night air. A warning. A summons to find shelter.

Kira wrinkled her nose in distaste. The sound was a clear sign that she should probably get inside—lest the guards take notice of her lingering presence and start asking questions. The thought of being interrogated was a mild nuisance at best, but there was another thought, darker and more primal. ‘And if they came alone?’

An easy snack. A chance to satisfy the thing stirring, irritated, beneath her skin.

She shoved the thought down before it could take hold. Instead, her gaze remained locked on the royal residence in the distance. Something rooted her here, something far less dismissible than idle curiosity. Instinct. Hunger.

She had let her meal slip into that home, and though she had no intention of acting on the impulse, the knowledge of it held her in place. The predator inside was still awake, still aware, waiting to see if its prey would return into the night. Patient as ever.

Time continued its slow, steady march, and Kira remained, still as a statue. She watched not only the estate, but everything. She tracked the guards movements, the paths they created, the orders they followed. With every passing second, she committed their routes to memory—not out of necessity, but habit.

Hearing movement, her eyes flicked to her right. A guard, trudging through the snow, pulling someone along by the hand. Kira focused, narrowing her gaze. It took only a second to recognize the figure in his grip. Lady Hightower, returning not longer after she had gone.

Her brow lifted slightly. Eris’ heart was hammering in her chest, an anxious rhythm that carried across the snow. Odd. The Sage had always been skittish in Kira’s presence, but never like this.

‘Something’s wrong.’

Kira didn’t move, didn’t reveal herself—just observed, quiet as the shadows themselves.

The guard released the Sage once they reached a watchtower, stepping away and leaving her behind. But Eris didn’t move. Didn’t run. Yet, Kira could still hear her heart pounding frantically.

Her fingers twitched at her side, but her attention split the moment she heard a door open.

Her head snapped toward the royal residence. Elara.

Kira’s brows pulled together. She hadn’t been inside long, and yet there she was again, stepping back into the night. Kira tilted her head slightly, watching as Elara seemingly dismissed her guards.

A slow, disappointed exhale left her lips. Sending them away was foolish.

The predator stirred, unfurling like a shadow across her mind. Malicious excitement poured into the hollows of her chest, filling all the empty space that Elara had carved.

Her entire nervous system sparked to life, but Kira remained unmoving, almost afraid to take a single step away from the base of the tree.

Her gaze darted between the two situations before her. Eris and the guard. Elara and the darkened path leading away from the royal estate.

Her eyes found Elara once more. Pupils dilated. She took a step forward.

“Oy, you heard the bell?”

Kira went still, a sharp spike of anger cutting through her. Slowly, she turned, her fiery gaze locking onto the guard who had dared to interrupt her. She said nothing, only seared him with a glare that she wished could have reduced him to cinders.

“Get inside. That’s what it means. What you hanging ‘round for then?”

---

_{Mentions: Elara @Qia, Aliseth @Dark Light}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Dawnhaven's Best

---

_{Location: Town Square > Temple of Aelios}

---

Torchlight flickered across the snow-dusted streets as two Lunarian guards made their way through town, their breath curling into the cold night air. Their pace was leisurely—neither particularly concerned with the so-called "threat" that had locked the town down, nor the orders that had been given to them.

The taller of the two, a grizzled veteran with silver streaking through his dark hair, cast a glance at his younger companion.

"You catch a look at that little thing beside Kain?" he muttered, a smirk tugging at his chapped lips. “Big blue eyes, all quiet-like.” His grin widened as he elbowed the younger guard. “Wouldn’t mind keeping her warm tonight, aye?”

The younger guard, with dirty blonde hair and dark eyes, chuckled and shot the other guard a sidelong glance. "Yeah, that little thing happens to be Lady Hightower. You know, the lead Sage?"

The older man blinked. “No shit?”

“No shit.” The blonde nodded, a smug look passing over his features. “I get posted at the Alchemy Chambers pretty often.”

“Hm.” A beat of silence passed as the veteran considered this new information.

“What’s she doing with the likes of Kain?” he finally asked, his brow furrowing for a brief moment before softening with another playful smile. “You think she’s got a stick up ‘er ass like the rest of them Aurelians?”

“Probably,” the younger guard replied with a chuckle. “And speaking of—you should watch your mouth. If one of those uptight bastards overheard you talking like that, you’d be cleaning stables.”

The veteran barked a laugh. “Hah! Like they don’t think the same about their Sage.”

They both shared a laugh, boots crunching through the snow as they trudged on toward the temple of Aelios. The town was eerily quiet under the emergency order, the usual bustling streets emptied, doors barred shut.

"Y'know," the older guard mused, kicking at a chunk of frozen slush, "I don’t see what the fuss is about. If there really was some blight-born freak running around, they’d have bolted by now. What kind of attacker sticks around after that?”

“Only if they’re an idiot,” the younger one quipped.

"Exactly! Hope they call this off soon,” the veteran grumbled. “I’d rather not freeze my ass off all night."

They muttered complaints all the way to the temple, the towering structure looming over them. Steam curled into the air from behind the building, catching in the moonlight—a sign of the hot springs beyond.

Their boots clanked against the stone steps as they ascended, the warm glow of firelight shimmered behind one of the windows. A silhouette moved against it—unmistakably adorned with horns.

Both guards slowed their steps, exchanging a wary glance.

“Think that’s her?” the younger one murmured.

“Hope not.”

Reaching the temple doors, the older guard pressed a hand against the wood and gave it a firm push. It didn’t budge. They frowned, then the younger guard knocked against the wood.

Their gaze shifted to the window as they noticed movement. The shadow in the window shifted, and for a brief moment, they saw a pair of bright eyes peer out at them through the window before vanishing. A second later, the heavy thunk of a lock was turned on the other side.

As the door opened, both men stiffened at the sight. A woman clad in the flowing robes of a priestess—golden-haired, violet-eyed, with horns and a long, slender tail swaying idly behind her.

For a moment, neither spoke. Then, with a deep breath, the younger guard recovered first and cleared his throat, offering his best diplomatic smile.

“Greetings, Priestess,” he began, offering a very slight bow of his head to her. “We’ve been sent to escort you to the Prince and Princess. Your presence is required immediately.”

---

_{Interactions: Ranni @Queen Arya, Aurora @BlackRoseSiren, Celine @SkeankySnack}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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

Part IV

---

The room wasn’t large, and the sound of the door clicking shut wasn’t loud. Still, it seemed to echo through the space with finality. Amaya’s eyes were still locked on the other woman in the room. She brought her hands together in her lap, trying to hold onto the warmth Flynn had pressed into her.

The silence stretched between them like the distance.

“Elara…” Her name sounded as fragile as Amaya felt.

The muted thud of the door settling into place reverberated through Elara’s frame, an understated finality that carved itself into the room’s fabric, leaving behind a hollow stillness weighted with unsaid things. She didn’t move, her gaze still fixed beyond the window, though the reflection in the glass betrayed the way Amaya’s eyes never left her.

Elara’s throat constricted against the rising tide of emotion, her fingers coiling involuntarily against the windowsill. She had anticipated relief when he left, some return to the tenuous balance they had once shared. But instead, the absence only sharpened the edges of everything she had tried to push aside.

Amaya’s voice drifted across the space between them, the syllables of her name delivered soft and tentative. Elara considered ignoring it for a heartbeat—maintaining the fragile walls she had erected, letting duty speak louder than longing. But the raw sincerity embedded within that single name unspooled something tightly wound within her.

Her grip loosened on the sill, and slowly, Elara turned.

She met Amaya’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore cracked—just enough for something tender, something weary, to slip through. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced with a measured expression, cool but not unkind. The quiet inhale that followed steadied her, and when she spoke, her voice lacked the crisp austerity she had wielded so efficiently before.

“You should rest,” Elara said. “I’ll stay... if you want me to.”

The offer was cautious, tentative—a bridge extended, though not without reservations. She wouldn’t let herself fall so easily back into the role she once held, not without some assurance that she wouldn’t be cast aside again. But for now, in the quiet space between them, it was enough to let the choice be Amaya’s.

Her eyes lingered on Amaya’s hands, still curled in her lap, clutching at something unseen. And despite herself, despite the ache that hadn’t yet settled, Elara took a step closer. Not quite closing the distance, but enough to show she hadn’t entirely retreated. Not yet.

“Just for a little while,” she added, softer still.

Amaya wanted to shrink away as Elara approached. She wanted to reach for her. She wanted to hold onto that brief flicker of emotion in her friend’s eyes (her friend, she wanted her friend) and beg her to stay, just as much as she wanted Elara to leave, if only so she wouldn’t have to fear the inevitable loss anymore.

Wanting. That was always the issue, wasn’t it?

“If I want you to…” Her voice was softer, with less distance to travel between them. Her hands grew cold. “Would that be the only reason to do it?”

Elara’s lips parted, but no immediate answer came. Instead, her gaze dropped to Amaya’s hands, her fingers twitching with the impulse to reach out. But hesitation stilled her.

“I am at a loss,” she ultimately confessed, the confession seeping from her lips with an understated, poignant candour. “Would it even bear significance?” Amaya’s eyebrows pulled together, stunned that Elara had even asked.

Elara’s tone bore no trace of provocation; rather, it resonated with the fatigue of one who has surrendered so much of her essence that the demarcation between obligation and self has become indistinct.

She inhaled deeply and then lifted her gaze once more to meet Amaya’s. “I can’t be what you want me to be, Amaya. Not anymore.”

Anymore?

But despite the resignation in her tone, Elara took another small step forward, her presence lingering within reach—within an arm's reach, suffusing the space between them with warmth, should Amaya choose to dissolve the distance.

“But I can stay,” she offered again, her voice quieter, gentler, a quiet plea wrapped in something resembling hope. “If that is your desire.”

With every step Elara took, Amaya was pulled towards her, sitting up inch by inch as her body longed to close the distance — to return to what was familiar. What was safe.

“My…” The word was little more than a whisper as Amaya tried to understand, doubts and fears creeping through her like frost along a riverbank. She shook her head, a tear finally escaping her. “What have I ever desired from you, but… you?”

Amaya’s whole life had been masks and careful control. But being with Elara had felt honest. A decade of memories flashed through Amaya’s mind. Shared smiles, whispered secrets, hands gripped tightly around each other as they weathered the palace chill… Elara had made up so much of Amaya’s world, been one of the few flowers that had survived against the haunting winter storms.

…Had it been real? Had Amaya misunderstood? Had her words been so unforgivable that she’d ruined the only love she had left?

Something fractured in Amaya’s eyes as she looked at the only friend she’d ever had.

It was learning of her mother’s death and falling to pieces, because Elara wasn’t there to hold her together. It was venturing to her friend’s home for the first time after a lonely, grief-filled week apart, only to find it empty and cold. But this time it wasn’t just poor timing or happenstance – instead it was Amaya’s fault.

“Elara, I’m sorry,” she tried again, her voice breaking on the word. It escaped her in a cloud, too small and quick to grasp.

For a fleeting breath, it appeared as though Elara would remain speechless, allowing the stillness to unfurl like a gossamer veil. Yet, in the tenderest of moments, she daringly advanced, as if testing the very essence of the earth beneath her soles. Her fingers trembled, suspended within the air, tantalizingly close to Amaya yet restrained, as she drew forth an exhalation she hadn’t recognized she had kept at bay.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” she murmured, each syllable laced with an ache too profound to name. “I know you’re sorry. I know.” And yet, despite the certainty of those words, the hollowness in her chest remained, a lingering spectre that knowing alone could not exorcise. “But... I need to know if you want me here because you need me, or because you want me.” The query was laden with unresolved longing, as she finally allowed her fingertips to skim across Amaya's arm.

“If it’s just duty—if I’m merely…” Her voice faltered, and Elara swallowed against the knot rising in her throat. “If I’m just something you’re afraid of losing because it’s all you’ve ever known—” Her breath hitched, and with a subtle shake of her head, she let the unspoken words settle like dust between them. Softer now, the next words slipped out, scarcely more than a whisper,

“Then I can’t do this anymore.”

It was as if Elara had struck her. Her voice was gentle, wrapping around Amaya so carefully, but she felt the words tighten and constrict around her throat. The stark reminder of how small Amaya’s world had been – how small she was, confined to a handful of faces and the boundaries of the Moonlit Palace – was harsh, in Elara’s soft voice.

Amaya wasn’t a person. She was a doll with hollow eyes, waiting to see who would pick her up. She was a covered portrait, hidden in storage to keep her frame clean and her colors pretty. She was a shadow on the wall, silent and intangible.

She was a Princess. Not two hours ago, Elara had been the last person remaining who made Amaya feel like she could be more than that.

Amaya knew the words to say. She knew her role. She’d always been good at saying the correct thing, if only to guard herself and keep the consequences of her father’s displeasure at bay. But she’d never known how to guard herself from Elara.

They were so close – Elara’s soft fingers on her arm, her eyes clear and grieving. For a moment, she thought of other fingers – of warmth. Of holding and being held. Of wanting. Another tear slipped down Amaya’s cheek.

“I don’t think I know the difference.” The whispered confession was little more than the air shared between them now.

Stay. Please stay.

At Amaya's murmured revelation, Elara’s breath caught in her throat. Her stare melted into a tender haze. Still, her fingertips lingered upon Amaya’s arm, as if she could etch the delicate boundary between obligation and yearning within the silken warmth of her flesh.

“I know,” she said, her voice carrying with it the quiet heartbreak of someone who had spent years waiting—hoping—that Amaya might truly see her one day. “I think... I’ve always known.”

A breath, heavy with resignation, slipped past her lips as she withdrew her hand.

The chasm between them yawned open with uncanny swiftness, as if time itself had momentarily faltered - though Elara remained rooted to her spot, unyielding to the subtle yet undeniable currents that drew her apart from the inside out. Like a lotus blooming in tranquil waters, her posture adapted with an air of quiet acceptance, surrendering to the inescapable truth: she could no longer evade the role assigned to her.

“I’ll stay. As I always have,” she murmured, the words, though gentle, bearing the weight of something that had been tested by time and longing and still remained. Though her expression remained an unshaken mask, there was a shift in the depths of her gaze—a quiet transformation that could not be undone. The tender warmth that once illuminated her eyes had been tempered, subdued into something calmer, something resolute. No longer did they shimmer with unchecked devotion, freely given and rarely received; instead, they held the quiet endurance of one who had learned to guard what remained of herself.

“You should rest,” Elara intoned for the third and final time, her tone reverting to decorum that had long been forsaken in their cherished interludes.

Amaya had always known that she’d lose Elara one day, if only because she loved her. She just thought that there’d be… more to it. Her father’s oppressive presence. Screaming. A punishing grip holding her down. Something to rage against. Blood.

She had mistakenly thought that Elara would be taken, like her mother was.

She couldn’t look at – at her handmaiden. Tears flowed down her cheeks even as she tried desperately to retreat into herself. Her walls were rubble at her feet, the aftershocks sending tremors through her body. Her chin was high. Her back was straight. It all felt feeble and pointless, but Amaya didn’t know what to do but try and hide, even if she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t match Elara’s graceful composure, even if she saw the weariness and felt the pain in the shared space between them. Ten years sat between them, echoing through Amaya with every quake that shook her. The pitcher beside her had completely frozen. Frost crept across the window behind Elara. Everything about Amaya – her body, her voice, her tears, the very air that she chilled – betrayed her.

But she knew the words.

Amaya knew her role – finally.

“Thank you Elara.” The name cut Amaya from the inside out. Her voice was tattered when it left her. Small. Hollow, like her. “But I think I’d like to be alone.” It was a lie. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, to grieve, and come apart because her own shattered edges were cutting into her and bleeding her dry. And she could no longer do that with Elara.

“And I’m sure I’m not the only one who needs rest,” she whispered. It was the last gift Amaya could offer her – the opportunity to leave, and see to her own wounds that she concealed better than Amaya did hers. She didn’t know if she was pushing Elara away, or letting her go. But the difference wouldn’t matter, in the end.

“Please request an escort from the guards to see you home safely.”

Realms of Sun & Shadow

_{Collab between @Dark Light and @The Muse
Location: Town Square > Northwestern Watchtower}

---

"Hmm." He pondered her words as she spoke. Eyes still scrutinising hers as though he could see into her thoughts. "A guard, my friend, had his face eaten off by a wretched blighter." He proclaimed with a heavy hint of emotion infiltrating his tone. He knew why the damned alarm was ringing.

Eris's brows knit together, startled by the sudden edge in his voice. Her heart skipped a beat, a surge of nerves tightening in her chest.

“I… I am sorry about your friend." she said quietly, guilt overwhelming her. Elara’s gruesome story flashed through her mind. Of course it was likely that he knew the guard who had lost his life.

He takes a breath and calms himself, dropping his gaze. "I'm sorry, No. What has happened to the Princess? If urgency is an issue, speak quick."

“She was involved in the attack and needs a skilled healer.” Eris said softly, suddenly feeling so very small and powerless beside him.

"She is injured!?" He asks sharply with a hint of surprise. Eris silently nodded in response, biting her lower lip nervously.

His lips press together and he nods knowingly. "I, royal guard Aliseth Kain, would not risk you another step more than is necessary. If you truly value urgency then allow me to take you back now and send multiple guards in your place. It is safer for them, and they will move more quickly."

Eris pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to argue against his suggestion. Logically, she knew he was right. It would be safer to send guards in her stead. And yet, she felt conflicted. Was it not her duty to handle this? To fix this? She had told the Prince she would go and yet…

Lifting his gaze, Aliseth tilted his head to catch her eyes face to face. With an ever-gentle hand he placed it on her shoulder, offering a gesture of comfort and promises, whilst also subtly redirecting her to face back the way from where she came. The heat in Eris’s cheeks rose, unable to do anything but move with him when he turned her.

"Besides, you are after all, exactly the sort that these vile monsters would pursue and take advantage of. It would be too great a loss to us all if the blighted beast return, swooping down from the sky and stole you away. Please, obey the curfew, leave this for those trained and simply let me take you home."

Eris blinked a few times, her gaze following the path she had just traveled. “Well, I…” the words caught in her throat, worry reflected in her eyes. The firmness of his hand on her shoulder freezing her in place.

After a moment, she shifted her weight, looking up at him again from under her hood. She searched his eyes, hoping to find reassurance in his calm confidence. Turning back felt like failure. How could she return empty handed? Would the Prince understand?

“Can I… can I at least accompany you to relay the message to the other guards?”

"You may." He offered firmly with a warm voice and soft smile. A rush of relief—or was it excitement?—swept through her. This, at least, felt like a small victory.

"You can stay by my side until you are satisfied that the Prince’s order will be carried out in full, now let us begin." He nods down the road to where he could see some other guards slowly moving about in torchlight trying to appear busy.

Exhaling softly, she fell into step beside him. “Thank you, Aliseth Kain.” she said, glancing up at him and offering a warm smile before shifting her gaze to the flickering torches ahead. “You are very kind.”

He gave no words of reply, the faint hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he began walking through the snow towards the guards. With Eris by his side, his steps were purposeful and stride fair paced. "I commend your bravery Lady hightower." He offered without turning his head or diverting his gaze. "They are lucky to have someone like you in their circle."

Eris glanced up at him, surprised. She felt anything but brave. “I—” she paused, pulling her gaze away and swallowing the urge to disagree. “Thank you.” she said instead, uncertainty creeping in. It wouldn’t do for her to belittle her own status, even if she felt that people tended to be more unlucky with her around.

As they neared the guards, Eris slowed her pace and kept close to Aliseth. Although she knew little of him, it felt safer to be near him while in the midst of total strangers (men)—most of whom appeared weathered and like they’d rather be anywhere else but here. She glanced up at him nervously, hoping he’d take the lead.

With a gentle touch he paused her movement as he took a final firm step forward toward the guards. "Attention." He called sharply, allowing a hint of anger into his raised tone. His eyes deliberately scrutinized the poor form and posture of the guards before him. He showed obvious impatience as he waited for the proper attention. Eris stood motionless, her gaze fixed on him, captivated by the way he effortlessly commanded the group.

One by one, they fell into line, their focus wholly on Aliseth. With firm authority Aliseth relayed their new priority orders. The task of finding the priestess and accompanying her to the royals home with utmost urgency. Of the three men, he directed two to the new task and one to remain at his post to update his superiors and watch the street.

"It’s ok, we will send more men." he offered Eris softly as he stepped back beside her. "The next can search any other areas she may be. They will find her." Eris smiled, feeling reassured. “Thank you again.”

Moving on suddenly, with the haste and urgency Eris had shown earlier, Aliseth almost left her behind. Reaching back he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her beside himself. Eris let out a small squeak of surprise, stumbling slightly into him. She grasped his hand instinctively to steady herself, but allowed him to pull her forward, her heart racing as she hurried to match his pace.

For some time, Aliseth moved without talking, continuing to lead the way while maintaining his grip on Eris’s hand. The sage remained quiet, completely lost in her own mind. Frozen.

As they entered the residential area, his eyes flicked up to a nearby watch tower, noticing the dance of shadows within and the softest hint of conversation escaping it. He let out a soft little growl as whoever was in there didn’t seem to be doing much watching.

"There." he said to Eris as he gave a slight nod to the tower. "We will send them too." With that he released her hand and started to make his way to the wooden structures base.

Eris stood still, suddenly aware that her heart had been pounding against her chest the entire walk. She blinked, her eyes trailing up at the watchtower as Aliseth stormed away. What was she doing here?

The walk had passed in a blur, like she was detached from the world around her. Her eyes flicked back towards Aliseth, processing what had just happened—the slightly painful grip he had on her, the tense silence, the sternness in his tone, his general aura of irritation. Her heart sped up again and she shoved her hands into her coat pockets, clutching Tia’s hairpins for comfort.

Aliseth shifted so fluidly between kindness and anger. It reminded her of her father. A sharp pang went through her chest.

Taking a steadying breath, she glanced around, wondering if she should leave. For the moment, Aliseth’s focus had been pulled from her and he seemed enraptured by whoever was inside the tower.

He had likely wanted her to follow, but…

She bit her lower lip and focused her gaze on the royal residence in the distance, lit like a beacon by torchlight and guards patrolling outside. It was only a short walk away.

She could make it before he returned…

---

_{Interactions: Elio @c3p-0h, Charlotte @SpicyMeatball}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Town Square

Eris hesitated, her lips parting, then closing again as her mind raced. He didn’t recognize her? She was Dawnhaven’s Lead Sage, her name carried weight in both Aurelia and Lunaris—or at least, she had believed it did. Yet here he was, oblivious to her identity, and worse, seemingly unaware of why the Prince and Princess would need immediate attention.

‘How could he not know? Hasn’t he been informed?’

A frown formed on her lips, her heart sinking as the realization struck: he didn’t recognize her name, her status, or the urgency of the situation.

Her eyes narrowed slightly for just a moment, suspicion flashing through her thoughts. Was he mocking her? Testing her? He was Lunarian, after all, and Aurelian-Lunarian tensions were hardly a secret. Though he had been polite, what if he was stalling on purpose, using her desperation against her? The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Why hadn’t Aelios sent her an Aurelian guard?

“I…” she stammered, her voice unsteady, “I don’t… have proof. I wasn’t expecting to need it.” Her cheeks flushed pink, a mixture of embarrassment from the compliments he had laid on and the growing nerves she couldn’t suppress.

“Surely you’ve heard about the Princess? Isn’t… isn’t that why the town is on lockdown?” her eyes glanced behind him, into the town square where other guards shuffled people into shelter. “That’s why I—why I’m here.” she returned her gaze to him, meeting his calm brown eyes. “She needs the Priestess. It can’t wait.”

Her voice softened, almost breaking, as she added, “Please, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t be out here if it weren’t crucial.” She paused, her mind racing for some way to sway him.

“I assure you,” she began again, her tone shifting in a final attempt to convince him, “If you help me, I’ll be sure to mention you by name to the Prince and Princess so they know who assisted in their time of need.” She bit her lip nervously, searching his face for any sign of agreement.

“What may I call you?”

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth @Dark Light}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Town Square

Eris froze in her tracks, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. A shiver coursed through her as her breath hitched, her hood falling back slightly as she turned toward the voice. Her blue eyes locked on the man approaching—his measured stride, the glint of dark Lunarian armor in the moonlight.

‘A guard! Aelios, you’ve answered my prayer.’

Relief surged through her like a wave, the sharp edges of her fear softening. Surely, with him here, she’d be safer.

“I— Oh, Goddess Above, I’m so glad to see you,” she said, her voice trembling as the words spilled out in a rush. “I’m Eris Hightower, Lead Sage. I need to get to the temple. It’s urgent, for the Prince and Princess. I have to bring the Priestess back to their residence and… ” she paused, drawing in a shaky breath to try and steady her nerves.

“It’s awfully dark and with the bells tolling, and the…the attack that happened…” she trailed off, frowning. “Would you... Could you assist me?” she asked, looking up into his dark eyes, her own filled with desperation. “An escort to the temple and back to the royal residence would be greatly appreciated. Please, if you could be so kind?”

Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, the fear she tried to suppress bleeding through. She gripped her coat a little tighter, her thoughts racing. Having the guard beside her would set her at ease. He was a protector. Trained for this type of thing. He would know what to do if a feral blight-born emerged from the shadows, wouldn’t he?

She held his gaze pleadingly, silently praying that he would agree.

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth @Dark Light}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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

Part II

---

Ivor moved through the trees and the brush. “Should not be much longer now.” The trio had made their way from town, Ivor leading the way ahead, or more aptly retracing his own footsteps. It was unusual for a hunter to return to the same grounds he’d stayed at so soon after leaving it. It was fortunate then that both his and the doctor’s footsteps were walking in tandem just earlier that day. How much time had even passed? The lack of sun made it difficult to tell the ‘when of the day’ anymore, but even he surmised it must have been an hour or so since their group left Dawnhaven. The time was spent idly chatting with Zeph, eager and opportunistic, he reminded him of Ivor in his youth rising up as ‘son of the chief’. It made Ivor a bit nostalgic for that old village life, how the people depended on him to get through the good and the bad. This was his life now, and now these people needed him to lead them to where the crystals were, “It was best time for Dr. Ceiling to be finding me, I was just coming out of cave as she was nearing where I was- ah! Jabool!” Ivor pushed forward, his arm outstretched to move a thicket of brush and reveal the mouth of the cave. It was still fresh with the work he and Celine did to clear away the snow. “Welcome, to crystal cave!”

Zeph stepped out from the brush and paused at the edge of a rocky shoreline, taking in the scene. The cave’s mouth was wide and dark, a shadow framed by snow-covered terrain and bordered by a small, icy lake. Frost crept across its edges, giving it a still, eerie beauty. Zeph hadn’t even known this lake existed, tucked between the mountains behind Frostmoon Lake.

The cave itself seemed ordinary enough—no glowing crystals or shimmering lights to suggest something magical or otherworldly. Just a cold, dark mouth that swallowed up all traces of moonlight. If Ivor hadn’t pointed it out, he might’ve easily missed it altogether.

Zeph squinted at the entrance, a skeptical look on his face. Crystals? He hadn’t seen anything that looked remotely special, but he wasn’t about to question Ivor’s judgement. At least he wasn’t stuck in another stuffy room. The crisp mountain air felt refreshing, despite the bitter cold.

His boots crunched against the snow as he stepped closer to the cave, assessing the shoreline. A small stream snaked from the cave mouth toward the lake, forming a barrier between them and the entrance—shallow, but wide enough to pose a challenge. The terrain was rocky and slick with patches of ice, the kind that didn’t forgive a single misstep.

He paused for a moment, securing an oil lamp to his hip before carefully navigating the rocks jutting out of the water, his balance steady as he hopped across them with ease. When he reached the other side, he turned back toward Tia, watching as she approached the water’s edge.

“Careful.” he reached a hand out toward her, offering it in an unspoken promise to steady her if she needed it. “Wouldn’t want you taking a dip.” he teased, a faint smile on his lips.

Tia blinked, her eyes focusing on Zeph as she seemed to come back to herself. She’d spent the entire trek in (predictable) silence, her mind quieting as they’d journeyed. Though her breath clouded in front of her, and her hands trembled, she didn’t notice the cold. The men’s chatter had seemed to fade away.

She’d been lost in herself as they’d traveled, small things capturing her attention and pulling her further and further away from the surface. The night sky above her was littered with light. Stars flowed across her vision, illuminating the darkness with a river of color. Aquamarine, pearl, emerald, lavender. Tia moved automatically over gnarled roots — around the glistening surface of a lake — to a shadowed pit carved into the side of a mountain, as deep and fathomless as the sky.

She looked at the stream that separated her from the cave.

As clarity returned, so too did the chaotic buzz of reality. She was suddenly aware that her feet hurt. Her hands were cold. She wasn’t very good at jumping. Tia looked back up at Zeph and his outstretched hand, as a tremulous little cloud escaped her lips. She tried to steady herself, taking in a determined breath.

Picking her way across the same path Zeph had taken, Tia took each step slowly. She wasn’t used to slick ice and crunching snow, let alone trying to do anything remotely athletic while wearing her thick winter robes. Her gaze found the water again, calm but frigid. Just one more step until she reached the other side – it was a wider distance than the rest of the journey had been. She looked between Ivor and Zeph for reassurance. Her eyes found the guard’s hand again, and his amused expression. He curled his fingers twice, beckoning. Tia jumped.

Her legs couldn’t stretch much, confined as they were by her robes, but still her foot managed to find the edge of the riverbank – coated in ice.

Tia let out a short chirp as her balance faltered. A hand shot toward Zeph’s as her eyes went wide.

He caught her hand with lightning reflexes, fingers curling firmly around hers as his other hand instinctively found her waist, steadying her as she started to fall.

“Tsk,” he clicked his tongue, holding her in a dipped position with an amused smile. “If you wanted me to sweep you off your feet, Firefly, you could’ve just said so.” he chuckled, low and warm, before slowly straightening her back onto her feet. His hand lingered at her waist for a brief moment, ensuring she was steady before releasing her.

Tia might’ve actually preferred the water. Maybe then she would’ve turned into a block of ice incapable of feeling this absolute burning mortification. It wasn’t too late, she reasoned. She could dive in right now.

She couldn’t quite meet his eyes as she gave him a halting bow in thanks. Then, desperate for anything else to focus on, Tia looked up to Ivor. He was blight-born. Did his night-vision mean he could see the red painting her cheeks? She tried not to think about it. Looking up at the man, Tia held an open palm out towards the depths of the cave – an invitation to lead them. Hopefully he’d start talking, and his booming voice would block out the sound of Zeph’s laugh echoing in her head.

Ivor watched the whole exchange with a rather cheeky grin, “Ahhh, to be young again,” the blightborn mused in his native tongue. Once the two were safely across he crouched, then sprung up, legs propelling him from the ground as he bridged the gap. A magnificent leap that shook the earth upon his landing. Tia was very proud of herself when she didn’t fall over – though it was a near thing. “That was great catch you did; happy everyone safe.” He nodded in reassurance and upon Tia’s invitation, waved his arm in a follow motion as he led the trio into the mouth of the cavern.

Tia followed, Zeph close behind, and her embarrassment faded away the further into the cave they traveled. Her attention drifted. The voices grew muffled again. The chill less sharp. Step by step, she walked. The darkness swallowed her. It consumed her with its inescapable gravity, pulling her deeper.

Inside, snow was scattered all over the floor from where Ivor had been digging earlier, stalagmites and stalactites littered the floor and ceiling. Ivor entered into a natural pathway carved through the rock, wide enough that even the giant had little difficulty traversing the corridor. “Before the blizzard, Ivor was out hunting and, be believing me or do not, there was hole in ground and Ivor fell through,” he emphasized the fall with whooshing and crashing noises. “Ivor really got the banging around, but was no big deal. After two days of walking I come upon most beautiful thing Ivor has ever seen; FISH! Fish like you would not be believing… oh except Miss Priestess has seen fish, she is the believing.” The giant laughed, realizing the whole reason they were even here was because she had seen his fish and wanted to come here. Zeph shot an amused glance toward Tia, gauging whether or not Ivor’s story was true.

She didn’t return his look. Tia became lost in the void as they walked, the stretching, aching nothingness. It erased the boundaries that made her, one by one. Raising a small hand, she ghosted her fingers against the cave wall. The jagged stone pricked at her, reminding her of where her body ended – reminded her that she was not boundless. Ivor’s voice bounced against the stone, filling the air with something that wasn’t her own breath, her own light footsteps tapping against the ground. In the darkness, with only the faint light of Zeph’s lamp, Tia’s eyes traced the men’s outlines, the edges of their bodies separating them from the rest of the cavern.

Zeph remained quiet as they pressed deeper into the cave, attuned to every faint sound echoing through the dark. Water dripped from the ceiling, each drop echoing in the stillness between Ivor’s narration. Rocks shifted and crunched beneath their boots, occasionally tumbling in unseen depths, each sound keeping him alert.

Every so often, his gaze flicked toward Tia, who he now walked beside. She seemed lost in thought, her expression distant, as though the cave held some sort of significance. She hadn’t shared why she insisted on coming here, and he hadn’t pressed her for answers during their trek, but still, curiosity gnawed at him.

Once far enough, a violet light faintly began to glow from the edge of the darkness, “Oh! Ivor think we are getting closer now!”

It was like every part of Tia stilled as she saw the soft glow of lights – the fluttering of her heart, the blood in her veins, even her ever whirling thoughts. She didn’t freeze, though. She didn’t trap herself as she so often did. It was stillness like a held breath, quiet and eager.

Suddenly unaware of the two men accompanying her, Tia moved forward, past them and towards the light. Zeph quickened his pace to stay close behind, instinctively resting a hand upon the hilt of his blade, unease settling in his chest. There was no hesitation in Tia’s steps as a burning weight urged her forward, until –

_{...The heavens shined…}

They glittered around her — crystals embedded into the midnight stone of the chamber that the cave opened into. A spectrum of blues and violets sparkled, illuminating the darkness with a river of color. They flowed into a glowing pool, filled with glittering fish that rippled the water’s surface.

‘It’s real.’

Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest. Her hair stood on end. Tia couldn’t look away from the pool. It was different from her vision, but it shined like the galaxy all the same, with stars not above, but…

Below.

Zeph’s breath hitched. The scene felt impossible, surreal—like stepping into the heart of a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. Something about this place didn’t sit right with him.

He crouched by the water’s edge, his gaze drawn to the crystals growing along the shore. They seemed to pulse with a mesmerizing, otherworldly energy, casting an ethereal glow across the cavern. His gaze followed their path into the water, where more crystals glowed beneath the surface, their blue and purple hues bleeding into the depths, illuminating the water in an unnatural way. Fish swam past, their glowing bodies drifting lazily before disappearing into the shadows, beyond the reach of the crystal's light.

“What is this place?” Zeph asked, his voice low with awe and suspicion, as he glanced up at Tia.

His voice seemed far away as she watched the water, flecks of light reflecting in her wide, dark eyes. There was only the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the small puffs of air that escaped her parted lips. She wasn’t in control of her own body as she slowly lowered herself to kneel before the water. The jagged stone pressed into the fabric around her legs.

These were the stars she was meant to find.

_{...Tiin…Gaaaa…Raaaaa…}

Transfixed, Tia reached out a hand, her ring catching in the glow of the crystals.

Ivor smiled, “Ahhh, good to be back,” Ivor mused, his voice echoing along the crystal walls. It was only for a small duration, but this place felt like a little home away from home. Natural ambience, a cool enclosed space and plenty of fish to feast on. “When Ivor fell down hole, Ivor had no idea where he was. It was only by chance that I happen upon crystal cave.” Zeph glanced up as he stood, his eyes scanning the furthest reaches of the cavern. Where had Ivor fallen from?

Ivor unslung the polearm, carefully setting it down, “Ivor bet, if he had weapon like this, spearfishing would have been more fun, easier than casting line and using bare hand,” he began to remove his boots and strip off the rest of his leathers and furs while he spoke. “Ivor spent whole blizzard in here, fishing and fishing and fishing, catch many MANY fish and-” something suddenly clicked in the blightborn.

“Oh no!” Zeph’s eyes darted back to Ivor, now down to just his loincloth, dropping onto his hands and knees at the water’s edge, effectively scaring the fish. Tia snapped back into herself, bringing her hand back into her chest as she flinched away from Ivor. He was a hulking, blighted mass of angry (naked) muscle beside her and Tia was starkly aware of how very small she was in comparison. How very fragile she was. “Ivor left all of the fish in front of the temple! Ivor forgot to give it to Sya!” Slamming a fist into the ground he slew out a slurry of curses in his native tongue, “Damn it all!” Tia let out a terrified squeak and fell to the side, into Zeph. His hand shot out to catch her, but she spun from his grasp, leaving him grimacing. She tried to scramble away, the jagged rocks on the cave floor catching against her hands. Without warning Ivor shot his head into the lake and yelled into the water, bubbles emerging along the surface.

That… Tia didn’t know what to do with that. Body still frozen in fear, she watched Ivor scream into the water, his booming voice suddenly muffled. The longer it went on, the more her fear turned into stunned confusion.

…His lung capacity was quite impressive, actually.

Zeph blinked. Slowly. Twice.

Tia glanced up at Zeph. Then back to Ivor. Slowly, she crept towards Ivor again and raised a trembling hand. “Tia…” Zeph said cautiously, his muscles tensing. She paused at the sound of her name. Though he hadn’t asked her to formally introduce herself, he’d known it all along. It took several heartbeats for her to work up the nerve to pat Ivor on his bare arm. She hoped it came off as comforting.

Ivor’s head resurfaced in a cascade of water raining from his long locks, the screaming subsided with a deep inhale and sighing exhale. His eyes found the priestess beside him, a trembling, pitiful figure who seemed terribly frightened. Ivor gave her a sheepish expression, realizing he was most likely the cause, “Ivor apologize, sometimes Ivor get too into head, good ice dunk is way to clear head, make it easy to move forward.” The blightborn stood up, dusting himself off and offering a hand for Tia to lift her up as well. “Ivor should go first, make sure it is safe down there…but Ivor does not know what to look for.” He shrugged, while it was possible that they could all go, if there was a dead end or if they went too far without resurfacing…well technically speaking he was the only dead one here.

Zeph’s muscles gradually relaxed, though his heartbeat remained quicker than usual. He let out a slow exhale, forcing himself to appear calmer than he felt. Being trapped in this confined space with such a massive blight-born wasn’t exactly ideal—especially if that blight-born decided to turn feral.

As Ivor helped Tia to her feet, Zeph’s gaze shifted back to the shimmering water. It stretched further than the light could reach, its true depths veiled in darkness. Pulling his attention away, he quietly moved toward the edges of the cavern, his lantern casting sharp shadows as he searched along jagged stone.

His steps slowed as the light revealed another corridor carved into the rock, the ceiling lower and the width thinner, but likely where Ivor had first stumbled into this place. He stared down the tunnel for a moment, pondering how deep it went, before glancing back at the giant and the mouse.

Zeph’s brow furrowed as he returned to them, his eyes set on Tia with a quiet focus.

‘Why?’

Why had a Priestess of Aelios come to this place? The glow of the crystals and the glittering fish weren’t enough. She had seen the fish with her own eyes, according to Ivor. Was she that interested in the crystals? His gaze flickered to the dirt smudged across her robes from the fall, then returned to her face, trying to piece together a puzzle.

Tia’s eyes unfocused as she considered Ivor’s suggestion. Most of the water from Ivor’s eruption had only gotten through the top-most layer of her robes, but some still dotted her skin and hair, causing her to tremble. Arms wrapped around herself, she looked back to the glittering pool, the fish cautiously approaching the shore again. Then she pulled her bag off of one shoulder and around to her front. After some digging, she found her notebook and pencil again.

She bit her lip. Looked up between Ivor and Zeph again. Then she wrote out a message. Tia worked up her courage and showed him the page.

He’s still learning to read. Please tell Ivor that I’m not sure what we’re looking for either, but I think I’ll know when I see it. I should go, too.

“Go?” he repeated, surprise evident on his face. His eyes darted from her face to the water. “In there?” he laughed in disbelief. Tia’s eyebrows drew together. Her book lowered. “You know it’s freezing, right?” he raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge how serious she was. He couldn’t imagine an Aurelian would find frigid water inviting. Even Lunarians weren’t keen on taking cold plunges for fun.

Tia was trembling from only a few drops of water on her skin — she was very aware of how cold it was. Pressing her lips together, Tia looked down and swiped at the water with her sleeve. Her cheeks started to warm.

He glanced over at Ivor with a wry grin. “She wants to go too,” he said with a shake of his head before turning his attention back on the water. Tia was obviously determined, but there was no way he was letting her freeze to death in this little cave. Did either of them even have the material to get a fire going? Or know fire magic?

Tia’s eyes darted back up at his tone. She frowned.

“You’re more resistant to the cold, aren’t you?” he asked, glancing briefly at Ivor. “How about you take a swim first and see what you can find.” He paused, then shrugged. “Or I will.” Tia held her book close to her chest, arms wrapped around it as Zeph all but dismissed her.

‘He doesn’t have to be rude.’

‘What a stupid idea.’

Ivor blinked at Zeph then turned to Tia with a soft smile and crouched to be more on her level, “Miss Priestess, you come so far, but would not be good if journey ended before it began.” Tia deflated slightly at Ivor’s gentleness, though her displeasure was still clear on her face. He reached out slowly and gently pat her head. “There will be time and place to be brave, but now is time for waiting. Ivor will be back.” The blightborn then stood up and walked to the water’s edge, crouching low to dive straight down. Tia’s eyes flicked back to Zeph for a moment before she focused again on Ivor. She stood as tall as she could, her head held high as befitting a priestess – even if her blush gave her away.

“Hm…Ivor wonder if he can drown…oh well time to find out.” Like a flash, he was up in the air, his legs springboarding him into the air before he tucked his entire body into a cannonball dunk, scattering the fish in his wake.

Tia gasped, the air harsh against her throat as frigid water splashed over her. She curled in on herself, narrow shoulders scrunching up as she tried to turn away. It was so cold that it was painful where the water hit her skin, soaking into patches of her hair and clothing. Her trembling turned to shaking as she tried to straighten up enough to look back into the water after Ivor.

“Vash’ti.” Zeph muttered, the foreign curse slipping out like a growl. It was an old word, one he’d picked up long ago from his father—barbarian in origin, a remnant of lessons Zeph hadn’t entirely wanted, but never managed to forget. As icy water dripped from his chin, he wiped it away, casting a glare at Ivor, now submerged, before shifting his focus.

“You alright?” he asked Tia, briefly overtaken by concern. His eyes lingered on the way wet strands of hair perfectly framed her face as she tried to peer into the water. The way she shivered sent a flicker of irritation through him, directed at Ivor. This was no place for a delicate sunflower like her.

Tia glanced up at him, expecting more mockery in his gaze, but his expression was uncharacteristically serious. Granted, she’d barely known him an hour. She didn’t even know his name. She supposed she didn’t know what was uncharacteristic for him. Still, it caught Tia off guard. A trickle of guilt mixed in with the cold.

She took him in again, this stranger that was now deep in a cave, dripping with freezing water because of her. He wasn’t shaking like she was, though. The cold didn’t seem to steal from him, like it did her, even if he’d been splashed just the same. His hair seemed midnight dark, the water making it shine where it had landed. Her eyes caught on the way the water dripped over the curve of his cheekbone, down the line of his jaw, to the — nope.

Her eyes snapped back up to his. She forced herself to nod. Then, if only for something to do (or anywhere else to look) Tia pulled her bag to her front again and started digging through it. At least her arms had blocked most of the water from soaking through her book, even if now her sleeves were heavy.

Her hand emerged with a thin towel. It wouldn’t cover much more than the length of his torso if he tried to drape it around himself. It was meant for the heat of the temple springs, rather than this Lunarian chill, to tide visitors over from the water to the temple where they could properly dress and dry themselves. But it was something.

Tia held it up in offering to Zeph.

His expression softened, a sly smile returning to his lips simultaneously. “You first,” he said, gesturing casually toward her. “Can’t have you freezing solid on my watch. That Champion of yours would see to it that I never felt peace again.” Tia nearly flinched when she thought of Dyna… she would not be pleased if she ever learned of this venture.

Zeph’s gaze flicked to the towel briefly before returning to her. It was small, hardly enough to make a difference for either of them, but the gesture wasn’t lost on him. Strange, how someone so clearly out of her depth in a place like this was still thinking of others before herself.

“Go on,” he added, motioning again with a touch of playful confidence. “Don’t worry about me. I’m built for this.” he grinned, even as the icy chill bit at his skin, a sensation he refused to let show.

Finally, Tia recognized the masculine bravado for what it was. She’d been a healer for a long time — men or women, small or large, all people needed care, whether or not they were willing to admit to it. And men — especially young, fit ones like him — were often the least willing, in her experience.

Something crossed her face. It was a mix between indulgence, amusement, and bashfulness as she accepted his words. With a small shake of her head, Tia turned back to face the water. She unfolded the towel, pressing it against her wet hair, as she tried to find any sign of Ivor in the depths. The glow of the crystals only went so far, before darkness swallowed it. Tia wondered how deep it went — what Ivor would report when he came back to them.

Her hands stilled when she saw something flickering. The fish, their movement normally so sporadic and disorganized, suddenly turned, nearly in time with each other, to point deeper into the pool. They darted, clearing the shallows. Tia’s eyebrows drew together as she watched the odd behavior.

Then her eyes widened. She started tapping at Zeph’s arm frantically as something dark and crimson drifted up through the water like smoke.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Royal Home > Into Town

Eris descended the steps of the royal home with swift, hurried movements, one hand gripping the folds of her dress to keep it from tangling beneath her feet. Her heart thrummed nervously in her chest. She needed to find Priestess Tingara—and fast.

As her boots struck the wooden floor of the main hall, fragmented memories of her first meeting with Tia flashed through her mind. Tia’s face, pale and streaked with blood after her ordeal with Willis. The jagged scar marring her neck. The steam from the hot springs wrapping around them like a veil, and Tia’s delicate fingers tracing letters into her palm, urging her to study Willis’ blood. The vividness of those moments had clung to her ever since.

Instinctively, her hand slipped into the pocket of her coat, curling around hairpins Tia had left behind at the hot spring. Eris had intended to return them, but the blizzard had prevented it. The smooth, cool metal of the pins felt grounding in her palm, a tether to focus her frayed nerves. She fiddled with them as her free hand tugged her hood up as she stepped outside, shielding herself from biting cold and prying eyes.

She strode through the streets with hurried steps, trying to ignore the heightened activity around her. Guards moved in clusters, their armor clinking in the dim light of torches. Voices carried in the air, sharp with urgency. Somewhere out there, a murderous blight-born prowled the streets.

Rising panic clawed at her thoughts. She drew a deep breath, her lungs burning as she tried to steady herself. She needed to stay focused.

Tia. She needed Tia.

Guilt pressed heavy against her chest at the thought. Asking something so monumental of the Priestess again felt cruel, especially knowing how drained Tia had been after saving that boy. This would demand almost as much. But this was the Princess. And together, it might lessen the blow. Eris could offer her mana, bolster Tia’s magic. They could do it. They had to.

Doubt slithered through her mind, curling into every corner. She saw her brother’s disappointed face in her mind’s eye, his familiar frown cutting deeper into her confidence. She clenched her jaw and made a silent prayer to Aelios for her support.

The toll of a bell shattered the air, three heavy strikes that sent her heart lurching into her throat. She froze, her steps faltering as her eyes darted toward the town’s center, where the alarm bell stood. Distant shouts of guards calling for order reached her ears. Her hand tightened around the hairpins in her pocket as her breath hitched, trembling fingers gripping the metal like a lifeline.

For a moment, fear threatened to root her in place. Then she exhaled a shaky breath, forcing herself to move.

She had a mission. She had to trust that the guards would handle the threat. The guards were vigilant, the streets alive with their light and noise. She would be fine.

Wouldn’t she?

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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

Part I

---

Holding Amaya close, his arms wrapped securely around her, Flynn listened intently to the soft cadence of her breathing. A lullaby he hadn’t known he’d needed. For a moment, he allowed himself to savor it—to lose himself in the rise and fall of her chest, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, the way her body softened into his as sleep reclaimed her.

For a fleeting span of minutes, he felt the world narrow to just this—just her—and he tried to hold onto the moment with quiet desperation. Her breathing deepened and he closed his eyes, his muscles easing around her.

Despite his efforts, her warmth felt like a fragile balm against the storm that had been building in his mind, slowly slipping out of reach with every passing second. Like the tide, his thoughts crept back in, relentless as ever, and dragged him from the edge of sleep.

He reopened his eyes, fixating on the amber glow of the ceiling. The weight of each task waiting for him began to unfurl in his thoughts, one after the other, crowding his mind. The feral blight-born loomed at the forefront. Where was it now and why had there been no word of progress? Each question stabbed at him like daggers, lodging deep into his chest.

The silence in the room felt like a shadow inching closer, thick and suffocating. And there was still so much he hadn’t yet said to Amaya.

Dread coiled tightly in his chest, but Flynn remained still, unable to bring himself to let her go. His arms tightened around her, holding on as if she were the only thing tethering him to sanity. But his eyes stayed locked on the ceiling, memories and fears playing out like ghosts across the empty ceiling, weaving a tapestry of what-ifs and could-bes that he couldn’t escape.

Mercifully, a soft knock at the door shattered the endless loop of his thoughts. His body tensed, and he glanced down at Amaya, her features still peaceful in the embrace of sleep. For a moment, he thought about staying there, letting the world wait.

But duty always had a way of calling louder.

Flynn shifted, sliding his arm out from under her as carefully as possible. He paused, watching to ensure she remained undisturbed, before rising from the bed and quietly crossing the room to the door.

When he opened it, a guard stepped aside to reveal Elara standing with her ever-composed demeanor, her silvery hair catching the light in the dim hallway. Beside her was Eris Hightower, whose sharp eyes locked onto him with concern before she bowed her head.

“Lady Moonshadow, Lady Hightower,” Flynn greeted them softly, his voice low, mindful of the sleeping Princess behind him. He opened the door wider, motioning for them to step inside. “She awoke earlier, but...” his gaze flicked back to Amaya. He could still feel the way her lips pressed against his. “She’s asleep again.”

Elara entered the room, her gaze instinctively gravitating toward the fragile figure reclining on the bed. The pallor of her friend’s complexion, illuminated by the silvery cascade of moonlight threading through the curtains, rendered her beauty delicate, almost spectral. Relief coursed through the handmaiden like a muted current, a fleeting reprieve that could not fully dispel the persistent knot of trepidation tightening within her chest.

Her glacial blue eyes shifted to Flynn, briefly catching the fatigue etched into his features before flicking to Eris, who had followed close behind her. “I brought Lady Hightower, as you requested, and have informed her of everything that has transpired.”

“Thank you, Elara.” Flynn gently closed the door behind them, watching as Eris quietly moved toward the bedside.

Kneeling at Amaya’s side, her gaze swept over the Princess with intense focus. Finding the speckling of bruises along the lower half of Amaya’s forearm, a frown formed on her lips.

“She’s in pain from it.” Flynn quietly informed Eris, stepping around Elara to sit at the foot of the bed, his worried eyes shifting between Eris and Amaya.

Eris didn’t respond, her focus entirely locked on the Princess. Slowly, she reached out, pressing the back of her hand against Amaya’s forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch, no fever present, but the absence of one only deepened Eris’s concern. Relief might have been her instinct under different circumstances, but now, she wondered if Amaya’s body was failing to recognize the blight-borns foreign substance.

After a long moment, Eris’s gaze flicked to Flynn. He was watching her every move intently, brows drawn together. Their gazes met briefly, a silent understanding passing between them, before Eris turned her attention back to Amaya.

Gently, she placed a hand on Amaya’s shoulder, her touch firm yet careful. Leaning in slightly, Eris spoke, trying to make her words soft enough to avoid startling but clear enough to cut through the haze. “Your Highness,” she murmured, giving the slightest shake to Amaya’s shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

Amaya’s brows drew together slightly as her breathing shifted. Her eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused with sleep. Then she registered a presence above her.

Flinching back, Amaya gave a small gasp as the world came back to her. Flashes of crimson and pain shot through her like ice — and then her mind caught up with her surroundings. The face above her wasn’t pale with bloody, dripping teeth. It was familiar. A woman. Flynn’s sage.

Flynn.

His presence was unmistakable, drawing her attention like a beacon. Pale blue eyes met green as Amaya’s heart tried to slow itself again, adrenaline sharp in her blood. He seemed so far away from her, sitting at the edge of her bed. She didn’t know if that was a relief or an ache. Amaya held his gaze as the memory of his warmth echoed through her body — against her back. Along her cheek. Into her lips.

She looked away from him — towards anything else. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Her skin was warm. The feel of her dress against her body was suddenly too tight, the blankets too heavy as they weighed her down… but not as heavy as his arm around around her waist, holding her close, breathing her in —

In her desperation to avoid Flynn’s gaze, she found someone else: Elara. Silver and unmistakable, her friend stood near the back of the room, safe and whole.

Some tightness in Amaya’s heart unspooled as relief flooded her.

“Elara,” she breathed. “You’re here.”

You’re safe.

Then she remembered herself. Even with her scattered nerves, Amaya fought to pull herself back together. She returned her attention back to the woman above her. “Lady Hightower,” she murmured in greeting.

Fighting to not let her discomfort show on her face, Amaya tried to push herself up to a seated position. Her limbs still ached, heavy with the day’s events. She winced through the pain as she moved.

Elara stepped forward, her movements guided by an almost imperceptible urgency as Amaya strained to sit upright. “You mustn’t exert yourself,” she murmured, her voice a delicate balance of steadiness and gentle admonition. Lowering herself to her knees on the opposite side of the bed from Eris, Elara’s hands hovered just above Amaya’s shoulders—poised to offer support, though she hesitated, unwilling to encroach without permission.

“I’m here,” she assured instead, her gaze locking with Amaya’s. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

Amaya’s hand moved without her permission, reaching for Elara’s. She needed to touch her, to know that she was whole and real, her skin warm, her pulse steady. A memory flashed in her mind — of laying on Elara’s floor, coated in ice, as they clung to each other.

The Princess, normally so reserved and guarded with her emotions, closed her eyes and gave a quiet sigh. Her fingers tightened around Elara’s.

Flynn watched the exchange, a quiet ache settling in his chest as he wished, just for a moment, that it had been him she had reached for.

“I’m… I’m fine,” she said as she opened her eyes again. Her voice was frail. It was unacceptable.

She kept a hold of Elara as she continued to push herself up with her other hand. Finally, she was sitting upright again, back against the headboard. Fighting to even out her breathing, she refused to look at the other figures in her room — she refused to see the way they looked at her, as she stubbornly composed herself.

Eris watched silently, her heart tightening at the evident bond between Amaya and Elara. A faint smile touched her lips, but it faltered when her gaze shifted momentarily to Flynn. His expression—a mix of longing and vulnerability—was so uncharacteristic that it felt like an intrusion to witness. Eris quickly averted her eyes, as if respecting a moment that wasn’t hers to observe. Rarely had she ever seen Flynn, typically so guarded and composed, allow such emotion to surface.

After letting the moment linger, Eris finally spoke, her voice soft and respectful. “Your Highness,” she said, her hand gesturing toward Amaya’s bruised forearm, “may I?”

When the Princess offered only a nod, Eris shifted closer. With a small snap of her fingers, two tiny orbs of soft yellow light burst into existence, hovering just above the top of her left hand. Light spilled into each corner of the room in an instant, providing Eris a better look.

Amaya kept her gaze focused on her hand, intertwined with Elara’s as Eris worked. The familiar contrast of their skin tones, the feel of Elara’s slender fingers against hers… for a moment, Amaya remembered different hands. Larger. More callused. Warmer, scorching her skin where they touched her. She couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing up to find him, still sitting at the edge of her bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. She forced her eyes back down.

As Amaya’s gaze lifted, her eyes momentarily alighting on Flynn, Elara detected a subtle shift in her expression that was so short-lived it might have escaped anyone less attuned to her. But the handmaiden was no casual observer; she knew Amaya intimately, well enough to discern the undercurrent of emotion that stirred beneath the surface. The moment was fleeting, vanishing almost as soon as it appeared, yet it lodged itself in Elara’s chest, a disquiet she could neither name nor entirely suppress. Still, she responded instinctively, her fingers pressing lightly into Amaya’s, the touch a silent overture of unwavering support. It was a gesture that conveyed the words she dared not speak, even as an unwelcome pang of intrusion pricked at the edges of her consciousness.

Such feelings were inconsequential. Irrelevant. At least, that was the narrative she forced herself to believe.

Taking Amaya’s forearm into her hands with the utmost care, Eris turned it, inspecting the bruising and central point of injury with meticulous focus. The orbs of light followed her movements as her fingers lightly traced the edges of the discoloration, feeling for any abnormalities. Her expression remained calm, though her thoughts were anything but.

Healing magic had always come naturally to her, but this was no ordinary wound. She could easily mend wounds and ease pain, but dealing with toxins required an entirely different level of power and precision—one she had never attempted, and had only studied.

Such a feat would require magic of an extraordinarily high caliber, and even then, the success was uncertain. Even if Aelios were high in the sky to bolster her mana reserves, the risks of failure were staggering. And without precise knowledge of what was coursing through Amaya’s body, the risk was incalculable.

Even for a skilled healer such as herself, this was daunting.

As she worked, Eris bit the inside of her lip, her mind racing through possible solutions. Her hands moved with care, noting the arm’s temperature, texture, and shifts in tone. Silently, she cursed the fact that she had never been permitted to study blood magic—a forbidden art that would have been invaluable now, though she would never dare voice such a thought aloud.

Finally, Eris looked up, her expression calm. “Can you tell me where the pain is concentrated, Your Highness?” she asked, her tone soft. “Has it spread beyond your arm, or do you feel unwell in any other way? Dizziness? Nausea? Anything unusual?”

Amaya was still, her words, her breath, her nerves, all held tightly in a ball just behind her heart. Her world felt off-kilter. She didn’t know where she stood, or how to be, surrounded by people who looked at her with patience and kind eyes and warm hands. Her emotions threatened to spill out of her. They pulled in her chest, caught in a gravity she was unwilling to give into – not now, not with so many eyes on her. Not when giving in would mean falling apart.

“Fatigue,” Amaya finally said. It felt like the word took pieces with her as it wrenched itself free from her grasp. It felt like an admission of her own inadequacies. “The pain is concentrated in my arm.” Her voice was soft, but clear. There was a sterile quality to it, like she was trying to hide every bit of herself away to simply deliver the requested information. She tried to sort through what could be related to the blight-born’s magic, and what simply hurt because of her own frailty. Most of her body ached in some way. She was exhausted. Her head swam. “Even without his blood, some level of discomfort is to be expected, I imagine,” she murmured. Her gaze stayed locked on her hand in Elara’s as she tried to pull fact away from emotion, events away from memory.

“When he… injected me,” she said, something small and breakable leaking into her voice, “it was overwhelming. It was difficult to focus, or feel in control of myself.” She’d felt like she was floating – like she was drowning. She remembered how the ground seemed to shift from under her, how she’d had to fight to try and keep her magic under control as it’d surged to meet this new threat. “It was in conjunction with some sort of psychic magic he had. It was like he took up too much space in my body.” He hadn’t just sent his thoughts to her – he’d echoed through her very blood, traveling down her veins.

Suddenly Amaya was desperate to have her magic back. It was still quiet in her blood, drained from the day’s events. But she wanted to feel it dance under her skin, wanted to feel the overwhelming chill of it – it was dangerous, but it was hers. She wanted it to take up so much space in her body that there was no room for anything or anyone else.

Amaya forced herself to take in a slow breath, her expression still carefully blank.

“It grew stronger after he fed.”

“I see,” Eris murmured, nodding slowly as the weight of the information settled over her. Her gaze shifted back to Amaya’s forearm, and the faintest sigh slipped past her lips. “The pain in your arm... I can ease it,” she said, her brows knitting in concern. “But I—” she hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she looked up at Amaya again. “I don’t know if I can dispel this on my own. What’s been done to you… it’s unlike anything I’ve dealt with before. And without Aelios, I...” She stopped herself, shaking her head as she cut herself off from going into a rant of excuses and concerns. None of it would help. Amaya didn’t need her doubt—she needed solutions.

Eris shifted her gaze to Flynn, who reluctantly tore his attention from Amaya to meet her eyes. “I believe Priestess Tingara may be our best hope,” she continued. “She’s already demonstrated her skill, as you know...” Her voice softened as her thoughts lingered on the memory of the boy Tia had saved. That act alone had demanded immense power. Combined, they could be a force to reckon with.

With a deep breath, Eris centered herself, and channeled magic into her palms. Moving her hands slowly downward with featherlight pressure, a faint golden shimmer flowed over Amaya’s skin, seeping into her arm and radiating outward like sunlight. The magic entered, eagerly searching for something to mend or heal. What if would find, if anything at all, Eris was unsure. At the very least, it provided a soothing effect—a calming balm that dulled the sharp edges of pain and provided a sense of warmth.

As the light dimmed, Eris withdrew her hands slowly. These days, the expense of her magic felt as if a piece of her always faded with it, slow to return and leaving a sudden hollowness in her chest where it had normally overflowed.

“This will only last for a few hours.” she admitted softly, “but it should help you rest and regain some strength.”

Rising to her feet, Eris dusted off her dress and coat, the orbs of light still following her every movement. Her eyes briefly landed on the shoes lined neatly by the bed—Flynn and Amaya’s—before returning to Prince’s face. “I’ll return with the Priestess as soon as I can.”

Flynn gave her a small nod of approval, and Eris glanced down at Amaya one last time, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “Rest, Your Highness. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.” Her voice held a note of confidence, despite the nerves buzzing inside her chest.

Without waiting for a reply, she inclined her head respectfully and turned, her light trailing after her as she slipped out the door.

Elara’s thoughts followed after Eris like whispered prayers, a subdued hope threading through her consciousness that the priestess would be found with haste. Though Eris’s voice had carried the measured cadence of reassurance, she had not missed the faint tremor beneath the words—the unspoken burden of uncertainty cloaked by the practiced serenity of a skilled healer.

Lowering her eyes, she found her own hands still lightly entwined with Amaya’s. The tension that had held her fingers in a near-constant vice finally relented, though a nearly imperceptible tremor remained in its wake, betraying the storm of doubt roiling within her. Her breath caught for a moment as a flicker of insecurity took root. She had dabbled in healing magic, yes—enough to close shallow wounds or dull the sharp edges of pain—but the intricacies required now were far beyond her grasp, weren’t they? Was Amaya truly going to be alright? Would this priestess truly be able to help them?

Elara’s throat constricted as fragments of memory surged unbidden to the forefront of her mind: her mother’s gentle hands enveloping hers, guiding her faltering attempts at channelling the intricate art of healing. She could still recall the incandescent glow flickering tentatively in her palms as her mother’s voice—soft yet imbued with unwavering authority—echoed in her ears. “Magic, especially this kind, is the art of balance, Elara,” she had said, her tone a harmony of admonition and encouragement. “Too much, and you risk causing harm instead of mending. Too little…and your effort is a whisper lost to the wind.”

Her fingers tightened reflexively around Amaya’s hand, the slight pressure grounding her even as her thumb brushed against the princess’s knuckles in a gesture that spoke of both reassurance and a need for stability. Those early lessons had been straightforward, the stakes confined to withering flora or the sting of a scraped knee. But as the years unfolded, the royal court’s exacting tutelage had reshaped magic into a meticulous discipline, stripping it of its instinctual essence and transforming it into an exact science. “Healing is not simply the mending of flesh,” her tutors had intoned with unwavering severity. “It is the restoration of the whole. Intent without precision is not merely ineffectual—it is dangerous.”

And yet, what purpose did all those years of meticulous training serve now, when her mastery felt woefully inadequate against the malevolent tendrils of blight-born… magic? Her mother’s axiom of balance intertwined with the court’s unrelenting insistence on perfection, forming a tangled knot of doubt that pressed heavily against her chest. If Eris could not act, would Elara’s skill suffice in the face of such insidious corruption? Could she dare to wield her magic, knowing failure might deepen the wounds she sought to heal?

The weight of those doubts settled over her like a smothering shadow. But as her gaze lingered on Amaya’s pallid, drawn visage, Elara inhaled slowly, forcing air into her lungs, steadying the trembling edges of her thoughts. The Princess needed her—needed her to anchor herself, to push through the turmoil and remain steadfast. The maelstrom of uncertainty would have to wait, silenced for now by the unassailable truth that Amaya’s wellbeing came above all else.

Whatever doubts lingered in her heart, they would not be allowed to interfere.

Dread tightened its grip around Flynn's heart as he watched the Sage leave, but he tried his best to ignore it. If Eris was uncertain about helping Amaya, what hope did they really have? He stifled a sigh as his thoughts drifted to the Priestess and his prior conversation with her. Hopefully she would still be willing to aid them. Exhaling slowly, he drew his attention back to Amaya, rising from where he sat and moving to fill the vacant space Eris had left behind. Her pale eyes flicked up to him at the movement.

"Any better?" His gaze lingered on her arm for a moment, trying to find any subtle signs of relief, before shifting back to her face. Briefly, he glanced toward Elara, hoping to gauge her thoughts and see how she was holding up, but found his focus quickly returning to Amaya once more, her well-being consuming him entirely.

Flynn’s question broke through Elara’s thoughts then, and her eyes flicked to him as he moved to Amaya’s side. The tension in his features was unmistakable, a reflection of the same worry that had twisted in her chest a mere moment ago.

Elara adjusted her posture, sitting straighter as she met Flynn’s gaze. “The warmth seemed to ease her, at least,” she offered softly, her thumb brushing lightly across the back of Amaya’s hand in an absent, soothing gesture as she looked at her friend.

"What’s important now is remaining calm,” she added, addressing both Flynn and Amaya. “And keeping her strength up until the priestess arrives.”

Amaya’s nerves took new shape, morphing into sharp irritation.

“Her strength,” Amaya cut in, pulling her hand back from Elara’s, “is fine.” Her magic twitched to life inside her – it still slumbered, buried deep beneath her bones, but its stirring loosened the coils around her heart, if only a bit. And then just like that, her anger cooled into chilling regret. She felt the loss of Elara’s hand against hers, her steady presence and soft skin. Amaya closed her eyes, her empty hand curling closed in her lap. “I’m sorry,” Her voice was soft. Opening her eyes, she looked back to Elara. “I’m fine,” she murmured, another apology in her gaze. Amaya looked back down at her hand and tried to take in a slow breath.

Emotions swam under her skin, knocking against each other and growing tangled as she tried to maintain control. It had been easier in front of the sage – she was little more than a stranger. But now she sat in her bed, with Elara’s care, and Flynn’s nearness, and her emotions swelled like the tide, threatening to drown her.

“This is all unnecessary.” She said it like that simple statement would put all of this to rest – though even Amaya wasn’t sure what she was referring to. Her emotions? Their concern? The call for the Priestess (yet another stranger that Amaya would have to weather)? Amaya was tired of being looked at, and worried over, and cared for. She hated seeing that concerned, scared look in their eyes, and knowing she’d put it there.

“The magic has faded,” she said, forcing herself to meet Elara’s eyes. She tried to look steady and composed – even though she knew Elara had always been able to see through her. “The wound will heal.” She hesitated a moment before turning to look at Flynn. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She’d always found his expressiveness so… frustrating. Infuriating, really. But now, as she met his gaze, finding something so raw and fragile in his eyes…

It nearly took her breath away.

“I survived.” The reminder drifted between them, soft as a hand on his cheek. Then Amaya pulled back into herself. She broke her gaze, looking for something unimportant – she found the small glow of candlelight on the far wall of her bedroom. Her hands drew together in her lap, her fingers grazing the scab of her entry wound.

“I’m not so breakable that we need to waste magic on something my body will do on its own.”