The Muse

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Orion's Home | Collaboration with @Qia

Flynn strode through the dimly lit gravel streets of Dawnhaven, his thoughts churning with a list of concerns he needed to address with Orion. The events of the past night and this morning had brought more complications than he had anticipated, and he was keen to seek his advisor’s counsel. Orion’s wisdom had always been a guiding force, and Flynn was eager to hear his thoughts on everything that had transpired.

Reaching Orion’s door, Flynn knocked and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the conversation to come. There was much to discuss, and little time to waste.

The sound of Flynn’s knock echoed through the dimly lit room, each rap on the door resonating with a sense of urgency that gave pause to Orion’s actions. The faint glow of the moon filtered through the window, casting long shadows on the walls that seemed to dance with the flickering candlelight. Orion, seated at his desk, looked up from the documents he was reviewing, his eyes narrowing as he tried to gauge the gravity of the situation. The urgency in the knock was unmistakable, a clear signal that the prince- for who else could it be? Willis didn’t seem like a knocker-required immediate counsel. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever news Flynn might bring, his mind already racing through possible scenarios, all of them dealing with the fledgling blightborn in his temporary care.

Orion rose from his chair, his movements swift and purposeful as he made his way to the door, the wooden floor creaking softly under his weight. He opened it to reveal Flynn, whose expression was one of concern. Stress. It had to be that.

“Your Highness,” the blightborn greeted, his tone respectful yet familiar, a delicate balance he had perfected over his time of service to the crown. “What troubles you this evening?” He gestured to a chair, inviting Flynn to sit and discuss the matters at hand, his own mind already preparing for the weighty conversation that was sure to follow.

Flynn stepped into Orion’s home, his expression grave as he met his blightborn advisor’s red eyes. “I’m afraid that much troubles me, Orion,” he began, his voice low and measured. “We have a town meeting to lead in an hour, and there’s much we need to discuss beforehand. I apologize for the short notice, but the urgency cannot be overstated.”

Taking the offered seat, Flynn exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’ve just received some terrible news—news that was revealed to me only yesterday.” He paused, the weight of the information heavy in the air. “The Queen of Lunaris is dead, and she has been for quite some time. It appears the King has tightly controlled this information, deliberately keeping it from becoming widespread news.”

Flynn leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. “And if that wasn’t enough, the King is already married to another woman, one who is rumored to be with child.” He shook his head, the disbelief still fresh. "This news is grim and could be a sign of the King's possible ulterior motives. According to Octavia, the late Queen was well-loved, and this will likely upset many. We must carefully decide how to present it to the town. We need to be cautious, but also transparent. The people deserve to know the truth, but we cannot afford to provoke the wrong response."

His gaze hardened as he added, “Orion, I must admit—I do not trust the King of Lunaris. There’s something about all of this that feels off, as if he has ulterior motives that we’re not yet privy to. I fear he may be using this secrecy to further some agenda, one that could put us all at risk.”

Flynn’s grave expression and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air, each syllable sinking into the room like a stone dropped into a still pond. The dim light from the moon cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the somber atmosphere that seemed to wrap around them like a shroud. The news of the Queen’s death and the King’s secrecy was a bombshell, shattering the fragile peace that had barely held them together. Orion clenched his fists briefly, leaning against the nearby wall with crossed arms as his mind deliberated their options.

“This news is indeed troubling,” the blightborn finally spoke. “The secrecy surrounding the Queen’s death and the King’s swift remarriage are highly suspicious. We must tread carefully there.” His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned Flynn’s face for any additional clues, his mind already piecing together the potential ramifications. Nonetheless, he leaned forward slightly, his posture conveying his readiness to tackle the issue head-on.

“I can draft a statement for the town meeting, or read over what you have already. We should also consider reaching out to any allies you can trust to gauge their reactions and gather more information about the King’s actions. This will help us anticipate any further moves he might make.”

Flynn nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair as he took out the folded piece of parchment containing the speech he had written earlier that morning. “I wrote this earlier today. And that’s another issue—our allies.” He sighed, unfolding the paper and placing it on the table for Orion to read over. “I met with the Lady of Durnatell this morning—the one I summoned for assistance with supplies.”

His gaze met Orion’s, his expression heavy with the weight of the revelation. “She’s been turned into a blight-born,” he said, letting the words linger in the air, knowing Orion would grasp the full implications. “The King must not know yet. If he does, he’ll surely have her head for it, and he’ll put someone else in charge of Durnatell.” Flynn shook his head, his frustration palpable. “She’s offered to live here, as if it were a gift to us. Yet I know she needs to remain out of sight from the King. She needs protection.”

Flynn’s expression hardened as he continued. “But she’s resistant to questioning. Tried to deny the interview we conduct with all blight-born. We will have to deal with that at a later time, but… we need Durnatell’s supply trade. I can’t afford to push her too hard. We’re walking a fine line here.”

“Hmm…this does complicate things significantly,” Orion said, walking over to pick up and skim over the parchment paper containing the prince’s speech. “Her resistance to questioning is troubling, but we cannot afford to alienate her either.” He paused, giving his mind time to race through potential strategies and responses. “Perhaps I could speak with this Lady directly,” Orion suggested, his tone thoughtful. “As a fellow Blight-Born, I might be able to offer her a perspective that she can relate to. It could help build trust and encourage her to cooperate.”

While Flynn reflected on this idea, Orion’s red eyes scanned the page in his hands as he took a seat, absorbing the prince’s carefully chosen words. The flickering candlelight on the table cast a warm glow on the parchment, illuminating the inked letters with a soft, golden hue that seemed to breathe life into the words. The blightborn’s mind continued to churn, considering the implications of each sentence, each phrase, as if they were pieces of a complex puzzle. He knew that their approach had to be both strategic and empathetic, a delicate dance of diplomacy and understanding that could not afford a single misstep. The room was silent except for the faint rustle of the parchment, the sound only coming to an end once he was finished with his reading, leaving a heavy stillness in its wake.

Flynn considered his advisor’s suggestion as Orion read over the speech, nodding in agreement. “Yes, let’s arrange that. Given how the Lunarians have treated the blight-born, it’s understandable she might be distrustful of humans.”

Orion found the prince’s words to be thoughtful and well-crafted, reflecting a growing maturity in his leadership that filled him with a quiet sense of pride. He glanced up at Flynn, a small smile playing on his lips, the kind that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. His eyes conveyed a sense of approval and respect, a silent acknowledgment of the prince’s progress. “I must say, your writing has improved significantly. You’ve come a long way,” he remarked, his tone warm and encouraging.

Flynn’s lips curved into a genuine smile at Orion’s compliment, a brief but heartfelt moment of pride flashing in his eyes. “I owe much of that to your guidance over the last two months. Thank you.” he said, his voice warm with appreciation and his gaze held Orion’s, a silent acknowledgment of the advisor’s significant role.

Flynn's smile lingered for a moment before becoming serious once more. "Speaking of your guidance..." he began, his tone shifting slightly, "how was it with Willis last night?" There was a hint of insinuation in his words, suggesting that he knew Orion had likely needed to guide Willis to behave. "And where is he now?"

Orion’s eyes met Flynn’s, a hint of a strained smile playing on his lips.

“Willis is… a handful, to say the least,” Orion replied, his tone light but honest. “Last night was a test of patience, but we managed. We were together last at the blacksmith’s, getting his equipment repaired. But then we parted ways so he could take a look at the post office.” He shook his head, the hint of a smile from before making a full appearance, a rare moment of genuine amusement breaking through his usual stoicism. “Considering it still stands, I assume that the errand went as well as it could have.”

Flynn listened to Orion's account, nodding along at the mention of Willis’s antics. As Orion mentioned the post office, Flynn's expression shifted as realized he had nearly forgotten to mention what had happened with Pleiades.

"Actually, that’s another thing I need to tell you about.” Flynn said, his tone turning more serious. “Willis won’t be working at the post office. There was an incident with Pleiades earlier." He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I went to tell Pleiades that he would have a new employee, but Willis got there before I did and Pleiades refused to have him work there. He said Willis is a danger and he’s not wrong…” He sighed and shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know what happened between them, but I… let my emotions get the better of me.”

Flynn hesitated, his discomfort evident. “Octavia told me she was…cuddling with Pleiades in her bed yesterday. And she fell asleep with him in her bed.” Flynn’s brows furrowed as he glared down at the table, conjuring up images of Pleiades in his wife's bed while Flynn himself had barely been allowed in her room. “I suppose she felt guilty and wanted to tell me, and both her and Pleiades say nothing happened, but…” He looked directly at Orion, his unease clear in his eyes. “Truth be told, it... made me extremely uncomfortable." Flynn's voice tightened slightly, “I don’t know what to make of it… Maybe this is normal behavior for Lunarians?”

Orion did his best to hide his surprise, feeling a surge of empathy and concern tug at his undead heart. The prince’s vulnerability and the personal nature of his concerns were clear; each word was a window into the struggles he was experiencing. Orion thought carefully about how to offer both support and practical advice. He knew that Flynn needed more than just a strategic plan at this moment—he needed reassurance. After all, his role was not just to advise but to be a pillar of strength for the prince in these trying times. Resolving to be the steadfast support Flynn needed, Orion prepared himself to help navigate through the challenges ahead.

“I understand your…discomfort,” Orion began, his voice steady and reassuring. “As for Lunarian costumes, they can be quite different from ours, but that doesn’t mean we should dismiss your feelings.” He hesitated here, not out of insecurity but to really think over what he wanted to say to his charge before saying it.

“Regarding Willis, I think we need to find a suitable role for him that keeps him occupied and out of trouble. Give him…tasks that perhaps allow him to use his skills, not just in flying but other things,” Orion suggested. “As for Pleiades and Octavia….” He looked away for a moment, the heaviness of his own memories pressing down on him before he met the prince’s eyes again. “My wife and I….before our separation…well…” He sighs, the pain of his past still a fresh wound.

This was still difficult for him to mull over. His family, the memories of what once was and what could never be again, haunted him.

“Honesty and openness go a long way,” Orion began, his voice gentle yet firm, each word chosen with care, “When you have a good time, you should express how you feel to the princess, without accusation. Seek to understand her perspective as well.” A smile, a sadder one this time, graced Orion’s lips, a fleeting glimpse into the sorrow that lingered in his own heart.

“This is no rejection on her part. I promise you.”

Flynn listened intently to Orion’s words, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. He appreciated the guidance, but it didn’t erase the sting of Octavia’s earlier words. He looked away, frowning slightly as he recalled their last conversation.

“Octavia said she would have rather died than come to Dawnhaven,” Flynn admitted, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Hearing that from her…it angered me. I know she’s struggling with all of this, but I’m trying to save our lives. I’m struggling too.” He sighed, trying to release the flash of anger that built up in his chest again. “Maybe I was too harsh with her when we last spoke. I acted out of anger, not understanding.” He paused, his thoughts drifting to his father, a man who had never hesitated to punish harshly for even the slightest of grievances. “Still, I know my father would have handled it far worse. He never had patience for anyone who questioned his decisions. At least I didn’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as if to dispel the thoughts of his father. “I don’t want to become my father.”

He turned back to Orion, his expression softening slightly. “I’ll try to reach out to her again, to connect and see things from her perspective. I need to keep my emotions in check.” Flynn took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of resolve amidst his uncertainty. If anything, at least Orion had made him feel slightly better about the entire situation.

Reaching for the speech he had written earlier, Flynn folded it carefully and tucked it into his pocket. “Thank you, Orion, for your assistance and your advice, as always. I need to see if Octavia is back at the house before our meeting.” He rose from his seat, giving Orion a grateful nod. “I must take my leave, but please join me on stage for the town meeting. The guards are putting it together now.”

“Anytime, of course,” Orion said, giving a sincere smile. He rose from his seat with the same fluid grace as the prince, walking to the door and opening it for his guest out of courtesy.

With that, Flynn made his way to the door, his mind already racing with thoughts of what he would say to Octavia, determined to approach the situation with more patience and understanding this time.

---

_{Mentions: Octavia, Pleiades @The Savant, Willis @BOOM, Olivia @amorphical}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

@sly13 We're still accepting! We'd be glad to have you :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Haha! Welcome! Feel free to hop in the Discord with us if you want - we're fairly active in there!

Realms of Sun & Shadow

@GambolMuse Please PM me your character sheet first :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

@GambolMuse We'd be glad to have you! :) let me know if you have any questions

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Herb Shop

Kira listened intently as Gadez spoke, his words flowing with a mix of coldness and theatrical flair that piqued her curiosity. His boldness amused her, particularly when he described her as "short yet effective." It was a compliment she could appreciate. However, the insinuation that her herb shop was a mess didn't sit well. She felt a flicker of irritation but kept it well-hidden behind her calm, calculated demeanor.

Her eyes never left him as he continued his monologue, his gaze drifting over her and her shop with an unsettling scrutiny. She found him intriguing, but that intrigue was tempered by a healthy dose of skepticism. His words were too smooth, his compliments laced with subtle digs that made her question his true intentions. She had come across many similar types of people during her training as an assassin. Gadez was clearly no mere gardener, and Kira wasn’t one to take anyone at face value—especially not someone who so effortlessly mingled flattery with critique.

"Short yet effective," she echoed with a faint smile, acknowledging his compliment. "I’d agree with that." Her tone was even, almost nonchalant, but there was a sharpness in her gaze that conveyed she was not one to be trifled with. Tilting her head slightly, Kira’s expression turned thoughtful. "I wasn’t aware the Princess was in need of a gardener," she said, her tone mild but laced with curiosity. "I suppose it makes sense, given the state of things."

Kira let her eyes sweep over the assortment of herbs and plants she had painstakingly gathered and nurtured. "Gardening isn’t really my specialty," she said, her tone practical and matter-of-fact. "The land here is harsh, and the ground grows too cold for anything to survive for long. Most of what you see here has been foraged from the forest. The wilds still hold some life, even in this unforgiving place."

Kira’s gaze shifted back to Gadez, her demeanor calm as she explained further. "I manage with a few plants indoors where the environment can be controlled, but for the most part, it’s a matter of finding what already exists in the wilderness and making use of it. The forest provides, if you know where to look." Her words were straightforward, devoid of any embellishment. She wasn’t trying to impress him, only stating the reality of the situation. "I appreciate your offer, but my needs are somewhat unconventional. The ground may be too cold, but the forest—well, it’s resilient."

Kira studied him for a moment, weighing his offer. "If you truly want to be of use here," she began, a hint of challenge lacing her words, "you’ll need more than gardening skills. Foraging is what keeps these shelves stocked. It’s not just about knowing plants—it’s about understanding the land, knowing where to look, and being able to defend yourself against what dwells in the dark."

She regarded him with a sharp, assessing gaze and a brief look at the armor hidden beneath his cloak. "You seem capable, despite being a humble gardener. Do you know how to forage and defend yourself? Can you navigate the wilds and find what others overlook? If so, then perhaps you could be of some use to me, Gadez Paladice."

She repeated his name, tasting it as if weighing it for truth. Her slight smile remained, polite and controlled, but her eyes held a wary glint. She wasn’t fooled by his polished words, nor did she trust his intentions. But for now, she was content to play along, intrigued to see where this interaction might lead.

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Heya everyone! Just wanted to mention here for the people outside of the Discord - please start wrapping up your scenes when possible. We are going to time skip to 10am for the town meeting soon.

I'll have another Kira post out soon, then one more Flynn post with Orion before the skip. :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: The Royal Cabin

Flynn left the Seluna temple with a scowl, the echo of Desya's invasive presence still gnawing at him. He couldn't shake the unease that settled in his chest, a growing suspicion of the priest and his casual disregard for the sanctity of a person's thoughts. Desya’s claim that anyone entering the temple was, by default, agreeing to have their minds searched felt like a fabrication and a manipulation of trust. Flynn decided he would ask Octavia about it, needing to verify the truth of the so-called Lunarian custom.

As he walked, the memory of Octavia slamming the door after their argument resurfaced, tightening the knot of anxiety in his stomach. He wasn’t looking forward to facing her again, not with the way they’d left things. He felt a pang of guilt thinking about Sunni, who he’d left to handle the aftermath. The thought of what might be waiting for him at home weighed heavily on his mind, and Flynn couldn't help but wonder if his friend had managed to calm Octavia—or if things had only worsened in his absence.

Making his way back toward the cabin, his thoughts churned with a mix of frustration, guilt, and confusion. He knew he could have handled the situation with Octavia better, but it was difficult to navigate with the pressure of their lives hanging in the balance. The weight of responsibility bore down on him constantly, and for Octavia to disregard it as if it were nothing felt like a betrayal. He couldn’t understand how she could be so cavalier about something that kept him up night after night.

Then there was the matter of Pleiades. The image of Octavia comfortably cuddled up with the blight-born disturbed him, stirring a deep discomfort he couldn't shake. Pleiades had assured him that nothing had happened between them, but the reassurance felt hollow. In Aurelia, a woman in bed with another man was scandalous, a clear sign she was seeking a way out of her marriage, regardless of how innocent the situation might be. The impropriety of the situation unsettled Flynn, leaving him questioning why he had ever believed there was a chance they might grow to truly care for one another someday.

His emotions surged wildly, a storm of insecurity and resentment brewing as he continued down gravel pathways, his eyes staring ahead but clearly lost in his thoughts. He barely registered the path before him, his mind too caught up in the turmoil of what had become his life. All of it combined had left him feeling more lost than ever.

Finally reaching his cabin, Flynn eased the door open, the hinges creaking softly as he did. He carefully stepped inside, closing the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert anyone to his return. Pausing, he listened intently for any sign of movement, voices, or the faintest sound that might suggest someone was inside. The house was silent.

Flynn's brow furrowed slightly as he took in the quiet. It was unusual for Octavia to have left the house, as she had rarely ventured out these last two months. While part of him felt a tinge of relief at her absence, the unexpectedness of it stirred an unsettling feeling in him. The thought of how their last interaction had ended, and the guilt of leaving Sunni to handle Octavia alone pressed on his conscience. He couldn’t shake the nervous edge that accompanied the knowledge of her absence, as though it were another sign of the discord brewing between them.

Certain he was alone, Flynn peeked outside again, spotting a guard standing watch nearby. With a nod, he motioned the guard over and instructed him to have a servant fetch bathwater and fill his bath. Satisfied the message would be relayed, Flynn returned inside, heading to his study. The quiet of the house felt eerie, a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. Settling at his desk, he began drafting the speech he would give at the town meeting in a few hours, his focus gradually sharpening as he put pen to paper.

Sitting at his desk, quill in hand, the soft scratch of ink on parchment filled the quiet of his study. For the next thirty minutes, he carefully composed his speech, each word chosen with precision. He felt the gravity of the message he was about to relay and wanted to ensure that it was clear and impactful. The quill dipped and swirled, the parchment slowly filling with his thoughts and intentions. Throughout his speech, Flynn had deliberately included pauses for Octavia to speak about the Late Queen. However, the anxiety in his gut suggested he might need to omit these sections. Octavia had expressed a desire to address the town herself, but her current absence from the house gave him a hint of doubt.

After what felt like a small eternity, Flynn set down the quill and leaned back, letting out a quiet sigh. He read over the speech one final time, his eyes scanning each line to ensure it conveyed the gravity of the situation. Satisfied with his work, he gently folded the parchment and took it with him as he made his way upstairs to his bedchambers.

As he entered, Flynn was greeted by the sight of a steaming bath, just as he had requested. The servant had done their job well, and the warmth from the water beckoned to him. Setting the speech aside, Flynn began to undress, the chill of the day clinging to his skin. He stepped into the bath, and a wave of relief washed over him as the warm water enveloped his body.

For a moment, he simply savored the sensation, letting the heat seep into his muscles and melt away the tension that had built up over the day. He then began to scrub himself clean, ridding his body of the sweat from his morning run and the nerves that had accumulated throughout the day. The water soothed his mind as well as his body, offering him a brief respite from the burdens he carried.

Flynn finished his bath, letting the last of the tension wash away with the water. He dried himself off and donned attire more befitting of his station as Prince. As he fastened the last button, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenges ahead. For a brief moment, he silently thanked Aelios for Octavia’s absence, appreciating the rare opportunity to find some solace and relaxation. Yet, even as he allowed himself this small reprieve, the lingering unease of her absence weighed on him, casting a shadow over the fleeting peace.

Forcing his mind to shift to the task at hand, Flynn thought of his trusted advisor, Orion. Flynn needed his counsel now more than ever—not just for advice on how to address the town, but also to share the burdens of everything that had transpired since they last spoke. With one hour left until the town meeting, Flynn grabbed his sword and left his home, setting out to find Orion and determined to face what lay ahead with the support of his advisor.

9AM

---

_{Mentions: Octavia @The Savant, Orion @Qia}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Herb Shop

Kira moved quietly through her small herb shop in the heart of Dawnhaven, her hands deftly restocking jars of dried leaves, roots, and powders. The shop was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where she could lose herself in the simple, repetitive tasks of grinding herbs and arranging them on shelves. It reminded her of a time long past, when she was still human, hiding in plain sight under a different name, running a similar shop in a different town.

Kira had loathed the assignment when it was first handed to her so many years ago. A top-level assassin, she had honed her skills in the most treacherous of missions, operating in the shadows where her expertise could be fully utilized. Being sent to a small village to pose as an herb shop owner felt like an insult, a waste of her talents. The mundane routine of tending to plants and dealing with townsfolk felt beneath her. But as the days turned into weeks, she found herself unexpectedly drawn to the quiet life. The rhythm of daily tasks, the scent of fresh herbs, and the simplicity of the shop offered a strange sense of peace she hadn’t known she craved. Slowly, the routine she once despised became a refuge, a place where she could momentarily forget the weight of her true identity. All that was torn away from her when the blight came, spreading its dark tendrils through the village, leaving nothing but death and decay in its wake. The fabricated life she had grown to cherish was shattered in an instant, the once-thriving village wiped out, leaving her with nothing but the bitter memory of what had been.

Eventually her thoughts drifted to Desya as she worked, his presence a constant shadow in her mind. She remembered the days when she first met him. The way his gaze had lingered on her, seemingly seeing through the layers of her disguise and igniting a spark that both thrilled and frightened her. The memory of his closeness, of what might have been, stirred a deep ache within her. The feeling unsettled her, so she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the familiar scent of sage and lavender, the comforting ritual of tending to her shop.

The soft chime of the bell above the door suddenly pulled Kira back to the present. Someone had entered the shop. Calmly, she wiped her hands on a nearby cloth and moved to the front of the shop, her senses sharpening as she approached.

“Welcome.” she said, her voice steady as she stepped behind the counter, her eyes immediately assessing the stranger who had just walked in. He was a man she had never seen before, tall with tousled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through the dim candle light of the shop. There was something about his presence that set her on edge, an aura that radiated a subtle but unmistakable sense of danger.

Kira narrowed her fiery orange eyes as she listened to his inquiry, scrutinizing his every move. She took note of the way he moved, the way his eyes scanned the room as if he were searching for something, the armor hidden underneath his cloak, and the way he grabbed her tools as if he were entitled to them. As he continued his monologue, Kira’s expression remained unreadable, her features settled into a calm, unflinching gaze. Her unwavering look was one that was often mistaken for indifference, or even quiet disdain.

Kira’s thoughts churned as she processed the man’s cryptic remarks. It was audacious for him to come in and poetically reference her own past—how she had once died and returned to life. She was unmistakably blight-born, while he was a human who had clearly not had the fear of blight-born instilled into him yet. His words about the Prince biting off more than he could handle was just as daring. The man seemed to have an unsettling familiarity with strangers, and his ease in questioning the prince’s decisions made it clear that he wasn’t afraid of treading on dangerous ground. Kira couldn’t help but admire his nerve, though she thought his approach was both reckless and foolish.

“Humble gardener?” Kira arched a brow, the corners of her lips lifting ever so slightly into a smirk that made it clear she wasn't convinced. “My blazing eyes see you for quite the liar.” she said bluntly, though a hint of playful amusement danced in her gaze now. “I’ve never seen a gardener so armored before.”

Despite the directness of her words, her demeanor remained cool and nonchalant. She leaned a hip against the counter, exuding an effortless calm. “I’m Kira,” she continued, her tone smooth and indifferent. “And what is your name, humble gardener?” She watched him with an almost casual curiosity, making it clear that while she saw through his facade, she had no intention of prying further. After all, everyone had their secrets, and who was she to dig into another's life?

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Lake/Temple of Seluna | Collaboration with @The Savant

Making his way through town with a scowl on his face, Flynn headed southwest toward Frostmoon Lake, where the temple to the Goddess Seluna had been built. He passed by guards and townsfolk without even a glance as they greeted him good morning, not stopping to make pleasantries or even attempting to appear in a good mood.

<sub>I wish you let me be sacrificed.

I would respectfully ask you reconsider your position.

Stop talking to me like I owe you anything, Flynn.

Mister Porter and I spent time in my bedroom, alone.</sub>

The callous and disrespectful words from nearly every conversation he had that morning swirled around in his mind on repeat. They echoed through his thoughts, louder than anyone trying to get his attention in the world outside of his mind. Flynn’s jaw clenched, and he lingered on each sentence, etching the image of their faces as they spoke into his memory. His fists clenched and unclenched as he trudged through town, their voices chaotically weaving through his mind. Perhaps it had been a blessing from Aelios that he had forgotten his sword this morning. Was this what had caused his father’s heart to turn black and cold? Was this how he felt daily? Had Flynn doomed himself to a fate worse than death by creating this Goddess-forsaken town?

Pausing at the lake’s shore, Flynn stared out at the grand mountain range that divided the two kingdoms. The moon's light bounced beautifully off the lake’s icy waters, lightly illuminating his surroundings. Just beyond the range lay the home he had once known, the one he now longed for, and the one that had sentenced him to death.

He stood there for a while trying to steady his racing mind, recalling the life he had lost. The anger that had been burning in his chest all morning slowly turned into an ache. Eventually, finding clarity and calm under the moon's light, he only felt hollow. The hope he once had for this place was proving difficult to hold on to.

Picking up a smooth, rounded rock, Flynn tossed it up in his hands a few times before flicking it as hard as he could across the water. The rock skipped nine times before plunging to the depths below, disturbing the calm waters and sending ripples across the lake. At one time, he thought he could be the rock for these people, sending out waves of change and positivity throughout the land, as if he could make a difference. But now it just felt like he was also plunging into the darkness below, and it was all for naught. The ripples he thought he could make here were fruitless—a naive idea for Princelings who thought they could control their fate, as if he alone could change the will of Goddesses. A fool's errand.

_{I hope another solution might be revealed. Aelios’ will is as vast as the sky - one cannot see every star in a single night.}

The image of Tia’s note flashed in Flynn’s mind, a gentle reminder to hold onto hope and that he was not the only one carrying the weight of it. He grimaced at the thought, closing his eyes as if the memory caused him physical pain. Shaking his head, he reopened his eyes. The Priestess was either lying, or she was just as foolish.

After a few more silent moments, Flynn turned toward the temple of Seluna. With a deadpan expression, calmer now with the numbed-out feeling in his soul, Flynn made his way across the pier that led into the temple.

Hearing someone not far away caused his eyes to open, it wasn’t their physical sounds that caught his attention, but the mental anguish of jumbled whispered thoughts. Angry. Unpleasant. All around conflicted and torn. It was hard to make out any distinction of what they were saying though his deep blue eyes moved over to see the prince of Aurelia standing at the shore. The man was meditating near the water out on the deck of the moon temple. Was the prince gracing him with a visit this morning?

The moon priest watched the younger man as he picked up a rock and skipped it across the peaceful lake. Under the moon. Standing up the religious man decided that the prince couldn’t see him in short sleeves and pants, so he grabbed his holy garb, and put them back on. The colors of the night sky dressing him beautifully with gold accents of stars and the moon around the dressings and collar. A whisper left his lips, “Seluna, bless me with patience for the prince of Aurelia.”

By the time that Flynn would have approached the front doors of the moon temple, Desya was standing within the portal, and waiting for him. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Prince Flynn Astaros. I do hope this morning is blessed for you,” Desya spoke clearly and foundationally as he stared at the prince. His eyes analyzed every little detail of the man that approached him. His sun-kissed hair, emerald eyes, and tanner skin was a harsher contrast to the usual look of the Lunarians — pale as snow appearances and moon or mid-night sky kissed hair.

"Good morning, Priest Chanamoux." Flynn greeted, bowing his head respectfully before meeting the moon priest's eyes, sizing up the man as they came face to face. Flynn had never met or even heard of Desya Chanamoux before, but he was more built than he would have imagined for someone of the faith. The priests in Aurelia tended to be on the thinner side, frail and lacking muscle to serve them in a fight. This man, on the other hand, seemed like he could hold his own if he needed to. Subconsciously, Flynn appreciated him for it.

"The pleasure is all mine." Flynn offered a courteous smile and extended his hand for a handshake. "How fared your journey?"

“Please,” A faint smile appeared along with a light chuckle. “You can call me Father Desya or Moon Priest Desya. No reason to be so formal with me, Prince Flynn,” The man was playing a hand of tolerance and general kindness since he needed to yet he would have corrected anyone lesser, more sternly. Flynn was the prince and ruler of this beginning town of Dawnhaven, so he thought he could give him some amount of respect — at least face to face.

Desya looked at the man’s hands, “I’m sorry to do this, but I do not care to touch people,” The man’s midnight blue eyes glanced at the tanner man’s hand before looking into his green eyes. Anyone that had enough life experience could tell that the Moon Priest was giving general information but there might be lingering evils in the reasoning on why he was telling Flynn that he doesn’t like touching people — he didn’t want to touch someone let alone it being an Aurelian soul.

Holding back a puzzled expression, Flynn simply gave a singular nod of understanding and let his hand fall back to his side. It was a peculiar thing to have an aversion to, but nothing that Flynn would find unacceptable. “Very well, Father Desya.”

Dipping his head to show respect, “I hope you understand,” Desya felt a little more protected since his hands were intertwined together and all of that was hidden by his darker robes. “And, my journey was fine except for when I arrived here.” The moon priest seemed to pause as he stared into those emerald eyes of the prince. Letting those words sink in. His deeper voice went quiet as he stared. Deciding that it was time to break that silence, he sighed, but he couldn’t find himself to force a smile or any other pleasantries. “Kira, a blightborn under your protection and in your town's care, ripped me from my mount and dragged me into the forest last night. I did have hopes that Dawnhaven could maybe show me another side of those abominations, though I sadly have to inform you that it has done the exact opposite. It has only strengthened the foundation on why they should be strung up to trees or have their head on poles in the outer parts of civilization,”

The moon priest stepped out of the way and gestured for Flynn to come in, “You are welcome to come into the temple, if you want, it isn’t much warmer inside. I apologize. The fires only began to start running.”

Flynn furrowed his brows as he listened to the Moon Priest recount his encounter with one of Dawnhaven’s blight-born. While Kira’s actions were troubling, it was Desya’s vehemently expressed disdain for those afflicted with blight that sent a chill down Flynn’s spine. The palpable hatred in Desya’s words made him question why the capital had sent such a man to Dawnhaven. It only fueled Flynn’s suspicions about the King’s true intentions.

“I deeply apologize for her actions, Father.” Flynn stated as he followed Desya into the temple. Mentally, he made a note to speak with Kira about the matter. If she had wanted to, she could have ended Desya’s life effortlessly; he was well aware of her capabilities. She could have taken him in a blink of an eye and yet here he was. Alive to tell the tale. “I will ensure she is reprimanded and monitored closely.” He reassured the Priest, his eyes falling on the cold moon pool in the middle of the temple—beautiful but far less inviting than the eternal flame inside the temple of Aelios. “Kira is…” he hesitated, reflecting on his experiences with her over the past two months. “Not usually so uncivil. I will address this with her personally.”

“I assure you, it is of utmost importance to me that everyone in Dawnhaven remains safe.” He added, his eyes returning to meet Desya’s.

The moon priest had no reason to hide his disdain of blightborn from the Aurelian prince — his midnight blue eyes looked over the sun-kissed prince as they stood near the sacred waters of the temple. A glittering luminescent effect was caused by the moon’s reflection on the water, causing the room to have ethereal dancing lights on the walls, and a peacefulness in Desya’s eyes. He was listening to the other man’s thoughts and words. “Blightborn cannot be civilized, prince Flynn. They all get hungry at the end of the day.”

No hesitation was in his words. “People always want to see the good in others, but I believe that could be a possible downfall for you. You want to keep humanity in the blightborn but they are not humans. It makes me question your stance, if you want to keep people safe, how are the blightborn of this town being so tolerable and not hungry?” Desya was becoming suspicious of the man’s words. His statements of excuses and defending Kira. He wanted to protect everyone though he was protecting no one. Was Flynn so shielded from the world and so trusting that he didn’t understand what the blightborn were? Monsters. Ambinations.

Flynn kept his eyes on the Priest as he spoke, trying to consider his words, though he became distracted. A subtle tingling began at the back of Flynn’s mind, accompanied by a slight blurring at the periphery of his vision. It was an almost imperceptible shift, only there for a brief moment, something an untrained person might easily overlook. Flynn, however, had been rigorously trained for this exact scenario. Psychic magic came easily to the Lunarians, and the King of Aurelia had been well aware of it. “They will use subterfuge; you must be prepared,” his father had told him countless times, subjecting the Prince to grueling training that tried to break his mind. Psychic magic was notoriously difficult to detect, but there were ways to spot it if you paid attention to the faint cues your body gave you. Flynn's training allowed him to recognize these subtle tells, keeping him alert and mindful of his thoughts.

Flynn’s gaze remained steady on the Priest, his expression unfazed, but now fully aware that Desya was pushing far beyond regular boundaries. Just as his father had warned that the Lunarians would. For now, Flynn would allow the Priest to prod his thoughts while he tried to gauge what the Priest was looking for. It was a bold move for their first meeting. Another problem added to his growing list.

Desya made his way around the pool as he kept his eyes on Flynn, he went over, and carefully lit an incense by candle flame before putting it in a holder. It would smell of sandalwood and lavender. He was thinking and listening. He thought about telling the man how he had run into quite a few blightborn after the infection happened almost a decade ago. How he would be at other temples, not the capital, and how he met quite a few. Everyone he came across was being held by the church or guard for treason — how he had killed a handful or two, maybe more, himself.

“I doubt that I have been the only one attacked and I was attacked while being able to see the borders of the town. Clearly, you are not keeping everyone safe, especially if they are heading towards Dawnhaven or going past it,” Desya wondered if Flynn and Kira had a friendship of sorts because of the prince’s thoughts and words. He wondered if the man could care less about a Lunarian perishing compared to an Aurelian or even a blightborn. There would be no surprise there.

“Respectfully, Father, I hold no dominion over what happens outside these walls,” Flynn stated bluntly, his eyes slightly narrowed on Desya. “The King’s army has already killed a handful of blight-born who sought refuge in Dawnhaven, but they were caught outside the walls. There was nothing I could do.” Images of mangled blight-born flashed in his mind, a grim reminder of the soldiers' brutality. “The blight-born are free to do as they please outside these walls. Here, however, I demand civility. I warn them that I cannot protect them if either kingdom sees them as a threat. Their salvation can be taken from them in an instant if they do not behave. Once they leave this place, their fate is their own.”

Flynn’s gaze moved to the incense that Desya had lit, watching the smoke rise toward the ceiling, where the open dome revealed the starlit sky above. “Perhaps you are right, though.” He met Desya’s eyes again, a slightly softer look in his own. “Perhaps seeing the good in others will be my downfall.” With everything that had happened today, the idea seemed possible. “But I believe you will see that blight-born were all human once. Helping them regain their lives and assume some kind of normalcy again has been one of my greatest achievements.” He spoke truthfully, pride evident in his voice. “People deserve second chances.” He nodded, his gaze returning to the moon pool. Despite the difficulties he had endured lately, he found that he truly believed in what he was saying.

“I will ensure that the blight-born no longer create a hunting ground right outside our walls, however. You are right, it is unacceptable.”

A sigh left Desya’s lips, “I am graced by your presence, but I am wondering… where is your wife? Princess Octavia from Lunaris.”

Flynn looked back toward the moonpool, trying his best to steel his mind against Desya’s intrusion, though it was difficult to keep the feeling of intense conflict at bay. A memory of Octavia’s face pleading with him at the door of their home flashed through his mind. “As I am sure you are aware, she is grieving,” he said, stating what truth he could. “Word of the late Queen just reached us.” He frowned, glancing up at Desya again. “The meeting today is to inform the rest of Dawnhaven, those who have not come from the capital.” He studied the Priest’s face, searching for any sign that he might know more about the situation. “It seems the news has been sequestered quite well.”

“Everyone is for Queen Antoinette,” Desya stated plainly as he let the words of the man swirl inside of him. The man could agree to disagree with the prince. Continue on another path of conversation. He might be right, that everyone deserves a second chance, but at the same time — he couldn’t bring himself to fully compare or accept that stance on the world. He had seen what people are capable of inside and outside of the church. Not everyone deserves second chances.

A chuckle left the man while a thought crossed his mind. He shook his head, “I don’t think you understand the weight of your words in this situation, Prince Flynn. Saying the news is being sequestered, is an understatement, and I can assure you. Not everyone in the capital even knows of her passing,” Desya knew about how all the Queen’s guards were sent away or had other “obligations” around the time of her death. Lord Coswain was one of them and he couldn’t help but allow himself to get snappy with the high ranked guard.

It was amusing, it wasn’t the first time that the king had blinded his people with information, or anything else. Desya could bring up a handful of times when the king would say something happened this way and you would believe the king except when you witness or other people witnessed events differently.

Our farms are not lacking. They are perfectly fine.

Blight did not reach inside the capital's boundaries.

The church is not beating children or mistreating them in any way. They are saints!

A blessed ceremony is this week. One of love and union.

What happened to my first wife? Oh, she is fine though we want the royal family to grow! To be blessed by Seluna with many sons,

The list of many different excuses or turned around situations filtered through his mind. “It might be out of my place, but the church was told about the Queen’s passing before anyone else because we were supposed to hold a private ceremony of her passing, so she was at least officiated by Seluna’s eyes to the next world.” He explained while he let his fingers touch the wall. Feeling each curve, crack, and bump. “I don't believe anything natural happened in her death.”

Flynn raised his brows at Desya’s words, not because he was surprised by the implication that the Queen hadn’t died of natural causes—he had suspected as much based on what he knew of her. But what intrigued him was Desya's implied distrust of the King of Lunaris. It was an unexpected revelation, a stark contrast to the close relationship between the royal family and the church in Aurelia. Flynn, momentarily forgetting to mind his thoughts while Desya was listening, began to wonder if this distrust was widespread within the clergy or if it was unique to the Priest. Perhaps, in Desya, Flynn had found an unlikely ally.

“The Princess mentioned that her mother was well loved by the kingdom,” Flynn said, recalling his conversation with his wife, the memory tinged with the comforting aroma of the brown chai she had prepared. “What possible reason could there be for someone to kill her?” he asked, carefully avoiding any direct mention of the King. Though his suspicions leaned in that direction, he wasn’t ready to make any accusations without proof.

Desya stood there and looked at the man, listening to the thoughts, and considering if he should bring any of his opinions to light. He wouldn’t emphasize anything that wasn’t vocally stated at the moment. An unlikely ally, was an interesting thought indeed. “She was extraordinarily loved. I sometimes believed that the people thought Queen Antoinette was a physical body of the moon goddess Seluna,” he confessed his thoughts but it was true. She was beautiful, graceful, and cared for everyone unlike the harsh contrast of how the King was viewed by his people — fear.

“There could be plenty of reasons…” Desya’s thoughts trailed off as he considered all the options. “Someone wanting to overthrow the royal family, others wanting to crush the hope of the peasants and suffering, to possibly marry someone that can have children, and so much more,” The priest spoke. “Let’s say your Queen, well… princess was getting in the way of things, there was no changing it. No other option in your mind. What would you do? The only option left being to deal with it or dispose of that individual,” His broad shoulders faced Flynn as they stood on either side of the moon pool.

Flynn mulled over Desya’s words, picturing a scenario where Octavia stood in the way of his own plans. The mere thought of disposing of her made his stomach turn. He couldn’t fathom such an action. Yet, Desya’s scenarios struck a chord. He could easily envision the King of Lunaris eliminating his wife to gain an advantage or someone else attempting to overthrow the royal family. Usurping attempts weren’t unheard of in either royal lineage, but the idea that this was what had happened to the Queen seemed far-fetched. Not when considering that the King had already remarried and had a child on the way. The evidence pointed too clearly in one direction—it had to be him.

Desya began to move his one hand which was causing water to move, “There are plenty of reasons to kill a Queen and even more reasons to kill a King. Sometimes, you have to realize that not everyone has the same perspectives, Flynn. Not everyone sees the good in others or second chances or other possibilities. They only see the worst,” The water in the moon pool was rising up and showing liquid formed individuals. Shakily and horribly, since he was only using one hand to manipulate the water. The individuals were clearly fighting and chaos was pursuing.

“Humans love chaos, prince Flynn. If you give them enough reason to distract each other. You don’t have to keep trying anymore,” The water fell down and splashed a little bit before Desya looked up to the moon. “Now, what do you think of that? That someone, possibly of importance, wants to cause chaos so he can do whatever he wants in the borders that protect him?”

Flynn observed as Desya manipulated the water, the moonlight reflecting off its surface in a mesmerizing display. Although it was a harsh reality to live in, the Prince knew that Desya was right. Not all people could be redeemed, no matter how much he wished otherwise. He wanted to believe in the potential for goodness in everyone, but even his father had taught him that some were beyond saving.

The thought of Willis, their newest blight-born, crossed his mind briefly. Flynn couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that no matter how much he tried to help, or how many chances he offered, Willis might be one of those who couldn’t be reformed. Flynn struggled with this inner conflict—the desire to be a compassionate leader who believed in second chances, and the fear of being forced to become an uncaring ruler who had to rule with an iron fist and accept that some were simply lost causes. There had to be a balance, a middle ground between hope and realism, between mercy and strength. He knew he had to find it somehow, for the sake of those who depended on him. He had started this journey desperately wanting to have hope for people, to see them succeed in reclaiming their lives, but the burden of leadership weighed heavily on him, forcing him to question if his hope was misplaced.

“I suppose I would not be surprised.” Flynn replied, glancing at his shoes as droplets of water landed there. “Unimpeded power is tempting for many.”

“I appreciate your insight, Father Desya.” Flynn nodded once in appreciation as he met the Moon Priest’s dark eyes again.

Listening to the thoughts of the other, Desya remained quiet, since he understood his words were heavier than most would appreciate, especially a prince. The man, to an extent, did not care if his words were considered harsh in the presence of royals or not. He was an individual that didn’t necessarily hide his own thoughts or dislikes from others — opinions - opinions — other’s didn’t need sugar coated words in his eyes. He surely did not want them himself. “I do not mean to burden your mind, Prince Flynn. I want the best for the Lunarian people.”

That left a long pause since he went into thought. Did he want more for other people? Indirectly, yes. Wanting the Lunarian people to be safe and this prophecy to be figured out, the Aurelian people would benefit from it as well. Personally, he was conflicted with the thoughts of Aurelians, yet one of his first experiences wasn’t going horrible. Maybe. Just maybe. If the vast majority appeared to be like how their prince was in behavior, he might consider not hating them as much, but he was quickly disgusted by that thought. “I never thought I would be saying this,” A sigh left his lips while he thought about it for a second more. “If I want better for the Lunarian people and this prophecy to be figured out to cure the world. Indirectly, I want the best for the Aurelian people.” He spoke out firmly as he stared into the emerald eyes of the prince on the other side of the moon pool. That meant working with the prince, the princess, the religious representative that the Aurelians had, and the people of Dawnhaven. I cannot deal with the blightborn. He thought about it.

Struggling with thoughts and vocals, Desya grumbled a bit with those thoughts, “It is for the greater good —” His words were testing as if he didn’t want them to be true. “Both religions and people… might… have to work together so not everyone dies in the end,” Though his pessimistic personality was clashing with faith and the slightest bit of hope. One was telling him that there was no way the prophecy would fix anything even if it was fulfilled while the latter was telling him to still have hope. To still know that the world could be saved.

His perspective of doing things for the greater good was highly influencing his words at the moment but he did believe them even if it was a struggle to get out. The man might have not cared for Aurelians and it would be an adjustment for him but his hate for the Lunarian royal family, specifically the king, was greater along with his idealistic hopes to cleanse the Churches of Seluna.

Flynn allowed a faint smile to touch his lips as he watched Desya struggle to find the right words. “I believe you might be right,” he said, agreeing and yet curious, wondering if Desya himself even believed the words he was grappling with. The nations of Lunaris and Aurelia had been at odds for centuries, their histories marked by conflict and mistrust. Yet, hearing that the Priest was open to cooperation gave Flynn a glimmer of hope. It was crucial—if they were to survive the trials ahead, both kingdoms would have to find a way to work together. “Once you’ve had a chance to settle in, you should meet with the Aurelian Priestess. Her name is Tia. She arrived just yesterday.”

“I must attend to other matters, Father, but it was a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Dawnhaven.” Flynn offered the Priest a slight bow of respect before turning to leave. As he walked away, he glanced back over his shoulder. “And Father,” he added, his tone carrying a quiet edge, “stay out of my head next time.” The subtle warning left no doubt that Desya's intrusion had not gone unnoticed—and would not be tolerated again.

Desya seemed to keep an emotionless and unreadable face when the prince turned around and threatened him in such a vague and subtle way. Wondering if he should choose to ignore the man’s words or not. “I hope you are not threatening a moon priest while being in the house of Seluna, Prince Flynn,” He sighed slightly at his own words. “I won’t tolerate that next time, either,” Desya stated without hesitation.

He went to step away then looked at the tiles, “As long as you or anyone else steps into this building. You silently agree to such matters.” A faint smile appeared on the man’s expression when he said his words with such certainty.”Please, if you do not want that, invite me outside of these walls and I will try to respect your boundaries,” Desya could only respect the man’s boundaries so much.

Flynn paused and turned to face the Priest, his eyes narrowing as a forced smile curled on his lips. "Oh, it wasn’t a threat." he said flatly, his gaze locked onto Desya. "I'll be sure to remember that... agreement. Seems I wasn’t aware of this particular Lunarian custom in the Temple of Seluna." Flynn did nothing to directly threaten the man, but the slight sarcasm in his tone was a clear indication of his skepticism. He'd never heard of such a rule and doubted its authenticity. He’d have to ask Octavia about this later. "Please be sure the other Aurelians are informed of this before they step foot inside—if you’d be so kind." Without waiting for a response, Flynn turned and left the temple, his minor annoyance lingering in the air.