The Muse

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Temple of Aelios / Hot Springs

As Kira entered the temple, she hadn’t expected to be greeted by a shirtless Gadez, of all people. Her steps faltered briefly as her gaze settled on the familiar man from a week prior, his muscular tattooed chest illuminated by the glow of the eternal flame in the center of the room. She raised a brow at his words, taking in the sight with mild amusement as he greeted her with a smirk.

“That’s one way to keep warm during the storm.” she remarked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips now. Her tone was playful, but the implication wasn’t lost on her. He had slept with the Priestess. It was only slightly surprising—Aurelians had always been known for their looser sense of sexual boundaries—though Kira hadn’t been aware that Priestesses were allowed to dabble in such frivolous acts. Nonetheless, Kira couldn’t blame her. Good for them, she thought.

Kira’s fiery gaze lingered on Gadez for a moment longer, her eyes finding the intricate tattoo sprawled across his chest. It was unlike any symbolism she had encountered before—a curious design that piqued her interest. At first glance, it appeared simple—just a series of geometric shapes—but the longer she stared, the more it seemed to hold purpose.

Kira's brows furrowed as she studied the design. She had encountered many symbols in her time—glyphs of ancient magic, runes tied to forgotten rituals—but this one was foreign to her. There was something almost ritualistic about it, like it carried a deeper meaning—something hidden.

What was its significance? A natural curiosity pulled at her instincts, but she resisted the urge to ask. Whatever that tattoo meant, it wasn’t her business. Still, it stuck in her mind.

Kira’s attention shifted as the Priestess emerged from the back rooms, fully dressed but looking much more frail and delicate than Kira had imagined a Priestess of Aelios to be. The woman looked tired, her steps light, her presence meek. She had never met a Priestess of Aelios before, and frankly, she had expected someone... stronger.

In the back of her mind, she heard her commander, the Dreadmaster, reminding her not to underestimate anyone.

"Priestess." Kira greeted her briefly, her tone polite yet detached. Her eyes flicked back to Gadez, who seemed to be in no rush to clothe himself, intentionally taking his time as if to draw all attention onto himself.

“I need some warmth as well.” she said as she began to walk across the temple. Her boots echoed lightly against the wooden floor as she passed the eternal flame—a symbol she had grown to despise. Aelios’ guiding light and warm embrace seemed to have forgotten her long ago.

“Not all of us had a partner to keep us warm.” she said dryly as she neared the back door, half-joking. Without waiting for a response, she opened the door and stepped outside into the cold once more, making her way to the hot springs.

The warmth beckoned as she descended the stone steps to the larger, lower-level public bath. She longed to shake off the lingering chill and, for a moment, escape the isolation that had pressed down on her throughout the storm. As she reached the edge of the spring, Kira quietly shed her cloak and clothing, folding and placing them neatly on top of a nearby boulder. The cool air sent a shiver down her spine, contrasting sharply with the warmth that rose up from the spring. Her skin, pale against full moons light overhead, bore the marks of her past—small scars scattered across her chest, torso, stomach and hips, some barely noticeable while others stood out more prominently, each one telling a silent story of her struggles and survival.

Stepping into the hot spring, the heat wrapped around her, instantly soothing her tense muscles as she sank deeper into the water. Yet, even as it eased her body, the weight of solitude remained. Somehow, she found herself isolated again, by her own doing, as if she had forgotten how to be around people altogether.

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_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel, Tia @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Alchemy Chambers/Eris' Home

During the blizzard, Eris quickly became a woman obsessed, barely stopping for sleep or food as research consumed her. Tia’s words about Willis’ blood echoed in her mind, urging her to research it. She had no idea why a Priestess of Aelios would be interested in such things, but Eris wasn’t one to question the word of a Priestess—not openly, anyway.

On the second day, bundled in Ashe’s fire-woven coat, she braved the storm and hurried to the tavern in search of Willis. She needed that blood sample, and no amount of snow or cold was going to stop her.

Inside the tavern, she found construction workers huddled by the hearth for warmth, their faces lit by the fire’s glow. Yet it was Willis who stood out, creepily seated by himself in a dimly lit corner, his red eyes glowing as he stared at the workers. His blank, unblinking gaze had sent a chill down her spine. His demeanor made her nervous, but she reminded herself of the mission she had come here with. She couldn’t hesitate now. The risk had to be taken.

Summoning her courage, she approached him and, in a quiet voice, explained her request: a few vials of his blood for research. To her surprise, Willis agreed without question. Eris thanked him profusely as they found a private room upstairs. Something in the back of her mind screamed as she followed the man into a room—was she insane?! Being alone with this creature once again?! Surely he would take the opportunity to kill her this time.

Nervously, Eris laid out all her tools on a dresser top. She had come prepared, her satchel packed with vials, needles, and everything she needed to collect his blood. With hands that only slightly trembled, Eris extracted the samples as quickly as she could, though she couldn't help but feel uneasy as she drew dark, purple-tinged liquid from him.

For a moment, she thought it might be the blight itself and she had just made the biggest mistake of her entire life. Her heart had jumped into her chest, and she was sure Willis could hear it, but thankfully nothing seemed to happen after she drew out the first vial of blood. It was thicker than human blood, which made the process take longer than she would have liked, but as soon as she had enough, she thanked Willis again and hurried home, eager to begin her work.

The next few days blurred together. She hardly slept, barely ate, and rarely left her study—she was completely and utterly fixated on finding what was so special about Willis’ blood. She analyzed each vial carefully, noting the purple hue, unusual consistency, and how it interacted with other objects, though she didn’t dare touch the liquid with her own hands. For days Eris worked for hours on end, her eyes burning from lack of sleep, jotting down every observation in a rapidly growing pile of notes. Frustratingly, no matter what tool she used to test it, the blood refused to react any differently than a human's blood. It had all been predictable. It was perplexing, but Eris refused to quit.

By the fifth day, desperation and curiosity pushed her to try something new. Against her better judgment, Eris began experimenting with magic. Without the sun to fuel her mana, she knew this was a dangerous endeavor, but she cast aside her worries. She could not call herself a researcher if she could not explore from all angles.

The first few tries had yielded little to no results. Fire, water and air magic did nothing unique to the blood sample. She could feel her own life force being pulled with each new experiment, but she pressed on.

With trembling hands, Eris infused the sample with light magic, her own energy encompassing the blood and lighting up the room in a purple glow. To her astonishment, the blood reacted almost immediately. As if it were a living thing, it shifted and pulled itself toward a sealed bottle that contained an old, withered carrot crop—a sample she had taken from blight-infected fields. Thin, purple veins ran through the crop, faint but unmistakable. The light-infused blood seemed to sense it, though it struggled to reach the tainted crop through its glass vial.

Eris began moving the vial, and every time, the blood twisted and leaned, always pointing toward the blighted crop like a compass drawn north. Her heart raced at the discovery. Tia had been correct. There was some connection between the blood and the blight. How did she know? How could she know? What else did she know?

Eris’ mind raced with possibilities, but maintaining the light magic was draining. She could feel her strength ebbing away with each passing moment, but she pushed herself to keep going. She documented everything as fast as she could, until her body could no longer take it.

On the morning of the sixth day, exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she collapsed, the vial slipping from her hand as she passed out.

When Eris awoke on the floor of her study, the shattered vial lay beside her, yet the blood had vanished. Her gaze shifted to the blighted crop, and her eyes widened in shock. Dried streaks of purple liquid coated the top of the glass jar containing the blighted plant. The blood had clearly attempted to envelop the crop, but the jar had held it at bay. Now, without the infusion of light magic, the blood had lost its gelatinous form, leaving only the remnants.

Weak and feverish, Eris was forced to put aside her research. She barely had the strength to move, her body aching from the toll the magic had taken on her, but she eventually found the way to her bedroom. On her bed, she curled up in Ashe’s coat, the magical garment the only thing keeping her from freezing in the cold room. It was the only comfort she had as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

When the blizzard finally broke on the seventh day, though still fatigued, Eris forced herself out of bed. Her limbs felt heavy, and her thoughts were clouded, but her determination had not wavered. Slowly, she made her way downstairs, making a beeline for her study, but she hesitated when a knock came at the door. Through the closed door, a guard informed her of a feast being held at the tavern, but Eris barely registered his words. There was no time for feasts or rest. She had something far more important to do.

Disheveled, her hair in disarray and her blue dress rumpled underneath Ashe’s coat, she quickly gathered her notes, undeterred by her appearance. She needed to tell the Prince—he had to know what she had found. It wasn’t a cure, but it was something. Something important.

Clutching her notes tightly, Eris stumbled out of her home, her eyes scanning for the guard who had just come to alert her of the feast. Spotting his footprints in the snow, she bolted after him, nearly tripping and falling twice as she struggled to keep her balance. "Wait!" she called out, almost losing her footing on a patch of uneven snow. Her breath came in quick, visible puffs as she finally caught up.

“Have you seen the Prince?” she asked breathlessly, her voice urgent and tinged with exhaustion, the dark circles under her eyes hinting at her lack of sleep. She gripped the notes tightly, as if afraid they might slip away. “It’s urgent—I need to speak with him right away.” Her words came out in a rush, and she barely paused to breathe, eyes darting around in search of any sign of the Prince.

The guard blinked, surprised at her frazzled appearance. "A-... Are you quite alright, Miss Hightower? Are you... wearing fire?”

Eris narrowed her eyes, impatience flickering in her expression. She didn’t have time for this! “Yes, yes, I’m fine! Have you seen the Prince or not?”

The guard hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting briefly to the notes she clutched, before answering. "I believe he’s gone to the tavern for the feast. Should I send word that you’re looking for him?"

“No." Eris shook her head, “I’ll find him myself. Thank you.” Without waiting for a response, she turned swiftly, heading towards the Eye of the Beholder, haphazardly rushing off ahead of the guard.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eastern Town Gate

Through knee-deep snow, Nyla willed herself to take another step. Her body cried for rest, but she trudged on, her gloved fingers trembling as they pulled her teal and gold colored cloak closer to her body.

Another step.

A large fur-lined hood veiled her face, keeping her tanned skin safe from the bite of this goddess-forsaken land. Despite buying the warmest clothing she could find in the capital’s market, it wasn’t enough. The cold seeped through her thick layers, chilling her to the bone. Her toes hurt beneath her boots and she actively daydreamed about the warmth of Aelios’ sacred hot springs, enveloped by her grace’s warmth.

Just one more step…

Her breathing became labored as her legs shook with each high step into the pristine white snow that covered the entire trail to Dawnhaven. She silently cursed it with every step, hating it for everything it was and wishing for Aelios to melt it all away.

This journey had been excruciating from the very beginning. Her decision to flee the capital had been impeccably timed, leading her right into a blizzard as soon as she entered the mountains. She’d never experienced such ferocity from nature before. She had traveled far and wide in Aurelia, but this landscape was unforgiving. Growing up in the heat of the desert lands made snow feel unnatural and hellish. If not for her new transformation, she surely would have frozen to death by now.

The horse she’d stolen hadn’t lasted long, either. One night, while Nyla sheltered in an abandoned home, a blighted creature tore the poor animal apart. The rest of her journey had to be done by foot or flight. She flew when she could—transforming into a butterfly made of light or shrinking down in size so that her own wings might be able to carry her weight. However, with the blizzard winds, flying seemed more difficult than walking. And it drained her. Made her hungry in ways she couldn’t explain. If she lost too much energy she’d become mean and devoid of emotion. Feral.

Just yesterday she had come across a weary traveler, taking shelter in the same abandoned home she had sought out. She had tried… she really did. She made conversation with the man, helped him make a fire and tried to suffice herself off the bread he offered to eat. But her own needs had won. By morning, the man was dead.

Pausing, Nyla leaned heavily against the rough bark of an oak tree, pressing her icy gloves into the ancient wood. Her raven hair, the ends slick with melted snow, clung to her face as she shut her eyes, just for a moment, letting the cold air fill her lungs as she tried to steady herself. Luckily the blizzard had broken by this morning, but exhaustion still settled deep into her bones. She’d need to find somewhere to rest for the day, though she didn’t want to stop. If she pushed herself much further, she’d need to…

Opening her pale blue eyes, she looked ahead, her breath catching as they settled upon a wooden gate flanked by familiar Aurelian guards. Their polished armor gleamed beneath the full moon overhead. A plume of ghostly mist escaped Nyla’s lips as she exhaled a sigh of relief, the warmth of her breath meeting the cold of the air. She had never held any love for Aurelian guards in the past, but they were a welcome sight now. A small flicker of renewed energy surged through her. Dawnhaven’s gates were just ahead, and beyond them, warmth! She had finally made it.

Just as she was about to move towards the gate, she froze. Her heart skipped a few beats as she remembered how she would immediately appear to them. Skin glittering with golden flecks, sharp pointed ears, monarch wings attached to her back and black horns sitting atop her head. She bit her lower lip in thought, staring at the guards who took notice of her then.

“Who goes there?!”

Despite her horns and wings being covered by her cloak, the thought of revealing her true nature to strangers was unsettling. She knew Dawnhaven was a sanctuary for people like her, but… her heart ached. She did not want to reveal anything at all. Not yet, anyway. And what if Flynn…

Nyla closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath as she focused on the familiar sensation of transformation. She reached within herself, tapping into the energy she had consumed yesterday, channeling it to shift her appearance back to her former human self. The change was instantaneous, and only a tad bit painful. Her head was free of horns, her ears human, her back no longer bore wings, and the shimmering golden skin that defined her blight-born identity had faded to a more familiar shade. For now, she felt a sense of relief, wanting to blend in, to be seen as she once was. She knew this transformation wouldn’t last forever; the energy it required would eventually drain her, forcing her to reveal the truth beneath the facade. Yet for the moment, she embraced the comfort of her humanity, the warmth of familiarity.

“Identify yourself and state your business, traveler!”

With a surge of excitement, Nyla moved forward, her heart racing as she approached the guards. The cool air brushed against her face as she removed her hood, revealing her human self. “Please,” she called out as she grew nearer, “My name is Nyla Zafira. I’ve traveled through a blizzard and come from the capital. I seek a warm bed and a hot meal.” She forced a smile, though the ache in her body gnawed at her with every movement.

The two guards exchanged a glance, their eyes assessing Nyla as she drew closer. After a moment, one of them stepped forward, his expression softening for a beautiful woman. “You’re fortunate to find Dawnhaven then, miss.”

He gestured for her to enter, his tone becoming more welcoming. “You’ll want to head to the Eye of the Beholder. The Prince is holding a feast there. They’ll have beds and plenty of meals to share.”

Nyla’s heart caught in her chest at the mention of Flynn, the Prince, her ex-lover. A mix of longing and apprehension gripped her, twisting like a knife in her chest. Part of her wanted to avoid him, yet the other part ached to see him again.

“Thank you.” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. As the guards stepped aside, permitting her to pass through the gates, Nyla offered them a grateful nod before heading in the direction they indicated. Though she had been dreaming of a warm bed for weeks, her thoughts were now consumed by what she would say to the man who awaited her here.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Boop :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Boop :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Royal Cabin | Time: 9am

Over the course of the blizzard, Flynn found himself in a relatively quiet and reflective state. Amaya rarely emerged from her room, leaving him alone to occupy his thoughts and fill the long hours. He often sat by the fire to read, write, or just stare into the flames while his mind ran wild. The fire was his constant companion, and Flynn kept it going with a steady supply of logs, carefully tending it to ensure the cabin stayed warm.

By the second day, Flynn tried to busy himself with various tasks. Placing a chessboard near the fireplace, Flynn set up the pieces with the hope that Amaya might want to play a game with him. He was sorely mistaken. On most days, he ended up moving the pieces himself, playing both sides in a game that became more about distraction than strategy.

Occasionally, Flynn would converse with the royal guards and let them inside to warm up before they returned to their shift. They spoke about the storm, the state of Dawnhaven, the blight-born’s gracious volunteer work to help the guards during the blizzard, and at times they would even entertain Flynn with a game or two of chess.

On the third day, guilt weighed on Flynn for making the cooking staff brave the relentless blizzard to cook meals morning and night. Determined to take matters into his own hands, he attempted to cook. The results were mixed, the kitchen often left in disarray after each try. On three occasions, he managed to produce an edible meal and would proudly set aside a plate for Amaya. However, by his final attempt on day six, he forgot a batch of pancakes on the stove, turning them into charcoal. Smoke filled the cabin, forcing him to crack open a window despite the blizzard. After that, the kitchen staff insisted that they do the cooking.

As the days passed, Flynn found himself sitting by the fire and staring out the window watching snowfall more often, silently contemplating his next move. The search for the cure and the prophecy weighed heavily on him, gnawing at his thoughts. If he wasn’t staring at the fire or the snow, he’d find himself staring at the statue he had been gifted by Ashe, his eyes locked onto the visage of Aelios. Placed beside her was the statue of Selune, the two twin goddesses staring back at him. At times, he could’ve sworn they were smirking at him. Eventually he took both statues and put them into an empty kitchen cabinet, hoping to forget that they were even there.

When the storm started to show signs of dying down, Flynn instructed the guards to prepare a feast to be held by the tavern, a gathering for when it was safe for people to emerge from their homes. Though grand gestures had never been his way, it was the Aurelian way, and this felt important—a celebration of their survival, a moment for the town to come together after days of isolation. It was his first blizzard, and for many of the Aurelians, theirs as well.

Despite the cold and the isolation, he found the blizzard oddly beautiful. The quiet of it, the way the snow coated everything in a soft, pristine blanket. It was nothing like the warm, sunny days of Aurelia, but there was a harsh beauty in it that he couldn’t deny.

More than anything, Flynn found himself wondering how the Lunarians had endured this kind of weather for generations. It was a testament to their resilience, their strength in the face of adversity. His admiration for them deepened, recognizing that their survival, like the blizzard itself, was something to be respected.

On the seventh day, Flynn awoke with a rare sense of excitement as the blizzard had finally passed. The winds had quieted, and the heavy snowfall had softened to a gentle flurry. The storm's end brought a lightness to the air, and after a week of confinement, Flynn felt a renewed energy. Though the past week had been stressful, it had also given him a chance to reflect and rest. Now, with the celebration ahead, he was ready to reconnect with the townsfolk and share in the sense of survival.

The guards outside were already preparing the streets, shoveling the snow and calling for people to join the feast at the Eye of the Beholder. As he dressed and got ready to head out, Flynn’s thoughts shifted from the storm to his next steps. The blight still loomed large, but now, after a week of rest, he felt more focused and determined. Today, they would celebrate together, and the work would resume.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Hey all! Now that the timeskip is up, feel free to start posting as usual again :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Current Moon Phase: Full Moon | Current Weather: 35 Degrees, gentle snowfall, cloudy skies | Current Time: 9am}

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For seven long days, the blizzard had roared over Dawnhaven, an unrelenting force of nature that piled snow upon the trees, houses, and streets, sealing everyone inside their homes. The howling winds seemed endless, drowning out any attempt at communication beyond the walls of the town. The streets were abandoned, as no one dared venture out into the storm. Guards took short rotating shifts, braving the brutal cold and conserving precious firewood as they huddled together, trying to stay warm while protecting the town as best they could. Blight-born who could withstand such harsh weather proved to be highly useful, keeping watch where the humans could not.

Now, a week later, the storm has finally begun to ease. Around three feet of snow blankets the town, with many snowdrifts built up along buildings. The winds, once fierce and biting, have died down to a gentle breeze. The snowfall has slowed, though it hasn't stopped completely. The streets, once impassable, were now being cleared by the guards who shoveled diligently, making way for the eager citizens who had been trapped indoors for days on end.

As the snow is cleared, another unit of Aurelian guards move through Dawnhaven, lighting torches along the roads. As they make their way from door to door, they announce that everyone is welcome to gather outside the Eye of the Beholder for a warm meal, generously provided by the Prince and Princess to celebrate the end of Dawnhaven's first blizzard of the season. It’s a moment of much-needed relief and community, after days spent isolated in the cold.

Slowly but surely, people begin to emerge from their homes, bundled up in thick coats and scarves. They make their way to the Eye of the Beholder, where a large bonfire blazes outside, casting a welcoming glow. Around the fire, hot soup and steaming bowls of stew are passed around, the savory scents filling the air. Laughter and conversation flow freely, as the townsfolk—grateful to be together again—share in the warmth of community, and the joy of having survived the storm.

Though the storm hasn't fully passed, Dawnhaven feels alive once again.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Royal Cabin | Time: 10:30am | Collaboration with @c3p-0h

Catching up to Amaya, Flynn fell into step beside her, his body language reading a bit more tense than it had been on stage—the mask beginning to falter.

"I’m sorry," Flynn muttered softly, his tone laced with guilt as he glanced over at Amaya. She gave no indication that she’d even heard him. He knew he had taken far too long to wrap up that conversation, despite feeling it was the right thing to do from the citizen’s perspective. As they neared the cabin, Flynn quickened his pace slightly to reach the door first.

"Thank you for your escort," he said to the guards as they stopped outside, then turned to hold the door open for Amaya, his eyes drifting down to her hands. He watched for any sign of her magic—water pooling at her fingertips, mist forming in the air, ice crawling along her skin. As far as he could tell, there was nothing.

Amaya managed to control herself until she heard the latch of the door slide closed behind her. And then she fell apart.

The flickering statue of Seluna gave a dull thud as it hit the floorboards, and Amaya’s hand shot out to connect with the wall beside her. Magic flooded out of her like grief, painting the cabin wall with the complex geometry of ice. A layer of frost coated the wood in a wide swath from her hand, expanding until the last edges of ice nearly touched the ceiling.

When Amaya came back to herself, she was gasping. She was barely holding herself up against the wall, her hand embedded in a thin layer of ice against it. There were tears on her face. Her whole body shook, her other hand splayed against her stomach as her breath escaped in puffs of white.

She squeezed her eyes shut, eyebrows pulling together as she tried to fight for control – but it was a losing battle, now that she’d opened the floodgates. She couldn’t stop the way her ragged breath tore through her body, couldn’t keep more tears from streaming down her face as her own treacherous emotions tried to drown her.

Flynn froze in place as the temperature of the room plummeted, watching in stunned silence as the frost crept up the walls, his body tense from the sudden outburst. The sound of the latch had barely faded before Amaya’s magic exploded from her like a torrent of grief, freezing everything in its path. His gaze darted to Amaya, her form trembling against the wall, struggling to steady herself. His heart twisted.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. The memory of her rejecting his attempts to comfort her when they learned about her mother’s death flashed in his mind. The last time he’d reached out to hold her, she had recoiled from him like his touch burned. He had failed her then, and the sting of that failure still hung over him. But now… he couldn’t just stand there, not when she was barely holding herself together.

Gently placing the statue of Aelios on a nearby table, Flynn cautiously moved toward her from behind, angling himself slightly to the side so he could see her face. His heart pounded in his chest, his brow furrowed in deep worry as he tried to close the distance without alarming her.

When he reached her, his hand hovered for a split second of hesitation before he gently placed it on her shoulder. She flinched at the touch. “Amaya...” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper. The warmth of his palm offered little contrast to the frigid atmosphere. He searched her expression, trying to gauge what she needed from him—whether his presence was a comfort or an intrusion.

“Breathe in deep," he instructed softly, his gaze locked onto her expression as he listened to her ragged breathing. "Focus on your breath—slow and steady." He took a deep breath with her, his mind racing as he tried to remember all the different techniques he had been taught to control his own magic. It was something like meditation, meant to center and control the chaotic energy that buzzed beneath the surface. He wished Eris were here to provide better instruction.

Amaya’s world shrank. There was only the chill wrapped around her body, the numbness of her hand against the wall, and –

The warmth of Flynn’s palm against her shoulder. His voice was so close as he murmured to her softly. It was an alien feeling, to have someone else sharing this tiny world she’d enclosed herself within. But everything was too raw, too overwhelming to be examined.

She tried to focus on his words through the roar of her emotions. But when she sucked in a breath, it was like her body was too full. There was no room for air. She couldn’t control her lungs, or the shallow, harsh gasps that escaped her.

"I'm here… Just breathe." he said, his voice calm and steady, though his expression of worry was unmistakable. The instinct to pull her into an embrace was almost overpowering, but he held back, remembering all too well how badly things had gone the last time. Instead, he remained patient, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, hoping that just being there to offer her space to fall apart if she needed, would be enough. His concern deepened as the ice continued to grow, as though her magic was pushing to break free in a way that unsettled him. Amaya’s magic was volatile, and so was her grief.

Finally, one Amaya’s frantic gasps pulled her voice with it, in a sharp, pained sound. A hand clamped over her mouth. Amaya shrank in on herself even more, like she could fold herself away. All the while, ice continued to creep its way along the wall, claiming more of the cabin.

She wanted her mother.

But instead it was her father’s voice she heard, cold and derisive.

How easily you fall to pieces.

Amaya opened her eyes.

She was looking at the floor. The small drops where her tears had landed were frozen coins of ice against the hardwood. Something else started to bleed into her grief – anger. Amaya’s hand tightened against her mouth, willing herself to get back under control and stop embarrassing herself.

Amaya didn’t know how long she stood there, wrestling with her emotions as her body shook and ice climbed up the ceiling. But all the while, Flynn’s hand stayed on her shoulder. His voice murmured quietly to her. She tried (and failed) to pretend he wasn’t here, witnessing all of this. She tried not to focus on the warmth of his hand.

Flynn’s eyes squeezed shut, a dull ache spreading through his chest as he listened to Amaya’s hiccups and gasping breaths. It felt like her pain was his own, a visceral, unrelenting pressure weighing him down. Her pain was difficult to witness, and helplessness gnawed at him, making him feel utterly powerless to ease any of her suffering.

Finally, when she’d carefully put all her shattered pieces away and her breath was even with only a few stuttering hiccups, Amaya dropped her hand from her mouth. She sniffled.

Gritting his teeth, Flynn steadied himself, searching for calm within the storm of emotions. He focused inward, reaching for the chaotic tangle of magic inside him—magic he hadn’t tapped into in far too long. Slowly, he pulled at the threads of his fire magic, coaxing warmth to the surface. His hand, resting on her shoulder, began to glow faintly with heat. The warmth spread from his palm, attempting to wrap her in a soft blanket of heat, though it was being fought off by the frigid magic that continually leaked from Amaya. Flynn knew this would exhaust him, but in the moment, it didn’t matter.

She felt hollow. She turned her head to finally look at the wall. It was nearly completely covered in ice. Another hiccup shook her.

Amaya couldn’t feel her hand anymore. The ice around it had melted and frozen and melted again, over and over so it now formed a rippling, glass-like shell around her hand.

Flynn’s gaze shifted to her hand, encased in the jagged layers of ice. He was about to raise his fire-infused hand to melt it when her voice broke through.

“Open the door.” Her voice came out in a broken, emotionless whisper.

Flynn froze for a moment, glancing at the door. He knew the royal guards were stationed just outside, enduring the blizzard in short, rotating shifts. "Are you sure?" He asked, his voice filled with concern. "The guards—"

He trailed off, watching her, but her silence spoke volumes. Worried she was on the verge of frostbite, he shifted his attention back to her hand first. Gently lifting his palm from her shoulder, he hovered his hand just above the ice trapping her. Slowly, the ice began to melt under the warmth he fed into the air. It took longer than usual, her magic still spilling out like a relentless flood. Flynn felt it—how hard it was to keep up, to balance the energy without exhausting himself completely. It had been so long since he’d used his magic—he felt rusty, clumsy, like he was forcing a muscle to work that had long atrophied.

Something about his slowness, his gentleness, only fueled her anger — like she was a frail child that needed to be coddled. Even as her body wanted to pull towards his warmth, she grit her teeth and focused on her hand.

As the last bit of ice melted away, freeing her hand, Flynn glanced at her again, meeting her gaze. She looked at him with such force, such fury in her expression, as if daring him to question her again.

Stepping back, he settled his hand on the door handle. His eyes locked on hers, silently asking for one last confirmation. Her glare only hardened, the answer clear—she wasn’t going to repeat herself. Without another word, Flynn opened the door, the cold air rushing in.

Amaya flexed her hand, phantom needles piercing it as blood flowed again. And then in a swift motion, she raised it and pulled.

She’d been a skilled magic user before her world fell to pieces. Precise. Logical. Creative, with whatever shortcomings she’d possessed. But what she had in skill and practice, she lacked in sheer power.

But the world had changed much, since then. And her magic begged to be used.

Pulling from the well of magic in her that always seemed to overflow now, Amaya grabbed hold of the frost coating the inside of the cabin. Her specialty had always been turning water to ice, manipulating it to her will. She’d always known how to freeze better than she could thaw. But Amaya grabbed hold of the ice now, forcing it back into fluidity. It was water just long enough to pull away from the wall before freezing itself again, still in motion. Shards of ice shot through the air, past Amaya and Flynn, out the door, to bury themselves in the growing layer of snow in front of the cabin. The guards shouted in surprise. A stray shard flew too close to her hand, slicing a thin line of crimson that burned in the frigid air. It burned like clarity.

The tears were gone from her face, tracks of dried salt crystals marking her skin.

Staring out at the winter world beyond the door, Amaya let out a slow, shaking breath. It filled the air in a white fog. Her face was carefully neutral again. Her hands still shook. She was still empty. But the frantic storm of her magic had quieted to a dull hum.

She didn’t look at Flynn as she turned away from the door and began walking towards the stairs.

Flynn flinched as ice daggers shot past his face, their sharp edges too close for comfort. For a split second, he expected her to impale him and bury him beneath the same storm she’d unleashed on the walls. As the shards buried themselves in the snow and dirt outside, his heart pounded as he locked eyes with one of the guards who had shouted in alarm.

“Prince? Everything alright, Sir?” The guard’s hand moved for his weapon, clearly worried and on edge. Flynn gave a sharp nod, forcing himself to appear calm, though he was sure everything was not alright. Slowly, he closed the door, shutting out the guard's confused expression and the winter storm beyond.

He turned just in time to see Amaya walk away, her face devoid of emotion. His chest tightened as he watched her, the ache of helplessness returning. “Amaya…” His voice wavered, unsteady. He paused, searching for the right words, his mind racing in a thousand directions. “What… What can I do to help?”

It felt like a feeble offering, but it was all he had.

As he waited for her answer, the warm glow from his hand began fading as he withdrew his magic, the tendrils retreating back inside him like the dying embers of a fire. Exhaustion swept over him in a heavy wave, making his limbs feel sluggish.

Amaya paused on the steps at the sound of his voice. She didn’t mean to. But something in her, cold and small, ached for that warmth. His voice echoed in her mind, soft and close. She didn’t let herself look back at him. The cut on her hand stung in the open air, blood drawing a bright line where it dripped down her hand.

“I wish to be alone.”

When she made it up to her room, she closed the door behind her.

Flynn stood still, watching as Amaya ascended the stairs, a dull sense of defeat settling in his chest. He let out a slow, controlled breath, not daring to call after her again.

His thoughts drifted to his younger years—those long, familiar days spent looking after his younger siblings. Back then, it had been so easy to know what to do, how to soothe their tears and ease their worries. But here, with Amaya, he felt completely out of place.

Despite the exhaustion that tugged at him, he forced himself to move, making his way to the hearth in the living quarters. Kneeling, he carefully stacked logs into the fireplace, and then with a final flicker of his dwindling magic, lit the kindling. The fire crackled to life, casting shadows across the cabin.

He sat down in front of the flames, staring into the light as it danced, his hands outstretched to warm them. The howling winds of the blizzard outside sounded distant, muffled by the quiet that had settled inside the cabin. Flynn’s thoughts spun in circles, wondering how long the storm would last, both the one outside and the one brewing inside Amaya.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Town Square

Moving to the opposite side of the town square, Kira decided to put as much distance between herself and Elara as possible. Her steps were quick, avoiding any further temptation to accidentally fall into feral behavior. She found refuge by the blacksmith’s building, leaning against the cool stone wall, still on the outskirts of the crowd and unable to smell the sweet scent of the blood that coursed through her childhood friend's veins.

As the Prince and Princess began their announcement, Kira listened carefully, her ears tuning in to every word. The news of Queen Anjali's death brought a slight pang of surprise, but Kira couldn’t say she was entirely shocked. The King had always been cold, calculated, and devoid of empathy, even when it came to his own family. The Prince did not specifically say that the Queen had been murdered, but to Kira there was no other explanation. It was obvious to her that the King would “replace” the Queen as soon as Amaya was gone and there was no one left to contest him. That was who he was—a man who saw people as chess pieces, easily discarded when no longer useful. It was sad, but Kira knew the game he played all too well.

As Amaya spoke of her mother, Kira's thoughts drifted to the few interactions she had with the late Queen during her own time in the castle. Queen Anjali had been a rare figure of kindness in Kira's life, offering her food when she was at her weakest, starved and battered from endless training. It was Anjali’s empathy that had sustained her, though the Queen never truly knew Kira. The Queen had helped many of the orphan children who had been put to work by the King. Still, in those fleeting moments, it felt like Anjali had been the only one keeping her from breaking entirely. Clearly, Queen Anjali had taken pity on Kira—a child stolen from Aurelia to be molded into the lethal Lunarian weapon she was today.

As the meeting came to a close, Kira's orange gaze wandered across the crowd, observing the mix of reactions to the news. Her attention was briefly caught by the rising wind, tugging at her cloak and flicking strands of her fiery red hair into her face. Irritated, she pulled her hood up, her mind beginning to swirl with thoughts of the King. What was his plan? He wanted to replace Amaya, no doubt. He had already offered her up as a sacrifice, which would leave him with no heir at all and put the entire kingdom’s future at risk. He was old, and his time was running thin.

Kira would wager that the Aurelian King would do the same, if he were in the same position. After all, power and control came before all else to men like them. With a quiet sigh, she pushed off the wall and stalked away, deciding to retreat to the safety of her home before the storm worsened. She needed time to process everything—Anjali’s death, the King's next move, and what all of this meant for the realm. Keeping her hood low, she disappeared into the winding streets, ready to hole up and wait for the storm to pass.