Location: Eye of the Beholder |
Trying to maintain his composure despite the chaotic energy buzzing within his chest, his eyes flickering back toward Amaya. Was she watching him? Did she notice who he followed after, the urgency in his step? He couldn't help but wonder if she could possibly know what was pulling him toward the inn. No, of course not. She couldn’t know. How could she? A tinge of guilt hit him.
Feeling increasingly awkward with his hands full, he quickly addressed a nearby guard. “Here,” he said, passing the cookie, bottle, and gelatin cube to the guard as quickly as possible. “Please deliver these to the cabin for me, if you don’t mind.” The guard nodded with a bit of a puzzled look but complied without question. “Of course, sir.”
Freed from the burden of the impromptu gifts, Flynn squared his shoulders, refocusing his attention to what had brought him here in the first place. As he put his hand on the tavern door, yet another person stopped him. A woman stepped into his view, her expression both stern and exasperated. It was Daphne, one of the Lunarian guards who had arrived unannounced with Lord Coswain. She offered a respectful greeting before launching into her complaint about Lord Raunefeldt.
The name struck Flynn like a jolt of lightning, and he almost winced at the sound of it. "Raunefeldt?" he echoed, his tone flat with disbelief. ’Ayel is here too?’ He thought, feeling the beginnings of a headache starting at his temples already. Of all the times and places for that man to show up... He bit back the groan that threatened to escape him. Flynn had known that a Raunefeldt would be on their way, but by the sounds of it they had sent Ayel, and not the eldest brother whom Flynn had been hoping for. Just thinking about Ayel brought a flood of memories—haughty arrogance, biting remarks, and an unyielding lack of empathy for anyone but himself. Of course he was already stirring up trouble.
Flynn clenched his jaw, his patience thinning as his sense of urgency grew. This was another complication on top of everything else, another problem to add to his ever-growing list.
"Yes, yes," he said quickly, waving his hand in a gesture that was both dismissive and decisive. "If Lord Raunefeldt gets out of line, detain him. Handle it as you see fit."
For a split second, he felt like his father. Deciding someone’s fate without a second thought. The realization was uncomfortable, but he shoved it aside, his focus returning once more to the task at hand. "I have urgent matters to attend to," he added, his eyes darting back toward the tavern door. "But find me if Lord Raunefeldt gets out of hand. I will speak with him soon."
Finally, Flynn pushed open the heavy wooden door of the tavern, his heart thudding with an intensity that made him feel dizzy. The thought of Nyla being here in Dawnhaven sent a thrill coursing through him, but he forced himself to push it down. He was no oath-breaker; he had made promises to Amaya, and he wasn’t the kind of man to take those vows lightly. Still, despite his loyalty, his heart ached. Why was Nyla here? To torment him? To remind him of what could never be?
His eyes scanned the dimly lit room, taking in the flickering candlelight that cast dancing shadows on the walls. People filled the space, drinking, eating, talking, their laughter and chatter creating a hum that seemed distant to his ears. Flynn's gaze darted from face to face, desperately searching for the one he both dreaded and hoped to see.
And then he saw her.
Nyla stood near a table lined with bottles—more strange alcohol, by the looks of it—speaking to a blonde-haired man Flynn didn’t recognize. His stomach twisted at the sight, the world narrowing to just her. She was real. Not a trick of his imagination. There was no mistaking her raven hair, those piercing blue eyes, and those lips that… A cold shock jolted through his veins. His feet felt rooted to the floor, heavy and unmovable. He stood there, awkwardly lingering in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat.
Before he could will himself to move toward her, a high-pitched voice rang out, slicing through his daze. "FLYNN!" He turned to see Eris jumping up from a booth and gathering a stack of notes in a flurry, forgetting to address him by title. He nearly cursed out loud in frustration—once again someone was interrupting the mission he was on. She rushed toward him, eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and exhaustion. Flynn's eyes shifted to the coat of flames draped around her shoulders, curiosity flickering in his expression as he took in her disheveled appearance.
Before he could say anything, Eris blurted out, "I need to discuss something important with you, and it can't wait. Can we find somewhere private to talk?"
"Of course." Flynn said, though he couldn’t help but steal another glance at Nyla. Their eyes met again for a heartbeat, a flash of connection that made his head spin. But he forced himself to look away, forcing his feet to follow Eris to a back room. Each step felt like agony.
The room they entered was dark and cold, clearly unused for some time. It was a staging area for performers before they stepped out onto the tavern’s small stage. Flynn, still trying to steady himself, reached for a candle, cupping his hand around it as he summoned a thread of magic. The wick flared to life with a small flame, casting a warm glow that chased away the shadows.
He turned his attention fully to Eris, his voice calm but tinged with concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, holding the candle to illuminate her face.
Eris nodded, her focus entirely on the papers she began to lay out on a nearby table. "Look here," she said, pointing to a rough diagram she’d sketched. Some of the writing was smeared, like the paper had been exposed to moisture. Flynn leaned in, trying to make sense of the chart that showed a list of reactive versus non-reactive elements. The non-reactive list was extensive, but there, on the reactive list, was a single entry: Light Magic
He glanced back up at her, his confusion clear. Eris took a deep breath and began to explain, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Before the blizzard, I met with the Priestess Tingara. She told me to look into the blight-born Willis's blood," she said. Flynn raised an eyebrow, still trying to follow.
"I didn't get it either," she continued, "but I got a sample of Willis's blood anyway and did all sorts of tests on it. Nothing worked." She pointed to the one item listed in the reactive section. "As soon as I infused his blood with light magic, it reacted. It—well, it acted like a compass. It pulled toward the blighted crop I brought back from our journey from Lunaris. It’s like the blood is drawn to the blight."
Flynn’s mind raced as he processed the information. The whirlwind of emotions from the day left him reeling, but for the first time in what felt like ages, he felt a spark of hope. This was progress. Real progress. Eris had found something tangible, something that might help them in their fight against the blight.
"Willis’s blood could be used as a tracker," Flynn said slowly, glancing back at the diagram. "We could pinpoint blight before it reaches Dawnhaven. This… this could save lives." His heart pounded again, this time with excitement. While it wasn’t a cure, it was a significant step forward. Tracking the blight would allow them to keep the town safe, to protect everyone from walking straight into disaster, or ingesting something tainted.
"Exactly!" Eris exclaimed, a large smile spread across her face. "We need to test it further, but… it’s... it’s something." The excitement in her voice made Flynn smile, easing a small bit of his anxiety.
“How did the Priestess know this?” Flynn asked, but Eris only shook her head and shrugged. She was as puzzled as he was.
Deciding that was a problem for another day, Flynn placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder, his smile warm and encouraging. "You’ve done wonderfully, Eris. This is incredible. I’ll gather a search party, and we’ll put this to the test as soon as we can."
Eris beamed, her own exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the rush of shared excitement. "Agreed," she said, nodding eagerly. "This needs to be studied further.” she paused for a moment, contemplative. “I hope Willis will cooperate."
Flynn nodded, his thoughts already shifting to how he’d handle that conversation. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of hope, feeling lighter than he had all day. At least some things were moving forward—even if his personal life felt like it was spiraling beyond his control.
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden sound, they both paused and turned their heads toward the door. Music, lively and melodic, echoed through the wooden walls. It was a cheerful tune, accompanied by the rhythmic stomp of feet and the occasional burst of laughter, signaling that someone had taken up an instrument to entertain the crowd.
Flynn's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of curiosity sparking in his eyes. He glanced at Eris, who met his look with a similar expression. For a moment, they just stood there, sharing a silent exchange—a mutual question of who might be playing and what had stirred the festivity into full swing.
Eris broke the silence first, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Well," she said, her voice light with a hint of amusement, "seems like the feast is going great."
Flynn gave a slow nod, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his face despite the turmoil of his thoughts. "It does sound like they’re enjoying themselves." he replied, his tone softer.
“Come on, Flynn,” she said, gesturing toward the door with a hint of playfulness as she gathered up her notes. “We should go celebrate. For once, we actually have some good news to toast to!”
Flynn managed a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The thought of stepping back into the crowded tavern now, knowing that Nyla was out there, made his pulse quicken in a way that had nothing to do with celebration. He felt a surge of nerves, twisting like a knot in his stomach, knowing that seeing her again would only complicate things further.
But he couldn’t let Eris see that hesitation. Not now.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. “Let’s go celebrate.” He forced himself to take a deep breath, straightening his shoulders. As he reached for the door, the music and the hum of voices grew louder, and with a final glance at Eris, he braced himself for what was to come.
Interactions: Sya/Daphne @PrinceAlexus