The Muse

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: East Gate > Guard Camp | Collaboration with @Dark Light & @enmuni

Zeph hesitated when Aliseth instructed him to lead the way. ‘Lead the way?’ he thought, his brow furrowing. Bringing a blight-born right to their superior—was he serious? Commander Volkov barely tolerated their presence within a hundred yards. Zeph stared at Aliseth for some hint of explanation, though his confusion remained concealed behind the metal mask of his helm.

Then he saw it. Aliseth's pointed gesture, drawing attention to the bloodstains on her clothing. His pulse quickened. Blood. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword as his gaze flickered back to her. Could she really have been the one responsible for the attack?

Zeph took a steadying breath, studying her more closely now. She looked monstrous at first glance—there was no denying that. Even if she did have feminine features that told him she had likely been a beautiful human once. The horns, the wings, the unsettling calmness about her after she had just killed Abel. And yet, here she was, offering a muzzle like some kind of domesticated animal.

Even as he had the opportunity to look at her, Nesna seemed to shrivel in real time. She seemed to fight against herself, moving from a trained poise to a smaller, less ostentatious form. Her wings slumped back, slipping from their folded position to trail languidly behind her. Nesna in fact made an active effort to slump her posture as well, as much as she could without hunching, and she further seemed to pull her hands in closer to her chest, gripping them tightly. All of this, she did slowly, avoiding making any sudden movement whatsoever.

Submissive. That’s what she was—too much so. It didn’t add up. How could someone like her have taken down Abel? He had known the man—well-seasoned, sharp as a blade. ‘This one’s acting. Has to be. Deceptive creature…’

Uneasy, he glanced back at Aliseth, searching for a sign of hesitation in his comrade's posture, but all he found was the same enigmatic confidence Aliseth always exuded. Perhaps Aliseth had a plan—he always did.

Reluctantly, Zeph turned and began leading the way, his fingers curling tightly around the hilt of his sword. He took them away from the gate, further into Dawnhaven. The immediate area was a patchwork of tents and barracks, bustling with the usual movement of soldiers—both Aurelian and Lunarian guards passing through. Their contrasting armors made them easy to distinguish: Aurelians gleamed in polished silver, while the Lunarians blended into the shadows with their dull, dark plating. The mingling of soldiers still felt strange to him, their armors clashing like their histories, though the peace seemed to hold. For now.

Zeph kept his pace steady, but his hand lingered on the pommel of his sword. His eyes darting between the tents and the soldiers, ever watchful. A few soldiers turned their heads as they passed, their eyes narrowing when they caught sight of the blight-born trailing behind. He straightened his posture, trying to project authority he didn’t feel.

For reasons unknown, Aliseth felt uneasy walking amongst all these other guards of opposing nations. He felt like an imposter as he passed through them, even if he did outrank most. Still he walked tall, head held high, ignoring the many eyes on them. It didn't take him long to figure out where they were going because the building didn't need a sign or placard, it was obvious. He swallowed nervously. ‘how could he give answers he didn't have.’

The commander’s quarters were unmistakable—a large wooden structure hastily built but sturdy, its beams reinforced for the harsh climate. Two guards stood stationed at the entrance, their hands resting on their weapons as they eyed the approaching trio. Zeph felt their gazes shift to the blight-born, then briefly to Aliseth.

“We need to speak with Commander Volkov.” he said, tone firm. Neither guard questioned him, though they exchanged a silent look before stepping aside to allow entry.
Aliseth followed at the back, handing the guard on his left his torch as he entered.

Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of woodsmoke and parchment. A long wooden table dominated the space, its surface cluttered with maps, markers, and documents. A brazier burned low in the corner, casting flickering shadows against the walls. Commander Volkov stood at the table, his broad shoulders hunched as he gestured at a map of Dawnhaven and its perimeter. Another guard, younger and nervous, nodded at his instructions.

The moment the group entered, Volkov’s sharp blue eyes snapped up, irritation flashing across his weathered face. His face bore the marks of decades of service—scarred, leathery skin, deep-set eyes and a greying beard trimmed to regulation.

The interruption clearly didn’t sit well with him, and his deep voice was like gravel as he growled, “What the hell is this? Kain, Hale—what in blazes have you brought me?” His gaze landed on Nesna, and his expression twisted with visible disdain and simmering rage.

Nesna looked up at him but for a moment and then reeled back, with a stance like that of a confused child called into the headmaster’s office. As much as her eyes seemed averted and downturned before, it was clear she was making a concerted effort not to make any eye-contact whatsoever, going so far as to lower her eyelids.

Zeph stiffened, quickly taking position and saluting. “Apologies for the intrusion, Sir. We have urgent news.”

Volkov’s glare didn’t falter, but his eyes flicked to Aliseth, clearly expecting answers. Zeph shifted slightly, and turned his gaze to Aliseth as well, waiting for him to explain. As he waited, his focus stayed partially on Nesna, ready to intervene should she make any sudden move to flee… or attack.

As Zeph made his salute, Nesna slowly moved to the ground, and then fell to her knees with practiced grace after he finished speaking. She held her arms to her chest and bowed while kneeling, but said nothing, staying steady in her position.

With eyes on him and a heavy silence in the air, Aliseth looked up from whatever it was the blightborn was doing and addressed that captain. It was time for him to speak, so he did. Chin held high, voice assertive. The same mannerisms and confidence that got him this far.

"Sir!" He gives a salute just as sharp as Zeph's.

"There has been a grave incident. I feel it best not discussed in front of." He pauses as his head tilts down to look at Nesna on the floor. "Nesna here." the name forced from his lips. Looking back up and catching the man's eyes he carried on.

"But at the same time I don't believe it is in anyone's best interest that the newcomer freely wander the town right now. Some may react irrationally to her presence while we may also still find need for further questions."

He takes a moment to study the faces around him, those that he could see anyway, trying to anticipate their reaction, judging the room.

Zeph’s eyes flicked downward to where Nesna had sunk to her knees, her movements fluid and deliberate, as though this display of submission was second nature to her. She exuded a kind of reverence that he had never associated with any blight-born before. Docility from her kind had not been his lived experience, and he couldn’t decide whether it made her less or more dangerous. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer before shifting back to Aliseth, then to the Commander. The old man’s scowl hadn’t softened, his eyes dark and unrelenting. If anything, he seemed angrier, his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared daggers at Nesna.

“Blight-born crawl all over Dawnhaven like rats,” the commander growled, “Send her to the Sun-Prick Prince and be done with it. Why would this one be any different?” His glare shifted to Aliseth. “Spit it out, then. What news is so damned urgent that you bring this pathetic beast into my quarters?”

As the Commander continued his tirade, Nesna seemed to shrink further, hanging her head and closing her eyes as she moved from kneeling to sitting on her legs. Suddenly and without warning, she spoke.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” she said in a clearly resigned tone, “I am still Lunarian enough to know one such as myself is not worthy to be here. But if it would soothe your troubles, Commander, could I offer you something of mine to pawn, so you might get some coin for this inconvenience?”

Volkov snorted, his gaze only briefly shifting to Nesna. “What you have to offer is of no value to me, creature. Hold your tongue.” His gaze returned to Aliseth, expectantly. Zeph internally grimaced, a pang of empathy for Nesna running through him, though he said nothing.

Nesna simply nodded and said nothing more.

Aliseth took a breath, it didn’t appear that Volkov was happy with his new position. Still, he had no sympathy for the creature at his feet either and carried on. Although… he did briefly wonder what valuables she might be carrying.

”One of our own has fallen, out on the road to the temple.” He pulled all emotion from his voice as he spoke the facts as he knew them, no matter how shameful they might be.

”Beheaded by an infected. I was there. We were accompanying the princess as she escorted the deceptive creature. It tried to use some sort of magic on her to manipulate her but she called it out. I, I chased it off but was not as resistant to its powers as the princess. I currently remember very little of anything before that fight…. I don't even know what the enemy looks like or where the princess has gone.” He let that revelation settle, cold to his own words as he stood tall and looked at no one but the space straight ahead. Bearing his failings to all and waiting.

At the mention of the princess, Nesna moved suddenly and seemingly unintentionally for the very first time since the guards had encountered her. Her head whipped up and her eyes opened wide, while their glow seemed to suddenly diminish shortly after. She seemed entirely surprised, but seemed to catch herself near the end of the reflex, freezing once more.

Aliseth had no sword but the flicker of steel in torchlight shone across the blade of his dagger as it appeared in his hand in reaction to the blight-born’s sudden movement. Muscles tensed and ready to react. He couldn’t add failing to defend the captain to his growing list of failures.

Volkov’s weathered face hardened further, his jaw clenching as Aliseth’s words sank in. His expression twisted, a volatile mix of confusion, disbelief, and barely contained rage. He straightened to his full, imposing height, his gaze drilling into both Aliseth and Zephyros, as though he were looking down at shit beneath his boots.

"And where were you, Hale?" he spat, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

Zeph straightened reflexively. “I-I was… inside the inn, Sir,” he managed, ice cold guilt washing over him. “Grabbing a… a snack… for a moment.”

His mind conjured an image of Abel—his comrade—head severed cleanly from his body. His stomach churned. A realization hit him then: the call of pastries, of something so small and foolish, had likely spared him from suffering the same fate.

Zeph’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t know it would… I didn’t know.” His hand curled into a fist at his side. Shame burned in his chest as he forced himself to meet Volkov’s gaze, even as his eyes threatened to drop.

Volkov's fury exploded in an instant. He slammed his fist into the table with a force that sent papers and markers onto the floor. “Goddess damn it all!” he bellowed, eyes blazing with anger. “Abel was one of our best men!”

The room went silent in the aftermath of his outburst, the crackling of the fire and the distant shuffle of guards outside the only sounds breaking the stillness. Volkov’s chest heaved as he attempted to take steadying breaths, shaking his head as his gaze flicked between Zeph and Aliseth.

He took heavy steps around the table and toward the trio, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. "You lose a soldier. You don't know where the Princess is. You don't know what the enemy looks like. You bring this—" he jabbed a finger toward Nesna without sparing her another glance, "—into my quarters?!"

Volkov snorted, shaking his head in disgust. "I should lock you all up. Useless. Fucking useless."

Zeph’s expression tightened as though he wanted to speak but knew better than to interrupt the Commander in the heat of his anger.

“You will find someone to unscramble your damn head.” he snarled at Aliseth, his eyes narrowed into slits. “A Psychic magic user—I don’t care who it is. We need answers. Now.”

Zeph glanced toward Aliseth, trying to gauge his reaction. Letting Psychic magic sift through one's mind was not something pleasant, or easy. It could be excruciating at times, especially when dealing with repressed memories.

“And get this demon out of my sight. Put her in confinement if you must.” He gestured sharply at Nesna, his eyes locked onto her with a venomous glare.

Volkov’s jaw tightened, “We need a search party.” he stated, turning his attention to the young soldier still standing uncomfortably beside the table. "Get word out. Alert the Aurelian Commander. We need every soldier we can spare. We’ll start at the last known location of the princess. Whoever that blight-born is—" he paused, giving Nesna a contemptuous look. "—we’ll find them too.”

He looked back to Zephyros and Aliseth. “You two had best pray to Seluna that the Princess is still alive. May she have mercy on you.”

Zeph bowed his head out of respect, his heart hammering in his chest. "Understood, Sir," he said quietly, his voice steady. He turned to Nesna, his hand reaching down to gently grip her forearm. "Come on," he murmured softly, helping her to her feet.

Nesna nodded quickly and practically sprung up, murmuring “Thank you,” as she did.

Aliseth hadn’t even blinked at the commander's outburst, it was almost as if he couldn't. He was as still as a statue during the verbal onslaught. That’s not to say that there were no thoughts dwelling behind those eyes, just that he knew better than to let them show.
“Yes sir.” he snapped in agreement. “I will take care of this.” He informed Valkov “I will make it right.” The firm promise spoken with determination.

As Nesna rose, Zeph exchanged a brief glance with Aliseth—unspoken words passing between them in that fleeting moment. Without a word, the two of them turned and began to make their way out of the Commander's quarters.

“A fucking snack!?” Aliseth growled the moment the warmth of the fire was left behind them and they were greeted by the cold air outside. He snatched his torch back off the guard standing beside the door who he had previously handed it to. The young door guard flinched at his sudden vicious demeanor. “What a cock” he almost hissed in a whisper. Not afraid to share his true feelings now they were outside the commander's quarters. Although it wasn't clear for whom all his anger was directed, his eyes holding a deep disdain for anyone who fell before them.

Zeph grimaced at Aliseth's comment, guilt sinking deeper into his chest. Yes, a snack... but what was he to do? They’d been out there for hours—shoveling snow for hours. He’d been starving! Still, he knew better than to voice his feeble excuse aloud. Aliseth had already endured enough and Zeph wasn’t about to fan the flames of his anger. So he said nothing, biting back his words as they trudged forward through the camp.

With his spare open hand, Alisesth roughly shoved Nesna by the shoulder, pushing her forward and hurrying the submissive blight-born along. “Move.” he snarls coldly. “Let’s get out of here, I need to think.” There was no fucking way he was voluntarily letting anyone in his head. He had to work out a way around all this mess where he could somehow still get what he wanted and fix his earlier mistakes.

Quite unexpectedly, Nesna seemed to tense up and, although clearly caught off guard by the shove, did not really stumble forward as expected, instead suddenly standing firm halfway through the shove. She stopped and turned to look at Aliseth.

“The fact that you get to be a human and I do not is a sick, sick joke,” she snapped. Her tone was cold and imperial—much unlike her previously quiet and gentle speech. “I will not be shoved around by some—some—some cretinous failure whose response to a clearly well-deserved scolding is to throw a tantrum like a petulant child.”

A bemused grin flashed across Aliseth’s face. How could he not laugh in a situation like this. Of course fate would not be done meddling, teasing and toying with him yet. He couldn’t believe the audacity of this one. His breath pushes out a soft chuckle of disbelief as she goes on.

Zeph raised a brow at Nesna's sudden outburst, surprised—and admittedly intrigued—by the fiery defiance that had emerged from someone who had seemed so meek moments ago. This side of her, sharp and biting, clearly dragged to the surface by Aliseth’s indignation.

His curiosity, however, was quickly snuffed out by concern as his gaze flicked to Aliseth. That look. He knew it too well—a grin masking something darker brewing beneath.

Nesna stepped back and gestured at herself.

“I may be this,” she spat, her voice filling with greater contempt as she compared the two of them, “But even as I am now, I now see that allowing you any leeway whatsoever is the very first indignity I haven’t deserved. If you were a guard in my employ and bumbled around like this after failing to protect your assignment, you would be out, on the street, and unemployed. My mother would have had you flogged and thrown into the river if you had failed in such a way as my own guard. Do you understand? Can you at all conceive of the mess you’ve made and are continuing to make? Even I, as this awful thing I am now, am utterly disgraced by your miserable presence. Leave my sight at once.”

Zeph’s mind raced as Nesna’s words confirmed what he had already begun to suspect—she had once been a noblewoman. Her tone, her posture, the way she spoke, all of it. But the way she spoke to Aliseth now was reckless, dangerous even. That life of hers was gone now. She was no longer noble—not inside the borders of Lunaris. King Jericho himself would have said as much. Though, if the Prince of Aurelia had been here, Zeph was certain he’d step in with his infuriating grace and patience. It always struck Zeph as fake, but it worked... most of the time.

Aliseth showed no signs of really hearing her words beyond the ones he wanted to. ‘Had she really just tried to pull rank and command him?’ He stepped forward. Above his sly shark-like smile chaos swirled around in his dead empty compassionless eyes.

Looking towards Zephyros, Nesna seemed to regain her calm shockingly quickly. She seemed to first extend her hand and then jerk it back halfway through, as if thinking better of it.

“Guard Hale, if you would be so kind, I wish to avoid using any more of your necessary time. Please, send or show me where I am meant to be headed.”

She stood straight as she spoke, speaking to him firmly, as if her request were a command, though her voice had otherwise softened and quieted.

Zeph shifted slightly, meeting her gaze as much as he could from beneath his helmet. Take her away? It seemed the wisest course, especially with the look on Aliseth’s face. The explosion was coming. He could feel it.

But… what was he supposed to do with her? Hold her in confinement until they confirmed she wasn’t the killer? The specks of blood on her dress burned in his mind, a detail they hadn’t even managed to report to Volkov.

His gaze flicked to Aliseth as he began to step forward, a predatory look in his comrades eyes. “Come this w—”

”Listen here you haughty stuck up bitch.” Aliseth’s voice came out in a cold whisper sounding unlike anything he had used before. Death hung on every syllable and even without words it had a threatening sweetness to its edge. It was followed by a soft near silent groan emanating from within his throat. His hand became a tight fist and was brought up to his mouth, knuckles resting on his jaw as he steps back and breathes deeply. Searching desperately for any last tiny remaining slither of self restraint not already torn up, used or burnt out this day.

Zeph’s gaze snapped back to Aliseth, mildly shocked by the venomous words dripping from his mouth. Arguing with a blight-born here? In camp? They were dangerously close to causing a scene, and the Commander wasn’t far. Worse still, Nesna was a woman—blight-born or not—and Zeph had been raised better than to tolerate such behavior, no matter the circumstances.

Aliseth had been through hell, that much was clear, but this? This wasn’t the way. Zeph tightened his stance, feeling inclined to pull his brother back from the edge.

“Kain…” He said sharply, the sternness in his tone carrying a warning.

”You have no fucking idea what you are talking about!” Aliseth suddenly snapped back more loudly this time. A flash of anger escaping his control. He pauses once again, trying to reel it back in, violence itching just beneath his skin. Jaw clenched tight, he diverts his fierce gaze to all those standing around, soldiers and guards the lot of them, then those eyes finally settle on Zeph. Zeph, the one who wasn’t where he was supposed to be. The one who wasn't there when his friend's head got chopped off or when the princess ran off, or when Aliseth had his memory burnt. His eyes bore the injustice of this trying to load all that guilt onto him with a mere look alone.

So why was she brandishing Aliseth as the failure when at least he was where he was supposed to be. Aliseth was there, intimately close to the princess, close to the violence, close to the death, close to the loss. He had so much he wanted to shout at this blight-bitch. He wanted to verbally vomit everything he had been through so she might have an inkling of a clue. But his emotions did not allow time for that and instead he highlighted her situation for her.

”What do you think would happen if I were insulted enough to attack you right now? Look around you. No one here would miss one of your kind and I'd be all too glad to be rid of one more up-themself pampered spoiled noble brat!” Aliseth knew now that she was of noble lineage and that made him dislike her all the more, she was now two of the three things he hated the most.

As that revelation set in, the thought of her ordering people beaten and whipped for being of lower class and failing to meet impossible standards, caused his empty hand to come up and shove her in the back once again. This time it wasn’t a gentle push to move along, this time it held all his rage and anger backed by a strength no human should have.

“Enough!” Zeph’s patience snapped as Aliseth shoved Nesna forward again, his jaw clenching. But it didn’t seem to matter. The two were locked in their own world, too furious to care about anything else. Even as the guards nearby rushed to form their search parties—calling out orders, gathering their units, and preparing to head out—their brief glances at the scene were only that: fleeting. They had their own mission and could not waste time on this.

Nesna stumbled forward, having clearly not expected such a shove. However, she neither fully fell over nor stumbled as far or as dramatically as might have been expected, catching herself and regaining her balance fairly quickly. She whipped around and shot Aliseth with a wide-eyed glare, with her lips stretching into a thin, tight frown. She stood rigid and cocked her head as she looked at him and scoffed.

“If you could not defeat a blightborn with an entire contingent, what suggests to you that you could, in any world, do so now? You are bruised, beaten, and entirely out of sorts. You should be either looking for your charge or recovering in the infirmary, and yet you see fit to waste your time with me?” she scolded, even, for the first time, raising a hand. She shook her finger accusatively. Her frown twisted into an incredulous smirk as she continued, “No, this entire affair reeks of you attempting to pitter about and waste time to feel as if you’ve done something today. Go lay down. Go drink water. Stop stomping your feet and trying to shove me around to make yourself feel bett—”

“You’re right!” Aliseth cut in with a sharp unexpected shout. “I shouldn't be wasting my time with you. Zeph, get her out of my site. Oh, and keep her away from crowds, there will be people out gathering in fear and for vengeance. And if she is set upon or accused, none of mine will be offering aid.”

Nesna offered a smug grin and chirped, “Ever so glad we can at last agree upon something. Do take care, won’t you, Guard, Kain, was it?”

She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers at him as she spoke in a clearly-disingenuous saccharine tone, “No matter. It was less than a pleasure. Now Guard Hale, would you care to allow me an opportunity to arrange myself before I should be honoured with an audience with a prince—Aurelian he may be—but a prince nonetheless? Thank you both for your, let us call it hospitality, shall we?”

The contempt in Aliseth’s eyes as he stared at this creature, a silent disgust. He didnt know which aspect of her personality was the facade, the interchange happening so quickly. It left him wondering if his decision was a mistake and of the durability of her mind. Anyway, she was Zeph’s problem now. Aliseth had wanted Zeph’s aid, needed it for the things to come, but he couldn’t have an entitled blight-bitch distracting him. He would fix this on his own, perhaps after he cleared his thoughts with a strong drink or two.

Zeph’s frustration boiled inside him, simmering just beneath the surface as he watched the exchange between Aliseth and Nesna unfold. He could feel his own anger bubbling up, but what could he do? Aliseth was his superior, and that left Zeph caught in the middle, trying to keep the peace. If Aliseth had been anyone other than his superior, he might’ve forcibly dragged his brother in arms away from the scene, but he could do nothing. If Zeph hadn't ruined his time with Lord Coswain, like a fool, he would’ve been higher rank than Aliseth by now—which only furthered his frustration.

When Aliseth snapped at him to remove Nesna, Zeph let out a quiet sigh. He glanced briefly at her, a patronizing grin plastered on her face, then turned his gaze back to Aliseth. Without saying a word, Zeph stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Aliseth's shoulder. He gave it a brief but reassuring squeeze. "I’ll do that," He said, his voice calm but firm, as though trying to keep the situation from escalating further. "But you need to take a break, Kain. You’ve been through a lot. Rest."

Zeph had known Aliseth for only two months, and he’d always exuded a cocky confidence, but this? This was different. Aliseth wasn’t alright, he was far from it. He could only imagine the weight of everything: the loss, the trauma. That kind of thing would rattle anyone.

Aliseth’s expression had gone blank, his thoughts, his mind, removed from this current situation. Or perhaps, he was simply trying not to think, not to remember, not to fall Nesna’s baiting. “She’s a blighter now.” he said, turning his empty, removed gaze onto Zeph. ”Not some guard-commanding noble, make sure you both remember that.” He said softly but firmly, a hint of attack on the edge of his words.

Seemingly recognizing that things were on their way to simmering down, Nesna said nothing more, though she let slip a single half-suppressed laugh accompanied by a dismissive little nod, as if to scoff, ‘So what?’

Zeph released Aliseth’s shoulder, his hand lingering for just a moment before he turned back to Nesna. His jaw had tightened at her petty tone, the sarcastic edge lingering in her words. Typical noble. She was baiting Aliseth, trying to poke at him further, and Zeph didn’t have the patience for it.

“You’re coming with me. Let’s go.” he said, his voice carrying a sharpness to it as he motioned for her to follow him out of the camp and to the pathway that led deeper into Dawnhaven.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

@Dark Light I'm gonna have to say no to a character run by Chatgpt

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Elara's Home / Residential Area

It was almost a relief to be sent away, to be denied entry. If only to be released from the tantalizing rhythm beneath Elara’s skin—and to spare her wounded ego. Sure, she had changed, but her appearance remained largely the same. The only difference was the shift in her eyes—the vibrant orange, the glow that never seemed to dim. The notion of being unmemorable stung.

She nodded, stepping back from the doorway, but paused mid-turn. Something in her shifted—an instinct, maybe. A gut feeling.

“Keep your door locked,” Kira advised, her voice low. “And stay inside. You’re not safe yet.”

She didn’t wait for a response before turning back to the snow-covered street, her thoughts swirling. It was naive to underestimate a blight-born's ability to lie in wait for their prey. Kira knew all too well. They were not safe. And she wasn’t sure they’d ever be safe again.

As she walked, she grimaced, her thoughts darkening. Her hunger was relentless now, gnawing at her insides like a constant, painful reminder. Elara, with her scent, had made that hunger flare to the surface again. The pull of it was suffocating. She shoved it down, carrying herself toward the center of town—where she had seen Flynn last with that pompous nobleman. She grimaced at the thought of him, wishing she could abandon this responsibility and feed.

The distant crunch of boots against the snow snapped her from her thoughts, and she froze, listening. The sound of metal boots, the unmistakable clink of a guard’s armor. Her gaze flicked to the right, locking onto the figure of a guard, one she recognized from the crime scene. His gaze swept the area, clearly searching for someone—or something.

She hesitated briefly, wondering if it was worth confronting him. Deciding to move closer, careful to keep her distance, she fixed her gaze on the large sword in his hands. “Guard—Have you seen the Prince?” she called out, her voice steady but with a hint of urgency.

As Kira slowly closed the distance between them, her eyes glowing faintly through the shadows, the sword he carried came into clearer view. The blade, long and imposing, seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, its shape familiar in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. It’s hilt worn, but the high-grade steel was unmistakable.

A sudden, vivid flash of memory gripped her. She saw the exact sword, the same sleek, lethal edge, clutched in the hands of a man charging at her. The rush of a violent encounter, the sound of boots pounding the snow, and the man’s snarling face. Behind him, a group of guards followed in pursuit, their faces filled with malice, but they were too slow. Kira’s hand was still slick with the blood of the man she’d just incapacitated, a dagger lodged deep in his liver, his breath bubbling in agony.

---

_{Interactions: Elara @Qia, Coswain @PrinceAlexus}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

@Theyra we love new characters! Haha Do you have discord? It's easiest to brainstorm there if so. Otherwise I can write up a list of possible roles. Are you leaning Aurelian or Lunarian? Blight born or human?

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eastern Gate

Zeph's brow furrowed as Nesna fumbled through oddly formal courtesies that starkly contrasted with her unsettling appearance. He studied her as she spoke, noting the strained refinement in her movements and words. ‘Was she noble once?’ The idea intrigued him. The blight spared no one, after all.

Her declaration about pursuing magic sent a prickle of unease down his spine. He had seen the power the blight granted these creatures—was teaching one of them magic a wise choice? For a moment, Zeph wondered if the Lead Sage would entertain such an idea. The Lady Hightower seemed to avoid the blight-born when she could. She seemed to be a sensible woman, despite her Aurelian heritage.

Nonetheless, it wasn’t his call to make. The Aurelian Prince would decide whether this creature was sent on their way or not. The responsibility of it all sounded like too much anyway. As Aliseth’s whisper reached his ears, Zeph leaned in, eyes still trained on the blight-born. She was docile for now, yes, but Zeph wasn’t about to lower his guard.

At the mention of the Princess’s disappearance and the death of Aliseth's partner, his eyes snapped to meet Aliseth’s gaze. His eyes widened beneath his helm as he stared at his brother, in shocked disbelief. His heart lurched at the thought of Abel—Dead? Could it be him? How? What had happened after they left the tavern?

Aliseth’s tone was calm, too calm. Unnatural. “What the fuck do you mean?” he whispered back through clenched teeth. “Kain, this can wa—”

It was too late, Aliseth was already set on talking to this blight-born further. ‘Does he think she had something to do with it?’ He looked over Nesna in the torch light, checking her for blood splatter—the same that speckled Aliseth’s armor. She was haggard, sure, but he found no sign of blood at first glance. ‘Did he not see the creature that attacked?’ Zeph's fingers twitched on the hilt of his sword.

When Aliseth moved to lead Nesna closer to the gatehouse, he glanced up toward the ramparts, where another guard stood watch with him, bow at the ready, observing the scene below.

“Lannis!” He called up, “Take the gate. I’ll be back.” he ordered, voice steady but betraying the faintest edge of urgency. Lannis gave a nod, shifting his position to take Zeph’s place at ground level.

Turning his attention back to Aliseth, his voice was firm. “Kain,” he called, using Aliseth’s last name. “The commanders need to know, now. Go inform them—I’ll handle her.” he gestured toward Nesna, his tone leaving little room for argument despite Aliseth holding a slightly higher rank.

“Either you go, or I will.”

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth @Dark Light, Nesna @enmuni}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder | Collaboration with @SpicyMeatball

Nyla slouched slightly in a booth near the center of the tavern, her hand curled around yet another glass of wine. The warmth of the alcohol buzzed through her veins as she ordered drink after drink, letting the liquid drown out her sorrows and soften the sharp edges of her thoughts. Over the last hour or so, she had lost track of the number of glasses she had consumed—was this her fourth? Fifth? Whatever it was, it was enough to put her into a pleasant haze.

The sound of Aldrick's music filled the air, wrapping itself around her like a bittersweet blanket. She watched him as she drank, his golden eyes focused, his fingers dancing over the strings with a precision and passion that only he could manage. At times, the music blurred into the background as her thoughts turned inward, heavy and muddled. She’d stare at him without truly seeing him, her mind wandering through fragments of the past. Then, with the next strum of Aldrick's lute, the melody would pull her back, her focus drawn to Aldrick and the lively patrons dancing and singing around him.

A nostalgic feeling grew in her chest, breaking through her otherwise solemn mood. The infectious energy of the tavern filled her with a sense of levity. It had been far too long since she’d last performed for a crowd like this, where joy came so easily. This—this moment—felt familiar, almost like home, if she had ever had one. She smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curling ever so slightly upward.

As Aldrick’s song drew to a close, he glanced up from his lute, his golden eyes catching hers across the room. For a heartbeat, everything else faded away. She raised her glass to him, a silent toast in his honor, her small smile and the look in her eyes carrying a knowing warmth. Despite the years, despite the transformations they had both endured, she recognized him. She always would.

Damn. That’s really her. Aldrick couldn’t help but grin as she raised a toast. Too many years had gone by since he’d seen Nyla. Too many years since they’d last performed together, and shared in each other’s company.

He took a graceful bow before the audience before stepping up onto a chair. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been too kind. This has been an incredible place to perform but I’m afraid I must take a brief intermission. Fear not! The music will return!”

The bard jumped down from the chair and snatched his mug of ale in one fell swoop before pacing towards where Nyla was sat. He took a large gulp of his hearty beverage as he walked. A warm smile grew across his face as it became more and more certain that the woman before him was no illusion or misplaced recognition. What little doubt in his mind was now gone.

Nyla’s heart skipped a beat as she noticed Aldrick weaving through the crowd toward her, his warm, golden gaze fixed on hers. She straightened in her seat instinctively, and brushed a stray strand of raven hair from her face, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Nyla. You are truly a sight for sore eyes among this otherwise completely unfamiliar place. I can not fully put into words the joy it brings me to see you again.” Despite the overwhelming emotions running through him, his words flowed like sweet wine. The noise of the tavern’s patrons seemed to fade away in the background as he took a seat across from her, outstretching a hand and placing it atop Nyla’s.

She couldn’t help but laugh softly at his heartfelt greeting—he was still as magnetic as she remembered him to be. “I’m glad to see you too, Aldrick.” She replied with a grin, her blue eyes alight with the exhilaration of seeing her old friend again. When he placed his hand atop hers, she hesitated, feeling the faint warmth it carried. It was a warmth, like her own, that no longer held the familiar, human heat they once shared.

“Please don’t be alarmed by my… … … otherworldly appearance. Certain parties did not appreciate the messages I was spreading and well… they tried—and succeeded—to kill me.”

Aldrick’s smile faltered for a moment and his eyes lowered to his drink. “It seems the goddesses had different plans however, for I have very much cheated death itself.” He returned his eyes to Nyla with an almost-cheesy grin. “That or death has a wicked sense of humor, bringing me back to enthrall the masses and stir chaos in the nobility once more.”

Her fingers turned under his, her palm now pressing against his as she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’d recognize your voice and your music anywhere, no matter how you might look.” she smiled, her gaze holding his.

Slowly, the genuine and warm look in her eyes shifted into something more playful. “Your mouth always did have a way of getting you into trouble, didn’t it?” she arched a brow and smirked, the subtle innuendo a nod to the intimacy they had once shared long ago.

Aldrick broke into a grin once more at her words, before raising his hands up in playful surrender. “Hey, it’s not my fault I’m far more handsome than the lords of Aurelia.” He leaned in a bit closer, looking into her eyes. “I don’t regret any of it.”

Nyla laughed softly, her gaze unwavering as she held his, making no move to retreat as he inched closer. Her voice quieted just slightly, carrying a teasing warmth. “And neither do I.”

As he spoke, her gaze flicked over his features, noting visible changes. He was so different from the man she had known. Yet beneath it all, he was still unmistakably Aldrick. She stared for a moment too long at his horns, her thoughts drifting to her own, hidden just beneath the illusion she so desperately clung to. A flicker of guilt stirred. The words she wanted to say swirled in her mind, but refused to form. He was being so open with her, and yet she still hid. She knew Aldrick would never judge her, yet she couldn’t quite find the courage to face her own reflection, let alone reveal it to him. Not yet. Not now.

“You still play as beautifully as I remember.” she said earnestly, her voice softening. Her expression faltered for a brief moment as she asked, “Do you plan to stay long, or will you be leaving soon?”

She tried to sound casual, but there was a faint vulnerability in her tone. She didn’t want to admit how much she hoped he’d stay, even if just to wait out the winter. Having someone familiar—someone who wasn’t Flynn—would mean more than she cared to admit.

“Trying to get rid of me already Nyla? I’m wounded.” He smiled, giving her a wink. She smiled, rolling her eyes playfully.

“But truthfully, I don’t know what my future holds. Since I’ve become what I am, I’ve wandered through many villages and towns only to be met with fear and distrust. My previous reputation and legacy remain in the past. They seemed to have died with me to most people.” Aldrick’s smile faded as he spoke. It was true disappointment visible on his face now, not acted or playful. He reached for his mug once more, taking a noticeably longer drink from it than before.

When he finished, his somber gaze remained on the table.

“Only time will tell if the sentiment remains, but the people of Dawnhaven have thus far been both welcoming to me and mostly indifferent to my appearance. I have no other place to lay my head these days. My parents passed not longer before I did, and a bard has little need of a farm that he will not be around to attend. I have only gold and my instruments to my name these days.”

Nyla’s smile slowly faded as she listened. She could empathize about having no place to call home and facing the fear or mistrust of others.

“I’m so sorry about your parents, Aldrick,” she said softly, watching as he stared at the table, his mind worlds away. She hesitated, wanting to say more, to tell him she understood what it felt like, to be seen as something other than yourself. But the words still caught in her throat. Instead, she just sat there.

A small smile returned to his face as his eyes returned to his friend. “In short, I don’t see myself going anywhere. Not anytime soon at least. And I appreciate your condolences. They died peacefully, and not long apart. They truly could not bear being apart from each other.”

She returned his smile with her own. “I’m glad to hear you’ll be staying awhile.” A subtle sense of relief settled in her chest, as if some unspoken weight had been lifted. Whatever else happened, at least Aldrick would be here. “I’ll be staying for the foreseeable future, too.”

Grabbing her wine glass, she raised it with a playful glint in her eyes. “To two wandering souls—who can’t seem to stay out of trouble.” she grinned at him as she offered her glass toward his mug. “May Dawnhaven survive us both.”

Aldrick raised his mug to the toast with a nod. “And may the tales of our exploits and mischief be taken to our graves.” The glasses clinked together with a soft chime, and he shot Nyla a grin before taking a healthy swig. She finished off what was left in her glass.

Setting her glass down, she took a steadying breath, the alcohol suddenly making itself more known. Leaning back slightly, she let her gaze drift to the front of the tavern, where both Aldrick and the puppeteers' performances had taken place. “Speaking of trouble,” she started, looking back to Aldrick, “what did you make of that puppet man from earlier?” She shook her head, a shiver running through her. “He gave me the creeps.”

Aldrick raised a brow before nodding. “He does make me feel a bit uneasy, truth be told. I can’t help but feel like that show had more to it than just a tale for the children. It seemed a bit… personal.” He tilted his head, looking back over his shoulder to the now empty place where he’d been performing from, as if it held any answers.

“That, and interrupting my act is absolutely unforgivable, obviously.”

Aldrick then paused for a moment in thought, his eyes wandering across the patrons of the tavern. He tilted his head a bit once more and looked back to Nyla inquisitively.

“The way he picked you from the crowd was also a bit odd. Have you crossed paths with him before?”

Without realizing it, Nyla nervously bit her lower lip and her gaze fell to the table, a small gesture that betrayed her thoughts. Unaware of how the alcohol had dulled her composure, she was likely being far more transparent than she intended, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

For a few moments her gaze lingered on the table, her thoughts seemingly elsewhere, a subtle sign that she might be holding something back. She hadn’t crossed paths with the puppeteer before—but Flynn… Flynn was another matter. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers absently fiddling with the edge of her jacket sleeve beneath the table.

“I didn’t know him,” she finally said, her voice steady but quieter. “Well—20 minutes prior to him interrupting you—he spoke to me when he first came into the tavern. Just in passing.” She shrugged, not thinking much of the interaction. Still, it was odd that he had called her on stage, out of all people there. Did Gadez—or Halcyon—know something? How could he? She wondered if the exchange of glances between her and the Prince had been too obvious. Had they drawn Gadez’s attention? Was that why he had chosen her?

Her mind spun with questions she dared not voice. Was it even appropriate to bring up her history with Flynn? It had been a secret even then, and now—well, things were more complicated. She felt the weight of it all pressing on her chest, begging to be let out. The truth lingered on the edge of her tongue, but she swallowed it down. This wasn’t the time, and she wasn’t sure if it ever would be. Yet, carrying all these secrets around felt heavier by the second. For a moment, she nearly gave in, the urge to confide in Aldrick almost overwhelming.

Instead, she glanced up as a waitress passed. Seizing the opportunity, she leaned forward, calling out, “Excuse me! Another round for us, please.” The waitress nodded, promising to return shortly, and Nyla offered her a grateful smile before turning back to Aldrick.

Aldrick made sure to catch the waitress’ attention before she walked off again. “Put it all under my name, please and thank you miss.” He gave her a nod before turning back to Nyla. “And before you protest, today’s beverages are on my mum and dad. I have a healthy bit of coin from selling the farm. This is the least I can do for a long lost friend.”

She smiled, her gaze softened as she met his golden eyes. “Fine, fine.”

As the alcohol continued to loosen her guard, she felt a pang of gratitude—whether from the drinks or the warmth of his presence, she couldn’t tell. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

“The feeling is mutual. I’ve missed your company Nyla.” The bard replied warmly with the slight bow of his head before finishing the last of his drink. As his awareness of the surrounding tavern returned, Aldrick couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. Sure, there were voices everywhere and thoughts could easily be lost among them. But it was still just… … … too quiet for his tastes.

“This place, while lovely, could do with a bit more… life to it, don’t you think?” He shot his signature grin at Nyla before turning his eyes back to the crowd. “Yes, I do believe it could do with just a touch more…” He paused, though clearly for playful and dramatic effect as he feigned trying to find the right word.

“Magic.” His golden eyes seemed to glow brighter momentarily as the word left his lips.

The bard stood from his place abruptly and yet with a cat’s grace. With the smile never leaving his face, he turned and took a gentle bow towards Nyla. As he did, he extended his arm towards her and offered his hand. Behind him, thin wisps of light began to dance around both his lute and violin, carrying them gently in the air. An act he had not performed in years and one he could not sustain for more than a handful of minutes without the sun’s presence.

But today? Today he felt was deserving of such a feat. And moreso, his friend was deserving of it.

“My lovely lady, would you join me for a dance?”

Nyla's eyes widened slightly, captivated by the ethereal glow of light that seemed to breathe life into Aldrick’s instruments. She couldn’t help but wonder—was this a gift born from his transformation, or had he mastered a new art in the time they’d been apart?

Her thoughts lingered only briefly before his warm smile drew her gaze back to him. Without hesitation, she slipped her hand into his. Rising from her seat, she returned his grin. “I’d be honored.”

The moment she stood, a slight wobble in her step reminded her of just how much she’d indulged, but she steadied herself quickly. Dancing while intoxicated was hardly new territory for her, though Aldrick’s hand in hers offered a sense of grounding too. Excitement fluttered in her chest as she let him lead her toward the center of the room, where others had swayed to his music earlier. It had been far too long since she’d danced for her own enjoyment.

Aldrick released Nyla’s hand for a moment as they stood. He sent her a cheeky wink before turning to face the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen I do believe that is a long enough intermission as any.” He called out across the crowd.

“Now, may I present the main event!” And with his words he began to clap along to a moderate tempo, his eyes looking across the audience. Though words were unspoken, his request was clear. Slowly but surely the crowd began to clap at the same beat. A moment later, Aldrick’s lute, violin and kick-drum soared above the crowd surrounded by the almost-angelic glow of light-magic. Another moment and they began to play, hovering just inches above the patrons’ heads.

Nyla watched in awe, her lips parting in amazement before curling into a smile. "That's new."

[Song]

With this tune, he grabbed Nyla’s hand and gently dragged her into the crowd. There was no conscious thought or effort in the movement of his body as he began to lead her in a fast-paced jig. It was a casual, fun dance that they’d enjoyed thoroughly in their earlier years as friends and one that didn’t require much finesse. Mistakes were expected, even welcomed.

The bard’s head swayed with the rhythm, his golden eyes smiling almost as much as his mouth. Though the alcohol was certainly buzzing in his head, the music never faltered and its notes never off. The gentle rumble of feet on wood boards filled the room below the sound of the fast-paced tune, providing a much needed rich-ness and bass. For the percussion, many patrons still clapped along to the tempo provided by the kick-drum; it pounded away under the influence of the same light-magic.

Despite all the wine, her feet found the rhythm effortlessly. She matched Aldrick’s movements with ease, swaying when he swayed, their steps falling into perfect sync. Of everything she’d endured lately, this felt the most natural. A giggle escaped her as she twirled beneath his hand, feeling a burst of joy that threatened to take all her defenses down. For a moment, all her worries melted away, and it felt as though they’d slipped back into the past, reliving the carefree moments they once shared.

“You really have a gift, you know that?” she said through breathless laughter as they moved together in step, her cheeks slightly flushed. Her voice softened as she added, “Not just for music,” she added, glancing to the enchanted instruments before returning her gaze to him. “But for bringing life into a room. For making people feel… like this.” She gestured to the crowd, now cheering and dancing along, before spinning back into his arms with a grin.

“Making people feel like this is the reason I get out of bed every morning.” He smiled, his eyes taking in every moment. Time almost seemed to slow as he continued to dance. Sure he had danced, sang and played his heart out in the weeks leading up to his arrival in Dawnhaven. The small villages dotting the landscape still welcomed his presence despite his current appearance.

But the way he felt now, that was something he’d not felt in years. Happiness. True happiness. In this moment there was nothing else that mattered in the world. Seeing his long-lost friend enjoying herself as much as she was, it meant everything.

As the song began to wind down, Nyla felt a flicker of boldness rise within her. The music, the crowd, the atmosphere and the alcohol swirling through her veins all conspired against her. She stepped a little closer to Aldrick, her heart beating faster as she leaned in.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered, her voice soft as her gaze locked with his.

“As always, Nyla, you can tell me anything and I will take it to the grave if that is what you wish.” He whispered back, giving her a playful wink. It was clear that the alcohol was definitely having an affect on him as well. “I would never betray your trust.”

Nyla’s grin softened into something more tender as she intertwined her fingers with Aldrick’s, leaning into him for support as her balance wavered. Her forehead came to rest against his shoulder briefly, her eyes focusing on the ground beneath her feet. The gesture felt natural, a familiar closeness she didn’t have to think twice about. She let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes as the world seemed to spin just slightly. The secrets she carried felt too heavy, too insistent to be contained any longer. But did she really want to do this?

Straightening, she met his gaze with a softer, more vulnerable expression, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Come.”

Still holding his hand, she tugged him gently off the dance floor, weaving through the lively crowd. She followed the path that Flynn had taken her only a few hours ago, slipping into the back of the tavern, through the kitchen, and out the back door into the crisp, quiet night. The door closed softly behind them, muffling the sounds of the tavern within.

For a moment, she stood still, her fingers still laced with his as the moonlight illuminated the snowdrifts around them. Her breath formed soft puffs in the chilly air, and she looked at him, searching his eyes for a moment before releasing his hand.

Slowly, a faint shimmer began to surround her, golden flecks like tiny fireflies sparking to life around her. The glow dimly illuminated the space around them for a brief moment, the illusion she had been maintaining for so long beginning to fade as the lights began to flicker in and out of existence.

Her horns, black and gold, emerged atop her head. Pointed ears became visible, and butterfly-like wings unfurled from her back. Her skin shimmered with a faint golden, glittery hue, as if dusted with starlight. Intricate golden designs ran along her body, glowing softly with a metallic sheen that caught and reflected in the moonlight.

When the transformation was complete, the shimmering dust faded, leaving only her true form. The strain of upholding the illusion had lifted, leaving her with a fleeting feeling of weightlessness. She took a small step back, giving him a faint sheepish smile as she raised her hands slightly, gesturing toward herself in silent explanation.

Aldrick scanned her new features as they appeared, his expression was pure curiosity and marvel. How did I never think of masking my features with magic? He pondered for a moment with a grin on his face. You always were a clever one Nyla.

His golden eyes met her ocean blues, a smile ever present on his face. “I did not realize it was possible for you to become more breathtaking, Nyla.” He closed the distance between them, placing his hands gently on the side of her shoulders. Memories of their previous exploits filled his mind, his curiosity now fixed on figuring out just how Nyla, of all people, was taken by the Blight. He didn’t know of anyone who wanted her out of the picture. An accident then? Perhaps she wandered off the beaten trail too far. He shrugged internally. It was a mystery for another time.

“I can’t imagine the energy you spend trying to keep up the guise of your old self.” He gave her a reassuring smile, pulling her into an embrace. “You don’t have to hide, Nyla. Not from me in the least, and not from the people here from what I’ve seen.” His voice was kept quiet and soft in her ear, but the warmth in it was ever-present. There was no judgement in his tone, no disdain in his eyes. There was only the look of caring and unconditional love for one of his few remaining friends.

Nyla’s lips curved into a soft, playful smile at Aldrick’s compliment, her expression seeming to say, I don’t quite believe you, but I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. As he pulled her into his arms, she let herself melt into his embrace, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. Closing her eyes, she let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe her. He was right—it was exhausting. As the weight lifted, it felt as though she could physically feel the energy draining from her body, evaporating into the night air.

She lingered there for a few beats before speaking, savoring the moment. How long had it been since she had last been embraced by someone who actually cared for her?

“I suppose you’re right,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Yet, as the words left her lips, a pang of unease stirred in her chest. It still felt wrong.

Memories flashed in her mind—the piercing eyes of the noble spectators, whispers shared over wine glasses as they spoke about her. The way they looked at her as though she were a circus animal on display. She had been made into a spectacle, a creature to be marveled at and judged all at once, their fascination laced with disdain and disgust.

It wasn’t like the way crowds had once gazed at her on stage—back when she was human. Back then, their eyes had been filled with joy, captivated by her music and movement. She had basked in their admiration, wrapped in the euphoria of shared delight. It was different now.

Finally, she stood upright, still keeping her arms around him as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Her eyes shimmered with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty as she whispered, “Thank you, Aldrick.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the tavern door, and a spark of her usual mischief returned as her lips quirked into a faint smile. “You should probably head back—before they riot,” she teased, her tone light despite the heaviness lingering in her chest. “I’d hate to be blamed for stealing their bard away.”

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Tavern / Eastern Gate

Zeph shifted uncomfortably at his post outside the tavern, the cold seeping into his bones and making his armor feel heavier with every passing second. Nearby, Abel and Aliseth stood watch with him, two soldiers he had grown close with over the past two months. Together, they had shoveled snow for hours to prepare for the Sun Prince’s grand feast. A feast, Zeph thought bitterly, he had worked tirelessly to help prepare but hadn’t been able to partake in.

Watching someone walk into the tavern, he glanced toward the frosted windows. From inside, the warm glow of lanterns spilled onto the snow, accompanied by the faint sounds of music and laughter. The scent of roasted meats and fresh-baked pastries wafted through the door every time it opened, teasing him mercilessly.

He sighed, his hazel eyes scanning the crowd that gathered outside once more. He was supposed to be watching for threats, but it was hard to focus when he was so hungry and cold. It was sick and twisted to make a man do all this manual labor without sustenance!

That’s when he noticed her—Princess Amaya. She stood out like a jewel amidst the chaos, her presence commanding attention without effort. Zeph’s gaze lingered on her for a few beats, partly out of admiration and partly because he remembered the orders drilled into every guard in Dawnhaven: the Prince and Princess’s safety was paramount. It wasn’t his direct duty to shadow their every step, but every guard here was responsible for their safety. It was up to them to keep the two safe in this town that crawled with threats around every corner—even if it was the Prince’s fault that the town was dangerous in and of itself.

Not that Zeph believed the Princess needed his protection at that moment. She seemed perfectly at ease among the townsfolk. Still, keeping an eye on her was part of the job, and if that meant admiring a beautiful woman for a few minutes, well, who was he to complain?

Then his stomach growled, a low and pitiful sound, pulling him back to his immediate problem.

His eyes instinctively flicked toward the tavern, then back to his brothers, who remained oblivious to his inner debate. Both stood rigid, their eyes scanning the perimeter like true professionals. They had things handled. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to step inside—just for a moment. Just a few minutes, he told himself. He could step inside, grab something to eat, and be back before anyone even noticed.

With one last glance at the Princess to assure himself she was fine, Zeph shifted from his place by the door and slipped through the tavern door.

The warmth inside hit him with a welcoming embrace, chasing away the chill from his skin as he removed his helmet. The air was alive with laughter, music, and the rich aroma of freshly baked pastries. He paused for a moment, his eyes catching on the bard playing music at the front of the tavern—a blight-born, clearly, though the crowd didn’t seem to mind.

Zeph’s attention, however, was quickly stolen by a nearby table laden with food. He made a beeline for it, elated as a waitress offered him a cookie. He accepted it with a grin, biting into the soft, warm treat. Bliss.

He hadn’t meant to lose track of time. One pastry turned into two, then three. He lingered there for some time, enjoying the music and the warmth, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time all day. By the time he remembered where he was supposed to be, the bard had stopped playing his tunes and the chatter of the patrons grew to replace the noise.

“Fuck.” he cursed under his breath, shoving the last bite of a pastry into his mouth and hastily brushing crumbs from his hands. Panic flickered in his chest as he put his helmet back on, slipping back outside.

But when he returned to his post, Abel and Aliseth were gone—and so was Princess Amaya.

For a moment, he stood there in silence, the snow crunching under his boots as he scanned the area for their whereabouts. He’d been gone for what—ten minutes? Maybe twenty? It couldn’t have been longer than that.

Great. Now he would have no one to talk with while he stood here another hour longer.

He sighed, resuming his position. The Princess likely requested their assistance for something—the royals tended to be so needy. And Abel would give him hell for this later, he was sure of it.

“Hale.”

Zeph met eyes with another guard, Captain Varick—his superior, who narrowed angry dark brown eyes at him.

“Gate duty. Now.” Varick commanded, glaring daggers. Apparently Zeph had not gone unnoticed.

---

The eastern gate stood eerily quiet, blanketed in snow and shadows, with the wind whistling through the gaps in the wood and stone. Zeph exhaled slowly, watching his breath cloud and dissipate in the frigid night air. Gate duty. Of all the assignments he could have tonight, this was one he dreaded most. Long hours of staring into the dark, counting snowflakes as they fell in an endless spiral. He’d been at it for two hours now, and his stomach was already protesting, the pastries he’d snagged earlier had only been a temporary reprieve. If only he hadn’t gotten caught sneaking off at the tavern, he might have been warming up with a bowl of stew right now instead of freezing his ass off.

He sighed and glanced up at the moon, its pale light making the snow shimmer like a sea of tiny diamonds. Beautiful, sure, but it didn’t make him hate gate duty any less.

The crunch of snow pulled his attention, his hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of his sword. At first, there was nothing but the faint sound of the wind whistling through the trees. Then it came—a voice, soft and barely audible, carried on the wind.

His grip on the sword tightened as the figure came into view—a humanoid silhouette with broad, bat-like wings behind them. A doubled set of glowing eyes, cutting through the dark like lavender embers.

Blight-born.

He had seen plenty of them in Dawnhaven, and had fought more than a few in the past, too. They always set him on edge, no matter how harmless some claimed to be. This one was no exception.

“State your—” Zeph began, his voice steady, but before he could finish, a sharper, more authoritative voice rang out from behind him.

"Halt traveller! You have reached Dawnhaven. Declare your name and intentions."

Zeph glanced over his shoulder to see the source of the interruption. Aliseth, stepping forward from the shadows of the gatehouse. Zeph arched a brow, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes. For a moment, he wondered what had brought Aliseth to the gate. Was he here on orders too? Or did he want to talk about the Princess, perhaps? Zeph nearly smirked. It would be just like Aliseth to have some interesting tidbit to share about the mysterious ice Princess—hopefully something that would be juicy enough to brighten an otherwise dull night.

He couldn’t help but notice the tension in his friend's jaw, though, and the way his hand hovered above an empty scabbard. Where was his sword? Why had he come to the gate without one? Was that… blood? There was something off.

Zeph furrowed his brow in confusion, but didn’t speak up—not in front of the blight-born. He’d have to ask once they weren’t staring down a creature at the gate.

Zeph returned his focus to her, letting her appearance sink in. Her haggard appearance was hard to ignore—clothing patched and frayed, her figure hunched slightly as if weighed down by exhaustion. How long had she been living in the wilds? If he didn't know any better, he'd think her a damsel in distress.

“Well?” Zeph said, breaking the silence. His voice was casual, almost conversational. “You heard him. Name and intentions. We don’t bite—” he glanced sidelong at Aliseth, smirking faintly, “—unless, of course, you give us a reason to.”

---

_{Interactions: Aliseth @Dark Light, Nesna @enmuni}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

@Qia looks great! Go ahead and post her :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

@Dark Light go ahead and post him in the character tab! :)

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Elara's Home

Despite the calm expression on Elara’s face, Kira noticed the way she gripped the doorframe and heard the subtle rise in her heartbeat—practically felt it as if it were her own—a betrayal of the composure the handmaiden was attempting to project. Ever the protector, true to her core.

Kira’s fiery orange eyes lingered on the handmaiden for a moment longer, the heat of her gaze both a weapon and a tether, her thoughts spiraling further. Her senses tugged at her like a thread pulling taut. Urging her to step forward, move into Elara’s personal space, bare her fangs. It was maddening. That sound, that pulse that filled the space between them, called to something primal—a part of herself she had long fought to suppress.

Elara’s instinct not to trust Kira was right. She needed to leave.

The logical part of her screamed that staying was dangerous, that she already stood too close to the edge. A gentle push could send her tumbling into depths of darkness she had clawed herself out of and tried so hard to avoid. Yet, a sliver of her couldn’t seem to pull away, caught between the past and the present, between who she wanted to be and what she had become. That beast in the dark was not her. It couldn’t be her. It had no claim on her.

Still, the effort to hold it at bay was wearing thin.

Kira’s heart clenched when Elara’s question came, a pang of something sharp twisting in her chest. Her gaze stayed locked on Elara, drawn by those moonlit eyes that looked at her with guarded confusion. There was something soothing about them, a brief anchor against the storm raging inside, but the steady thrum of Elara’s pulse ruined it—taunting her, pulling her back to the edge.

Despite the decades spent burying emotions and mastering her mask, a crack formed. The faintest twitch of her lips, a furrow in her brow, and a flicker of sadness passed through her eyes before she could snuff it out. For a moment, Kira looked away, breaking the intensity of her gaze. The beast inside stirred, drawn to vulnerability, but Kira clenched her jaw and forced it down.

It was better this way, she told herself again. Better that Elara didn’t remember her. Safer. Cleaner. The person Elara had been to her—the beacon of warmth and light that had kept her afloat—didn’t need to know the ghost Kira had become.

She lifted her gaze again, her expression guarded once more, carefully neutral. “We’ve crossed paths before,” Kira said, steeling herself, her voice calm and carefully measured. She tilted her head slightly, as though she were recalling a trivial memory. “In the castle. A passing moment, really.” She shrugged, her voice nonchalant as if it were the most inconsequential thing in the world. The lie slid easily from her tongue, burning, but necessary. Safer—for both of them.

Before Elara could respond, Kira strategically attempted to shift the conversation, her tone softening just slightly. “Are you certain you don’t need help?” she asked, her words tinged with genuine concern despite her efforts to sound detached. She searched Elara’s eyes for the truth, though her heartbeat said enough. “I have healing herbs, or… do you need protection?”

Her eyes flicked briefly to the hand Elara still had braced against the doorframe. “The scene in the woods looked… grim. You’re not hurt, are you?”

She already knew the answer. The scent of blood clung to the air around Elara, but it wasn’t hers. Her own blood pulsed just beneath the skin—tempting but distant enough that Kira was able to hold herself back. If Elara had been hurt, Kira wouldn’t have been able to stay here.

Still, that didn’t mean Elara hadn’t been mentally shaken by witnessing such a harrowing scene. Kira had been trained to endure such horrors, but a handmaiden? She doubted Elara or the Princess were prepared for it.

As she waited for Elara to respond, the small silence allowed the sound of Elara’s pulse to overwhelm Kira’s senses once more. She could feel the beast stir beneath the surface, hungry, clawing for control, whispering sweet promises of relief, of release. Threatening to drag her under. Her own heartbeat skipped, and she was forced to steady her own breathing.

Just a little longer. Long enough to make sure Elara—and the Princess, she supposed—were safe. Then she would leave. Find someone more suited for this. She had to.

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_{Interactions: Elara @Qia}