The snow had stilled somewhat, gentle flakes falling down, the last remnants of an icy deluge that had buried the landscape. Dawnhaven sat in the center of it all, a chasm within the thick blanket that Aleksi waded through. Some hours had passed since he first laid eyes on this town, but his goal remained unchanged. When he left his people some few hundred yards back, he did so with the promise that he would find them sanctuary.

In times past, finding such safety would have been all but trifling with an army of raiders at his back. Circumstances were far different from before, they required a change in tactics. Aleksi loathed the prospect of having to grovel and prostrate himself, but he was prepared to do anything at this point for his tribe’s salvation, even a fleeting one.

Approaching closer to the gate he noted several tracks from horses, a sure sign of riders patrolling the outer perimeter, riders he was fortunate enough not to run across. He stopped short some few hundred feet before the gate, close enough to see several guards posted along the wall and in front of the gate.

The man set about lighting a torch to signal his approach, lest any wary archers attempt to shoot at any shadows that startle them. With flint in hand, he struck the rocks, their dazzling sparks igniting the makeshift cloth he wrapped around his walking stick. Fire lit, he began to make a careful and calm approach forward.

Snow crunched softly beneath the boots of patrolling guards as they made their slow circuits around the outer walls of Dawnhaven’s northern gate. High above them, archers walked the parapets with bows in hand, eyes sweeping the dark horizon.

The flicker of orange caught the attention of an archer first, and he stiffened. With the recent attack, it had left every man on edge.

“Light to the north!” he called to the rest of his comrades, his voice sharp with warning.

Several bows rose in unison, trained on the slow moving glow beyond the gate. One of the sentries whistled down to the guards posted below, and soon the message was relayed to the one currently in command.

As soon as Aleksi heard the first voice shouting, he stopped in his tracks. His torch had done the job, all he needed to do now, was wait.

Sergeant Langley sat atop a brown horse just inside the gate, his posture straight, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The moment the alert reached him, he gave a curt nod and barked out an order.

“Open the gates!”

The heavy doors groaned as they split apart, snow tumbling in from the edges as the guards pulled them wide enough for Langley to ride through. The Sergeant’s horse carried him forward at a steady trot, hooves muffled against the snowy road until he came to a halt just outside the perimeter.

In the cold dark, Langley’s eyes narrowed. He scanned the approaching figure’s silhouette, noting the furs and the large build. No horns, no tail… but that didn’t rule out much. These days, the blight-born came in countless demonic forms—some barely even perceptible! He shifted in his saddle, jaw tight.

“Halt!” Langley shouted, voice cutting through the still air. “Identify yourself and state your business, traveler.”

Aleksi’s eyes narrowed as the man on horseback approached him, the darkened armor of Lunaris emerging from the shadows as he began barking at him. The old man had mentioned that those of both nations resided here, the prince and princess of both leading the settlement. Despite knowing there was a chance he wouldn’t get an Aurelian, he fortunately was already prepared to handle difficult negotiations. Aleksi removed his fur lined hood and lowered the wool mask from his mouth, revealing his tattoos to the soldier.

The sergeant’s jaw tensed.
A tribal leader. Of course.

“I am Aleksi,” he answered, “I have come to negotiate safety and sanctuary for my people.” His words flowed out smoothly and clearly. Unlike the rest of his tribe, Aleksi had been born and raised into the common tongue long before the tribe took him in. This was one of the reasons he’d been selected to lead his people to safety, so he could be a bridge between two worlds; the old and the new.

Langley’s brows lifted slightly. His gaze swept the horizon behind Aleksi, scanning for movement in the shadows. When none revealed itself, he returned his eyes to the man’s.

He followed his statement to the guard with, “Where is the one they call Flynn Astaros? I would speak with him on this matter.” Lunarians are old enemies of the tribe, no use in subtleties when any misspoken phrase or unbidden step could land him in an early grave. For the moment, it was in Aleksi’s best interest to be direct in the face of steel and arrows.

“The Sun Prince is busy.” Langley replied flatly, voice hard as frost. A pause followed. The horse beneath him shifted and snorted in agitation, as if sensing the tension.

Accepting one person at a time into Dawnhaven was easy enough—but an entire tribe?

“How many have you brought?” he asked, carefully refraining from calling them tribal dogs.

Aleksi’s eyes narrowed, the tension in the air was palpable, but he pressed on against this barrier. “Enough mouths to be a concern…not enough blades to be a problem.” He raised his head, tilting it slightly, his eyes on the walls, mentally counting each arrow nocked. “You won’t find them and they will not come until safety is promised. A promise I will claim from your Sun Prince, one that holds weight.”

Langley’s brow furrowed. The answer didn’t sit right with him. He’d dealt with enough of these barbarians to know that they were always problems—heavily armed or not.

Yet it wasn’t his call to make.

Volkov had already reprimanded more than one soldier for disregarding the policies set forth by the Princess and her husband. Policies that seemed to welcome every stray with a sob story.

And the sergeant had no interest in landing on Volkov’s shit list—literally cleaning out shit from the stables. He hadn’t earned his rank by disobeying orders, and he wasn’t about to start now. At least this particular barbarian spoke the common tongue properly.

His gaze finally returned to the soldier, “If the sun is truly absent, perhaps the moon would attend me instead.” Something told him that would not be possible either, “or do I need to be more drastic and surrender myself into your custody to behold their glorious incandescence?” Just saying the word surrender felt wrong, but in dark times, desperate measures needed to be taken.

“Sanctuary isn’t given freely.” Langley said, voice gravel, sharpened by years of service. “You will speak to the Prince’s advisor first. If he doesn’t send you packing, perhaps you’ll get your audience.”

He turned his horse slightly, gesturing with a sharp nod toward the open gate now lit by torchlight. Archers still lingered on the parapets, bows lowered but strings taut.

“Come. Weapons stay sheathed, understood? No tricks, no games—or you’ll find yourself back in the wilds.”

Langley clicked his tongue and started forward, leading Aleksi toward the uncertain warmth of the city beyond.

Aleksi nodded, knowing full well the gravity of his situation, at least he was allowed to keep his weapons, even if the notion felt foolish. Perhaps this was the start of trust built on faith, a fragile one, but a start.

One foot after the other, he followed after the guard, one arm raised with a torch, the other calmly by his side. Warily he watched the guards, bows lowered, but eyes still alert. Fortunately for them, he was not here to cause trouble, too much was at stake for any missteps taken. As he crossed the threshold, the massive wooden gates creaked and groaned as the heavy wood closed him within the walls of the lion’s den.

Giving a sharp whistle over his shoulder, Langley reined his horse to a halt. From the top of the gate, two guards began to descend—one clad in Lunarian blackplate, the other in Aurelia’s shining silver.

Dismounting, Langley stepped down to meet Aleksi face-to-face. He was slightly shorter, but solidly built and no less imposing. The sergeant’s cold blue eyes lingered on the tattoos across the man's face, then flicked to the two younger guards who had joined them, both watching the new arrival warrily.

“Take this one to the watchpost,” Langley ordered flatly. Then, after a pause, he added with the faintest trace of disdain, “And send a runner to inform the Prince’s… blighted advisor.”

The old man had told him that blightborn lived here, that information alone nearly caused his group to schism further, but he was able to hold it together. Aleksi had assumed that maybe the blightborn here would be treated more like workers if not slaves, but to hold a high position like an advisor? It was an unexpected development, laid even further knowing he’d have to speak with this advisor first. Aleksi’s grip tightened around his torch, his confidence undeterred as the two guards led him to his destination.

---

_{Mentions: Orion @Qia}

Tia had to admit that Elio was right – he was indeed a very good windbreak.

Walking beside him, sheltered from the winter air by his towering form and radiating heat, she was too aware of her skinny, sleeved arm looped around his. She tried very hard not to shift awkwardly and draw attention to herself as they walked, but she was pretty sure the end result was just an overly stiff and unnatural posture. Tia let in a slow breath, and it formed a soft, billowing cloud as she exhaled.

He was just very polite, she told herself.

And large.

And handsome.

Glancing at him out of the corner of, she traced his profile – a straight nose, sharp jaw, high cheekbones…

And an idle, relaxed smile beneath eyes that seemed far too bright. Those eyes flicked over to her, catching hers in a way that stilled her breath.

Tia’s gaze snapped away, back to the snow covered path. The breeze seemed all the more biting, for how it stung against her warm cheeks.

“So, Priestess,” came his smooth voice, jolting her from her thoughts, “what calls you to the jail? Sightseeing?” Humor lightly stained his voice, a quiet invitation to share his joke – but Tia felt it brush roughly against the truth she tried to keep hidden.

Hesitating, she thought of Gadez – his ghostly eyes, his gentle smile as he looked at her… his damning words, softly sliding into place like a lock clicking shut, sealing his fate before Dyna hauled him away.

“Pastoral visit,” she finally offered. It wasn’t… technically untrue, but the words tasted too much like a lie on her tongue. She wanted the winter wind to smother them.

Elio didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, Tia thought that perhaps her hopes had been answered and he hadn’t heard her.

“Generous of you, to brave the cold for a prisoner.”

His deep voice was light and conversational – but softer. Almost thoughtful. His amber gaze flicked to Tia briefly and she felt it like a brand. She gave him her best attempt at a polite smile in response, words catching in her throat. But the next moment he looked forward again, back down the path leading them towards their destination.

The silence lapsed. Tia felt it settle over her, not quite suffocating, but too heavy to be comfortable. But the mountain beside her didn’t push. He let the quiet sit, broken only by the soft sounds of life that even this winter landscape created – the crunch of snow beneath their feet, the gentle rattle of wind through the pine trees, even the breeze tugging at her hair and blowing past her ears, private sounds only given life because she was there to hear it.

Tia let herself sink into the moment – tried to quiet her whirring, self-conscious thoughts as Elio escorted her. Words spun in Tia’s mind, half-formed ideas of what she could say or offer to fill the silence, the awkward space that she’d created by failing as a proper conversation partner because she was too nervous about all her secrets–

Impulsively, Tia turned her face up to Elio, lips parted – only for the breeze to blow her hair directly into her face. Sputtering, Tia stuck out her tongue, trying to pull the pale strands from her mouth.

There was a low, rumbling laugh as Elio pulled them to a stop on the path. The heat pooling in Tia’s cheeks only deepened as hard-edged fingers drifted lightly across her forehead, catching the errant hair and pulling it away.

Coal-dark met flashing embers as Tia looked up at him, her arm still entwined about his.

This all seemed like a terrible idea, suddenly.

The corner of his mouth quirked up.

“Come on,” he murmured, eyes still too sharp against the easy curve of his smile. He tilted his head to the side, gesturing off the path towards a row of dark buildings – storage, or barracks, or… something. “Let’s get out of this wind for a bit.”

Tia’s eyes widened, panic surging. The heavy silence between them suddenly seemed too warm.

Looking between Elio and the buildings – unpopulated, out of sight, enclosed – her lips parted, her free hand already raising to try and give as polite a denial as she could –

“Your hair, Priestess.”

Tia blinked. Pulling her eyes away from the buildings, she looked back up to Elio to find him holding up a black hair tie, an amused eyebrow raised as he watched her.

When… where…?

“Maybe your steps would be steadier if it was out of your face.”

Nerves still dancing under her skin, Tia eyed the dark hair tie – then cast her gaze over him, his black hair draping softly over his shoulders. The wind tugged at the ends lightly, a dark strand drifting over his face and cutting across his eyes. He barely seemed to notice it. He was too focused on her, his posture relaxed and his voice easy, as if it didn’t matter one way or another that she decided.

She hesitated. But when she looked away from the hair tie and back up to Elio, his smile seemed to grow.

“Besides,” he continued, “who knows when that prisoner will get a proper visit from one of Aelios’ own?”

Gadez’s face flashed through Tia’s mind – his chattering, his tattoo, his odd gentleness as he always seemed to place himself too close…

Refocusing on Elio, Tia found her cheeks warming for an entirely different reason. He waited patiently, thoughtless of the cold that surrounded them. The wind blowing lightly against their skin. The snow dusting against the tops of their heads.

Tia bit the inside of her lip. Lifting her free hand to smooth her hair in a self-conscious gesture, Tia glanced at Elio – and again towards the buildings he’d gestured to. Her fingers caught in a tangle woven by the wind.

“This impression might last a bit. Better make sure it’s a good one.”

She took Elio in again, warnings whispering in her mind. Despite how her sister worried, Tia wasn’t hopelessly naive. She knew the dangers were real – she had the scars to prove it. The world was a treacherous one, even in mundane ways – there had been risks well before the blight ever claimed a single acre of land. And Elio…

Large, imposing, forward, he practically commanded the very air around them. His eyes were still too bright and sharp, as he innocently held the hair tie. But his arm was relaxed, where hers was wrapped around it. And he’d been courteous so far…

Tia thought of those she’d encountered in Dawnhaven – threats and nightmares, predators with fangs, weapons hidden in words… not twenty minutes ago, Tia had sealed herself away with two people who by all rights could’ve devoured her.

And they’d been kind. Patient. Gadez was in jail for treason, but Tia knew that wasn’t the entirety of his character. The possibility of danger wasn’t enough to condemn someone – it wasn’t enough to deny someone the chance to do good.

Slowly, carefully, Tia pulled her arm away from Elio’s. He let it go without protest, ever watchful. Something flickered in his eyes, evaluating. The chill bit into Tia’s arm, even through the thick sleeve of her robe.

Elio took a step away from her – pulling away just as she had, granting her reprieve from his overwhelming presence. Tia felt the lack of heat immediately, the wind slipping more thoroughly around her, no longer in his shadow. His hand lowered to his side.

He still watched her with eyes like embers, waiting to learn how to adjust around her.

Another breeze wove around her, tangling her hair. Tensing in the cold, her hand shot up to catch her hair before it could whip in front of her face. When she opened her eyes again, she met Elio’s amused, patient smile with a shy one of her own.

Some of the hesitation melted in Tia’s eyes as she looked back at him. It was replaced by something softer – nervously hopeful that she could always rely on the best in people.

Finally she nodded.

Slipping his hands in his pockets, Elio’s smile grew. He took another step back away from Tia – towards the buildings off the path. Hiding her hands in her sleeves, Tia watched the shifting movements of his broad back with each step.

The crunching snow, the whispering wind, cradled Tia with their gentle reminders of life as she followed him.

The blonde woman had motioned for him to follow her, it made the nobleman raise an eyebrow. Since when was he supposed to let a commoner lead him? He was a noble, he should go first! But then… he began to think more about it. A few extra seconds at least.

This was akin to how he and Flynn were hunting in their youth on horseback, how they would saddle up on their high horses and literally be elevated above everyone elses heads. It made him feel nostalgic. Of course his horse was of a richer breed than Flynn's, that was likely why he saw to compensate it with all the decoration. He couldn't help but feel that Flynn, despite his royal blood at times felt insufficient in his presence. Thus the nobleman felt at ease letting this happen. Beside they were bestest of friends.

How they would have entered the forests with their bows at the ready. However the goddess clearly saw more promise in him than Flynn, that's why his bow was much harder to string than Flynn's for certain. The hunting dogs did do well at hunting deer, but Flynn always managed to fling his arrow first due to his clear advantage in gear!

The nobleman furrowed his eyebrows as he kept following Dyna, forgetting about addressing her or memorizing the way they were going. That he had been forced to jam one of his own arrows into the already dead deer to prove that he had in fact hit it. It wasn't his fault that the goddess had bestowed him with the guile of a divine consort. Even Flynn was unable to tell. But then again. Outscoring royalty was frowned upon. Even by the most prestigious families. He recall his own words to Flynn back then.

'It would appear despite my perfectly aimed arrow, this deer in particular seemed defiant enough to not be felled by one arrow, and thus your highness was able to finish it. Well done!' He thought back on his words and smiled. Those were the good old day when the sun still shone and- Now he realized why he was remembered of a hunt. Following Dyna was like following a dog. A hunting dog.

He slammed his empty fist into the palm of his other hand as he came to the realization. Which came just around the same time that Dyna motioned to the more private section of the hot spring at the very top.

The nobleman's eyes began to sparkle like only privileged noble eyes would, his eyes wandered over it. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps this girl was in fact serving his goddess, maybe she saw something useful in her. The nobleman blushed as he pondered on it. Aelios had known he would visit and had prepared a servant to greet him, and made sure she were of a lower birth and rank than himself so that he wouldn't feel being less than what he were. He felt a sudden warmth that almost took him off-guard, and he wasn't the type of man to ever be caught off-guard. He had only felt these feeling towards himself before. Coming to think of it, he had such a feeling at the marketplace the other day. Wait a moment. This blonde woman was present. He may have been drunk from his wine. He thought he had seen double, but no. This woman definitely had horns back then. And now she didn't. By the goddess. Aelios had cured her of the blight.

The nobleman's eyes widened. That meant he was likely the cure to the blight himself. For who amongst Aelios choosen would have nobler, purer blood than him? No one!

He had to find Flynn and tell the news! But first he had to bathe. Ayel set his ever precious noble eyes on Dyna for a moment before looking over the private section of the hotspring. "You have my gratitude, which is a reward in itself, you may be dismissed. However I would also like you to make sure to not allow any animals in here while I am enjoying the view." He looked down at the water, even if it was steamy, he could make out the perfect structure of his face in the watery reflection. And then he turned to Dyna, who had left. Just when did she leave? Had she left before he had finished his speech of gratitude even? He felt like gritting his teeth. Those uncultured rude commoners. But in this case perhaps Aelios had some less important task for her like tending to the latrine or bathe that guardsman. Perhaps she had returned to stand where she initially stood?

He shook his head, whilst rich he couldn't afford any more moments thinking about it. He began to undress and in his horror couldn't find a place to hang up his noble attire. Putting them on the stones was not an option. Not only could they get splashed but only commoners placed their clothes on the ground. He chuckled as he imagined those northern barbarians bathing, if they even did. Likely fully clad in their clothes.

He spotted a torch being held at a nearby wooden post with an iron holding piece on it. That was perfect for hanging up his attire and hat. He reached up with all his height and grabbed the crude looking torch and looked for a trash-barrel. But upon not finding any, he couldn't put it into the water to put it out, he just tossed it away. Somewhere over the other end of the outside of the building. Or was it the forest? Either way. He was rid of it right now.

He fully undressed and his hat, corset and rest of his attire was hung up on the torch handle. He put his exepensive jewelry into his pouch which he put into his coat, before he was fully undressed and went over towards the water. 'I shall descend into Aelios holy water with grace befitting of a lord-' He thought and then he felt that his previous slow pace began to speed up drastically. The stone he had stepped on had been misplaced by some underhanded mason. He didn't slip.

The noble fell into the spring headfirst and then his head popped up, his hair over his eyes. He reached up to attempt to fix his locks which were now drenched. He pulled his hair back.

"Wretched craftmanshi- Wait a moment." He said aloud, another brilliant thought entered his head. Perhaps it was not so badly crafted. He had thought himself as a lord... Aelios had gotten displeased. He was a consort to be, not a lord. He had for a moment forgotten his importance and place in the world, and the goddess in her attention upon him had given him a reminder. It all now made sense to him. He clasped both his hands together and looked at the dark sky. "Praise the sun!" Then the nobleman tried to move to the border of the upper spring section, looking down at the regular spring below.

Wonderful. It was wonderful. He felt truly like a god watching down from above. He could likely behold all those unclean and undeserving commoners from up here. Perhaps that priestess of the other day could be bringing him cheese and wine up here on a platter. The more he thought about it. Perhaps having those savages bathe below was a good idea after all. He could distinguish himself from them, and watch them beat and fight each other. Like gladiatorial combat. A crude sport. But they were crude creatures. How fitting.

The marquess smirked and relaxed. Nothing was going to ruin this moment for him. He was getting what he deserved. He had to find his friend later and relay his theory that made all the sense in the world, that he… himself was the cure for the blight. Maybe a single drop of blood could cure all ills? Wait a moment. He could make a fortune selling a cure! He could put the price high enough so only the rich and successful could buy them!

A plan began to take shape. A master plan even.

Flynn didn’t interrupt.

He watched, silent, letting Halcyon speak—letting him mock, muse, and meander his way through this new performance. Flynn’s green eyes followed every movement as Halcyon turned his back to them, flinging his tirade with casual ease, like time itself was his to waste.

Somewhere beneath the layers of Halcyon’s all-knowing persona and maddening self-importance, a few things stood out.

Flynn resisted the urge to glance at Amaya when Halcyon mentioned her taking the attacker into her own hands. Her grip around his hand tightened slightly, eyes cold and flat as the puppeteer’s words washed over her. The memory of how he and Elara had pleaded with her not to put herself in danger again resurfaced. How she had pushed back, defiant as ever, unwilling to entertain the idea that her life was worth spending valuable resources on. Or, seemingly, that she might be important to this world—to them.

He shoved the memory down.

When Halcyon claimed he hadn’t known of the attack itself, Flynn’s annoyance ebbed, just slightly. He wasn’t sure he believed a word of it, but he quietly folded away the detail that Halcyon had helped the Priestess.

Then Halcyon brought up his father again.

Flynn tensed. The urge to defend his father surged like a reflex—hot and sharp in his chest, fire in his throat. But he swallowed it. Said nothing. Tried to remember the subtle warning Amaya had given him. His eyes remained fixed on Halcyon’s back, studying the tattoo.

He wasn’t sure if the man was truly mad, but one thing was becoming clearer: Dawnhaven mattered to him. Aurelia didn’t. And that raised a question Flynn had never let himself linger on for long: If lines were drawn—Dawnhaven on one side, Aurelia or Lunaris on the other—what would he do?

Would he choose? And if he did… where would Amaya stand?

The thought gripped something raw and tender in his chest. He shoved that down too. One crisis at a time.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steadier than before—less edged, but still distant. Still guarded. Still untrusting.

“I never said I blamed you for the attack,” he began. “But I do question your true motives. I question how far your so-called loyalty goes. And I question why you speak in riddles instead of speaking plainly.”

He paused, gaze narrowing.

A glance toward Daphne, as she quietly offered Amaya a chair. Then toward Amaya herself, gauging her expression—ever watchful for any flicker of emotion she might let slip through body language rather than words.

The Princess pulled her eyes away from Halcyon to once again take in the tall Lunarian guard – tried to swallow down her nervous energy, her swirling emotions as the guard’s familiar armor glinted in the candlelight.

The guard on one side, Halcyon and his torrent of words on the other… Amaya fought the urge to step closer into Flynn’s side.

But as she tried to control herself, to wall herself carefully away and keep her reactions and thoughts hidden – there was that gaping void where her magic should’ve been. An absence of force to push again, an emptiness as her grip tightened reflexively around nothing at all. It was more distracting than if there’d been a storm to weather.

She tried to step back and take in the scene as she felt the weight of their attention on her. Flynn and his stubborn fierceness. Halcyon and his barbed words and outlandish claims – and the tattoo that he seemed to brandish like a weapon in its own right. The guard, awkward and out of place as she continued to insert herself in the mens’ heated discussion and offered… consideration. A kindness presented to Amaya, unnaturally inserted into a space where it didn’t belong.

But given all the same.

Part of her – proud and untrusting, too ready to take offense that she had been offered a chair alone – wanted to decline on principle. Wanted to shrink away from this guard and what her armor represented, wanted to search her soft, awkwardly given words for razor edges. Why else would her words sink so sharply into Amaya’s core, if not for a hidden blade?

“Thank you for the offer,” she finally said, a soft smile pulling at her lips. Her free hand came to touch gently against the back of Flynn’s palm, just a moment before she turned to meet his eyes. “But perhaps I should step outside, instead. The runes are quite taxing.” Her gaze was steady as she held Flynn’s.

His brows pulled together faintly, a wave of unease tightening in his chest. Searching her eyes, he silently questioned the choice.

But he’d said she should stand where she chose to, hadn't he? And if this was her choice... he gave a small nod, barely visible.

It wasn’t a lie – the runes were distracting. Disorienting. Emptied of her magic, Amaya felt too thin and insubstantial, too… powerless. A mote of dust in the air, invisible but for when a strand of light shined on it.

But the guard was a distraction too, with how she kept chiming in as Flynn tried to hold the interrogation. Worse yet, she was a set of unknown eyes and ears – Lunarian, at that. The thought twisted something bitter and complicated in her gut. She thought of the Lunarians they’d come across today – people who were meant to be her subjects, her priority.

But Halcyon was throwing out accusations and claims about Flynn’s family. Unsubstantiated or not, whether Flynn was concerned or not… perhaps this was a conversation best had in private. Away from ears that might listen for potential leverage against the Aurelian royal family.

And Flynn… well, something told her that whatever she missed of the conversation by leaving now, he’d likely inform her later. The thought was another knife between her ribs.

Amaya cast one last glance at Halcyon and his eyes that seemed too piercing. His smile that seemed too knowing. He sent a chill through her, even as she remembered the way he’d stood over her, a threat in his eyes as he’d warned her attacker away.

Pulling her eyes away from him finally, hands still tight around Flynn’s, she finally turned her attention back to the guard.

“Would you escort me?”

The guard, guileless and unassuming as she’d seemed throughout this entire interaction, nodded easily and stepped towards them. Amaya couldn’t help the way she shifted slightly towards Flynn in response. But the guard only handed him the key to Halcyon’s cell, with the simple request to return it to her upon their departure. Then she looked to Amaya expectantly, waiting to follow her cue.

She hesitated. Her fingers were reluctant to unwind themselves from Flynn’s. She turned to meet her green gaze, focused on her as intently as ever. Her expression flickered – then with one final squeeze, Amaya forced herself to let go.

Sliding the cell key into his pocket, Flynn watched them leave, silently committing the guard’s face to memory. Amaya was in her care now. And the thought twisted something in his gut.

Their footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor as the two women made their way to the door, out into the Lunarian landscape. And then the door clicked shut and the Aurelians were alone.

The space beside him felt hollow. His hand cold. Her absence visceral where her fingers had once fit between his. Her silent counsel, gone with her.

He’d try his best to hold onto it, even without her beside him.

Turning his attention back to Halcyon, Flynn studied the man in the low light.

“If you’re so truthful,” Flynn said, “then why do you call me brother? You’ve offered no proof. I’ve seen more than enough people claim royal blood to know how often it’s a lie. So is that all this is, then? A ploy to tarnish my father’s reputation—for some grudge you hold against him?”

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel, Daphne @PrinceAlexus}

Daphne

Jail

Cell block Blues

Daphne headed out after handing the key over, polite naturally though firm about the fact that it worked a certain way, it had an order about it and much as the Prince was well within his right to bend it, breaking it would just cause more headaches. After he was done the guard needed the key, otherwise the cell would be useless, they had a spare sure but having two keys running about the town in two hands?

That was asking for trouble and risks no one needed to run. One key, one guard, one person. It just made a simple sense.

As she was taught, authority was important but basix routine, structures and ways of working could be required. It was not too much to ask someone to return a key, make sure a door was locked or knock 3 times and confirm through the small window before the door was opened like at a previous time she worked guard duty to the criminal population.

“Of Course” She said and escorted the Princess out as cold air hot her face but also finally felt a surge as magic returned to her body, the speed and the clumsiness Vanished as her body began to react normally again. “Thank the goddess, I hate that feeling. Sorry, even experience never helps totally.” She could not help but say to herself and apologised to the young woman who was above her in the stations of life.

Daphne felt far more steady, less like she was impaired by a slow fog that affected her a small amount in every movement. She had grown so used to her abilities that their removal and her loss of them was unsettling. The guards' expression and nature grew a little more confident and less awkward outside of the magical suppression.

But now…what did she do as she seemed to have been elected the Princess guard until someone took over or Prince returned? Though she kept a close eye, the rush of magic could be intense as could its deprivation. “It helps Princess… it's not your noble fair…but it genuinely helps, it just seems to work.”

Daphne reached into a pouch and offered her some venison jerky, and took some to eat to prove she had not poisoned it.

Maybe it was a title risky but she did not need the Princess deciding to faint or fall ill on her watch, she had enough issues with a whole potential Royal show down going in in the cell block. Her mind ran to plans and ideas… she could take her to the Inn, it was hot and served a meal but then she caused a whole search? The wind and snow had backed off but it was hardly warm! Dawn Haven's darkness and the eternal winter had caused the climate to be lethally unforgiving.

A Squire, Sure had passed training about 3 times over in various gusises, been trained in various combat and other skills. However, the change and coming darkness had forced the guard to be deployed more and more, her more court education had been delayed and she and her master had been more and more deployed to active duty, security, guarding food and markets. So many other tasks that had caused much trouble as they faced dangers and challenges on every front.

The amount of threats they faced only added and the people grew more desperate.. day by day, that the Prince had according to some in Lunaris dawdled and delayed as they suffered to the advantage of the Sun king sussing his rivals to weaken under the pressure of a 1000 minor battles.

But the gods…they did not worry about such mortal problems and challenges. The goddess she was rather devout too but knew the kindness was not something the moon goddess was known for, do not expect miracles.

She looked about casting her eye out, to the threats, people and things moving about the area. Nothing dangerous she catalogued as she turned back to face the smaller royal woman, bundled in her far more expensive furs and clothes.

“Princess, I admit, I'm less trained in this, so, il ask. What do you want? I can escort you to the Inn, for a more comforting hot meal, wait here for the interrogation to end, any other thing within safe reason.” Daphne said and waited, she was plain but just decided to ask, what did she want, and what did she need? Market, bath, a favorite shop, Walk, anything else. Daphne would try to make them as safe as possible and still let the Princess do her own life and whatever a Princess did.

Daphne had to work from a place of very little, so let that person help you fill in the blanks.

…

Mentions.
@Dezuel@The Muse@c3p-0h

The former pirate captain had blinked as the bard shoved the coins into his handful hands.

'Well tha's nay common.' He thought as he heard Sya speaking to him from a little bit away, her words however fell on his ears in a way the reckless rogue found difficult to make out. Her name was Sya. That much he gathered, but what in the world were she saying to him.

'Seluna's booty wha' in tha world is she sayin'?' He blinked quickly. Couldn't people speak more like himself and be fully understood. It became clear to the experienced traveller that Sya, the serpentine owner of the landlocked ship that was the inn was a native landlubber, who spoke some variation of landlubberish.

But the former captain didn't get the chance to ask her about it, as the bard rose to his feet, so quickly that the pirate realized that the man was surely almost sober. A dangerous state of mind. A push. Or was it a shove. Claret didn't think of which it were, but he found himself against the nearby wall with the bard holding a hand against his chest.

The ex-pirate and swindler of others property was a man of great balance, but he was not a very heavy man. His constant running from the law haf kept his body in shape up until he died. And then somehow undied. He wasn't really sure, but he felt the hunger again. He needed blood.

Aldrick had pressed him against the wall, it made the former pirate feel a sense of worry. The last time he had been pressed up against the wall by a non-guardsman was the time he had tried to steal the coinpurses of a gang of courtesans in Aurelia and they had taken their revenge.

Surely this bard was not interested in him in that manner. He was interested in booty, he didn't want to end up like it, buried or not.

The underhanded swashbuckler had instinctively raised all his hands in an attempt to calm the situation, he couldn't let rumors spread of him fighting a fellow celebrity. Especially a bard. This bard was after all write his songs and epics. He just didn't know it yet.

He had to play it off in the coolest way he knew.

"Whoa... " He said in a laid back manner. No. That didn't quite sound right. "Whoa! Whoaaa!" That was better. He quickly brushed off and adjusted his coat as soon as Aldrick no longer touched him.

"Calm yarrself mate, ye seem a tad too sober, did ye wake up on tha' wrong side o' the bottle? Aye? An... me 'aven't been called lad fer at least some...uh...years... aye? Me be nah common reliever o' coin ye wound me shir'." He said with a slight tone of being disappointed and offended. He was at least an uncommon thief. But a thief wasn't truly enough to describe him, a thief stole things of value. While he relieved people of anything he could snatch that could serve the here and now need. With a few exceptions of course.

"But me shall be fetchin' ye tha' drink. Ye be in need o' it more than meself ye bull e'eaded storyteller o' me epic!" Claret adjusted the collar of his coat and then twirled on his boots, walking in direction of the bar, taking the long route so he could think.

That's when some guardsman came barging in through the main door, almost slamming the door in his face. Had he'd been completely sober it would had been nasty. The bard had spoken to him in a very cold and somewhat hostile tone. Claret concluded that the man obvioudly had some trouble stemming back to his mother. Why else would a man go out of his way to sing about other men's greatness and not search for it himself. The former pirate captain laid his eyes on the guardsman and the parchment he was carrying, before one of it was shoved into his many hands.

Free stuff. Great!

Claret unwrapped the parchment and set his eyes at the letters that made things that half of his old crew had no way knowing how to write or read. Thankfully the four-armed scoundrel knew how to do both, even a pirate captain had free time to do things, and he felt obligated to leave personal letters for each woman he had met and remembered, that they shouldn't be worried, he would likely come by eventually like a wave hitting the beach.

The parchment however was no letter of admiration, it was a summons. He felt honored. The highnesses of Dawnhaven had already learnt of his arrival and was now inviting him of all people for a personal meeting. Probably with some others. Now this was the kind of welcome a captain of his standing was waiting for. Buying Aldrick a drink would have to wait.

"Lasses and gentleladdies, 'fraid me must attend to a pressin' matter o' royal nature! Booty calls ye see! Someone buy the bard a drink or two! If ye dare take tha' bull by the 'orns. Aye! Rest ashured that meself will find a way back, so rest yer sweetycheeks all ye lasses, ye be seein' more o' me in jus' a lil while!" The pirate jingled with his newly aqquired coins in his pirate coat pocket as he made an attempt to leave the inn by the doorway.

It was all such a timely thing. The goddesses were smiling on him. If only they would do more than just smile. The man grinned and his thoughts began to dwell on things not clean enough for neither speech nor thought.

_{Location: In Front of Temple of Seluna}

---

---

Céline’s breathing had begun to stabilize as the two women approached the pair of them. Earlier the emotional stimulation from the temple had been too much, now as her senses calmed she was keenly aware of the hand pressed against her back, holding her steady through the waves.

“Advisor Orion. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Miss Elara, it wasn’t planned.”

A subtle tension had formed in the air, muddled slightly with the concern this woman, Elara, was feeling towards Céline. It wasn’t an animosity between the two, but apprehension, a guarded wariness. If it was simply a concern of him being a blightborn, Céline doubted the woman would have even approached them; but then was it Orion himself?

Though Céline couldn’t feel his emotions, it was obvious enough in Orion’s body language how guarded he seemed. Elara had only offered a potential solution to her problem, Orion had responded by pressing his body closer to hers. Céline quietly wondered if he felt it was truly necessary for him to put up walls in this moment, especially with someone he knew, or if it was simply in his nature to treat every encounter like a potential threat?

Her mind wandered back to their initial interaction, how he had snuck up on her unintentionally, placed her under his care to keep the guards attention off her. Though that interaction then was different from the one happening now, the commonality between the two is blightborn and humans. In both instances Orion put himself between her and the humans, given his station, it made sense for him to feel responsible for her safety. Despite how she appreciated the sentiment, she once again wondered the necessity of it all.

By now she’d regained her composure and her grip had slackened considerably. Céline’s eyes found Orion’s gaze and she gave as reassuring a smile as possible, her lingering hands giving his arm another squeeze. Her grip was no longer desperate, looking for support, this time it was gentler, more reassuring, a way to say ‘I’m okay now — we are okay now’. Slowly she pulled away from him, finding her own footing again as she turned her attention on the two women in front of them.

“Céline,” she started, her eyes settling on Elara, “My name,” she smiled and bowed her head slightly, “Thank you for taking the time to check on us, I was feeling rather nauseous and just needed a moment, but I’m doing better now.”

Now that her head wasn’t throbbing she took stock of the women in front of her. Both wore similar attire, though clearly not clergy and given Elara’s use of Orion’s title perhaps in service to nobility? Both young, thinly built, Elara’s hair as white as the landscape surrounding them, her unknown companion’s as dark as the skies above.

“It’s a pleasure to make both your acquaintance and I hope it’s not an issue for Orion to be here, I had asked him to come at my request,” she turned her attention back to Orion, gauging his reaction which continued to appear neutral; at least he didn’t seem perturbed. “I don’t need anything for myself, I’d only come to pay my respect to the dead, when Orion first told me about the guard, I—” Céline paused in her tracks, suddenly realizing where she was and who she was talking to. Potential handmaidens to nobility, both Lunarians, both just emerging from a Seluna temple, “I’m sorry, I…did either of you know the deceased?” Her gaze softened considerably, “If so I’m so sorry for your loss…”

---

_{Interacting with: Orion, Elara @Qia and Ramona @enmuni}

Elio didn’t invite Tia into one of the dark buildings, as she’d expected – instead, they slipped into the narrow alley between two of them, sheltered from the wind but not without the ambient torchlight that filled the air with a golden haze. The clouds parted just enough to see a sliver of moon, shining and silver.

Hair tie in hand, Elio turned around to face Tia when he was deep enough in the alley, eyes bright even under the shadow of the buildings. Tia paused several steps away from him, apprehension buzzing under her skin as she imagined the footprints lining the snow behind her, leading her here.

Elio’s smile was faint and amused. Unbothered. Unassuming. He raised the pointer finger of his free hand and drew a little circle in the air – turn around.

The moon slipped back behind a billowing grey cloud, its precious light stolen away as shadows filled the space. The hair tie spun idly between his fingers. His eyes were embers, with a light all their own.

Tia turned around.

Breath shallow in her chest, she held herself still as she listened to the steady crunch of his footsteps, bringing him closer to her. She thought that perhaps she could feel the heat of him at her back, even through her heavy layers. She could certainly feel his presence bearing down on her – the way her hair stood on end at his proximity. Her eyes were trained on the narrow hallway of light that spilled into the alley, dim and golden, an indistinct haze like mist hanging heavy in the mountains.

Finally his hands found her – slowly, one first, and then the other. Long fingers gathered the hair along her temples, blunt nails drifting lightly over her skin. Tia couldn’t help the way she tensed slightly at the contact, shoulders lifting. But the hands didn’t falter. Strand by strand, Elio carefully pulled Tia’s hair until all of it fell in a tangled cascade down her back. And then, with long, gentle motions, he began to comb his fingers through her hair.

It was quiet work – but not the sort of crushing, tense silence that Tia had found so suffocating on the path. It wasn’t quite comfortable – it was too… intimate for that. Too disorienting. What was she supposed to do with this moment in time, hidden away in an alley with a stranger as he ran callused hands through her hair?

Was this inappropriate? Likely.

But nothing was happening, she told herself. Not really.

Tia considered the mountain of a man behind her – sharp eyes and a measured smile, his presence filling the space like it was his to command. The sort of man who seemed like he was never hungry, because he was always lining up his next meal.

He seemed the type to play with his food.

Tia watched the snowflakes drift softly, eyes straight ahead as her face warmed. She tried to swallow, her cold fingers worrying around each other in front of her legs.

Elio’s fingers caught against a tangle, the tug reverberating against her scalp. Tia jumped – only for a solid hand to land on her shoulder, holding her in place. After a moment – too tense, too heavy – the hand withdrew and his attention returned to her hair.

“No one teaches Aurelians a damn thing about the snow.” He pushed the silence aside, as easily as he’d brushed the snow from her shoulders. It was almost like he was muttering it to himself – or scolding her. Tia blinked, not expecting his soft voice, or how close it sounded from behind her, above her head. But she kept herself still for him as he worked. “The cold makes the air drier than you’re used to,” he said, voice still low. “And going in and out of that temple all the time, the temperature changes will be damaging. You’ll need to be more careful with your hair.”

Tia almost nodded, but thought better of herself – he likely wouldn’t appreciate the movement. A thread of embarrassment wound through her, an automatic shyness at his tone, that he felt the need to educate her. But there was something curious wound up in it too.

She thought of his dark hair, the soft sheen of it beneath the glitter of snow. Who had taught Elio about the cold? A generous Lunarian? Another Aurelian, who’d started out sun-soaked and shivering as she was? Something warmed in Tia at the thought – she imagined herself sitting with the twins in their room, on one of their beds, aglow in the candlelight as they laughed and Tia passed on the knowledge Elio gave her now – it felt like a lifetime since they’d laughed together.

Little by little, she felt her shoulders relax, her tension slowly seeping out as Elio worked his way through the knots the wind had woven into her long hair. It was oddly soothing, as she allowed herself to sink into the feeling of hands in her hair, the gentle tug… the simple act of being cared for, even if it was by a stranger. When was the last time someone else had done her hair? Certainly not since it’d turned pale as the dawn.

She wondered what Elio saw as he combed through her hair – the first person to ever handle her new blonde strands. It still caught her off guard sometimes, when she glanced it in her periphery, expecting black hair to frame her face. Did it seem off to him? Unnatural in some unknowable way? Or did he think she’d been born with this – blonde hair was unheard of for someone purely of Ember Island heritage, but maybe he thought she was mixed. Maybe he didn’t know a thing about the islanders, and didn’t think to question it.

Maybe he didn’t see anything amiss with her at all.

There was something… oddly peaceful about the thought. That maybe, to every new person she met, she wasn’t… divided in their mind, into a before and an after.

Whole, and then broken.

Elio’s hands shifted in her hair, untangled to his satisfaction. Then, to her continued wonder, she felt the tug of a braid being woven.

A small, breathy laugh caught in her throat as her lips quirked up in an amused smile. The hands in her hair paused for a moment, before continuing.

“I admit, I’m surprised,” his low voice slipped through the silence again, “that a member of the clergy would bother with someone accused of treason.” The smile fell from Tia’s face. “Seems times as dark as these, there are plenty others more worthy of the Sun Church’s light.”

The glowing embers that had warmed Tia from the inside out dimmed.

Her fingers curled tighter around each other. He wasn’t… wrong, exactly. There were many in Dawnhaven who were desperate for a glimpse of sunlight. And while Tia didn’t know how to give them reassurances that Aelios hadn’t abandoned them, or that there was a plan, or that this crushing darkness would someday end if only they had the unshakable faith that she was meant to represent… she knew they deserved what she could give them – comfort. Healing. Perhaps even hope, if she was strong enough to offer it.

But the way his voice curled dismissively through the air as he spoke of Gadez – the implication that he was unworthy of her time because of a single mistake – twisted something in Tia’s chest, just as Elio slowly twisted her hair in his hands.

She tried to swallow with her ruined throat – a reminder that no matter what people thought about Tia’s hair, there would always be clear evidence that she was broken, indeed.

Careful not to move her head or neck, Tia unwound her fingers and pulled her notebook and pencil from her pocket. It was awkward to try and write like this, the open page held at an angle just high enough that she could look down at it without tilting her head, but she managed it well enough. Message complete, she held the book up so it was visible from over her shoulder for him.

Is light not the most meaningful among shadows?

She felt his hands still as he read. She tried to imagine the face he made, how his eyes might’ve flickered as he processed how she chose to communicate – what conclusions he might’ve drawn from it.

The silence lengthened as he read, longer than it should’ve taken him for a simple sentence. Tia fidgeted with the pencil held tightly between her fingers.

“If it’s wasted, is it still meaningful?” The words, though said as easily as everything else Elio had given her thus far, sank sharply into Tia with their callousness. She felt the light tugging at her hair again, the sign that Elio had returned to his work. “There’s so little light to go around these days, I’d expect you to guard it more jealously – have some discernment. Surely there’re those more deserving.”

There was that scolding tone again – but there was a harder edge to his words this time. Tia’s eyebrows pulled together as she brought the notebook back down and wrote another message for him.

That judgement is not mine to cast.

His response was nearly immediate this time, edged with humor that sliced through her like the cold. “You sure you’re a Priestess?”

She wanted to shrink away from him suddenly, as heat rose to her cheeks like shame. But he still had her hair in his hands.

There are those more suited for justice and punishment. My role is to offer what warmth I can. To all.

Even written out, Tia could hear her own meekness in the words, could see the muffled embarrassment in each thin line. She was suddenly thankful that her back was to him – that she didn’t have to try and meet his eyes.

“I suppose it’d make your job harder,” he said after another stretch of silence, “if you had to be both blade and bandage.” She tried not to flinch as she thought of the golden dagger hidden in her closet. “Never known a clergy member to offer much warmth, though. Shame, sure. Judgement. Sanctimoniousness.” Each word was another dizzying blow, and Tia was left reeling, trying to figure out how the conversation had taken such a harsh turn.

But before she could do more than blink rapidly, her shoulders lifting like she could shield herself, a weight was lightly tossed over her shoulder – her finished braid. Tia startled at the movement, twisting where she stood and taking a step back away from the towering man that filled the alley behind her. Like he was yet another stone wall. His eyes were bright against his tan skin, his dark hair. He had that same sharpness to his gaze, curled in his smile, even as the rest of his body seemed perfectly relaxed. Backlit, the shadow Tia cast was fuzzy and indistinct against his defined chest. It barely came up to his collarbones.

She pulled her eyes away, looking for an escape from his gaze. She found her hair. It was a jostling golden rope, each weave tight and even. The color seemed darker somehow – less pale, more substantial, with all the strands densely wound together. And at the bottom, just above the wisping ends of her hair, was Elio’s harband. It was a stark midnight against the dawn. Kindness. Care – or something like it.

She looked back up to the stonemason and his burning eyes. The echo of his words still stung where they’d struck her, a sharp contrast to how gently he’d handled her. He was too watchful of her for his hurtful words to have simply been a faux pas – he was being upsetting on purpose. But he didn’t immediately follow with more cruelty now. No… he just waited.

Realization clicked into place, buried beneath her anxious heartbeat and disorientation: she was being evaluated.

It made her want to hide away, and run back to the warmth of the temple. She wanted Dyna’s surety. Ranni’s devotion. But left to her own devices, under Elio’s calculating stare, Tia only felt startlingly inadequate. The scarf around her neck, hiding her scar from view, suddenly felt like it was strangling her. She heard the High Priest’s disappointed sigh as he turned away from her.

Elio watched expectantly – still waiting for her response. Snow glittered where it fell against his dark hair.

Hesitantly, Tia lifted her notebook again to write.

I apologize if previous encounters with the Church have left that impression. The Sun warms, but it can also burn, and turn harsh if one does not exercise care.

Had he been wronged in some way? Was he nursing a grudge? Tia had assumed him to be devout when she’d learned his name, but he hadn’t chosen it for himself – his parents had. Were they overzealous? Was his name an old wound that had never properly scarred over?

Tia watched his eyes dart briefly over the words before his smile turned wry.

“Sun’s not doing much of anything anymore, is it?” he mocked, gaze cutting back to her. It was an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu – Tia remembered the harsh man from the springs, and his taunts. “Maybe the moon folk have had it right all along – Seluna’s the one who’s actually stuck around. We would’ve all been better off forsaking Aelios years ago, I bet.”

“I disagree.” The frail words slipped out of her before she could stop them, as insubstantial as the fog she breathed.

Elio paused. When Tia did nothing but stare back at him, heart in her throat, he raised a dark eyebrow. Finally, she turned her attention back to her book, gaze flicking up at him nervously.

The Moon has had the sky to Herself for over a year now in Lunaris. Are Her people better for it?

Tia forced herself to watch his face as he read, weighing her words. Weighing her.

The corner of his lips quirked up. He finally met her gaze again, and it stilled Tia’s breath in her chest.

“If you ever find out, let me know.”

Tia didn’t know what to do with his murmured response. Her book lowered slightly as they stared at each other, gauging each other beneath the golden glow and silver moonlight. The snow never stopped falling.

“Come on,” he finally said. And just like that, the moment was broken. Elio pushed forwards, and it was all Tia could do to scramble out of his way and press herself against the wall of the building to let him pass. “Let’s get you to your prisoner.”

With that he exited the alley, back into the open air of Dawnhaven. Tia blinked after him, her heartbeat not quite settling as she let out a heavy, billowing breath. She watched him for a few steps – the way he moved with that same surety, how he seemed to command the space around him, the steady shifting of his muscles as he left her behind.

But he waited for her, when he made it back to the path. He didn’t bother to look back at her – hadn’t offered his arm, as he had when they’d first met. Instead he stood easily in the path, his sharp eyes examining the stones – the buildings – the snow.

Tia slipped her pencil into her hand against her notebook, her free fingers finding the soft ends of her hair as she watched him take up space – tall and solid, filling the slim window that the alley’s entrance created. Every warm and smokey color against Dawnhaven’s winter landscape.

Her fingers rose a little higher to find the hair tie – tight and neat, just as the rest of her braid was.

Those ember eyes finally found her again, tucked away in the shadows of the alley. His eyebrows raised expectantly. His gaze was as critical as ever.

Tia swallowed around the lump in her throat and released the hair tie. She forced herself to step forward, back into the path and the golden light of the torches that lined it.

Ayel Raunefeldt (@Dezuel) || Kale Grall (@Theyra)

The tension between the guard and nobleman heating up, Dyna quickly decided to swallow her pride as she stepped between the two. Fixing both with a firm, unyielding, stare. Men were... so quick to take up their blades when arguments grew heated. A situation she'd much prefer to avoid within the temple's sacred halls. For those able, or willing, to read the Champion's glare it demanded a simple order of those within her home.

STOP.

Then her attention was once more on the more irritating of the two inhabitants within her Temple. The Nobleman. "I'll show you to the baths, if you will follow me. I should, however, remind the both of you that Aelios would not smile upon strife within her temple... so please keep your thoughts to yourself for the time being." She said, before turning to lead Ayel off towards the baths. Leaving little to no room for arguments to be leveraged with her. While at the same time, sticking by close enough to ensure that the boys did, in fact, behave themselves. Fortunately for the Champion, all went about as smoothly as she could've hoped.

"Only the Priestesses shall enter, should their chores mandate it. Do not disturb their duties." Dyna's voice rang in a neutral, firm tone as she ignored his statement about dismissing her. Turning then, the Champion disappeared out the door she'd just led him through. The moment the door closed, Dyna set to work, collecting a piece of paper and scribbling down a small warning. Attaching it then to the sign outside the door to access the private baths, the Champion took a step back and allowed herself a small grin of satisfaction as she admired her work.

PEACOCK WARNING: ENTER AT RISK OF YOUR OWN SANITY.

Her sisters would understand the warning... wherever they were. She'd ranted enough about the irritating man the previous evening. Certainly, the comparison was downright impeccable, with how that damned noble strutted around flaunting his perceived self-importance. With a little shrug, Dyna turned away and her way back through the temple... ensuring to lock every door she didn't want the nobleman entering as she passed. Which, as it turned out, left the nobleman with access to the hot springs and the main chamber. Exactly as much access as he would need to pray, if his ego allowed that, and leave the Temple. A small breath of relief left her lips as the Champion turned to make her way towards the Guard from earlier. "Apologies for... that. Are you in need of spiritual assistance, or is there else that brought you here?" Dyna asked, her tone noticeably more polite than it had been when dealing with the previously tense situation.

Yet, a familiar tug on her mind quickly stole her attention. Turning on her heels a mere second before the Temple's main doors opened and a familiar presence came practically skipping the hall. A girl in Priestess' robes, but otherwise nearly identical in appearance to the champion... save for the horns and tail marking her as one of the blighted. In her hands, the girl clutched two pastries that quickly filled the main chambers with their sweet scent. One of the two already had two or three bites taken from it, while the other was nearly instantly thrust into Dyna's own hands.

Kale Grall (@Theyra)

---

^{Fade-To-Black Counter - 0}

---

"I know you haven't eaten, Sister, and I found a bakery selling these while dropping off the co-" She started to say, before suddenly realizing she felt two different presences throughout the temple. One, unfamiliar, and the other filled her heart with a sense of dread at the impending verbal assault. Quickly, the pastry was whipped around to be hidden behind her back as her head popped out to peak around Dyna towards the... guard? The Guard. Not one she recognized. Curiosity radiated throughout the temple, albeit it slightly muted compared to the previous day, as Ranni stepped around her sister to approach the man. As she walked, the Priestess' mind was almost entirely focused on trying to figure out how to mute her own telepathic presence. How to avoid influencing others unknowingly like she had been doing to the Princess the previous night.

"Ah, hello, I am Priestess Soleil. Did you need something from our Radiant Aelios today? It would be my pleasure to aid you in communion with her!" Ranni offered with a pleasant smile, even as her sister still seemed to be reeling from the rapid arrival and transition her sister had gone through. From caring sibling to warm priestess in the mere blink of an eye. Ranni felt her sibling reeling and looked back to offer a friendly smile and a mouthed 'Duty Calls'. Then once more she was focused on the guard before her, tail swishing behind herself in a clear indication of her curiosity about the man.

Then mere moments later, another firm knock was heard at the Temple doors... along with a call from a young-sounding man.

"I've a message to deliver to Priestess Ranni Soleil and Champion Dyna Soleil!"

Followed immediately by a sigh from the Champion as she turned to answer the door, mourning loss of a chance to try the pastry her sister had brought...

Nyla held her faint smile as Thalia delivered her final remark, watching the redhead step away with poise and casual dismissal. Nyla didn’t flinch beneath the bladed undertones left in her wake. She let it pass like a breeze—unaffected, maintaining her facial expression. As if she didn’t understand the barb. Didn’t feel the weight of it.

But she did.
And she’d remember it.

With Thalia’s back to her, Nyla slowly let the smile fade. Her expression went still—neutral and unreadable—as her gaze lingered on the woman’s straight spine and carefully measured stride.

A beat passed. Then a soft scoff escaped. “Charming,” she murmured under her breath.

When Thalia vanished around a corner, Nyla turned her gaze back to the tavern. She suspected now, with no small amount of irritation, that the mysterious man from the hot springs wouldn’t be making an appearance at all.

But the cold gnawed at her bones. And there were other (more boring) kinds of warmth she could chase.

She stepped inside, the scent of smoke and ale hitting her first. Her eyes swept the room—still annoyingly searching for dark hair and a crooked smile—and then halted.

Across the room, Aldrick was pressing a four-armed blight-born against the wall.

Her brow arched.

Gliding around a few loitering patrons, she claimed an empty table near the front door and set the basket of cookies in its center. Settling in, she rested her chin on her knuckles and observed.

Aldrick’s words didn’t carry to her, but the tension did. She’d seen him handle himself in tavern brawls a handful of times in the past. He was more clever than he let on, at times more ruthless than his charm suggested, and quick to pivot between grace and grit. But he wasn’t usually the one to instigate a fight.

It felt strange to see him playing the aggressor.

But whatever spark had caught seemed to fizzle out just as quickly. Words were exchanged. Aldrick stepped away and the blight-born moved around him—just in time for a guard to appear and deliver some type of parchment directly to him.

Nyla’s brow furrowed as the four-armed man loudly proclaimed he had royal matters to attend to. His theatrical flourish might’ve coaxed a laugh from her on any other day, were she not already narrowing her eyes on the guard tacking a notice to the tavern door.

As he stepped aside, her eyes scanned the parchment.

A summons for unregistered blight-born. The interview Flynn had told her about.

Her stomach turned.

She dropped her gaze to the table, the noise around her dulling. Laughter. Plates clinking. Chairs scraping wood. It all blurred together as her thoughts spiraled.

Flynn had asked her to attend the interview. And she’d said she would.

He wanted her to sit in a room and bare herself to him and his advisor—a stranger? Explain who she was—what she’d become. Let them see. Catalog it. Write it down and file it away in a drawer like she was something to be managed?

Another wave of nausea twisted through her.

Was it the summons? The reminder of Flynn and his new wife? Or maybe it was the cookies she’d forced herself to eat earlier—the performance food. She hadn’t even wanted them. She’d only needed to be seen eating. Needed to look alive.

Her mouth went dry. Her hand curled into a fist beneath her chin, nails biting into skin.

She had always been something to manage, hadn’t she?

No.
She wouldn’t go. Not today. Maybe not ever.

If Flynn wanted her there, he could come find her himself.

She didn’t owe him anything.

She could keep the illusion going forever if she had to. Outside of the few who mattered, no one needed to know what she’d become. All she had to do was keep smiling. Keep eating. Keep breathing like them. Her glamour hadn’t cracked yet. Not even when she was drunk.

She was, after all, just a performer.

She could hold it.

…Couldn’t she?

But she felt it—minute by minute—quiet and constant. The slow attrition of magic. The inevitable drain that would eventually strip warmth from her skin and brightness from her eyes.

Still. She wasn’t going to that fucking interview.

She’d rest. Let her stomach settle. Let her balance return.

Then she’d find herself a home. Something to call her own and pretend it meant she belonged here.

She wasn’t a footnote. She’d write her own damn chapter. With or without his approval.

---

_{Mentions: Thalia @Qia, Vellion @Dark Light, Aldrick @SpicyMeatball, Claret @Dezuel}

Gadez raised his right hand to his face and laughed softly. The Aurelian prince was providing him with such ample opportunities to offer retorts. The warrior-monk's opinion of the younger man had begun to take shape. But there were still no certainty if somewhere down the line, they would come to blows. King Auric had to die, and his kingdom brought to ruin. Not only for the sake of all those who would yet be born into the world, but for all those whose dreams and futures he had destroyed. A king would ultimately be held responsible, as any leader would. Like no doubt Flynn and Amaya would also be.

"You question my motives, my loyalty and my way with words? Yet have you ever questioned the motives of the Aurelian tyrant and the clergy of the sun goddess? Have you ever pondered on the possibility that you've been duped and spoonfed lies since birth. That the wretched excuse of a king has, and is still using you as an expendable puppet to serve a purpose he devised a long time ago..." Gadez said in a manner of fact tone, his hand trailing down his jawline. Then again. He too had been given a purpose, but it had not been by the same person.

That specter serene who had made his aspirations waver, if but for a brief time. A priestess cursed to live a cheated life. Her time robbed from her. Life was truly not fair, only death is fair. It comes for all, regardless which shape it takes. How long had he'd been dead? A man without a past to return to and no future to exist in. A specter. Just like her. For a moment his gaze wandered away from Flynn to look at the wall, he imagined her standing there. Looking at him with those grey yet gentle eyes, clad in her pure white long robe and dark long hair.

'I'll keep the promise I made to you... and the promise I made to myself.' He thought as his eyes settled back on Flynn.

"What of your own loyalty? Where does it ultimately lie? With Princess Maize? With the Aurelian king? Aurelia? Yourself? Or does it lie with Dawnhaven. I have already told you were my loyalty lies, because this is the only place in the world, where you can see both sides of the same coin. We live now upon the edge. I intend for the coin to remain in this state until it begins to change its form. Til the other two sides no longer exist. When all becomes one." He motioned with his left hand in a manner as if he was playing with an orb in the air.

"A man which sprout words of a common tongue tends to fall upon deaf ears, like the familiar sound of a bird chirping in the distance. You hear it. But you do not linger upon it, for you've heard it so many times, you know the tune it sings in the background. Yet a song sung in a concealed manner will catch your intrigue, for people crave to know that which seems to elude them. Immortality. Love beyond what is considered appropriate or expected. Alchemical secrets for a cure for all ills. Proof of the existance of the divine. The knowledge and power to revive the dead. The strength to ward off ones child against all harm. It all comes back to how a song is phrased and sung. You being here in this very moment, bringing it up shows that indeed it has nestled itself into your mind." The blonde man smiled softly, walking over and softly jabbing the stone wall with his hand.

"You ask for proof which may never truly be given in a physical sense. Yet you lunged at the seeming chance to save this world, believing in a prophecy well-wrapped by the clergy, believing in the Aurelian king's words. Where is your proof? Well, dear little brother. You find the proof in your own core, what you believe in... that is why despite your hesitation, your verbal denial and your clear disdain for my existance... nontheless have come asking for clarity. You merely asking me is showing me enough. That you do believe it to be true. No matter how much you would want it to be otherwise." Gadez placed his left hand by his waist, a smirk on his lips. There were many things he could tell the younger man, but there were a time and place for everything. No one like a book that spoils the ending in the first chapter. But in the book of Dawnhaven, who will ultimately be the villain that must be stopped? The blonde's thoughts fell on the precious stone. It didn't matter, as long as he would draw breath he would make sure to change this world. No matter what role he would end up having.

"In a way of looking at it, I am what you could have been. Much you are what I could have been. I left the stream, making my own, abandoning the path ordained to me by royal and divine decree, you however sailed along with it. And now we find ourselves at the lake where all rivers meet and we realize that it doesn't matter if one has or has not sprung from the same tree. What matters is what we choose to do with it. Our actions form who we truly become." He began to softly laugh, giving a slight twirl and spreading his arms in a way that only a circus performer could.

"As I told you before. The cure for the blight is acceptance, like one has to accept that death is a natural thing for all things that exist. However this fact does not sit well with the divine, or those which view themselves as such. Have you ever wondered what caused the skies to turn dark? What created the blight? It is both likely made by us mortals and the divine. A betrayal was made, a follower wanted to be in charge. A goddess fell. Her soul went one way, seeking a new temporary vessel. Her physical form was partly absorbed by this betrayer, a mortal claiming a part of what was not meant for it as their own in pursuit of lasting forever. Someone whose grown weary of the world and desire to change it in their image." He chuckled and walked as close as he could, to the bars separating him and Flynn.

"Aurelia and Lunaris. As long as we can remember, as old as a scroll may last, has always been regarded as opposites. Much like the two goddesses. They were most surely one whole at one point, held together by what I like to call a glue. Nothing is ever created as a half. This glue was at one point discarded and left in our world, and cause the whole to become two. This glue however must have felt Aelios fall, and acted upon it. Seizing what remained of her lingering divine power... to create... the blight. So in a way of looking at it, she is now most likely split between three beings. Her soul bearer. The betrayer. And The glue.

You know where it all began don't you? Under the earth of Aurelia. In an old forgotten temple beneath the capitol. Surely you must have felt it, like a heart beating in the dark, beckoning you towards it. Beyond a door that was never meant for mortal hands to open. Yet it did. But if belief is not enough for you, then by all means pursue a physical proof. If simply looking at the sky itself isn't enough." The blonde offered a bowing motion, his ghostly eyes settling on Flynn's eyes again.

Anora's steps slowed, her thoughts swirling in her head, and only snapped out of them when she thought she had seen a few figures in the disrance. But she had been out of earshot and they moved away swiftly. Was that Flynn? If it were then she had to change her direction and move back the way she came or down another path.

She decided to track her own footprints back and then passed by the jail. A group of individuals were located just outside of it. Guards by the look of it and well dressed woman with dark hair and dark skin.

Anora assumed a more ladylike walk as she got closer, her opened umbrella resting against her shoulder, her fur clad coat flickering in the wind, the snow flakes falling all around her. The nearby light of the torches reflecting off her pale smooth skin.

The young noblewoman offered the gathering a curt gesture by tipping her head and offering a slight nod.

Her fierce blue eyes wandered over the gathering, one woman towering over them all, but it wasn't her which Anora's gaze lingered on. It were the potent blue eyes of the dark skinned woman.

Were she there to visit- That man. The one that were locked up. The one who was trying to not only rattle his cage, but anyone outside of it too. Anora could't help but feel heavy at the thought of the man. She decided to shake the meeting from her mind and instead greeted the gathering as she passed. She wasn't sure if they were Lunarian or Aurelian, so she had to improvise a greeting.

"Warm winds to you all~" She said softly, giving them a faint smile as she proceeded past, hoping she could find Flynn. Somehow she knew he wasn't far off.

After having gotten away from the gathering outside the jail she laid eyes on two other individuals.

A tall darkhaired man with tanned skin, his appearance alone put Anora on the defensive. But his companion, a short woman was like his complete opposite, fair hair and meek looking. Were she in trouble?

Anora's eyebrows furrowed for. A moment, then allowed herself to don a more relaxed expression.

She called out to the duo as she came closer to them.

"Fair darklight eve to you~ Might I be so blunt as to ask you if you know where I may find his royal highness, Flynn Astaros?~" She gave to duo a soft smile and tilted her head to the side, her eyes momentarily closing.

She did want to find Flynn, but this was an ample opportunity to see if the woman was in any trouble with the charlatan scruffy looking man.

Anora's eyes soon opened again, her pale blue eyes searching Tia and Elio for answers.

"Pardon me. My name is Anora Raunefeldt." She said, knowing fully well that they probably knew of her brother. After all, who had not heard of her brother? He was after all quite the special individual.

She reached up with her free hand to move her dark hair from her face, including the blonde bangs of hair on the left side of her head.

The ever grateful and humble noble breathed out a sigh. Not of relief, but one of bother. The very important person section of the hotspring did not have any walls or a roof, so when he would speak to himself, he was not meant with the pleasant echo of his own voice.

A travesty, possibly even a crime. He would have to forward his grave concerns and legitimate criticism to the temple priestesses. Perhaps his lady, the ever- well the usually shimmering goddess of the sun wanted him to educate them. Like an experienced master would to his flock of witless students.

The darkhaired nobleman rose to his feet, basking in his own state of being. It was almost illegal to be as fortunate and blessed as he were. If only his mother could see him now. Not in the spring, but the wonders he would bring to Dawnhaven.

Ayel stepped out of the spring, and felt confident the water had now been graced even further by his flawless shape. The very thought made him chuckle as he looked for a towel. A towel. He did not bring a towel! Not even a piece of cloth to dry his regal goddess-given body.

A sheer moment of controllee panic filled him. He tried his best to breathe. He couldn't dress in his clothes, they would get wet and then freeze. Neither could he wait for himself to dry as it was too cold. The nobleman got back into the water, sank down with just his nose and eyes above the surface. He was cooking up a plan. Despite feeling like a piece of pork in a stew on the stove.

He couldn't even dry himself off with his coat, because then he would have to wait for it to dry by the big brazier in the main hall, not only that, people would see him and start gossiping like commoners usually would.

Gossip about him not being able to afford a towel and forced to use his coat would spread like wildfire. He would be the laughing stock in the refined noble circles. He could not let that happen.

He had to find a towel. He glanced down to the commoner section of the spring and frowned. No. Absolutely not. He would not dirty his pristine body with a towel for commoners.

He raised his left hand to his mouth, holding back the need to throw up.

No. He had to go and find a towel, the inside of the temple was still warm enough for him to traverse, despite lacking an attire. He scurried out of the water towards the door, opening it slightly and peeking outside.

How hard could it be to find a towel. What was it that the blonde servant woman had babbled about?

'Keep your thoughts to yourself... disturb priestesses for added duties...' He mentally phrased to himself. That did sound right. Due to his own voice in his head having taken rightious priority before when he was being escorted to the spring, he wasn't a hundred percent certain.

It made him for a moment feel a tinge of doubt in himself, but he soon after shook his head violently. She was just a vommon servant, those were definitely not worth his time.

The nobleman spotted the piece of paper placed on the door. Truly his perception were without equal.

He stretched out his statue-esque perfectly biologically made arm to snatch it. Then he read what was written on it. First he furrowed his eyebrows, this handwriting was worthy of his critique, but he had gotten used to Faldrin's writing. He was also a filthy commoner without proper writing precision and refinement.

'Peacock warning?! At the spring? Why would anyone be worried, I literally hunted most of them down in the forests near the capitol. My coat did require a large amount of feathers after all. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make. Besides my coat turned out perfectly.' He nodded and thought for a moment. This piece of paper could be used as an ample cover for him in his search for a towel.

He couldn't afford that noble-hungry blonde servant woman to spot him in all his glory. He was stunning after all, and commoner girls were known to fawn over charming rich noblemen like himself and possibly could hold themselves back.

The Marquess felt a cold shiver up his spine, was it the cold weather or the very idea of some unclean commoner coming into contact with his noble being. He wasn't certain. This lack of certainty made him worry. And worry led to rash ideas. And rash ideas led to mistakes. And mistakes led to- he didn't have time. He was getting that towel. He stepped out clad in the paper as his only shield.

"Servant! I demand a towel of exquisite material!" He called out. He felt at ease. With this he would show he did not forget a towel, no he demanded the servants to serve him. Perfect. The door clicked behind him.

"Hm?"

Kale watched the whole scene, anger in his blood and while it would have been nice to see the arrogant Ayel get thrown out of the temple. It looked like that will not be the case, unfortunately. But at least the troublesome noble is out of his hair and sight. Plus, without anymore trouble or problems. For now and maybe his first posting will get better now that Ayel is gone. Though the day is still young and that remains to be seen.

Still, when the Champion came over and addressed him. He calmed down and spoke in a respectful tone. "Hello, there, I am Kale, and my reason for being here is not for spiritual assistance but..." Kale would have finished his sentence, but a newcomer had come to the temple, and quickly the Champion's attention turned to her.

Another face that Kale did not know but, looked insanely close to the Champion he had just met. Like they were twins bearing some differences, but both were beautiful. Though Kale noted the newcomer had pointed ears, two black horns, and other unnatural features. She had to be a blightborn that he had heard of, but dressed like a priestess. They allow blightborn priestess? The thought appeared in his mind, I guess they do. Kale realized and tried not to stare at the blightborn's features.

When the priestess approached him, and talked to him. He replied in the same respectful manner. "Hello, I am Kale and I do not assistance with Aelios at the moment and you should know that I am here because...."

Then another interruption, a knock on the door, and a message meant for the two sisters. Kale sighed, another distraction, and rather than continuing to talk. He chose to remain silent until things settled and the twins were free to talk with him again. Hopefully, without any more interruptions.

Interaction - Dyna Soleil, Ranni Soleil - @Queen Arya

“Please take care of yourself,”

Staring out a frosted window, Ivor’s voice replayed incessantly in Kira’s mind.

What exactly had he meant by that? She’d been taking care of herself for decades. It had practically been her life’s entire purpose.

A glance was all it took for most people to understand that she knew how to survive. She’d been worked down to the bone and reforged countless times to make sure of it.

Only under her complete control could anyone perceive her differently. Only when she was undercover—playing the ditz or the damsel—did she let people see something softer. Something easier to manipulate. Something that allowed her to coax secrets from the lips of men and women alike, without having to brutalize or kill them for it. The lucky few.

But Ivor didn’t seem to perceive her in the one dimensional way she’d intended.

Something shameful and angry twisted in her gut. The softness in his tone should have been meant for someone else.

She’d gotten rusty—lazy.

She blinked hard, trying to wash away the feeling of his voice. Snow fell steadily outside, and from her second-story vantage point, she silently watched as guards and civilians shifted through the snow-dusted streets of the town square. On instinct, she noted each face as they passed—some new, some familiar.

After a few minutes, her eyes caught on a woman.

Raven hair tied up into a neat bun. Middle-aged. Wearing noble Aurelian garb that swallowed up her thin frame. A stranger who bore a striking resemblance to a ghost of her past.

She blinked.

Somewhere, years ago, Kira had grappled with her in the dark, on cold stone flooring. Dripping down from a nearby bed, warm blood pooled over the stones where they both frantically scrambled for control.

But Kira had been stronger.

Covered in a dead man's blood, she managed to mount the woman's back and dominate her. Kira’s legs hooked around her torso, left arm tight around the woman’s throat as her right hand reached for the bloodied dagger that had clattered to the ground in their struggle.

Covered in her husband’s blood, the woman’s scream burned itself into the dark recesses of Kira’s mind. Once she got a hand on her blade, the woman attempted to plead for her life through struggling breaths, pinned beneath the pressure of Kira’s arm crushing her windpipe.

Kira barely heard her. Barely cared what she was trying to get out.

In a single motion, she released her grip around the woman’s throat and swiftly sliced clean through her jugular with razor sharp steel. Crimson sprayed along the mahogany bed frame, the woman's body going limp against Kira’s chest.

Shoving the body away, she pulled herself out from under it. Blood-slicked and breathing heavily, she rose to her feet—
—meeting the gazes of two horrified children standing paralyzed in the doorframe.

She blinked again.

In the reflection, the orange glow of her eyes met her gaze—familiar, yet utterly foreign.

A beast stared back. Though in truth, the reflection hadn’t changed much.
She had been a monster then too. She was something else now—more. But never less.

She’d taken care of herself then—and countless times following. It was all she knew how to do.

If Ivor had meant something else—

No. She wouldn’t entertain the thought.

Turning away from the window, her gaze dropped to a flickering candle in the center of the table. She prodded at one of her sharp canines with her tongue, hands clasped, absently massaging the warmth back into her fingers as she stared into the flame—trying to ignore the faint pulse of heartbeats beneath the floorboards.

Drawing in a slow breath, she rose from the table, the chair scraping against the wooden floor. She’d taken enough of a break here. Enough dwelling. Enough connection.

She had things to attend to in her own shop. The Sages would likely want her to make an appearance soon. And she wanted to—

Unbidden, an image flashed in her mind. A sickly fox. The creature inside the crate that the Lunarian guard had been peering into earlier—a vision she’d glimpsed through the eyes of the nameless guard she’d blood-bonded with that had unknowingly shared with her.

The guard's emotions bled into her—hesitation and worry—as he offered the lethargic animal water and dried meat, willing it to survive.

Kira closed her eyes sharply, blocking out the images and emotions that didn’t belong to her. Anger rippled through her in response.

Reopening her eyes, she stalked toward the door and ripped it open.

It was time to sever this tie.