_{Location: Aelios Temple Hot Springs}

---

As the giant stared at the tattered cloth wondering who it might have belonged to, the answer came to him more swiftly than he could have anticipated. Startled by a sudden and shrill screech, Ivor whipped his head around to find its source. At first he’d been expecting a woman from the pitch alone, what instead he found was a man…woman?

Ivor stared rather dumbfounded through the verbal tirade he was receiving. Clearly this was a man in front of him, were he not on full display Ivor might have thought otherwise from how delicate and fragile his physique was. Realizing he was still being yelled at, Ivor tried listening to the words directed towards him. Unfortunately they were speaking far too quickly and with too much spittle, Ivor couldn’t really understand until the very end.

"What have you to say for yourself APE?!"

Ivor blinked, ape…where had he heard that before. Thinking back, Miss Eris told him about apes once, having described them as massive, hairy creatures with incredible strength and an intimidating presence. She had said he was kind of like an ape himself, a compliment from a comparison. Given the tone this man was giving him though, Ivor did not think the same thing was happening right now. That being said, Ivor did not know this man, so it was possible this man did not know him either and thus made the first honest comparison he could make.

Ivor nodded, “Ah yes, Ape! Very good! I am very much like the ape aren’t I, friend?” The giant laughed deep from his belly, giving the man a toothy grin. “I am Ivor! What is your name?”

"Is there a problem ?" A third figure emerged from behind Ivor, this time he had no trouble discerning that this was indeed a man. This new man’s height was on par with Ivor’s though he wasn’t as built he was still cut enough to be intimidating.

The man nodded his way, and Ivor nodded back before shaking his head to answer the question, “No no, there is no trouble here. Ivor simply found this thing,” he held up the tattered cloth, turning his body away from the fragile man, “Ivor thought, what kind of creature this must be? Hopefully is tasty, will fill up many bellies, yes? So, Ivor take axe and kill the creature, except, is not creature, is nonsense clothes! And…” the giant suddenly paused as if realizing something important.

He turned back to the naked and delicate one, shaking and shivering in the cold; or perhaps in anger? Ivor then looked down at the cloth in his hands, then at the man, back at the cloth, then slowly back at the man, “Ivor has made a mistake…Ivor…apologize,” he bowed slightly to the offended one, then sprung back up, “Ivor must make this up to little man, yes!” Dropping the shreds unceremoniously Ivor quickly doffed his fur vest, kneeling down to hastily drape it around the man’s shoulders. “There! Much better now,” he clapped his shoulders, “is a little big on you, but it will keep you very warm, yes?! This fur comes from dire boar, Ivor tracked for many days and killed with bare hands.” The giant stood back up, “now it belongs to you and I think will be much better than silly feathered thing.”

Ivor turned around to face the other tall man, “See, there is no problem, none at all!”

---

_{Interacting with Ayel @Dezuel, Valthyr @Fetzen}

Sya head was…. She was needing a break, a migraine was risking probing at the corners of her mind and she decided to make a change of plans, a rather extensive change of plans. An old memory came to mind… her last attempt had been ruined so Sya decided to hope that her next attempt would be better and less chaotic. Sya looked towards her pocket and saw the medical items and made a decision… yes..

Sya had a hope and an idea, she turned to the stairs and decided to work on her plan, yes that would do. “Vi go, be back later, vun it, you're In charge. Hot Springs.” She said to Vala and turned to slither off to the staircase, two floors up was her private little corner of the world, her sanctuary against the hate and the people like Ayel, safe, comfortable and room to stretch her tail.

“Sure miss slinky boss.” Vala said with a laugh and resumed her place at the bar and took Syas spot running the bar and having a minor Glare with lime green Eyes. She did not quite have the same ability to blend with people that the innkeeper seemed to find came utterly naturally to.

The Lamia was already upstairs and pushed the door closed to her rooms, making way to her bedroom Apartment with a mirrored vanity, it was basic, cheap and a tiny little wavey mirror. It was Syas and balanced with lower on tail and took the eye drop bottle out and scale shine…that could wait but she used the eye drop and sighed falling on to her back as she laid back. Her eye was cooled and soothed, having one huge eye was not always fun! A few minutes later she pushed up with a wiggle and grabbed a dark red coat with a hood that she had been given by her … friend with benefits, sadly she was not here to carry on that arrangement.

“I'm out.” Sya said passing the bar and a the blue flash of tail snaked out as the door closed, her hood up to keep weather Off she made her way out into the streets and darkness, lit by burning fires of orange and reds that defied darkness but to Sya that soon turned into a blueish Greenish grey tone that lacked colour. The world beyond was a hazy grey on grey tones, layered over lit by moonlight.

her route was quite easy as crossed the square to a back street, drifting past the post office tower and the small shop that was a leather workers' space, tanned hides and the smell of strong chemicals as materials where tanned and prepared for use.

The test of the trip was uneventful as waved to a few, made Small talk with a customer and one of the people she hired a few times a week to work on the Inns studding for the door. It really needed reinforcements. It would take a few days to have the studs, nails and strips made so that she had been rather clear about the quality of being a blacksmith daughter Sya knew exactly and precisely what she required and the standard of work expected. She also paid properly though and was not cheaper on a lesser commission.

…

It was 10 minutes later Sya had hidden herself in a corner of the large hot baths, the raised voice the woman had heard and picked up… oh no. Sya managed to slither and swim her way to a quiet corner and spot out of the way, her tail in and out the water like a sea monster on a map. Sya was doing her best to hide, she had … Sya did not want to meet Ayel, he was a cruel bad egg that had a rotten Yolk, the shell was all fake.

Sya eye turned to the temple, it's warm glow and she turned away, Auralian or not, Sya had a bad experience with religion and it was not in her to enter that place right now. Nope. The Lamia did not want to go into that place, the hurt and the trauma… Sya curled up laid back on a smooth area of rock hiding from the noise with some tea in a wooden flask of sorts. Getting drunk was not the plan today.

Sya just tried to ignore everything going on and hid quietly soaking in the warmth with a sigh as the woman turned Lamia closed her eyes with head resting on a towel she found.

Her tail tip bobbed gently in the soft waves from the pool and it felt nice, the water was soothing and not too harsh where she could potentially be hurt easily.

…

Lord and Lady Coswain

Hot Spring

Lady under the moon

Persephone was In a mood, right now she was conflicted about things and pushed her heavy horse faster down the empty side street unsure exactly but she wanted . Needed to do something. The talk with her husband was going to be rough and the fact was it looked like the diplomatic bullshit was still prevalent here as it was before just in a new flavour. “Go, go” she said to her mount as she traveled down the route, it was still in town but away from the main square.

She had too much on her mind and too much going on to think clearly.

Hot steam rose distant light was…distorted, things where… The Temple was built like the ones of Auralia and it seemed it bordered a large hot spring or some space throwing out a lot of heat into the air.

The Temple doors she went past and headed more directly way, to the area of the non Temple public bath if she read the signs right. Such places she didn't feel right and left it alone. The hot spring was a place that was not so connected to religion and the church. Tieing her horse up she gave it a pat and made sure water and straw was available. “Calm, Calm yoself.” stocking the powerful muscular neck and kissing it, her horse was very much her choice and it was not Persephone's choice, these Beasts were willful and only chose who to obey. Even then the relationship was one you had to earn constantly.

“Calm, il be back… “ She said and walked away leaving her sword on the horses side and strapped securely to the mounts saddle.

Persephone entered, the warmth hit hard as she entered the space, the warm waters were hot beyond anything artificial means could create. So warm Persephone shed her heavy cloak and draped It over her arm looking at the area, it was a expanse of hot water and stone, stairs and so hidden by the haze of heat conflicting with the cool air and snow outside here was hot as a summer in the darkest of winters.

Her training had included enemy cultures or at least that was how it was presented, hostile cultures, the enemy, the foe, the rival and the force against them. Even simple things like the small culture differences could decide a case of failure or success. Bathing was a huge Thing for tshm, she knew thr custom…the nudity she was less OK with, that was… not something Lunaris did. In part you'd freeze to death…

She found an area for clothes, this was more secluded, private and away from the Entry, the simple storage and neatly folded clothes of another and a … rather fancy short Sword rested there, or war knife. Someone was well prepared she thought as she undressed and placed her own weapons away. Much as she disliked the Auralian aspects at times she did not go about their Baths armed for a fight.

Dressed wrapped in a towell the taller woman, her red hair tinged with grey and scars and Old marks visible, life in her home land was rough and her career did not make it easier, she had picked up a few wounds and bumps over her life, she was no ashamed just unused to being so exposed. Bare feet oddly did not feel the chill as heat radiated into the very stone about them, the very air, water and rock was heated by whatever forces pushed hot water up.

Up ahead she saw..people… multiple people. The big man…the blightborn who dragged her in, some figure in a stupid sized clothes, feathers and … oh…? It was a odd group. This unknown man was massively tall too, a little shabby but powerfully built…

She approached with caution as they were in her wardrobe, a spot she liked the look of. A place to seek calm, think… maybe work out what she planned to say about today to her Husband. Yes, that spot seemed ideal.

Dawn Haven offered a few Escapes… Draw, Drink, pray, bathe or train really was the list available. Bathe it would be it. “Are the baths always this dramatic?” She asked as she approached, she heard the prior days they got closed, someone Fell in, arguments? Like…Yeah.. dramatic.

“Did someone kill A…flock of birds?” She questioned as her foot prodded a feather, multiple of more than one kind. Ayel she did not recognize at first under such a huge and odd outfit for the peacock lord of the sun, the one who had rubbed almost everyone up the wrong way it seemed. “oh, I missed you, you trying out a new fashion Lord Run and fell? ” She said with a small barb, she knew he fled last night during the attack going on…for the best, he probably just got someone killed.

“Gentlemen, Lady Persephone Coswain, one of you I owe thanks for my aid, even if Sya was most perturbed by your entry.” She introduced herself formally and turned to Ayel who treated her badly for just existing. “My my, a spot, you must see the Apchachery, It might be scar if it breaks out.” She said an armed tone, her mirth and mischief controlled behind eyes that held a poker face though she could not fully hide she was enjoying it.

“Oh Ayel if you keep glaring at me you get eye lines…” She said imitating some of the ladies of court, clear mirth and calculated action as she decided to make him be the one to have the headache.

Mentions

@Beard Dad
@Fetzen@Dezuel

---

---

_{Location: The Jail}

---

---

Flynn stood motionless as Halcyon began his slow, deliberate theatrics—each finger raised with a reason, a warning, and a threat. He watched in silence, gaze level, jaw tight. Not once looking away.

One finger. The wolf.
Flynn said nothing, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

Two fingers. The Aurelian king.
Flynn exhaled through his nose quietly. Rumors circled kings like vultures. His father was no exception. Flynn knew the lengths Auric would go to silence a whisper that spread too far, though they rarely carried enough weight to demand action. There was some truth buried in Halcyon’s words, but it did little to move him to mercy.

Three fingers. A threat, and an offer.
This time, Flynn nearly scoffed. The idea of this man near Amaya—as a guide, no less—was absurd. He might’ve laughed, if not for what Halcyon had laid out moments before: that another lurked in Dawnhaven and carried the same mission, ready to act in his place. The thought twisted tight in Flynn’s chest. One more shadow to chase. Another threat to find. He filed it away.

Then, suddenly, Halcyon seemed to shift. His eyes glazed over, staring off at something unseen along stone walls. His tone shed its performance, slipping into something more solemn and philosophical.

As Halcyon rose to his feet and flung a cracker against the stone wall, Flynn stiffened, but stayed still. He watched the crumbs scatter across the cell floor, then looked back up at the man behind the bars, eyes narrowing as Halcyon pointed at him.

Despite the outburst, Flynn felt it was the most honest and direct Halcyon had been yet.

“I would not sacrifice the blight-born.” Flynn said when the opportunity opened, voice calm and measured, but cold.

The thought of condemning every blight-born was abhorrent. He had his reasons. Dozens of them—Orion being among them—but Halcyon wasn't owed an explanation.

“I’m not chasing the past, nor am I content with the present.” His voice lowered, solid and unwavering. “The blight-born lived before the sun—Aelios—disappeared. Hidden. Active only at night, yes, but they lived. We can find another way for them to live when she returns.”

He paused, eyes locked on Halcyon’s, searching for the flicker of truth beneath all the posturing.

“If you think we can survive in this rot forever, you’re delusional. Aelios must return—or none of us survive.”

As Halcyon continued on, Flynn’s brow furrowed. Then came the words—delivered like poison on a silver tongue:

“Replace her as a god.”

Sacrilege cloaked in philosophy. Madness disguised as vision.

Flynn stilled, his blood running cold at the mere notion.

It was impossible, and yet Flynn knew the Arch Priest would not take kindly to it all the same. He imagined the clergy would’ve liked to make an example out of a man like Halcyon. Turning him over to Auric might be a mercy by comparison.

As Halcyon launched into his strange hymn, Flynn looked down at the iron key in his hand, thumb brushing its edge, and for a second he didn’t see metal. He saw a door. One that opened not to hope, but something vast and uncertain. A future soaked in blood and built on ash. A path he had no desire to walk.

When Halcyon turned away and spoke of Amaya, Flynn’s heart sank at the reminder of her absence. He glanced down the hall where she had vanished with the Lunarian guard, unease prickling at the back of his neck.

He looked back at Halcyon one last time. Eyes lingering. Considering.

Aelios and the clergy had condemned him. Auric and Viviana had stood by and let it happen. Were they truly his enemies too?

He didn’t know. Not yet.

Clenching his jaw, Flynn slipped the key back into his pocket.

“I’m not here to become a god. Or a monster. The path you’re walking—whatever end you’re chasing—it’s not one I believe in. I have no intention of walking beside a man who sees divinity in destruction.”

Flynn turned from the cell and began walking down the corridor, following Amaya’s footsteps and the danger she might already have walked into—and didn’t look back.

“Enjoy the cell.”

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

The nobleman's jaw dropped as he heard Ivor confess that he was indeed an ape. The noble.an's gaze momentarily went to the dark sky, as if asking Aelios... why?

'This barbaric creature is so dumb, that he would mistake his own fleas as tiny little advisors. And his own flatuence as thunder. To call him human, or even remotely sub-human would be to insult the fleas using his lumbering mishapen form as a colony.' Ayel thought to himself as the clothing destroying ape from the north had saw it fit to introduce himself before Ayel himself had.

In normal cases back in Aurelia, he would have launched an entire campaign on ruining the life of anyone trying to outshine him. What was taking his damnable servant so long?! He needed clearly to be announced whenever entering a place so people of less importance would realize they were in the company of nobility. Soon to be divine nobility.

The nobleman instinctively reached for his neck to stroke his brochė that usually was neatly attached to his shirt. But he then came to the realization he was in a state of undress and unrest.

Ivor? Was that this ape's name? The nobleman mentally tried saying it. It felt dirty and he shook, trying to immediately forget the hulking figure's name.

And just when he was to verbally slaughter the unwitting barbarian, another awful voice was heard. Oh no.

'It's like when those overgrown male deers yell for their females. It bothers every other thing nearby.' He thought

"Problem?! You are the problem!" Ayel pointed his finger accusingly at Valthyr. Why was this other overgrown oaf not in jail? Had they already used up what space they had with some minor criminal? These two were clearly a top priority for the future of Dawnhaven.

A barbarian free Aurelian colony which would be governed by the two best friends that the kingdom of Aelios had ever seen, until the day when Flynn would be crowned king and conquer the barbarian lands and then because of gratitude, Ayel himself would be given the title of governor of Dawnhaven and the new Aurelian northern areas. Well...up until Aelios would elevate him as her consort that is.
But the ever realistic and perceptive nobleman was blinking as Ivor explained that he had mistaken his expensive limited edition attire for some kind of creature.

Was he blind?! Ayel frowned, he had seldom been so gravely insulted. That his carefully picked outfit would be mistaken by some good for nothing ape as a female of it's kind, or some such... it was unfathomable.

'He's Lord Stormlight's sister with a beard! This is Jericho with fleas! Not even the prophecy saw this idiotic thing coming!'

Then he did mention that he was to appologize.

'Little man?! Even maggots that feast on carrion would deem this barbarian's flesh unfit for consumption. But perhaps I can have some use for this miserable mishapen mammoth. Yes perhaps-' He was caught mid-thought as Ivor knelt before him.

'The ape knows his place...' He felt an intense surge of satisfaction. Of his Aurelian superiority.

Then it happened. The hulking beast had wrapped a filthy fur thing around him.

He recoiled. Not of the smell, nor what it were. But surprise. How had Aelios allowed this singleminded thickheaded hairbrush gotten the better of him? Unforgivable!

"Ahhhhhhh! What in Aelios holy fire are you doing?!" The nobleman screamed out loud his hands in a panic taking hold of the heavy furs, he felt disgusted. How many insects had made it their home? How many years had it been covered in barbarian sweat, snot and remnants of meals had long ago. Not only that it was made of pig. Wild pig! And pigs rolled in the dirt. Which made them definitely dirty.

Never had he been in contact with something as foul, except when Nathaniel's older sister had stood close enough to him that he had accidently breathed in air she had exhaled from her wicked mouth.

The nobleman used all his physical strength to toss the fur towards Valthyr, before the nobleman threw himself into the formerly-private hotspring. He had to clean himself. He had to rid himself of any taint having tried to lay claim upon his holy vessel of a body.

He panickedly began to clean himself all over. He had even momentarily put aside the fact that the old crone had now also shown up uninvited. Her mocking words landed on him as he was too busy ridding himself of the fur.

How dared they!

Ayel's noble eyes landed on Persephone now, momentarily putting aside his punishment to Ivor for his defilement. It was hard to look, the nobleman furrowed his noble brows. Naked?! Naked and -old-!

He shut his eyes hard. No no. He had to wipe that mental image from his mind. Qll the wrinkles. Imperfections. He felt lightheaded and then felt a surge of newfound resolve, he could not falter in Aelios very temple. He ooened his eyes and looked at Persephone again, trying to keep his eyes at her face. He felt abit of unwanted heat on his face. All that anger and the hot water had made his skin compromised. That was certainly it.

"Your face is a scar on the land! This is a crone-free area! No witches are allowed!" Ayel motioned around him to form a circle.

She had introduced herself. And he had yet to have his name ring out. Two introductions before he did. Persephone?

"Purse-phony Coarse-Swine." Ayel said kn a spiteful manner. "How fitting for a -disgusting- and -old- hagbag! I am Marquess Ayel Raunefeldt, and I will not be spoken to by some pretender noble from ape-mountain!" The marquess pointed q finger accusingly at her and then he looked at Valthyr. "Don't you have a goat to court?! Shoo! Go after that blonde goatgirl perhaps the prince can try you both for treason against decency!" Ayel yelled and shook his fist angrily, his teeth gritting then finally landing on Ivor. "For your crimes against nobility, you shall serve me until your lifedebt is complete, for your first assignment..." Ayel held his tightened fist before his mouth, pretending to cough in case someone wasn't paying attention.

However this creature he was dealing with was likely as dumb as dumb could get. He had to try his best to make him understand.

"You. Igor! You find priestess. Bring me her towel! Understood?! The little blonde one! Well?! Move it! I don't have all day, my time is precious! And stop staring and get away from my sight the rest of you unsightly creatures!" He snarled as he pulled his hair back, climbing up high enough so he could peek over the bath area down to the bigger more public one. Were that damn beast tamer there or more of them? Then he saw it. His eagle-eyed noble eyes saw the unmistakable snake creature. He knew it! That monster was behind it! Slithering conniving serpent! The man yelled down at her. "Aha! I knew you had a hand in this! You will pay dearly for this!"

---

---

_{Location: Eye of the Beholder}

---

---

Kira descended the stairs in frustrated silence, steps light despite her mood. She could feel him drawing closer, even though she hadn’t called for him. The tether between them pulsed faintly at the edge of her mind, a thread pulling taut with their rapidly closing proximity.

Slipping into the crowd on the first floor and skimming past bodies, she was hit with immediate regret for leaving the peaceful solidarity upstairs. The tavern was warm, noisy—too many voices and heartbeats pressed together—but Kira moved like smoke, careful to avoid body and eye contact entirely. Hopefully, if she was lucky, Sya wouldn’t appear out of thin air to distract or disrupt, as she so often did.

Kira was halfway to the door when it opened and he stepped inside.

The brown-eyed, black haired guard who’d plagued her since the night before.

A taller blond Lunarian guard walked in beside him, speaking quietly, eyes scanning the room. But the one bound to her—the one without a name—his eyes found hers instantly.

They locked gazes. For a breath too long, the room slowed.

She could feel the skip of his heartbeat inside her own chest, the flutter of nerves he didn’t understand. Drawn to her, compelled to follow the pull of their bond. A thread, subtle but constant, tugging at his spirit—slowly suffocating whatever free will he thought he had left. He likely didn’t even know why he’d come.

Only that he needed to.

He faltered when the other guard leaned in and murmured something, clearly having noticed the charged stillness between them. The taller one grinned like a fool. The nameless one—hers—gave a soft laugh and led the way to a booth along the wall.

From across the room, Kira followed.

Every step calculated, she arranged her expression into something warm, sweet and inviting. When she neared the table, she tilted her head slightly and offered a closed-lip smile, eyes bright with feigned girlish affection.

“Boys,” she murmured, voice barely audible over the clatter of the tavern.

The bonded guard smiled up at her with his deep, puppy dog-like eyes. The other smiled too, clearly amused but silent.

Her gaze slid to the blond. “Might I have a moment?” she asked, voice silk-smooth—so polite it almost startled her that she still remembered how to sound like that.

He raised a brow, glanced at his companion, then smiled and stood. “Sure,” he said, stepping out of the booth. “I’ll be at the bar.”

She nodded her thanks, watching him disappear into the crowd before she slid into the booth across from the man who, to her deepest regret, now belonged to her.

As they met each others gaze, her smile dropped, the light in her eyes vanishing.

Silently, she cursed herself for this bond born out of her own carelessness—her hunger, her frustration… Elara.

“Leave,” she said, quiet and cold. Unblinking, her eyes held his.

His expression flickered—confusion, hesitation. He opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but the words never came. She squeezed the unseen thread between them, wound it tight around his throat and commanded the words to die before they could form.

His brow furrowed. She dug her nails into the bond and yanked it like a leash.

“Go to my place,” she said, voice low. “Wait there.”

Slowly, he stood and left the booth without a word, weaving his way toward the door with an eerie, unconscious calm.

Kira didn’t watch him go. Instead, she stared into the small candle at the center of the table. Her mind racing through the consequences of her actions.

Feeling eyes on her, she lifted her gaze. The other guard was watching her.

He looked between her and the retreating figure of his friend, curiosity barely masked behind his easy smile. Suspicion simmered behind his eyes.

She offered a slightly suggestive smirk in return, then turned her attention back to the flame.

There was a witness. One who would remember that the man had left with her. Not to mention everyone else in this tavern. With her senses so overwhelmed, it was difficult to tell who might've been observing.

Her jaw tightened. If she wanted to remain in Dawnhaven, she’d have to be careful—much more careful than her original impulsive plan had been.

She could keep the guard at her house for a few days. Keep him close, keep him quiet, force him to follow routine until suspicion wore off and his companion's curiosity dulled.

But would it ever?

She was blight-born. Suspicion followed them everywhere—rightfully so.

But she needed to be rid of this man and all his thoughts and emotions. One way or another.

Weighing every option, every angle, Kira brooded in silence.

Then, with a faint sigh, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the small bottle of alcohol Sya had given her. She set it gently on the table, spinning it slowly between her fingers.

Now seemed like as good a time as any…

_{Location: The hot springs}

---

Valthyr managed to catch the large cloak so haphazardly that the piece of fur almost ended up slamming into his face. Well it... smelled a little bit maybe, but not only was that a pretty far cry away from the noble's claims about how filthy it would be, but also any potential degree of disgust it could have ever hoped to invoke just had no space left in the druid's mind at the moment.

He was profoundly pissed off. What did this ignorant opposite of a bootlicker -- the latter was eager to make people like him, not hate him as much as humanly possible -- even think ? That anybody here would dare to try and fulfill the role he thought they all had to bear ? That they'd kneel in front of him, not kiss his feet because of their dirty lips, and apologise all day for their mere existence ?

Valthyr stepped over slowly towards the mountainous man named Ivor and spoke in a raher low tone. "Apologies in advance. I originally came here because I wanted to talk to you about a small tree job for a new chair for Sya, but... He let go of a sigh that made his breast heave. "I stumbled upon this Ayel guy yesterday already and it wasn't pleasant. Now I am going to teach him how to have a miserable day." The druid handed over the cloak, then started to stare down Ayel the best he could while also approaching. It was only the very edge of the pool that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Alright, self-proclaimed pinnacle of the world. Do you think that Aelios her very self created you or how to interpret your overflowing arrogance ? Well if so, than I'll happily throw whatever kind of silly prophecy there is around in the wind as Aelios just being ashamed of her wayward spawn is just so much better of an explanation for anybody disappearing!"

Valthyr bent down to undo his organic shoes. The dense network of leaves and thin, flexible branches released its grip around his skin after a short, soft touch and he could wiggle his feet out of the few stubborn remainders easily. He had to resist the temptation to just launch them at Ayel's pampered face however.

"More reasonable than that theory however is that you are just a very exquisite Aurelian dipshit, but please don't take my mention of the kingdom's name as an offensive. You'd be just as much of a disgrace to Lunaris or an empire of maggots living on the moon."

Valthyr now removed the thin cord that served as a belt to hold his trousers in place.

"I think I've already put up the thought yesterday, but are you sure that all that cream and perfume you obviously apply doesn't contain some poisonous ingredients ? Like something that does more subtle long-term damage ? Again that's just a more plausible explanation that imagining not one, but two parents who are at the absolute limit of incompentency."

Now all that was left was the thin shirt to almost rip off and dump onto the humble pile on the ground.

"Feast upon my peasant's skin in all its magnificence, my lord! Or are you gonna yell for the servant not only bringing a towel, but also a knife so you can finally put an end to your eyesight and not have to endure our sight anymore ? Think about the blessing just the slightest bit of your very purest, most noble blood would be in this pool for everybody less fortunate, more humble underling coming in! This would be your temple!"

Valthyr cast a brief glance back at the others. He didn't even know all of their names yet let alone anything about their personalities, but given the barrage of insults that had been delivered at them he felt quite confident in his assumption that they would not stop him when he would try to get this proverbial elephant out of the room.

"I'm sure there's a towel in your residence, Ayel. If you like, you can also run to your bestest friend and I will happily report what you have done here. In any case you will lift your fancy ass out of the water and disappear from this place."

The last few words already had a slightly different sound to them. Valthyr's lungs and overall breathing apparatus were already in the process of realignment as he now concentrated on turning into the wolf. The last thing he could say was a half gurgled "You have half a minute to comply!"

It would be fun to watch the arrogant sloth run through town crying for servants that would never come. Not that he had any plans on leaving the hot springs as there were guards outside who could mistake the situation, but Valthyr counted on the fear of and the sheer amount of wet dog smell his alter ego would take on once he'd join Ayel in the water. Because... what was even a lot worse than dirty peasant skin ? Dirty peasant fur! Hadn't Ayel just demonstrated this by declining that cloak so thoroughly ? He'd hug the noble like a hugely oversized, happy pet wolf if needed. Maybe even lick him in a place that wasn't overburdened with wicked cream and shit ?

Persephone looked at Ayel like he was a worm, really, he was screaming, shouting, ranting like a Toddler…did she have to put him on the naughty step or give him an ice lolly to suck on to calm down?

Like what did she do about this angry little ego driven man…who was naked.. Why did he have to be naked? It was not a fun sight and she had seen a lot of not fun things. His ranting insults, really…none of it was new, none of it was creative he really needed some better lines. Persephone Had been called far far worse than a old Crone.

“Then start behaving like a Lord and not a toddler, do you need a blanky… or a pop Of shine for your sore gums?” She said with a flat tone, not letting it get to her, he was a dick but unarmed, naked and entirely just mentally losing it. She probably would report this to Princes guards when this was over. Maybe someone could.. talk to him?

“try It .. I can throw a better punch than you, jail would be lovely this time of year…” She said with a smirk, she was a Lady and Royal Guard, she could probably lock him up for a few days on an assault noble or Not.

“Look…your going to be breaking the peace at this rate, I just want a soak and a rest… go home.. i will give you a chance to act like a Lord and leave without drama, the Prince will be told… you can make this far easier for everyone. Be the better man here.” Persephone said and just shook her head, before He…. nope, that boat sailed as a rather large man got more annoyed and now willing to physically answer his insults.

Well, that was that.. she had tried to be reasonable to the man, thing… lord of whatever sun house had made this inbred mess of an ego who was far too naked for her liking.

Across the water the Lamia who was content to rest, drink tea and float her tail in the water and splash about a little was caught off guard by shouting of her name by a irate and …. Why did she have to have really good eye sight? What actress it was to see his pastey, self… Gendry had a nice amount of muscle, hard work had made him solid and could carry her among other “things” she found a muscular partner could do.

Sya mentally debated what to do as she drank from her flask of tea, the hot liquid was nice and she could get used to this…maybe Sya had brewed or wrong but it worked, where you meant to add spices? It added a nice kick to the drink though and gave an aftertaste that was honestly pleasant.

“Urgh… vhy would he not leavess me alone” Sya said as she turned and made a decision, maybe kill him with kindness… or ask the guards to press charges of harassment, Sya was a member of Dawn Haven and had the protections the same as any other.

It only took a gentle push off as Sya swam with a S gesture easily in the water and crossed the pool smoothly before sliding up the bank, a smooth area as she began to slither and move with a little shudder and a jump from swimming to land. Sya was rather comfortable in the water and rather elegant and agile in the hot Springs. The water supported her form rather comfortablely.

Multiple people, Sya saw multiple people, feathers, Ayel, Ivor, others, the lady who was in the room with Lord Castleion… one guest, multiple customers…well everyone ended up a customer eventually. What the hell happened, did someone murder a flock of birds?

She came to a halt silently, her movement was really quiet especially on the smooth stone and slightly wet surface, bright blue scales turned to skin and she had nothing to really wear, and honestly did not care. They Would stare regardless of what she wore or did not. Sya was not ashamed and favoured Auralian feeling on the matter.

Shiny wet scales flashed In moonlight as Sya waved a greeting, then prodded the round and stirred the odd mix of fallen feathers on the ground confused. She noted Persephone gave her a unsure glance and scanned her form but for a Lunarian to be suspicious of a blightborn was hardly new.

“Oh Lord Ayel, Blesses vour sunny Yolk, I had no idea vou where here bevore you shouted ssssso” Sya said letting the hiss linger as she looked confused about the group sensing the tension and not wanting a brawl in the baths…Sya Was a little creative. maybe Defuse this whole mess through shock and confusion.

“Vould you like me to ssshare Some tea with vou, vou look trdoubled. Vi made my own mix, soicey tea. ” Sya said with a easily tone, she knew it would probbly cause him to have a seziure but that was on him being so tightly wound he could be used as a siege catapult. Looking about the group, the man was quite solidly built and she saw him semi undressed, the Lady wore a towell, she was Lunarian so expected, Ivor.. damn did he have muscles.. Sya still wondered if Becky was crazy though?

Sya played to her reputation as the somewhat forward, friendly and little bit odd Keeper of the Inn, none of this would be too far off her and she also calculated either he would have a whole fit or be too dumb founded to really process and his brain would take a few hours to feel angry again…hopefully the second. Enough time to send a note to the guards to ask Ayel to be talked to about harassment of a business owner and citizen of the town.

Sya was not stupid… She played the game well.

“Oh sssun Yolk… I'm Ssstarting to zink, either vou fancy Me, or have anger issues. . I'm really not horny forvyou, vou need to back off, or vi have to ask guards about you. VI'm zure you can get over it, maybe vor Best you find new lady, or man Yes ..” Sya said and her accent soft but very clearly borderland, she could speak some Auralian but chose to use the general tongue. No one could say she insulted him, just turned down his misguided affections. Did he hate her or secretly want to have hate sex.. Even Sya was turned off by Ayel.

The kiss of cheek she declined, he was probably toxic in skim creams not get taste off all week and slithered silently over hugging him before she backed off giving his thigh a poke with her tail tip and feeling like she needed a bath with what he probably doused himself in withdrew.

“Oh.. sun Yolk, youl ave to vind another love.” She said and decided that sometimes you had to fight fire by causing it to lose Fuel and mentally confuse the noble idiot.

Sya fell back, if he exploded she wanted the bog man between her and the lord slithering backwards with barely a scrape Of scales on stone.

Persephone was clearly sering Ayel get played to socially try and make it seem like bothering her was some kind of stalkers obsession, that he really fancied her and angry she turned him down.. with witness... She gave the Blight born lady a nod, long tail and scales Persephone relised just how much control the woman had, silent, backwards... social manipulations.. if only she found a woman like this earlier to train.

Sya did not miss the momment but looked over to the rest, the tension, angry men and her bath was being interrupted. "Viu thinki can return to vy relaxation, the water is soothing on my Sssscales..."

...

Mentions

@Beard Dad
@Fetzen@Dezuel

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_{Location: Eye of the Beholder}

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Kira’s body recognized the object before her mind had the chance to catch up.

A jolt of lighting shot straight through her body, then turned to ice inside her veins.

Her eyes locked onto the gold coin, glinting faintly in the firelight. She didn’t need to look up to know exactly who had placed it there. The woman’s voice was sharp, steady, and all too familiar.

Frozen, Kira stared at the coin.

Its edges were worn, marked with shallow divots on either side—evidence of the countless times it had been flipped between calloused fingers. A small crack split the top, thin and unmistakable

Not just any coin—hers.

It hit her like a fist to the chest, dragging the past to the surface.

“Heads… or tails.”

Kira, only fifteen, trembled on all fours.

She spat blood. Watched it stain snow.

Her breathing came ragged and slow as she stared at the crimson splatters—some brand new, some hours old. Her hands had gone numb, buried beneath snow.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a few deep breaths, trying to focus—to feel for a single thread of magic. Psychic magic, traced like fishing line through each and every mind.

She tried to picture the coin. Tried to picture the older man who stood before her—grizzled, angry, standing inches away with the coin in his hand, ready to deliver another steel-toed kick to the ribs.

But her thoughts were scattered and frantic. Tears began to burn behind her eyes.

She could sense nothing. No thread. No clarity. No thoughts. No image.

The only tangible thing was the pain that lanced through her sides with every breath. The sting of the cold as it crept up her forearm. The warmth of the blood pooling inside her mouth.

Snow crunched.

She’d taken too long—again.

He was kneeling in front of her now.

A hand tangled in her hair and yanked her upright. Her green eyes snapped open, staring back at dark, pitiless brown.

“Say it.” He commanded, a threat laced between the words.

She had tried. She really had.

Her gaze flicked to the hand holding the coin—his palm half-closed around it. She swallowed. His grip on her hair tightened, forcing her attention back to his face.

“I..I–I–I…” The words choked in her throat. “I–I don’t—”

He let go and threw her head down again, disgusted. “Say it!”

Snow grazed her cheeks before she managed to catch herself, shoulders shaking.

“Find the thread of magic first.” he growled, circling her like a predator. “Follow it. Feel it. Let it guide you in. I’ve already seen the Goddess damn coin. Now find the opening—and take what you need.”

She clenched her teeth, blinking hard as she stifled a sob from escaping.

When he stopped pacing, she lifted her eyes to him. Panic rose. She had seconds to get it right before—

“Heads!” she blurted.

Explosive, white-hot pain seared through her as a boot slammed into her ribs.

She collapsed sideways into the snow. Her vision spun. The clouds overhead blurred.

And then—black.

A dish clattered nearby, and Kira blinked, dragging herself out of the memory.

Her eyes were still fixed on the coin. Her jaw tense. One hand tightly gripped the bottle Sya had given her, the other curled into a fist in her lap beneath the table.

She drew a slow, unsteady breath.

Anger flickered briefly. She couldn’t remember the last time anything had caught her off guard in such a way—let alone shaken her. Her heart still wouldn’t slow, thudding hard against her chest like it didn’t belong to her.

Candlelight flickered at the edges of her vision as she stared down at the artifact that shouldn’t be here.

And for the first time in a long time, Kira wasn’t sure if she wanted to run, lash out, or speak.

Then, finally, she looked up.

“And you’re supposed to be in the capital, Cricket.”

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_{Interactions: Kat @SpicyMeatball}

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_{Location: Western Residential District}

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By the time Nyla reached the western edge of town, the tips of her fingers and toes were numb. The walk hadn’t been short—past the bustle of the tavern, through the town square, and following along the quieter roads that curved beneath the northern residential district where the royals and nobility had already staked their claims.

Below that, new homes were being built. Some were still skeletons of wood and stone, haphazard frames buried beneath snowdrifts. Others stood finished, silent and waiting. Construction workers lingered despite the dark and the cold, hammering and sawing, bundled in layers and shouting to one another.

She passed them unnoticed, slipping through the torch-lit streets until she found one that felt… right. A smaller place—nothing grand—but solid. Finished. Empty.

She pushed the door open. No lock. No resistance. The interior greeted her with a faint scent of sawdust. Apparently, Flynn hadn’t been lying. She could claim whatever home she wished.

Still cradling the basket of cookies in one hand, she stepped through the threshold. Her fingertips trailed over bare walls and countertops as she casually wandered from room to room, eventually stopping in the living room. A cold hearth stared back at her from the far wall—untouched and unused.

She sank to the floor beside it, folding her legs beneath her and setting the basket in her lap, eyes roving over the space.

It wasn’t much. But it could be.

She could picture a fire here—flickering, golden, casting dancing shadows against the walls. Food laid out on a worn table. Drinks poured for friends. Music and laughter. A home filled with something warm to distract from the everlasting frigid night.

She could call this home, she supposed.
At least, for now.

Wandering was in her nature. Her kind never stayed for long.

But.. she could feel the weight of her illusion. The slow drag of it. The cost of appearing alive. It was wearing thin.

Soon, she’d have to retreat to her room again. Drop the act. Let her magic settle before it tore too much from her. And Dawnhaven was the only place she’d be allowed to live without being hunted, it seemed.

She leaned back, bracing herself against a wall, and let her gaze drift toward one of the frosted windows. Outside, snowflakes spiraled down in soft flurries, illuminated by the flickering torches lining the street.

Nyla exhaled slowly.

She’d made homes out of worse before. Hollow inns. Damp cave walls. Crumbling stage wagons. Dark forests. Shaded areas among desert dunes. Back corners of temples.

This would do.

She let her head tip back against the wall and closed her eyes—just for a minute.

Just until the ache in her chest stopped whispering that she wasn’t meant to be here.

Nesna nodded vigorously in response to Nathaniel and affirmed. No sooner had she done so than Zeph blurted out his greeting.

It was friendly, and yet mortifying. Her smile tightened, her eyes dimmed, and the grey skin of her cheeks and nose darkened in a blush.

“There’s no need to trouble him!” she exclaimed.

She gestured quickly to Nathaniel and then to Zeph, then the reverse.

“Oh, Nathaniel, I should tell you—this is Guard Hale. He prefers to go by Zeph with acquaintances,” she clarified, “And Zeph, Lord Stormlight has kindly escorted me to the Alchemy Chambers.”

Zeph’s gaze shifted to the man beside Nesna, sizing him up with a glance—silent judgments made in quick succession.

“Pleasure.” he said, tone polite but bordering on sarcasm. Spending time with an Aurelian noble ranked low on his list of desires for the day—mentoring an Aurelian was already torture enough.

Having sped through an introduction, Nensa looked back to Eris and fell into a deep curtsy.

Silent and wide-eyed, the Sage stood frozen just behind Zeph’s much larger frame. Her breath caught as her gaze traced the curve of folded wings protruding from the blight-born’s back, then rose to meet not one pair of horrifying pupil-less eyes, but two. Four in total, blinking back at her.

“And my most sincere apologies to you, Lady Hightower, for infringing upon your rights as a host. I am called Nesna.”

While Nesna made her polite gesture, introducing herself to Eris, Nathaniel's attention flicked to Zeph. ”Please.” he said with a small smile while putting his hands up. ”I'm happy just being called Nathaniel.”

Nathaniel's thoughts went back to what Nesna said about Zeph, a guard, but where is the uniform? Perhaps it's his day off. “I am Sage. I was summoned just over a month ago to help, I just arrived a couple of days ago.” giving Zeph a small nod of his head as a way of greeting.

As Zeph nodded in understanding—boredom flickering plainly in his eyes—Eris turned her attention to Charlotte, quietly gauging her new companion's reaction to the blight-born standing before them. Zephyros clearly didn’t see the woman as a threat, which struck Eris as odd, given the circumstances. And yet…

Her gaze shifted to Nathaniel. He had brought the winged woman here. Nesna couldn’t have been the intruder if she was a friend of his… right?

Despite her unsettling appearance, there was something refined in the way she spoke—a precise, deliberate cadence that hinted at a noble upbringing. Her accent differed from Eris’s own, yet it was familiar all the same. As if, in her first life, Nesna too might’ve belonged to a house of high pedigree.

Returning her attention to Nensa, Eris did her best to smooth her expression back into its usual warmth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nesna. I assure you, you haven’t infringed on anything.” Somehow, she managed to steady her voice and even offer a small, hesitant smile. Nesna offered a simple nod and smile in return.

In the back of her mind, formality urged her to curtsy in return—extend a hand in greeting, invite Nesna in, offer her and Nathaniel something to eat or drink. But her arms remained rigid at her sides, her body still frozen in place.

“This is Guard Hawthorne.” She gestured toward Charlotte, then looked between Nesna and Nathaniel again. “What brings you both here?”

Charlotte simply nodded as Eris introduced her, unbothered by the company before them but still clearly alert. Among the now grouping nobility, the recruit kept silent. In private, she’d opened up to Eris, but her veil of professionalism had draped across her features the minute they’d stepped outside. Her shield was planted firmly in the snow at her side, still strapped to her arm, while her free hand rested idly on the pommel of her sword.

Nathaniel furrowed his brows at Eris’s question. A strange question. He was about to respond immediately about it but Charlotte's movement caused him to pause for a heartbeat. Something is up, he wondered. His gaze went back to Eris' own, clearing his throat before speaking. “Well, I'll be visiting here regularly to conduct research. a small smile tugged on his lips. “You didn't get a chance to introduce me to the other Sages as they were busy with other matters. Figured I'd try to introduce myself to them today.”

“Nesna here, he turned slightly as he spoke about why she's here with him. “She’s here for her interview with the Prince. As per the decree that all newly arrived blight-born must follow.

Regrettably, heat rose into Eris’ cheeks. She cast a quick glance toward Nesna, trying to ignore how plainly the embarrassment showed plainly across her face. Of course it wasn’t unusual for Nathaniel to be here! Nor Nesna, for that matter! How could she forget that the Prince had intended to do more interviews today?!

“Oh, I—” She offered a sheepish smile, momentarily unsure which of Nesna’s eyes to meet. “Of course. I apologize, I—” She hesitated, glancing up at Zeph, who had glanced back down at her.

“My mind is a bit… scattered.” She admitted as her gaze returned to Nathaniel. “There was a… a break-in this morning.” She frowned, the memory of that daunting shadow lurking in her room flashing behind her eyes. “Nothing appears to be missing, but…”

“Hawthorne and I were just about to check the perimeter.” Zeph cut in before Eris could continue, his eyes shifting to his stone-faced partner. “Shall we?” He asked, nodding once toward the exit.

Without waiting for a reply, Zeph stepped around Nathaniel and veered toward the right of the Alchemy Chambers, eager to leave the nobles to their conversation. Eris seemed safe enough with another Sage at her side—one that she clearly knew.

And yet, despite knowing Nathaniel was more than capable of offering protection, Eris felt Zephyros’ absence immediately—cold and stark, like a shield suddenly stripped away from where his body had blocked her from full view of the blight-born.

Her eyes widened slightly, concern flickering as she watched Charlotte fall in step behind him—leaving another frigid void at her side.

Nathaniel's gaze shifted to Zeph. ”A break-in!?” Nathaniel blurted out, causing Eris to snap her attention onto him. His gaze went back to Eris. ”Are you ok?” he couldn't help but say to her.

Eris offered a small, restrained smile and nodded. “I’m alright. Shaken, but no one was harmed… at least, as far as we know.”

Her gaze drifted toward Zephyros and Charlotte again, a quiet prayer forming in her mind—a plea to Aelios that they wouldn’t find another soldier or civilian lying lifeless in the snow.

As Zeph passed, Nesna offered a nod and a smile. He returned the gesture with a wink—and let out a quiet chuckle as he felt the heat of Charlotte’s gaze burn into his back.

As soon as the guards took their leave, Nesna spoke once more. “Regarding my status here, there was one other detail Nathaniel suggested I might broach with you, my lady. I would, if you would have me, My Lady, offer myself up as a volunteer in any capacity you might see fit for your research.” Nesna stepped back as she spoke. She kept her stance rigid, and her arms and wings pulled in tightly. Her tone verged on apologetic, somehow bothered by her own request.

Eris blinked, her gaze drifting over Nesna—assessing her posture, the softness in her voice, the expression on her pallid face. There was a calmness to her, a measured composure that made her seem far more docile and stable than many of the other blight-born Eris had encountered. Certainly a more promising candidate than Miss Rykker, at the very least.

Nesna wasn’t the first blight-born to volunteer herself for study, and Eris doubted she’d be the last. But still, a thought gnawed at the back of her mind—why had it been Nathaniel to suggest the idea?

Given a moment to regain himself, Nathaniel eased himself. He focused on the other thing that Eris mentioned. ”Strange…” he mumbled cupping his jaw with his cold hand, the gears in his head turning. “Was there anything out of the ordinary that you or the other Sages might—” he paused for a moment as his eyes locked to hers. She was about to explain before that Zeph character interrupted her. ”You found something, didn't you?” he gently asks.

Eris glanced at Nathaniel, momentarily torn between the two. “Why don’t you both come inside?” She asked, turning her attention to Nesna before (bravely) stepping aside and motioning toward the entrance. “It’s awfully cold out and… it seems we have much to discuss.”

As they stepped in, Eris closed the door gently behind them, then gestured to the seating area to the right—where other blight-born would likely gather soon, awaiting their audience with the Prince and his advisor. “Please, sit wherever you’d like.”

Shaking the clumps of snow that clung to his hair and body, Nathaniel took a look at the chairs and the one small makeshift lounger. His cold, slightly numb fingers brushed along one of the fabric on the chairs. “I’ll sit in a moment.” he said softly. “I don't want to get these chairs wet from melting snow.”

Crossing to the far wall, Eris nodded and stopped in front of the hearth, the fire crackling softly. Holding out her hands toward the flames, she let the warmth slowly seep back into her skin. “Nathaniel,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “How familiar are you with enchantment magic?”

Cadia.

The name chimed clear in Amaya’s mind – a border town just outside the capital, little more than letters on a map for most of Amaya’s life.

Until two months ago.

Stiff, coarse bedsheets. The smell of smoke and oil and sweat. Unpainted wooden paneling, worn smooth and dark with age. A hush that fell over the streets like a smothering blanket, when citizens saw their carriages approaching, with their many guards and supplies.

Amaya had sat alone on a bed in ‘the finest establishment in Cadia,’ with a guard stationed just beyond her door. She’d been kept isolated for much of the journey from the capital to Dawnhaven, like they knew she might try to flee with Elara if they ever had a moment alone together. Like she might freeze the foreign Prince solid, her newly christened husband, if he dared to approach her.

Under different circumstances, Amaya might’ve run to the window – gaze out over the little outpost town, watch the quiet bustle of the citizens, trace the outline of unfamiliar buildings, grasp at this rare opportunity to expand her narrow world, if only by mere inches. But she didn’t need to look out the window to know that there was a guard stationed on the muddy street below, too.

Filled with silent, tearful, terrified fury, a storm turned inward on herself, Amaya had remained in the center of the room. The damning ring on her finger had anchored her in place. Taking in the sights of Cadia seemed unimportant. Cadia didn’t exist, not in the face of Amaya’s tumultuous emotions creeping through the seams of the room like ice.

Looking up at the guard now – Daphne, with her violet eyes – a sharp regret filled her. The squire’s soft voice washed over her, unguarded and clumsy. But open. Honest in a way that made her wary and on edge, like some trap was being laid that Amaya hadn’t yet found.

She suddenly wished she’d run to that window afterall. Borne witness to the way her kingdom was crumbling, brick by brick, as Daphne described. Maybe this shame, this deep ache in her bones that felt older than Amaya would ever be, was simply another cunning weapon turned against her.

The shadows cast against the guard’s face darkened. Deepened.

That soft voice wafter over Amaya, gentle, scalding, piercing words of ‘trust’ and it was like a brand –

Amaya snapped back into herself, back to cold, polished marble, impenetrable and unreadable.

The snow fell in familiar patterns, crystal flakes twisting in the wind.

Looking down at the last bit of shredded meat between her fingers, Amaya suddenly felt sick. Her stomach, still nearly empty, curled painfully around itself as the dark color of the meat seemed to grow more vibrant, more visceral. She forced herself to eat it, if only to keep herself from dropping it into the slurried mud. Iron was all she could taste.

Amaya was off balance, a phantom weight missing at her side. She wanted to reach her hand out to the side, just an inch or two – just enough for the edges of her fingers to brush against Elara’s, the silent reminder that she was there and safe –

“Thank you for telling me,” she finally said once she’d swallowed it down without expression. Her fingers curled around each other, refusing to reach for emptiness. The jerky – the flesh, torn and shredded and bloody – sat heavy in her stomach. She tried not to think of it. Instead, Amaya focused on the smoothness of her voice, the stillness of her hands, now clasped together in front of the folds of her skirt.

Amaya looked up to the Lunarian guard she didn’t know (but she could, she could, she could – she could ask more questions, about her likes, her friends, her fears – she could search until she found those poisoned edges waiting to slice and infect her, hidden beneath gentle words – she could demand to know all the hurts she’d known and all the ways Amaya had already failed her and let Daphne curse her as the useless tragedy of a Princess that she was – she could she could tell Daphne not to die for her) and stilled when she caught her gaze again.

Blue eyes drifted down, away from the squire’s face. They found the Lunarian sword at her hip. Amaya could still taste the meat on her tongue – smoke and spice, beneath the sickening iron.

She drew her gaze forward again, back out over the snow, and into the distant winter forest.

“Desperation makes animals of us.” Even before the sun disappeared, before the blight, Amaya knew that Lunarian life had never been easy. She’d been effectively barred from any practical knowledge of the kingdom beyond the walls of the palace, but she’d long ago discerned that the people of Lunaris had only grown hungrier under her father’s rule. Amaya wasn’t a fool. She knew the kind of man her father was. Arrogant. Cruel. Unconcerned. “And there has been too much of it, of late.”

Daphne was unsure about the Princess. She had a feeling that what she saw might be layered, complicated and something that was far more than just something she knew and had been allowed to see?

Something was off but it was not her place to pry or dig, she was a Princess and hardly able to ask such questions. She, however, was her guard now and that meant she had a job to do while the Prince interrogated the man. This… Gardener…?

Everything was…complicated and Daphne was not the best at this kind of riddle. She could fight, she would not be a Squire if not. She could adapt and lead, but riddles were a thing that Persephone was working on teaching her to grapple with and solve. Riddle this was, a man who claimed to be a Royal yet was a Gardener, a Monk. A Princess who seemed to have layers, a Prince who took a vested interest and more. She really would have had an easier time just staying late and cuddling Katherine, but Duty called for all of them.

”We made it this far. Options are slim for a Cadian Foundling. I take what comes my way milady, all I can do.”

Amaya glanced at Daphne again out of the corner of her eye as the Cadian squire shifted with her breath.

“I will keep your confidence.” The words drifted between them on thin, hazy wisps. A simple oath.

Something seemed to loosen slightly in her chest. Her fingers didn’t grip at each other quite so tightly. Her heart suddenly seemed less loud. The constant buzz of magic beneath her skin seemed to quiet –

Only to thrash again as she realized it was steadying.

Daphne gave her a nod of thanks for the fact her words would be safe. She had little in common with the Princess, but she had respect. She did not have to make such an agreement but had and that was a small but welcome gesture.

Movement caught Amaya’s attention on the periphery. Her gaze, again sharp and quick, snapped to find the threat.

Fair skin. Dark hair. Familiar Lunarian armor. A guard –

The guard.

The rest of the world seemed to fall away. Amaya was on that snowy path again, magic wild, panic as thick as blood in her veins, as Sir Abel died in a spray of crimson and the remaining guard shouted at her to run –

And now here he was again. Stock still, staring at her with dark eyes, like he wasn’t quite sure where he was, either. Standing several feet away on the other side of the Aurelian guards and their sunlit armor, he may as well have been directly in front of her. The man filled the entirety of her vision.

It shouldn’t have been so stunning to see him. She’d known he’d survived, logically. She’d been too much of a coward to ask Flynn this morning, but the question had been answered at the Moon Temple, when she’d learned the attacker yesterday had claimed a civilian, rather than a soldier.

But the difference between knowing and seeing...

Amaya wasn’t breathing. Was her heart even beating? The only thing in the world that was true was simply –

“You.”

He was alive.

It had only been a matter of days since Aliseth last saw her, yet it felt like a small eternity.
He gazed upon her as if seeing her for the first time. Eyes lingering a little longer than was proper.

He had seen her first, so he had time to prepare, but all planning vanished when her eyes fell upon him. Those deep wells.

She was more beautiful than he could have remembered. A scale to which all other things would be held. There was an air to her, a poise and prestige that elevated her above others. She held a regal grace. Built not on merit, but by lineage, opportunity and the belief and expectations of others.

Unfair as it might be, it was life. It was order. Order that Aliseth had vowed on his honour to protect.

Daphne felt the moment change as she watched Amaya’s voice and posture change. Moving to the front, one hand on a blade as an older Lunaris Guard came up, Dawnhaven markings. The younger Squire kept between partly as her charge's response was…strange and she did not take chances when given such responsibility. One of the Aurelian guards glanced up from fastening his horse's reins to a post, brown eyes flicking first to the approaching Lunarian, then to the Princess, before settling on Daphne. There were four of them, but she had been tasked with the Princess’ care… so she took that role seriously. She knew the Lunarian was a Royal Guard, but she was trained to take no chances and to confirm before she assumed he was safe.

Not restricted by the jail she moved faster than she should and away from its dampening effect, her balance reacted smoothly in line with the action. Amaya flinched away at the movement, too off-guard to smother the reaction. The rest of the world came crashing back into focus as she blinked, looking away from the Lunarian man to remember where they were – and all the eyes still on her.

“Oddly popular this day be, if you have business with the guest of the jail, I'm afraid you may have to wait,” she said. Daphne was no fool and saw how he had… caused a switch to the noble lady next to her. ”Squire Daphne, newly in. I'm afraid I do not have the honour of your name..” Daphne made a not so subtle probe/challenge, but she had known, even for a short time of service, good and bad Royal guards and she wanted to see if he could be trusted. Lord Coswain had been quite clear to never assume they were comrades to rely on until you discounted the opposite.

As Daphne spoke, the Aurelians subtly shifted their stance, already attuned to the change in the air. Two kept their gaze trained on Aliseth, one watched Daphne, and the fourth never wavered from the Princess.

Aliseth didn't even understand what or how it happened. It was as if a powerful magic pushed the rest of the world from his purview and brought him to one knee before her.

The air stilled in Amaya’s lungs.

"Princess," he said in solemn greeting. The end of his word drifting with the soft inflection of surprise or a question.

His voice rang in Amaya’s ears like the tolling of a bell. She heard it again – louder, harsher, ordering her to run. She stood, frozen in place, her fingers motionless even as energy buzzed beneath them. Again, again, again, they wanted to stretch forward, towards…

But he was not here to see her, she had not called him nor was she his current duty. Talking to her was not in his orders. Frivolities and small chat was not a luxury of his. Not with a princess. Besides, she was already protected by four other royal guards. Aurelian guards.

After a solid pause, head to the ground, he picked himself back up and carried on toward the building. Amaya’s heart raced as he moved, unvoiced words tumbling over themselves and damming her throat, a nameless opportunity slipping away.

But he didn’t get far.

One of the Aurelians—brown-eyed and blond—stepped forward and directly into Aliseth’s path, cutting off the way forward.

“Halt,” the guard said, voice steady and firm. “The Lady was speaking to you.” He gave a slight tilt of his head toward Daphne, his gaze fixed on Aliseth. “She’s the guard on duty. You’ll wait until she clears you.”

There was no mockery in his tone—just protocol. The unspoken message was clear: rank didn’t grant Aliseth leave to walk through without heed. Not here. Not anymore.

Daphne found it strange that the Aurelian Royal guards were very much the unexpected allies and support. She wore different armour, carried a different pair of matched blades and bore the eyes of a different land and culture. Daphne was not sure as she reached to check her long dark hair tied back, a small non-military nod to the fact she remained a woman if she was a guard.

In fact, Daphne paused as she moved her hand and checked her back with subconscious thought to confirm the knife that rested to her back. A knife, swords, she was well armed for a close fight. She gave the guard a nod for the support…an unexpected and rather strange day was just getting stranger.

“Thank you. Jail’s closed for the Prince, you wiIl have to wait your turn here or pay Sya for an ale.” Daphne said more firmly and looked to the side keeping an eye to movement about her. Was this man a threat to the Princess? She had no idea, but her reaction to the man was… noticed. Really could she have just cuddled Katherine and had a lazy morning? But Duty… Duty.

‘Pay Sya for an ale’ the words of the young Lunarian town guard had the same effect upon Aliseth’s face as might an extremely sour lemon.

The disdain and disbelief radiated from his features as he looked down his nose at her. He was either at a loss for words or deciding she was beneath them.

Slowly Aliseth turned his eyes back onto the brown eyed guard standing before him.
He allowed a moment of silence to capture the space between them as he stared intently, assertively, assessingly.

“I recognise neither of your authorities and at the current moment you are illegally obstructing me from my duties, so I strongly suggest you keep to yours and allow me to do mine.”

There was an elegantly laced venom in his voice amplified to the guard before him-and him alone-with subtle psychic magic. He was hardly going to shuffle off and report to his commander that he failed to follow orders because of some no-one door bitch and a few pompous sun-lovers who told him to go get a drink instead.

If he had the time he might have questioned the intent of his orders, did his commander not know of the princesses location? Was this deliberate? It didn't matter, he was a soldier and it was not his job to question orders, just follow them.

Meanwhile, in the distance, Aliseth's presence was noted and watched by more than one pair of eyes. Had he not been distracted by the princess, he might have noticed.

“Sir.”

A soft voice cut through the building tension.

The increasing harshness of their tones, the evaluating glint of their attentions, the muffled shifting of leather against metal and snow… Amaya felt them all like nails trailing lightly against her, and with each passing moment she wanted to shrink deeper and deeper into herself.

Danger, it all whispered against her skin. Blood.

The sound of her own voice fractured the ice holding her in place.

“Your diligence is commendable,” she said, her words miraculously even. They tasted like that strip of jerky she’d forced herself to swallow – spiced and smoked iron that landed like a rock – in her stomach – at her feet. She could almost see it rolling at the bottom of her vision – crimson and dark, the shredded remains of Abel’s mutilated head staining the snow bloody.

But she forced herself to keep looking at the survivor. Had his scowl been that deep yesterday? Had his eyes been that shadowed and hollow?

Did hers look the same?

Amaya buried the images of blood and bone and tried to hide behind the role she was meant to play. The diplomat. The peacekeeper. The Princess.

But she caught his dark eyes and somehow felt laid bare beneath her mask of calm – he’d seen her terror yesterday. He’d known her failures. He’d suffered for them.

Pulling her gaze away from the Lunarian, she looked to the other guards. To Daphne, and her Cadian eyes.

“Dawnhaven is fortunate to have steadfast men and women to protect it.” The implication hung in the air – they were all on the same side. There was no need for in-fighting. Perhaps she should’ve been relieved that at least the Aurelian guards seemed to be defending Daphne, especially after the ordeal at the Moon Temple. But she was too taut with nerves, an unsettled flurry of ice beneath her skin.

Just like that the tension melted away. Soft spoken words smothering the flames of egos.

Daphne was watchful as she stood guard and backed down, moving from her blocking posture, her pace normal as the Princess seemed to want to talk, she could intercede if needed but she would go by lead and just assumed the Princess knew what she wanted. ”Of course Mi’lady.” Daphne would stay with her but dropped the block and defensive mode.

She looked towards Asileth, the guard she did not know yet, she did not feel bad about doing Her job. She had to protect the Princess, she had to challenge him; it was just business not personal. ”Just the job, nothing against you, I just got here, not wanting to fail. I'm in my first week.” Daphne said more lightly and less sternly now the Princess had calmed things down, the tension had dropped and gave a thankful nod to the silver armoured guards staying nearby with the horses.

She would follow, or do whatever needed as and when.

“Well, start by learning rank and try harder next time.” the Lunarian royal guard chastised with a mumble as his eyes passed over the lowest ranking servant present, but even his final stab lacked any true thrust, all bite stripped from his words and delivered utterly lacklustre.

Daphne remained alert regardless of the fact Princess and the guard seemed to know each other though less words and more stilted than the tone with Daphne, maybe it was less history? An murder and battle to death tended to be a lot of baggage to deal with. Her hand lowered from the grip of her blade and kept an close eye on the environment.

A rather complicated history seemed to be about, Daphne really wanted to just cuddle a priestess or take her for lunch. Could life not be… more Daphne and less Drama?

She gave the guard Daphne had no name for a nod, he seemed one of the good ones or least not the ones that would get her killed hopefully. ”Lord, knight or recruit, I had to challenge you, I was asked to escort the Princess, you seem a good one.” Daphne added in way of an apology, though she did not apologise for doing her job, duty to challenge was a duty.

“I do apologize for the obstruction,” the Princess said, turning her eyes back to the man. She second guessed her words the moment they left her mouth, remembering what’d happened when she’d attempted to claim authority in the temple. With the Commanders. “His Highness should conclude his business soon. You won’t be held responsible for the delay.” Could she promise that? After the ordeal with Volkov and Barrett, Amaya wasn’t sure that they’d stop bickering long enough to respect any authority, but Flynn’s was a better bet than hers. That empty void at her side reverberated with silent echoes, a vacuum that pulled at her to reach for anything steady at all.

Her hands curled tighter around each other, tying themselves in place.

“Until then…”

There – the first fracture in her mask, a nervousness creeping through her voice like hairline fractures spiderwebbing across a lake’s frozen surface.

“I wonder… if we might have a word?”

---

Location Outside Temple of Seluna.

---

Hearing a voice, Evelyn jumped, causing some of her red locks to spill over her face. The sudden scare set her heart racing.Oh dear, now I'm making a fool of myself in front of people, those words raced through her mind. With a quick hand motion, she managed to sweep her hair aside. As she moved to see better, she noticed a pair of boots and realised someone was facing her. Her pulse raced; someone had witnessed her stumble.

She heard him ask if she was okay.

"Yes, I am okay. Thank you," she replied, her gaze darting up his legs, abdomen, and jaw until it paused on the man standing before her. He was the very individual she had been admiring less than a minute ago, which had caused her to lose focus on the snow. Her cheeks began to heat from the embarrassment of staring at him.

His eyes, bright and magnificent, were a clear indication that he was, in fact, Blight-born. Those crimson orbs, paired with his porcelain skin, were partially illuminated by the nearby torchlight. He resembled a statue with twin rubies for eyes, eyes that could pierce into the soul of any being, human or Blight-born.

"Ye-Yes, I am okay, thank you,"she stammered, realising she had already said that. Goddess, curse her for her foolishness.

It was only then that Evelyn realised she had been staring at the handsome Blight-born. The spark of reality made her cheeks burn even more.

"A thousand apologies, young Lord," she managed to say. I did not mean to stare, "I—I..." Evelyn grabbed the sides of her dress and dropped into a deep, apologetic curtsey, her head bowed similarly.

"Miss Marrion, at your service young Lord." She mentioned keeping her gaze downward, as a way to help him gain control, but it's common for her to bow and greet nobles this way and it's how she would address her customers of noble stature

---

Mentions: Orion @Qia

"You already walk beside the herald of destruction, Flynn of Aurelia. You seek to eat the apple and still keep it, greed at it's finest. You are his son indeed! But our world is not as kind as the land in a fairytale!

If you walk this path, you will not only lose yourself, but her too... and many others. Gaze upon this moment, Red Star! Look back and allow regret to be your cruel yet efficient teacher, as you walk down that path."

The blue eyed prisoner spoke out his words loud, his face close to the iron bars. He allowed himself a soft sigh, his grip on the bars loosening as he leaned back.

"Enjoy finding the truth! I found it a long time ago before you were even born!" He yelled after Flynn, then allowed a smirk form on his lips.

His work was now done at the jail, for now. Whilst the wolf had not come sniffing, the prince had. While indeed, the monk was physically within the cell, he would now most likely be a haunting specter in Flynn's head. At least that was what he assumed, after all, their meeting had not only been to find out what kind of man he were, but also if he was worthy to lead Dawnhaven. The warrior-monk was not convinced, yet the younger man was seemingly not fully under Auric's thumb.

He was ambitious, overly so, like a man who had never lost a battle. The blond prisoner gave a slight snort.

He had lost battles in the past himself, but winning or losing battles were part of life. One could still win... the war. Despite having displayed the brand so clearly, Prince Flynn had seemingly not yet realized what it meant and he had been careless to not see a minute detail.

'Power that defies all laws...'

It was such a dangerous feeling. A poison of the mind and body. It corrupts the soul.

'...love...'

Such a double-edged sword, it gave such power, but a very fatal flaw. A vulnerable mark. A parent... a lover.... or a child.

'... what was it that the lynx hid within, a secret dangerous as sin...'

The blond man's eyes wandered to the wall opposite of the bars where he seemed to see the shape of a darkhaired young woman, her grey eyes peaceful, a soft smile on her lips, in her hands, wrapped in the softest of cloth it were.

' ...the stone in paw, a result of alchemy's law...'

The cloth unfurled, in it's careful embrace it laid. A smooth gemstone. A precious dark gem. Shimmering with hidden hue of gold. Then the image of the woman faded away. The monk closed his eyes momentarily, his mind wandering over the time he had spent locked up and the people that had visited him. Zephyros. Elio. Flynn. Amaya. The tall girl from the inn and finally the Raunefeldt girl. It had been an eventful time to be a prisoner.

But then again, had he not always been a prisoner? The more he allowed that thought to peck at him the more he felt to give in to laughter.

His blue eyes slowly opened to set eyes upon the wall again, this time the he thought he could see a blonde haired and blue eyed young woman standing in place where the darkhaired spectre of his past once had been.

Those piercing familiar blue eyes. He knew them.

The long blonde hair around that pale smooth skin.

'...the stone hid in plain sight, it's fairness concealed by the mane of it's fallen creator...'

'...bearing it's maker's name. Held between the remaining maker and it's mortal foe...'

"A wise warrior keeps his heart beyond his foes reach. Isn't that right?" The blond man smirked and then set his eyes at the bars ahead of him. It was time to bid his leave of the cell. There were much work that needed to still be done. Dawnhaven would become the beacon with or without Flynn. After all, why else had he decided to bring his heart with him? It couldn't be allowed to slip into Auric's hands after all. He was going to leave the cell the coming night, one way or the other. He had things which he needed to take care of. He was a gardener after all.

'If you only knew how close you were to finding out where it is. Red Star. Destroy me and it will in turn destroy you no matter what you choose to do.'

He began to chuckle before it turned into full blown laughter, echoing down the stone corridor leading from his cell. Some would have likely thought him mad. But what else can one be, in a world as mad as this?

Feeling the warmth from the hearth slowly begins to warm himself up, Nathaniel let out a small sigh of relaxation. It was then Eris asked him a question. He looked at her, her face, her form cast in the hearth's warm light. Nathaniel's eyebrow raised in interest by her question. “Enchantment?”

“I know about the Enchantment magic, how it works. But being able to use it, a small shake of his head before continuing. “I am unable to cast Enchantment magic.” Putting a hand into the inside of his coat, he pulls out a small notebook. “My mother insisted that I bring some books on magic that I can't use, as a way to help assist other sages if it was ever required.”

”I'm guessing the object you found has something to do with Enchantment magic.” As he began to flick through the pages of the notebook in his hand.

“I’m not sure yet.” Eris sighed, her gaze flicking back to the hearth. “I can ask one of the other Sages to assist. Lady Rovella knows some enchantment. I know it well myself, but I…” Her voice trailed off as she pressed her lips together in minor disappointment.

“I helped heal the Princess yesterday and I’m afraid it nearly took everything I had…” She looked down at her hands, turning them over in the firelight, silently feeling for the faded threads of her magic—sputtering and weak beneath her skin. A low supply of mana had never been a problem for her. Adjusting to that reality was maddening.

“If only Aelios were to return…” Eris muttered under her breath, barely audible.

Nathaniel paused through flipping his small book to gaze at her, the expression on her face made him want to reach out to grip her hand and comfort her, it took all of his being to resist the urge to do so. “I think that's an amazing thing you did, it's not everyday that you get to heal a princess. You likely saved this whole Dawnhaven project by taking that risk.” he smiled.

Eris’ gaze dropped to the fire, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. What she’d done hadn’t felt amazing. It was her duty to do what she could for the royals. And had she been at full strength, she could have healed the Princess alone, without all the repercussions she was dealing with today.

Still, his acknowledgement was… nice to hear.

“I'd likely have done the same thing if I was in your shoes.” before he realised he had moved closer to her. A wave of crimson washed his cheeks as if he spoke a bit too boldly, especially as he caught his free hand reaching for hers, he snapped it back hopefully no one was able to see, then went back to looking through his book.

Letting her hands fall to her sides, Eris turned to face her two guests. For a moment, she watched as Nathaniel flipped through his notebook, then shifted her gaze. “I appreciate your willingness to help our research, Nesna.” She said softly, her tone warm and sincere—feeling safe at the other side of the room. “We need all the help we can get.”

She paused, gaze lingering on the folds of Nesna’s wings, then returned her gaze to meet the other woman’s four vacant eyes. An idea taking shape.

“If the Prince and his advisor grant you permission to stay… I wonder if you might be willing to join us on an upcoming expedition into the wilds?” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “We’ve found that blight-born are far more resistant to blight itself. And we don’t currently have any winged blight-born… Your vantage point could be invaluable. If you’re willing, of course.”

Nesna nodded along. “But of course. I’m more than happy to help.” She paused for a moment. Her hands tensed into fists briefly, before relaxing again. “I should confess, though, that I just can’t see all that well at a distance. I can try my old spectacles, but I might recommend taking along a volunteer to fly with me.” She shook her head and sighed. Not wanting to sour a discussion with new acquaintances and potential superiors with such talk of inconvenience, she quickly donned a smile, and added a little jest. “Four eyes and none of them are any good at seeing. Isn’t that just another one of the Blight’s little jabs?”

Eris blinked, surprised–and a bit disappointed—by the admission, then let out a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh. “You’re not the first to have a few… complications from the blight.” She said with a bemused, sympathetic smile. “I appreciate you offering to help despite them.”

She folded her hands loosely in front of her, eyes drifting over Nesna. The blight-born’s arms didn’t look particularly muscular, though Eris knew that their strength was rarely reflected by their outward appearance. Nesna smiled at the statement and the inspection.

“Can you carry much weight while in flight?” She asked curiously. If Nesna could carry the full weight of an adult human, it was quite an impressive feat. One that Eris had no intention of testing firsthand.

“I can see about pairing you with someone light, perhaps?”

Nesna’s brow furrowed and her eyes dimmed as she sunk into thought. For a moment, she was silent. Her head bobbed indecisively from side to side. At last, she opened her mouth to respond, albeit not without some measure of hesitation. “...I imagine I should be able to manage that.” She clicked her tongue and tightened her lips. “Though come to think of it, I only know I can carry some amount of weight—I’ve never actually pushed myself in that regard.”

Eris smiled and gave a small nod. It was almost a relief that Nesna hadn’t attempted flying with a grown adult dangling beneath her. She could only imagine how horrifying that experience might be. Outside of specific circumstances, anyone caught there was likely prey… at least in her mind.

“We can do some testing on your limitations.”

Her gaze drifted to Nathaniel, still half-buried in his notes. After a brief pause, she offered a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll be just a moment.”

With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared down the nearby hallway that led to the lab.

The fire crackled softly in her absence.

A couple minutes later, two sets of footsteps returned. Eris stepped into view with another woman at her side—an older brunette, her usual no-nonsense expression as unreadable as ever.

“Penn, this is Nathaniel Stormlight. He’s a Sage from Aurelia. Arrived recently.” She gestured towards him before turning slightly. “And this is Nesna. She’s waiting on her approval from the Prince, but she’s offered to assist with our research.”

Penelope offered a brief nod to them both, her sharp eyes flicking between them—quietly analyzing.

“Nathaniel and Nesna, this is Lady Rovella. Another Sage. And a great teacher.” Eris flashed Penelope a smile, which earned a faint twitch of amusement at the corners of the older Sage’s mouth—gone as quickly as it came.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” she asked politely, offering a small bow before continuing toward the stairwell. Penelope followed silently, vanishing up the stairs and into Eris’ private quarters.

Five minutes passed.

When they returned, Eris came down first. Penelope followed quietly behind, merely shooting a wary glance in the group's direction before retreating back into the lab, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

Eris approached Nathaniel, her right hand closed tightly around something. Without a word, she stopped just in front of him and slowly opened her hand. Nathaniel stopped looking through his notes, closing the book, to gaze at Eris standing in front of him.

Resting in the center of her palm was a translucent gemstone, pale and glimmering faintly in the firelight.

She stared at it for a moment, then lifted her gaze—first to Nathaniel, then to Nesna. Her expression remained neutral, but her eyes were carefully observant. As subtly as she could, she watched for the tiniest flicker of recognition. Or guilt. As if Nesna might still be the intruder—not fully convinced that their timing was mere coincidence.

“This was left in my room… after the break in.”

_{Location: Aelios Temple Hot Springs}

---

Ivor’s eyes shot open in surprise as he saw a ball of fur fly at the man he was addressing. With barely a moment to turn, let alone process, the little man he’d just given his clothing to was now back in the water. Aurelians were certainly still strange to the blightborn, it left him scratching his head, wondering if the little man was just too cold that furs were not warm enough. Having grown up in the snowy and treacherous terrain all his life, Ivor felt no discomfort, regardless of his transformation. When the first Aurelians came, it amused the giant to no end how weak to the cold everyone was; now it was just concerning.

Other voices stirred Ivor from his thoughts as he turned to look at both the little man and sudden newcomer. Ivor beamed as he instantly recognized the face of Rider, though to his credit it was difficult to forget someone who once needed his aid. “Rider! Good to be seeing-”

"This is a crone-free area! No witches are allowed! Purse-phony Coarse-Swine!"

“...do you need a blanky… or a pop of shine for your sore gums?”

Ivor’s eyes narrowed as he watched the verbal exchange between the two. The giant knew he was rather large in both presence and voice, but this little man- Marcus Ale Rainfort, despite his size, took loud to a whole new and rather derogatory level. In an oddly adorable way, this Marcus reminded Ivor of an old goat he once tended to in his youth. Loud, obnoxiously so, would spit up often, but he’d startle at the sight of his own shadow. Ivor wondered briefly at what it would take to have the little goat braying all the way home.

"You. Igor! You find priestess. Bring me her towel! Understood?!

The little guy could certainly project…did he say something about a life debt? Who was he even yelling at now? Before Ivor had a chance to think, the answer presented itself in the form of Syraea. The blightborn woman was being as kind and sociable as ever, although something seemed different about her interaction with Marcus. She seemed interested in him and also not at the same time…even as blightborn he didn’t fully understand the wiles of women.

The snow crunched beside him as the tall Lunarian approached. The man returned Ivor’s furs before taking a moment to apologize in advance. Ivor raised a brow as the man turned away and began walking towards the pool of water, doffing his gear and smallclothes as he gave an impassioned diatribe. As he spread himself in glory for all to see, Ivor couldn’t help but burst out laughing, clapping in applause, “Yessss! Very Good! Let it all hang out!”

Quickly the tone shifted from devious fun to deathly anxious and Ivor witnessed something he thought he only experienced. The man’s shape began to morph, muscle and bone shifted, hair turned into dense fur. Ivor watched entranced, envious, knowing that whatever magicks was involved here made the transformation look more natural and seem to feel far less painful than anything he endured. The tonal shift in the wolf-man’s voice snapped the giant out of it and within a few large strides he was on the creature.

Before allowing it to pounce in the water Ivor’s mitt shot out and clenched at the direwolf’s scruff, a dense thicket of fur and loose skin. With all his might he hoisted the wolf up in one motion, managing to break high enough to wrap both his arms around the body of the beast. The wolf was heavy, a writhing mass of muscle that was bigger than Ivor and just as strong as he was. Whatever grip the blightborn had on the creature wasn’t going to last long, but ideally long enough to at least get him out of the springs.

“Ivor think that is enough for today,” his body turned the wolf away as his head turned towards Ayel, “Mr. Marcus, it was good to be meeting you today, I believe this,” he hoisted the wolf up to get a better grip, “should cover Ivor’s life debt, but he is needed elsewhere and Ivor needs to cut wood for fire.” The snarling man…wolf…wolf man clearly did not like Ivor’s manhandling at all, “Argh, easy, easy now! Ivor has to go, but be safe, stay warm, good to be seeing you Rider! Say hello to Agnar!” He briefly turned and nodded to Persephone, then shouted in his native tongue, his voice echoing off the rocks, “Syraea! I’m off to get the wood! See you back at the Eye!” All the while he began to walk away, struggling to hold the Lunarian direwolf still long enough as the two disappeared through the mist and into the woods.

---

_{Interacting with: Ayel @Dezuel, Valthyr @Fetzen, Sya & Persephone @PrinceAlexus}

“Of course your highness. Anything you request.” He found himself beginning to bow once again as he politely responded to the princess. Realising he had already done so once before he attempted to save grace by turning the manoeuvre into a deep heavy nod instead.

His armor clinked and clattered as he stared at the snow covered floor. He let his eyes linger unfocused on the perfect white powder, disturbed by a single grubby boot print, for a short moment as he took a silent but deep breath, buying a second to regain his thoughts and composure. ’He had talked to the princess before, so why was he nervous this time?’

As his head rose so two did his well worn armor of confidence. It clicked into place as a soft smile formed on his lips. It was nothing too large but just warm enough to be disarming. Wide enough to cover any doubts. He watched and waited to follow her lead, completely and deliberately disregarding the Aurelian guards presence.

She didn’t return his smile.

Silent and still beneath the falling snow, Amaya held his gaze. She should have felt the weight of the gathered guards’ attention, eyes pressing and scrutinizing. Their silence should’ve been deafening as they watched her. But as Amaya looked at the man smiling at her – smiling, like she hadn’t glimpsed ghosts behind his eyes just moments ago, like a fire hadn’t been moments away from igniting with a single stray spark – her world seemed to narrow again.

She heard the echo of his voice shouting to run. Her lungs filled with iron as blood misted through the winter air.

“I thank the Moon that you survived.” Soft words slipped out of her. Too soft. Too fragile. Too inadequate. They were every fault that had been weighed against Amaya for her entire life.

She closed her mouth, tightening her fingers around each other again.

“We would’ve died if not for you.”

Amaya felt Elara’s hand in hers, delicate fingers turned rigid and vice-like as they ran. She breathed in the scent of her friend’s perfume as they clung to each other, like they might be ripped apart if they didn’t anchor themselves in place together.

Like they might lose each other.

That phantom grip around her hand closed around her throat instead, damming the sudden emotion that ebbed to the surface.

Blinking rapidly, Amaya pulled her gaze away from the guard to look down at her hands – just for a moment, she told herself. Something burned behind her eyes. The part of her mind that could never stop thinking about judgements and implications and scrutiny, railed against her break of composure.

“And Sir Abel,” she finished when she was sure her voice wouldn’t falter. It was still too soft. She could still smell blood. But when she looked back up at the guard, her eyes were clear.

“Thank you.”

Daphne considered Sir Abel. Well, there was not much they could do bar send him on his way to the afterlife as he would of liked, he was dead…dead men could not enjoy things. ”We can remember him, and carve his name, it’s not much but it's more than many. Least long as legible.”

Daphne fell quiet as she waited, handmaidens, the suspect escaped yes, because no one was able to narrow them down quickly. Her master had tried and taken men after it but only slain the decoy? Was it an attempt at a decoy to aid the escape?

Maybe she gave away she knew more than Daphne seemed but info kept you alive. Not knowing really got you killed more than anything else. Least escorting the Priestess had worked out rather well for the tall woman who waited for the Prince to return, or whatever drama Dawnhaven had in spades.

At the mention of the deceased guard, of his partner, Aliseth gave a little nod as his jaw tightened. There was a twitch on his lip, a micro expression of emotion filtering through the mask. It was not sorrow nor remorse, but a hint of anger. And his eyes, without changing, changed. As he stood still and at attention looking at her majesty, they were filled with judgment, question, and above all, something else. Blame.

It slid like a blade into Amaya’s chest, too sharp for her to feel it, but piercing all the same.

Without saying it, without gesturing it, without hinting at it, it was like his thought was psychically pushed out to hover in the cold air before her. On it rode judgement, doubt, frustration. A single unsaid question of disappointment.

’Why?’

“You need give no thanks my highness, it was my duty and honour.”

’To die, watch others die, and kill as consequence of your actions.’

“I am glad to see that you are well.” ’Sister gods forbid that the execution order of a beggar should interrupt your day.’

“Yet, regrettably I must inform you of my failings.” He made extra effort not to look to the faces of anyone else surrounding him. “But the blightborn yet evades us and is still alive and roams freely.”

There was almost a hint of respect or admiration that one might give to a worthy opponent. He had fought off two royal guards, a power wielding princess and evaded capture of an entire town afterall.

Then, as if just realising what was out of place, he added. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn.” His voice fell to but a whisper “my snow dove” and then carried on as normal without missing a beat, as if those three words were never just said.

Something crawled beneath Amaya’s skin like ice. She stilled in place.

“But I can't help but notice your handmaiden is not with you....” His warm deep tone signaling a concerned question.

But Amaya barely heard it.

The entire world seemed to fall away, reality narrowing and solidifying to just the short distance between herself and the guard. It was silent — save for those soft words ringing over and over again in her mind.

He’d whispered the words so quietly. The guard’s voice had been little more than the brush of wind through dying winter leaves, barely crossing the open air between them. Amaya wasn’t even sure she’d heard him properly.

But those words rang in her mind, as deafeningly as they’d been just yesterday, an intrusive voice forcing them into her as she’d fled.

My snow dove.

“No.” Amaya’s voice sounded distant to her own ears — like she was underwater.

Like she was drowning.

Her face was blank as she watched the guard, their gazes locked. She couldn’t move.

That aching void around her hand, the space that Elara should’ve filled, stabbed at her like a festering wound. Amaya tightened her grip, like she’d feel her friend squeezing back. Instead of Elara’s warmth though, there was only the sharp cut of her own nails pressing into her palm.

But harsher than the pain was the sudden shot of panic coursing through her. That haunting voice echoed in her mind again — taunting. Malicious. Words circled Amaya like a pack of wild dogs.

Maybe my attention has been on the wrong person.

Elara’s face flashed through her mind — full of fear, and rage, and grief. Warm and gentle as a blooming flower. Distant and unreachable as she left Amaya behind.

The cold began to solidify at her fingertips, curled into the fabric of her skirts.

Expression still neutral, gaze never flinching, Amaya tried to quiet her heart. She tried to breathe. But she could feel her nerves building like an indomitable storm on the horizon, rolling ever closer to shore.

“She is not,” Amaya managed to continue, voice even. She wanted to snatch her words back out of the air the moment they left her lips, that she’d revealed anything at all about where Elara was or wasn’t today.

She saw the painful memory of Elara fleeing deeper into the Moon Temple — away from her. But she was suddenly thankful for it. Whatever danger lurked in the shadows, Elara was as safe in the temple — away from her — as she could be in Dawnhaven.

Ice blue eyes studied the guard, like she might find the truth of those words in his expression alone. Why had he called her that? Had he said it at all, or was her exhausted mind playing tricks on her?

“What progress has been made on the search for the attacker?”

Ever observant, Aliseth’s eyes questioned the princess with a silent concern. They briefly flick towards the clenched empty grip at her side. Whatever accusations lay in her gaze, whatever answers she sought from his face, they weren't there. He held only duty and concern. (and perhaps the briefest twitch of a smirk in the corner of his lips, vanishing before it had ever appeared, or was she just imagining that too.)

At the question of progress, the emotion of frustration became clear on his face.
“I would not know your highness, I have been removed from all tasks relating to it for the time being. In the commander’s wisdom I have been given ‘low stress’ duties until I can be proven recovered. ”

He let out a soft sigh as his eyes passed the question on over to all the other guards present, adding his own curiosity.
“They will likely be able to update you more than I.”

Daphne was unsure what relationship existed between the guard and Princess but her violet eyes did not miss that there was an awkward yet connection none the less and no one had acted to end it abruptly. That was strange but she guessed in such a place the guards were more involved and closer to their charges than the Capital protocol and so it was great but Dawn Haven was a world apart. It was pretty much useless To go by the book here, the book did not cover everything this town had to challenge it.

”Still looking Princess, Lord Coswain, the Prince's advisor, also with a champion of Sun temple and so im told tried to run them down, from both guards. They ran down a decoy in the woods, intended or taken advantage of. ” Daphne added her dark hair braided and bouncing as she moved in a light wind of motion.

”Thats most I know, i got sent to Temple, spent the night, and sorted Priestess Katherine her breakfast as they yet to fully get organised. ” Daphne suppressed the slight blush at that morning, skipping over the rather more personal knowledge of the woman.

Somehow the idea that some facts needed not be said. The fact they missed and connected here was just sheer oddity of fate.

Changing the subject to another topic she turned to see the other guard and his light duties, he was off the main investigation. Light duties were not always light, just really boring. ”So armoury duty? Or did you upset him and you're now on paper work? ” Daphne said treating the guard better now she classed him a good egg.

“Worse… prison duty”

”Tell Sya, drink or lunch on me, as an apology.” Daphne said with a way of a peace offering. Something to show she meant it.

”You good Princess, please let me know if you need anything?” She asked with a checking glance to her, making sure as her energy right now was…strange? Everything was strange right now so she asked and the taller woman made sure to bend a little to not tower over the Royal quite so much but could not be helped!

The Lunarian Royal guard seemed to ignore Daphne’s offer. “It’s terrible to think he is still out there. That murderous blight born. Who knows what danger or scheming he is up to....” Aliseth let his gaze drift off into the unknown, out into the still darkness beyond the lantern lit snow. “Or what other powers he has.”

“All who were present then should remain in the company of guards. Who knows what he might try next.”
He let a small ominous pause fill the air, enough time for thoughts to take shape before concluding.

“If Elara is not sharing your protection, with your word, I will guard her as if she were you.” Aliseth offered, his dark eyes settling back on Amaya’s with their cold intensity.

“His Highness ordered a unit to Lady Moonshadow's side last night, Your Highness.”

The brown-eyed guard who still blocked the path to the jail door finally spoke, his voice firm. He’d been silent through the exchange, but not idle, watching everything.

“They should have reported to her this morning.

Aliseth’s eyes didn't move but his gaze completely changed. There was confusion, judgement and realisation in his questioning look, although he dare not give voice to it. Her handmaiden had been gone that long, and on top of that the prince had been making decisions about her people and interests without her knowledge.

It all lead into his true moment to shine, an opportunity to not only test but flex his skills and powers. Sadly for him, no one would ever know the brilliance of his actions, the depths of his details, the careful calculations, the mastery of his craft, few others could weave a story, sow chaos, elicit such emotion without ever saying a single word.

"Oh, I see." He drew the princesses attention to himself with soft words, almost a sadness hidden in them. His eyes search hers deeply once again.

His expression -in that moment they shared- expertly crafted to portray his disappointment in her. It was in the subtle tilt of his head, his shifting posture, the tension in his lips, heavy in the creases on his face, but mostly, the eyes.
They held the disappointment he felt for the leader of their people, not holding power or knowing the going-ons in and of her own court. That disappointment and resignation clearly weighed on his thoughts, thoughts that she was too weak and had handed them over to the rule of an Aurelian instead. That she was not the princess that they had all hoped for, dreamed of, fought and died for. Not even her own handmaiden followed her, why would a city?
He lay his thoughts bare for her and her alone to read.

It was a conclusion to a long held fear realised. The final piece of undeniable evidence. In that moment of realization something extinguished in Aliseth's eyes. Was it hope? Perhaps love, loyalty or respect? Whatever it was, it died right before her, because of her. And she would know, then and there, that he was but the first domino. -that was his unspoken story anyway.

"That is good, I'm glad she will be safe." He said softly with a forced smile and a faint nod. He looked more tired now, weaker even. His skin sitting heavy on his face, his weight shifting to one side as he favoured his left foot.
"She’s probably safer away from ’you’ the palace anyway.

His words wove a net around Amaya, threads of doubt and guilt and fear and grief twisting together in intricate patterns like lace — like a veil. It slipped against her skin, drawing itself along her throat. It began to tighten.

Though her expression never changed, her eyes unfocused — drew inward. The world around her blurred, until only the masked truth that the guard laid before her remained in sharp clarity.

That she was a disappointment, as her father had always known.

That her handmaiden had turned from her duty and refused to follow Amaya any longer.

That she was so ineffectual that a foreign prince had made decisions about Elara’s safety without her.

The thought held in her mind — and then fractured.

Amaya’s heart stuttered in her chest as a sudden surge of magic lashed against her control. Hidden in the folds of her skirt, Amaya’s frigid hands flinched — they’d turned numb at some point, without her notice. The movement sent an arc of pain up her veins.

Finally, Amaya’s eyes refocused. They found the guard again — sallow skin framing the hard flint of his eyes. He seemed so weary beneath his intensity. It was as if the mere act of speaking with Amaya had drained him, sapped him of his proud strength.

The broken shards behind Amaya’s gaze glimmered in the moonlight as her magic surged like stormwater beneath her skin. It froze into creeping, cutting, arctic ice, throwing itself furiously against her control.

A slight tightening of her mouth. The deathly still way she held herself. The way the air seemed to grow so slightly colder, the snow just a bit quicker as it fell around them. These were the only indications to the war suddenly waging within her as she looked at the guard who’d saved her life.

But beneath the raging tempest, beneath howling winds and a thundering heart, Amaya heard a voice — one she knew better than her own.

It was the echo of Elara, voice thick with fear and grief, desperately asking Amaya why she had been so foolish yesterday — and begging her never to do it again. She saw the pain on her friend’s face. Amaya had planted it there.

The world snapped back into focus, expanding like lungs filling with a gasp of air. Reality existed beyond just Amaya, and her storm, and the guard. Beside her was Squire Daphne of Cadia. Surrounding her were the Aurelian guards who’d seen her unravel and falter time and again today, but hadn’t yet decided that she was more threat than ward.

They all watched her — as closely as Sir Abel had for most of her life, until he became a mangled corpse on the ground. The image of the guards littering the ground around her, Lunarian and Aurelian alike, flashed in her mind.

Amaya’s hidden hands tightened, the cold lancing up her veins. She tried to focus on the pain.

Still, she did not look away from the guard.

“The house,” she corrected softly, her voice faint as fog against the night air as frost ghosted past her lips. It was all she could manage — if she didn’t whisper, she would scream. “I left the palace behind in the capital”

Along with its high marble walls, and watchful shadows.

She held his gaze — took in his sunken face and his steady eyes — as the sound of iron sliding into place and wood crunching against snow signaled the opening of the prison door.

Hearing the door, the brown-eyed guard turned and quickly stepped aside.
“Your Highness,” he greeted, offering a formal bow.

Amaya’s pulse jumped.

Flynn gave a curt nod but said nothing. His gaze moved past the guard, sweeping over the entire group before settling on Amaya. A brief moment of relief loosened its grip around his lungs at the sight of her—safe, flanked by guards—only to tighten again at the look in her eyes.

Subtle, but he’d seen it before.
Whatever invisible thread that bound his heart to hers pulled taut.

His gaze shifted to the guard she faced. The dark-haired man was unknown to him, but based on the armor, Flynn recognized the weight of his station.

Stepping forward, Flynn began to close the distance. He didn’t rush, each step measured and deliberate—acutely aware of how many eyes were watching.

Pausing in front of the female Lunarian guard, he drew the iron cell key from his pocket and offered it back to her. “Thank you, Daphne.” He said, voice low and sincere.

Daphne took the key with a polite nod and a small smile, maybe not perfect decorum but she was respectful and a surprise in her violet eyes as he remembered her name, a Lunarian no less? Returning it to her pocket she realized she had to guard the fool still and … return to the room, the lack of her magic. It was unsettling. Thank you my Prince, Princess Amaya is fine, I gave her a snack but I humbly recommend a hot meal to help with the ill effect of the jail on the less experienced , it is unsettling even to me.”

Flynn gave a short nod of acknowledgement, noting the care in her tone. A faint smile ghosted across his lips as his eyes glanced toward Amaya, then faded just as quickly.

Daphne hoped she did not cross a line but she thought whatever it was, something had affected the woman and she felt responsible for her care even if only temporarily. She gave Amaya a nod, no reason to really need to be involved in court stuff, she had no baseline for perception of the Princess like this.

”A good day to you, Any additional orders to the Prisoner?” She added the last bit a little more formally and gave him a Cadian salute putting her fist to her breastplate.

Daphne really hoped she had not crossed a line but concern had won, plus she was needing clarification of the details of the man's confinement.

“The prisoner does not deny his regicidal aspirations against the Aurelian crown. But there are no new orders, for now. He is to remain in his cell.”

Daphne just nodded at the unchanged situation, they were stuck baby sitting the man with too much talk for his own good. Regicide was serious but he really felt more foolish and serious? How was he going to upend two Kingdoms, alone?

So they would have to keep him locked up, that was not good but not terrible. Maybe a migraine.

Continuing forward, Flynn set his gaze on Amaya once more. He wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, but the air felt sharper—colder with every step towards her. He studied her expression intently in the brief seconds it took to reach her. She looked… calm. But still. Too still.

She didn’t lean into him. Didn’t reach with her cold, empty hand for his warmth. She didn’t acknowledge him at all, in fact, even as he burned at the edge of her senses, commanding her attention. Instead, Amaya kept her careful distance from Flynn and the flame he held beneath his skin. It brushed against her careful control, her struggling walls as she tried to contain herself.

Standing beside her, Flynn turned toward the group. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he said, his attention lingering on the man. “May I ask your name?”

”Your highness” Aliseth quickly offered with a stiff bow. There was a slight delay as he pulled his nervous gaze off the princess. He had seen her powers before and was still now weary of them, and he wasn't afraid to let it show either.

Answering the prince he continued, ”I am knight Kain, Seluna’s blade-sworn protector of her high grace, the princess of Lunaris, and eternal servant of the moon's divine will. Second regiment.”

Kain. It sank into Amaya like a splinter embedding itself in an open wound. This was how she learned the guard’s name. Ice crawled over it, sealing it within her.

He spoke with all the etiquette one would expect when addressing the highest authority around for over a thousand miles, yet still, in a way only he could muster, he pronounced the prince’s title like it held less status than a lowly latrine boy.
Of course, there was no evidence of such things.

Not letting a pause fill the frigid air he quickly adds, explaining himself.
“I am here to join in guard rotation and assist with regular town duties for a time. My first post is the prison. I was not aware royalty were… in the area.”

”Knight Kain seems we are working together then, Squire Daphne, im part of my lords household and retinue. Formerly of Capital Veteran Lance Company.” She said politely offering an introduction to fill in the blanks in a quiet spot when appropriate.

He seemed decent, so she showed him the respect he had earned, which was a fair amount. He seemed a good egg and she had been taught to trust her feelings and her instincts. Though her rank was not the highest, duty had forced her into service far sooner than some and the insuring chaos of the endless Knight meant the “Knight in training” already had been deployed before she could even serve her time in court.

“He was there yesterday,” came Amaya’s soft voice, carried by wisps of fog. The storm of her magic swirled, wild and restless inside her at the memory. Flynn’s warmth pulled at her, but still Amaya kept herself in place. She couldn’t afford to melt, to fracture, to weaken her grip. Unseen, tiny crystals crept from her nails and into the crescent moons she was cutting into her own palm. She couldn’t use her pain to anchor herself anymore — it was swallowed by the numbing cold. “I owe him a great deal.”

Flynn raised a brow, casting a brief glance toward Amaya before returning his attention to the Knight. Ordinarily, he would’ve offered his gratitude without hesitation. Kain had risked his life to protect her. Royal Guards were sworn to do so, but these days, their oaths were so rarely tested. And even more rarely fulfilled.

Kain had proven himself a more dedicated soldier than most. For that, Flynn would be eternally grateful.
And yet…

He could feel the frigid wall that Amaya was building between them.
Something was off.

“I—”

“You owe me nothing, your highness.” Aliseth interrupted, turning to face her and squaring himself up as he started undoing his right gauntlet. Then, he brought himself to kneel before her. “You are the divine grace, by birthright and Seluna’s blessing. I would gladly sacrifice a thousand lifetimes to your service. There is no greater honour you can give than to allow me to pledge my services once again.” Head bowed, he spoke with a renewed vigour, reaching out his bare hand open and upturned inviting hers so she might take it. Flakes of snow soon settling in his open palm. An eager pledge sitting on his lips.

Flynn’s gaze lingered on Kain—green eyes steady, quietly assessing the display.

Daphne was tense as all manner of things went on, pledges, history, jeez? What kind of situation has she found herself in the middle of again as she stood near the princess, easier but still alert and fully able to react. She could not help but watch awkwardly as pledges, oaths and ceremonies broke out in the middle of a clearing next to a half built jail… like really was this normal? Was this even legal?

He was on light duties and now a household Guard, was that not the opposite of that? This was just plain strange?

Shifting slightly, Flynn lifted his gaze to Amaya. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes searched hers, waiting to see how she’d respond—hoping she’d look at him at last.
Just for a moment. To give him something. Anything.
Long enough to understand what might be wrong.
To know if she was okay.

She moved away from him. But just before she stepped away, before she left the warm shadow he — a brush of her icy hand against Flynn’s, for the briefest moment.

He stilled at the contact. His hand twitched at his side—a reflex to reach for her, to stop her retreat—but he forced it still. His gaze dropped briefly to her hand, then lifted to her face, doing everything he could to keep the worry from showing.

Stepping forward, Amaya didn’t let herself look away from the guard — didn’t let herself turn to Flynn and his steadiness, or catch the eye of Daphne, who’d offered nothing but openness and care. She felt the loss of them immediately, the vast emptiness that surrounded her, as her magic surged and strained against the boundaries that made her with each step. The falling snow tilted in the air after her. Amaya moved slowly — carefully — until she stood before Knight Kain.

She was struck, for a moment, by the image they made — a Princess and her Knight, kneeling in the snow. She could feel the weight of every gaze that fell against her skin like a brand. Amaya thought that perhaps she could hear every heart that still beat surrounding her, fragile things too easily silenced.

Too easily stilled.

Her breaths came out in quiet, shallow puffs, as though she were afraid of breathing too deeply, displacing too much air. Amaya looked down at his hand, snowflakes collecting in his open palm. They didn’t melt.

Amaya couldn’t feel her own hands beyond the blistering cold and the pain it lanced through her. They were frozen in place. A twitch of her fingers was like fracturing a layer of ice, a layer of skin and muscle down to her bone, and she broke herself apart to lift a hand. It shook with cold.

She flicked her eyes away from the knight, finally, briefly to look down at where her palm was turned in towards her. Ice crystals bloomed from the center of her hand, delicate geometry following the curves of her frigid palm. The cold sapped the color and warmth from her skin — the tips of her fingers were ashen, the blood drained near completely.

And there, in the middle of the icy stain, were a series of crescents cut into her palm, dotted red with frozen crystals of blood. It was as though her magic had leaked through the opening she’d cut into herself — or perhaps had flooded the wound to try and seal it shut.

Amaya looked back to Knight Kain’s open palm. Her heart pounded in time with her restless magic as the air only grew colder.

“This is a grave thing you would pledge,” she murmured as she cast her gaze to his bowed head. The air shaped itself around her words as she looked at the knight and his open hand, still waiting. “Sacrifice… death.”

Lives.

Amaya thought of Sir Abel, and the unnamed corpse that lay beside him in the temple.
She thought of her mother, long cast out to sea.
She thought of Daphne and what she’d shared — long dead meat, and stories of a people falling to ruin.

All that was lost. All that she could not lose.

All the souls she couldn’t count, desperate to survive this endless night.
Elara, gentle and full of light hidden behind her careful shadows.
Flynn… Flynn who carried the weight of the dawn on his back.

A fractured whisper slipped out of her, more honest than she’d meant to be.

“I do not want it.”

Ice strained against her control as she fought to keep her expression even. The frost blossomed ever further on her hand. Heat burned behind her eyes.

Amaya pressed her lips together for a moment, hand painfully curling inward at her chest.

One heartbeat. Two. Then Amaya forced herself to move again.

Reaching with shaking fingers, clumsy with cold, Amaya pulled a silk handkerchief out of her sleeve. Careful to not bloody it, she traced the familiar patterns of gold and indigo with her eyes. Her heart clenched.

It’d been a gift from Elara.

Amaya placed it gently in the knight’s waiting hand. She kept her touch away from him, her trembling fingers and creeping cold. The silk shined in the silver moonlight and flickering torches, a royal favor that draped over his palm like the black mourning cloth that now covered Sir Abel.

Then she drew back.

“Rise, Knight Kain,” she said, backing up a step. “Rise as a member of my personal guard, if I am worthy of your service.” Amaya secured her mask more firmly in place, the weight of the moment — of all the lives surrounding them — pressing into her.

“If life is more worthy a pursuit than noble death.”

He did not rise… not immediately anyway. Instead staying down on his knee, in the snow, staring in horror at the piece of fabric where he expected to find a hand instead. ‘are we so far beneath you that you can't even bare our touch …’
The gesture struck him near speechless.
“Th.” “Thankyou. Your grace.”
He finally stammered as he came to stand, but he could not bring himself to look her in the eyes, afraid she might see the thoughts that dwell on his mind.
“Now, if I may take my leave, I shall return to my designated duty.”
His voice was weak, his eyes scanned around for Daphne and then the prison door.

His intent to leave was made clear but he didn't move without permission. Tucking the royal gift -still unsure what to do with it-up his sleeve and holding his gauntlet under his other arm.

A long billow of fog passed her lips as something loosened its hold around her heart — but it didn’t ease its dizzying pace.

“You may,” she breathed out, her nerves buzzing. Another trembling exhale. “I will speak with Commander Volkov about your new assignment.” Her eyes flickered down, lingering on the corner of the handkerchief sticking roughly out of his sleeve. And just below that, his ungloved hand, fingers loose and bare. Her own hands curled around each other again, stiff and painful from her own frigid magic.

Amaya took another step back, out of the knight’s path and into the halo of Flynn’s warmth. The falling snow tugged after her.

She still didn’t look at him. And it bothered him more than he’d admit.

“Thank you for your service, Knight Kain.”

Before Aliseth could turn away, Flynn’s voice cut cleanly through the air.

“Knight Kain.”
He held the man’s gaze.
“For what you did—you have my deepest gratitude.”

A brief pause.

“Dawnhaven is honored to count you among its elite. And I owe you more than words can repay.”

Amaya’s throat tightened as she held herself still, his words ringing deep within her.

Whatever tension lingered in the air, whatever fracture had begun to form, Flynn would not let such loyalty go unacknowledged.

“If there’s anything you require here, anything within my power to meet… you need only ask.”

With that, Flynn gave a respectful dip of his head—the kind of gesture few received from an Aurelian royal.

“Thank you for your service.”

”Congratuations Knight Kain, if all is done Your majesties, i shall hand over to your escort, and please my Princess please take care after that place….” Surprised ice blue eyes found her, finally pulled away from the knight. She said the last words with a grimace, the magical effect was unnerving and honestly felt like part of her own self was missing. Daphne did not relish having to enter that place. She added that directly to the Princess, concerned she could not hide and mask.”Its not a weakness. Just … takes time to restore your whole.." She added, it was no shame, to be pulled from something part of you was difficult. Amaya was not weak for what Daphne perceived and understood as being affected by the jail. Daphne wanted to throw up for the first time.

Amaya blinked, something in her guarded gaze shifting… almost softening. She held Daphne’s eyes for a breath. Then she gave a small nod, turning her attention back to the newest member of her guard.

Aliseth took his full height and stood like a proud royal guard. He gave the prince and princess the customary salute, a faint glimmer of gratitude in his eyes as they briefly connected with Flynn's.

“I wish only to serve.” He replied humbly. Ready to leave, he paused mid step, face filled with hesitation. It was clear he wanted to speak but was unsure if he should. Finally the internal conflict came to an end as boldness won out, with a forced confidence he added.
“Actually, there may be something... Your grace.” He says thoughtfully. “A means so I may better serve. Such things can be discussed at a time more to your convenience and comfort though.”
With that he gave a deep bow and quickly moved on.

“Of course,” Flynn said, nodding in solemn acknowledgement. “I’ll send for you. We’ll speak of it soon.”

He let the words settle, watching Aliseth as he made his way toward the jail entrance.

“Squire Daphne,” He turned, meeting her uniquely violet eyes with a warmer expression. “thank you for your service over the past two days as well—and for your care that goes beyond mere duty.” A faint smile of gratitude followed, brief but sincere. “You carry your position with honor.”

Another nod—this one granting permission to go and return to her post with Aliseth.

Then, Flynn turned his gaze back to Amaya, the flicker of warmth in his eyes already darkened by concern.

She held herself still as winter, bare wisps of fog signaling every shallow breath. Her hands still shook — the ice still stole any warmth from her skin, leaving only a piercing, aching numbness. Flynn was a beacon of golden heat beside her, threatening to thaw every invaluable layer of her walls. She couldn’t lose them — not yet.

Amaya desperately fought to hold herself together beneath the eyes of the surrounding guards. She listened to the crunch of footsteps, out of sync with the pounding rhythm of her heart, as Daphne and Kain walked back into the prison — beyond the wards.

The iron hinges slid against each other as wood slid once more against the slurry of mud and snow on the ground. And when the door slid shut, the sound reverberated through Amaya like the first tremors on a mountainside before an avalanche.

@Dezuel@PrinceAlexus

Aliseth

---

Town Jail

---

His armor scuffed and heavy boots clicked with every step across the hard prison floor. His shoulders slouched and posture slackened with every pace further away from the prince and princess.
His demeanour transformed, rigidity and royal etiquette vanishing with every stride towards the iron cell.

A faint shiver ran up his spine causing an involuntary wriggle as the effects of passing the threshold grabbed him. The anti-magic enchantment making itself known, but Aliseth was a warrior not a mage.

"Well well well, who do we have in here?" He chimes aloud, an amused curious grin on his face and in his voice. He made no attempt to put his removed gauntlet back on, instead disposing of it on a nearby table as he casually passed.

It was his first time in the prison but already he moved as if he owned the place. Acting with all the confidence and comfortability one might have in their own home. His eyes took in the room, the walls, the broken cracker on the floor, the furnishings, the roof, the cell and finally... the prisoner.

'Tap' 'tap' 'tap' He starts to pace along the cage, bare fingers gently slapping along the bars.
"Tell me, what sort of crime grants a criminal an audience with the prince? Or is it not the status of the crime but the criminal?" He inquires playfully.