[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZPETHbP.png[/img] Collab between [@The Muse] and [@c3p-0h] [sub]Location: Outside the Jail[/sub] [i][h1]Part I[/h1][/i] [hr][/center] Footsteps and the clatter of armor filled the air as the Aurelian knights began to shift—no longer keeping careful watch over every movement Daphne and Aliseth made. They returned to their horses, giving Amaya and Flynn a small bit of space, falling back just enough to allow a semblance of privacy. Flynn’s gaze lingered on Amaya—her trembling hands, the way her eyes were still fixed on the prison door, the flurry of snowflakes that pulled inward around her body. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out. His fingers brushed lightly against hers, unflinching against her icy numbness—an invitation, if she would take it. Her fingers curled sharply away from him as she gasped in a silent breath. [color=337d71]“Amaya,”[/color] he said softly, his voice low enough to keep the question between them, [color=337d71]“what’s wrong?”[/color] It was enough to send cracks running along the tenuous control she held over herself. Her magic surged, throwing itself against her borders, the storm tumbling over itself and rolling in at last. She couldn’t feel her hands beyond the painful chill that seeped into her very bones — but she knew the ice, that arctic flower blooming from the cuts she’d gouged into her own palm, was growing. Her eyes snapped shut. Amaya tried to cut herself off from the world — from the storm that raged, and the memory of blood misting through the air, and those dark [i]eyes.[/i] His hollow expression as he measured all the ways she’d failed. His voice gently holding Elara’s name. His open palm. Amaya tried to breathe, but could only manage another small gasp. The sound shattered in her throat and she clamped her mouth shut like she could keep it from escaping. She was shaking. She couldn’t stop [i]shaking[/i]. It came from somewhere inside her, deeper than the cold, more chilling, as it sent tremors from her frigid hands, up her arms, to her shoulders, claiming her lungs and heart and spine like conquered territory. She shook her head, a pathetic, stubborn refusal — of Flynn, of the raging force of her magic, of — [i]My snow dove…[/i] [color=d15e5e]“I —”[/color] She was cut off by the shards of her own breath, too quick, too shallow. Her frozen hand snapped over her mouth, the ice sending a shock of cold through her that pierced through the growing haze of her emotions. A flash of pain struck through Flynn’s heart at the sound of her. It splintered through his chest, shot down his spine, and severed the last thread of hesitation that had been holding him at bay. Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. One arm curved protectively around her back, the other gently cradled the back of her head. She stiffened in his hold. Her cold bled through his layered clothing like water through cloth, but he didn’t flinch. [color=337d71]“It’s okay…”[/color] he murmured, watching the pale fog of his breath drift in the air above her. [color=337d71]“Just breathe…”[/color] Fractured and crumbling, Amaya felt the deafening [i]crack[/i] in her composure as his voice rumbled through her. His arms were too solid around her, made her too small, he was too [i]close —[/i] Icy hands snapped up to push him away. Amaya couldn’t be held together — couldn’t [i]breathe[/i] and be [i]warmed.[/i] She’d be devoured by her own blizzard if she tried to contain this. She wanted — she [i]needed[/i] — to turn her own walls to rubble and bury the boulders and dust in a cloud of snow and hail. She needed to expand, and disperse this raging energy so it didn’t sit so heavy and dense in her bones, threatening to freeze her solid every time she tried to move. She needed to cover the world in ice. No, not the world. Just one man. [color=d15e5e]“Don’t [i]touch[/i] me,”[/color] she hissed, as she tried to create distance. But her voice was frail. It tripped over her breath, which only grew quicker and more shallow. Another high pitch gasp tore through her. Amaya clenched her jaw tight, squeezing her eyes shut as she curled her arms around herself. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye, freezing in place before it could even finish cresting her cheek. Flynn froze, stiffening around her. For a moment, he didn’t move. His heart felt impossibly heavy, his chest suddenly hollow. His breath came slow and shallow, as if breathing too deeply might open a wound. Then, slowly, he loosened his arms and took a step away. He said nothing. His throat was tight, the weight sitting on his chest too suffocating. But something solid slid into place—quiet, instinctive—hardening over his heart. He stood tall, squared his shoulders, and buried ice-singed hands into his coat pockets. His gaze flicked over her, taking in the way she held herself—frost clinging to the edges of her sleeves, trails of ice in place of tears, entire body trembling. Completely collapsing in on herself. Alone. His attention lifted back to her face. Searching. Waiting. Amaya felt the loss of him immediately, the chill rushing in to fill his cavernous absence. It bit and snapped through her body like a wild thing, forcing clarity everywhere it struck. Curling into herself, she winced at the pain stealing the breath from her body. Her magic wasn’t an indistinct storm, an intangible wall of white. It was sharp and cutting as a blade, precise as it sharpened itself around her — Made her solid. Another tear tumbled over the frozen track on her face, hardening into jagged crystals as it reached her chin. [color=d15e5e]“He —”[/color] she breathed out, but it barely met the air. Images flashed in her mind. The blight-born’s haunted face. Sir Abel’s mangled corpse. Elara, terrified and desperate. That open palm again, held out to her — snowflakes unmelting as they landed against cold skin. [color=d15e5e]“It was him.”[/color] Amaya’s eyes opened. Snow cut across her vision, flakes frantically pulling through the air. Tear stained, barely holding herself together against the force of her own magic, Amaya finally allowed herself to look at Flynn for the first time since he’d exited the prison. There was another shock of pain when she saw how far away he was, the guarded way he looked at her. His green eyes sent another tremorous [i]crack[/i] down her walls. [i]This[/i] was why she hadn’t been able to look at him before. He splintered her control with a glance, with warm hands and a low voice against her ear. Amaya felt any attempts to hide herself falling away beneath his tense, watchful stare. But this time it wasn’t grief she laid bare, or fear, or regret. It was rage. [color=d15e5e]“The attack.”[/color] She didn’t know if her voice trembled with anger or the cold. They felt the same. [color=d15e5e]“It was him.”[/color] Flynn held her gaze, absorbing the torrent of emotion he’d never seen reflected in her eyes before. Yet he recognized it all the same. The glass he’d once imagined her made of—beautiful, fragile, and delicate—had cracked. And he’d stood too close when she'd shattered. She wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t delicate. She was colder. Harder. She was ice—so frigid it seared. A breakable thing that had honed itself into a weapon. A fury so sharp it threatened to carve her from the inside out. Far from something to hold—or comfort. Far from something he could protect. His brows drew together, confusion etching itself plainly across his face. [color=337d71]“Who?”[/color] he asked, voice firm. [color=337d71]“Kain?”[/color] His gaze flicked past her, settling on the prison door. Part of him tried to follow the thread of her meaning. Part of him just needed to look away. Bit by bit, her stare chipped at the protective steel that had silently slid into place around him. He thought of Aliseth. The reverence in his voice. His bowed head. The vow he’d made. He thought of the morning he’d left Amaya in his and Abel’s care—trusted them with her safety. If Aliseth had been a part of the attack… Then this had been a betrayal from the start. Something struck the steel in his chest. A sharp heat bloomed behind his ribs. An ember caught flame, burning against a wall of collected control. [color=337d71]“What do you mean?”[/color] he asked, voice still quiet, but no longer gentle. Devoid of the tenderness he so often gave her, he looked at her again—straight into the storm—and braced. [color=d15e5e]“That wasn’t Kain. It was an imposter.”[/color] Her voice was low as memories flashed through her. The same way hollow shadows carved themselves into his face the longer the conversation went on. How he veered wildly between derision and saccharine flattery. What he’d [i]called her.[/i] But most damning of all… [color=d15e5e]“He tried to use psychic magic on me again.”[/color] He’d been arrogant enough to try it, and [i]careless[/i] enough to do it poorly. Amaya knew the disorienting pull of his magic — it perhaps would’ve worked, if he hadn’t tried to use Elara to manipulate her, assumed he would want Elara behind her instead of [i]beside[/i] her, filling her with doubts and insecurities that Amaya would have no voice or knowledge in her friend’s protection. But [i]Amaya[/i] had been the one to tell Flynn that Elara needed to be guarded. Elara’s safety had been Amaya’s concern for [i]ten years,[/i] from the moment they’d met, the bruises around her neck barely healed. All Amaya had been able to smell was blood in the air, and all she could see was crimson against white. That the blight-born would threaten Elara, dare to [i]say her name[/i] to Amaya as he tried to manipulate her, just as her father had, while countless nobles and servants and guards like [i]Sir Abel[/i] watched and did nothing… Sir Abel who’d died screaming and bloody as he tried to protect her. Amaya remembered the shape of his corpse on the table, the hate and grief that’d mixed so potently as she’d given him a piece of her mother — the only source of softness and warmth in Amaya’s childhood, now another corpse. Her magic surged, ice spreading over the muddy path around her, a lifetime of anguish folding in on itself, intensifying into something destructive. [color=d15e5e]“He would’ve used blood magic if I’d let him touch me.”[/color] Amaya took a step towards the prison, ice blooming around her step as she remembered the sheer [i]hubris[/i] of that open palm held out to her, like she was his to claim. Flynn swiftly fell into step behind her, a hand snapping out to catch her forearm—rooting her firmly in place. His touch burned, even through the fabric of her sleeve, a searing heat that pulled her back into her body. [color=337d71]“Stop.”[/color] The word cut sharp through the air. He held her for a breath, then released her, the words she’d aimed at him still resonating in the back of his mind. [color=337d71]“You’re throwing yourself into danger. Again.”[/color] Amaya spun in place, ready to snap that she’d been in danger her [i]entire life,[/i] while he’d been attending meetings and playing with swords and galavanting with [i]Nyla.[/i] But the words froze in her throat when she was again faced with him, and the distant way he looked at her. His eyes locked onto hers—glittering, pale blue pools of rage that flooded his lungs and threatened to suffocate every sense. Dizzying. Intoxicating. Dangerous. The fury that lay there was no longer abstract. It was justified. And if that hadn’t been Aliseth… Then the true Knight was still missing—or already dead. An image flashed in his mind: the mangled, unnamed corpse laid beside Sir Abel. Something sharp tightened around his heart, as if part of him already knew the truth. Behind him, he heard the guards quietly moving to attention—all of them watching, waiting. [color=337d71]“You’re sure?”[/color] he asked, voice quiet. It wasn’t disbelief. It was confirmation. A mistake like this could never be undone. They [i]had[/i] to be certain. Her gaze, full of fury and ice and every emotion she could never bear to stomach, didnt waver. Beneath his boots, he felt the ground shift as her ice spiderwebbed outward, spiraling and connecting new branches of frost throughout the courtyard. Unbridled power, pulsing straight through the frozen earth. [color=337d71]“He’ll be weaker in there—but not like us.”[/color] Flynn shook his head and gestured to the prison, gaze briefly flicking to the door before returning to her. [color=337d71]“He won’t lose all his strength, or his power. Not right away.”[/color] He could still hear the tortured screams of blight-born echoing down brightly-lit stone halls. The shuffling feet of Sages as they wandered from cell to cell in a maze beneath the palace. The scribble of pencil on paper as they watched—cataloging each new reaction. Flynn had never wanted to apply the knowledge he’d gained there. But he couldn’t help but be grateful for it now. [color=337d71]“Let him think he’s fooled you, for now. He’s cornered himself.”[/color] Flynn pulled his gaze away from hers, air returning to his lungs as he settled on the prison door once more. [color=337d71]“We need a plan.”[/color] He paused, then took a step to the side—attention shifting to the guards. [color=337d71]“And more light-magic users.”[/color] [color=d15e5e]“No,”[/color] she whispered, voice small and sharp as a dagger, [color=d15e5e]“we don’t.”[/color] They didn’t need more people at risk, more grief and blood and bodies. She took a step towards Flynn, like a moth helplessly pulled by a burning flame, even as the ice crawled ever closer to the prison behind her. It claimed more and more of the landscape in search of something to consume — something to spend itself on, after days and months and [i]years[/i] of being contained. The snow fell harsh around them, a growing flurry that she barely seemed to notice. Frost claimed her just as it did everything else, creeping up the skin of her wrists. [color=d15e5e]“If he thinks he can threaten me again,”[/color] — threaten Elara, manipulate her, [i]murder[/i] her people — [color=d15e5e]“let him try it.”[/color] Let him bleed her, let him cut through layers of flesh and ice, let him [i]kill her[/i] if it meant she could finally spend this frigid rage. Flynn returned his attention to her, a chill slowly trailing down his spine as he held her gaze. And stared. Utterly silent. Expressionless. The steel that had wrapped itself around him cinched tighter. Another layer. This one familiar—this one chosen. A conscious shift, locking down against an endless void of anger. His gaze drifted over her slowly, deliberately taking his time, letting the silence stretch. Her eyes—darker than they’d been that morning, when she’d looked up at him from the space between him and the couch. Her lips—cold and purpled. Once warm and pliant against his. Her jaw—streaked with frost, ice crystals glinting faintly. Her neck, her collarbone—places he’d once wanted to bury himself in, drifting his lips along her skin. Her waist—where his arms had wrapped warmth around her the night before. Her legs—the ones she’d laced between his sometime in their sleep. Her feet—stepping toward him now, like a threat. And finally, the frost that snaked out from her boots in every direction—ice solid beneath her. He didn’t know her at all. And yet, he knew her all too well. His green eyes lifted to meet hers again—the warmth of the southern sea meeting the unyielding arctic. [color=337d71]“And you intend… to do what?”[/color] His voice came quiet. Eerily calm, despite turbulent waves crashing violently inside his chest. [color=337d71]“Kill him?”[/color] The question landed like a blow, splintering the hardened core of ice that’d been growing within her. Stray shards flashed in the fury of her eyes — doubt. Hesitation. Fear. Through the storm, Amaya glimpsed the haunting, inevitable [i]reality[/i] of what she was threatening. Death. Not just abstract destruction and vengeance, but [i]blood.[/i] Bones and viscera. Ice on the ground and the scent of iron in the air. And her hands the cause of it. Blinking, Amaya refocused on Flynn, and it was like seeing him for the first time. Calm. Unflinching. No sharp edges in his eyes for Amaya to cut herself against — that used to infuriate her. Something built in her throat like a scream. Or a sob. Amaya was suddenly aware of how very cold she was. The ice burned against her skin and she felt like she could barely move. She thought she might freeze herself solid right here, if only to give her wild magic something to finally devour. [color=d15e5e]“My entire life,”[/color] she whispered, her voice shredding itself on the broken pieces that’d lodged in her throat, [color=d15e5e]“I lived at the whims of a man like him.”[/color] Cruel. Vicious. Arrogant. Determined to make Amaya pay for every slight, with blood and despair. [color=d15e5e]“I was trapped. Tormented.”[/color] A fresh tear spilled out of her, burning an icy track down her skin. Amaya traced the pain of it as she held Flynn’s gaze. [color=d15e5e]“And everyone else — people like Volkov, and the Priestess, and Sir Abel — they watched.”[/color] Pain bled into the anger, the burning bite of betrayal she felt at everyone who’d let her carry the weight of Jericho’s cruelty so that they might be spared from it. [color=d15e5e]“They [i]helped![/i]”[/color] Amaya’s voice broke on the accusation, damning the complicit, the enablers, who had allowed her to turn into this icy, desperate storm. She’d never said the words out loud before. Had never spoken the harsh, painful reality of her life into the air, never made it real and solid. It was another blade piercing her, sending waves of pain through her frigid body. Tears slid down her face now, unending. Amaya looked at Flynn — so distant and calm and cold that it broke her heart. She was alone in the center of her own storm, ice layering over her skin like her walls she’d so desperately clung to. [color=d15e5e]“I can’t live like that again, Flynn.”[/color] His name was another shard of glass in her throat. [color=d15e5e]“He cannot have me.”[/color] Each shattered piece of her lodged into him. Every word she spoke cut deep—slicing into the layers he’d tried to use to numb and temper himself with. Like she’d always belonged there, beneath it all. Though his body didn’t betray it, his soul reeled at the thought of all she’d endured. He detested every man and woman that had contributed to her suffering. He’d known her life had been cruel, but hearing the anguish in her voice sent fractures rippling through his chest. He wanted to reach for her and— [i]Want.[/i] Always wanting. [i][center][sub]… and wanting[/sub][/center] [right][sub][sub]… and wanting[/sub][/sub][/right][/i] He didn’t move. The frost creeping over his boots, claiming the edges of his clothing, went unnoticed. Her overwhelming grief bled into him as he held her gaze—steady, aching with sympathy and sorrow for everything he knew he could never fix. He couldn’t move. His chest was still too heavy. His emotions, too tightly contained. Stacking quietly behind a dam he’d built long ago. He was stone against the storm. Carefully distant, trying to avoid the path of destruction. Trying not to become its next casualty. When he finally spoke, his voice was curt. Not cold. But firm. And honest. [color=337d71]“Then kill him.”[/color] She flinched. Pain twisted behind his eyes. [color=337d71]“If that’s what it takes.”[/color] His jaw tightened, breath fogging in the air between them. [color=337d71]“Then do it.”[/color] It wasn’t permission. She didn’t need it. It wasn’t condoning, either. But he wouldn’t stop her. After so much had been taken from her, all he could offer was choice. Power. Control. An offering to not stand in her way of justice. That he would not become another name on her long list of bystanders, captors, betrayers and tormentors. He let the silence stretch just long enough for the words to settle. Then, more quietly— [color=337d71]“You don’t have to become like him to stop him, Amaya.”[/color] His throat tightened, but his voice held strong. He’d been fighting that same shadow for most of his life. [color=337d71]“He won’t have you.”[/color] His eyes searched hers—softening. Shards of her fractured heart caught the moonlight in the pale blue of her gaze. [color=337d71]“No one will.”[/color] It wasn’t meant for comfort. It was fact. A vow. A promise. A future he’d dared to believe in. [color=337d71]“You never have to live like that again. Not while I’m alive.”[/color]