Camp Explorer Guards n girlfriends Daphne and Coswain
Daphne smiled when she remembered Katherine from the hospital bay, she had turned up and took her being silly easily and just handed her water and helped care for the squire. Her comment about the helmet yeah but all that was kinda fuzzy like she was drunk and parts of it were not remembered. Her memory did not fully stabilise for a couple of days, Daphne had really hit her head in the attack that was for sure.
The fact she even had worked out how to make a skull mug was kinda weird? She spent her time working out how to make Katherine a skull mug? This was a weird thing, she definitely cared for Katherine in a way that was kinda comforting but also confusing how to work it out.
It was after Daphne got out when they had a mission out into the wolds and to the blight lands. Technically Daphne volunteered but after finding out her Lord, Girlfriend and other Lunarians had Volunteered. Much as she really did not want to ever go to that area, she joined on.
Honestly for a Lunarian the trip was not the worst, she had definitely been on colder ones ans the land was fairly easy going for a start with no major delays.
Lord Coswain rode along the side kicking his mount to jump as the older soldier took his turn on the flank of the convoy, he was an experienced rider and the Lord Castelian had plenty of time in the saddle on missions. They had a number of experienced guards, champions and so on with them. He did worry for Dawn Haven with how much their capacity in guards, sages and more they had drawn onto this one venture.
This had the elite of several groups present and left their home, or what had become home where his partner and everyone else's friends etc still lived.
He had to smile even to himself, Daphne bags ended up in Katherine's tent more than they did not… he decided to leave it be, no one else seemed to worry they held hands or could be found quietly talking by the fire on evenings rather close sharing blankets.
Now leaving Persephone had been difficult and they shared a rather tender but private departure, after so long apart they had got used to the idea of a little stability and it was uprooted by this venture. He had measured her multiple times he would be utterly careful, Daphne he trusted with his life and the Lunarian guards were young but steady. The sun shaggers might be reliable but he would trust his fellow lunarians first.
He scanned the distance as he paused his patrol, letting his thoughts turn back to the job. He saw no threats bar some movement in the far distance that headed away from them, they already had killed some blight animals but others had been unwilling to go near the light of fires and noise of people too. Fire was a strong protector out here, bright tall flames drive light and heat, a Athema to the cursed reborn blight kin and life.
The uneventful trip was fine by Lord Coswain, they had made good time. They were on track.
…
Daphne dropped her bag into Katherine's tent on her rounds, was it a little forward…yeah, did Daphne just like having someone to cuddle at night in this dead wasteland. Yes. 100% yes. Daphne joined Katherine and snuggled up spooning her at night and seemed like it could be a thing. That fuzzy, strange feeling this generated was… weird but Daphne did not want it to end.
Daphne did not apologise for her relationship but did not have to tell people, what the hell. The land was under an endless night? She would cuddle a blonde priestess.
…
Lord Coswain was tending to his mount, shaggy with a thick insulating coat and the large wide feet of a Launarian breed that had long adapted to a life of winter, snow, ice with a rugged and while less sneak built to ensure harsh conditions. “Easy, easy… Come on” He said as he carefully checked his mounts, feet and legs for any injury under the canvas and leather wraps that he had added to protect against harm from rocks or sharp ruins etc. It might not stop everything but some protection was better than none.
Giving the large Beasts head a scratch in thanks as he went round caring for his mount. It was simply put. His life. He could live or die by this horse so he took the kindest of care for it.
In this situation his horse came before his meal and comfort. It was better to be hungry than dead.
He wound his way back eventually to the fire after doing his tasks, dropping as he reminded Daphne in passing to not forget her helmet again. Daphne had been … suggested to wear one by Katherine and it seemed to have stuck. The rest seemed to be handling the trip well so far but as he said, this was not even hard going by Lunarian standards, this was not even too cold yet. It would get far far worse if the snows turned on them.
Still be prepared. Careful. It caught you when you stopped looking and respecting it.
“Good Morning” He said looking at the endless night wondering the difference, it seemed to be more a … thing of perspective, the only person who seemed to be utterly certain was that snake tailed innkeeper and he was sure she saw the world in a rather different frame.
“Lady Hightower, I fixed it the best I could with what we have, keep checking it.” He handed her a somewhat crude, but repaired wrap to protect her horse's leg from the cold and some of the harsh and sharp dead plants that littered the land. “No need to rush this, this is a campaign not a single skirmish. Be careful, and listen, just listen first. Youl hear anything before you ever see it.” He said looking at the ruined town in the distance, it was the broken ruin of a town, a dark place where he just had a …bad feeling about. He hoped not to offend but he also wanted to see her come out of this intact and unharmed.
He meant well, he knew they wanted to rush, get answers and leave but this place had any number of dangers. He essentially not sure how much experience or training most had in this environment.
…
Daphne yawned from her end of patrol and hung her helmet off and stretched out, reaching to check her braid and make sure everything was where it was meant to be. “Nothing major, any animals keeping distance, few to the west, seem to leave us alone.” She gestured to the horizon where saw the movement and left to head to fire, dropping next to Katherine and kissed her cheek, not worried about showing her affection. “Hey kat, please tell me you have something hot, i know you are but I'd love some tea.” She said with a hopeful look and reached over to place a hand over hers. Daphne had a Helmet… it however hung off her waist next to her twin swords, a short warhammer and other gear she carried now. Better prepared than her normal Dawn Haven routine carry.
They had cross bows on the horses, bolts, blades and various things they had not carried for excess weight about the walled town.
Daphne looked up and waved to the others who were starting their day, Lords, Ladies, sages, guards and more. Maybe it was the purpose, the company or just having some kind of mission. Daphne felt oddly comfortable right now. "Call me insane, but im happy out here." Daphne mused as she sat warming her other hand and arm from the fires heat.
Anyone in earshot might think Launarians where abit crazy. Probbly yes.
The absence of the expedition party had done little to change the daily flow of the tavern. Beverages still flowed like water, the music was constant and the patrons ever present. Sure there had been a few changes in the regulars, and some of the guards he’d come to know had been replaced by less familiar faces, but ultimately it was the same Eye.
And in other good news, the bastard of a pirate seemed to have fucked off. At least for now.
Today he’d found himself in the company of a particularly bored looking guardswoman, the new recruit if his memory still served him well. She certainly looked the part; Her armor was shinier than most others’, her shield lay mostly untarnished, and she was definitely young. She’d come in not half an hour prior for a cup of tea and had been sitting in otherwise silence by the fire, slowly waking up by the looks of it.
“May I?” Aldrick gestured to the chair next to the recruit as he paced over, leaning his guitar up against the wall in the process.
Charlotte looked up from the steam wafting from her cup, meeting the blightborn’s golden eyes with her own in slight shock, before nodding her head once and returning her “Knock yourself out.”
A moment of silence stretched between the two, before she looked back towards Aldrick.
“You’re that bard, aren’t you?” Her eyes ran down his features, putting the pieces together slowly. It was tricky at first, given the new color to his complexion and clean shaven face, but the recognition dawned on her quickly. “It is you. You played in our tavern back home, The Last Drop, quite frequently if I recall.
Aldrick smiled and let out a quiet laugh, nodding gently. “The one and only. I remember that tavern well, you must’ve been the lass behind the counter then.” He looked up to the fire in thought, the memories flowing back into his mind. “You were much smaller back then.”
“And you didn’t have horns. Or red skin… or those eyes.”
“Still smart as a whip I see. Aldrick shot her a playful grin, a low chuckle following from behind closed lips.
The fire crackled through the silence between them that stretched for a few short minutes. The Eye was still quite empty at this hour of the morning, not terribly unusual as people went about their days.
“Would you play me something?” Charlotte asked, her voice quivering a bit as her nerves got the best of her.
“What did you have in mind, lass? Somethin’ happy? Sad?”
“No no. Nothing like that. It's too early for happy, and I don’t need sad right now” She paused in silent contemplation, her eyes wandering over Aldrick’s blighted features again, “How about something about the Blight? If that’s not offensive?”
Aldrick didn’t reply for a moment, his eyes fixed on Charlotte’s face as if it would hold an answer. He’d only written one new song since succumbing to the blight, and while it had been shockingly on topic for Charlotte’s request, it wasn’t one he’d ever played for anyone before. It was oddly personal, and perhaps a view on his… condition, that perhaps a few wouldn’t appreciate.
Eventually, he wordlessly nodded to the recruit before leaning to the side and grabbing his guitar from where he’d rested it.
“This is a song of the temptation… and borderline seduction that this plague can bring upon you.”
Honey, you should let me in Shining lights and pretty sins You hear that song beneath your skin
Darling, you should let 'em go A seat of gold and petty souls I'll be here, just let me know
You'd look so good in indigo Are you afraid of letting go? You'll come to find they'll say you're perfect as you are
But what's a little more? Just a little more Oh Just a little more
Maybe you should hear me out Let 'em sow their seeds of doubt But don't you wait for them to sprout
A hollow king, imprisoned minds You'd be safe if you were mine I just wanna see you shine
Can you hear the music now? Stay with me, just settle down You know, I think that you're just perfect as you are
What's a little more? Just a little more Oh Just a little more
You know, there's so much more to you They don't know you like I do They'd only try to keep you down
I know you could be so much more Just a little more You could be so much more Just a little more
Aldrick’s foot tapped a gentle beat on the wooden floor in time as his fingers strummed and plucked at the strings of his guitar. But there was something different in the tone of his voice. The expected deep tone with a coarse rasp was ever-present, but it was a different energy to his usual, happy and upbeat performances that normally filled these walls. Something about it was more raw, more personal than usual.
What’s a little more?
Everything about it was more personal. This was the very sentiment that played in his mind every day before the very people he performed for. A sickly sweet feeling, knowing that he was feeding from their very emotions but being twisted to believing it was a good thing. A feeling he loved and loathed in the same instant.
Just a little more…
He realized it in an instant. He was feeding on the recruit, the very same woman he’d seen behind the bar all those years ago. And yet he couldn’t help himself. The emotions he was feeling from her were infectious. She’d felt every word he’d sung with shocking accuracy, and yet her mind was completely at peace as she listened. As he ripped every bit of emotion from it.
Enough.
Aldrick played the last few notes of the song as he forced his mind away from Charlotte’s, the sugary taste of it fading from the tip of his tongue. He hated how much he loved how it felt.
Charlotte didn’t know what exactly, but something felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. A wave of fatigue had hit her halfway through the song and had been building since then. She’d been enjoying the song and then just… stopped. Now there was just emptiness, a void where there had previously been… she couldn’t place the word.
“I’m s-sorry. She clutched her head gently and stood from her chair, walking slowly towards the door, her skin paling a bit with every step. “The song was lovely, I’m just feeling unwell. Not sure what’s come over me.”
Aldrick watched her leave the building as a pit grew in his stomach. Normally he would have fed off of a crowd all at once, taking just a little bit from each person. But there had been no crowd, no other person to focus on.
The Alchemist tent was cold. Nathaniel's breath came out in small amounts of mist in his face. Still, it was better than outside. He paced around the tent. The cold wind relentlessly assaulted the tent like the tide on a sandy beach. A couple of candles lit the medium-sized tent that held work for all three sages. He checked over the notes that Eris and he had made. His gloved hands flipped the sheets of parchment.
A strong, frigid breeze came through the entrance, breaking the concentration of the Aurelian. "Shit, shit shit." he panicked. The ties that held the entrance flap had come undone. Even with gloves, the cold was merciless as he worked to tie the knot shut. After some fumbling, the flap was secure, and the room was sealed from the cold, but the wind kept its assault. Nathaniel let out a shivering sigh as he stood in darkness; the candles snuffed out, journals were opened, and parchments were scattered.
Nathaniel only relit one this time. Having to save the others for today's research. After the tents contain was more organised he went back to his task. "Vials, where did-" he paused the small crate that had most of the supplies, was missing a few things. It was then he spotted them across the tent, with a note underneath.
"Be sure to put these back here." -Eris.
Nathaniel grumbled at this remembering the first day of setting up the tent and bringing the supplies in that they'd need. There was a little, playful banter as he and Eris were continuing to move objects to where they would like it to go. A few times they moved the same object multiple times but couldn't think of a compromise as the peacekeeper Nesna decided to just let the two of the keep going.
Brushing that moment to one side for now while he focused moving the bag of empty vials. Three satchels were made with the equal amount of Vials and other equipment needed for the expedition today. Plants and Soil. We'd have to see if there's a difference between the two if they are gathered by a Blightborn or a Human. Then he remembered going into another crate he pulled out a secure box, inside was Vials and Vials of Willis's blood. This was crucial to today endeavours. He place as few in each satchel and slung one over each shoulder and carried the third in his hands.
Stepping outside the cold was worse, the snow came down in huge clumps. He turned securing the ties for the tent so it stays closed.
"Brr...It's fucking cold." A guard said to another as they walked past. "Lord Stormlight." The other said giving a small respectful bow. Which the other immediately did also. Nathaniel returned the gesture. "My lord. If you are looking for Lady Hightower and the others they are having conversations at them main campfire." A smile tugged on his lips. "Thank you. Be sure you two are ready for today." he said leaving the two. The two guards stood to attention even though they were shivering slightly.
"Yes sir." "Always Lord."
Walking closer and closer he could see that important people are about ready to have a discussion. Orion, Eris and Kat were there but Nesna wasn't there that Nathaniel could see neither Ivor. "Good morning." he said giving them all a bow of his head, the satchel gently tapping off one another. "I've packed the essentials for today." handing the bag he carried to Eris.
The light of the lantern filled the storage room, the soft steps of the boots coming down the ladder, the black long hair neatly tied up into a ponytail. The young woman's blue eyes searched amidst the various barrels, vine bottles and dried meat until her eyes finally landed on a figure walking out from behind one of the large vine stalls which housed the finest wines that a rich man like Ayel Raunefeldt could buy and brag about having. The figure moved out from it's hiding spot, the tanned man with his blond shoulderlong hair and ghostly blue eyes met with hers.
"You are quite the bold one, to harbor a man on the run. To some this would be the vilest of treason towards not only the Aurelian crown but to Dawnhaven aswell. Traits inherited by your parentage perhaps? I doubt your adopted brother would approve of such actions." The blond man said in a soft voice, his trademark smile forming on his lips as he approached the smaller noble woman.
"I simply do not want more blood spilt than what have already been spilt. I am just lending a hand to someone in need, if helping someone is a crime, then I am guilty as charged. My brother does not command me, my heart does. Prince Flynn would understand the meaning of staying true to oneself regardless how strong the wind may blow against you." She said softly, but in a proud manner as she put down the lantern on one of the barrels close to where she stood.
"You are something else..." The older man said with a chuckle as he traced his hand along one of the wine bottles in one of the racks, before picking it up. "I see your brother is fond of even some newer brands. This particular one is a fine year. The year you were born." He said softly, and slid the wine bottle back in it's place.
"The year I was born? How would you know that? You are from Aurelia aren't you? You called me Opal in the jail. Where did you learn my middle name?" The young noblewoman asked the warrior who stood before her in the dimly lit storage room.
"The ring you bear have that very stone, surrounding it are the symbols of fire, earth, water and wind. It symbolizes the fabled philosopher's stone, the magnus opus, the hidden formula to the elixir of life, to turn all other things into gold and cure all ills. The name was chosen by your mother, the ring... by your father." Gadez said in an almost ominous manner, his hair momentarily falling over his eyes, concealing them before he moved his head back, allowing his hair to fall away from his face.
"My mother? You knew my birth mother? Just who are you? Do you know where I can find my father? Is he still alive?" She stepped forwards, her eyes shimmering with determination, her pose being fierce despite her otherwise frail looking body.
"I knew her indeed. I know her still. Cymbaline Malkin. Yet time is a cruel thing, as are the divine or those whom claim to be such. As for your quest to find your father? He died a long time ago alongside your mother, I would know... because I am he." Gadez said in a soft and sorrowful tone of voice, his hand moving to his chest, placing it flatly upon it. Anora raised both of her hands to her mouth and her eyes closed slightly, tears forming and she was shaking.
"Y-you.... somehow... I knew... the moment I laid eyes on you in the jail. Your eyes. I knew them." She frowned and looked up to the taller older man before rushing up and raising her hand. The slap resonated in the storage room as it struck the man across the cheek.
"I-I've looked for you for so long.. why did you leave me alone? How dare you come back to me now? Like this?" She swallowed before reaching out with both her arms and wrapped her arms around Gadez, her head pressing against his chest. "Why? I have had so many questions unanswered... I have been so lonely..." She said in a shaky voice, upset but happy regardless. His arms softly held her in an embrace.
"Of all the beings in this world, you alone have the right to pass judgement on me. I left you in a place where I knew you could find a better life, the old woman in the orphanage gave me her word, and she kept it. I had to harden my already dullened heart to leave you there. I also gave my word, that I would destroy those who destroyed your mother. The divine. Aelios. Your mother suffered from an illness no mortal could cure, no spell nor potion could save her. And the divine just allowed it to happen. That is something I cannot forget neither forgive. So I will do what I can to send both kingdoms into ruin along with all traces of their divines so that a new kingdom can rise. One which does not distinguish, does not care whom you are, where you came from. And the only one in my eyes, that is pure enough to lead that kingdom… is you..." He lowered his head, taking a knee, something he had sworn to never do to any other, mortal nor divine.
"There's so much anger in you. Let go of it. Stay here with me. I will talk with Flynn and he'll understand I am sure. You speak of ending so many lives? Those who are left behind will seek revenge for the fallen and the cycle will never end. I do not know what plan the divine has in store for this world and it's people, but must the entire world burn for you to be content? The world isn't perfect, but we are working towards it day by day... and I could never be a leader, why should anyone care to listen to what I would have to say?" Anora asked after shaking Gadez's both arms with hers, as if trying to shake him out from whatever dream he was in.
"It has already destroyed me. What you see is a phantom of a man who died a long time ago. We humans have fought one another since the beginning of time, even the divine wage their endless war, they cannot accept one another. As for why they should listen to you? Because you will be the only one with royal blood left standing after I am done and the only one whose hands will remain clean. Dawnhaven is the only place where the people of the two kingdoms can find a common ground." The blond man explained.
"Stop talking like that! There are good people left in this world. Royal blood?" She tilted her head to the side, her eyes squinting slightly.
"Indeed. You see… King Auric is my father, but I am merely that man's bastard child." Gadez said with a snort.
"You.. are Flynn's older brother? But that would mean... I am..." She asked herself, more than the blond man before her. It hurt her within.
"...and this is why, I have kept you hidden, to shield you from harm. Both from becoming like me, but also from becoming like Flynn and the rest of Auric's accursed line." The man explained, his hand reaching out to move the blond strands of hair from her face.
"You dyed your hair to hide the fact that you were adopted by the Raunefeldt family, but it was also the haircolour that your mother had. It suits you well. Anora Opal Malkin. Precious gem of the feline. I watched you from the shade, for many years. Like a Lynx hidden amidst the trees. I was there when you celebrated your twelfth birthday. Do you remember the mime?" He asked her, and gave a soft smile.
"The mime? That.. that was you? You... gave me that book. The one with the drawings." Anora said softly in thought then smiled.
"What are you planning to do now... father?" Anora said and set her gaze straight into his, fierce determination and defiance in it.
"To set the stage for your kingdom come. Stay safe precious gem. Our beautiful Anora. Reveal not what you know of our connection, there are those here whom would use this knowledge to kill you." His hand moved up to caress her hair and then he planted a kiss on her forehead.
"What if I will not do that? What if I will go immediately to Flynn and turn myself in and tell him what you plan to do? And stop talking about that whole kingdom thing. I reject it with my entire being! I will not, cannot be what you want me to be!" Anora said in a fierce tone of voice, her hands placing themselves at her waist.
"That's my girl alright. Defiant like myself. Like your mother as well. You have her heart..." Gadez smiled softly as he began to try walk past her. "I am sorry for not being there for you. I will never forgive myself for it, neither do I bear the right to ask for it. This is just something... I have to do or I cannot bear existing." He said in a solemn tone.
"I forgive you... but you are trying to leave me again. Why can you not let it go? There are things we cannot change no matter how much we like to. She would understand that. She knew that. I am certain. I never wanted you to do this... you stubborn foolish man!" Anora held out her hand offering it to the older man, her father, the fugitive, the bastard.
"..." He remained silent and began walking towards the stairs. "Dress warm my precious Opal..." He said softly, his hair hung over his face as if to conceal what he felt as he ascended up the stairs, throwing one last glance over his shoulder at the child, his child, the one he had left behind. His heart. His vulnerability. His soft spot. It was after all for her sake that he had set out to change the world, he never had any intention of being in it. Had she not been born, he would have died back with Cymbaline or while driving his blade into Auric's core.
"I'll stop this. I'll stop all of this. I'll stop you." Anora said softly to herself, teary eyed as her eyes narrowed and looked up through her hair partially concealing her eyes.
Location: His treehouse, several dozen feet above ground. Construction went on nicely the last couple of days. While the tree has not reached its intended height yet, I can safely say that it is already large and sturdy enough to carry most of the intended housing area. I am, in fact, standing on its very floorboards as I am writing this. I was offered one of the new homes on the outskirts of the growing town, but did not hesitate to decline politely. I am much more happy to dwell dozens of feet above the ground. The air is more fresh, I do not have to hide behind any corner to shift, and whenever I do not want any visitors I can just pull up the rope ladder to the ramp.
It's a common misconception that peacocks can't fly at all, but I am pretty confident that particular one I am also trying to escape from never will dare to come up here. I also planted some vines that harmonizes well with the tree, but not so well with anyone trying to climb it and touching one of its many thorns. Got the anti-venom stashed away up here, just in case...
A rather harsh breeze of wind made the lantern swing back and forth violently below the branch it was hanging down from. Valthyr had to slam his hand down on the page to keep it from flying off. He sat on what could best be considered a balcony in conventional terms, but in reality it was more of a small platform only connected to the center room by a couple feet of narrow catwalk secured with ropes. The platform was bolted down to and supported by one of the more massive branches while railings made sure he would not fall of that easily either. No roof, just a nice place to hang out in a chill night with the possibility to retreat instantly.
I really was not sure whether adding a fireplace would be such a clever decision, but this 'winter' would make it too chill otherwise. Furniture is still mostly missing though.
He had to chuckle at that point. He had made more furniture for others than for himself so far, but seeing Sya in her new chair so far had never failed to cast a smile on his face. He had a bed, a roof, quite a bit of storage space and room for future expansion as the tree still had not finished growing larger.
Quite a few people have left for the expedition. I think the prince still does not really trust me, otherwise he might have sent me on that one, too. Or he does not know me yet really, who knows. At least the wound has healed fairly well except for a small scar. I can live with that.
The druid put down the quill for a moment, letting it rest in the small sea of ink next to his chair on the floor. Maybe he could convince Flynn to plant a few more trees ? Not the same species, this one had nothing special except for one could build tree houses on it. He had been nourishing the idea of setting up a few Nahmta seeds he had brought along with him almost since his arrival, but been busy enough with other things so far. The plant did not grow particularly large, but would require attention of maybe a few others than him as well to keep harvesting the sap they literally seeped through their bork constantly to form a tight seal against herbivores. Truth was the sap, once crystallized, was highly flammable and released enormous amounts of heat. His people back home used it to melt the little iron they needed. It just smelled a little infernal before combustion.
Maybe I could gain the prince's full trust by offering him the very top of my home as an emplacement for a ballista or similar ? If nothing happens, the blight might ultimately arrive here, too. A few incendiary devices hurled down onto them might do wonders. I shall not mention how that thing could also be aimed at the peacock's residence however.
He had not slept, though that fact, in itself, was hardly remarkable. Sleep, since his transformation, had become a skirmish fought in the dark hours between exhaustion and the strange vigilance necessary to deal with what now lived beneath his skin. And more often than not, and surprisingly to most, he found himself losing that battle.
But last night had been different.
Last night, he had stationed himself at the edge of camp with his back to the dying embers and his face turned toward the treeline, watching the darkness, that dense blightness, pooling between those ancient pines and thickening in ways wholly unrelated to the hour. And something inside him, some fundamental piece of the man he no longer fully understood, had leaned toward it not with revulsion but with ease. A terrible, unearned familiarity that he knew he should not entirely trust but found himself doing so because he knew that feeling. He had carried a dim version of it inside him for years, buried beneath duty and discipline and, most of all, restraint. But out here, closer to the source of his transformation than he had been since that agonizing day on Aurelia's border, it was much harder to ignore: it was recognition.
Still, Orion had managed to turn away from it and gone to check the perimeter anyway.
With the beginning of the next day, the camp was finding its rhythm. Guards rotated through their posts at the clearing's edge, breath misting in the cold. Equipment emerged from oiled canvas and was unpacked, inventoried, and repacked. The horses stood bundled under their blankets in the makeshift corral, steam curling from their nostrils. Snow had begun to fall again, too, though this was not the gentle drift of the hours before. Instead, the flakes were thicker now, their descent more purposeful as they clung to wool and leather and the dark fringe of Orion's hair, melting against his scalp only to be replaced by fresh arrivals.
He moved through it all without hurry, first having a word with the guards on rotation before pausing by the supply crates stacked along the eastern treeline to look over the bindings to ensure they were secure. He also noted who had emerged from their tents and who had not, filing away the state of each person under his watch with the kind of attention that looked, from the outside, like nothing at all. Just a man walking. But Flynn had entrusted him with this, so of course it was anything but.
It was then that he stopped near the fire and looked toward the ruins on the hill despite himself. Even here, the blight was visible, seemingly clinging to nearby structures like some purple, bruised, diseased ivy.
“Good morning, Lord Nightingale.”
He’d heard her before she’d even reached him, but Orion turned only as she slowed to a stop beside him, acknowledging her greeting with a courteous nod. "Sage Hightower."
“Thank you for meeting with me.” A faint smile touched her lips. “I believe Ivor already went ahead to scout the area. Nesna should join us today, too.” She paused, scanning the camp, before calling over a nearby guard. “Guard Hale, would you mind finding Nesna for us?”
Hale looked up, offered a lazy mock salute that bordered on insolent, and disappeared between the tents with a smirk on his lips. Orion watched him go but said nothing. The guard was competent, if irreverent, and he’d tolerated worse over the years.
Eris folded her gloved hands together in front of her for warmth, Orion wagered, though the gesture also lent her an air of contemplative patience.
“The weather appears to be worsening,” she observed softly, her gaze flicking briefly to the distant ruins before returning to him. “Once Ivor returns and Nesna joins us, perhaps we should gather everyone near the fire?”
"Agreed," Orion replied. "But I want rotations maintained. Two eyes on the treeline at all times, even if they have to stand shoulder to shoulder to keep warm." His gaze drifted back to the hill. "And when Ivor returns, I want his report before anyone else hears it."
After that, Orion's eyes drifted to Nathaniel, who had emerged from the cluster of tents, his breath pluming in the cold. He crossed the clearing with purposeful strides, reached Eris, and handed her one of the satchels slung over his shoulder.
Orion counted three satchels in total. Three. Which meant, if his understanding of their research priorities held, at least one contained samples of Willis's blood. The thought surfaced without judgment. Willis had been a gamble, one that had so far paid uneven dividends, but the research continued regardless.
"Sage Stormlight." Another brief nod, this one directed at Nathaniel. "We're waiting on Ivor and Nesna, and once they arrive, we'll begin."
“Good morning, Sage.” Katherine replied simply to Eris, watching as she stopped next to Orion by the fire. Her eyes moved to the Prince’s Advisor briefly, before she caught movement at the edge of her vision.
A smile spread across her face as she felt a familiar pair of lips plant a kiss on her cheek, warmth spreading through her face. Katherine took Daphne’s gloved hand in her own, leaning her head against the squire’s tall frame. “I haven’t had a chance to unpack my cookware yet, but I could be convinced if a certain someone deems it necessary.” She grinned playfully, grasping her other hand on Daphne’s upper arm and snuggling in closely.
“I’m happier here too.” Katherine said quietly. It wasn’t a complete lie. Her assignment still lingered in her mind, consistently taking part of her attention away, but she’d been able to bury it slightly after losing herself in work. Otherwise, she was away from Amaya and Kira, the only things in Dawnhaven that reminded her of her past; and she was away from Flynn, who she guessed was already quite suspicious of her presence in the town.
There was still Orion to keep her eyes on, the one who was leading this expedition in the royalty’s stead, and who had likely been briefed on everyone who came along. From the look of it, he was also blightborn, which added a layer of complexity to things. She glanced at him once more as the group stood by the fire, curiosity taking hold as the two hadn’t crossed paths much since leaving Dawnhaven.
A problem for later. Katherine mused to herself, bringing a hand down to straighten out the fur of her coat that concealed her leather armor. She’d held nothing back in preparation for this expedition and was armed about as much as one would expect for a member of the King’s Eye--none of it immediately visible of course. Twin short-swords hung at her hips concealed by the fur of her jacket, and in each of her boots, a dagger was hidden. Anything that wasn’t held at bay with weaponry would be sorted out with magic.
Another partially familiar face appeared by the fire and Katherine nodded to him silently. Sage Stormlight, from what she was able to gather through the crackle of the fire.
“I wonder what’s in store for us on this fine day…” She said quietly to Daphne, letting the sarcasm drip through her words. The weather was miserable--as usual--and as much as she praised Seluna’s constant presence, she missed the warmth of spring and summer.
Katherine found a smirk spreading across her face as Eris spoke about the weather, biting back a witty remark as she reminded herself about what had happened the last time she’d chosen to get snarky with people of importance. “If you need, I have another cloak in my tent should you need it, Sage.” She sent a warm, understanding smile to Eris, “Say the word and it’s yours.”
Location: Office inside the Alchemy Chambers Collabs Between:@Qia, @SpicyMeatball, @enmuni, @Beard Dad, @Queen Arya & @The Muse Exhausted from the earlier events of the day, Flynn conducts the blight-born interviews with Orion at his side. Fatigue is evident on his face, though he tries his best to hide it. He begins the interviews cordially, forces a faint smile when introducing himself and his advisor, but his eyes are clearly very weary.
Orion stands nearby, observing the conversation with Flynn and each blight-born sitting across the desk from him. For every interview, two guards stand watch outside the closed door.
“What is your full name?”
“Aldrick Corveau,” He answered, looking across Flynn’s tired expression without comment, “Very much at your service.”
Flynn paused, eyes thoughtfully scanning the man sitting across from him. He could’ve sworn he’d heard that name before.
“Thank you, Aldrick.” He said, brushing the feeling aside. “How long have you been blight-born?”
“At my best guess, about three years now, but I was long away from villages for a while. Hard to keep track of time when you’re all alone.
“Understandable… are you fed by blood, energy, emotions, sex, psyche, souls, or magic?”
“It’s strange how appropriate it seems, but the blight deemed it that I am to feed off the emotions of my viewers and listeners. Rather fitting for a musician I would think. He smirked, moreso to himself than it was directed at Flynn, “I see it as a trade in place of money, and it seems quite harmless I assure you.
“How were you turned?”
“One does not spread the truth between kingdoms without making their fair share of enemies along the way, be it outlaws or the nations themselves. I don’t know yet who did it, nor may I ever know, but I truly believe someone tried to silence me and failed. They tried to make me disappear while I was on the road, and while they didn’t succeed, my credibility is non-existent among the commonfolk these days.”
“What abilities did you inherit? List all of them as best you can, please.”
“Don’t get too excited, your highness. No extraordinary powers from this bard I’m afraid. I seem to be bound to my instruments, though everything about them is… stronger. My magical abilities, while limited, are also certainly stronger than before. My performances were a delight to be sure, but now… Now I can make them truly incredible.”
“What of your weaknesses?”
“I am bound to the very tools that bring me joy. I feel physical pain when they do.”
And what brings you to Dawnhaven?”
“Few other places are quite as accepting of such an outwardly presenting blightborn as myself. Especially with the appearance I have now. My parents have both passed and I have more money than I know how to spend, and yet nothing to spend it on. I heard of this little haven from someone like me, a messenger of sorts, and well… I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Why not bring some joy to a town prophesized to fail?”
Flynn glanced up from his notes, green eyes steadily meeting Aldrick. For a breath, he held the gaze, his expression solemn. Thoughts shifted behind his eyes, but never left his lips.
“Are you willing to abide by the laws and customs of our town?” He asked, returning his attention to his journal.
“Without a doubt. Even in my past life, though I frequently skirted borders, I was not one to break the law. I have spent a few nights in cells, yes, but only because certain members of both governments wanted to scare me away.”
Flynn couldn’t help but find himself thinking of the escaped prisoner — Halcyon — a supposed truth-sayer himself. He wondered what sort of “truth” Aldrick spewed that got him thrown into cells and earned him an assassination attempt.
“Can you co-exist peacefully with the humans and other blight-born here? You are not permitted to feed on anyone in Dawnhaven. This is a sanctuary, and I expect you to treat it as such. Do as you will with the people outside of Dawnhaven, but if you are caught, there is nothing I can do to help you. You will be at the whim of the King of Lunaris. I advise you to try to find other means of sustenance, not humans.”
“But of course. It wouldn’t do me much good to make angry the people of the last safe haven available to me, now would it?”
“To live here, you must contribute to the wellbeing of Dawnhaven. As with all people here, you will have a job and commit to helping the community. Are you willing to do so?”
“My parents were farmers, and as such, so am I. These hands are not afraid to get in the dirt, so to say. Give me a shovel and I will dig, an axe, and I will cut. It would be boring otherwise, would it not? To sit back and do nothing every day?”
“What was your profession before you turned?”
“My name used to be one that was recognized among the commonfolk as a truth-bringer. One that could be trusted to inform the people of happenings throughout both kingdoms. I was a messenger, but not one that hid behind the censors of city parchments. I was also briefly a member of the city watch in the capitol, as well as, like I previously mentioned, working in the fields with my parents.” He paused, a slight smile across his lips, “I am a master of none, but I have done much.”
“How would you like to work in the local tavern — the Eye of the Beholder? You said you’d like to bring joy to the town…” Flynn set down his pen and closed the journal, meeting eyes with Aldrick. “You mentioned that you can make your performances incredible. I think the town is in need of some levity… we could use your talent. So long as you do not feed on your audience.” He paused, eyes searching Aldrick’s, though it was difficult to tell much of what was happening behind those glossy yellow orbs.
“I’ve been acquainted with the tavern and it would be my pleasure to entertain its patrons. I will do my best to not get lost in my art though, by your order.”
“A blight-born by the name of Sya runs the Eye. One of our best citizens and assets in Dawnhaven. I’m sure she’d be happy to show you the ropes.”
Aldrick nodded and a small, but warm smile spread across his lips.
Orion had remained still throughout most of the exchange, his attention divided between the man seated before them and the weary yet persevering prince beside him. He listened as Flynn offered him a place at the Eye of the Beholder. Listened as the name lingered in his thoughts.
Corveau
Music drifting through an open courtyard in Aurelia long before Dawnhaven existed. Long before the Blight had carved its mark into him. A lone voice carrying stories not found in any official records.
“You used to perform in Aurelia.” His crimson eyes studied him now not as a stranger but as someone returned from the dead. “I remember the name now. More importantly, I remember hearing about a few of those…truths you speak of, and while you will find Dawnhaven does not fear inconvenient truths, Corveau, it does require loyalty and the willingness to do no harm to its subjects, human or not.
“The intent has never been to be inconvenient, but to provide the people with the knowledge that their leadership should have shared. To remove the bias of royal edicts and make aware the public of happenings outside of their own kingdoms. I may have been born of Aurelia but my allegiance lies with the commonfolk, regardless of their heritage.” He paused, looking between the men, “Worry not, I am not here to cause issues. Whether or not you find the tales I tell or the news I deliver inconvenient, well… that is up to you.”
“What is your full name?”
“…Nesna. Nesna is the only name I use these days.”
The Prince hesitated for a moment, considering whether or not to press further. “Nesna… How long have you been blight-born?”
“Forgive my imprecision; it’s been long enough that I forget. Six years, I believe it’s been. Yes, six, perhaps closer to seven these days.”
“Nearly from the beginning… Flynn mused, almost to himself as he scribbled more notes into his journal. “Are you fed by blood, energy, emotions, sex, psyche, souls, or magic?”
“Blood, I’m afraid. I simply can’t stomach anything else.”
“How were you turned?”
“By the Blight, of course. I ran into it, in hopes of a swifter death than the frost would have offered me. Alas, instead of death, I received a second breath.”
Flynn glanced up from his journal to study her briefly, then returned to it. “I see… What abilities did you inherit? List all of them as best you can, please.”
“As one might expect, I can fly. I’m no faster, and certainly no more agile, than a carrier pigeon, but I can fly nonetheless. Now, my hearing, my hearing is second to none. I can press my ear to a chimney and hear a conversation in the furnace room as though I were standing there. As far as physical prowess goes, I gather my strength and speed are lesser compared to most blight-born, though certainly still much improved relative to my living self.
Physically, I can put up with quite a lot of impact. I’ve crashed into trees and stones and so forth while flying, and mostly just needed to dust myself off. I’m not as graceful as I’d like to be, but I can certainly sustain the results of my lack of grace. Similarly, I can go much longer than most without rest or nourishment. I think my being is just slow by nature these days. I can amble along for a day or two without sleeping to no ill effects.
Now, the ability I’m most pleased by is my magical ability. Even before the enduring night, things came more easily to me than they once did. Really, I haven’t been able to explore it as much as I’d like due to lack of worthwhile instruction, so I can’t offer a precise reckoning of my potential, but I imagine it’s significant.
Lastly, though I’m unsure if one would count it among abilities, I should discuss my blood. It’s thick, similar to syrup in consistency, and as dark as pitch. I couldn’t say what it would do to humans or blight-born, but on animals, it seems to behave as a fatiguing balm when put into contact with the skin. From what I’ve observed, it doesn’t appear terribly pleasant, but its effects are temporary, and nonlethal.”
The sound of Flynn’s pen scribbling on parchment filled the room for a few moments as he tried to jot down everything Nesna was (thankfully) divulging. When he had more time — and his head wasn’t pounding or his eyes weren’t burning to be closed — he’d return to these notes to go over it with Lady Hightower.
Interesting… And helpful, thank you.” He finally said, “And what of your weaknesses?”
“When I said I was slower than most blight-born, I should emphasize that I’m no faster than a normal person. Perhaps even slower than most when it comes to reflexes. I’m afraid I’m just not built for those displays of prowess for which blight-born are known. My joints are no good, and I certainly can’t summon this sort of hysterical strength that many seem to have.
But really, if it were necessary to contain or kill me, the easiest way would be by means of light and warmth. I simply can’t handle bright lights. It hurts my eyes to stare at a lantern or into a fireplace. And as for heat? It’s uncomfortably warm here for me as it stands. I imagine a normal Aurelian summer’s night might be deadly to me. In a warm bath, I’m liable to faint and go limp. I simply cannot bear heat, much as I may miss the warmth of the fireside.”
I see… thank you for your detailed answers, Nesna. What brings you to Dawnhaven?”
“Pardon if I sound coy in saying so, but any Lunarian blight-born would be hard-pressed to end up anywhere else if they missed civilization. And how I do miss it dearly.”
Flynn nodded in understanding, briefly glancing up from his notes to her. She’d been away from civilization for so long. “Are you willing to abide by the laws and customs of our town?”
“Without question, I am.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t doubt her.
“Can you co-exist peacefully with the humans and other blight-born here? You are not permitted to feed on anyone in Dawnhaven. This is a sanctuary, and I expect you to treat it as such. Do as you will with the people outside of Dawnhaven, but if you are caught, there is nothing I can do to help you. You will be at the whim of the King of Lunaris. I advise you try to find other means of sustenance, not humans.”
“Blight-born though I may be, I do like to imagine there’s some measure of humanity left in me. And good, decent folk have no business gnawing on one another’s bones. Rest assured, I have no intention to stray from my diet of animal blood.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Flynn said, jotting down one last note before closing the journal. “To live here, you must contribute to the wellbeing of Dawnhaven. As with all people here, you will have a job and commit to helping the community. Are you willing to do so?”
“Wherever I may be of use, I shall do my duty.”
“Thank you. What was your profession before you turned?”
“Regrettably, I have never had a proper profession. I had several aspirations, none of which I was able to pursue in any official capacity. To name them, I had hoped to become a Sage, a Magistrate, or perhaps simply content myself with running the family estate once I had become head. But, if it would please His and Her Highnesses and the Sages, I would be most honored of all to make myself of use to them. I am well-read and possess swift and seemly handwriting.”
Flynn considered the idea for a few moments, his gaze shifting behind Nesna and to the door that led out into the Alchemy Chambers. Adding a blight-born to the team would likely make the Lead Sage uncomfortable — especially one who looked as striking as Nesna did. But this one…
His eyes shifted back to her. From what he could tell, she seemed to genuinely want to help and integrate herself back into society. A rare attribute to come by, he was finding.
“Yes… I think that could work just fine.” He said, though a thread of hesitation laced his words. Lady Hightower likely wouldn’t be happy, but she would adjust. It would be good for her to better acquaint herself with the people so deeply affected by what she was studying. “I believe your assistance could be invaluable.”
This was when Orion, quiet and listening in all this time, finally spoke up.
“One last thing…Nesna,” he said, “Do you regret surviving? You expressed what sounded like regret earlier.” The question was not meant to carry cruelty. It was only that Orion himself had once stood on the other side of it, which kept him from looking at Flynn when he asked it. The prince knew him well enough to understand.
Nesna froze in place at the question. Her neutral expression wavered, as if several different thoughts were fighting their ways to the surface. She sighed. “I…Well…It—It’s hard to say, exactly. Make no mistake, I’ve had plenty of time to consider the matter. But, as I’m sure one might imagine with as much time to think on the matter as I’ve had, it’s just…hardly so simple. It’s all regrettable, yes. In truth, I regret a great many things outside of my control which led up to my death. But at this point? I can hardly imagine there to be any way one might avoid regret here. I’ve wondered, sometimes, if my state be the rejection of the Goddess herself, barring me from leaving this world. Or perhaps my state is a cruel gift of some manner. I am no priestess—I could not say.” Nesna stopped speaking abruptly. She shuffled in her seat and tightened her jaw. “I regret that I do not understand why I remain here. I do not even know whether all of this is nothing but hallucinating as my body freezes over. But I do, I do regret that I have experienced seven years now as some abominable beast of the night. If my eyes do not deceive me, then I shall only regret not helping more in the search to see the Blight resolved, whether it means a medicinal cure or my proper death.” Nesna bore a bitter expression, with a stiffened upper lip. Despite her obvious form as a blightborn, it was clear she held no more love for being one than many a wellborn Lunarian might have felt for an average blightborn.
Orion listened to the uncertainty in her voice. The searching. The absence of clean conclusions. The bitterness that had not yet calcified into hatred. He recognized it, though not its precise contours, as his own journey had followed a different geography and a different god. And yet the shape of it was unmistakable. That particular wound left by faith's abandonment. The hollow where answers should have been, filled instead with questions that echoed and multiplied. He had asked himself the same ones once, in the tenebrous hours before a dawn that didn’t come and when sleep refused to do the same and when the past refused to stay buried.
Different god. Different sky. Same silence in return.
When she finished, the room settled into quiet again as if waiting to see what the prince and Orion would make of that answer. Orion's gaze, for his part, rested on her in understanding.
“The blight does not grant purpose,” Orion said then, his tone gentle but unflinching. “It only removes what came before. Strips away the scaffolding we built our lives upon and leaves us standing in the rubble, wondering why we remain standing at all.” He had seen it enough times to know the pattern. Had lived it himself. “What follows, what we build from that rubble, is decided by the one who remains. Not by any god, though she is great. Not by any design, either. But by us.”
He cleared his throat.
“Though you may be slower and weaker than most, I’m sure there’s something we can find for you to do, like with your flying or magical abilities, perhaps. Rest assured, you will find your place in this civilization.”
“What is your full name?”
“I…I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” Even before she’d entered the room, she had felt his overwhelming presence. It wasn’t just the authority and confidence of a groomed leader as she had expected. There was a deep, dense weight that accompanied him, one that could have crushed her were it physical.
Celine’s heart pounded in her ears, threatening to fracture her skull wide open. Everything sounded muffled, even as Flynn repeated himself; she barely understood the words. “Ah, yes, Celine Moreau,” Sweat began to bead on her forehead. She forced as reassuring a smile as she could, her eyes briefly casting over Orion, wondering if he could feel the pressure of the man he stood beside.
“Thank you, Celine. How long have you been blight-born?”
“Some months now,” her brain felt like putty, “though the exact dates I’m unsure of without going through my notes.”
“I see.” A fresh blight-born always left Flynn on edge. They hadn’t had much time to fully understand their new capabilities — or how to control themselves. “Are you fed by blood, energy, emotions, sex, psyche, souls, or magic?”
She paused, unsure if the answer would only make the man more uneasy. Then again, perhaps if he knew how torturous this was to her… “Emotions…”, she stated rather flatly, “please…forgive the impertinence, but are you quite alright?”
Flynn’s green eyes flicked up to meet hers. He studied her in the dim candlelight, letting silence fill the room. The fact that she could feel whatever he was feeling was an uncomfortable thought, but if he took a moment to consider her question…
His head, his heart, his soul. It all ached — deep, sharp and painful. He was not alright. Far from it.
But there was no time to analyze or sit with the feeling of it. He needed to keep moving. If he didn’t, his legs might buckle under the weight of it all.
“I’m alright.” He replied with a calm, steady voice. “It’s been a long few days.” Months. “I apologize if you are feeling any of the… exhaustion coming from me.” Exhaustion and everything else he refused to address. “We can try to make this quick for you. How were you turned?”
Exhaustion felt like a heavy understatement. Every thought, every ounce of pain, the weight of the town upon his shoulders, it all felt like dagger tips drilling into her temples. Celine could not produce the same mask as Flynn and visibly winced at his lie.
She knew he hadn’t intended on causing her discomfort, however this was her first time having an extended conversation with someone undergoing so much turmoil; the stress was almost unbearable. In an odd way, the man before her felt distinctly more lagomorph than herself.
She inhaled sharply, fighting against her darkening vision and maintaining consciousness. “I’m a doctor, I go where I’m needed. Under that notion I went, perhaps foolishly, where others dared not to tread. During my short time in the blighted lands I became infected…cursed…whatever you call it via proximity. I don’t remember how I died, only that when I awoke, my appearance had changed to…this.” The woman gestured towards herself and her elongated ears flexed in response.
Flynn nodded, glancing up at her ears before jotting down a few more notes. “And what abilities did you inherit? List all of them as best you can, please.”
Celine shook her head, “As I said, I can feel the emotions of others, as to the extent of those abilities, I have yet to discover every facet. All that said.” She turned towards her satchel, movements slow and deliberate, careful not to provoke retaliation as she rifled through its contents. Eventually producing a leatherbound journal, she slid the book towards the prince, resting it on the center of the table between them. “I’ve been carefully documenting everything, treating this like I would any other disease. I think what you’ll find in there will be of interest, both you and your sages~.”
Everything became too much, the room started spinning almost as simultaneously as her words began slurring. The oppressive weight behind the prince’s emotions was pinning her down like a chokehold. As consciousness slipped from her grasp, reality spinning away, so too did her grip on the table. Celine’s body slowly slumped and crumpled from her chair, threatening to crash hard into the stone cold floor below.
Flynn stood abruptly. In the blink of an eye, Orion was at Celine’s side, steadying her back into the chair. Flynn’s brow furrowed, his gaze lifting to Orion, then to the door.
“Guards!”
The door flew open and an Aurelian guard burst inside with a hand on his sword, another guard trailing closely behind. “Sire?” The first guard's eyes darted around the room for any sign of danger, finally settling on the crumpled form of Celine.
“See that she gets medical care — now.”
The guards quickly shuffled into the room, hands falling away from their weapons as they moved around Orion and began trying to cradle Celine to take her out of the room.
For a breath, he did not move. The guards were there, their hands reaching to take her away, and Orion's grip on Celine's arm squeezed in a reflexive refusal before he forced his fingers to unlock.
He had vouched for her. Had sat across from her in the cold, studying her face for cracks, and decided she was worth the hazard. Had asked, with the same directness he afforded everyone, whether she would hold her ground when the moment came, and she had answered him honestly. That honesty, however, had not included this: the way she now slumped between the guards, her gaze fixed on some middle distance that offered no solace.
And there was something unbearable about watching a person you had assessed as resilient simply fold.
Orion watched the guards maneuver her toward the door. Then his eyes moved to Flynn. "I'll see her settled," he said, "and I'll be back before the next one."
He didn't wait for permission. He rarely needed to with Flynn, and Flynn rarely required it of him. He simply followed the guards through the door, pulling it closed behind him.
Sighing heavily, Flynn lowered himself back into his chair. Now, without eyes to perceive his poor posture, he slumped into the back of it. For a moment, he stared at his desk — at nowhere at all. Eyes glazed over. Thoughts too loud to hear the commotion outside the door, or the crackle of the candles lining the room.
He hadn’t known how much time had passed before a knock at the door came. Flynn sat up straight, blinking back into reality as a Sage peeked her head into the room and asked if he was ready for the next blight-born. He shook his head. “Give me a moment, please.”
She nodded and disappeared, closing the door as Flynn leaned back again. This time, his gaze found the journal Celine had left behind. Leaning forward, he opened it.
“...I made my first foray into a village since my turning, I donned the thickest cloak I had, concealing my appearance from those around me. Although the denizens turned a queer eye towards me, they did not question me directly. My new ears, however, seemed to have a heightened sense of hearing; even obscured through the heavy cloth I was able to piece together some of their conversation. Beyond the physical, there is also something else, something that feels almost intuitive in nature. I cannot explain it more than I seem to have the ability to feel what others are feeling around me. Some of it comes in as waves, pleasant as the shore, while others feel harsh, menacing and oppressive, if not painful…”
“...I found a crying child today, in an effort to console them I attempted to recall an old story my mentor had told me. In that effort of recollection, before the words had even spilled out, the child seemed calm, almost wistful, almost as if they mimicked the emotions I felt. This requires more interactions to confirm a hypothesis I have, but just this one alone has left me feeling rather exhausted. Will regroup and come back to this later…”
What of your weaknesses?
“...I had heard of the incredible strength and durability of blightborn. Since my turning I haven’t felt any surge of power or notion of immortality. I once heard of a blightborn cleaving an entire boulder in half, although I don’t predict myself doing so, I figure attempting to strike an object with a similar hardness in nature should be a good experimental equivalent…”
The next written sentence is not nearly as neat, the written Aurelian appearing jagged and scratchy.
“...Update, the experiment did not go well. I hit a tree as hard as I could and it hurt BAD…”
What brings you to Dawnhaven?
“It’s been 128 days since my turning, I’m so tired. Tired of hiding my visage, tired of running when people discover what I am. The cold is tolerable, but I miss the warmth of a hearth, the chatter of company around me as I pore over my books, a warm cup in my hand. I desperately wish to have that kind of normalcy again, and if the rumours are true, there may be a town that could accommodate an aberrant such as myself.”
Are you willing to abide by the laws and customs of our town?
“There is a fear, in the back of my mind, that this town is nothing more than a hoax. That I shall one day arrive there and immediately be caged like an animal, or worse yet slaughtered like one. Yet something pushes me forward, a sort of blind faith, one where people simply want to coexist together in peace, where cooler heads prevail and the word of law is a just one. It may be a naive notion, blind faith, but I have little left to lose.”
Can you co-exist peacefully with the humans and other blight-born here?
“Hunger feels like a greater vice than when I was mortal. When I was hungry it was easy enough to consume food, but as I am now, emotions seem to satisfy. The emotion seems to offer a different level of satisfaction, almost akin to flavouring foods with salt and spices. Indulging too much on an emotion, however can… I almost killed a man doing it once, I can’t afford to lose control like that again.”
“In that effort I piece together emotional snacks, a bit here from one, some there from another, but it’s not satisfying. I'm left in a constant state of hunger and some days I feel more nauseous than others because of it. Perhaps if there is someone like me in that town, someone who feeds on what others feel, maybe they’ve found a better way to control those urges, or to satisfy their hunger.”
To live here, you must contribute to the wellbeing of Dawnhaven. As with all people here, you will have a job and commit to helping the community. Are you willing to do so”
“Priestess Tia has been kind to me these past few weeks, her anxiety has been palpable, but she’s been a welcome breadth of fresh air. During our time together, holed up during the blizzard along with the gentleman called Gadez, she spoke nothing but accolades for the perseverance of Dawnhaven and its people. There is a community here, growing, surviving, barely a scrap and yet it defies the heavens to forbid its existence. Now with the blizzard cleared I’m finally able to make my way into the town proper, and use my skills to pay it forward. Blind faith brought me here, now it’s time to do something practical with it.”
Flynn closed her journal, setting his pen aside.
For a moment, he stayed there, leaning forward with his head propped up on one hand, staring at the worn leather binding.
Gadez.
Halcyon — whatever name he chose to wear. He’d stayed with the High Priestess through the blizzard. Flynn’s jaw tightened faintly. What did Tia or Celine know of the man? The criminal.
With a sigh, Flynn stood on weary legs. He stowed both his and Celine’s journals safely in his coat pocket before crossing the room toward the office door.
As he opened it, he spotted Orion returning. Their eyes met. Flynn took in the exhaustion lingering in his old friend’s gaze — the heaviness in his posture, the strain neither of them had the energy to address right now.
For a fleeting moment, Flynn remembered summers in the capital. Training together, baking beneath the sun. Laughter came easier then.
The memory faded as quickly as it surfaced. Their carefree days seemed so far in the past now.
Stepping aside for Orion to enter, Flynn straightened, pulling himself back into the shape duty required of him. His eyes met the Sage who waited with the blight-born.
“Send the next one in.”
“What is your full name?”
”Priestess Ranni Soleil. Uhm, Your Highness, you seem drained. Should you still be working? We often had to treat overworked clerics who passed out from exaug-” The Priestess said softly, catching herself halfway in the act of starting to get up in an attempt to render aid. ”R-right. You know that. My apologies, Your Highness.”, her cheeks flushing with color from the embarrassment gripping her very soul.
A brief hint of a smile touched the corner of the Prince’s lips. “I’ll be okay. Thank you, Priestess. His gaze returned to his notebook. “How long have you been blight-born?”
Still, Flynn pressed on, his second question causing Ranni to turn her attention away suddenly. Her previous attentiveness slipped for a second as if her mind briefly traveled somewhere else. In a small, deflated tone the Priestess whispered simply, ”I-I don't know.”
Flynn lifted a brow, glancing up at her. “You don’t know?”
She fell silent, refusing to elaborate further. For a breath, the Prince quietly studied her, assessing.
“Are you fed by blood, energy, emotions, sex, psyche, souls, or magic?”
”Wouldn't I be fed by fo-” Ranni said, catching herself midsentence as his options played through her mind.”D-does my condition mean I'm fed by one of those? H-how would I know?” She asked, mind flicking back to the present for but the briefest of seconds as her brow furrowed, clearly trying to figure out the answer to Prince Flynn's question.
Confusion flickering across his expression. “Are you saying you haven’t had cravings for any of those thus far?” He asked curiously, then jotted a few notes down. “It is… odd… that you do not know.” He added softly, meeting eyes with her once more. “As far as we are aware, all blight-born need one of those to survive. And it is almost uncontrollable for them, at first…. You would be quite the anomaly if you are able to survive on food alone.” He eyed her for a moment, cataloging the emotions that shifted through her eyes. “How were you turned?”
Nearly the moment the words left his lips, Ranni's eyes shot wide and once more stared straight ahead, her mind once again seeming to slip to another time and place. Only this time, powerful feelings from that dark place that'd stolen her mind ripped out via her psychic aura. Raw, unfiltered, and accidental. Fear and pain came first, just vague senses. Then bursts of clear memory ripped out across her aura. The burning and tightness in her throat as she tried desperately to draw another breath… only to be further filled by that burning miasma. Drowning her… without an inch of water.
The Prince watched her silently, observing as her gaze slipped past him. Past the room entirely, into a realm they couldn’t see. Flynn had seen a similar look on her before. In the temple, merely days ago. Standing before the eternal flame, that same vacant stare that seemed to—
His gaze abruptly dropped from her, brow furrowing as his attention turned inward.
His throat felt…. wrong. Thick. As though something unseen squeezed around it. His inhale came thin, barely reaching his lungs. A sharp pressure began to creep through his chest.
He swallowed. It didn’t help.
Suddenly, the world lurched. Whatever realm she had fallen into, she’d dragged him into the depths with her.
He was no longer inside his office. He was on the ground, watching his hand — No. Not his. A woman’s hand reached out, fingers clawing at the dirt. Purple miasma curled thick in the air, burning at their lungs with every breath.
“I don’t want to go!”
Ranni’s voice. The words tore through a ruined throat, strangled by the same invisible vice now closing around him. His eyes — her eyes — lifted. Just beyond the veil of blight, another figure collapsed to her knees.
Dyna. Horror carved into her features. Helpless. Devastated.
Flynn’s breath hitched, the vision snapping like a thread pulled too tight. He was back in his office. Still suffocating.
His gaze returned to the Priestess, eyes narrowing with suspicion. As his mind raced, a memory struck. Amaya had accused the Priestess of invading her mind. The Priestess, seemingly, was entirely unaware of it at the time. And now…
He tried to clear his throat. Tried to take another shallow breath.
“Priestess.” His voice came strained as he tried to project loudly enough to break through to her. “Ranni.” He tried again when she didn’t react, the rasp in his voice worsening. The next breath came audible — tight, uneven.
Orion had been watching the Priestess since the moment she sat down with the kind of scrutiny that had become reflex. He noted how her attention wandered at Flynn's second question, a brief deflation in her posture, as though some internal tether had gone slack. When her answer disappeared into an unfinished silence, he also recognized it for what it was. Blight-born carried their histories differently. Some buried them deep; others found the terrain of memory had eroded beyond recognition. And some, like him, had been forced to leave everything behind while still bearing its full weight. He had not judged her for any of it.
But this was something else entirely.
His heightened senses registered the change in the room before his conscious mind could supply a name for it. Then Flynn's expression shifted: the bone-tired weariness that had clung to him all evening sharpened into something involuntary, something desperate.
Orion pushed off from the wall in a single fluid motion. His first instinct was to reach for Flynn, but his eyes moved past him to Ranni—still elsewhere, still lost in a place the rest of them could not follow. A cold clarity settled over him, and he stepped forward and positioned himself at the edge of her eyeline, close enough that his presence might register through whatever held her captive. When he spoke, his voice was stripped of anything that might startle.
“Priestess.”
Flynn's breathing had grown ragged. The sound of it pulled something taut behind Orion's sternum, a tension he did not permit to reach his face.
“Ranni.” He used her given name without hesitation, without apology, because formality was a luxury for rooms where no one was suffocating.]“Come back.”
The Priestess felt… abandoned. Forsaken. As that terrible, rotten miasma filled her lungs and drank her strength like wine. Ranni's strength started to fail, as if she were slipping back into that same pit she'd fallen into before…
Until a voice cut through, not one she was familiar with yet one using her name as if familiar with her. The dreadful scene slowly faded away, replaced once more with Flynn's office… and the face of the man who'd previously been off the side. Ranni's form jumped slightly as she let out a gasp of surprise and her tail snapped around behind herself… only to realize the tightness in her throat had disappeared. She could breathe. Looking up towards the two with sad, tormented eyes, the girl muttered a soft apology.
Flynn drew in a sharp breath, instinctively rubbing at his throat as air rushed back into his lungs. The burn lingered in his chest, slow to fade. For a moment, he said nothing. Only breathed, his gaze set firmly on the Priestess.
Her meek apology didn’t quite reach him. All he heard — all he saw — was yet another danger sent directly to him from the temple of Aelios.
His eyes flicked briefly to Orion. Just a glance, a silent wary exchange as their gazes met. Awareness. Confirmation. Then back to her.
She had suffered, that much was clear. He had felt it — seen it, through whatever vision she’d forced into his mind. Nonetheless, she was far from harmless. She was a threat. And given her political standing, a very difficult one to get rid of.
His hand fell from his throat.
“Priestess. I understand you didn’t do that on purpose,” He said at last, voice quieter now, roughened at the edges but steady.
He exhaled slowly, recalling how distressed the Priestess had been when Amaya had confronted her about her untamed power.
“But we can’t have that happen again. Not to me. Not to anyone.”
His eyes searched hers. Not for guilt, but understanding. For a willingness to learn control.
The wide, uncertain look in her eyes pulled faintly at an old instinct. His youngest sister. Small, nervous hands clutching at his sleeve. The thought stilled as quickly as it came.
He might’ve been softened by it if she hadn’t just threatened his life.
“When your power begins to overtake you, if there’s any warning at all, please tell someone immediately.” A slight pause. “You won’t be left to manage it alone. We have many blight-born here who have learned to control it. I can find someone to offer guidance. Someone who understands what it feels like before your power… spills.”
His jaw tightened slightly, the memory of suffocation still fresh at the back of his throat.
“And I’ll inform the Sages. They’ll want to monitor this, especially if you haven’t felt the need to feed on anything in particular yet.” Another brief pause, his tone steadying further as he settled back into something more structured. “They may be able to help you with that, when the time comes.”
Clearing his throat, Flynn reached for his pen. Returning his gaze to his journal, he attempted to move forward with the interview. Attempted not to be too cold or too distant… not to a member of the clergy, especially.
But he felt it all the same. Something cold, closing in. Containing. The feeling of cold steel walls pressing in around him.
If not for Orion’s intervention, she could have killed him. His grip tightened faintly around the pen.
Orion held his position as the room resettled around Flynn's words. His eyes swept once over the priestess with the same assessing look he had given her from the start. She was distressed. Genuinely so. He had felt the visceral echo of whatever had seized her, and he did not doubt the suffering behind it. And yet, that did not particularly reassure him. He had watched Flynn's hand move to his own throat. Had seen the colour drain from his face and then, ever so slowly, return. It had been a near thing. Too near for any measure of comfort.
A single, pernicious thought lodged itself in the back of his mind: Would she have let him suffocate? He did not voice it. The question was unworthy of the moment, and possibly of her. But it remained a splinter beneath the skin.
Flynn finished speaking and reached for his pen. The soft scratch of the nib against paper filled the lull. Orion let the silence stretch for a breath, then two, long enough for his words to land without the taint of urgency or accusation.
"The offer stands regardless of what the Sages determine," he said, his gaze on Ranni, steady and unreadable. "If you feel it beginning again here or anywhere else in Dawnhaven, you find one of us. Immediately." There was no equivocation in his tone. No room for polite refusal or self-sacrificing solitude. He had learned long ago that some dangers could not be faced alone, and that the hard thing was sometimes simply admitting that aloud. He did not add That is an order or Do you understand? either. She was not a soldier, and he was not her commander. But the significance behind his words carried the same feeling. Some offers, after all, were not truly optional.
Flynn nodded in accordance with Orion, his gaze shifting away from his advisor and back to the Priestess. She looked so innocent sitting there, and yet…
“Now then… What abilities have you inherited? List all of them as best you can, please.”
”It would seem as if I've inherited some… type of psychic abilities. I… can feel others, sometimes influence them a-as you've seen.” The priestess explained, her tone sounding… tired and dulled. As if she were answering quickly in a bid to escape after what she'd caused.
“What of your weaknesses?”
”I-I can't control my abilities… but otherwise… I don't know yet.”
And what brings you to Dawnhaven?”
”I was wandering after I woke up… and I could… feel, I guess, my sister. So I followed her, and wound up here.” For a brief moment, a short of color flooded her cheeks, as if embarrassed by this admission.
Flynn made a mental note to speak with Dyna about the matter of her sister as soon as possible.
“Excuse the next few questions, Priestess, but it is customary. Are you willing to abide by the laws and customs of our town?”
”Of course. A good priestess would never break such rules.”
“Can you co-exist peacefully with the humans and other blight-born here? You are not permitted to feed on anyone in Dawnhaven. This is a sanctuary, and I expect you to treat it as such. Do as you will with the people outside of Dawnhaven, but if you are caught, there is nothing I can do to help you. You will be at the whim of the King of Lunaris. I advise you try to find other means of sustenance, not humans.”
”I-I shall certainly try! I… think our Radiant Lady still has work for me, so I shall perform.” She said softly, looking away as she once more pondered what method of feeding she'd inherited.
“To live here, all must contribute to the wellbeing of Dawnhaven. Are you willing to do so?”
”I am.”
“Can I assume that you will be able to continue your work as a Priestess of Aelios for the people of Dawnhaven?”
”Yes, I am both a Priestess and a trained Healer. I can diagnose and address various ailments, illness or physical. I can also give spiritual guidance.” Ranni said softly, a hint of irritation in her tone for a brief second, as if the Priestess resented the implication that her current status might've affected her profession.
Flynn nodded, “You and your healing abilities have already proven to be of great importance here, and for that, you have my deepest gratitude.” He paused, giving her a slight bow of his head out of respect before meeting eyes with her once more.
“Welcome to Dawnhaven, Priestess.” He said, watching Ranni rise from her seat and head for the door.
“Dyna, could you come in for a moment?” He called out, projecting his voice so that it reached the Champion he knew was waiting diligently for her twin sister just outside the door.
Dyna had barely gotten a chance to check on her sister, just enough to notice the utterly defeated look upon Ranni's features. Enough to have driven the Champion to already be halfway towards the door when the Prince asked for her to enter. A mere moment later, the Champion in her brilliant golden armor stepped into the room and allowed the door to shut behind herself. Standing just behind the chair Ranni had no doubt been sitting in, the Prince would find his own gaze met with a resolute gaze. Giving nothing away, despite the heavy hand of protective anger in her heart. ”I should remind you, your highness, ‘tis customary to refer to me via my title. I've done naught to earn the trust usage of my name would imply between us.” The Champion said firmly, her tone even to avoid coming across as chiding the Prince, merely repeating the customs drilled into her mind.
Flynn leveled his gaze with hers, but didn’t speak.
Orion, on the other hand, allowed his eyes to track Dyna as she crossed the threshold, taking in the set of her jaw and the carefully contained quality of her anger. He understood it. A sister walking out of that room looking the way Ranni had looked. The impulse to push back at something, anything, was not difficult to read.
But Flynn had nearly suffocated twenty minutes ago.
"Protocol noted," Orion said, his tone even. "Though I'd suggest the Prince has earned a measure of good faith this evening."
”You wished to see me?” She asked after a moment of silence, deciding it better for now to ask her sister what happened instead of simply making assumptions. For now, Dyna decided to hear out the reason for her summons… after all, she'd be a liar to say she wasn't curious…
“Yes,” Flynn began, sitting up a touch straighter in his chair. “It concerns your sister.” He studied the Champion intently as he spoke, trying to find what emotions might surface behind that rigid wall she’d been built behind.
“Her blight-born powers are out of control.” he said evenly. “She’s invaded the Princess's mind once before. Just now, she did the same to me. I saw what I believe was the memory of her death.” He paused, letting that sink in for a moment.
“By the end of it, I could barely breathe. She was suffocating me.”
His gaze shifted briefly toward his advisor. “Had Orion not intervened, she might’ve killed me.”
His attention returned to Dyna.
“The Priestess has already proven herself very valuable, and I don’t believe she knows when her power is overtaking her.” he continued. “But good intentions don't lessen the danger she poses.”
His tone remained calm and steady, though the exhaustion pressing behind his eyes seemed to harden slightly around something he left unspoken.
“She needs guidance. People who better understand this transformation and what it takes not to succumb to it. I’ll be asking the Sages to help her, and I intend to find another blight-born capable of teaching her control before someone is seriously harmed.”
His gaze held hers firmly.
“I tell you all of this because you are her closest source of support here.” A slight pause. “She’s going to need it.”
As the champion listened to the Prince's words, she felt the barest hints of anxiety form in her gut. Ranni, possibly the most gentle soul Dyna could think of, had nearly killed the Prince. Yet at the same time, there was something unsaid in Flynn's words that the Champion did not like. For the briefest of moments, a flash of concern shown in the Champion's eyes, even as her jaw set. Her protectiveness over her sister took hold for a moment before it was crushed down. Replaced once more by the stoic neutrality she wore mere moments before.
A simple nod after a long few moments of silence heralded the start of her reply.
”I see. I apologize, as I am certain Priestess Ranni has for intrusions.” He said, her own gaze holding his own, unfaltering. ”And I appreciate the candor, your Highness.” She said, pausing a few moments as she seemed to debate her next words.
”However.” She began, straightening herself slightly. ”The very logic you apply to the Priestess, can be applied moreso to both your family and my Church. At any moment, a single individual in either of our organizations can give a single order and innumerable will die.” She said, pausing for only a moment. ”Priestess Ra- no, my sister is scared, she is dealing with something that could not have been prepared for. She has shown both regret over what she has caused, and a desire to control it.” She said, still holding his gaze as she allowed the unshakable warrior she'd been trained to be to show in her eyes.
”We appreciate the offers of assistance, and happily take you up on them. We will do everything in our power to help my sister learn control, and minimize any risk she poses in the meantime.” She said, hoping she was doing an adequate job at showing she was agreeing to terms he'd set out thus far, words had never been her strong suit.
”Out of respect for your willingness to let her try, and your previous candor, I shall be candid as well. I have heard similar conversations to that which we just had. Typically, they've ended with suggestions of pre-emptive action to nullify a danger.” She said, holding his gaze.
”Until it is proven there is intent behind Ranni's danger, I will not accept such an action against her. Either as a Priestess under my guard or as my sister.” She said, before realizing who she'd just threatened, and color filled her cheeks. Flynn lifted a brow ever so slightly – the first expression he’d shown since Dyna had begun speaking.
Dyna finally allowed her gaze and tone to soften before speaking again. ”That being said, your highness, I do apologize if I have misread the intent in your words. If you truly saw what you claim, then you understand why I must be protective of her.” She finished, lifting her head slightly after she did, preparing for whatever response he'd deemed necessary.
“You didn’t misread my concern.” Flynn’s gaze held hers steadily. “But you did misread my intent.”
Silence settled briefly between them.
“Seemingly, the Priestess regrets what happened. She wants to do better. That’s precisely why we’re having this conversation instead of a very different one.” Flynn watched her for any movement — any shifting of emotion behind her eyes. “If I believed she intended harm, Champion, we wouldn’t be discussing tutors and sage oversight.”
Not a threat. Simply a fact.
His eyes drifted toward the door through which Ranni had departed.
“You don’t need to convince me that she’s frightened. I saw– I felt enough to understand that much.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze returning to her.
“Dawnhaven was built to help those affected by the blight. I intend to stand by that.” A brief pause. “I have no intention of harming her.”
His gaze flicked briefly to Orion. His advisor, his friend — affected by the blight too. Flynn returned his attention to Dyna.
“But Dawnhaven’s safety comes first. The Priestess — your sister — is dangerous. Without intent, but dangerous nonetheless.”
The weight of responsibility pressed heavy over his shoulders. The people of Dawnhaven had already been gravely affected by a dangerous blight-born.
He’d already failed to protect them once.
“Helping her learn control isn’t a punishment. It’s the difference between giving her a future and leaving her to a world that will not hesitate to decide it for her.”
Orion held Flynn's glance for a second before looking at Dyna. "He means it," he said quietly without elaboration. He had been exactly where Ranni was now, dangerous without intent, and had ended up in this room because someone had decided he was worth the risk. Besides, his role here was not to fight the champion's battles or the prince's. It was to ensure that when words failed, something else remained, like trust perhaps or the faint possibility of it.
“Then I apologize for my speaking out of turn, your Highness.” Dyna replied, her tone softening just slightly from before. “I daresay on her behalf that the Priestess appreciates your generosity and will work towards control of her newfound abilities.” The Champion added, with a small bow of her head. “And… thank you. From a concerned sister, this time, not a guardian.” She said finally, speaking softer and with a hint of more emotion in her tone than usual.
