The Muse

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Jail

"Ha!" Zeph burst into laughter at the prisoner’s suggestion of dropping a key, the sound bouncing off cold stone walls. "How dumb do you think I am?" he grinned, his tone laced with mock offense. "C'mon, I’m not as daft as I look. You wound me!" he said, putting a hand theatrically over his chest as if the idea had actually hurt.

Shifting his position, he pushed himself upright, the humor beginning to fade from his expression as Gadez’s words started to sink in. “Let’s backtrack.” he said, hazel eyes narrowing as he tried to piece together the odd and cryptic bits of the prisoner's monologue.

"You mentioned a dark-haired boy earlier—the 'wolf.' Are you saying this boy is the one who attacked the Princess?" he asked, a brow arched in curiosity. "What’s his connection to you? Why would he come after you?" He paused, the pieces not quite fitting together. "And what’s his interest in the Princess? You know where she is?"

The playful tone from before was gone, replaced by a genuine interest in answers. Still, Zeph wasn’t naive enough to expect a straightforward reply. Riddles seemed to be Gadez’s preferred language.

Before Gadez could answer, something else clicked in Zeph’s mind. “Wait…” His expression shifted, brows furrowing as he recalled another detail. “Younger brother?” he echoed, his gaze locking onto Gadez, who lounged smugly on the pathetic excuse for a bed. “You talkin’ ‘bout the Prince?”

His tone carried a sharp edge of skepticism, though he couldn’t help himself as a wry smirk curled onto his lips. “You another one of Auric’s so-called bastards, then?” he asked, the amusement creeping back into his voice. “Ah… Aren’t we all?”

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Collab between @The Muse and @c3p-0h
_{Location: The Royal Home}

Part II

---

Amaya was no longer warm where he touched her — she was burning, set aflame by the feel of his skin. All her senses were heightened, attuned to the sound and smell and touch of him. She felt so much, it was dizzying. She wanted to catalogue this moment piece by piece. The calluses on his hand, holding the nape of her neck. The quiet, breathless joy in his voice. The wave of his fine strands of hair against her fingers, contrasting with the scratch of his beard on her palm. The way her lips tingled with every silent promise he breathed into her.

She wanted this moment. Just this. Was it small enough to keep hidden away in her heart?

Her hand flattened against his chest. The steady beat of his heart answered her: no, this was not small. This was the avalanche that felled the forest as it claimed the mountainside, and now she stood in the settling dust.

He stood with her.

Her eyes drifted open. She could barely see him. He was so close that he surrounded her, blocking out the candlelight. Amaya couldn’t find her voice. She was afraid of what she might say if she did — a quick rebuttal to protect herself. A request for promises she was terrified to hope for. Or worst of all, the truth — that Flynn, this audacious man who felt, and protected, and consumed her so thoroughly that it took her breath away, made her want to forget what it had ever been like to be alone.

Amaya’s hand slid down his face, just enough for her thumb to find the swell of his cheek. It drifted over his skin and she marveled at the feel.

‘He is mine.’

The thought reverberated through her. Then she tilted his face towards her again for a soft kiss. It wasn’t his summertime heat and overflowing life. It was quiet and tender like the winter, with all the frail honesty she could give him.

Flynn faintly smiled against her lips as he returned her delicate kiss, trying his best not to eagerly overpower her. A nervousness in his chest caused his heart to skip a beat, though, in tandem, a sense of relief coursed through him. Her touch, her kiss, the way she allowed herself to lean into him—she wanted this, too. The pull between them wasn’t one-sided.

This feeling was so foreign, one he couldn’t remember ever feeling—giddy, anxious, breathless, all at once. In the past, everything had been so straightforward when it came to women. Effortless, even. Women had wanted him, and he had known it. That certainty had always stripped away any nerves that might have come.

But this… this was different. Intoxicating. His heart pounded against his chest, and he knew nothing—not a single past experience—could ever compare to the way this felt.

The soft, enticing sounds that had escaped her lips echoed in his mind. A new craving arose, a desperate need to hear her again, to be the cause of that delicious surrender. His lips returned to hers, capturing another kiss—slow, measured.

But then, begrudgingly, he pulled away, lips lingering just above hers as if he struggled with the decision. After a few moments, he took in a deep, steadying breath. He had to stop himself. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability, not after everything she’d just endured. As much as he wanted her—more than anything—he couldn’t think only of himself.

Opening his eyes, his hand slipped behind her back, gently pulling her against him. She held herself stiffly at first. Then after a moment’s hesitation, she let herself relax in his hold. He knew she could hear the nervous rhythm of his heart, something he so rarely allowed to be revealed. Yet, with her, he didn’t seem to mind. Somehow, the vulnerability felt right.

For a moment, he simply held her, savoring the way she fit so perfectly in his arms, her head resting beneath his chin. Every fiber of his being ached to kiss her again, with every ounce of passion he felt, but he forced the feeling down.

His voice, low and gentle, broke the quiet. “Please,” he whispered, his words a tender plea, “don’t put yourself in danger like that again. My heart can’t take it.” His arms tightened ever so slightly around her, as if he were afraid she might slip away from him at any moment.

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmured, “Together.” His hands shifted, one threading into her hair while the other pressed against the small of her back.

“He’ll never take anything from you again.” He tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing her temple, a silent promise that she would never have to face the world alone again.

Amaya squeezed her eyes shut as she breathed him in. His words landed heavy in her heart. He sounded so… certain. Her father loomed large in her mind, his shadow darkening her entire world. Amaya curled her legs under herself, trying to find a position that would let her stay here, wrapped in his arms. When she was satisfied, she sank into him again. Flynn’s arms tightened around her, securing her to him, as if he alone could keep her there. As if his promises could be kept.

Even if Flynn could stand against a King – especially one as ruthless and cruel as her father – there were other dangers in the world. The blight consumed more and more every day. There was still blood on Amaya’s sleeve and pain in her arm. Even their marriage, the thing that had initially brought them together, had only added time to the ticking clock that measured their lives – time that had allowed Amaya’s heart to be unwillingly bound to the one that now beat against her ear. The sound of it anchored her, even as she worried. It was loud and quick. For all of his confidence, he was affected by this, just as she was. She sighed into him, savoring the feel of his hand in her hair, his strong arm holding her to him.

She was still grieving her mother. She was terrified for Elara’s safety. And now Flynn… Flynn and this thing between them that was too big for her to keep. Amaya had learned long ago to hide her wants, her joys. She knew better. The only protection against loss was to create the illusion that there was nothing left to take.

But there was too much now. She hadn’t thought she would survive losing her mother. What would the next heartbreak do?

There was quiet for a long moment as they sat wrapped around each other. Flynn’s fingers idly combed through her hair, the repetitive motion grounding him as much as it seemed to calm her. Yet, his thoughts began to drift to the mountain of challenges before them, spiraling through endless corridors of doubt.

“This is all very upsetting,” she murmured, even as she nestled closer to him. Amaya tried to hide behind her light words, to create space that might obscure her fears. Her hand smoothed over his chest, a soothing motion. She wasn’t sure if it was for his sake or hers. “You should’ve been easier to hate.” How desperately she’d tried.

Flynn’s gaze flicked down to her, his lips curving into a cocky smirk. “You didn’t think the Golden Prince of Aurelia would really be that easy to hate, did you?” he teased, though the title felt bitter on his tongue. It always had.

His hand paused briefly in her hair, the smirk softening as his thumb traced along a loose curl. “I'll give you credit—you had me convinced.” His tone was playful, but the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes betrayed just how much her disdain had stung his ego. “I guess I should thank you for keeping me humble.”

After a beat, his voice dropped, quiet but curious. “What did you know of me, before all this?”

Amaya paused at his question — her question, used against her. Another wave of insecurity swelled. “They wouldn’t tell me much. I was kept from modern political life in Lunaris, let alone Aurelia. The most I had was gossip.” He already knew she’d lived her life trapped behind the palace walls. What more could the depth of her ignorance reveal?

“You were handsome and cocky.” There was a slight teasing edge to her voice. “A potentially dangerous rival when you took the throne until… something changed.” Amaya’s hand slid up his chest to find the slope where his neck met his shoulder and she gave a small squeeze in apology. Whatever had caused the shift in the nobles’ perception, she couldn’t imagine it was something Flynn wanted to remember, let alone discuss.

She remembered the first time she’d heard one of her father’s cabinet members refer to him with mockery rather than gravity a year ago. It had caught Amaya so off guard that she’d paused to look at him fully. She’d spent all night cursing herself for the reaction – the man had realized his mistake immediately and redirected the conversation to something inane. Her curiosity, her desperation for knowledge felt callous now.

“My father agreed to the marriage so easily, I expected the worst… but my mother said you’d be kind. I suspect that’s why I didn’t freeze you on the spot.”

She thought of Flynn, the first time she saw him. Looking every bit the dashing Prince with his elegant Aurelian suit and practiced smile, he’d held her hand and slipped a ring on her finger. He’d looked back up to meet her eyes, his hand tightening slightly around hers – and there’d been a flash of vulnerability.

Amaya had been furious.

“Though it was a near thing.”

Flynn tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more genuine. "Your mother must’ve been a good judge of character," he said lightly. "It seems I owe her my life."

His gaze dropped briefly to where strands of her dark hair slipped through his fingers, the candlelight casting soft, golden hues across it. After a beat, his sly smile returned. "Or maybe," he added, his voice taking on a teasing edge, "you just couldn’t resist how handsome and cocky I was."

“I could still do it, you know,” she lied.

Softly, he took her hand, cradling it in his before lifting it to his lips. His gaze flicked to hers, a flicker of mischief dancing in his eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand—a Prince honoring his Princess. All that had happened between them today, and this simple act still caused her cheeks to darken. His lips lingered for just a moment longer than necessary before he lowered her hand, resting it carefully between them.

Grazing his thumb over the delicate skin of her wrist, his gaze settled on the faint marks of her injury, and the light in his expression slowly dimmed. His touch stilled, the faint smile falling away as the weight of reality crept back in. His brow furrowed slightly, though he remained silent, and pulled her a little closer. As if proximity alone might shield her from harm.

Amaya pressed herself back into him as she felt him graze the edge of her half-healed wound. Her voice was careful when she spoke again.

“Elara will need to be guarded. I… upset him. He threatened her for it.” And he’d promised to return. “Nothing can happen to her, Flynn.”

Flynn’s gaze hardened, a cold anger coiling deep within. His jaw tightened as he gave a curt nod. “I’ll double the watch for her, too.”

His voice was steady, deliberate, but an unmistakable tension simmered beneath the calm. “What did he look like?” he asked, curious if this had been a blight-born he had already given the pass to—if he had failed. “Did he give you a name?”

Flynn had gone very still around her. She knew this stillness — not on him, though.

“It was the man from the feast,” She said, her nerves starting to rise again. His face flashed through her mind, his voice, the blood. “He was shorter than you, young, pale skin, dark eyes and hair. But by the end he was… changing.” Her pulse started to drum in her chest, even as she tried to hold her reactions as tightly as possible. “It was like he was withering away.” Until he’d torn Sir Abel’s face away and gorged himself on blood. “He said his name was Rezith Branshaw.” Amaya’s voice sounded very far away to her own ears.

Flynn clicked his tongue at the mention of the man from the tavern, his gaze shifting to the ceiling as a scoff of disbelief escaped him. ‘Of course,’ he thought, his mind reeling. Of course it had been him. The vermin who had looked at her with that gaze Flynn had despised. He should’ve known.

Anger coiled tighter in his chest, but he forced himself to focus on Amaya, to breathe, to push aside the building fury. Shifting his gaze back to her, all that fire almost completely snuffed itself out. He knew that look.

He could see the shadows of those memories in her eyes. His heart twisted with guilt, his own failures threatening to swallow him whole.

“Look at me,” he whispered as he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing softly over her skin.

Amaya did not flinch. She didn’t gasp. She put herself in as small a box as possible, and when she looked up at him with a neutral expression, the only sign of her distress was the way her breath seemed shallower than normal. But she couldn’t stop the brief flash of emotion in her eyes when they met his, even as she tried to smother it.

He couldn’t help but smile faintly when her eyes met his again—those vivid, endless depths of pale blue, like frozen lakes bathed in moonlight. She was beautiful in a way that hurt.

"You’re safe here." he said quietly, a tinge of sorrow reflecting behind his own eyes as he looked at her. The blade of guilt twisting in his chest.

Leaning forward, he pressed a light, tender kiss to her forehead. She let out a shaking breath. “Rest,” he murmured, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away. “It’ll be okay.”

Then, with care, he began to move, removing his heavy jacket and tossing it over the bedpost.The soft thud of his boots hitting the floor followed as he kicked them off. His hand moved to the sword sheathed at his side, and with a practiced motion, he unbuckled it, laying it carefully along the edge of the opposite side of the bed—still within reach, but far enough away to let them settle into the moment.

When he turned back to her, her boots were carefully lined up on the ground and her coat was folded on the bedside table, the sleeve tucked away to hide the stain. Her narrow shoulders were straight and stiff. She was looking down at her arm in her lap.

Most of the dried blood had flaked away by now. There was only the thickest layer left, scabbing around the entry point where the blight-horn’s blood had torn into her. Almost her entire forearm below the quarter sleeve of her dress was covered in a speckled bruise, her brown skin dotted with the red and purple of burst blood vessels. Her fingers drifted over the watercolor stain.

Shifting behind her on the bed, Flynn gently guided her to lay down with him, pulling her in close. She hesitated, before silently obeying. His chest pressed against her back, fingers brushing over her waist.

Wrapping her in his arms, his mind raced, the tension coiled within him refusing to fully dissipate. The image of that man's grin, looking at Amaya, haunted his thoughts. He did everything he could to push it aside, focusing instead on her—the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, the soft scent of her perfume, the way every curve of her body fit against his.

She melted against him, bit by bit — like she was trying to fight it off, only to find that it was a losing battle. Cocooned in his warmth, his heavy arms holding her to him, his breath dusting the top of her head like a gentle touch, there was little she could do against it. When she finally drifted off to sleep, she was soft and safe against him, with her fingers loosely threaded through his.

It was enough to quiet the storm inside him, if only for a moment. At least, for now, all that mattered was this.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Jail

As the Champion leveled her accusations, Zeph arched an intrigued brow. Threats against either King weren’t taken lightly, and even he knew better than to speak so recklessly about royalty. This man was brash—or perhaps just plain foolish. Likely both.

Zeph’s gaze shifted to the prisoner behind the bars, taking in the smug smile and sharp remarks he flung at the Champion’s back. When she paused to offer Zeph an Aelios blessing before making her exit, he couldn’t suppress the smirk that played at his lips, entertained despite himself.

For a brief moment, silence followed, but the prisoner seemed more than willing to fill it.

Turning his full attention onto the man, Zeph leaned casually against the wall, his amusement growing as the man launched into a theatrical spiel. Gadez certainly lived up to the Champion’s warning—he liked to talk. Granting him with the audience he so desperately desired, Zeph listened, his expression shifting between skepticism and entertainment.

When Gadez unapologetically doubled down on his accusations rather than backpedaling, Zeph chuckled under his breath. There was something to be said for a man who stood firm on his convictions. Still, while Zeph could certainly sympathize with a distaste for King Auric—and, frankly, the Aurelians as a whole—he couldn’t imagine letting that dislike consume him so thoroughly. It seemed exhausting. Life was too short to be bogged down by grudges and grand schemes.

Eventually, the incessant flow of words prompted Zeph’s gaze to wander to a stool tucked in a corner. Deciding he might as well get comfortable, he pulled it over and seated himself a few feet from the bars. From here, the torches lining the hallway flickered a faint amber glow across Gadez’s face, casting shifting shadows into the dark cell that seemed to suit the man’s performance.

As Gadez finished with a bow, Zeph let out a laugh. “Bold, aren’t you?” he said, his tone laced with mirth. His smirk widened as he leaned forward, resting his elbows casually on his knees. “Zephyros.” he introduced himself with a slight gesture towards his chest. “I’ve gotta give ya credit. Takes guts—or maybe just a complete lack of self-preservation. Hard to say.”

Keeping his gaze fixed on Gadez, he wondered what sort of gardener or performer would harbor such a burning grudge against the King of Aurelia—and why? And did this sentiment include the Prince?

Though Zeph found the man thoroughly entertaining, he was far from trusting a single word that left his mouth. Zeph had noticed his muscular build, now hidden beneath the man’s shirt—far more defined than any gardener or performer Zeph had ever encountered. And that tattoo… a design unlike anything he’d seen before. But for now, he tucked those observations away, deciding to keep his cards close to his chest.

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Zeph asked, ignoring Gadez’s earlier question about what had brought him to Dawnhaven. “What is this place really, Paladice?”

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Outside Elara’s Home

Wanting nothing more to do with that old ghost from her past or the strange wolven creature, Kira veered off in the direction the Prince had taken, her steps quiet as she retraced the path toward Elara’s home. She moved slowly, as if she were on a casual stroll, though her eyes scanned the shadows.

Faint voices echoed behind her—the guards, gathering in numbers and shuffling toward the scene of the attack. They could fumble around all they liked, piece things together and chase shadows. Their investigation held little interest to her.

What did concern her was Elara.

If a feral blight-born had attacked the Princess, then Elara was entangled in this mess—whether by choice or misfortune. Kira knew all too well that witnesses to such events were seldom left breathing. The fact that they were alive at all was a miracle.

Slipping off the main path, Kira took a longer route back towards Elara’s home. She scanned every corner, her ears tuned in to every crunch of snow or rustle in the wind—though the residential streets seemed fairly undisturbed.

Once she reached Elara’s home, she rounded a corner and settled along its side, leaning her back against the wooden wall with crossed arms. She stayed there, hidden, vigilant—listening and waiting.

Moments later, she heard the front door open. The Prince emerged, carrying the Princess in his arms. Kira listened intently as Flynn gave Elara instructions to find the Sage—Lady Hightower who had always been too afraid to meet Kira’s gaze.

Her eyes flicked in the direction of the Alchemy Chambers, noting the faint flicker of candle light resonating from the windows in the distance. Hopefully, she was there, and Elara wouldn’t have to travel far.

As the Prince and Princess moved down the path toward their own home, Kira watched quietly from her hidden vantage point. Amaya was utterly limp in his arms, but alive, cradled like something fragile. The metallic tang of blood reached Kira’s senses again, causing her pupils to dilate ever so slightly.

‘What’ve you gotten yourself into, fawnling?’ Kira thought, her expression unreadable.

Remaining still, Kira listened for Elara—waiting to hear the door close and the latch to lock. When it finally came, Kira allowed herself a small, subtle breath of relief, glad that Elara had heeded her warning. Whenever Elara would emerge again, Kira would be sure to tail her, however far she needed to be to keep her darker instincts at bay.

If she did anything of use today, she was determined that it would be to ensure Elara’s safety. It was the least she could do.

---

_{Mentions: Elara @Qia, Amaya @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Alchemy Chambers

After Nathaniel’s departure, the quiet of Eris’s home felt more like a companion than a void. They had made decent progress preparing for the expedition, but now, she was alone with only her thoughts again—just the way she preferred it. For the first time in what felt like weeks, she allowed herself the indulgence of slowing down.

She began by washing up, the steaming water from the washbasin a welcome luxury. As she scrubbed away the remnants of sleepless nights and ink-stained fingers, her mind wandered, momentarily free from the tether of her studies. Despite her best efforts to resist it, her thoughts strayed to Nathaniel and the dance they had shared. Her nose wrinkled at the thought, a faint grimace forming as the memory lingered longer than she’d like.

These feelings were fleeting, she reminded herself—nothing more than a byproduct of the loneliness she felt in a place so foreign. A weakness of human nature she was not immune to. The memory stirred something she didn’t care to name, an unwelcome vulnerability she swiftly pushed aside. Instead, she focused on water, letting it envelop her like a shield against intrusive thoughts.

Wrapped in a soft robe, she moved through her chambers, lighting a few candles to bathe the room in a warm, flickering glow. A steaming mug of tea in her hands, she sank into the comfort of her armchair and pulled a woolen blanket over her legs. After the chaos of her lab, the moment felt almost decadent. As if it was out of her control, her thoughts briefly returned to Nathaniel—his genuine interest, the comfort of having someone around who seemed to care as much as she did.

Still, she cherished her solitude, basking in the freedom—unshackled by watchful eyes or unspoken expectations.

Flipping open a well-loved book that she hadn’t touched in months, Eris let herself be drawn into a world far removed from her own. The hours slipped by unnoticed, the tension of the past week unraveling with every page she turned. Every so often, she paused to sip her tea or listen to the soothing crackle of the fire, feeling content in a way she hadn’t for days.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold, her body curling into the warm cocoon of blankets. The week she’d spent depriving herself of rest catching up to her quickly. She read a few more lines, but her eyelids grew heavy, and before she knew it, she surrendered to the pull of sleep.

…

Knock Knock Knock

Eris jolted awake, her book slipping from her lap and landing open-faced on the ground. Her heart hammered against her chest as she tried to orient herself, blinking at her surroundings in confusion. How long had she been asleep? She glanced out the window, but it offered no answers—just the same endless pitch-black night that had cloaked the world for the last six months. Letting out a shaky breath, she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

Pulling the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, Eris bent down to retrieve her book, carefully closing it and setting it on the nearby end table before padding toward the door. She cracked it open just enough to let her face peek through. Standing on the other side was a young courier, his brown hair messy and freckled cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Lady Hightower,” he greeted her with a polite smile, bowing slightly. “I’ve a letter for you.”

Curious, Eris nodded and took the letter from his gloved hands, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” She closed the door softly as he left, shivering against the draft that had slipped in. She turned the letter over in her hands, examining the seal before heading back to her armchair. Once settled under the flickering candlelight, she opened the letter and began to read.

Once she finished, Eris frowned, her fingers brushing over the signature at the bottom. A pang of guilt twisted in her chest, recalling her initial reaction to Sya’s transformation—no, double transformation. The thought of that tail still made her uneasy, but the letter’s warmth and humor reminded her how much she valued Sya’s friendship.

Her brow furrowed at the mention of Orion—the Prince’s right-hand man, a constant presence during Flynn's interviews with the blight-born. She’d seen him in the Alchemy Chambers countless times, though she’d never gone out of her way to hold a conversation with him. Although he seemed perfectly stable, the glow of those red eyes had always made her nervous. He had always seemed so serious, and she began to wonder what he was up to with Sya—she was far from serious.

As for Kira, the sharp-fanged redhead with those fiery eyes... Eris shivered, though Kira had never done anything to hurt her. Eris couldn't recall her ever even cracking a smile, but surprisingly, Kira had complied with most every research request. Still, the way that woman’s eyes settled upon her always set her on edge. How had Sya made a friend out of her?

With a sigh, Eris folded the note carefully and slipped it into the cover of her book for safekeeping. She sat for a moment longer, clutching the blanket around her, before deciding she needed to summon some shred of bravery. If Sya could navigate so much change with such grace, then surely Eris could muster the courage to visit her. She owed Sya that much.

Rising, she made her way upstairs to get dressed, her nap and brief relaxation giving her just enough energy to face the rest of the day—or so she hoped.

---

_{Mentions: Sya @PrinceAlexus, Nathaniel @Echotech71, Orion @Qia}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder

“You’re very kind, thank you.” Nyla said warmly as she accepted the room key from Sya and watched as the snake-woman refilled her glass of wine. Sya’s cheerfulness was infectious, reminding her of the many other tavern owners she had come across in her travels. The cheerful ones had always been the most successful.

As Sya excused herself to tend to the other patrons, Nyla’s gaze wandered to the people gathered around the bar. A sea of unfamiliar faces. Yet, one figure drew her attention, causing her eyes to linger over the edge of her wine glass as she took another drink.

He stood out effortlessly—dark hair and amber eyes contrasting beautifully against his muscular and caramel-toned skin. For a moment, she entertained the idea that he might be from her homeland in the southeastern deserts of Aurelia. Nyla tilted her head slightly, curiosity piqued. Her eyes lingered on him, her mind weaving possibilities as she watched his interactions from across the bar.

The man exuded confidence, that was plain enough, but the Lunarian guard he spoke to with such familiarity broke her hopeful idea of a shared origin. A pity, she mused, coming to the conclusion that he was simply just a strikingly beautiful man.

Losing interest, the weight of exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders. It had been a long journey, and an emotionally exhausting day already. Deciding it was time to rest, she drained the last of her wine and slipped away from the bar, heading for the stairs.

On her way, her eyes caught a red-haired woman weaving through the crowd, headed straight toward Aldrick. Nyla couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She paused, watching as the bard easily turned his charm on the woman, leaning in to hear her words.

For a moment, Nyla allowed herself a flicker of warmth at the sight. Despite everything, women still swooned over the bard who could weave them sweet melodies. ‘Good for him’ she thought—some things never changed.

Spotting one of the inn’s workers at the base of the steps, Nyla hurriedly approached. “Excuse me,” she called out over the noise of the tavern to grab their attention. “Would it be possible to have a bath prepared?” she asked, desperate for the answer to be yes. She’d been dying for one.

The brunette woman nodded, agreeing to her request, and Nyla excitedly followed her up to the room she’d been assigned.

Once inside, Nyla took a moment to absorb her surroundings as the woman headed towards the bath. The room was simple, a far cry from the luxury she’d enjoyed in the Astaros palace walls, but cozy. At the very least, a reprieve from the chaos of the tavern below and a shield from the frigid air outside.

Mercifully, the woman worked quickly, using a spell to heat water, and she was gone just as soon as she had come. “Thank you,” Nyla said softly, offering a small smile before seeing her out, locking the door securely behind her.

As the latch clicked, a sigh escaped her lips. She leaned back against the door for a moment, feeling the illusion she’d worn for too long finally dissipate. If she continued like this, she’d need to find another soul to feast on sooner than expected. But how? Dawnhaven was meant to be a sanctuary, a place where people were protected from the likes of her.

Crossing the room, she shrugged off the coat she’d been wearing, letting it drape over a chair. Briefly, she wondered if Sya’s inn offered a laundering service—something she’d need to ask about later. Stripping off the rest of her clothing, she left them in a pile on the floor, and excitedly padded over to the tub.

The water was perfectly warm, and as she sank into its depths, Nyla let out a soft moan of relief. Briefly, her bliss was interrupted by the reminder that her body had changed. Her wings fit awkwardly against the tub's curvature, and she let out a small huff of irritation as she adjusted herself. A minor inconvenience, but something she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to.

Despite the annoyance, she finally allowed herself to relax, letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes. She savored the moment as heat enveloped her, soothing sore muscles and melting away the cold that had clung to her for weeks. In the water, the world’s troubles felt distant.

She could stay here a while.

---

_{Mentions: Sya @PrinceAlexus, Elio @c3p-0h, Aldrick @SpicyMeatball, Thalia @Qia}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Jail

Zeph made his way back toward the eastern gate, helmet held under one arm. Each exhale turned to fog in the crisp night air as his mind circled back to his interaction with Nesna. He had taken a chance by trusting her, letting her walk free instead of locking her up. It was a gamble, sure—but then, Zeph had always been a gambling man, and something about her didn’t scream criminal to him. Aliseth probably wouldn’t be pleased when he found out. But luckily for Zeph, he didn’t really care what Aliseth thought.

As he scanned the area, several guards rushed past him, heading west—toward where Abel had lost his life. A heavy sigh escaped him, the weight of guilt pressing like an iron hand on his chest. Abel’s death would forever hang over him like a storm cloud. The urge to draw his sword and join the search for the blight-born that had killed Abel tugged at him, but he knew he’d already spent too long away from his post. If he wanted to keep a job, he’d better get back to the gate.

"Hale!" a familiar voice barked. Zeph paused, turning to see the archer from the gate shift earlier, jogging towards him with a torch in hand. Their joint shift had likely rotated out by now.

"They’re looking for you," the other guard said, stopping a few feet away and slightly out of breath.

Zeph furrowed his brow. "Me? Why?"

The archer shrugged. "Volkov’s orders. Said you’re wanted for watch at the jail."

Zeph groaned. “Of course.” he muttered under his breath, already pivoting toward the half-finished jail. That old man had a knack for making Zeph’s life harder in subtle, irritating ways. If their shift had rotated, then Zeph should’ve been off-duty by now, yet here he was, trudging towards the jail.

As he arrived, he looked over the building, lit up by torchlights and surrounded by guards and construction workers alike. Parts of the roof were still incomplete, but the cells were operational. A guard stationed at the entrance gave him a nod.

“Am I taking over for you?” Zeph asked, scrutinizing the guard under the torch light. What manner of illness had this man befallen that he couldn’t complete his shift?

The guard gestured inside. “You’re on prisoner watch. Enchanter’s on the way.”

"Prisoner watch?" Zeph muttered with a hint of annoyance, his brows knitting in confusion. ‘They already caught Abel’s killer?’ He thought as he stepped through the stone doorway, boots clicking against the floor as he made his way to the back of the jail.

Opening the door to the holding area, his gaze landed on a blonde-haired woman in radiant armor, unmistakably that of an Aelios Champion. She stood at the furthest end of the hall, glaring at a man lounging behind bars. ‘Shame someone that stunning is so devout—especially to Aelios’, he thought, crinkling his nose slightly at the sight of her armor.

“Guess I’m here to relieve you, eh?” Zeph asked as he approached, his eyes flicking between the prisoner and her. “Can’t imagine this is your usual scene. Seems a bit beneath you.” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice and a playful smile to match.

“So, what’s this guy in for? Besides showing off... or are you here just for the show?” The man behind bars looked smug, shirtless as he did sit-ups and stared back at the Champion. Zeph raised an amused eyebrow, the scene almost making him burst out laughing. There was no way this guy was responsible for Abel’s death. Perhaps he was just a drunk from the tavern, sent here to sober up.

Zeph cocked his head and smirked. “You cold in there, buddy? Or is this your idea of impressing a Champion of Aelios? Futile, by the way—I tried it once. Trust me. Not a good idea.”

The prisoner smirked back, but before he could retort, the door at the opposite end of the hall opened. Soft footsteps echoed, and Zeph turned to see an older brunette woman enter, her hair streaked with faint silver threads. Her brown eyes darted around the room as she introduced herself, though she barely made eye contact with any of them as she bowed her head.

“Enchanter, at your service.” she said softly, lifting her head only briefly to meet their gaze. “Give me a moment, please.”

She moved past them and to the corner of the wall, pulling out a piece of charcoal from a satchel. “Didn’t think I’d have to do this so soon,” she muttered to herself before getting to work. Zeph watched as she scrawled precise and intricate runes horizontally along the wall, her fingers steady. As she shuffled down the length of the back wall, she muttered some kind of incantation under her breath, too softly for anyone to hear, her expression entirely focused on the runes.

Gradually, the runes glowed to life, a lavender light pulsing brightly before softening to a faint hue. A strange sensation crept over Zeph, and his gaze narrowed on the enchanter. With each rune that illuminated, the air grew heavy, his limbs sluggish, and an invisible force drained him. By his sides, he flexed his fingers, unsettled by the sudden void where his magic used to hum faintly under the surface. Though he had never heavily relied on his limited magical ability, its absence felt wrong all the same. Anti-magic fields had always unsettled him—an unnatural intrusion that never ceased to feel fundamentally wrong, no matter how often he encountered them.

The Sage finished her scrawls along the interior walls and slipped out the door as quietly as she’d arrived, continuing the runes along the exterior. Zeph’s smirk returned despite the heaviness in the air, turning his attention back to the Champion. Waiting for her to break the silence, his eyes glinted with mischief, met only with her steely and unamused gaze.

---

_{Interactions: Dyna @Queen Arya, Gadez @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Elara's Home > Royal Home

Flynn listened intently as Elara spoke, his brows furrowing deeply. Images of the unknown faces he'd left Amaya with before his departure flashed in his mind. Which of them had done this? None of them had appeared outwardly blight-born. Was it someone entirely different? Unease twisted in his stomach. When she mentioned Amaya being injected with the blight-born’s blood, a look of disgust flickered across his face. He cast a glance at Amaya, lying motionless on the floor, a wave of worry sweeping over him. What had the blood done to her? Blight-born were completely unpredictable. There was no telling what it could do to her now or in the future.

“I can’t lose her either,” he said quietly, barely registering the familiarity of Elara calling him by name, too consumed by his thoughts and the sight of Amaya before him. Turning his attention back to his wife, he studied her face again, as if he expected her to cry out in pain at any moment.

"I won’t let this happen again," he said, though he didn’t know if he fully believed the words himself. What could one man, even a prince, do to protect her in a world as unpredictable and dangerous as this? But he did know he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. He had to. He had brought her out here to try and save her life, not let her die at the hands of a blight-born.

A part of him cursed himself for ever leaving her side. He should have brought her with him to see the Priestess. Though he wouldn’t have felt right trying to control Amaya in such a way, at least she would have been safe. If she had remained at his side, this could have been avoided. ‘Damn it.’ he thought bitterly, guilt squeezing his heart.

Gently, as if she might break under his touch, Flynn slid his arms beneath Amaya’s limp frame and effortlessly lifted her into a princess carry. Holding her close to his chest, he stood to his full height, her head resting against his chest. She didn’t move, and the worry in his face deepened.

“I’m going to take her home to rest.” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument, his decision final. Turning to Elara, his green eyes met her pale blue ones, the intensity in his gaze mirroring hers. “You did well, Elara.” he said, his voice sincere. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

Adjusting Amaya slightly in his arms, he gestured with his head toward the door. “Could you open it for me, please?”

As she opened the door, Flynn stepped out into the chill and glanced back. “Find Eris Hightower, the lead Sage. She lives just west of here. In the tower. Tell her to come to our home, could you?” he asked, the request coming off a bit more like an order.

Before leaving, their eyes met one last time and Flynn gave Elara nod, a silent acknowledgement of her efforts. He didn’t know how, but he’d find a way to repay Elara for this. Somehow.

Stepping out into the snow-dusted streets, Flynn tightened his hold on Amaya as she stirred. Unconsciously, she shifted closer to him, her face pressing into his chest as if seeking his warmth.

Flynn glanced down at her, taken aback at her sudden movement—one more intimate than she had ever granted him in the past. Pushing the emotion aside, he focused on her safety and comfort. Drawing upon his dwindling mana reserves, he summoned a thin barrier of warmth that enveloped them both, shielding her from the biting winter air and the snowflakes that drifted down around them.

As he neared their home, a guard spotted him and immediately straightened. The soldier’s face was a mixture of shock and confusion, his eyes darting to the Princess and then back to the Prince. “Your Highness! What can I do?”

“Open the door.” Flynn commanded as he walked past the armored man. The guard obeyed without hesitation, moving quickly and holding the door open wide. Stepping inside, Flynn said over his shoulder, “Get a fire going and light the candles.”

“Yes, sir.” The guard responded, rushing to fulfill his orders and disappearing toward the living room.

Flynn didn’t stop. He carried Amaya up the stairs to her room, his foot nudging the door open. Stepping inside, he glanced around the room, dim and quiet. A space he had rarely ever entered. Carefully, he lowered her down onto the bed, her head resting on the pillow.

For a moment, he sat on the edge of the bed, his green eyes scanning her face. She seemed peaceful, but the dark stain on her sleeve was a stark reminder of what had happened. His jaw clenched. Whoever the blight-born was, he’d find them. And they’d pay.

With a shaky breath, Flynn adjusted the blankets around her. His expression softened as he whispered, “I’m sorry…”

---

_{Interactions: Elara @Qia, Amaya @c3p-0h}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Forest Crime Scene

Beneath the pale light of the moon, the forest seemed almost serene, quieted after the departure of Katherine, Daphne and Nathaniel. Gentle snowflakes drifted down from the sky, settling atop the icy stalagmite or melting into the blood pooled beside it. From beyond the clearing, curious eyes observed, drawn to the unnatural creation made from Amaya’s magic, yet too fearful to venture closer.

Yet, near the base of an ancient pine, a brave creature stirred.

Once a squirrel, it skittered out of the forest's shadows with twitching, erratic movement, sniffing the ground fervently. Glowing orange eyes, devoid of their pupils, darted around the clearing as it approached the icy structure. Mangy fur, matted with dark clots of blood, hung loosely over its oversized frame, its decaying flesh emitting a faint, sickly odor. Large claws scratched into the frozen earth as it moved, while the occasional clicking of its teeth echoed eerily through the forest's stillness. The ears—scarred and frayed—twitched at every distant rustle, giving the impression that it was both prey and predator, eternally listening, eternally hunting. Sniffing the crimson-stained snow, the creature chittered, then began to lap up the pool of blood into its mouth.

Suddenly, the creature froze. Its ears pricked forward, glowing eyes growing wide as the faint sound of crunching snow drifted to it from the north. With a jerky rhythm, it rose onto its hind legs and sniffed the air, now towering at four feet tall.

Crunch

Instantly, the creature’s head snapped in the direction of the sound with unnatural speed. Its gaze pierced through the darkness, spotting the silhouette of a soldier accompanied by a wolf.

The creature’s jaw unhinged like a snake, revealing rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth. With its eyes set upon Valthyr and Adonis, a guttural hiss tore from its throat, low and venomous. Crouching, its muscles coiled with unnatural strength.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, like a shadow given life, it launched forward.

---

_{Mentions: Coswain @PrinceAlexus, Valthyr @Fetzen}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder

Nyla blinked, momentarily taken aback by the transformation the blight had wrought on the innkeeper’s appearance. A petite woman with a large singular eye that stared back at her, and a serpent's tail adorned shimmering blue scales to match. Nyla had seen the grave effects of blight before, but this felt profound for someone who seemingly still clung to their humanity.

For a fleeting moment, she couldn’t help but marvel at how comfortable this woman seemed to be in her new form. Her tail swayed to the Aldrick’s music and the aura around her emanated with positivity. She was confident, even playful, as if she had long since accepted the cards that had been dealt to her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sya.” She said, quickly recovering, her practiced smile slipping back into place—as though nothing about Sya’s appearance had fazed her. The art of smiling through any situation had always been one of her strengths. “I’m Nyla. Nyla Zafira.”

As Sya pulled out a map of the rooms, Nyla leaned slightly closer, taking in the options as they were presented. Her eyes skimmed the map, her brows briefly furrowing as she considered her choices. After a moment, she tapped her finger lightly on the map at room #1. “I’ll take this one,” she said, raising her gaze to meet Sya’s. “Thank you.”

Straightening, she glanced briefly through the lively tavern, her gaze naturally drawn to Aldrick, still performing with his magical instruments at the far end of the room. After a few moments, her attention shifted to the staircase leading up to the rooms before returning to Sya once more.

“Is it always this busy in here?” she asked Sya with a playful tone, taking another small sip of her wine.

---

_{Mentions: Sya @PrinceAlexus}