The Muse

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}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Zeph’s House > Eye of the Beholder | Collaboration with @enmuni

Nesna plucked her discarded shift off of the floor with a look of disgust. It looked nothing like the article she’d died in all those years ago. The formerly light fabric was covered in innumerable stains, busted seams, tears, and all manner of other flaws. She grimaced as she dropped it to the floor again, and resolved to keep the towel wrapped around herself. At least that was clean. After a moment’s hesitation, she walked through Zeph’s bedroom and cracked open the door enough to call down the hall.

“Zephyros, might I ask if my shift is tailored?” she projected, “I’ve come to realize the one I brought is in no shape to be worn!”

Zeph looked up at the sound of Nesna’s voice, her words pulling him out of his concentration. His eyes drifted to the garments laid out on the table in front of him, surrounded by scattered threads, needles, and fabric scraps. His fingers throbbed faintly from the numerous times he’d pricked himself with the needle—more times than he’d care to admit. He shook his head with a small sigh, the work taking longer than he’d anticipated. The articles of clothing were far finer than any of his own clothing, and the pressure to do them justice weighed on him. His grandfather would’ve been done with this fifteen minutes ago. It had been a long time since Zeph had done this kind of work though, and the rust was proving difficult to shake.

Still, he’d made progress. The shift was finished, at least. His stitches weren’t as quick or clean as his grandfather’s would have been, but they were sturdy and even, the seams mended and reinforced. He picked it up carefully, the silky fabric feeling strange against his calloused hands. Normally, he was taking these off, not handing them back.

“Uh—yep! Coming!” He called back as he rose from his seat and carried the garment down the hall. Goddess, this felt odd.

As he moved down the hall, his eyes met hers. She hid behind his door, wrapped in a towel, and for a moment, he struggled to keep his thoughts in check. What did she look like beneath the towel? The intrusive thought was quickly shoved aside, and he forced his focus back to her face.

“Here,” he said, extending the shift toward her, careful not to let his gaze wander. “I, uh… hope it’s to your liking.” He stepped back slightly, giving her some space, and gestured vaguely toward the hall. “I still need a bit more time with the dress, though—maybe ten more minutes? If you don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Nesna responded, taking the white shift up in one hand, “I cannot express how helpful this has been. Take as long as you need.”

She closed the door for a moment, dropped her towel, and pulled the shift up around her. These things were meant to be quite loose, but, so she gathered, she hadn’t quite finished growing by the time she’d left. With her tail pulling just a bit more at the back, it was a touch clingy around the hips. It didn’t yet feel inappropriate, but it did feel odd. Perhaps at some point she could simply buy some new clothes, since these were clearly only so salvageable.

“I’m decent now,” she offered as she began to reach behind herself to do up the buttons. Her arms bent back in ways which were almost unnatural, with both hands able to touch every spot of her back and begin doing up the buttons.

Giving her privacy, Zeph returned to the kitchen and dropped into his chair, leaning over the dress spread before him on the table. He flexed his fingers a few times, trying to loosen the lingering stiffness, then picked up his needle again and went to work.

The next fifteen minutes were a quiet and focused blur, losing himself in the motions, the faint crackle of the fire providing a meditative ambiance. He worked methodically, double-checking each stitch, smoothing the fabric, carefully measuring and adjusting as needed. Occasionally, his mind wandered to her earlier words—I cannot express how helpful this has been. An odd mix of pride and unease settled in his chest. It wasn’t often he got to use his skills for something like this anymore.

Unbidden, his thoughts inevitably wandered to his late mother. He could still picture her sitting by the window in the family shop, the sunlight catching on the thread in her hands as she hummed softly. Those memories felt distant, almost dreamlike, but the motions he now went through brought them closer, like echoes from another life. It was odd how natural it felt, even after so many years, though the ache in his hands reminded him he was no longer as practiced as he once was.

Finally, he tied off the last stitch, gave the panel one last inspection, and set the dress down with a quiet exhale. It wasn’t perfect—not by his family's standards, anyway—but it was good. Solid. Functional. And, he hoped, beautiful enough to make Nesna feel like herself again. Plus, it didn’t hurt to have a blight-born on your side. Maybe when she got hungry, she’d remember that he had provided her with this service.

He stood, stretching his back and rolling his shoulders, before picking up the dress and heading back to his room. Stopping in front of the closed door, he raised a hand and gave it a gentle knock. “Nesna? The dress is ready now.” After a moment, he leaned against the doorframe and added, “Oh, and, uh… did the other garment fit okay?”

“I believe so, but if I might trouble you, I’ve never fitted clothes on my own before. The tailor always told me whether it fit and I abided, comfort or not,” she began, pausing for a second, “Granted, I think it’s comfortable. Certainly better than the rips. Ah, why don’t you see? It’s hanging to my calves and not sheer; I can’t imagine it’s any more improper than my imposition and bathing here.”

Nesna pulled open the door while stepping back. Nesna gestured to her hips with a frown as she continued.

“This—this tail of mine!” she sputtered, seemingly catching herself before cursing, gesturing to other parts of her as she spoke, “It’s—do you see what it’s doing? My old one was a sleeping garment—much looser than this one. But now it’s in the way. Do you imagine we ought to cut a hole for it or something? It—ah—I can’t decide whether it’s worse for it to be a bit form-fitting here or to have a tail out. Because, well, I suppose it fits me everywhere else.”

Nesna offered a half-smile half-grimace as she then gestured to her torso. The shift was quite conservative, well-fitted to her chest but offering little detail beyond the curve there indicating that she did, indeed, have some amount there. It curved slightly inward for her waist, having clearly been tailored to her at some point so that it would be flattering without being particularly tight. Just above her hips, it started to get tighter, and then hit the widest point where the fabric, relatively loose elsewhere, seemed almost fully taut.

“But what do you think?”

As Nesna opened the door, his gaze immediately drew to the shift and the way it hugged her body in all the right ways. Modest, but undeniably flattering. The faintest mischievous smile tugged at his lips as he met her eyes, words spilling out before he could stop himself.

“I think you’re right—you should take it off.”

His smirk grew slightly as he held her gaze, entirely unashamed of his comment, though her glowing sets of eyes quickly brought him back to reality. She was blight-born. Not exactly a wise choice. A wiser man might have considered the implications, or the danger. Then again, when had he ever made wise choices? What he was currently doing was proof enough.

Nesna looked back at him in a confused silence. Her expression oscillated between an awkward little smile, a tight-lipped frown, and a blank, confused expression as she asked herself if she had indeed heard him correctly. After an awkward moment of her composure breaking, Nesna pulled it together, resolving to act under the assumption that she’d misheard him. What would “Take it off” mean in these circumstances anyway?

Before Zeph’s thoughts wandered too far, he stepped into the room and moved around her, eyeing the shift once more—though with a more critical eye than before. His eyes flicked to where her tail strained the back of the shift. Despite his “best” efforts, his gaze lingered briefly—not just on the problem at hand but on her form beneath the garment.

Finally, he nodded, “I see what you mean. It’s not bad, though—it fits you well. But if the tail’s making you uncomfortable, then cutting a small hole for it is no problem.”

Circling back around to face her, he offered the dress. “Why don’t you try this on too? Decide if you’d like to make adjustments for it as well.” As she took the dress from him, he turned to leave. “I’ll grab my scissors in case you decide to go for it,” He said, slipping out of the room.

In the kitchen, he sifted through the cluttered table, picking through sewing tools until he found his fabric scissors. For a moment, he thought of his grandfather—how the old man had always approached his craft with an almost sacred detachment, professional no matter the situation. Zeph smirked faintly to himself. Professionalism was all well and good, but where was the fun in that?

Returning to the bedroom, he leaned casually against the doorframe, just in time to see Nesna pulling the new dress up. His gaze followed the fabric as it settled into place, and this time, his smile softened into something more genuine. “It looks great,”

“Thank you,” Nesna responded, with a clear hint of skepticism lingering in her voice. As she contorted her arms once again to do up the buttons above her wings, the dress revealed itself as the more stylish garment. The thick velvet fabric, a vibrant peacock-blue in color, offered a sharp contrast to the white linen shift it was covering. Although even more thorough in its coverage, the dress did pull in a touch more around the chest and in the waist than the shift did, giving a better impression of Nesna’s shape other than the fact that she did, in fact, have hips.

Nesna did a little spin once she finished buttoning herself up, and then placed her hands on her hips.

“I grant you, the more that I think about it, I feel as though my wings also ought to have sleeves or something—they’re appendages just like arms. But then that, and the tail—I think sleeves would look silly on them, nevermind getting in and out of things.” She clicked her tongue, sighed, and added, “Oh, I’ve taken enough of your time already. I think my tail out would look sillier anyway. And I don’t want to trifle with this any more anyway; it’s probably unwise.”

Nesna held her hands up, admitting defeat, “Yes, I can have someone else take a look at it if it keeps bothering me. Maybe I can have, oh, a bit of extra fabric in the back added to future dresses or something. In the meantime, I’m sure I’ll stretch it a bit. I think it looks fine, right?”

There was a clear noncommittal inflection in Nesna’s voice, as if she was as much trying to convince herself out loud as she was communicating her thoughts to Zeph.

“It’s beautiful. It suits you.” Zeph said with a nod, his tone warm as he assured her. His gaze lingered for a moment as he studied the dress, imagining what she might have looked like in it before her transformation.

Pushing himself off the doorframe, he added, “If you change your mind, there are a few tailors in town who are skilled enough to handle more serious alterations.” He paused and added with a slight smirk, “Though I’ll warn you, they’re not me. Tailoring isn’t my day job, but hey, I’m versatile.”

Turning away, he strode back to the kitchen and set the scissors down on the cluttered table. Beginning to tidy up the tools into organized piles, he called back to her, “Can I escort you back to the tavern? I’m headed that way. Probably should get back to work before they realize I’m gone again…” His voice carried a hint of humor in it, though his tone grew more serious as he added, “And I should help with whatever is going on with the Princess…” He shrugged, then paused, glancing back down the dimly lit hall to meet her eyes.

“If I were you, I’d stay inside the tavern until that gets sorted… just a bit of advice.” He hesitated for a beat, considering his words. “Kane seemed pretty keen on pinning you as a murder suspect…” He frowned, unsure of what had come over his brother in arms. Aliseth had never held love for blight-born, that much he knew, but Aliseth’s actions earlier felt far too aggressive.

So far, there was no real evidence that would point at Nesna being the killer. From Zeph’s perspective, she didn’t seem like the type. She didn’t carry herself like a murderer—no fidgeting, no shifty glances, no odd or unsettling comments, no signs of the guilt he’d learned to spot over the years. Then again, he’d be a fool to underestimate a blight-born. Perhaps she felt no guilt at all. People had surprised him before—he’d learned the hard way not to judge a book by its cover—and now he knew better than to assume innocence based on feeling alone.

Still, until someone brought concrete proof, he wasn’t about to throw her in a cell. That wasn’t how he operated, and he’d be damned if he let baseless accusations dictate his actions. He had always marched to the beat of his own drum, no matter how much trouble it seemed to get him in. For now, he’d keep his guard up, but Nesna wasn’t his enemy. At least, not yet.

“Just be careful.”

Nesna did up her shoes and then followed Zeph into the kitchen. She looked at him with a warm, if melancholic smile, not unlike the one she had given her dress when she offered it to him. She said nothing for a moment, then spoke. Her tone was soft, as it had been before, but carried a greater steadiness and confidence. Nesna stood taller than she had before, carrying herself with some semblance of the pride she must have once had.

“You are nothing but a blessing. I would be happy to go to the tavern, if only you might indulge me for a moment,” she offered, “I must insist on treating you—if not now, then some other time. Oh! And if I might be so forward, please do help me pawn another pair of nothing-earrings so we can get your commander a gift or something, so as to apologize for the inconvenience and make sure you aren’t in any trouble!”

Nesna drew two small circles in the air with both hands as she spoke, bringing her bags floating in next to her. The bag she produced earrings from floated in front of her, and from it she pulled a fresh pair of gloves and a pair of golden studs.

“Do you imagine these little things should be enough to get him something decent?” she asked while pulling on one of her gloves.

He shook his head with a light smile, raising his hands in gentle refusal. “You’re generous, but I can’t accept,” he said, his voice warm but firm. “It’s better if my commander doesn’t know I took you here, anyway—trust me.” he said with a quiet chuckle. He’d surely get put on stable cleaning duty if Valkov ever found out about all the niceties one of his soldiers had provided this woman (creature) with.

“Besides, that old bastard doesn’t deserve anything that nice.”

Grabbing his helmet from where he’d left it, he tucked it under his arm and walked to the door. “You can repay me by not causing any trouble here, alright?” He glanced back at her for a moment before swinging the front door open and holding it for her, the cold night air creeping in.

As Nesna stepped outside, Zeph followed, closing the door behind them with a quiet click before locking it. Walking alongside her, he headed toward the tavern, his gaze lifting to the sky where snowflakes drifted down lazily, vanishing as soon as they touched the ground.

"I'll let the Prince know you've arrived when I can," he said, his eyes still on the sky. "He likes to personally interview every blight-born who comes to town. Something about making sure they’re... civil enough, I guess." He shrugged lightly, glancing at her with a half-smile. "You’ll be fine, though."

Nesna let out a subdued chuckle and looked at Zeph with a gentle smile. He had been so kind to her, for seemingly no apparent reason. But it obviously wasn’t any sort of trap—it couldn’t have been. No, what all of this must have been was some strange welcome, impromptu, but genuine. Had guards in fact been selected on the basis of decency, or was Zeph simply a gentleman amongst brutes? No matter—his escort was welcome all the same. Nesna stuffed the earrings back into the appropriate bag as she guided them alongside her.

“If you say so,” she conceded, “I’m so terribly rusty, but talking to you has been excellent for warming up…

By the way, I want to apologize for my outburst earlier. It was improper of me to be so…harsh in my response to your fellow guard.”

Zeph chuckled softly at her words, his breath visible in the air. "He’s had worse thrown at him. He deserved it, anyway." he said lightly, though a flicker of seriousness crossed his face as his gaze shifted to the road ahead. "It wasn’t right how he was treating you—murder suspect or not."

He glanced at her briefly before continuing. "He’s not usually like that." Zeph sighed, his steps slowing for just a moment as his thoughts turned inward. "Seeing another soldier die… It shakes you. I’m sure that’s what’s got him on edge."

A pang of guilt hit him, but he pushed it aside, refocusing on the road. As they neared the tavern, his brows knit slightly at the sight of the sparse guard presence. Only one soldier stood at watch posts, instead of the usual two-man shifts. He could guess where the rest were—headed toward the murder scene.

Nesna sighed. Her breath produced no cloud in the air. She turned to Zeph and seemed to think for a moment of what to say. Hesitantly, she gently patted him on the shoulder. Her expression was calm, if a bit grim.

“I—I understand. I haven’t seen a comrade-at-arms die, but I have seen my own funeral,” she commented, her tone strangely serene, almost parental, “I must imagine it’s at least as difficult…

Now, before I forget, if you ever do think it might be helpful, I should tell you that I’ve a knack for psychic magic. If the memories of who did it are anywhere in his head—if he saw them out of the corner of his eye or something like that—I may be able to pull the memory up. I’ve done such things to myself many times. The Princess is still my liege, after all.”

Nesna pulled her hand back from Zeph and offered him a sympathetic smile.

Zeph glanced at her hand on his shoulder, then raised a brow at her mention of psychic magic, the faintest flicker of intrigue crossing his features. Turning his gaze back to the road ahead, he gave a small nod.

"I’ll ask Aliseth if he’s open to that." he said, though deep down, he doubted it. Aliseth’s reaction to Nesna earlier was proof enough that he’d probably resist the idea. Still, it wasn’t something he’d dismiss outright. Silently, he hoped for the best case scenario—Aliseth had done as he was asked and found a Psychic user to prod his mind already.

"Thanks for the offer." he added as they rounded the corner to the tavern. The music and hum of conversation drifted through the air, the patrons inside still blissfully unaware of the lurking danger. Candlelight danced in the frosted windows of the tavern, casting a soft glow onto the snow-covered ground outside.

"Here we are." Zeph said, gesturing to the front door with a small smile. "It was a pleasure, Nesna. Remember to stay out of trouble for me." He winked playfully before opening the door to let her enter.

“What a darling place!” she exclaimed, “And a gentleman you are indeed!”

Nesna beamed, clearly enjoying the treatment. She turned to Zeph and offered a quick curtsey.

“I could not have hoped for a better welcome,” she cooed with a keen grin. She squinted her right eyes and lifted her left eyebrow, almost imitating a flirty expression, “I’ll behave myself, you can be sure of that. But I surely wouldn’t take offence to you checking up on me some time~!”

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Elara's Home

Flynn barely waited for Elara to open the door wide enough before slipping past her, his eyes laser-focused on the room beyond. His heart pounded as his gaze landed on Amaya, curled up motionless on the floor. Relief and dread battled for dominance within him. She looked so small and fragile, a stark contrast to the fiery strength he knew she could possess.

For a breathless moment, fear gripped him, imagining the worst.

Without sparing a glance at Elara, his boots echoed softly on the wooden floor as he swiftly crossed the room. Dropping to one knee beside Amaya, his usual composure dissolved, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

His movements softened as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, gently tucking it behind her ear. Cupping her face in his hand, his thumb traced a tender line over her cheek as he studied her features, his heart clenching at the sight of her vulnerability. “Amaya…” he murmured, his voice low and barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

For a moment, Flynn simply knelt there, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed as he looked over her. The flickering light of the fire cast shadows across his face, deepening the lines of worry etched into his brow. His mind raced with questions, but he forced himself to focus on the immediate—on the steady rise and fall of her chest, proof that she was alive and not teetering on the edge of life and death.

When she stirred, pressing her cheek against his palm, the tension in him eased fractionally. He exhaled shakily, a small, fleeting relief washing over him. His hand lingered there for a moment, caught between his desire to hold her and his fear of causing her discomfort.

Finally, he carefully withdrew from her, his fingers curling into a fist against his knee as Elara began to speak. He looked up at her, gratitude flickering in his eyes. “Thank you, Elara.” His voice carried genuine appreciation, but it was clear his thoughts were still consumed by the sight of Amaya.

His mind raced, cataloging the possibilities of what could have happened. The blood Kira mentioned still vivid in his thoughts. He glanced back at Amaya, the room falling quiet, save for the fire’s soft crackle, as Flynn surveyed the rest of her body.

Finding a dark stain of blood on her sleeve, his jaw tightened, green eyes narrowing. The sight of it sent a jolt of cold anger through him, the gentleness of his expression completely replaced by a fierce protectiveness for his wife.

“What happened?” He asked sharply, his voice low but taut with tension. “Who’s responsible for this?” He gestured to the stain on her sleeve, brimming with quiet anger.

---

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder

Alone again.

Breathing in deeply, Nyla leaned her back against the door that led into the tavern, where Aldrick had returned more than fifteen minutes ago. With her head tilted upwards, she watched stars twinkle across the sky, and slowly released her breath.

Aldrick had comforted her, but something hollow still ached in her chest. Gripping at her heart and twisting at the most inopportune moments. Her hand instinctively brushed over her heart, as if she could physically ease the weight. She closed her eyes, taking in another steadying breath.

With a subtle shift of her head, she felt her horns scrape across the wooden surface of the door. Her brows instantly knit together, disturbed by the reminder of their presence. Holding her breath, she clenched her jaw before exhaling softly, opening her eyes to the night once more.

Alone. That’s what she needed to be. Though, preferably where the cold didn’t seep into her bones.

Straightening, she focused on the delicate threads of magic coursing through her body and began carefully pulling at them. Slowly, the illusion of her human form wove itself back into place. Aldrick had accepted her—Dawnhaven likely would too—but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not yet. This thing was not her. It didn’t feel like her skin.

She sighed with relief as the illusion settled. Though the strain of upholding the facade weighed on her, this appearance felt right—safe.

Pulling the tavern door open, she stepped inside, warmth and noise rushing over her. Holding her head high and pulling her shoulders back, she attempted to appear more confident than she felt. Luckily for her, she had been practicing for this role all her life.

Returning to the main room, Nyla’s eyes scanned the room, drawn instinctively to Aldrick. He weaved magic into melodies and drew smiles from the crowd with effortless charm. She paused for a moment, a faint smile touching her lips as she watched him in his element once more. His attention was fully engrossed with the crowd, just as it always had been.

As a waitress hurried past with a tray of drinks, Nyla deftly swiped a glass of red wine, the action smooth and clearly not the first time she had done it. She sipped as she maneuvered through the packed room, her gaze darting over the sea of patrons in search of the front desk. If she wanted to be alone, she’d need a room first.

Eventually, she found it near the front door, though it was unsurprisingly unattended. She figured the inn was likely short staffed, and any employees they did have probably had their hands full at the moment. So she waited, leaning a hip against the desk, crossing her arms and holding her wine glass, her eyes flicking back to Aldrick. Letting the music fill the empty spaces in her mind, she sipped her drink to maintain her buzz.

Several minutes passed before anyone noticed her. When a brunette waitress with an armful of dirty glasses hurried by, Nyla stepped forward to catch her attention. “Excuse me,” she said, her tone polite but firm enough to break through the crowd noise.

“Sorry,” Nyla said, offering a sheepish grimace as she gestured to the tray of dishes. “I was hoping someone might help me rent a room?”

“Of course,” the waitress replied with a quick nod. “I’ll grab Miss Leela for ya.”

“Thank you,” Nyla said with a small smile as the woman rushed off.

Leaning back against the desk, Nyla’s gaze returned to Aldrick’s performance. She swirled the wine in her glass, the smooth hum of his melodies distracting her from the persistent ache in her chest. For now, she let herself sink into the moment, content to wait.

---

_{Mentions: Sya @PrinceAlexus}