The Muse

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Collab between @c3p-0h, @Dark Light, @PrinceAlexus, & @The Muse
_{Location: Outside the Jail}

Part III

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

Amaya’s pulse jumped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too easily stilled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lives.

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

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

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

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

“I do not want it.”

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

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

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

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

It’d been a gift from Elara.

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

Then she drew back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for your service, Knight Kain.”

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

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

A brief pause.

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for your service.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Western Residential District}

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t much. But it could be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nyla exhaled slowly.

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

This would do.

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

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

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Eye of the Beholder}

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

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

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

Frozen, Kira stared at the coin.

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

Not just any coin—hers.

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

“Heads… or tails.”

Kira, only fifteen, trembled on all fours.

She spat blood. Watched it stain snow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snow crunched.

She’d taken too long—again.

He was kneeling in front of her now.

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

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

She had tried. She really had.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heads!” she blurted.

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

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

And then—black.

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

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

She drew a slow, unsteady breath.

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

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

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

Then, finally, she looked up.

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

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_{Interactions: Kat @SpicyMeatball}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: Eye of the Beholder}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only that he needed to.

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

From across the room, Kira followed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But would it ever?

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

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

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

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

Now seemed like as good a time as any…

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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_{Location: The Jail}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Replace her as a god.”

Sacrilege cloaked in philosophy. Madness disguised as vision.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t know. Not yet.

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

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

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

“Enjoy the cell.”

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: The Jail

Eyes narrowed, Flynn stared back at the man behind bars—green meeting blue, oceans colliding. Neither wavering.

“You speak as if you know me.” he said at last, letting the statement hang in the air for a beat. “I am not so thoughtless as to never question my own family. Or the clergy.”

Annoyance burned in his throat, but he kept it buried—barely managing to keep his tone neutral. He tried to keep Amaya in mind—her way of using silence and words like precision weapons. Or keeping peace in the name of survival, when danger lurked behind every corner. Like the threat staring back at him now.

“Why do you think any of us are here?” He questioned, voice flat. “If I never questioned them, this town wouldn’t exist.”

The words were bitter on his tongue. Speaking ill of the clergy was reckless, though he assumed most already knew his stance. He’d pleaded to delay the prophecy, after all.

But the thought of speaking his true opinions—recalling the things he’d seen—coiled deep inside his chest, causing his muscles to tense.
He could've said more, but didn’t.

“If I were never to question, the Princess and I would already be dead. My child orphaned."

Frustration simmered, a dull spark lit—bleeding ever so slightly into his voice.

“Do not presume to understand me. My wife. My family. Or hers.”

Carefully, Flynn chose not to speak of his own loyalties. The puppeteer had blown right past the question anyway, but Flynn wasn’t about to bare such truths to a stranger who spoke openly of regicide either.

Truth was, he didn’t yet know where his loyalty ultimately laid. And a leader, he knew, needed to be sure of their words.

But for now, that uncertainty didn’t matter. Peace had lasted among the two nations for fifty years. He had no intention of breaking it. The marriage between the heirs had been unifying, in a way.

What mattered now was curing the blight. Returning the sun to her proper place in the sky. And keeping Amaya and himself among the living.

Nonetheless, Halcyon's words gnawed at him. The man seemed determined to make Dawnhaven more significant than Flynn had ever intended it to be. An interesting thought—a dangerous one.

Something the Aurelian Prince didn’t wish to entertain—couldn’t entertain.

But something sharp dragged along the edges of his mind anyway.

If they cured the blight and somehow returned the sun… what then? Where would he and Amaya go from there? Would they stay in Dawnhaven? Would Amaya’s father allow it? Would they return to Aurelia? Would she even want that?

Flynn pushed the thought away and refocused on Halcyon. He needed to stay present. Not give in to the seeds of doubt Halcyon was attempting to plant. Not let his mind spiral on the unknowable future—not when there were so many variables.

Not when he could very well be dead within the month, and none of it would matter at all.

The man’s talk of blight and the goddess—her physical form absorbed by a mortal?—sounded like something ripped from fiction. The ramblings of a fanatic cloaked in allegory.

“If we ‘accept’ the blight and do nothing, we’ll all die,” Flynn said coldly. “There is no guarantee of survival. And you’d have us welcome it with open arms? Let millions be consumed?”

His brow furrowed, disgusted by the mere thought.

Halcyon seemed content to sacrifice so many lives across the continent… for what? So that those reborn might live on and rule over ash for a time?

Without the sun, without human, plant or animal life—the blight-born would be just as doomed.

This wasn't a brilliant vision for a brighter future. This was delusion.

Flynn peeled his gaze away, glancing down the empty stone hallway. His mind caught on the mention of what lay beneath the capital. The forbidden reaches below the Aurelian palace.

Had Halcyon seen it somehow—or was this another wild swing, another thing he so boldly claimed to be fact without proof?

It didn’t matter. Flynn had heard enough. His patience was thinning. His time was better spent elsewhere—not listening to the musing of a mad man.

Sighing, he returned his attention to Halcyon, staying just beyond reach of the bars.

“Why should I release you?” he asked, getting straight to the point. “Why not let you rot here? Or call upon my father’s forces and let them drag you back to Aurelia—to answer for the violence you so clearly intend upon the crown?”

---

_{Interactions: Gadez @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Collab between @The Muse and @SpicyMeatball
_{Location: Alchemy Chambers}

Part II

---

Eris peeked out from behind Charlotte’s shoulder, breath still caught in her throat—until she laid eyes upon the tall figure standing beyond the doorway.

Zephyros!

Relief crashed over her like a wave. Her fingers loosened their grip around Tia’s hairpins, the tension in her chest began to ease, the sputtering embers of her magic quieted.

"Guard Hale?" she breathed, the words escaping in a soft exhale. The name grounded her, steadied her pulse. A tentative smile bloomed across her face as he met her eyes and gave her an easy smile in return, casual and reassuring as ever.

“Apologies… something… something just happened and you gave us a scare,” she added gently, half-laced with a laugh that never quite surfaced. Her eyes shifted to Charlotte, still tense, blade unwavering. “It’s okay, Miss Hawthorne. This is Mister Hale—I know him. He’s another guard.”

Zeph’s attention lingered on Charlotte, quietly sizing her up. Thoughts seemed to shift behind his hazel eyes, yet he let it pass without comment.

“Is there something we can help you with? It sounded quite urgent.” Eris asked, her tone more composed now, formal instinct kicking in like muscle memory. Her gaze drifted over him—no armor, no uniform. Just boots and simple winter clothing. She’d only ever known him as a sentry. It struck her as odd, seeing him like this.

Zeph turned his full attention to Eris, a lazy smile still faint on his lips—though it softened at the edges, concern flickering behind it.

“I was passing by,” he said, tone light, like he didn’t want to stir more alarm than necessary. “Saw someone drop from one of your balconies and take off into the trees.” His brow creased faintly. “I tried to follow, but…”

He paused, then lifted his left hand halfway, a sheepish grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. His wrist was already purpling beneath the cuff of his jacket sleeve, swollen and stiff.

“Slipped on some ice in the process. Think I might’ve broken something.” He flexed his fingers carefully, then winced. The grin faltered slightly. “But I wanted to check to make sure you’re alright.”

As much as Zephyros—Guard Hale—had clearly assessed her, so had Charlotte done to him. Her steely-blue eyes darted up and down his figure, then met his gaze once more. She, much like Eris had, noted that the man before them that was supposedly a guard donned no armor.

Yet the name was known to her.

This was the man that she’d most recently been assigned to.

A smirk crossed her lips as she kept her blade in place, gently prodding his chest with its tip. Not enough force to cause any harm, but enough to be noticeable.

Zeph’s gaze slowly drifted away from Eris, flicking briefly to the blade poised just beneath his sternum, then back to Charlotte. A slow smirk curved across his lips in response.

“Your arrival is convenient, Guard Hale,” Charlotte glanced to his wrist, her tone not quite one of accusation but certainly laced with doubt. Eris’ eyes nervously darted between the two—the relief she’d felt moments ago vanishing in an instant. Against Charlotte’s better judgment, she lowered her blade and planted it between her feet. Confident enough to lower it, wary enough to keep it drawn.

“Why aren’t you in uniform?” She raised a brow, “Surely you weren’t granted leave with all that happened yesterday. Especially given that there was a certain Zephyros Hale’s name written above mine on the assignment sheet.”

Amusement flickered in the golden flecks of Zeph’s eyes as he held her hard stare—interest sparked.

“That can’t be a coincidence, Guard Hale, can it? Because if that happens to be a brother of yours, I’ve got a bone to pick for leaving me alone in the cold.”

Her expression now hinted at the annoyance portrayed in her voice, Eris’ presence behind her almost completely absent from her mind. Zephyros clearly looked capable enough to have been their mystery assailant, and Charlotte wasn’t buying a broken wrist from slipping on ice for a moment.

“You Aurelians truly are bold, aren’t you?” Zeph chuckled, slipping his hands into his coat pockets—ignoring the sharp pain that shot from his left wrist and up his entire forearm. His gaze briefly shifted to the Sage, still standing silent and rigid behind the taller woman. That bright smile of hers nowhere to be found.

He almost felt guilty.

“I was pre-scheduled for a day off.” He offered at last, eyes returning to Charlotte—almost surprised that he didn’t have to look too far below his own eye level. She was shorter than him, as most people were, but taller than the majority of women who’d glared up at him countless times before.

“No one briefed me on having a new trainee until this morning.” He continued, carefully omitting the fact that no one had even been able to find him the night before. “I was actually on my way to find you. Figured Lady Hightower might’ve known you—being Aurelian and all. Turns out I was right.”

“Apologies for leaving you out in the cold, though, Hawthorne.” He added, a faint half-smile returning. “Lack of communication between our two commanders, I’m sure. I’d never leave a lady out in the cold otherwise. I’ll make it up to you.”

Eris could’ve sworn she saw something mischievous dance in his expression, despite the earnest tone of his voice. In contrast, Charlotte let out a quiet and unimpressed huff.

Nervously, Eris stepped around the armored woman, placing a gentle, reassuring hand on her upper arm. “Let’s at least get him out of the cold, Miss Hawthorne.” She said softly, holding Charlotte’s gaze. “I should take a look at his wrist.” Something unspoken passed between them. A silent plea hidden in her gaze.

Charlotte’s skepticism was palpable. But Eris had come to know the man standing just beyond the door. Zephyros had never given her a reason to be fearful of him. And yet…

She trusted Charlotte too. What did her new friend suspect that Eris didn’t? Who could she trust more? Or was it naive to trust either of them?

A thought crept in—was this tension simply due to the internal strife between Aurelians and Lunarians? It was no secret that integrating with one another had been difficult. Still, it was interesting that the two had been paired together. A step towards progress, perhaps? If Charlotte didn’t escalate.

Letting her hand fall away, Eris turned her attention back to Zephyros. Snow gathered in the dark strands of his hair, those bright eyes already settled on her. She offered a soft, hesitant smile, then stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in.

Zeph flicked his gaze back to the sentry in the door frame who still blocked his path.

With noticeable hesitation, Charlotte nodded to Eris before turning her eyes back to Zephyros. She held his gaze for a moment, head tilted upwards, before stepping to the side and stowing her sword in its place on her hip.

“Well, in you go then.” She motioned with a single movement of her head, “Don’t get any ideas.”

Zeph stepped inside, his smile growing faintly. “I would never.”

Charlotte took a quiet step back, positioning herself just off to the side of the room. She didn’t stray far—close enough to intervene if needed, but far enough to give the illusion of privacy. Her posture eased, but her eyes never left Zephyros for long. Though Eris seemed relatively calm in his presence, Charlotte’s hand remained near the hilt of her sword, her gaze sharp and measuring.

One thought was at the forefront of her mind; a slip on the ice would have to have been quite the extraordinary one to have broken a wrist.

Eris’ trust in him wasn’t enough to convince Charlotte to fully relax, even if this was supposed to be the man she was assigned to as a partner.

And yet, she’d seen the way that Eris had looked at him without fear. That counted for something. The sage was certainly no fool and her intuition had already proven itself even if it hadn’t been backed up by courage. For the time, Zephyros had earned the benefit of the doubt. If Eris trusted him, Charlotte would trust her.

“You can sit here,” Eris said, closing the door behind Zeph. She gestured toward the sitting area to their right, where a fire crackled in the hearth along the far wall—likely lit by one of the Sages who had already begun their work for the day.

As instructed, Zeph moved toward the area—a space much more familiar to him than the upstairs had been. Quietly, he settled into the armchair he typically claimed whenever the Sage took it upon herself to offer snacks and drinks during long watch hours.

“May I see your wrist?” Eris asked softly, appearing beside him with a dainty hand outstretched.

Zeph carefully withdrew his left hand from his coat pocket and offered it to her, watching as she cradled it gently in her palm and examined closer. Each time she poked, prodded or pressed, he winced. And each time, her blue eyes flicked up to meet his—apologetic, but measuring every reaction.

Slowly, she rolled up his sleeve to reveal more of the bruising. His gaze drifted to the delicate and precise way her fingers moved—his attention catching on the softness of her fingers as they grazed against the tender skin of his forearm.

As if sensing the burning of her gaze from across the room, Zeph glanced up to find Charlotte’s eyes locked onto him. He offered her a faint smile.

“You still have some range of motion.” Eris murmured, almost to herself, fingers brushing carefully along the edge of the bruise. Zeph returned his attention to her. “I don't feel any shifting.”

Her gaze lifted to meet his as she slowly withdrew her hands from his wrist. “It’s likely a fracture, not a break.”

Straightening, she turned toward the dim hallway that led to a lab, where another Sage had briefly appeared earlier. “I can’t heal you today,” she added softly—regretfully, “but another Sage should be able to.”

Zeph lifted a brow. The lead Sage couldn't heal him? Strange. But he kept his mouth shut.

As Eris disappeared into another room and out of sight, his gaze shifted back to Charlotte.

“Did you see who it was? They didn't hurt either of you, did they?” he asked, his brow creasing in feigned concern—just enough to sell it. Lying had always come easy.

“Whoever it was looked like they were in a hurry to leave.”

Charlotte’s eyes lingered on him for a moment before she shook her head slightly, “That much we agree on,” she paused, taking a seat at a table and leaning onto its surface, “No, they were gone by the time I got to the room. Lady Hightower first alerted me to the threat.”

She looked up to Zeph once again as she finished speaking, looking for any hint that would betray him but finding nothing. “It’s odd. All that effort and nothing was taken.” Charlotte held back the small detail of the gemstone for the moment. If Zeph was truly as innocent as he said, she didn’t expect him to push this particular point any further.

“Nothing?” Zeph echoed curiously, his brow drawing tighter as he painted confusion into his gaze. Briefly he glanced away, as if lost in thought over this “new” bit of information. In truth, he simply listened to the quiet shuffle of footsteps from the room Eris had vanished into.

“Must have been quite the fall you had,” She nodded towards him, intending to direct attention to his wrist, “I suggest a bit more training when you heal up. To strengthen the muscles ‘n all, might prevent such a strain in the future… especially just from slipping on ice.”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t your sword arm, the commanders wouldn’t be too pleased about that.

Zeph’s concern melted into a quiet, breathy chuckle, amusement flickering back into his eyes. “The Commanders aren’t pleased about anything.” He muttered dryly, his gaze dropping to his bruised, throbbing hand resting on the armchair.

“Appreciate the advice.” He added, tone thick with sarcasm, as he idly used his good hand to pluck out a small piece of gravel from his palm. “Since we’re partners now, I’ll make sure we train hard and often. Can’t have you ending up like me. Weak wrists and all.”

His gaze flicked up to meet Charlotte’s, a wry smile tugging at his lips. Before either of them could say a word, his attention slid to the right—where Eris emerged from the other room with an older, curly-haired brunette woman following just behind. The same Sage Zeph had seen scrawling runes across the prison walls the day before.

“Miss Hawthorne. Mister Hale.” Eris interrupted softly, her gaze shifting between the two of them. “This is Lady Penelope Rovella. She’s a healer as well.”

Stopping beside Zeph, she gestured to his wrist and looked to her older peer. “Pen, this is Zephyros Hale. He’s a gua—”

“I’ve seen him around.” Penelope cut in bluntly, her brown eyes narrowing on Zeph as he met her with an innocent smile. “You’ve a talent for making a distraction out of yourself.”

Without waiting, she took his wrist into both hands—far less gently than Eris had.

Zeph sucked in a breath as Penelope lifted his wrist and pain lanced through it. His gaze narrowed briefly on the older woman, though her attention was now fixed on her own hands wrapped around his wrist. Eris grimaced, concern etched into her expression, but she let Penelope work without interference.

As the older Sage closed her eyes and drew in a slow breath, a soft yellow hue began to radiate from her palms. Zeph watched intently, a spreading warmth rushing through his veins and leaving a tingling sensation along his fingertips. After a few minutes, Penelope opened her eyes and pulled her hands away. Zeph flexed his fingers, testing the movement, then smiled.

“Good as new. Thanks, Pen.”

“Lady Rovella.” She corrected him without looking back, already headed towards the lab.

“Thank you!” Eris called after her, though Penelope offered no reply as she disappeared into the other room. Unfazed by her peers' attitude, Eris smiled softly and returned her attention to Zeph. “Now I have a favor to ask.”

Zeph raised a brow. “That so?”

“Can you see what you can do about increasing the watch around the Alchemy Chambers?” Her smile wavered, worry flickering in her eyes once more. “The intruder didn’t seem to take anything… we think. But I… I don’t want something like this happening again.”

Zeph nodded, “Of course. Hawthorne and I will even take it upon ourselves if we have to.” He volunteered his new trainee—though from the look of it, it seemed she’d already assumed that duty on her own.

“We’ll report what we saw to the Commanders and request more soldiers to stand watch. You should speak with them about what you saw too.” Eris nodded, but Zeph hoped she wouldn’t—or at least that she wouldn’t have much to say about it.

“We should check the perimeter.” He added, rising from the armchair—his height casting a shadow over the small Sage who took a step back to give him room. Looking over her, his gaze found Charlotte. Silently, he offered a nod toward the door in lieu of a verbal command.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, standing from her place and tucking the chair back neatly against the table. A small smirk spread across her lips as she let her eyes hang on Zeph for a moment before making her way to the door.

“I know you’re technically my superior, but how are you going to be any help if you’re unarmed and… unarmored?”

“What do you think I have you for?” Zeph smirked, falling into step behind her. “You're the distraction in case I need to make a quick getaway.”

Charlotte paused for a moment at the door. Something was missing. The recruit’s mind jumped down her list of gear before her eyes widened slightly, “Just a sec, forgot my shield upstairs.”. Without wasting a second, Charlotte retrieved the keys from Eris and promptly walked across the room and up the stairs, her armored footsteps never failing to betray her position.

Finding the tower shield still leaned against the small table, she took a moment to tighten its straps onto her forearm before hefting it up to her side.

After locking the door and returning the keys to Eris, she found herself back on the ground floor, walking towards the front door once more. Relatively new breastplate shone gently in the candlelight, still free of enough blemishes to advertise her status as a recruit. Her pauldrons, bracers and boots all glistened similarly as she moved, gently clinking against each other.

“Shall we?”

Holding the door open, Zeph quietly gestured for her to lead the way, his gaze purposely lingering for longer than necessary.

Charlotte stepped outside, squinting briefly as the cold air slammed into her like a runaway chariot. A quiet cough escaped her lips as the chill reached her lungs, “I’ll never understand why you Lunarians chose to live in this…frozen wasteland. Do you actually enjoy this, or is it just as miserable as it is for me?” she called back to Zeph before turning her attention ahead.

Zeph raised a brow as he followed her out, hearing the Sage’s footsteps close behind—silently observing the pair. “This is our warm weather. I’m not sure what you mean.”

Before her, Charlotte spotted two figures approaching the Alchemy Chambers. The first of them appeared to be ever so slightly familiar, as if she’d seen him in passing during a patrol. Taller, younger looking though still older than herself, dark, medium length hair that didn’t quite touch his shoulders. Attractive enough by all accounts, were her mind in the right place.

The second figure however is what captured her attention. Surely younger than her, but the lack of color in her skin betrayed any accurate guess at her age. Four, purple glowing eyes—or what appeared to be eyes at least—stared back, though definitely aimed towards Zephyros. Behind her, inky black wings were tucked neatly against her back, but still made the recruit uneasy. She’d crossed paths with blightborn a few times, but none quite this… uniquely gifted.

Following Charlotte’s gaze, Zeph lifted his attention over her head and spotted the two—recognizing the blight-born immediately. His gaze slid to the unfamiliar man beside her. From posture and attire alone, Zeph could imagine that the man was just as polished and high-born as Nesna might’ve been, once.

Peeking her head around Zeph’s arm, Eris quickly scanned the frigid landscape, heart quickening as she searched for whatever had brought the duo to a sudden halt. What if the intruder had returned—what if they’d come to—

Her attention caught first on the blight-born woman, eyes growing wide at the unnatural violet glow that reflected off every snowflake drifting past two sets of eyes. And behind her slender figure, unmistakable despite being tucked neatly against her back, were… wings?!

Eris’ gaze snapped up, darting between both guards, expecting tension. But neither Charlotte nor Zeph seemed alarmed. Not nearly as on edge as she felt.

Still, Eris unconsciously moved closer to Zeph’s back, attention sliding to the man beside the blight-born. A flicker of recognition. Nathaniel. Relief softened her shoulders, if only slightly.

Returning her gaze to the woman, she studied from afar with growing curiosity. Even with the increasing unease inside her chest, Eris knew she should say something. She’d be expected to. She needed to smile, step forward, stand tall, and greet them like a proper host.

She inhaled, lips parting to speak.
But Zeph beat her to it.

“Nes! Should I alert Kane or are you behaving today?”

---

_{Interactions: Nathaniel @Echotech71, Nesna @enmuni}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder

“Please take care of yourself,”

Staring out a frosted window, Ivor’s voice replayed incessantly in Kira’s mind.

What exactly had he meant by that? She’d been taking care of herself for decades. It had practically been her life’s entire purpose.

A glance was all it took for most people to understand that she knew how to survive. She’d been worked down to the bone and reforged countless times to make sure of it.

Only under her complete control could anyone perceive her differently. Only when she was undercover—playing the ditz or the damsel—did she let people see something softer. Something easier to manipulate. Something that allowed her to coax secrets from the lips of men and women alike, without having to brutalize or kill them for it. The lucky few.

But Ivor didn’t seem to perceive her in the one dimensional way she’d intended.

Something shameful and angry twisted in her gut. The softness in his tone should have been meant for someone else.

She’d gotten rusty—lazy.

She blinked hard, trying to wash away the feeling of his voice. Snow fell steadily outside, and from her second-story vantage point, she silently watched as guards and civilians shifted through the snow-dusted streets of the town square. On instinct, she noted each face as they passed—some new, some familiar.

After a few minutes, her eyes caught on a woman.

Raven hair tied up into a neat bun. Middle-aged. Wearing noble Aurelian garb that swallowed up her thin frame. A stranger who bore a striking resemblance to a ghost of her past.

She blinked.

Somewhere, years ago, Kira had grappled with her in the dark, on cold stone flooring. Dripping down from a nearby bed, warm blood pooled over the stones where they both frantically scrambled for control.

But Kira had been stronger.

Covered in a dead man's blood, she managed to mount the woman's back and dominate her. Kira’s legs hooked around her torso, left arm tight around the woman’s throat as her right hand reached for the bloodied dagger that had clattered to the ground in their struggle.

Covered in her husband’s blood, the woman’s scream burned itself into the dark recesses of Kira’s mind. Once she got a hand on her blade, the woman attempted to plead for her life through struggling breaths, pinned beneath the pressure of Kira’s arm crushing her windpipe.

Kira barely heard her. Barely cared what she was trying to get out.

In a single motion, she released her grip around the woman’s throat and swiftly sliced clean through her jugular with razor sharp steel. Crimson sprayed along the mahogany bed frame, the woman's body going limp against Kira’s chest.

Shoving the body away, she pulled herself out from under it. Blood-slicked and breathing heavily, she rose to her feet—
—meeting the gazes of two horrified children standing paralyzed in the doorframe.

She blinked again.

In the reflection, the orange glow of her eyes met her gaze—familiar, yet utterly foreign.

A beast stared back. Though in truth, the reflection hadn’t changed much.
She had been a monster then too. She was something else now—more. But never less.

She’d taken care of herself then—and countless times following. It was all she knew how to do.

If Ivor had meant something else—

No. She wouldn’t entertain the thought.

Turning away from the window, her gaze dropped to a flickering candle in the center of the table. She prodded at one of her sharp canines with her tongue, hands clasped, absently massaging the warmth back into her fingers as she stared into the flame—trying to ignore the faint pulse of heartbeats beneath the floorboards.

Drawing in a slow breath, she rose from the table, the chair scraping against the wooden floor. She’d taken enough of a break here. Enough dwelling. Enough connection.

She had things to attend to in her own shop. The Sages would likely want her to make an appearance soon. And she wanted to—

Unbidden, an image flashed in her mind. A sickly fox. The creature inside the crate that the Lunarian guard had been peering into earlier—a vision she’d glimpsed through the eyes of the nameless guard she’d blood-bonded with that had unknowingly shared with her.

The guard's emotions bled into her—hesitation and worry—as he offered the lethargic animal water and dried meat, willing it to survive.

Kira closed her eyes sharply, blocking out the images and emotions that didn’t belong to her. Anger rippled through her in response.

Reopening her eyes, she stalked toward the door and ripped it open.

It was time to sever this tie.

Realms of Sun & Shadow

Location: Eye of the Beholder

Nyla held her faint smile as Thalia delivered her final remark, watching the redhead step away with poise and casual dismissal. Nyla didn’t flinch beneath the bladed undertones left in her wake. She let it pass like a breeze—unaffected, maintaining her facial expression. As if she didn’t understand the barb. Didn’t feel the weight of it.

But she did.
And she’d remember it.

With Thalia’s back to her, Nyla slowly let the smile fade. Her expression went still—neutral and unreadable—as her gaze lingered on the woman’s straight spine and carefully measured stride.

A beat passed. Then a soft scoff escaped. “Charming,” she murmured under her breath.

When Thalia vanished around a corner, Nyla turned her gaze back to the tavern. She suspected now, with no small amount of irritation, that the mysterious man from the hot springs wouldn’t be making an appearance at all.

But the cold gnawed at her bones. And there were other (more boring) kinds of warmth she could chase.

She stepped inside, the scent of smoke and ale hitting her first. Her eyes swept the room—still annoyingly searching for dark hair and a crooked smile—and then halted.

Across the room, Aldrick was pressing a four-armed blight-born against the wall.

Her brow arched.

Gliding around a few loitering patrons, she claimed an empty table near the front door and set the basket of cookies in its center. Settling in, she rested her chin on her knuckles and observed.

Aldrick’s words didn’t carry to her, but the tension did. She’d seen him handle himself in tavern brawls a handful of times in the past. He was more clever than he let on, at times more ruthless than his charm suggested, and quick to pivot between grace and grit. But he wasn’t usually the one to instigate a fight.

It felt strange to see him playing the aggressor.

But whatever spark had caught seemed to fizzle out just as quickly. Words were exchanged. Aldrick stepped away and the blight-born moved around him—just in time for a guard to appear and deliver some type of parchment directly to him.

Nyla’s brow furrowed as the four-armed man loudly proclaimed he had royal matters to attend to. His theatrical flourish might’ve coaxed a laugh from her on any other day, were she not already narrowing her eyes on the guard tacking a notice to the tavern door.

As he stepped aside, her eyes scanned the parchment.

A summons for unregistered blight-born. The interview Flynn had told her about.

Her stomach turned.

She dropped her gaze to the table, the noise around her dulling. Laughter. Plates clinking. Chairs scraping wood. It all blurred together as her thoughts spiraled.

Flynn had asked her to attend the interview. And she’d said she would.

He wanted her to sit in a room and bare herself to him and his advisor—a stranger? Explain who she was—what she’d become. Let them see. Catalog it. Write it down and file it away in a drawer like she was something to be managed?

Another wave of nausea twisted through her.

Was it the summons? The reminder of Flynn and his new wife? Or maybe it was the cookies she’d forced herself to eat earlier—the performance food. She hadn’t even wanted them. She’d only needed to be seen eating. Needed to look alive.

Her mouth went dry. Her hand curled into a fist beneath her chin, nails biting into skin.

She had always been something to manage, hadn’t she?

No.
She wouldn’t go. Not today. Maybe not ever.

If Flynn wanted her there, he could come find her himself.

She didn’t owe him anything.

She could keep the illusion going forever if she had to. Outside of the few who mattered, no one needed to know what she’d become. All she had to do was keep smiling. Keep eating. Keep breathing like them. Her glamour hadn’t cracked yet. Not even when she was drunk.

She was, after all, just a performer.

She could hold it.

…Couldn’t she?

But she felt it—minute by minute—quiet and constant. The slow attrition of magic. The inevitable drain that would eventually strip warmth from her skin and brightness from her eyes.

Still. She wasn’t going to that fucking interview.

She’d rest. Let her stomach settle. Let her balance return.

Then she’d find herself a home. Something to call her own and pretend it meant she belonged here.

She wasn’t a footnote. She’d write her own damn chapter. With or without his approval.

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_{Mentions: Thalia @Qia, Vellion @Dark Light, Aldrick @SpicyMeatball, Claret @Dezuel}

Realms of Sun & Shadow

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By Order of the Crown and the Council of Dawnhaven Official Summons to All Unapproved Blight-Born Residents

Let it be known that all blight-born individuals who have not yet received formal approval to reside within the city of Dawnhaven are hereby summoned to report to the Alchemy Chambers for mandatory registration and interview. This process is required to obtain official identification and residency documentation. Upon completion, eligible individuals will be issued approval papers granting legal residence within the city. Location: Alchemy Chambers, Northwestern Residential Sector Hours: 1pm to 5pm, daily This directive applies to all unregistered Blight-born currently residing within city limits. Compliance is mandatory. Failure to appear may result in investigation, detainment, or removal from Dawnhaven in accordance with the safety mandates set forth by the Crown. Guards of Dawnhaven will be distributing this summons directly to individuals believed to fall under this order. This process is essential for your safety and the well-being of all who reside within Dawnhaven. We appreciate your cooperation as we continue to build a safer, united future for all who dwell within our walls. Signed, Commander Volkov & Commander Barrett On behalf of Their Highnesses, Prince Flynn and Princess Amaya of Dawnhaven

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_{Interactions: Celine @Beard Dad, Ranni @Queen Arya, Aldrick @SpicyMeatball, Nesna @enmuni, Claret @Dezuel}