tredlightly-throughthebroken

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

Luna stepped closer, she placed a gentle hand on Noah’s back, grounding him with a soft, reassuring pat. It wasn’t much—just a simple, human gesture—but it carried weight. She didn’t say anything.

Estellas eyes shifted, her gaze moved deliberately first to Peri, then to Lucas. Her eyes were glassy but searching, wide with emotion and still damp from her earlier tears. “I wanted to do it on my own…” she whispered, voice barely stronger than a breath. It cracked halfway through, catching in her throat as her lip trembled. “I’m sorry…”

Her small fingers gripped the edge of the blanket weakly, her whole body shivering beneath it. There was no defiance in her tone no trace of stubborn pride. Just regret. Honest, raw regret that burned behind her tired eyes. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to prove she could handle herself. But now, wrapped in bandages and barely holding on, all she wanted was to be forgiven for worrying them, for getting hurt, for trying to face the world without them by her side.

@somefuckingluckihave

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

A bit of context

Luna ran into the room holding Lucas’ hand tightly. Luna made a small sigh of relief when she saw Estella was conscious.

When Estella finally laid her eyes on Lucas, it was like the world narrowed to just him “I’m s-sorry, Daddy…” she whispered, her voice trembling, raw, the words breaking apart with emotion. “I-I didn’t mean to get hurt…”

Her lip quivered as she spoke, her small hand, shaky and bandaged reached out toward him There was guilt etched in every syllable she forced out, as if this whole thing her bloodied state, her torn skin, the pain was somehow her fault. She wasn’t crying because of the wounds anymore. She was crying because she was scared he’d be disappointed.

@somefuckingluckihave

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

“Where’s Daddy!?” Estella’s voice cracked sharply through the air the moment she heard Lucas’s name. Her eyes, hazy with pain and exhaustion, suddenly widened in alarm like the sound had jolted her heart awake even if her body couldn’t keep up. Estella removed her hand from the dogs head. She tried to sit up without thinking, sheer instinct driving her, panic flickering behind her bruised eyes. Her trembling hands gripped the edge of the cot, and for a brief second, she almost managed to lift herself.

But her injuries screamed in protest. Her abdomen seized with white hot pain, and her broken arm jolted beneath the strain. The medics gently but firmly easing her back down, trying not to hurt her further.

@somefuckingluckihave

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

Estella watched Commodus and Noah. Her eyes then landed on the old dog near Noah. “Puppy..” Estella mumbled trying to reach her hand to the dog. Estella loves dogs, and that pup was definitely helping her get her head off the fact that she was dying right now.

@somefuckingluckihave

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

“Papa…” The word barely passed Estella’s lips, thin and breathless Her voice was hoarse, raw from crying, screaming, and the quiet whimpers she’d tried to muffle through the pain.

Her good arm trembling violently from shock and exhaustion lifted from where it rested limply at her side. The motion was weak and sluggish. Her fingers curled slightly as she reached toward Commodus, She didn’t care about the pain anymore.

@somefuckingluckihave

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

“I’m getting the medics ready, then I’ll go downstairs with them so they can bring you two up. I’ll see you soon, ok?” Luna stated over the phone

With Estella, the moment the old dog nudged her arm, something flickered back to life. “Hi, buddy…” she breathed out, her voice small, but filled with the kind of warmth only a child could give in a moment like this. Her blood-slicked fingers moved an inch to brush against the dog’s fur, trembling from exhaustion and blood loss.

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

“SHE LIVES THERE!” Luna’s voice cracked with rage and desperation as it blared through the phone’s speaker. “SHE LIVES AT THE STUPID PALACE WITH YOUR STUPID BROTHER—BECAUSE THAT’S YOUR NIECE!” she screamed, not even aiming her voice into the phone anymore. The words came out like a punch, full of pain and panic, echoing through the line like a bombshell. She wasn’t angry at Noah, she was more pissed off at the situation

Meanwhile, in the passenger seat of the car, Estella’s blood-streaked face turned ever so slightly toward the old dog she had seen go into the back seat. Her dull eyes brightened, just a little, at the sight of a dog. And in that moment, everything else seemed to fade. “Puppy!” she gasped, her voice weak but suddenly full of a child’s wonder, as if pain had briefly stepped aside to let her be nine again. A trembling smile tugged at her cracked lips as she lifted one small, shaking hand and gave a little wave to the dog. Despite the blood still soaking through her clothes, despite the numbing cold crawling over her skin, that single burst of joy lit her up from within like a flickering candle. For just that second, Estella wasn’t a dying demigod—she was just a little girl meeting a puppy.

@somefuckingluckihave

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

“FUCK!” Luna’s voice exploded through the phone, raw and shaken. On the other end of the line, the sound of hurried footsteps and rustling fabric could be heard—her rapid movements a blur of panic and purpose. She wasn’t the type to break easily, but right now, there was no hiding the fear laced in every word. “Go to the nearest building! It should look like a palace you’ll know it when you see it!” she shouted, voice rising over the pounding in Noah’s ears. It wasn’t just urgency—it was desperation.

Estella stirred weakly against Noah’s chest, her head rolling slightly toward the sound of Luna’s voice crackling through the speaker. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, but her expression shifted—softened—with a flicker of recognition. Her lips parted, voice trembling and small, like a feather caught on a breeze. “Is… is that Auntie Luna…?” she whispered, as though she couldn’t quite believe it. There was something almost childlike in her tone, fragile hope piercing through the pain. The sound of Luna’s voice, even laced with panic, was a tether—something familiar in the haze of agony and fading light.

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

Luna picked up quickly. “Noah! Where the hell are you?” Her voice crackled through the receiver, sharp with urgency and edged in panic. She rarely ever let fear bleed into her tone, but tonight—it was different. There was something in the air. Something wrong. And Luna felt it.

On the forest floor, not far from the receiver’s echoing voice, Estella lay cradled against Noah, her fragile body growing heavier by the second. Her breathing came in shallow, uneven bursts—each inhale a quiet battle, each exhale slower than the last. The light was fading from her skin, that pale moonlit glow dulling as blood continued to seep from the jagged gash that tore across her lower abdomen.

Her unfocused gaze drifted up to Noah’s face, as if studying him through layers of fog. Her good eye—barely open beneath the swelling—fixed on him with a strange sort of wonder, as if some small, hidden memory had just come to the surface. Her trembling hand, slick with blood and shaking from weakness, lifted slowly, delicately, and brushed his cheek with ghostlike softness.

“You look like Daddy…” she whispered, her voice no louder than the wind rustling the trees. “And Eve…”

Her brow furrowed faintly, squinting through the haze and pain, trying to memorize him—trying to understand. There was something familiar in his features. Something safe. Something that reminded her of family.

The corner of her lip twitched, not quite a smile, but something tender. “You… you really look like them…”

Estella’s eyes were glassy but not yet gone.

Still fighting.

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

Estella’s small body bore the brutal aftermath of the monster’s attack—a cruel reminder that even the children of gods could break.

The worst of it was the deep gash carved across her lower abdomen, tearing from just below her left rib down toward her hip. The wound was jagged and raw, the edges uneven as if something clawed or serrated had raked across her midsection. Blood had soaked through the fabric of her starry dress, staining it a deep crimson that shimmered black in the moonlight. The bleeding had slowed, but only because her body was running out to give. The skin around the gash was pale and clammy, the beginnings of bruising already blooming around the torn flesh, angry and purple-blue.

Beneath the wound, shallow breaths made the injury twitch and strain, and each movement sent sharp, involuntary flinches through her small frame. If the gash had gone just a little deeper, it might have torn into something vital. As it stood, it was bad enough to put her at the edge of shock—especially for a child.

But that wasn’t all.

Her right forearm was swollen and bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken—likely from throwing it up to shield herself. The skin there was scraped raw from the impact, dirt and blood caking the abrasions. Every time she tried to move it, her body tensed with the effort to not scream.

Her knees and palms were scraped and torn, likely from falling hard while running—evidence of her desperate escape. Stones had torn through soft flesh, leaving the skin red and raw, little pieces of grit still embedded in the wounds.

There was a cut on her temple, just above her left eyebrow, where something had caught her as she tried to dodge. Blood had trailed from it down the side of her face, mingling with the dirt and the tears. Her eye on that side was starting to swell, darkening rapidly into the sickly yellow-purple shade of a fast-forming bruise.

Bruises mottled her ribs and sides, faint but growing darker, some shaped like impacts, others like she’d been thrown or slammed into something—branches, a tree, maybe even the monster’s own limbs.

She looked like a doll someone had tried to break on purpose.

And yet, somehow—barely—she was still breathing. Still holding on.

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

Estella’s eyes felt unbearably heavy, like lead weights were pulling her down into the darkness she was born from. Every blink grew slower, longer, like her body was quietly surrendering, even as her mind screamed to hold on just a little more. The cold had seeped into her skin, into her bones, and now it curled around her heart like vines—tightening, choking. Her fingers twitched weakly against Astrid’s shoulder, the warmth there the only thing grounding her to the present.

But even warmth wasn’t enough to keep the fear away.

She was terrified. Not just of dying—but of dying like this.

She knew she hadn’t been easy. She knew she pushed people away more often than she pulled them in. She’d scowled, she’d snapped, she’d met kindness with coldness more times than she could count. But she had loved them—her fathers, her mother, her sisters, her brothers. All of them. Fiercely. Quietly. In that strange, complicated way that only someone born into pain could.

And now they might never know.

The thought twisted in her stomach sharper than any monster’s claw. What if they thought she ran away because she hated them? What if they thought she didn’t care? That she had turned her back on them without a word, without a reason? What if her last moments in their memories were full of silence, or worse—anger?

She didn’t mean the sarcasm. The glares. The biting words thrown at her father when all he did was try.

She wanted them to know.

That she loved them.

That they were her world, even if she didn’t know how to show it. That every day without them felt like walking through fog. That she had memorized the sound of their voices just to carry them in her head when things got too dark.

Tears welled in her eyes again, slipping down her cheeks as her vision blurred further—maybe from exhaustion, maybe from the weight of too much left unsaid.

Even if she wasn’t good at being soft. Even if she was made of shadows and silence and scars. She had tried. In her own broken, clumsy way… she had loved them all so much.

“I’m tired..” was all the girl muttered

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

“I want my daddy… a-and I want E-Eve, and I w-want Zach..!”

The words ripped from Estella’s chest like glass, catching in her throat as her breath hitched and trembled. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, hoarse and frayed, but it carried a depth of sorrow that only a child too familiar with loss could hold. Her body trembled in Astrid’s arms, cold not just from the blood loss but from the ache of something far deeper—grief, heavy and suffocating.

Three names.

Three people her heart cried out for as if speaking them might pull them through the dark to her side.

Lucas.

Her father.

The first face that came to mind when the pain started sinking into her bones and the fear wrapped tight around her chest. Not because she knew him well—no, not really. Lucas had always been there in glimpses: a quiet figure at the edge of the room, trying, always trying, reaching out to her with hesitant hands and soft words. But Estella… she rarely let him close most of the time.

She had been cold. Stubborn. Guarded. She rolled her eyes when he tried to help, scoffed when he gave her advice, turned her back when he offered comfort. Always with a scowl, always a sharp word, always deflecting.

She wasn’t even born yet when he was lost, but somehow, he looked at her like she was something . And she’d had thrown it in his face once that he wasn’t there.

Eve.

Her sister.

Her bright, golden sister who came into her life far too late but changed it anyway. For the first eight years of her life, Estella didn’t even know her.place.

Eve didn’t treat her like a mistake. Or a curse. Or a tool forged in darkness.

She treated her like she mattered.

She gave Estella warm smiles, soft hugs, a hand to hold when things got too loud. She let her laugh. Let her cry. Let her curl up beside her without asking questions or expecting anything in return. With Eve, Estella had felt something she didn’t even know she craved: the freedom to be a child.

And then—

Zach.

The quiet one.

The one born the same day as her, tied to her by fate or prophecy or sheer accident of timing. But they didn’t grow up together. Not really. Different rooms, different halls, different worlds.

She always meant to talk to him more. He seemed kind, in a quiet, watchful sort of way. He understood things. Understood her, maybe, even if neither of them ever said it out loud.

And now, that silence sat heavy on her tongue. She hadn’t told him anything. Hadn’t even said goodbye.

And in that moment, she didn’t sound like a daughter of Nyx. Not a child of the night.

Just a little girl who wanted to go home.

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

OPEN STARTER

Nothing good ever lasts

Tw: blood, violence, child violence, close death experience, mentions of death

The woods had gone still again.

Not the peaceful kind of still that came with sleep, but the sharp, tense kind that came after something violent had passed through—when the birds no longer sang, and the wind no longer dared to move the trees. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise, the kind that told you something was wrong.

The monster was long gone now. A dracaenae, maybe. Or something worse. Whatever it was, it had left a trail of claw marks and blood-smeared bark in its wake.

And at the edge of that chaos—barely holding on—was a child.

And that’s when you got a better look at the young girl..it was Estella.

She couldn’t have been more than nine years old. Curled up at the base of an old, moss-covered tree just a stone’s throw from the cottage. Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling in tight, panicked gasps. Her tiny frame was trembling, soaked in rain, blood, and shadow. Her black dress was torn down one side, a long gash cut across her ribs, and one of her arms bent wrong—like she’d tried to shield herself and failed.

But even now, even half-broken and fading, she looked like she belonged to the night itself.

The shadows clung to her like silk. Her brown hair tangled around her face, and her skin—pale as starlight—seemed to glow faintly beneath the full moon. You could just barely make out the way the darkness curled protectively around her fingers, weak tendrils of Nyx’s power trying to hold her together.

She didn’t move when you came close at first.

Maybe she didn’t hear you.

Or maybe she was too far gone to care.

But then her eyes—cloudy, fever-bright, and too old for her face—fluttered open, just a sliver. She flinched when she saw movement, her body instinctively trying to sink further into the tree trunk, though she was too weak to actually go anywhere.

Her brown and grey eyes stared up at you, the Nyx child looked so much..smaller then she usually would

Her lips were cracked. Her voice came out as a whisper.

“…Please,” she rasped, “please help me..”

Tears slipped down her dirt-streaked cheeks, and for the first time, she didn’t try to hide them.

“I tried to fight,” she whispered. “I did. I used everything I had… the shadows, the dark…I even tried to shadow Travel... But it—it wasn’t enough.”

She coughed, hard, blood flecking her lips, her small frame trembling again. “I thought I was strong. I thought I could make it.”

Then, softer. More childlike.

“…Am I going to die?”

Her voice cracked on the last word. She didn’t sound brave anymore. She sounded nine. Just a scared little girl lying alone in the woods, waiting for something—someone—to save her.

The daughter of Nyx was at your feet.

And as helpless as ever.

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

"I am a demigod- but...Who forgot you?"

“Fuck offff, I don’t have to explain myself to a stranger.” Estella snapped

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

"If you know she's alive why are you still so...uh Unstable?"

“You try being forgotten and be a demigod and other shit. Fuck off.”

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

Estella quickly hugged Theo. Little sniffles come from the younger brunette as she hugged her brother. “You worried Colleen and that other kid you adopted..” Estella mumbled through sniffles

SEMI-OPEN STARTER*

Batman raises his hands when I take the picture to cover his face.

Theo... was back. Kind of. He's been back for a while, actually, for about a week or so- but didn't make it known. Didn't even put the sticker back on his door. He was honestly just there for his daughter. Constant visits to her room, and wouldn't you know it, no one noticed the room the teen abandoned was occupied again. To be fair, all he did in there was sit on the floor and stare at a wall, and hide in the bathroom if anyone were to enter the room.

Now, upon realizing something's coming up, and reminding himself that there's still something unfinished he needed to get done, he started doing things again. Took his sewing machine out late at night and continued his projects when everyone was sleeping- or should be sleeping. Determined to finish the things and sneakily give them out without being noticed.

Though, if anyone were to pay attention, they'd probably notice some slight changes. If anyone were to enter the room, maybe they'd see how the box with the sewing machine lay just slightly off, slightly not in the spot it was left in before. Or perhaps people would notice little bits of... mist? Yeah, it looked like mist, seeping through the door at times.

*interact only if it makes sense for your character to be in Commodus's palace!

Taglist (ask to be added or deleted!!!): @the-great-emperor-commodus @another-argo @literally-tinker-bell @roryandthethorns @reyno-solis-real @glitchyk @judas-of-eris @notaeoluschild @the-little-tadpole @daughter-of-thanatosss @the-tickle-anon @defect-child-of-eros

/nf!!

[tredlightly-throughthebroken]

“…I thought you had disappeared like Eve did. And that the next time I’d see you, you wouldn’t remember me.” Estella stated. Estella just stared at Theo. She tried her damned hardest to not sob, but the silent tears started to roll down her little cheeks. Her lip made a small quiver

SEMI-OPEN STARTER*

Batman raises his hands when I take the picture to cover his face.

Theo... was back. Kind of. He's been back for a while, actually, for about a week or so- but didn't make it known. Didn't even put the sticker back on his door. He was honestly just there for his daughter. Constant visits to her room, and wouldn't you know it, no one noticed the room the teen abandoned was occupied again. To be fair, all he did in there was sit on the floor and stare at a wall, and hide in the bathroom if anyone were to enter the room.

Now, upon realizing something's coming up, and reminding himself that there's still something unfinished he needed to get done, he started doing things again. Took his sewing machine out late at night and continued his projects when everyone was sleeping- or should be sleeping. Determined to finish the things and sneakily give them out without being noticed.

Though, if anyone were to pay attention, they'd probably notice some slight changes. If anyone were to enter the room, maybe they'd see how the box with the sewing machine lay just slightly off, slightly not in the spot it was left in before. Or perhaps people would notice little bits of... mist? Yeah, it looked like mist, seeping through the door at times.

*interact only if it makes sense for your character to be in Commodus's palace!

Taglist (ask to be added or deleted!!!): @the-great-emperor-commodus @another-argo @literally-tinker-bell @roryandthethorns @reyno-solis-real @glitchyk @judas-of-eris @notaeoluschild @the-little-tadpole @daughter-of-thanatosss @the-tickle-anon @defect-child-of-eros

/nf!!