#Agile Development Guide

[successfulpickleball]

Footwork on the Pickleball Courts

Give yourself an advantage by incorporating focused footwork drills into your routine.

Pickleball is a fast-paced, dynamic sport which requires quick reflexes and swift reactions. Players need the ability to move quickly, change direction, and position themselves properly on the court to be successful so it is essential to understand the importance of footwork on the court. Improve Agility and Movement Footwork is essential for several reasons; firstly, movement on the court and…

[jadeshifting]

— A GUIDE TO CLASSES AT EVER AFTER HIGH.

MYTHOLOGY. taught by Mrs. Psyche

this class delves into the legendary tales and divine histories of various magical realms, exploring the origins, powers, and legacies of gods, mythical creatures, and legendary heroes. Mrs. Psyche, an expert in ancient lore and celestial wisdom, guides students through epic sagas, divine rivalries, and the cultural significance of myths across Ever After. expect interactive lessons, dramatic reenactments, and the occasional visit from an actual deity if you’re lucky—or very unlucky

HOMEWORK. expect essays on the morals and hidden meanings in classic myths, plus creative assignments like rewriting a legend with a modern twist PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. show curiosity about myths from all cultures and always be respectful of love deities—Mrs. Psyche takes their stories very seriously AVOID MISHAPS. don’t mix up gods from different pantheons in your presentations—calling Zeus “a Norse deity” is a one-way ticket to an exasperated sigh

KINGDOM MANAGEMENT. taught by Mrs. Her Majesty, the White Queen

future rulers, nobles, and aspiring leaders learn the ins and outs of running a kingdom, from diplomacy and lawmaking to organizing grand balls and handling royal scandals. the White Queen, known for her composed yet commanding leadership, teaches strategy, ethics, and governance through real-world scenarios, often incorporating Wonderlandian logic puzzles to test students’ problem-solving skills under pressure

HOMEWORK. drafting decrees, designing economic policies, and writing conflict resolution strategies fit for ruling a kingdom PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. always address her formally, take notes in impeccable script, and never question the importance of royal protocol AVOID MISHAPS. never suggest solving political disputes with a sword—she insists that diplomacy, not duels, is the mark of a true ruler

ADVANCED ELFONOMICS. taught by the esteemed Fairy Queen

this elite course teaches students the intricate financial magic behind running a kingdom, from managing enchanted trade routes to understanding the unpredictable fluctuations of the golden bean stock market. the Fairy Queen, with her keen business acumen and ancient fae wisdom, ensures her students master the art of wealth accumulation, resource allocation, and the occasional negotiation with mischievous leprechauns

HOMEWORK. balancing enchanted budgets, predicting market trends in fairy-tale economies, and occasional field trips to enchanted banks filled with gold PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. keep your calculations accurate and your economic theories sound—Fairy Godmother investments rely on precision, not guesswork AVOID MISHAPS. don’t accept enchanted gold from leprechauns or trickster fairies—it will vanish overnight, and your grade will disappear with it

GRIMMNASTICS. taught by Coach Gingerbreadman

a fast-paced, action-packed class that combines acrobatics, endurance, and skills fit for any fairytale hero or heroine. with Coach Gingerbreadman’s lightning-fast speed and high-energy training style, students practice enchanted obstacle courses, daring escapes, and storybook stunts that would make even the most daring adventurer sweat. the class focuses on developing strength, flexibility, coordination, and agility, blending magical elements with traditional gymnastics techniques

HOMEWORK. none! ( whew ) but in class, expect daily obstacle courses, tower-climbing drills, and team challenges that involve fleeing from imaginary witches PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. keep up, move fast, and don’t complain—Coach G is all about agility and endurance, and he does’t slow down. ever AVOID MISHAPS. never eat anything left unattended in the gym—there’s a 50/50 chance it’s either an energy-boosting enchanted snack or a curse-laced trick. you never know!

CHEMYTHSTRY. taught by Professor Rumplestiltskin

a mix of potions, alchemy, and enchanted chemistry, this course teaches students how to brew everything from love potions to transformation elixirs—if they can handle Professor Rumplestiltskin’s cryptic riddles and tricky assignments. with an emphasis on magical reactions and the delicate balance of ingredients, students must be precise, or they may find themselves accidentally cursed or turned into gold

HOMEWORK. brewing potions, analyzing alchemical reactions, and testing the properties of enchanted elements PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. follow instructions to the letter—Rumplestiltskin loves precision and has a zero-tolerance patience for careless spell-mixing AVOID MISHAPS. never, under any circumstances, agree to any kind of “trade” with the professor in exchange for an easier assignment. it’s not worth it, trust me

DAMSEL - IN - DISTRESSING CLASS. taught by Madam Maid Marian

a staple for traditional storybook heroines, this class teaches the fine art of swooning at the right moment, perfecting the helpless-yet-charming gaze, and calling for help in a voice that carries across enchanted forests. Madam Maid Marian ensures her students master the delicate balance between appearing vulnerable while subtly manipulating the situation to their advantage—because even the most distressed damsels know how to work a fairytale in their favor

HOMEWORK. practicing swooning, perfecting a well-timed gasp, and composing letters of woe to imaginary rescuers PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. always act appropriately dramatic when learning proper distress techniques—anything less than peak theatrics is disappointing AVOID MISHAPS. don’t accidentally outshine the prince in a rescue simulation—nothing gets you on her bad side faster than saving yourself ( no matter how blitheringly useless your rescuer may be )

CREATIVE STORYTELLING. taught by Professor Jack B. Nimble

in this dynamic and expressive class, students learn how to craft compelling narratives, whether for written tales, theatrical performances, or enchanting oral traditions. Professor Jack B. Nimble, known for his quick wit and lively teaching style, encourages students to think outside the storybook and experiment with different genres, endings, and perspectives, ensuring their own tales are just as spellbinding as the ones that came before them

HOMEWORK. writing fairytales with unexpected endings, crafting riddles, and creating engaging oral stories to be performed in class PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. be witty, be original, and never deliver a boring story—Professor Jack lives for quick thinking and clever twists ( students still whisper about the time he literally fell asleep in the middle of a student’s story ) AVOID MISHAPS. avoid clichés at all costs—it says in the syllabus that if he hears “once upon a time” too often, he might jump out the window in protest

ADVANCED VILLAINY. taught by Mr. Badwolf

for those embracing their darker destinies ( or just wanting to understand the mind of a villain—it’s an elective, too ) this class explores the art of scheming, deception, and tactical villainy. Mr. Badwolf, with his menacing charm and years of experience causing trouble, teaches students how to craft masterful monologues, execute dramatic entrances, and plan foolproof plots—complete with an emphasis on avoiding the classic pitfalls that lead to a villain’s downfall

HOMEWORK. devising foolproof villainous schemes and identifying weak points in heroic plans. bonus points for sabotaging another student’s assignment PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. show ambition, strategy, and more than a little bit of wicked flair—Mr. Badwolf respects students who think like masterminds AVOID MISHAPS. don't act heroic in class—while he tolerates reform-minded students, he won’t hesitate to assign extra homework as punishment if he feels anyone's too generous or kindhearted

FASHION DESIGN. taught by Mrs. Fairy Godmother

a dream-come-true class for aspiring designers, where students learn to craft magical ensembles, enchant fabrics, and create garments that are both stylish and spellbinding. with Mrs. Fairy Godmother’s expertise in transformation magic, students practice stitching together gowns that change color at midnight, boots that walk on air, and accessories infused with fairy dust. bonus points for those who can design an outfit fit for a royal ball and an epic quest. the class blends traditional design principles with a touch of enchantment, encouraging students to create outfits that reflect their unique personalities and tell their own fairy tales

HOMEWORK. creating mood boards, sketching outfits, and crafting magical garments with enchanted fabrics PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. always keep your workspace neat and clean, and your designs fabulous—Mrs. Fairy Godmother has high standards for both AVOID MISHAPS. never leave unfinished projects unattended—one rogue swish of a wand, and your dress might sprout wings or turn into a pumpkin

BEAST TRAINING & CARE. taught by Professor Poppa Bear

from training fire-breathing dragons to taming mischievous talking mice, this class prepares students for handling all manner of enchanted creatures. with his warm but no-nonsense approach, Professor Poppa Bear teaches students how to communicate with beasts, provide proper magical care, and even ride or befriend some of Ever After’s most fearsome ( or snuggly ) creatures. the class emphasizes the importance of empathy, respect, and responsible stewardship when interacting with enchanted beings

HOMEWORK. taking notes on enchanted creature encounters you have outside of class, studying their habitats, and practicing magical grooming techniques. assignments are much easier for students who have their own mystic beast as a pet PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. be patient, compassionate, and firm—Professor Poppa Bear believes good beast tamers must balance kindness with authority, and he won't hesitate to crack down on students he feels aren't being tolerant and kind with the creatures AVOID MISHAPS. always double-check what you're feeding the creatures—accidentally giving a griffin a fire-breathing potion will not end well

CROWNCULUS. taught by Mrs. Her Majesty, the White Queen

a blend of advanced mathematics and royal economics, this class teaches students how to manage kingdom finances, calculate treasure values, and strategize for economic prosperity. the White Queen ensures that students grasp complex numerical concepts while also understanding the practical application of numbers in ruling a kingdom, proving that math isn’t just about numbers—it’s about power and magic, too

HOMEWORK. solving royal tax equations, balancing enchanted budgets, and calculating castle construction costs PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. always show your work neatly on your notes, respect the logic of numbers, and never bring chaos into her perfectly ordered classroom. loose fairy dust or torn paper is a one-way ticket to getting sent out to the hallway AVOID MISHAPS. never argue that "magic can just fix the math"—that’s a fast track to an exasperated glare and extra equations ( though she'll pretend you were chosen at random for them )

ADVANCED WOOING. taught by Dr. King Charming

whether it’s serenading a princess from a castle tower or sweeping a prince off his feet at a royal ball, this class covers the fine art of courtship. Dr. King Charming, an expert in chivalry and romance, teaches students how to compose love letters, master ballroom etiquette, and perfect the dramatic, wind-blown hair flip. special guest lectures from famed love interests ensure students are well-versed in only the most effective wooing techniques ever after

HOMEWORK. writing needlessly lengthy sonnets, practicing your dramatic entrance, and perfecting grand romantic gestures PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. exude confidence, use flowery language, and always demonstrate princely manners—Dr. Charming believes wooing is an art, and it helps if you act with decorum even outside of tests and assignments AVOID MISHAPS. don’t mix up your love letters—accidentally delivering the wrong one can lead to legendary levels of fairytale drama ( Dr. Charming won't admit how he knows, but he seems suspiciously adamant on it )

COOKING CLASS - IC. taught by Professor Momma Bear

a cozy yet rigorous class where students learn everything from baking enchanted pastries to brewing hearty, storybook-worthy stews. Professor Momma Bear, warm but strict, teaches students the magic of home-cooked meals and how to avoid common culinary disasters—like accidentally putting a sleeping spell in the soup ( more common than you’d think. shocking, i know. ) bonus points for anyone who can craft a meal fit for both a royal banquet and a humble woodland picnic

HOMEWORK. baking enchanted pastries, perfecting porridge temperatures, and learning potion-infused cooking in the communal kitchens—they're open late at night, which is when lots of students do their best work PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. follow the recipe to a T, respect the kitchen space, and always clean up after yourself—Professor Momma Bear runs a strict but cozy classroom, and surfaces need to be crumb-free for that to happen AVOID MISHAPS. never leave the oven unattended—one careless mistake and your muffins might gain sentience ( or explode )

DARK SORCERY. taught by Baba Yaga

for those required to ( or foolish enough to ) dabble in the shadows, this class explores the ancient and forbidden arts of dark magic. Baba Yaga, cryptic and terrifyingly wise, teaches students the ethics of wielding power, the risks of curses and hexes, and how to summon forces beyond mortal comprehension—strictly for academic purposes… of course. students who can keep up with her demanding lessons will most certainly find themselves walking the fine line between greatness and peril, just as intended

HOMEWORK. expect assignments on hexes, shadow magic, and extremely ethically questionable but highly effective spellcasting techniques PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. be respectful, but not a suck up... listen carefully, but don't hang onto her every word... and never waste her time—Baba Yaga is a fickle old witch who does not tolerate foolishness AVOID MISHAPS. don’t touch any of the professor’s personal artifacts—one single misstep, and you might find yourself cursed for a week ( or a lifetime )

WOODSHOP. taught by Mr. Geppetto

in this hands-on class, students learn the craftsmanship of enchanted carpentry, from crafting magical furniture to carving living marionettes ( though talking puppets are strictly optional. ) taught by the legendary woodcarver Geppetto, the course emphasizes precision, patience, and the importance of working with enchanted materials—because nobody wants a table that turns into a frog mid-banquet

HOMEWORK. crafting intricate wooden figures, repairing broken fairytale objects, and designing enchanted furniture to be presented to the class while Geppetto ooh-s and aah-s encouragingly and inspects it from every angle PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. pay attention to detail, measure at least twice before cutting, and never be careless with your tools ( wouldn't wanna lose a finger... or more ) AVOID MISHAPS. never bring anything to life by accident—Mr. Geppetto still has opinions about unexpected animated puppets, most of them aren't as perfect as his

DEBATE. taught by Mrs. Her Majesty, the White Queen

a battle of wits, logic, and eloquence, this class teaches students how to construct compelling arguments, navigate royal negotiations, and win verbal duels with precision. The White Queen is a master of both reason and Wonderlandian riddles, and she ensures her students can debate everything from kingdom policies to whether a dragon’s hoard should be considered taxable income. though, of course, you always have to shake your opponents hand before and after a debate—and sometimes halfway through, too ( “debate is nothing without decorum, dears” the teacher chirps. )

HOMEWORK. researching historical disputes, and crafting persuasive speeches and arguments to perform in class PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. speak clearly, argue with logic, and maintain perfect etiquette—she values reason and refinement above all else. a perfectly crafted argument could be given zero-sum marks if you use foul language while presenting it AVOID MISHAPS. don’t descend into nonsense logic—Mrs. Her Majesty and the subject of debate as a whole has no room for "because I said so" as a defense

GEOGRAFAIRY. taught by Professor Jack B. Nimble

a whirlwind tour that covers every enchanted land, hidden kingdom, and magical realm, this class ensures students can navigate their way through both real and mythical landscapes. Mr. Jack B. Nimble, quick on his feet and sharp in his knowledge, teaches students how to read enchanted maps, locate legendary landmarks, and survive the treacherous terrains of places like the Swamps of Sorrow or the shifting sands of the Ever After Desert

HOMEWORK. memorizing magical trade routes, mapping enchanted forests, and planning efficient royal journeys, especially for high-stakes travel like royal carriages or valuable trade stocks PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. stay sharp, think fast, and always be ready for pop quizzes—Professor Jack moves just as quickly as his name suggests AVOID MISHAPS. don't mistake one enchanted swamp for another—some have quicksand, others have talking alligators, and both will fail you the test

DRAGON SLAYING. taught by Dr. King Charming

an action-packed course for aspiring heroes and knights, this class covers everything from identifying dragon species to the safest techniques for confronting ( or befriending ) them. Dr. King Charming, ever the gallant warrior, teaches battle tactics, shieldwork, and the art of delivering a victorious speech while standing atop a defeated beast. students are encouraged to find creative, non-lethal ways to deal with dragons—because a slayed dragon often makes for a very angry dragon mother ( you don’t wanna deal with one of those )

HOMEWORK. designing battle strategies, practicing swordplay ( safely and with supervision ), and studying legendary dragon encounters PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. be courageous ( he hates students who cower ) and cultivate a healthy respect for dragonkind—Dr. Charming does not tolerate arrogance or killing out of malice AVOID MISHAPS. never mistake a friendly dragon for a feral one—Dr. Charming is not amused by unnecessary heroics or violence without reason

RIDDLING. taught by Professor Sphinx

a brain-twisting class that challenges students to master the art of riddles, trick questions, and mind-bending wordplay. Professor Sphinx, with her cryptic wisdom and smug amusement, pushes students to think in loops, uncover hidden meanings, and craft riddles so clever that they impress even her. only those with quick wits and sharper tongues will excel. there’s a silent booth tucked into the back of class where students can take solace in five minute time-outs if they get a riddle-induced brain-ache

HOMEWORK. solving some of the most famous and ancient riddles from fairytale history, crafting the trickiest trick questions, and debating paradoxes ( there has to be some end ) ( spoiler alert: there isn't ) PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. think outside the box and embrace the art of wordplay, she appreciates students who attempt to match her riddlish intellect ( though they never fully can. ) never give an obvious answer—she doesn't tolerate laziness AVOID MISHAPS. don't answer a riddle too quickly—Professor Sphinx loves watching students squirm in confusion, she'll snap if you think one is "too easy"

POISON FRUIT THEORY. taught by Mr. Henchman

a darkly fascinating course that delves into the study of enchanted produce, venomous flora, and the alchemy of cursed concoctions. Mr. Henchman, an expert in apple-related treachery from first-hand witnessing, ( and doing most of the dirty work himself shhhh ) teaches students how to identify, craft, and counteract, certain poisons—purely for academic purposes… of course. only the most careful and exceedingly precise students avoid an accidental nap at some point

HOMEWORK. identifying toxic ingredients, testing non-lethal potions, and studying famous fairytale poisonings—students are absolutely not permitted to handle lethal poisons outside of class time, no matter how funny Mr. Henchman thinks it would be PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. be cunning, precise, and always ask about antidotes—surprisingly enough Mr. Henchman values ambition and intelligence over blind villainy AVOID MISHAPS. this should go without saying, but don’t ever eat anything from the classroom—regardless of whether it’s an extra-credit challenge or a standard study subject, it’s all dangerous

HISTORY OF TALL TALES. taught by Professor Paul Bunyan

a larger-than-life class where students study the greatest exaggerations in folklore, from beanstalk-climbing farm boys to men who lasso tornadoes. Professor Paul Bunyan, with his booming voice and legendary stature, teaches the importance of hyperbole, embellishment, and how a good story can shape the world. except storytelling assignments where size does matter, and extra credit for every surreptitious golden object you can cram into your tale

HOMEWORK. exaggerating your own legendary feats into tall tales, researching folklore heroes, and reenacting famous larger-than-life moments PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. show enthusiasm for exaggerated storytelling and never question the truth of a tall tale—Professor Bunyan appreciates a good yarn, says puzzling into it "takes away the fun" AVOID MISHAPS. don’t get caught underestimating the size of the stories—or of Professor Bunyan’s pet blue ox, Babe

DIPLOMACY 101. taught by Mrs. Fairy Godmother

an essential course for future rulers, ambassadors, and anyone hoping to survive royal politics, this class covers the art of negotiation, conflict resolution, and fairy-tale-level etiquette. Mrs. Fairy Godmother, an expert in wish-granting diplomacy, ensures that students can turn any total pumpkin of a situation into a golden carriage of opportunity—preferably before midnight

HOMEWORK. drafting peace treaties, mediating minor disputes between friends or classmates, and practicing polite yet firm negotiation techniques PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. mind your manners, choose your words wisely, and never raise your voice—Mrs. Fairy Godmother believes in charm over conflict, and that manners always win AVOID MISHAPS. try not to use magic to solve conflicts too quickly—diplomacy requires finesse and effort, not a bibbidi-bobbidi-bandaid

CASTLE DESIGN. taught by the Three Little Pigs

a structural and aesthetic architecture class that teaches students how to design the perfect castle, from grand ballrooms to impenetrable fortresses, and everything else a benevolent ruler ( or evil sorcerer ) could need from their abode. the Three Little Pigs, having learned their lesson more than once after their own architectural mishaps, are now experts at crafting with only the pinnacle of quality materials, and they guide students through the balance of beauty and functionality, ensuring that no tower is too tall and every drawbridge is both sturdy and stylish

HOMEWORK. drafting blueprints, constructing model castles, and ensuring defenses against huffing and puffing in your structures PLEASE THE PROFESSORS. always prioritize structural integrity in your projects—they still have very, very strong opinions about weak materials AVOID MISHAPS. never, ever suggest using straw or sticks unless you want a three-pig class-long lecture on the merits of proper fortification

BEWITCHING SONG. taught by Ms. Aquata of Atlantis

a mesmerizing music class where students learn the magic of vocal enchantment, from siren songs that lure sailors to sleep, all the way to battle hymns that rally armies. Ms. Aquata, hailing from the royal family of Atlantis with her haunting voice and knowledge of forbidden harmonies, trains students in the delicate balance of melody and power—reminding them that some songs come at a price

HOMEWORK. composing enchantments through song, practicing vocal spells, and analyzing the most famous fairytale musical enchantments ( of course, the teacher is partial to songs from the tale of the Little Mermaid, though she pretends she doesn't have favorites ) PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. stay in tune and on key, embrace the magical melodies, and never mock merfolk music—Ms. Aquata takes her siren songs very seriously, even if they sound like dolphin noises to the untrained ear AVOID MISHAPS. avoid singing the wrong notes—one slip, and you might accidentally charm your classmates into an impromptu dance number ( music magic can be... fickle )

ANGER MAGICMENT. taught by Mr. Badwolf

a course designed for students with fiery tempers and villainous bloodlines, this class focuses on channeling rage productively instead of, say, blowing houses down. Mr. Badwolf ( you know… the Big Bad Wolf ) with his own history of temper issues, teaches students techniques in deep breathing, mindfulness, and how to redirect fury into something slightly less destructive—like competitive sports instead of rampaging through villages

HOMEWORK. journaling your emotional responses on the day-to-day, practicing breathing exercises, and resolving conflict without growling PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. keep your temper in check, use calming techniques, and don’t provoke classmates—Mr. Badwolf knows firsthand how bad anger issues can get, he has no tolerance for trying to set off others AVOID MISHAPS. never howl in frustration—it sets off an automatic... pack response from Mr. Badwolf, leaving him embarrassed and you in detention

EXPERIMENTAL FAIRY MATH. taught by Dr. Sandman

a mind-boggling fusion of numbers, magic, and dream logic, this class teaches students how to manipulate enchanted equations, calculate impossible probabilities, and solve numerical riddles that make reality bend. Dr. Sandman, a master of both dreamscapes and abstract concepts, guides students through numerical paradoxes and whimsical calculations that only make sense if you never think about them too hard

HOMEWORK. solving numerical paradoxes, creating reality-warping equations, and exploring mathematical dreamscapes—make sure you can get back to your dorm when you're done studying, though PLEASE THE PROFESSOR. keep an open mind, embrace dreamy logic, and don’t expect normal numbers—Dr. Sandman sees math through a magical lens, try to see things from his point of view AVOID MISHAPS. never fall asleep mid-equation—you might wake up inside a calculated alternate reality

[kleopatra45]

Sun in the Houses of D9 Chart

1st House

When you have the Sun in your first house that partner must be one who helps you find your uniqueness and express it. This is a person who most likely knows they are right about something, firm in their beliefs. Something about them is very large, maybe even radiating and they might play an active role in your life guiding you to the realization of your own magnificence. Be ready for someone who tells you to be all best version of yourself possible, and respects your boundaries. Or mirrors — so that both the strengths and flaws can be reflected, providing a chance for greater awareness.

2nd House

Sun in the 2nd house means your future husband is someone who seeks stability and security, especially financially. Expectations will likely run high for loyalty and commitment, too, as they may either come from a place of strong financial means or be very good at managing resources. Can be the practical, pragmatic earthy side of a partner who appreciates simple pleasures and finds sense in building and curating comforts in your home. The may assist you discover your value, particularly in relation to self-respect educating you all about having a sense of worth in the relationship.

3rd House

A Sun in Third House — If you have your sun here, you will probably be drawn towards someone who piques your curious and communicative side. They could be a listener, a thinker or someone who enjoys the exchange of ideas and ideas. In this connection, communication is at the heart of who your partner will be, they will retain a razor-sharp wit and be inquisitive (even if it may seem challenging), and possess agility in being able to explore new directions. They might work in communication, media or educational fields and they will challenge you to be connected with the world. This partner provides enough of a spark to keep your mental wheels turning as you venture throughout life.

4th House

With the Sun in the fourth house, your compatible partner is likely someone who attaches great importance to kinship, heritage, and sentimental security. They may have a profound, nurturing essence, and they’ll probably bring warmth and solace to your shared domestic situation. This individual might have strong familial bonds or be intensely linked to their origins, and they will prioritize constructing a protected and loving home base. They're likely contemplative and emotionally astute, valuing internal development and a sanctuary-like area. With them, you’ll feel at home in your soul, as though you’ve discovered someone who offers deep, unwavering aid and foundation. Additionally, this person has the ability to connect with others on an emotional level through thoughtful discussion and a calm, gentle demeanor. While home and heritage are priorities, they also value personal growth through respectful, insightful exchanges that bring greater understanding.

5th House

The Sun in the fifth house indicates that your prospective spouse will be amorous, artistic, and playful. They'll add a spark of passion and enthusiasm to your life, and they're inclined to like art, self-expression, and spontaneity. They could be someone with a lively, childlike personality who exudes optimism and charisma. This spouse values romance and is prone to express it in dramatic or distinctive ways. If you want children, they may be very involved in your children's life, adding joy and excitement to family gatherings, or they may urge you to express your creativity through collaborative projects.

6th House

With the Sun in the sixth house, your spouse could be someone who exemplifies perseverance, resilience, and a sense of service. They could work in a healing or service-oriented field, such as healthcare, education, or community work. This person loves hard work and will most likely provide structure and support in your life, allowing you to keep healthy routines and balanced obligations. They are grounded and may have a quiet, unassuming nature, expressing their love through acts of service rather than grandiose displays. This relationship will most likely be one of mutual support, in which you collaborate to attain long-term goals and inner harmony.

7th House

The Sun in the seventh house indicates that your spouse will have a great effect on your life, most likely someone with a strong personality and leadership skills. They will exude confidence and may have a charisma that naturally draws people in. This someone may be highly motivated and accomplished in their area, even appreciated by others. They will look for an equal partner in you, with whom they can create a life of balance and mutual respect. Your journey with this person will feel like a meaningful partnership, with each of you learning from and growing alongside the other.

8th House

A spouse who enters your life with the Sun in the ninth house is likely to be mysterious, intense, and emotionally deep. This companion will provide transforming experiences to help you discover hidden elements of yourself. They may be highly perceptive and drawn to psychology, spirituality, or healing. Expect a deep connection that goes under the surface, where passion and difficulties help you grow together. This person may be financially resourceful, and they can assist you in managing shared resources. You'll discover the power of vulnerability and deep, heartfelt connection as you explore life's mysteries together.

9th House

With the Sun in the ninth house, your spouse is likely to value knowledge, philosophy, and adventure. They could have a broad viewpoint, possibly originating from a different background or having a strong interest in travel, spirituality, or education. They'll motivate you to grow and widen your horizons, allowing you to experience life from other angles. This companion could be a teacher or mentor who will inspire you to embrace your beliefs and spirituality. Together, you'll start on a lifelong adventure of learning, growth, and purpose.

10th House

When your Sun occupies the tenth house, it indicates that your future partner would be someone who is not only ambitious and industrious but also earns respect in their workspace. Such individuals are most likely to be career-driven wanting to change the world in some way and even take up an exalted position. This person will help you to fulfill your dreams and motivate you to think about the dreams in the far horizon. Such ambitions will be round you, and as important they will regard the joint legacy creation, with them, you will be able to achieve a way of living, which is meritocratic, and dignified. They can perhaps be the more level-headed of the two and, as a couple, you will forge an interdependent bond of respect, ambition and stability.

11th House

The placement of the Sun in the eleventh house suggests that the person could have a spouse who is reminiscent of a best friend- someone who resonates with their dreams and aspirations. Such a person is outgoing, modern, and may be engaged in some kind of organizational activities. A person like this holds friendship in high esteem, and this brings into the partnership cohesion and cooperation. This person may broaden your horizons or motivate you to achieve your goals. There will be common goals and values that will act as a strong foundation of your relationship, and you shall be happy in creating a world that integrates your uniqueness and the objectives you wish to achieve.

12th House

With the placement of your Sun in the twelfth house, it is likely your future partner will be someone with a very soft heart or perhaps spiritual or even enigmatic. Such a person may be involved in some self-healing or inner work and they will most certainly assist you in exploring the more obscure aspects of existence. This mate may be more suited to being on their own, enjoying activities such as silence, contemplation or creative art. They will provide you with emotional stability and tranquility, teaching you that sometimes it is necessary to turn within to appreciate one’s surroundings. You’d share a love that goes well beyond the physical level, towards greater principles of existence such as love, life, and the spirit. This bond will probably have an ethereal quality.

©️kleopatra45

[astrogossipp]

mercury notes. 💅🏻

Disclaimer. these observations do not have to resonate with everyone and everything, all expressed in this post is based on personal experience and research.

masterlist🍡

mercury signs and their characteristics 🍭

🫧 aries mercury

You're blunt and direct because you deeply care about your loved ones and want what's best for them, even if it initially hurts. You're a reliable friend who values mental stimulation over constant chatter. You're quick-witted and passionate, often diving into new interests headfirst, even if you haven't mastered them yet. Challenges excite you, and you prefer things that make you think hard. You can get obsessed until you figure something out, and once you do, you stick with it. However, you might get competitive or jealous when others are better at something you're passionate about. Plus, all that thinking can give you headaches. But ultimately, your bluntness stems from a place of caring, and your loyalty and agility of mind make you a valuable friend.

🫧 taurus mercury

Your laidback nature stems from your focus on what truly matters to you. You're guarded because you've learned to prioritize your goals and rely only on yourself, leading to a preference for a small, trustworthy circle. While emotional, your rationality guides you to offer practical advice sought by many. When you love, you do so intensely, either fully invested or not at all, which can leave you drained in communication and occasionally introverted, causing concern among others. You're honest and direct, with an appreciation for the beauty of words, possibly drawn to poetry. In youth, you might have easily developed crushes and possess a melodious voice, possibly skilled in singing. With Taurus Mercury, your communication style is stable and methodical, marked by a reserved demeanor and a tendency to carefully analyze your thoughts and opinions. While you may appear stubborn, others view you as thoughtful and reliable due to your grounded approach to communication.

🫧 gemini mercury

With your mind always buzzing, you might need to work on organizing to avoid getting overwhelmed easily. You're a sponge for information, possibly even having some psychic intuition. Your ability to grasp concepts quickly lets you talk your way through things effortlessly, even if you haven't fully digested them. People trust whatever you say, even if it's random, thanks to your charm. Your hunger for knowledge keeps you everywhere, possibly juggling multiple social media accounts or interests, making you intriguing yet hard to pin down. From a young age, you displayed advanced intellect, impressing others with your wisdom beyond years. However, your thirst for new knowledge can lead to forgetting old ones, making exams a struggle unless you study hard. Despite this, you're generous and respectful, always open to communication, which earns you many acquaintances but perhaps few deep emotional bonds, leaving you somewhat detached. You're expressive, likely talking with your hands and body to drive your point home. With a Gemini Mercury, you're curious and talkative, overflowing with ideas and a penchant for witty, sarcastic communication. You enjoy delving into topics deeply and playfully, often expressing yourself through clever wordplay and puns.

🫧 cancer mercury

Cancer Mercuries are often misunderstood due to the crybaby stereotype, but they're much more than that. They have a knack for sensing emotions, especially in their loved ones, and their words carry a depth that reflects their own experiences and wounds. They have a remarkable memory for emotional moments, often recalling cringey or painful events vividly while forgetting trivial details easily. These folks lean towards introversion and need plenty of alone time to recharge, thriving best among their loved ones. Clear communication is crucial with them as they can sense insincerity. Despite their emotional nature, they keep their feelings guarded and may use self-deprecating humor to deflect. Once they trust you, though, they're fiercely loyal and offer comfort and support with their words. With a Cancer Mercury, communication is deeply compassionate and intuitive, rooted in empathy and a desire to nurture and support others. They express themselves poetically and creatively, understanding others' pain and offering unwavering support.

🫧 leo mercury

Individuals with Leo Mercury express their love and affection through communication, showing warmth and making others feel like instant best friends. They can get obsessive about their interests and crushes, giving them intense focus. In learning environments, they need joy and fun to stay engaged. They value actions over words, so if you claim to love them, you better show it. Their charming communication style attracts attention, but they must be mindful of what they say as people tend to magnify their words. They're prone to checking up on loved ones frequently, regardless of how much time has passed, as attention is their love language. However, a downside is their reluctance to consider others' viewpoints, often believing they're always right. With Leo Mercury, communication is energetic, confident, and direct, with a charismatic and engaging flair. They enjoy being the center of attention and aren't afraid to assert themselves, making them natural leaders in communication.

🫧 virgo mercury

Virgo Mercuries are like the champions of communication, always making sure their words are well put together and hard to argue against, reminiscent of those kids who constantly won spelling bees. They're high achievers from a young age, constantly seeking logic and truth in everything, which can lead them to get lost in details and feel overwhelmed. Even in chaos, they handle things maturely with logic, earning them the reputation of wise advisors. However, their attention to detail can lead to overthinking, as they scrutinize even the smallest actions and texts, making it hard to deceive them. Suspicious by nature, they'll do thorough research, even stalking if needed, to uncover the truth. They should trust themselves more and boost their self-confidence to overcome intrusive thoughts. With a Virgo Mercury, communication is analytical and critical, driven by a desire for perfection and precision. They analyze everything before speaking, taking a methodical and logical approach that can sometimes lead to overthinking. Patience and self-discipline are key for them to manage their overactive minds effectively.

🫧 libra mercury

Libra Mercuries thrive on peace and harmony in their daily lives, feeling unsettled when things are out of order. While they're adept at seeing both sides of a story, they can get lost in trying to maintain balance. However, they've learned it's okay to embrace chaos occasionally, especially since they easily get bored. Despite their indecisive nature, they possess objective intelligence, making them skilled at solving problems from different perspectives, which suits careers in law or similar fields. Yet, their desire for justice can lead to complicated situations due to their reluctance to choose sides. This indecision may strain friendships, although they can also be seen as loyal and reliable if positively manifested. They have a thirst for knowledge and are drawn to what stimulates their minds, enjoying romance books or shows and even finding amusement in chaotic situations, despite not being naturally chaotic themselves. A positively manifested Libra Mercury is a great friend to have, always supportive and having your back. In communication, they're charming and balanced, adept at friendly and diplomatic interactions. They enjoy engaging with others, keeping conversations light and positive, and prefer to avoid confrontation or conflict, prioritizing harmony and balance in their relationships.

🫧 scorpio mercury

Scorpio Mercuries are enigmatic and hard to decipher. They're private and move in silence, carefully displaying only what they want others to see to avoid suspicion. With high emotional intelligence and intense intuition, they can easily fall into destructive thought patterns, including intrusive or sexual thoughts, and fear being exposed. Despite their suspicion of others' intentions, they strive to maintain a high vibrational image. In love, they're fiercely loyal and keep secrets close, but they can be ruthless if wronged. They delve deeply into thoughts, even overanalyzing simple problems and pondering existential questions. Their intuition often reveals truths they'd rather not know, making hiding things from them futile. Obsessed with what stimulates them, they can become stubborn and refuse to let go of harmful things. They find meaning in everything, holding onto items or information they believe will be useful. While loyal, they keep themselves guarded, trusting only themselves. Others may find them intimidating or blunt, and they enjoy playing with power due to their ability to easily gain trust. A Scorpio Mercury communicates sensitively and perceptively, reading into hidden meanings and subtext. They tend to keep their thoughts and feelings to themselves, balancing expression with restraint. They possess strong intuition and mental energy but may struggle with overthinking.

🫧 sagittarius mercury

Individuals with Sagittarius Mercury are warm and nonjudgmental, making others feel at home and giving them the best time of their lives. They're open-minded and objective, often surprising people with their vast knowledge and random facts, although they may feel insecure about their intelligence. They tend to see the best in everyone and can easily be taken advantage of due to their desire to do the right thing. They're great listeners and offer wise, unbiased advice, drawing people to them for venting sessions. Growing up, they were likely interested in solving larger problems, but they can get stressed easily and lost in knowledge and details. They're open to new experiences and friends but are put off by judgmental or arrogant people. They have a playful sense of humor and enjoy sharing random facts with friends, but they don't like being told what to do and can be unreliable if they're not truly interested in something. Their attention span is short, making it difficult to focus, and meditation may be challenging due to their constantly active minds. With Sagittarius Mercury, communication is playful and positive, marked by quick wit, humor, and a talent for uplifting conversations. They bring a bright and lively energy to any interaction, making people laugh and bringing joy to any situation.

🫧 capricorn mercury

Capricorn Mercuries are reserved and only share what's necessary, commanding respect with their directness, which can sometimes be mistaken for rudeness. They avoid drama and focus on their own pursuits, maintaining a private and reserved demeanor. Their knowledge comes from life experiences and karma, often shaped by past struggles and moments of loneliness. While typically kind, they have clear boundaries and won't hesitate to assert themselves when pushed too far. They're calculated and loyal, often taking on a protective role, especially with siblings. With a mature outlook on life, they exude old soul vibes and may seem like natural teachers. They excel at planning and methodical tasks, dedicating themselves fully to their responsibilities. Despite being social, they prioritize duty and future success over socializing, often retreating to recharge. They value trustworthiness and responsibility in others but have little tolerance for foolishness. Communication for Capricorn Mercuries is pragmatic and logical, characterized by a clear and ordered approach. They prefer speaking with precision and clarity, often overthinking decisions and striving for perfection.

🫧 aquarius mercury

Aquarius Mercuries possess vivid imaginations and creative minds, often thinking far ahead but struggling with simple concepts. They may excel in unconventional roles while finding day-to-day tasks boring and easily becoming distracted. Despite being social, they struggle to open up and may feel neglected or misunderstood for their ideas. Their innovative nature draws admiration, but they may attract copycats without calling them out due to their kind demeanor. They have a random but fun sense of humor, often sending memes or random comfort items. Their accepting nature and detachment make them intriguing to others, who are drawn to their unique perspective and lack of judgment. They may be interested in the occult or unconventional topics. Getting to know them is a hit or miss, as they either click with someone completely or don't connect at all. Communication for Aquarius Mercuries is unique and inventive, characterized by creative and original thinking, often outside the box. They may get lost in their thoughts and should strive for more grounded and effective communication.

🫧 pisces mercury

Pisces Mercuries possess vast knowledge and ideas but may struggle with insecurity and seek validation. They have an old, wise soul, often knowing things intuitively and feeling deeply. They are sacrificial and generous, prone to being taken advantage of due to their kindness. In love, they may overlook red flags and defend their passions fervently. Drawn to beauty and gentleness, they have a creative sense of humor and may struggle with mundane tasks. Their relationships with siblings can be complex, ranging from intuitive understanding to manipulation. When expressing their darker side, they can be manipulative or prone to self-deception. Words of affirmation are important to them, as they have a vivid imagination but are often misunderstood. Pisces Mercuries approach communication intuitively and emotionally, valuing creativity and empathy but sometimes struggling with logic and detail.

this post was created by @astrogossipp on tumblr <3 if reposting my work please give credits.

pics by @vmstv

[vivsinkpot]

Writing Characters with Fairy or Dragonfly Wings: Fragile, Fierce, and Not to Be Underestimated

So maybe your winged character doesn’t have feathered angelic wings or leathery dragon limbs. Maybe their wings are translucent, gossamer, or glittering in the light — the kind of wings that hum like crystal and tear like silk. Let’s talk about fairy, insectoid, dragonfly-like wings — and how to write them in a way that makes them feel real.

This is a follow-up to my original winged character guide — if you’re writing any kind of winged character, definitely check that out first for biomechanics, symbolism, and physical challenges.

Anatomy of a Gossamer Dream

Fairy-style wings are typically modeled on insect wings — dragonflies, butterflies, moths, cicadas — all those delicate, veined wonders of nature.

Lightweight but Strong (Sort Of)

These wings are made of thin membranes stretched over a network of veins.

Dragonfly wings in particular are rigid, allowing agile flight with independent movement (yes — each wing can flap separately).

Butterfly wings are softer, more fluttery, designed for gliding and visual display rather than speed.

✍️ If your character has dragonfly-style wings, think precision, agility, rapid changes of direction. If they have moth or butterfly wings, think grace, drift, allure.

Placement Matters

Insects have multiple pairs of wings (usually two pairs — forewings and hindwings).

You’ll want to decide: do your characters have just one pair, or four wings? Are they stacked or spread out?

✍️ Tip: A four-wing structure gives your character more balance, lift, and complexity — but also more space needed, more room for injury, and more movement to coordinate.

Fragility and Function

These wings may be beautiful, but they are vulnerable. Treat them that way in your writing.

Delicate Damage

Gossamer wings tear easily — on thorns, rough walls, during fights, even in bad weather.

Once damaged, they might be painful, irreparable, or regrow slowly.

This vulnerability can be symbolic — a representation of your character’s innocence, past traumas, or changing identity.

✍️ A torn wing might be your character’s equivalent of a limp, a scar, or a lost voice. Or it might be something they’re deeply ashamed of — a mark of exile from a fae court, perhaps.

Environmental Hazards

Rain is heavier than it looks — it can ground or drown tiny-winged creatures.

Smoke, dust, and cobwebs can destroy the delicate membranes.

Cold weather makes membranes brittle and prone to cracking.

✍️ Think about a scene where a fairy-like character has to crawl to shelter in a storm, or shelter their wings under a cloak, or cut their flight short to preserve their mobility.

Aesthetic and Symbolism

Fairy wings are rarely just functional. They are emblems — of status, magic, mood, and identity.

Wings As Personal Expression

Wing color, shape, and shimmer could be tied to emotion, rank, or species.

Maybe your characters’ wings change with age, seasons, or personal development (think: molting, metamorphosis, magical flux).

Transparent wings might become iridescent when touched, or darken with grief.

✍️ Describe how the wings catch the light. Make it matter when someone sees their reflection ripple across them. That’s character, not just costume.

Courtly Hierarchies

Wings could denote nobility, caste, or function in a fae society.

Torn or clipped wings might signal punishment or shame.

Artificial wings — prosthetic, magical, or glamoured — could reflect ambition, bitterness, or resilience.

✍️ Imagine a fairy queen with tattered, barely functional wings — not from battle, but because she gave her flight for power.

Combat, Flight, and Movement

Small wings don’t mean weak characters. In fact, they’re often deadliest in motion.

Zipping Through Battle

Think hummingbird/dragonfly logic: speed, agility, unpredictability.

Fae warriors might use flight to dodge, dart, or launch from trees like wasps with knives.

Your character may not overpower their enemies, but they can outmaneuver them.

When They Can’t Fly

When grounded, wings get in the way. They might drag, snag, or shimmer too brightly in stealth situations.

Some characters might hide them, fold them tightly, or even glamour them away to pass as human.

✍️ Wings as a visible difference can signal everything — pride, alienation, vulnerability. Decide how your character handles being seen.

Worldbuilding Ideas for Faerie/Dragonfly-Winged Characters

Here’s some bonus worldbuilding to enrich your story:

Doorways shaped like arches to allow winged movement.

Suspended walkways, canopy villages, or vertical cities designed for aerial beings.

Wing-care stations: like spas or temples, for grooming, magical repair, or seasonal molting.

Winged court etiquette: a lowered wing as submission, a flare as threat, brushing wings as a form of intimacy.

Final Thoughts

Fairy wings are more than just sparkles and flutter. They can be a lens through which you explore vulnerability, pride, identity, and transformation. They can make your character otherworldly, but also deeply human.

Let them shine. Let them tear. Let them shimmer and fall and rise again.

💬 Reblog and tell me what color your OC’s wings are. Do they hum like cicadas? Pulse like flame? Or barely hold together after what they’ve been through?

And don’t forget to check out Part One: Writing Characters with Wings for everything on wingspans, anatomy, and the practical realities of flight.

[johann-bluespark]

Rain World x Monster Hunter pt. 2

Cyan Lizard

Fanged wyvern

Difficulty: * * * * *

Fast and highly agile. Specialized organs within its torso and tail allow it to perform a charged explosive jump. A set of vents serving as an air intake power a chemical reaction in the tail. During this, the Cyan Lizard will rigify its tail as its specially developed tail scales guide the explosion backwards, allowing a take off in a quick burst.

Back vents are breakable

Breaking the vents or severing the tail will hinder its ability to use a charged jump, doing both will prevent it entirely

Its tongue is shorter and weaker than that of a Red Lizard, hence its grapple is easier to escape from

Higly agile, fast and acrobatic, it uses its charged jump in both attacking and moving around

It can climb on walls and ceilings

Like with other lizards, its head is armored and will bounce bladed weapons

Red Lizard >

I can imagine this guy yeeting itself across half of the locale :>

[nanistar]

SERPENTINE PROMISE | Hidden in Plain Sight.

Serpentine Promise is a 16+ literate Horror / Slasher Warriors RP set on the coast of Belize in the heart of a meteor crater called the Cardinal. This RP takes heavy inspiration from the beautiful indigenous Mayan cultures of Belize for its worldbuilding.

You are part of three groups known as Arrows. You live in relative peace, guided by your Celestial Leaders in the skies above - the Jade Tiger, the Red Tiger, and the Gold Tiger. Centuries prior, these three leaders created the Arrows, but in doing so created something worse. The North Serpent wanted the crater for itself, and would only be satisfied when it ate the sun. The three tigers fought together against the serpent to the death.

In modern times, these Celestial Leaders are growing increasingly distraught, until they disappear one night and leave you with nothing but an omen … Cats around you begin to drop dead soon after. Your objective? Survive. Keep one eye open. Figure out which one of you is slaughtering cats by the dozen, or die trying.

𓆙 ━─┈

🌊THE EAST WAVES Living on the sandy coasts of the Cardinal, the cats of the East Waves are weathered, brave, regal, and know their way around the barrier reef, and the raging seas. 🌴THE SOUTH RAINS Nestled in the dense, lush rainforest of the crater, the cats of the South Rains are intelligent, agile, gifted and flighty. They know how to traverse the land without ever placing a paw on the dangerous jungle floor.

⛰️THE WEST PEAKS Settled in the mountains along the edge of the crater, living within caverns and along cliff faces, cats in the West Peaks are hardy, strong, tough and independent, battling the biggest threats of all — Harpy eagles, amongst other dangerous raptors. 𓆙 ━─┈ WHAT WE OFFER🐍

A safe, secure environment for all with safety nets in place for any incident that would otherwise occur in a large space.

A server open to writers of any experience.

An extremely large expanse of lore and world-building including a glossary of brand new terms, in-depth lore and history inspired by Mayan cultures, unique ranks and roles to each Arrow, and an entirely new herb and medicine system created entirely for the RP, amongst a dozen other additions!

A server run by BIPOC and LGBT+ moderators, including a Belizean admin and consultant.

High Ranks and Roles open for application for writers of any experience and skill level!

RP affiliation / partnership — advertise your RP server in ours!

EXPLORE THE WORLD & APPLY NOW! >> https://serpentinepromise.carrd.co/ << =

(please note that i, nanistar, am NOT the host of this RP. i am merely a moderator and the tumblr liaison. i can answer some basic questions, but for anything more in-depth else please contact BADMIRACLE on tumblr. he is an amazing rp host and has spent months bringing this together and developing this rp.)

[targaryenmarvel]

Fallin' All In You (Part 5) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl. 

Warnings: Only cursing for now

Note: It took me a while to finish this chapter, but here we are. This story was originally going to end in the last chapter, but I decided to extend it and add two more as I felt there was more to tell. If there are any requests, I can continue with the drabbles while I work on my next story. Anyways, enjoy!

Word count: 3,073

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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After your exhilarating day, you rested in bed, grinning at the ceiling like a love-sick fool. The day's events weighed heavy on your mind, the memories making you giddy with excitement and happiness.

You thought of the softness of Wanda's lips and her agile tongue against your own, fighting for dominance. She had ultimately won, rendering you into a whimpering mess in her arms. You had skipped a few steps, but neither of you was complaining. The date would come soon.

Although you shared sweet and tender moments, a question lay heavily over your heads. What were you going to do about Pietro? You had been prepared to confess your feelings for his sister to him earlier. Yet now you weren't so sure on how to proceed. Too entrapped in Wanda's kisses and embrace, you had forgotten to breach the subject. A problem for later, you thought as Wanda sent you a message.

Wanda: Can't wait for our date ❤︎

It wasn't until days later your dread came to a peak. You sat on Pietro's bed with the boy at your side. The both of you clicked away at your controllers, guiding the movement of the figures on the television screen. You were playing the latest FIFA game. Pietro masterfully passed the ball around while you lagged, distracted by your thoughts. 

Guilt racked through your body, forbearing your relationship with Wanda from your friend finally taking a toll. You were ready to proclaim your feelings, but Wanda seemed reluctant. You recalled your conversation with the girl from the day before.

You found yourself freshening up after another game. Your teammates were long gone, and you always seemed to be the last to leave. You were pulling on a clean shirt when you felt a presence behind you. 

"Almost done, Nat," you half-mindedly say, thinking it's Natasha there to scold you for lingering too long.

"Hey," a much sweeter voice called, causing you to turn hastily.

"Hey," you repeated, grinning at the girl.

"Your team was great."

You playfully scoffed, clutching your chest. "Wow, what about me? No compliment for me? Is this about my gigantic ego?"

Wanda chuckled, slowly walking closer like a predator to its prey. "I will admit I'm mildly impressed by the fact you've scored until now."

"Do I get a reward?" you ask as she's inches away from your face.

Wanda rested her hands on your chest, nose brushing against your own. "I don't know. What do you want?"

You couldn't resist any longer as you closed the distance, eagerly taking her lips in your own. Gentle hands pulled you closer by your shoulder as you rested your own on her waist. The kiss was slow, filled with pent-up mutual desire.

You were ready to deepen the kiss when Wanda's phone buzzed, startling you, and you broke away.

"Sorry," Wanda said, checking her phone. "It's Pietro wondering where I am. I should head back. You coming?" 

"Yeah," you answered, grabbing your bag as a frown adorned your features. Guilt had replaced the joy from moments ago. Wanda, of course, noticed your change in mood. 

"What's wrong?" You took your hand comfortingly.

"Nothing." She tilted her head, nonbelieving, and you felt your stomach flip. You sighed, resigned, "It's just Pietro. What are we going tell him?" 

Wanda froze like a deer caught in headlights, startled by your question. Although she, too, had thought of how to proceed with her brother, her thoughts on the subject were much different. 

While Wanda stood there tongue-tied, you took her reaction as doubt, prompting you to ask, "Do we tell him?"

"No!" she said too quickly, and you felt her comforting touch turn into scolding fire. You released her hand, and Wanda realized her mistake. "Y/N, no. It's not like that. I promise I want to tell him I do, but you two are best friends, and I would hate to mess up your relationship. I'm just asking for time."

"Time?"

"Yes, to ensure that what we have is real and will work."

You wanted to tell her you had never been more sure about anything. That you would face the world if she were by your side. Your lips kept sealed, locking away your declarations, scared by the feelings of devotion.

"What's wrong with you today? Pietro's voice pulled you back to Earth as he continued to attack your team without mercy. "You're distracted."

"It's nothing," you answered, flashing back to your conversation with Wanda. You understood her logic for waiting; you did. However, it didn't stop you from hating the idea of keeping Pietro oblivious. You felt like a traitor, a fake friend, for keeping your relationship a secret from him.

"Is it a girl?" he asked out of the blue, and you jolted in his direction, nearly dropping your controller.

You paled. "Wha—why would you think that?" 

"A guess." He shrugged with a grin. "By the look of it, I hit the jackpot. You're having girl troubles, huh? Tell me about her."

"It's complicated." He rolled his eyes and huffed at the lack of information. She wants to keep it a secret for now."

"Are you okay with that?" You nodded slowly with uncertainty. "That's not reassuring," Pietro commented.

You dropped flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating your next word. "I think she's scared of what could happen if things ended badly. I get it and am willing to wait." 

"Alright then, I won't pry. Just know I'm here for you if you want to tell me about her," Pietro said knowingly but then smiled wickedly. "Hey, as long as it's not my sister, you do you. You paled, mortified by his words, and Pietro burst out laughing. "We'd be like divorced parents having to share custody of you. Spending one week with her and one with me. Not to mention, she'd probably turn you into a nerd like her."

At the sound of his words, the heavy sensation settling on your chest lessened until it nearly disappeared. It was all a joke, you thought, relieved.

Pietro threw down his controller on the bed. "I'm tired of kicking your ass. Let's do something else."

"What do you have in mind?" you asked, following him out of his room and casting a spare glance at Wanda's vacant room—the girl on an outing with her friends.

Pietro responded with a smirk, causing a surge of concern to well up within you. You knew you were in for a crazy night.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You won't lie; planning a date was probably the most complicated task you have ever done. Your lack of romantic experience left you spiraling for ideas. After much research, you decided to take Wanda to the fair in a neighboring town. Food, games, prizes, a kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel. The perfect plan.

Putting your plan into action was even easier by Pietro's absence from the Maximoff residence. The boy had left for Crystal's for the day.

As you parked in front of the residence, the younger Maximoff crossed the front door and entered your vision. The sight hit you like a punch in the gut, leaving you breathless and tongue-tied. You approached the girl, wonderstruck by her godly figure, intensified by the encompassing sunlight.

"You look beautiful," you whispered reverently, pulling her waist towards you and disregarding any onlookers.

Wanda flushed at your compliment, hiding her scarlet face in your neck and denying you the warming sight. The only indication of her embarrassment is a muffled "Shut up."

You chuckled, drawing away. "Are you ready?" She nodded, and you pulled her to your car, ready to commence the 40-minute journey.

The two of you stood still, hands tied, taking in the various stalls. Farther up ahead lay the mechanical rides, though you wanted to leave those for later as Wanda pulled you toward a shooting game. Knowing full well that most games were rigged, you followed Wanda like a puppy to the different game stalls. You won a few minor prizes on some games, while Wanda's were usually better. The girl teased you, gloating at her skill in the games, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

You rebounded playing skee ball, a game you loved at the arcade. You started by positioning yourself into a balanced stance, one foot in front of the other and slightly bending your knees. You pulled your arm back and swung from the shoulder, aiming for the 40-point pocket. You watched the ball roll with anticipation, cursing when it flew the mark falling into the 10-point slot. 

Wanda attentively watched as you repositioned yourself for the next throw, heart fluttering at how you cutely scrunched your eyebrows wholly concentrated. 

You tested your throw, trying to get a feel for the ball, and then repeated your actions with adjustments to the toss. This time, the ball landed precisely on the mark. By the end of your nine throws, you had garnered 370 points. You smirked at an impressed Wanda before turning to choose your prize: a stuffed teddy bear you needed to carry with both arms.

"Oh, how cute. I wonder if you'll sleep cuddled with it," Wanda teased lightheartedly. You hummed, getting closer to her, heart beating frantically at her cuteness.

 "Actually, it's a gift for you," you said, offering the bear to her. Wanda stood there at a loss for words, glancing between you and the teddy bear. She mindlessly accepted the bear, gasping for words. Just like she hadn't been gifted flowers, neither had she been given such a gift. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, enchanted by your thoughtful gestures.

"I-I thank you!" she responded, hugging the bear to her chest.

"I hope you think of me when you cuddle it at night," you half-joked, internally wishing she did. Wanda turned red, and it only intensified when you gripped her chin, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

You did give her time to react as you eagerly pulled her to the bumper cars. The air echoed with screams of delight as you chased after each other. It's a game of tag of a sort, except with small, electrically powered cars. By the end of your little game, Wanda again rubbed her victory in your face. She was completely unaware that you had intentionally allowed her to win, finding joy in how her eyes would crinkle with happiness every time she emerged victorious.

After riding the carousel and indulging in a few other thrilling rides, the two of you made your way to the food court, famished after all the exhilaration. You both settled down at a weathered wooden picnic table, the sun filtering through the leaves of the trees overhead. Between you lay two cheeseburgers with fries and your respective drinks, a Coke and a pink lemonade. You gazed longingly at Wanda's refreshing pink lemonade, wishing you had ordered one. 

Of course, Wanda noticed your stare and pushed her drink towards you, offering without saying a word. You hesitated, unsure whether to drink from the straw or remove the lid. 

Wanda rolled her eyes, tentatively poking your lips with the straw. "Oh, come on. Don't act like you haven't had your tongue shoved down my throat."

You flushed at her bluntness, which became more frequent the longer you hung out together. You saw less and less of that shy girl who would stumble with her words or flee in your presence. The developing intimacy revealed a new Wanda that made you fall deeper.

You squirmed under her burning gaze but drank. It wasn't intentional the sensual way you wrapped your lips around the straw, keeping eye contact with her. You swear it wasn't, yet you could feel the air change around you, filling with tension as Wanda's attention shifted to your lips. 

You leaned back, bringing the drink away from your lips with a soft pop. As you did, you ran your tongue over your lips, removing the lemonade remnants and intentionally provoking Wanda.

Wanda's stomach turned, heat creeping out through her body, warming her fingers and toes as desire overtook her body.

The world seemed to stop, and reality faded into the background. All that mattered was the girl in front. As her gaze shifted back and forth between your lips and eyes, you found yourself doing the same, caught in a moment of shared anticipation.

The screams of a young boy, trashing around in his mother's hold, cut through the stare down before you could lean over. You looked around, embarrassed, wanting to see if anyone had noticed, and were relieved to see that no one paid you any mind. If they had, you helplessly hoped they thought you were in an intense staring competition.

Feeling safe from prying eyes, you finally reveled in the embarrassment, cringing at the thought of kissing the girl while leaning over the wooden table. Wanda fidgeted with her hands, suddenly very interested in the chipped wooden table. As you looked back at her, you could tell she was thinking the same thing. But then she met your eyes, mortification evident in her viridescent eyes.

The palpable awkwardness of the situation slowly dissipated, replaced by a shared moment of pure hilarity, as the corner of your mouth twitched, causing both of you to burst into uncontrollable laughter. Wanda took a fry, hitting you in the middle of your forehead. 

You gasped, falsely offended, as you rubbed your forehead. "Oh, it's on Maximoff," you declared, hurling your fry toward her. Wanda ungracefully swayed to the side, narrowly avoiding the thrown object as it lodged in her hair.

She delicately picked at the piece of food, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in surprise. Wanda then tilted her head to the side in a way that made your stomach flutter and said, "Bring it, L/N."

On ensued a food fight that earned you a few dirty looks from bypassers. It only stopped when Wanda took a handful of fries, breaking the unspoken rule of only throwing one fry at a time. You raised your arms and yelled, "Truce!" You slowly lowered one hand, and Wanda jerked her arm in response, observing you. Yet you only took the white napkin and flung it side to side. "I surender."

Wanda brought her hand down, placed the food back on her plate, and turned her lips upward in victory. The remainder of the meal was filled with cheerful and easygoing conversation.

After, you both settled on strolling through the farm zoo, wanting to give your stomachs a break from rides. You'd rather avoid hurling your meal, a hard lesson learned after riding zero gravity minutes after stuffing yourself with elephant ears. It wasn't fun.

Hand in hand, you and Wanda trekked to the various pens containing goats, sheep, pigs, bunnies, chickens, and more. You watched as Wanda adorably fawned over the bunnies, clinging to your arm and pointing at a black and white one.

As the sun set, you made your final rounds to some stalls and rides, even riding the mechanical bull at Wanda's insistence. Let's just say it ended with Wanda hunched in laughter and some blackmail material stored on her phone.

You saved the Ferris wheel for last, knowing night would only make it that more romantic. It seemed your luck couldn't get better, as the Ferris wheel stopped just as you reached its peak, towering over everything and everyone. The scene was nothing short of perfection. The full moon hung low in the sky, casting its gentle glow over the tranquil forest in the distance—a mesmerizing and enchanting picture.

"It's so beautiful," Wanda chimed.

"Yeah," you agreed, looking at her. As the silvery moonlight cascaded over her delicate features, it accentuated her innate, captivating beauty, adding a touch of ethereal allure to her presence.

You didn't feel ashamed when Wanda turned and caught you staring. The tension from earlier returned with a brutal force, knocking the air out of your lungs. The two of you leaned in, air crackling with anticipation. Your lips met in a slow, passionate kiss as warmth rushed through your bodies.

As the kiss intensified, you gently traced your tongue over Wanda's parted lips, silently requesting permission to deepen the kiss. It wasn't until your lungs ached for air that you stopped, gasping to catch your breath as you rested your forehead against hers.

"Thank you for making today wonderful," Wanda whispered, still breathless.

You gently stroked her cheek with your thumb. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

The anticipation and nerves leading up to the date had been overwhelming. But now, as the day unfolded smoothly, you can't help but marvel at how everything had fallen into place. All your nerves seemed absurd after you kissed the girl at the top of the Ferris wheel. "Honestly, I was spiraling over today. I had no idea how to woo you or plan a date," you confessed.

"How to woo me?" Wanda chuckled. "Well, you've done a wonderful job of wooing me, so don't worry. I've never had such a great date." 

Given that her previous date had been with that jerk, Jarvis, there was no doubt in your mind about it. Yet you still questioned, "Not with Jarvis?"

Wanda flashed a smile and rolled her eyes. "No, definitely not with Jarvis." she replied."

"Good," you whispered, your fingers gently tugging at her neck to draw her closer to you. As your lips met, the kiss was tender and brief, filled with warmth and affection.

After the kiss ended, Wanda leaned in and rested her head gently on your shoulder. Gazing out at the scenery, a look of contentment washed over her face.

As the two of you dismounted from the ride, you instinctively reached for each other's hands and couldn't help but giggle with joy. It felt like the rest of the world faded away at that moment, leaving just the two of you in your bubble of happiness. For a second, at least, because in the next, it was ripped away like candy from a child.

"Wanda? Y/N?" The moment's tranquility was abruptly shattered by the unexpected call of a voice, jolting you out of your reverie and forcing you back into reality.

Dread filled your body, and next to you, Wanda tensed, crushing your hand. Yet you didn't pull away, too stunned by the sight before you. There, as shell-shocked as you stood, Pietro and Crystal.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Taglist: @alexawynters

[responsivethoughts]

The F-14 Tomcat

The F-14 Tomcat, an iconic American supersonic fighter jet, gained fame for its swing-wing design and role as a carrier-based interceptor. Developed by Grumman for the US Navy, it entered service in 1974 and was retired in 2006.

The F-14 Tomcat garnered notable performance records during its illustrious service. In 1974, an F-14A set a world speed record, reaching 1,606.342 miles per hour (2,585.086 kilometers per hour) over a 500-kilometer closed-circuit course. Its remarkable speed capabilities were underscored by its ability to exceed Mach 2.

In combat, the F-14 demonstrated exceptional effectiveness, participating in pivotal military operations such as the Gulf War and Operation Enduring Freedom. Its swing-wing design and Pratt & Whitney TF30 turbofan engines endowed it with agility and versatility, enabling precise maneuvering and long-range engagements.

Armed with radar-guided missiles and a powerful radar system, it was designed for air superiority and fleet defense. The Tomcat played a crucial role in various conflicts, including the Gulf War. Its advanced avionics and long-range capabilities made it a formidable adversary.

The F-14's advanced radar systems, including the Hughes AN/AWG-9 and later the AN/APG-71, facilitated multi-target tracking and engagement, particularly with the AIM-54 Phoenix missile system.

Beyond its performance in flight, the F-14 left an indelible mark on popular culture, immortalized in the film "Top Gun." Its enduring legacy as a symbol of American military power and aviation excellence continues to captivate enthusiasts and historians alike.

Though retired, its legacy endures as a symbol of naval aviation prowess and technological innovation.

[cordatumcape]

for day 5 of agnekari week: bewildering grace! ❤️🧡 you are challenged by young couple hikari and agnea‼️

pkmn nicknames and explanations under the cut:

Hikari

Suiren (Samurott): One of Hikari's first Pokémon. Evolves into a Samurott when he fights Mugen.

Explanation:

"A master of a sword-drawing art called iaijutsu, Samurott settles its battles with a single swing of either large sword sheathed in its foreleg armor." "Hard of heart and deft of blade, this rare form of Samurott is a product of the Pokémon's evolution in the region of Hisui. Its turbulent blows crash into foes like ceaseless pounding waves." Hisuian form is used as a reference to Shadow Hikari.

Aylin (Sceptile - Mega Evolution): One of Hikari's first Pokémon. Named by Kura. Can Mega Evolve. Evolves alongside Suiren during Hikari's battle with Mugen.

Explanation:

"The leaves on its arms are as sharp as swords. It agilely leaps about the branches of trees to strike its enemies." Also. Um. Have you played PMD2. Grovyle is there.

Chizu (Skarmory): A common Pokémon seen in Ku. Guided Hikari to safety when he ran away from home.

Explanation:

"People fashion swords from Skarmory's shed feathers, so this Pokémon is a popular element in heraldic designs." Trainers in Ku admire Skarmory for its strength and steel feathers!

Kosei (Clefable): Caught in the Crestlands on the way to Montwise as a Cleffa.

Explanation:

"Some scientists believe that it gazes intently at the sky on nights with a full moon because it's homesick." Found by Hikari as a Cleffa and grew strong through his caring approach to Pokémon training.

Haruto (Gallade): Caught near Wellgrove as a Kirlia.

Explanation:

"The blades extending from its elbows are sharper than the finest swords. Its swordsmanship, albeit self-taught, is astonishingly impressive." "When trying to protect someone, it extends its elbows as if they were swords and fights savagely." "Sharply attuned to others' wishes for help, this Pokémon seeks out those in need and aids them in battle."

Shimo (Mudsdale): Caught on the way to Stormhail.

Explanation:

"It remains calm and unmoving no matter the situation. It mixes dirt with the saliva in its mouth to make a special kind of mud." Also Hikari is 100% a horse-loving guy… Not giving him a Rapidash though, I imagine he has an aversion to fire.

Agnea

Joy (Brionne): Agnea's first Pokémon. A child of her mother's Primarina.

Explanation:

I mean have you seen Brionne. "It gets excited when it sees a dance it doesn't know. This hard worker practices diligently until it can learn that dance."

Gala (Tepig): A rampaging Pokémon that Agnea calmed down before a festival.

Explanation:

The Duorduor from CH1.

Hope (Hisuian Lilligant - Shiny): Caught in New Delsta as a Petilil.

Explanation:

"I suspect that its well-developed legs are the result of a life spent on mountains covered in deep snow. The scent it exudes from its flower crown heartens those in proximity." Attacks with strong kicks, like Agnea.

Merry (Altaria - Mega Evolution): Hatched from an egg given to her by Garud. Born in Tropuhopu, shortly after Agnea decides to go to Merry Hills. Agnea receives a Mega Ring upon winning the Grand Gala.

Explanation:

"Altaria sings in a gorgeous soprano. Its wings are like cotton clouds. This Pokémon catches updrafts with its buoyant wings and soars way up into the wild blue yonder."

Glimmer (Glossifleur): Caught in the Brightlands while Agnea was journeying to Merry Hills.

Explanation:

"It anchors itself in the ground with its single leg, then basks in the sun. After absorbing enough sunlight, its petals spread as it blooms brilliantly." "It whirls around in the wind while singing a joyous song. This delightful display has charmed many into raising this Pokémon."

Jubilee (Flygon): Caught in Ryu as a Trapinch during D&W1

Explanation:

"Flygon whips up a sandstorm by flapping its wings. The wings create a series of notes that sound like singing. Because the "singing" is the only thing that can be heard in a sandstorm, this Pokémon is said to be the desert spirit."

[rainstormwrite]

Your eyes fly open, and your other senses slowly awaken. You’re lying on the floor in some unknown place. Rain’s sound is muffled, with a thunderstorm raging just outside. Your sight falls on the silhouette sitting by the fireplace, murmuring their prayer to the gods. You have no recollection of how you got there.

Furthermore, your brain can’t remember your name. But, it seems that that’s not your only trouble - the door creaks and someone hooded enters the room.

FEATURES

Play as a man, woman, or non-binary.

Travel the world and rule the fates of its many residents.

Decide what are you living for, whether it’s helping other people, upholding the law, or satisfying your own needs (even wicked ones).

Influence other characters’ development, guiding them toward what you desire.

Define your fighting style: be an agile, precise trickster or strong, durable heavy-hitter - or combine it however you want.

Find love, befriend, or antagonize four gender-selectable ROs.

Rise to the highest positions in your kingdom, thus being able to impact its regime.

Spare your enemies ØⱤ ₴Ⱡ₳Ʉ₲Ⱨ₮ɆⱤ ₮ⱧɆ₥ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₵₳₮₮ⱠɆ

The game's events are set in a dark, low, medieval fantasy world, where each step you take needs to be tread lightly. Your journey starts with you awakening in an unfamiliar hut that’s located hell knows where. Try to find out what happened to you, carving out your own story in the process.

LINKS

[DEMO] [FORUM] [PATREON]

[RO's List] Note: I may not answer in-depth RO questions. I consider these characters an integral part of the story, and revealing information about them before the intended point might impact certain aspects of the plot and ruin the atmosphere of the unknown. I hope you can understand me.

[chaninfused]

Roseborn: Part One | Hwang Hyunjin

◤“The ravenous fire that crackled in your souls was one and the same, stoked by repressed fear and the overwhelming desire to survive in a world that only valued material power.”

A human soldier and a magic-less heir find an unlikely connection in their desperate battle to survive House Amaranthine. 

◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. This is the backstory of Hyunjin’s character in my ‘Gilded Kingdom’ wip. Can be read as a standalone. An enemies to lovers, forbidden love, fantasy debacle. Slow burn. Includes lots of angst but also some good fluff. Abusive mother. Descriptions of heavy violence and fighting, as well as blood and injury. Sparse use of vulgar language. Several made up terms are used in this story but are explained throughout. Have a quick read through the Gilded Kingdom World Guide to avoid confusion. 

◤Word count: 16.5K

◤Note: This idea is a 100% mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. masterlist.

◤Dedicated to the lovely @missinghan​! I’ll spare you the excessive sappiness, but just know that our friendship means the world to me, and you deserve nothing short of the world itself. You’re one of the most talented people I know, and I’m constantly in awe of your wonderful ideas and even more wonderful writing. This took criminally long and it’s not yet done, but I can only hope that you enjoy it nonetheless. Happy reading, and I love you so much! ♡

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

She was trying to humiliate him again, and Hyunjin knew it damn well.

He stepped into the flat square of pearly sand, schooling his features into rigid stone as he drew his Kizāri from its sheath on his back. The weapon’s trident-like head trailed in the sand, drawing a perfect half-moon around him until it met the tip of his opponent’s weapon on the ground, wielded in the same fashion.

“Y/n,” his mother had introduced her. “The best human Azārāhi we have.”

It was an insult, glaring and plain. She was mocking his Nilfyn roots by pairing him with a human—mocking the Tilt in him she deemed useless and pitiful.

Hyunjin caught the silver of her hair in his peripheral, piled on her head elegantly like strung starlight. His mother was watching him from where she stood poised as a knife in the shadows. Every blink, every breath of his was under her unrelenting scrutiny. This was a test like many before, and Hyunjin was going to cleave mountains with his bare hands if it warranted his mother’s approval.

He lifted his free hand, curling it into a fist and holding it against his right shoulder in salute. His new training partner mirrored him, her moves practiced to an unnatural degree of precision. Her black Azāri uniform was sharply tailored to her figure, the high collar brushing against her jaw as the ends of her overcoat waved in the slight breeze. Her hair was styled clear of her face, letting her hardened features be illuminated by the morning sun.

Azāri was a delicate fighting art developed by the Nilfyn centuries past, mimicking the fluidity of water in its grace and precision. It required a level of agility unnatural to humans, but stood there, his opponent was every bit the part. Her mortality was only given away by her ears, bare and unadorned. Unlike Hyunjin’s, which were extensively hooped with deep purplish-red Channeling Cores.

Channeling Cores that served little to no purpose.

The air settled around him as though the forbidding pillars surrounding them were holding their breaths, anticipating the lethal whistle of swinging Kizāris. This was a game to his mother, and if Hyunjin wanted to prove himself, then he’d have to kill that human.

As soon as that thought materialized in his mind, her still Kizāri lifted off the ground in a magnificent arc, nearly sweeping him off his feet and spurring him into action. Leaping over the silver head, he swung his own weapon down in a clean diagonal line as his muscles tensed with welcome familiarity.

Kizāris were made to be nearly the height of their users, with long and thin handles, supporting broad, double-edged iron heads that spread like butterfly wings. The weapons moved like pendulums, making dips in the sand that resembled overlapping circles. It was an art, albeit deadly.

Hyunjin fell into the familiar flow of the fight, the faint scream of air as his weapon cut through it was a welcome song to his attentive ears. His blood thrummed, dancing to the steady beat of his heart as his mind whirled with his movements, calculating, strategizing. His eyes followed the blur of her weapon arcing toward him unceasingly, one bold plunge after the other.

She fought impeccably, Hyunjin had to admit. If she were intimidated by him, her stance told nothing of it. His new partner didn’t hesitate to strike first and strike hard, but he was soon able to identify the pattern in her attacks.

Ducking to avoid the silvered weapon swiveling toward his neck, he raised his Kizāri as though to swing it upward. When he saw her eyes follow the movement, her Kizāri turning to clash with his, he reversed his aim and swung it toward her feet, successfully disrupting her balance. In the gasp of her confusion, he lunged, hurling her at the ground with his Kizāri pressed against her chest.

White sand clouded the air after the impact and Hyunjin inhaled. He would drive the weapon into her chest and watch as her mortal blood tainted the sand—show his mother that he refused to accept the insult.

But as he applied more pressure on his Kizāri, he felt the human slacken under him. The prospect of death loomed over him, a destiny and a threat. He expected her to fight back, but she was giving up, her Kizāri a whisper away from her fingertips. Her eyes were fixed on him, stern and unsettling, as if daring him to proceed, glaring at the face of undisputable doom.

It made him pause. But it was too late.

“Pathetic,” she breathed the word as her legs hugged the handle of Hyunjin’s Kizāri and pulled it downward. The weapon flew out of his grasp before he could react, and she was on her feet again, Kizāri in hand. She pushed him to the ground in one swift motion and briefly touched the sharp edge of the iron to his neck.

In one moment’s difference, Hyunjin had proven the weakness he’d been so close to destroying.

The Azārāhi retracted her weapon before turning to where Hyunjin’s mother stood watching. She bowed then stepped out of the square of sand. Its even surface now exhibited the circular indentations of the Kizāris.

Hyunjin couldn’t pull himself up quick enough before his mother’s scathing words lashed at him. There was sand in his hair, dusting his cheeks and muddling the inky black of his attire. His Kizāri was discarded shamefully on the ground. And he was just bested by a human.

The head of House Amaranthine had aimed to humiliate him, and she succeeded.

“How Shameful.”

Those two words landed like a slap to his face.

She was never discrete at expressing her disappointment in him. It was the only emotion she seemed to know how to express. Never pride. Never compassion.

All because he was simply born.

Hyunjin lifted his gaze, willing himself to meet her eyes despite the oppressive urge building up in him to curl into himself and vanish without a trace.

He would allow himself no further humiliation.

“I expect you to train every waking and sleeping hour of the day.” she stepped out into the light, and instantly, the space of the court seemed to shrivel. His mother was carved out of quartz and ivory, her sharp eyes pools of onyx that saw everything. She demanded attention, and a cower from the people who knew her.

Her fairness told nothing of the disdain dripping from her words. “Paint these sands red for all I care.”

Hyunjin was foolish to think he could challenge her gaze with his own. He stared at the disrupted sand beneath him when he forced out an answer.

“Yes, mother.”

•❃•

Life in the Kingdom of Greria was many things, but it wasn’t easy. Not for your kind.

Your villages were small and few, riddled with illness and poverty. Children were forced away from their families for better lives as servants or soldiers, while the elderly were left to rot alone under tattered roofs. Their loneliness was common, expected, even, since most families were prematurely broken by the aristocracy or by death.

The Nilfyn didn’t burn down your homes, but their indifference to your suffering might’ve as well. Their biases killed and tortured and ripped little children from their mothers’ desperate arms. Ruled by an uncaring king and a heartless aristocracy, being born human was condemnation in Greria.

Some might say that you were one of the lucky few. Donated to the Ērmār of House Amaranthine when you were six, you hadn’t set foot in a human village ever since. You were fed and sheltered, and that was a luxury more than most could afford.

The Ērmār was an austere lady. It was rumored amongst the palace servants that her heart was made of an iron so cold it never warmed up.

House Amaranthine operated on that coldness.

The life you led was governed by countless, unchanging rules. You had to watch your every word and action in order to keep your neck intact. And as one of the human Azārāhis, trained to be sacrificed on the first line of defense, you were under the Ērmār’s direct examination. She could deem you unfitting or insolent at any moment, and your life would be tipped over with a wave of her hand.

You were given the merest respect for being an Azārāhi when strolling through town, but you were still a human girl in a warrior’s uniform. A sacrificial lamb. That Azārāhi title was hollow.

And you were reminded of its emptiness when the Ērmār summoned you to train with her son.

Sōrsānt Hyunjin was a presence whispered in the shadows and not uttered aloud in the palace. Very few of you had laid eyes on the House’s only heir, but you all heard about his mother’s contempt for him. The Ērmār was harsh, but she was the harshest on him.

No one understood her reasons, neither did any pity the Sōrsānt. He was a Nilfyn aristocrat after all, with enough privilege to distribute amongst a village and still have an abundance to spare. If anything, you found him pathetic.

And your notion of him was fortified when you first dueled with him. You recognized the insult of your new role as his training partner, and you had expected him to plunge his Kizāri into your chest when he had the chance. You had expected him to show the Ērmār that he wouldn’t let her humiliate him. You had expected him to kill you because that was how things worked in House Amaranthine.

But he hesitated. And he damned the two of you in that fraction of a second.

Weakness was unforgivable. It was a sin. You couldn’t think of a single valid reason for his reluctance, and you didn’t want to know. The Sōrsānt had no business sparing a random human, and if you wanted to keep your place in the palace, then such an incident could not reoccur.

That was what you woke up to ensure.

Just like the previous day, you waited in the Sōrsānt’s training court after finishing your drills. The sun was barely awake, its gradual light painting the slumbering sky in golden hues. It was better that way. If the Ērmār wanted you to train during every waking hour, then you had to be up before the sun itself.

You didn’t wait long before Hyunjin appeared, striding out of the lacquered doors with an ease that could only be found in those carrying aristocratic blood. Something akin to anger twitched in his jaw when his gaze settled on you for the briefest moment. It was as though he were upset by the fact that you arrived before him.

The Sōrsānt was a sight to behold. A presence to be revered. His towering stature was accentuated by attire excellently tailored to his figure, drawing attention to the breadth of his proud shoulders. Half of his long hair was tied up to clear his face, but a few dark strands escaped to frame his countenance regardless. Purplish-red stones encrusted his ears—instruments of summoning magic, marking him as a Nilfyn and specifically symbolizing his relation to House Amaranthine.

In many ways, he was a mirror of the Ērmār. But the ruthlessness that lined her eyes was missing in his, replaced by solemn guardedness. He was a hostile fortress, yet his staggering features demanded lingering gazes.

It was said that their magic made them ethereal like that. Nature’s last favored children. Hyunjin’s eyes seemed to be made of the purest obsidian, wrung from the bleeding heart of the earth itself and shielded by the generous brush of his brows. His full lips were pressed in a line of permanent scorn, as though he couldn’t smile even if he tried to.

Sculpted by iron and starlight, he was beautiful, like all the Nilfyn were. He was also a conceited fool, like they all were.

“Good morning, Sōrsānt.” you kept your tone even, greeting him only for the sake of formalities than actual concern for the quality of his morning.

Haughty as they were, Hyunjin spared your greeting no acknowledgment as he walked past you to the rack of polished Azāri equipment nailed to the wall. You ignored the urge to roll your eyes, fixing them instead on the identical pillars surrounding the court like soldiers on duty. The sand in the center was flattened again, erasing all evidence of the humiliating duel of the previous day.

When the Sōrsānt moved toward the training square, you followed him, situating yourself on one side while he took its opposite. He didn’t bother to lay out the plan for the day’s training. Perhaps he didn’t care, or perhaps he only wanted to spar until one of you fell dead. Whichever it was, you didn’t dwell on it for too long. For all you knew, he expected you to simply know what he wanted and follow along.

You tugged at the leather straps wrapped around your hands, making sure they were secured properly. Reinforced with iron cuffs, the brace was designed to protect an Azārāhi’s wrists from fracturing or dislocating when handling the weight and force of a Kizāri. The weapon was difficult to master and similarly dangerous without the necessary precautions.

Once you were satisfied with the fit of the leather straps, you fixed your footing and inhaled, letting air pass through your lips slowly before letting it out through your nose. Your mind had to be an empty slate before a fight. You couldn’t afford distractions unless you wanted your arm chopped off.

You detached your Kizāri when Hyunjin wordlessly reached for his, letting the head touch the ground and dragging it across the sand in a perfect half-circle. The two blades met halfway, connecting your trails like an incomplete infinity. That was the routine way of drawing the Kizāri during professional duels, one you practiced over and over until it became as natural as breathing.

You raised your free fist to your shoulder, slightly jutting your elbow out in salute. Hyunjin mirrored you, allowing the greeting to settle for a moment before he swung his Kizāri.

Every emotion you painstakingly forced into hiding unfurled at once, fueling your muscles as you countered his attack.

Your Kizāri was an extension of your arm, moving alongside your body as though the two were instinctively aware of one another. You’d long since tamed the weapon, understanding the way it moved not out of necessity, but because you loved the art of Azāri.

You should’ve hated an art developed by the Nilfyn, for the Nilfyn, but you were entranced by its splendor from the moment you first saw the Azārāhis of House Amaranthine thirteen years ago. Their bodies were mere vessels for the fluid movement of the fight, one with the blur of Kizāris. It was enchanting. It was deadly.

An Azārāhi master herself, the Ērmār had been recruiting human students to join her legion of soldiers. So when you showed potential, you were thrust into the tough life of an Azārāhi, never to look back.

You leaped over Hyunjin’s Kizāri when it came arcing toward you, lashing yours in a slanted line he narrowly missed. You had never fought a Nilfyn Azārāhi before the day you were summoned to train with Hyunjin, and you noticed the difference immediately. The Sōrsānt was incredibly lithe, and that agility seemed instinctual, easy. Unlike the overly practiced movements of your fellow human Azārāhis. In another lifetime, you might’ve sat and admired his motion for hours, like a stream of crystal water. A sly breeze. A graceful shadow. A delicate destroyer.

But you weren’t a dreamy girl in that impossible timeline, and you had a warning to deliver to the foolish Hwang Hyunjin.

Anger at him set your blood ablaze, mangled with your silent fear from the previous day. You hadn’t built a life in House Amaranthine for the Sōrsānt to take it away by being cowardly. You refused to let that be the direction of your fate.

Your Kizāris clashed and the curved ends hooked into each other. Seeing the opportunity, you flicked your wrist sideways. Hyunjin’s weapon jerked as a result, distracting him before you swiveled to dislodge your Kizāri and swing it past his neck.

Your heartbeat rang in your ears, deafening.

It all happened in the slight space between a breath and another.

Your Kizāri whooshed behind him before you pulled it back, making its blunt underside catch his neck and drive him toward you until you had your hand fisted in his coat. You were aware of the Kizāri still in his grasp, idle due to the smear of shock that contorted his face, so your words came rushing out. He could snap back into his senses at any moment and cut through you with ease. “I don’t know what made you leave me unscathed yesterday, and I don’t care to know.

“Do not disgrace me before the Ērmār like that again,” you bit out before releasing him and swiftly backing away.

He could kill you for your insolence. He could call for the guards and they wouldn’t question him while dragging you away. But something told you that he wouldn’t. As you trailed a new half-moon in the pearly sand, you knew that his colossal ego wouldn’t allow him to quit the fight so early.

Hyunjin stared at you, his Kizāri limp in his hand, his formidable fortress down. You saw the gall of your actions flit over his features as it sunk into his mind. Your words were clear, the intentions behind them plain, and the set of his eyes darkened with realization soon enough.

You had done it.

He had barely completed his half-circle in the sand before his Kizāri went flying through the air, aimed at you with no space for mistake.

You caught the steel in his eyes, and you wanted to laugh. This was what it felt like to fight a Nilfyn Azārāhi. Brute force and swings aimed to kill. It wasn’t the harmless flow of water, but the slither of a serpent. A dance of venom.

This was Azāri. Relentless and deathly.

Adrenaline surged in your veins as you evaded his blow, swinging your weapon with newfound force. Sand rose in clouds around the two of you. Sunlight pooled into the open court. Your Kizāris never faltered. Your feet never stayed at the same spot for a moment too long. The minutes blurred into each other, and as your muscles screamed against the strain, Hyunjin seemed unaffected. The anger in his focused gaze only seemed to grow, festering into an ugly mess of lethal, unforgiving swings.

The blade of his Kizāri landed on your upper arm in a hazy moment of vulnerability, and before you could register what was happening, it was cutting through the thick sleeve of your overcoat.

He retracted his weapon, and you swallowed a low hiss as the new cut on your arm burned in the dusty air. The only thought that broke through your pained daze was a grim ‘fucking finally’.

This way, they would see that the Sōrsānt injured you during training. They would know that he didn’t value a meager human life and you would be safe from the Ērmār’s retribution. After all, you didn’t want to break the first rule in House Amaranthine.

You were still gripping your Kizāri when you straightened your back, holding Hyunjin’s gaze and ignoring the tingling pain in your arm. He looked at you with his chin in the air as if daring you to wince. Daring you to cry out.

You only dragged your Kizāri through the disrupted sand. A half-moon.

And you drew it again and again until your limbs were no more than floating muscle. Until your mind was no more than a muddle of consciousness. Until you drove your body to the limits of blood loss.

It was better that way.

•❃•

When Hyunjin saw you again, it was as though you hadn’t trailed blood as you left his training court the day before.

You stepped through the door with your head up, shoulders firm, and your Kizāri strapped to your back, only pausing mid-stride for a hesitant moment when you noticed that he had arrived before you.

He watched as confusion, curiosity, and then concern painted themselves on your features respectively. All appropriate reactions, he supposed. It would be deemed highly disrespectful if you kept him waiting, but likewise, he didn’t want you to best him in attendance as well.

It was silly, he was vaguely aware, but this was a competition. Such was life in House Amaranthine. Even the most trivial things mattered.

You cleared your throat shortly after, speaking in the same monotone voice, “Good morning, Sōrsānt.”

Hyunjin didn’t reply, and you both knew that he didn’t have to. Neither of you actually cared about mornings and whether they were pleasant or not.

Taking your positions across the flat square of sand, Hyunjin pretended not to see the way your eyes clenched when you reached for your Kizāri. It was the first sign of pain you showed, and he suspected it would be the last.

He was aware of what you were doing. By making him injure you, you ensured that the palace wouldn’t pay attention to the way he hesitated to kill you first. It was grim, but it helped mask his earlier humiliation.

Though, Hyunjin knew you didn’t do it for him. You did it to protect yourself from him. If his mother grew suspicious, then there was no way to avoid the punishment she would give the both of you. Humans and Nilfyn were not supposed to be friends, and his little slip-up could’ve condemned the two of you.

You drew your half-moons in the sand and began what would become a daily routine—sparring wordlessly until the sun centered the sky.

Hyunjin allowed the faint voice in his head to begrudgingly admire your strength. You were still in pain, he noticed it, but your aim didn’t waver, your swings didn’t weaken. When his mother introduced you as her best human Azārāhi, she had truly meant it. You were an untiring weapon in her mortal arsenal.

Perhaps, in another lifetime, he would’ve been horrified by your endurance. But he wasn’t an innocent boy in that impossible timeline, and those were the cruel instruments to surviving a world that didn’t value you.

The two of you were sparring in rounds each a few minutes long. Hyunjin didn’t miss the looks you were giving him by the end of each one, staring at him like he was a riddle you couldn’t solve while trailing your Kizāri in the sand again. He could guess a hundred reasons behind those looks, and he found that he didn’t care to know which was specifically circling your mind.

But as the day progressed, he began noticing the strange new pattern in your strategy. You were trying to corner him, push him to an edge as though to see how he would react. When he swung his Kizāri at you, you only ducked and arced your weapon to trap his. Then, to his bewilderment, you waited, narrowing your eyes at him as though anticipating his response. When he frowned and twisted his Kizāri free, your unnerving intrigue only increased. It sparkled in your eyes gloriously.

He didn’t like it.

Or more precisely, he didn’t like being the object of your mysterious scrutiny.

Hyunjin stifled a snarl as he swiveled his Kizāri at your feet, raising the pale sand. Goodness, you were really getting on his nerves.

•❃•

It had been a week since you began training with Hyunjin, and although you hated every moment of it, it was a routine you eased into quickly.

Maybe a bit too quickly than you’d like to admit.

The Sōrsānt was an insufferable bastard, but you appreciated the challenge he presented to you. All your previous duels paled when compared to those with him. It was as if you’d finally found a worthy opponent.

That morning started like the rest. You stood in the sand square and dragged your Kizāri through as Hyunjin mimicked you. The soft clink of metal sounded when the two weapons met, and you raised your fist to your shoulder.

Just then, the doors groaned open, and you heard her approach before you turned to see her.

Shrouded in the finest black, the Ērmār’s presence in the training court made the air quiver. You caught the glint of a Kizāri behind the silver glow of her hair and your eyes widened unwisely.

There could only be one reason for that Kizāri.

Immediately, you retracted your weapon and bowed to her, beginning to retrace your steps toward the door at the opposite end of the court when her voice boomed behind you, “Stay.”

You froze at her command, trying to calm the panic rising in your throat as you stood still near the door. Your thoughts pounded against your sanity. She suspects you. This is it. She’s here to end it all.

You were a fool to think your plan would ever work.

Hyunjin glared at his mother as she stepped into the square of sand, undoubtedly displeased by her order for you to stay. She stopped at the spot where you stood moments ago and pulled out her Kizāri, letting it meet his on the ground. Her tone was gravelly demand, unaffected by the irritation in his gaze. “I want to see your progress.”

Hyunjin didn’t answer her, and you could see the clench of his jaw as he bit back any protest he had. A breath too long later, he relented, touching his fist to his shoulder briefly before he swept his Kizāri across the sand in front of him.

You observed them from the side, not bothering to mask your expressions anymore. You didn’t know whether to be afraid, excited, or baffled by the dangerous duel before you.

A visit from the Ērmār never had pleasant results, and your fear was all-encompassing. The last time you’d seen her, she was watching as her son spared your life when he shouldn’t have. She wouldn’t forget, you knew. Eventually, she would decide to finish what Hyunjin couldn’t.

At the same time, you couldn’t drown the thrill pumping in your blood. You’d heard much about the Ērmār’s mastery of Azāri, but you’d never seen her fight. Not until that moment. And you could easily see where Hyunjin earned his fighting style.

The Ērmār was him, except quicker and deadlier. She moved as if she had mapped all his steps beforehand and expected them. He was a puppet in her hands, forced to counter, counter, counter, and never given a second chance to attack.

The Ērmār’s age didn’t seem to give Hyunjin an advantage either. She was a dagger that always landed true, an ancient willow swaying with the wind of the fight.

Then, there was your faint surprise to see the way Hyunjin bent to his mother’s will without so little as an objection. Somehow, you knew what the Ērmār was doing. By letting you watch, she was pushing his humiliation further. It was a twisted play of power that you unfortunately understood. Weakness was a sin, after all.

The duel didn’t last long. Hyunjin held up against the Ērmār’s unfaltering blows impeccably, but one could only defend for so long before an opening showed itself.

And the Ērmār was a keenly perceptive lady.

In a blink, her Kizāri swung skillfully, disarming him successfully and hurtling toward his side. She turned the weapon and its flat side slammed into him, throwing him off balance and sending him to the ground. A puff of dust floated around Hyunjin’s fallen figure, and you grimaced before you could think any better of it.

The Ērmār stood over her son’s body, pristine and undisturbed after their abrupt duel. Her tone was enough to make flowers wilt. “And I didn’t even need my magic to best you.”

Hyunjin was still sprawled on his side, and you found yourself urging him silently. Get up. Get up, you absolute buffoon.

As if he could hear you, he pushed himself to his feet, fighting back a wince as he met his mother’s withering gaze. Sand was powdering the side of his face and chalking his dark hair, but that didn’t seem to bother him. The words left his lips quietly, seething, “You say this, but my father bested you without—”

“Your father was too incompetent to keep himself alive. Do you wish to compare yourself to him?” she snapped, suffocating whatever flame of courage he had kindled for himself at that moment.

He lowered his eyes, squeezing his fists and dropping his shoulders, truly defeated. “No, mother.”

The Ērmār didn’t grace him with a response, simply looking him over with a disappointed click of her tongue before she turned and left. Only when the doors echoed shut behind her did Hyunjin lift his gaze, letting it crash on you instantly. A maelstrom of anger and humiliation.

He picked up his Kizāri and stalked in your direction. You opened your mouth to speak, but he only shoved past you, wordlessly pushing the door open and disappearing into the palace.

You had sworn to never feel sorry for the Sōrsānt. But at that moment, standing alone in his training court, your heart broke the vow of your better judgement.

•❃•

You could tell that Hyunjin’s mind was elsewhere when his Kizāri flew out of his grasp upon clashing with yours.

It was a mistake only a beginner would make.

You heaved an exasperated breath and stabbed the ground with your Kizāri, glaring at a confused Hyunjin while he stared blankly at his disgraced weapon. With a shake of his head, he crouched down and grabbed the handle, dragging the Kizāri with him to his side of the sand square.

He drew a new half-moon then looked up at you, surprised to find you unmoving at the center of the court. He lifted a brow in mute question, and you frowned, unable to keep the frustration to yourself anymore.

“Why didn’t you say no?”

He didn’t owe you conversation. He didn’t need to talk to you unless he had an order to give. The Nilfyn were above engaging with simple humans.

That didn’t stop you from pressing further, hefting your Kizāri with two hands as you stepped toward him. “I didn’t have to see that, and you could’ve objected.”

Silence.

You let out a sizable sigh. Of course your attempts wouldn’t make him budge.

Returning to your spot, you shaped your half-circle and fell back into the rhythm of the fight. But the unanswered questions and his curious behavior seemed to bubble over in your mind. If the Ērmār was using you against him, for whatever reason, then you were in immense danger. You weren’t willing to let Hyunjin go until you had your answers.

Seemingly distracted as he was, Hyunjin let his Kizāri swoop lazily and you took that opportunity to arc your weapon toward the ground, successfully trapping his in the sand. You swiftly set a foot on the blunt underside of his Kizāri, its head now buried in the sand, and threw your best glare at the Sōrsānt. He’d have to counter the full weight of your body and the fix of your Kizāri if he wanted to free his weapon.

“I need answers.”

At your shameless demand, a scowl distorted Hyunjin’s handsome features. He tugged on his Kizāri, and you pressed your foot harder in response. It was his fault for allowing you to trap him so easily anyway.

“Why didn’t you object?”

His grip on the Kizāri’s handle tightened, but he remained silent. Your frustration only multiplied. He was more stubborn than a traitor in interrogation.

“Why did you let the Ērmār humiliate you like that?”

He turned his face away in a show of disinterest, but you saw the tick in his jaw. He was getting irritated.

“You’re the Sōrsānt, for goodness’ sake! Why do you feign weakness?”

That seemed to do it. He snapped his head toward you, eyes thundering with turbulent anger and another emotion you couldn’t quite place. The steely edge of his words could break stone. “You don’t know me.”

“Oh? I think I’ve seen enough to know what I need to know. You’re conceited, callous, and careless, and you’re weak. Why am I training with you?”

Hyunjin kept his lips pressed together, his frown deepening. You were the one being careless with your words, but you couldn’t stop. Once they slipped past your lips, all your thoughts came tumbling out.

“You don’t use your magic.” your statement sounded more like a question. You had been observing him during your training hours, and he never resorted to an Elemental Tilt to turn the tides of your fights. Hyunjin relied on his skills solely, and although it made the match between the two of you a notch fairer, it was suspicious. The Nilfyn prided themselves on their magic.

You leaned closer, lowering your voice skeptically, “Unless…you don’t have magic.”

He flinched at that—flinched—and you didn’t pretend to overlook it, murmuring, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You retracted your Kizāri from the ground and lifted your foot from his weapon, raising your chin in challenge as you stepped away. Almost immediately, Hyunjin’s Kizāri swung at you, frantic yet precise. Metal clashed on metal, and you were pivoting away, fighting the crazed laugh threatening to erupt in your chest.

It was almost too easy to rile Hyunjin up.

If the Sōrsānt had no magic, then that meant that he was an illegitimate child. That would explain his avoidance of using it and might be the reason behind the Ērmār’s harshness with him.

If he had no magic, then that meant that he was a human like you. You only needed to prove it.

You lowered your guard, purposely giving Hyunjin the chance to disarm you. His swings, whereas still strong, were erratic, as though he was desperately fighting for his life. His dark eyes were glazed over with that same desperation.

Reminiscent of your first duel, he pushed you to the ground, pressing his Kizāri against your chest. Your weapon slipped out of your grasp.

You inhaled sand, looking up at him with a satisfied smirk. “See? No magic.”

Before giving him time to react, you raised your legs to hook them around his and toppled him over. In the breath of his surprise, you snatched his Kizāri, rolling and pinning him under you easily. You clutched the weapon like a spear as you aimed it at his neck, barely hearing your voice over the wild beating of your heart. “You’re powerless. You’re a liar.”

His beautiful face was marred with distress and fury, and with a sharp pang of realization, you recognized the emotion that filled his eyes moments earlier. Fear.

Hyunjin’s hand gripped your wrist to divert the Kizāri. A growl rumbled in his throat as he tried to wrestle you off and regain the upper hand. He didn’t acknowledge your accusations while the two of you tumbled across the court.

Your back hit the soft sand again as Hyunjin held you down, his hand slamming into the ground beside your head. His Kizāri was discarded. The strands of hair that framed his face whispered against your skin when he leaned in, seething, yet so incredibly vulnerable. He rasped, the smoothness of his voice hardening into ice despite the warmth of his presence. “You don’t know me, human.”

Then, as if struck by lightning, his eyes enlarged, and he scrambled off you suddenly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his bizarre change of behavior, noticing a moment too late that you had been holding your breath.

With a grunt, you pushed yourself to your feet. Blood was rushing through your system too quickly, but you weren’t going to let Hyunjin flee just yet. You needed answers, and this fight wasn’t going to end until you had them.

You turned to find your Kizāri and paused, eyes landing on a single flower resting on the pearly sand.

Right where Hyunjin’s hand had hit the ground.

A flower, where there was nothing but sand before.

•❃•

Hyunjin wanted the ground to swallow him.

Horror streaked his face as he stared at the flower that sprung amid the bleak sand.

He knew he made it bloom. In a surge of fear, he lost control of his idle magic. He felt it gush through his body, cold yet soothing, felt the lingering tingle on the tips of his fingers—the kiss of the flower’s petals on his palm before he scrambled away, panicked.

You crouched down and pulled the stray bloom out of the sand. The small tangle of roots let up easily. Cupping it gently, you snapped your head up at Hyunjin, meeting his terrified gaze with wonder.

Some part of him faltered.

It screamed and shook with a violence so tremendous it snatched his breath away—a part that longed for acceptance and approval. He hated the way your simple expression seemed to rip him apart, hitting every brick he painstakingly stacked to build the fortress around his heart.

Your awe was sweetly revolting, your whisper too loud for his liking. “This is your magic.”

The flower in your hands had unfurled like a rose, its wide petals curling outward in a shy blush. A single leaf padded the blossom, brilliant in its green sheen. It seemed to smile at the two of you, urging you to caress its soft petals.

It was beautifully horrible, Hyunjin thought. He had to discard it before his mother learned of his slip up.

But before that, there was the problem of you.

Deciding he could no longer look at his mistake lying prettily in your cupped palms, he diverted his gaze elsewhere. Only then did he find his voice. “You were not supposed to see that.”

“Why?”

He’d asked himself the same question every day of his nineteen years. Why did he have to hide his Tilt? Why wasn’t he allowed to practice his magic? His mother’s voice sounded in his head, her words slipping out of his lips unthinkingly, “A Flowering Tilt is of no use to an Azārāhi.”

“You have magic, and you’re deeming it useless?”

Hyunjin fought back a sigh. He had already said too much. He shouldn’t have been entertaining you in the first place, but you seemed to have a knack for making him act against his better judgment.

“It is useless to me.”

Silence stretched between the two of you until you finally said, “You don’t believe that.”

What a feeble, feisty human soul.

He turned to face you again, avoiding looking at the glaring blossom in your hands. “When will you stop thinking that you know me?”

“I can identify a lie when I hear one,” you only shrugged, and he almost admired your boldness. Surely, you understood the danger of speaking to him so freely.

Yet, you demanded answers and it was clear that you weren’t leaving him alone until you acquired them.

Hyunjin huffed, the truth tasting sour on his tongue, “It doesn’t matter what I believe. If the Ērmār thinks that my Tilt is useless, then it is.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he beat you to it, wanting to end this conversation before he did something he regretted. He’d give you the answers you wanted, and nothing more. “This House obeys her word, not mine.

“I couldn’t object yesterday because I don’t have the power to. I don’t use my magic because I don’t need to. And I didn’t choose to be paired with you. I don’t want to do this any more than you do. This was the Ērmār’s decision alone.” he crossed his arms, raising a brow. “There are your answers. Satisfied?”

You clamped your mouth shut then, and Hyunjin knew that that would be the end of it.

His heart was beating with a desire to indulge itself in the now distant memory of your fascination, but he ignored it. Picking up his Kizāri, he strode toward you and extended his hand. “Give me the flower.”

You handed it to him wordlessly, and with an unreasonable pang, he realized it was for the better. Your silence was better for the both of you.

Hyunjin crushed the blossom in his fist, snapping its stem and forcing his emotional ramparts up. He had messed up enough for a thousand lifetimes. This mistake could not happen again.

He made his way to the double doors then halted with his free hand on one of the handles. “Oh, and, Y/n?”

He turned to find you looking at him, waiting with your expressionless mask back on. His warning was whispered, but the faint breeze carried its weight to your ears before buckling under. It settled bitter in the disrupted sand. “If word of my magic spreads around the palace, I’ll finish what we started on our first duel.”

Hyunjin didn’t know if he truly believed those words, but you had claimed to be able to discern a lie upon hearing one. He hoped you would be able to tell him in due time.

•❃•

Silver plates clinked softly as servants set the first course on the table, a mouthwatering display of the House’s best: Pine-Stuffed Eggs arranged like bursting stars. Fresh spinach leaves tossed with vibrant berries in a unique concoction of lemon cider and sesame oil. Roasted Pillow-Top Mushrooms bronzed by cinnamon and freckled with salt flakes. Pale blades of fermented Bone Grass accompanied by a mound of floral Moon Cheese.

It was food fit for the start of a feast, but only four people sat at the long ivory table.

Hyunjin’s gaze traveled politely over his mother’s guests, the Sōrmār and Sōrsānt of House Sapphirine. They sat proud, squaring their shoulders and flaunting their adorned ears. Their grayish-blue Channeling Cores were cut into smooth round shapes, pierced in decreasing size from the earlobe to the helix. The blue of their attire was stark against the grim palette of House Amaranthine.

But that was as far as they stood out. Those Nilfyn were just like Hyunjin and his mother, aristocrats who were always scheming, devising, and calculating. Life was nothing but a mere game of power to them, and tonight’s feast was an opulent performance of such.

The Sōrmār of House Sapphirine was stern-looking, with cheeks that hollowed in despite his wealth and eyes that never exposed his true emotions. His late wife bore him one heir, whom he paraded around like a prize.

Sōrsānt Juyeon was everything Hyunjin’s mother wished her son had been. He was haughty, cruel, and powerful. All the things Hyunjin couldn’t feign strongly enough.

They were both born with Hybrid Tilts, but while Hyunjin’s was useless, Juyeon’s was dangerous.

His Corrosive Tilt allowed him to create chemicals that ate away at human flesh and dissolved stone. He could bring down entire villages if he wanted, torture them until nothing remained but ghastly bones.

He saw it once, and while his mother clapped for the performance, Hyunjin couldn’t silence the echo of those tortured screams as the human’s skin melted off.

It was a wicked kind of pleasure he never understood.

Once the servants stepped away from the table, the dining began. Hyunjin kept one ear on the conversation happening between his mother and the Sōrmār while he scooped some of the salad onto his plate.

“Morileus’ soldiers were spotted near the border earlier this week,” the man had said, and his mother entertained him, “So I hear. They must be scouting for those rebels of theirs. They wouldn’t dare cross over.”

“It’s unbelievable how the Ambellium continues to evade him after all these years.”

“It is incompetency on the King’s behalf, nothing more.”

Hyunjin tuned out the rest of their conversation in disinterest. The bizarre political state of their neighboring Kingdom, Morynna, was a recurring subject in aristocratic dinners. Their seemingly immortal king had been ruling long before Hyunjin was born, and as far as anyone could recall.

Anyone but the citizens of his Kingdom.

To them, King Morileus was the Eternal King, his throne and power unquestioned. They found no fault in his endless rule.

Hyunjin visited Morynna once during a diplomatic trip with his mother. He remembered Moryns greeting them with glazed over eyes and tireless cheer. Unnatural, like sentient puppets. Royal soldiers permanently swarmed their streets, but they didn’t seem to mind. All the people did was sing Morileus’ praises, for he had saved them from the savage Silfyn.

The Nilfyn weren’t always nature’s favored children. Four centuries past, the old Morynna was ruled by humans alongside the powerful Silfyn, enchanting creatures that were said to have raised the Kingdom’s imposing capital from desolate earth.

Their magic knew no bounds, transcending the barriers of one’s soul and reaching for the seams of existence itself. If Hyunjin could make a flower bloom, then they could awaken gardens across deserts. If Hyunjin’s mother could manipulate water, then they could split the mighty sea. If Juyeon could destroy a village, then they could bring entire kingdoms to their knees. It was even said that some could raise the dead from their rest.

Yet, all that power didn’t save them from slaughter. Perhaps that was where the Nilfyn earned their abundant arrogance. Despite being restricted by their magic, they were the only remaining magical race.

“Is Hyunjin still Unclaimed?”

Hyunjin’s fork froze on his plate, and he looked at the Sōrmār with masked nervousness. The memory of the blushing blossom in your hands flickered in his mind, fresh and frightening. Tender.

“Unfortunately. His Tilt is yet to show,” his mother lied, to which the Sōrmār nodded sympathetically. His true condescending intent was obvious in his tone. “His case is a peculiar one, but a Nilfyn is a Nilfyn. His magic will appear eventually.”

Hyunjin felt Juyeon’s smug gaze on him, and he suppressed the urge to glare in response. In this game of power, he must’ve thought himself Hyunjin’s better simply because he had magic.

Their patronizing didn’t go unnoticed by the Ērmār, who responded curtly, “We are anticipating signs of his Tilt, but we are in no rush. Hyunjin’s mastery of Azāri is unmatched and unaffected by his lack of magic.”

Hyunjin wanted to feel the prickle of pride, to sit straighter and match Juyeon’s smugness, but the sweet tanginess of his food turned bitter in his mouth.

Unmatched mastery? He scoffed inwardly. That was not what she had said when she stood over him in the training court.

“Ah, do tell! I’ve been eager to see your famed Azārāhis,” the Sōrmār barked a resonant laugh, to which Hyunjin’s mother smiled. Charming, but anyone who bothered to look would see the icicles behind her expression. “Of course. They are waiting for us.”

•❃•

Hyunjin had only seen his mother’s miniature army twice before, and each time, it grew impossibly.

The court they stood in was ten, or maybe twenty times the size of his personal training court, packed with grim-faced Azārāhis. Their black overcoats were a void night sky, their Kizāris a shimmering sea of silver.

One thousand, four hundred and thirty-seven Nilfyn Azārāhis, Hyunjin had the number memorized, more than double any of the other Houses’. They stood in orderly clusters in accordance with their respective Tilts. Their hair was pulled back or sheared to display their ears, encrusted by a pattern of black and purplish-red rings. Soldiers of House Amaranthine.

Hyunjin stole a glance at Juyeon and his father, drinking in the astonishment they failed to conceal.

His mother’s success with Azārāhis was rightfully enviable. A startling majority of aspiring warriors had pledged allegiance to her House over the other six, aiming to be part of its illustrious history. It made her an ever-growing force to be reckoned with.

“Before you are the best of our Azārāhis, those who have completed extensive levels of training and continue on the path toward mastery,” Hyunjin’s mother declared, her voice filled with self-centered pride. She considered each of the Azārāhis her achievement alone. “Allow them to perform for you.”

On cue, the first group of Azārāhis stepped forward while the rest backtracked. Their leader introduced them as the Hydro Contingent, soldiers with the same Tilt as the Ērmār.

Hyunjin watched as their Kizāris swung in magnificent curves, creating arcs of crystal water as the weapons clashed mercilessly. A spectacle of both magic and skill. Their Kizāris weren’t just blades, but magic wielding instruments.

The Pyro Contingent was next, setting their Kizāris and their bodies ablaze, followed by the Aeros who created mighty whirlwinds with the swoops of their weapons and flew after their opponents. The group of Terrestrial Tilts was the last of the Old Disciplines, raising the pearly sand in forbidding shapes and transforming the terrain as they sparred.

Then, the Hybrid Types began their performances: Mirroring Tilts who split into a hundred duplicates. Fuming Tilts who blanketed the court in dense smoke. Grounding Tilts who sparred upturned in the air. Corrosive Tilts who liquified solid training dummies. Bestial Tilts who commanded vicious wolves. Metallic Tilts who turned their bodies into impenetrable steel. Photo Tilts who manipulated light to appear invisible. Sound-bending Tilts who deafened their opponents. And finally, Metamorphic Tilts who slithered as snakes in the sand.

Every known Hybrid Type had been present except one.

There was no Flowering Contingent.

Your earlier words rang in Hyunjin’s mind, chastising, you have magic, and you’re deeming it useless?

He found himself wondering what Flowering Tilts would do in such a presentation, but the only answer he could think of was utterly frivolous. Turning the square of sand into an exquisite garden would impress no one, and likewise endanger nobody.

The Sōrmār of House Sapphirine’s hollow praises drowned in the background as Hyunjin trailed behind them, leaving the court, mind elsewhere.

No matter how hard he tried to accept the bar on his magic, it never felt right. Regardless of his Tilt’s so-called uselessness, it was still part of his soul.

Watching the Nilfyn Azārāhis made him feel as though he’d been robbed of something he never had in the first place. An emptiness that could never be satiated.

The four of them stepped into a significantly smaller court, where an array of Azārāhis stood rigidly. Their number was many times lesser than the previous soldiers’, but the feat of their achievement was equally impressive.

“Our young troop of Human Azārāhis,” the Ērmār announced with a flourish. “A hundred and eighty-one.”

As if by some mysterious force, Hyunjin’s gaze was drawn to you at the front of the group. You stood alone in the first row, an amaranthine band on your arm differentiating you as their leader. The sand that covered you earlier that day was washed away, your uniform crisp and clean, your Kizāri strapped comfortably to your back.

You kept your gaze forward, impassive, and Hyunjin felt the mystifying weight of your silence again.

Your fist met your shoulder roughly as your voice carried out across the court. “Heed!”

The following sound of fists was like rain on stone. All the Azārāhis bowed in eerie unison, their Kizāris glinting in the bright light of the lanterns surrounding them.

“As you know, teaching Azāri to humans has always been difficult due to their flimsy nature,” Hyunjin’s mother told the Sōrmār, “But I have found an effective training method with this group, and their numbers will only increase from here onwards.”

She gave you a slight nod and you turned on your heel, gesturing toward an Azārāhi on your right while the rest stepped away to clear the square of sand. The two of you moved to opposing sides of the court, pulling out your Kizāris and trailing them across the sand in symmetrical half-moons.

The Azārāhi you chose had a massive build, his bulky shoulders and muscled arms straining against the sleeves of his uniform. Years of training were visible on his physique. A scar ran faint against his olive complexion, cutting across the hard edge of his cheekbones. When you finished your salute, he raised his Kizāri first.

You leaped out of his range with ease, and Hyunjin allowed himself a moment of pride. Your performance didn’t burst with splendor and magic, your Kizāris didn’t catch flame or summon lightning, but it filled Hyunjin with the soothing warmth of familiarity.

This was the Azāri he knew. A waltz of iron and sand. The pure mastery of the Kizāri.

No magic was involved. It was only a battle of skill.

Hyunjin had sparred with you enough to familiarize himself with your fighting style but watching you from the sidelines was a wholly different experience. He could appreciate your evident talent without simultaneously fearing for his life.

Your Kizāris clashed, and it wasn’t long before you skillfully disarmed your opponent and briefly touched the sharp edge of your weapon to his neck.

Your short performance for the Ērmār and her guests was over, and Hyunjin forced his attention back to his companions, reprimanding himself silently. He shouldn’t feel so connected to a group of frail humans.

Oh, but you weren’t frail, and Hyunjin knew it very well.

“Impressive,” the Sōrmār remarked, and his son stepped forward, strangely eager as he addressed you, “What is your name?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Y/n, sir.” You didn’t use his Sōrsānt title since you were pledged to House Amaranthine, and as such, the only Sōrsānt you recognized was Hyunjin.

Juyeon raised his chin in abundant arrogance. “I would like to see her skill personally.”

Hyunjin stiffened, and he caught you doing the same. He was sure his mother did too, but she hid it better than any of you.

Juyeon’s intentions were obvious. It was clear that you were a valuable asset to the Ērmār’s arsenal, and a duel with him would end with your definite death.

Hyunjin’s mother wouldn’t let a member of a rival House kill her soldiers. But if she refused his request, she would be showing concern over a lowly group of humans. The Ērmār couldn’t let that tarnish her reputation either.

After an uncomfortable moment of consideration, she waved her hand dismissively. “Go ahead.”

Juyeon smiled as though humbled by her approval and walked into the square of sand. His bronzed Kizāri winked wickedly from where it was fixed at his back as he situated himself opposite to you. He drew it in a half-circle, and you mimicked him without protest.

Hyunjin didn’t understand the game his mother was playing, but he hoped she knew what she was doing. The uneasy voice in his head depended on it.

If Juyeon ended the fight the way Hyunjin couldn’t, then his weakness would be forever solidified.

You let Juyeon have the first swing, leaping over the head of his weapon as you brought your Kizāri down diagonally in response. Your weapon swiveled expertly in your grip, deadly in its perfect aim. It was the one thing that remained constant in a fight that soon became messy.

Hyunjin was aware of Juyeon’s abilities, and without the threat of his magic, the Sōrsānt of House Sapphirine was average at best. If he kept things fair, you could easily claim a win over him.

But this fight was never fair.

Hyunjin didn’t know why, but it angered him to see you hold back. You were giving Juyeon the illusion of a fight, allowing him to strike at you and parrying endlessly, calculating your attacks such that they narrowly missed him every time. Even though Hyunjin was sure you could’ve disarmed him after a couple of tries.

You were only delaying impending slaughter by a less than competent opponent. Simply because you couldn’t overstep your manners, all while trying to prove your capabilities to the Ērmār.

Juyeon was beginning to tire of your resistance, it was clear in the agitated energy that wobbled his aim. You swiftly adjusted to accommodate his wearing out. It only annoyed him further.

The Ērmār was watching grimly, her lips pressed into a stern line. Hyunjin knew that her mind was whirling with schemes, ploys to set her foot down again and put Sapphirine back in line. Their game of power was constantly shifting, its winds eternally changing.

Hyunjin couldn’t stop to try at guessing his mother’s plans, for he saw Juyeon raise his Kizāri, eyes blazing with maliciousness. He felt you slacken against the press of his blade again, the memory unwelcome. A moment too late, and your tormented screams would fill the court.

Without much thought, Hyunjin found himself blurting, “Juyeon!”

The mentioned Nilfyn paused, turning curiously as Hyunjin made his way to the two of you. He could feel his mother’s blistering gaze on his back, but he disregarded it, steadying his breathing. He would either make his place known in this tug of power or doom himself.

“Enough wasting time with insignificant humans,” Hyunjin said, willing all the authority he could muster into his voice. He grimaced inwardly at his hollow flattering. “You should spar with someone of your caliber.”

That seemed to amuse Juyeon, who settled his Kizāri on the ground with a quirk of his dark brow. He wouldn’t back down from such an invitation. “You are right.”

Hyunjin assumed the spot where you had been standing, barely catching your faint murmur of ‘Sōrsānt’ as you bowed to him and stepped away. The soft padding of your shoes against the sand faded away. His intervention caused no uproar, though he vaguely remembered your angry warning. Do not disgrace me before the Ērmār.

He unsheathed his Kizāri, trailing its familiar weight across the sand to meet his opponent’s. The two weapons clanged, silver against bronze. Hyunjin saluted, and Juyeon followed him, wearing an expression he could only liken to a vulture’s. He thought their duel would be a victory handed to him graciously.

Hyunjin wanted to laugh. Someone had to humble the Sōrsānt of House Sapphirine before his own ego devoured him, and he would gladly take the job. With a swing of his Kizāri, they plunged into the haze of sand.

His opponent would not withhold his magic, Hyunjin knew. But he had spent his years training with Claimed Nilfyn. He knew how to work around their magic when he had none. It was a skill not many cared for, but he was his mother’s son after all. He could fight blind if he had to.

He pivoted away, making Juyeon’s clumsy Kizāri sink into the ground. The sand sizzled, dissolving.

That was all it took. Mere contact.

Hyunjin’s Kizāri might’ve been made with enchanted and reinforced iron, but his skin wasn’t immune to magic. He would suffer the same fate as that unfortunate helping of sand.

He swung his weapon low, slamming it into the bronzed Kizāri still planted in the ground and causing it to rip out of Juyeon’s grip. His magic disconnected instantly.

Too bad Hyunjin wasn’t planning to dissolve any time soon.

His Kizāri flew again, rushing towards a disoriented Juyeon. Hyunjin twisted his wrist such that the impact didn’t kill him, and the flat side of the weapon collided with his middle. With a choked noise, Juyeon lost his footing, surrendering to gravity ungracefully.

His ribs would bruise, maybe crack slightly, but that was the message Hyunjin wanted to deliver. The Azārāhis of House Amaranthine were not to be challenged, magicless or not.

He brushed the blade of his weapon against Juyeon’s neck, not drawing blood but making his victory clear. Securing his Kizāri back in its sheathe, Hyunjin turned and held his mother’s cold gaze. He didn’t shy away. He didn’t shrink into himself when she narrowed her eyes at him as though he were a piece of a puzzle she had overlooked.

It would take more than one spar to earn her praise, but this was enough. She didn’t scathe him with her disappointment, and it was more than Hyunjin could’ve ever asked for.

The Sōrmār’s disappointment, on the other hand, was darker than the night sky canopying the court. “You are right. Hyunjin is a remarkable Azārāhi despite being Unclaimed.”

“Of course I am,” the Ērmār huffed, drawing her shoulders back and heading towards the lacquered doors. “We must move along. We’ve spent far too much time idling in this court.”

As Hyunjin followed his mother and her guests out, he tried to convince himself that his intervention was solely for his own reputation.

That it had nothing to do with you—the only person who looked at his magic with something other than horror and mortification.

•❃•

Your Kizāri caught Hyunjin’s in the air, and you pulled the two of them toward the ground. Your muscles sang with the strain as you swiftly dislodged and touched the edge of the Kizāri against the soft skin of his neck.

One round, over.

The steady rhythm of your inhales and exhales filled your ears, sonorous, as you jogged back to your place, readying to start anew. When you looked up again, you found Hyunjin unmoving in his place.

His stare was curious, almost like a child’s. He parted his lips as though to say something, but no sound left him. He pressed them shut again.

Perhaps he thought better of it, you reasoned, watching as he treaded gracefully to the other side of the square.

You decided to shrug off his strange behavior, beginning to draw a new half-moon instead. Hyunjin started to mimic you, his Kizāri cutting through the sand toward yours before it halted suddenly.

“Are you not mad at me?”

Hyunjin’s voice was rich velvet, smooth unlike the confusion that wrangled your mind. You matched his narrowed eyes with a plain frown. What has gotten into him?

He had made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you. Your last interaction in his training court said as much. Yet, there he was, initiating conversation when there was none to be had.

Was this some sort of test? You maintained your silence until you couldn’t bear the heaviness of his gaze anymore, tightening your grip around your waiting Kizāri. “Why would I be?”

He hesitated as if he didn’t know how to phrase it. “I intervened in your duel with Juyeon last night.”

Right. That.

You diverted your eyes, recalling the dread that overcame your mind when the Sōrsānt of House Sapphirine requested to spar with you. You weren’t stupid. His intentions were unmistakable. Your tone was frayed with anger and shameful helplessness. “He was going to kill me.”

“I know.”

You scoffed. “Don’t think that I would believe, even for a moment, that you did it to spare me.”

“Oh?” he tilted his head, raising a brow, to which you reminded him pointedly, “You had threatened to do the same only hours prior.”

“Ah,” he mused drily. “Clever, human.”

You made no effort to hide the roll of your eyes. Exasperated, you tapped the ground with your Kizāri to remind him of the purpose you were there for.

Hyunjin didn’t budge. His Kizāri didn’t move. He was waiting for something, though you couldn’t quite place a finger on it. Standing there and watching you, that child-like curiosity resurfaced again.

You sighed quietly. “Sōrsānt, if you wish to end today’s training session, then I will take my leave.”

“But we’ve only begun,” he glanced at the young azure of the morning sky, and you nodded. “Indeed.”

But that didn’t spur him on. His face remained a blank slate, save for the strange twinkle in his beautiful eyes.

You prayed for patience, placing both hands on the handle of your Kizāri and leaning forward. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Sōrsānt?”

His mouth formed a ‘No’, but he hesitated, and it never sounded.

You muttered a curse under your breath. Fine! the thought rang in your head. Since you had wasted so much time already, you didn’t see why you couldn’t feed your curiosity about the previous night’s events.

You lifted your Kizāri, jutting it at Hyunjin inquiringly. “He called you Unclaimed.”

That snapped him back into his senses, it seemed, for he made a disgruntled noise and began mindlessly twirling his Kizāri in the pale sand. “That is the term they use for Nilfyn whose Tilts haven’t shown yet.”

“But you…” you trailed away as the pieces lined up for you. Hyunjin’s Tilt had shown, but no one knew about it because he hid it. You remembered his bitter words. A Flowering Tilt is of no use to an Azārāhi.

“Does the Ērmār know about this?” you whispered, regretting your reckless curiosity.

“Of course she does,” it was Hyunjin’s turn to scoff. Then, he added in a lower voice, “She’s the one who wants it hidden.”

Your blood ran cold. If the Ērmār knew, and she wanted his Tilt hidden, then why were you in this mess? Why did Hyunjin let you see his magic?

Dragging your Kizāri with you, you marched up to him and demanded in an irate whisper, “If this is such an important secret then why did you show me yesterday?”

“I didn’t want to show you.” Hyunjin’s taut features broke into a scowl, and he pulled his Kizāri closer.

“What, then?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Then, so softly you almost missed it, he spoke while avoiding your gaze, “I can’t control it.”

As soon as those words slipped out of his lips, he brandished his Kizāri, locking his mask of indifference back in place as he ordered, “Enough idling. Return to your position, Azārāhi.”

You broke your promise to never feel sorry for the Sōrsānt before, yet there was your unwise heart, foolishly mourning over the meaning behind his words.

•❃•

This is a terrible idea, the small voice inside your head repeated as you strode past humble shops and zealous vendors. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.

Yet, as terrible as you acknowledged it was, you couldn’t help it. Every morning you spent training with the Sōrsānt swelled your oh-so-human sympathy. You didn’t understand Nilfyn magic, but that didn’t lessen the silent horror of the Ērmār’s cruelty.

Though, you still found Hyunjin to be an impossible oaf.

Pulling your hood lower over your face, you sidestepped a group of Nilfyn kids who played with the color of the dull pavement. Their little ears carried gemstones of a light violet hue—the common folk’s color.

“Come one, come all! Hurry and try the best Jade-Fire Cakes in the Kingdom!” a woman called out from her stall while setting down a fresh batch of the dessert, steaming and glistening with sugar. She grabbed a handful of crushed almonds, sprinkling them atop the golden cakes that earned their name from the Jade-Fire fruit filling in their molten centers.

You soldiered forward, maneuvering around strolling families and curious buyers. Your legs didn’t stop until you reached a crooked alleyway between abandoned fronts.

There was a faint light at the end of the night-cloaked alley, and you made your way toward it while gripping the long blade fixed at your hip. You preferred your Kizāri, but it was too conspicuous to carry around town and impractical in trivial street fights. A knife would do for a quick trip.

You came to stand before a featureless oak door, illuminated by a lone lantern that hung above it. No sign carried a memorable name in winding calligraphy, no windows invited you in with lavish displays. This was a shop only meant for those who sought it.

You pushed the door open. Its resonant creak heightened your guard as you walked in.

Orange light washed over the cramped space. Shelves upon shelves were stacked with all the oddities you could envision, frightening figurines and dainty trinkets, rare herbs and mythical gemstones, bizarre contraptions and cursed jewelry. You even spotted a Kizāri that looked like it was forged from the starry night sky itself. Twisting purple, blue, and black crystals made its body, dotted with swimming pearls that seemed to shift every time you blinked.

A portly man stepped out from behind a moss-green curtain at the back of the shop. He was dressed in a smart orange suit, his grayed hair swept back to expose proudly bare ears. His thin mustache twitched as he spoke. “Good evening. Has the weather been kind to you today?”

“Generous. It didn’t rain boars on our house.”

Your ridiculous response was a whispered code that the humans of the capital used to identify one another in hiding. Each town had a slightly different variation of it. It hailed teeth on the stable. It shone dragon fire on our crops.

In this shop, it was code for something more.

The shopkeeper gave you a slight nod, your message received, before disappearing behind the curtain. When he appeared again, he was carrying a large wooden chest that he then set on the narrow counter with a heavy thud. A key blinked out of his sleeve. The movement was so momentary you could’ve mistaken it for a trick of light, but the sure click of the lock assured you otherwise.

He turned the chest around and lifted its lid open before he stepped away to give you a semblance of privacy. It was an illusion, for you knew that he was watching your every move with the sheer attentiveness of a hawk.

He would be a fool not to. That unremarkable wooden chest was full of stolen Nilfyn artifacts.

Your eyes raked over a kaleidoscope of glowing Channeling Cores. Smooth-cut, mellow turquoise ear cuffs and bulbous studs of a garish orange. Elegant swirls of a bewitching purple and crescent shaped gems mottled with gray. Most of them were soft violet and inky black gems that had once belonged to common Nilfyn or unfortunate soldiers. You spotted a handful of jagged, purplish-red gemstones that eerily reminded you of those that encrusted Hyunjin’s ears. There were some gold-plated pendants and rusted brooches as well—what the Nilfyn used before opting for ear piercings.

But you weren’t looking to buy misplaced Channeling Cores, and your eyes settled on a stash of leather-bound books tied with pale twine. You reached into the heart of the chest and grabbed the knot that secured the books, pulling them out and onto the counter carefully. Another bundle of books lay underneath them, and you decided to keep it inside the chest until you finished checking the first stack.

The Nilfyn took pride in their magic. They boasted by flaunting their gem-covered ears and displaying their powers at any given opportunity. But most importantly, they wrote about their magic, detailing every aspect of it to relay the information to future generations. Those books were distributed amongst aristocratic households to be preserved. Or to be stolen like the ones you had in your hands.

You knew that their covers were modified to appear unimportant and identical, but under the dark leather were pages upon pages of invaluable knowledge pertaining to different disciplines of magic. That was what you sought of this shop.

Tugging the loose ends of the bowknot at the top, you freed the first book and lifted the bottom-right edge of the cover. A hastily drawn sun symbol peeked back at you and you shut the book, picking another one and repeating the process.

A ripple of waves. You reached for the third book and found a snarling wolf.

You drowned out your disappointment. There were still many books left.

In the fourth, you found a whirling wind. An empty flask was in the next book. Dejection was beginning to trickle into your veins as you deftly turned edges.

An unblinking eye.

A lone flame.

You hid your frustration and sudden dread as you reached for the other stack. What if someone had already bought the book?

You flipped the first edge.

A blotched mountain.

The shopkeeper’s sly attention grew heavier on your shoulders. You needed to find the book fast before you raised his suspicions beyond bribery.

The unmarked leather of the covers seemed to mock you as your fingers brushed over the next book. You turned its edge, ready to be let down and move on when you saw it.

A rose in full bloom.

A wave of giddy triumph washed over you, but you made sure to keep your tone steady as you spoke to the shopkeeper. “How much for this one?”

A calloused hand rose to stroke his chin as his brows furrowed, seemingly deep in consideration. A long moment later, he declared gruffly, “Six Greda.”

You grimaced internally. That was three months’ worth of your allowance, but you couldn’t risk rejecting the offer and trying to find the same book somewhere else.

Begrudgingly, you pulled out your pouch, counting six silver coins which the shopkeeper whisked away greedily once you placed them on the table. He stuffed the coins into his copper-colored suit then fixed his lapels with an air of confidence, eyes shining dangerously. “Good making business with you.”

But you weren’t finished yet.

You fished out another six coins, ignoring the immediate stab of regret in your chest. They clinked enticingly as you pressed them on the polished counter. For his silence.

“You never did business with me,” you told him, your underlying warning clear despite your calm tone. His eyes widened before he nodded once, and you watched as half a year’s worth of money vanished into his jacket.

It’s fine, you tried to convince yourself, hiding the leather-bound book under your cloak. You never buy anything anyway.

You left the uncanny shop behind, striding through the ominous alleyway and plunging into the bustling night market quickly.

If you dared to look back, you would find the flickering light of the lone lantern, taunting, leering, reminding you of how terrible of an idea that was.

But you never looked back.

•❃•

You squinted at the blazing orb of fire centering the sky like a throne, crowned by wisps of feathery cloud.

It was noon, signaling that your training time with Hyunjin was over for the day. You hauled your Kizāri up, securing it in its sheath before dusting sand off your sleeves. It was a futile effort, for the chalky grains latched onto the fabric, nevertheless.

From the corner of your vision, you saw the shape of the pouch you brought with you earlier slumped against the wall. Dull, but its contents lit your heart with anxiousness. Your terrible idea was still half-executed.

Hyunjin had drifted toward the rack of Azāri equipment, unfastening the leather braces wrapped around his wrists, and you grasped the opportunity with feigned courage. All you had to do was give him the book and leave his training court.

The rest would be up to fate.

You maintained an easy gait as you walked up to the handspun pouch, containing your growing dread. You crouched to unravel the string that pinched the pouch shut, reaching in and meeting the rough skin of the leather-bound book. It felt pounds heavier than it actually was when you pulled it out.

You drew in a slow breath, closing your eyes to collect your thoughts. Why were you even following along with this silly idea? For all you could predict, the Sōrsānt would report you to the Ērmār and it would be your fault entirely.

Truthfully, you were annoyed. You didn’t want to sympathize with Hyunjin. Someone like him didn’t deserve an ounce of your pity.

But perhaps this was what it meant to be human, weak and turbulent. Ever since you saw the humiliation in his eyes on that unfortunate morning with his mother, you couldn’t discipline your heart back in place. Back to apathy and passiveness.

You thought that maybe this would quell the strange sorrow you felt for him. It was dangerous to delve deeper and let such emotions fester. The sooner you rid of them, the better.

With one last exhale, you gathered your bravado and marched up to where Hyunjin busied himself, clutching the book so tightly as if it were anchoring you to the ground.

His head turned in your direction when he heard you approach, brows twisted in a subtle intrigue that turned into fully-fledged confusion when you shoved the book into his arms. You stumbled over your words, “Take this.”

There. Done.

“What’s this?” Hyunjin arched a brow, regarding you as one would regard a pup behaving oddly. His voice came breathy with the exertion of training.

You only shrugged in response and took your leave before he could press further, nodding lightly. “Good day, Sōrsānt.”

It was fate’s turn to mess with your terrible idea.

•❃•

Hyunjin lay sleepless in his bed.

His limbs were weary from hours of unforgiving Azāri practice, begging him to shut his eyes and rest, but those pleas went unheard by his mind. Void of thought, yet utterly restless.

It was another typical night for the Sōrsānt.

The world slept around him. Not a squawking bird outside interrupted the palace’s numbing quiet. Hyunjin turned to his side with a sigh, tired of hearing his lonely heartbeat in the silence. He blinked in the dark, gaze landing on a book washed over by shy moonlight.

There, on his empty desk, sat the item you hurriedly shoved into his hands once your training finished. He should’ve ignored you and left it at the court. He should’ve thrown the book aside and reported you to the Ērmār.

Instead, he carried it with him and tossed the book onto his desk when he entered his room. Going about the rest of his monotonous day, he forgot about your sudden gift.

Only now did he remember it.

With nothing to do except toss and turn, Hyunjin’s curiosity got the better of him and he found himself slipping out from under the bulky covers toward the desk.

The book was heavier than he recalled, its leather unblemished and in perfect condition. No imprint hinted at its contents, and perhaps it was his exhaustion or boredom, but Hyunjin thought nothing of it when he flipped the thick cover.

A blank page stared back at him.

Curious, he turned the page. The velvety parchment whispered against his fingers. You wouldn’t give him an empty book, would you?

Ink lined the following page, the careful script too small for him to discern from afar, save for the few words brushed with gold at the top.

The Art of Flowering: Cultivating and Practicing Flowering Magic.

Hyunjin dropped the book with a shrill gasp, clamping his burning hands over his mouth a moment too late as his gaze flickered across the room in horror. Was this an ill joke of some sort?

The walls seemed to bristle around him, grey and looming and suddenly too close. His lungs refused to relax, holding in air as though the faintest sound from him would alert the entirety of the palace. Not a sigh of breath. Not a murmur of silk.

The petrifying silence of the palace continued, unperturbed and unaware of the intense clamor that erupted in Hyunjin’s mind. A hundred invisible eyes were set on him, prickling, making him want to crawl out of his skin and hide from no one.

He was sure that if he left the book on his desk a second longer, his mother would barge in and unleash her unfading scorn on him.

With trembling hands, Hyunjin reached for the book again, shutting it and tucking it under his arm with frantic haste. He refused to ponder upon its contents any further. He had to hide it before those simple words festered into a beast in his thoughts, hunting him down, ravaging his sanity until it unraveled.

He stumbled toward his bed, throwing the heavy blanket over and thrusting the book under the dense mattress. He pushed it as far as his arm could go, uncaring for the weight crushing his bones. He needed that book forgotten until he figured out a way to rid of it completely.

His shoulder was close to popping when he pulled his arm out recklessly, but his consciousness was too muddled to notice. He left the book pressed somewhere under the enormous mattress, and only then did he dare to exhale, albeit weakly.

Fatigue wracked his body, fiercer and more intense than it was some minutes ago. He scrambled onto his bed, lying limply as his internal clamor continued.

Was this your way of taunting him? Reminding him of his fatal, irredeemable flaw?

You were mad. You had to be. Or maybe you had a death wish, Hyunjin didn’t want to know which of the two it was. You were treading perilous land, and he wanted nothing to do with your foolish adventures.

Even though the broken desire in him whispered otherwise.

•❃•

It seemed that fate took many twisted liberties with your terrible plan.

“Where did you get that book?” Hyunjin’s voice boomed like thunder in the space of the training court. He had his Kizāri drawn, and he stood in the center of the sand square as though ready to plunge into a fight. A real fight.

The air around him seemed to buzz and fizz, seething with an anger you should’ve expected. He wouldn’t accept a so-called gift from a human, especially not one pertaining to his hidden magic. You had to choose your next words carefully.

Ah, but if he had expected you to give away your secrets, he was dreadfully wrong.

“Does it matter?” you shrugged as you stepped closer, fingers flexing with the crazed urge to grab your Kizāri and cross it with his. A lazy smirk drew itself on your lips. “If you don’t want the book, you can give it back.”

The Sōrsānt glowered. Your answer wasn’t the one he was seeking, but you weren’t trying to please him anyway. Tension twisted around the two of you, deafening in its silence. The yawning moments before the tempest.

You set foot in the square of pale sand, basking in the young morning sun as you dared Hyunjin’s gaze with yours. If he wanted a fight, then you would gladly appease that wish. “It was quite costly, after all.”

Snap! went the thin cord of tension, and Hyunjin’s Kizāri glinted in the light as he raised it in a deadly arc. The air screamed. The first wind in the storm.

Your Kizāri was drawn in a flash, meeting his with a force that rattled your bones. Blood roared in your ears, fueled after days of dull practice.

You leaped away, swiveling alongside your Kizāri as you brought it down. Sand rose upon impact, a benevolent wave of pearly dust.

Hyunjin ran through it, swinging his weapon at you with familiar precision. Your Kizāris waltzed in the air, a blur of silver and black, clashing and separating and spinning to the macabre rhythm of the spar.

Oh, how you craved the thrill of a proper fight.

Hyunjin’s Kizāri hooked around yours, and he pushed it against you, snarling, “Are you trying to get us killed?”

You propelled your weapon forward, freeing it from his trap and swinging it at his legs unsparingly. “Us?”

A laugh threatened to bubble up your chest, roused by the adrenaline pumping in your veins. “Don’t assume that I did this for you, Sōrsānt. I gave you the book for the peace of my own mind.”

Iron screeched against iron. Hyunjin was close enough that you saw shock flicker over his features before it melted into something darker. His Kizāri was in the air again. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No, you don’t,” you agreed, breathless as you evaded his blow and redirected your weapon. “What is it that you always say about us humans?”

You weren’t waiting for an answer. “We are weak. Subject to the volatile tides of the heart.”

Your Kizāris interlocked again, and with a pull from Hyunjin and a pivot from you, the spar came to a stop. Your Kizāri clattered against the floor outside the square. Hyunjin’s was impaled in the sand some feet away. The two of you were left standing there, face to face, chests heaving and gazes burning.

Neither of you moved, and it felt as though the world came to a halt alongside that fight.

Hyunjin held your stare, and you held his. In a breath that seemed to encompass the two of you, you were almost equals in an impossible timeline. The ravenous fire that crackled in your souls was one and the same, stoked by repressed fear and the overwhelming desire to survive in a world that only valued material power. The very differences that separated him from you made you alike.

Yet, you refused to acknowledge that harrowing revelation. Hyunjin was nothing like you, and he would never be.

“Do with the book what you will,” you spoke through gritted teeth, breaking the trance you were captured in. “This is not a favor.”

After a moment that felt like an eternity, you turned away, knowing that the both of you reached a wordless, mutual understanding. You picked your Kizāri off the dark marble, tossing it over in your grip once, twice, before assuming your regular place at the square of sand.

You still had a tedious morning of training to go through now that your fit of violence had been quelled.

•❃•

The night was silent again.

Hyunjin stood before the small flames of the stone burner in his room. The leather-bound book was tightly clutched in his hands as he watched the blazes rise, swaying like dancers in a joyous ball. Their flickering light created eerie shadows that cackled against the bleakness of walls, taunting.

You told him to do with the book what he willed, and he was doing the best thing he could think of. Burn it. Lose it. Forget it.

It was the only way to kill the voices that reemerged after years of lurking mutely in his head. Voices which murmured and spoke and screamed at him to indulge in his magic. To disobey his mother. Unknowingly, you had incited them by giving him the book.

He had to destroy it before it destroyed him.

Hyunjin held the book over the fire, readying to drop it in as his hand shook unreasonably. He had burnt many things before, many magical blunders in the form of innocent flowers. This was no different. It shouldn’t have been.

Yet, the voices in his head grew increasingly shrill when a rogue flame licked the edge of the book, darkening the leather slightly. All he had to do was let go, but his fingers were stiff.

Hyunjin wanted to fight them, peel them off one by one until the book dropped, but he couldn’t. The heat on his skin was merciless, unbearable. Soon enough, gruesome blisters would mar the smooth surface.

He pulled his hand away with a hiss.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t burn the book.

Like an ever-resonating bell, the voices in his head rejoiced, pounding against the desolate chamber of his thoughts. This was the closest he had ever been to his magic, and he had overestimated his strength to turn his back on it.

Eying the burnt corner of the book, Hyunjin tried to convince himself, if not tonight, then tomorrow.

Maybe then, the voices would quieten.

•❃•

Hyunjin told himself the same lie every following night after he pulled the book away from the burner in a moment of panic.

For three nights, his grip would turn into rigid wood. For three nights, he would be paralyzed before the eager flames. For three nights, the blistering air of the fire would torture his hand until he gave up.

He couldn’t burn the book, that was what the voices told him, but he refused to succumb to them.

The skin on the back of his hand was reddened and pulsing with a pain so great as though lit by an invisible fire. He knew he couldn’t keep at his lousy attempts without gravely harming himself. If burning the book wasn’t a viable option, then he had to figure out another method of destroying it. Fast. 

His fingers touched his earrings subconsciously before he realized what he was doing and pulled his hand away. It was a bad habit that the Ērmār hated. 

Shredding it? Hyunjin frowned with the thought. It would be pointless. He would still need to burn the remains.

His fingers brushed over the fine leather of the cover, having grown familiar with the rough texture of its minuscule patterns. The top of the book had browned due to being exposed to fire, but it was still in a useable condition.

Would it be so bad?

Yes! he wanted to yell back at the stupid desire, but every time he tried to, he heard his mother’s voice instead of his.

Would it be so bad? the voices repeated, for the question was meant for him, not the Ērmār. Would it?

Hyunjin found himself voiceless.

He knew the answer. Why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he think it without imagining his mother?

Frustrated, he flung the book at the wall as a pathetic scream threatened to rip its way out of his mouth. The book thudded against the floor somewhere in his room, and his head fell into his hands heavily. Why was it so difficult?

Hyunjin wanted to rip his hair out. This was your doing. If you hadn’t given him that damned book, then he wouldn’t be entertaining the moon with his ridiculous dilemma. He wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of catastrophe with his wandering thoughts.

Perhaps, he should order you to burn the book instead. Like a sun peeking through stormy clouds, his mental chaos cleared up at the idea. He might’ve been unable to destroy the book, but you would have no reason to hold back.

Dragging his hand down his face, Hyunjin sighed. The solution made perfect sense to him. And you would keep your silence about his order if you wanted to keep your life.

Soon enough, he would forget that such a book ever existed.

Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, Hyunjin stood, and his gaze darted across the expanse of the room to find the book lying facedown beside his desk. He crouched to pick it up, accidentally catching sight of the colorful page it had fallen open to. Quickly looking away, he slammed the book shut before he thought more of it.

Too late.

Would it be so bad? he heard that whisper again, like a devil speaking forbidden desires into his ears. You’re returning the book tomorrow. A quick look would do no harm…

Hyunjin knew better. Just as he knew that he should’ve killed you the moment you stepped into his training court.

He knew better, yet just like your first encounter, he was too weak to act on that knowledge.

He would always be.

The book met the smooth surface of Hyunjin’s desk with a slap. His palm settled atop it. Hesitant. Stubborn.

Just a harmless page…

His hand went to the side of the book, brushing the edge of the leather. Once he returned the book to you, he wouldn’t be able to ask for it again. And all he’d read of it was the mere title, which sent a flurry of mismatched feelings to his heart.

It wasn’t curiosity that clouded his judgement, but a blinding, smoldering want that was as old as he was. Being barred from his magic for so long, being ridiculed and insulted for his magic ever since it emerged, this book was something a younger Hyunjin could only dream about having.

Even though he had spent years silencing those intrusive voices, he recalled his childish jealousy when his friends began showing their various Tilts. The memories he had of his childhood were a dismal canvas of depthless sorrow, helplessness, and fear, but he kept them alive as a reminder of his mother’s wrongs toward him.

If he were to read a page from the book, then it was for the little boy whose spirit was stolen years ago. A frightened Hyunjin with a bleeding shoulder, too young to understand the dark disappointment that filled his mother’s eyes and made her a stranger before him.

He took in a shaky breath and flicked the book open.

The page was just as he remembered, crammed with words and headed by that gold-brushed title.

The Art of Flowering: Cultivating and Practicing Flowering Magic.

The voices spurred him on. Rather than panic, a strange relief paired with excitement washed over him. His dread was still present, and so was the urge to stuff the book back under the mattress, but he dared himself to read a few lines, squinting in the dark.

Foremost, let it be known that the blessing of a Flowering Tilt is a tremendous gift, and an honor to those it is bestowed upon. Flowering is the fourth of the ten Hybrid Types to be discovered, and as the name indicates, wielders of this magic can create and control flowers.

It was easy to read those words on a parchment that was going to be burnt in mere hours. They were empty like a drunkard’s promises. Perhaps that was why Hyunjin let himself be immersed in the book further than he intended.

The Flowering Tilt is a Hybrid Type discovered nearly two hundred years ago. Studies have shown that centuries of marriages between Hydro and Terrestrial Tilts resulted in the formation of this new magic.

He turned the page.

Chapter One: Cultivation. 

Cultivating Flowering Magic is similar to cultivating other magics. Without adequate training, spurts of magic may occur at random or upon emotional uproar. Thus, young Claimed Nilfyn are encouraged to begin training immediately, as these uncontrolled spurts increase with age.

To better understand magic, let us envision a water reserve tank in an odd village. At the beginning of every week, the villagers pour buckets of water into the tank, but none of the villagers use the water throughout the week. Soon, the tank begins to overflow as more water is added but left unconsumed. Such is magic. It is an ever-growing source that overflows when left unused.

To cultivate, the wielder must begin by finding their Heart of Magic. This skill may be learned easier during childhood, as the Heart is bare and unbarred by the tribulations of life, but it is not unfeasible amongst adult Nilfyn.

There are no teachings regarding the intricacies of finding one’s Heart of Magic. It is a slow process that requires patience and strong will. However, aspiring wielders are advised to practice in tranquil spaces that inspire a meditative state.

Once reaching the Heart of Magic, one must set their palm against an empty surface and focus on drawing magic toward the tips of their fingers to manifest an object of their Tilt. This is to familiarize the wielder with the process of directing magic in a useful manner. Flowering Tilts may use the following while training to quicken results: a flower posy, a cut of wood, a handful of soil, or any natural piece of the earth.

Hyunjin tried to imagine that Heart of Magic. He closed his eyes and searched for something magical, something bright, something beautiful. He wanted to remember the way his magic felt when it surged through his body to manifest in a single blossom in the sand.

There was nothing.

He was hollow, his soul long crushed, his heart long dead. The polished surface of his desk felt cold against his fingertips, unkind proof that whatever the Heart of Magic was, it wasn’t something he had. At least, not anymore.

The foolish hope in him withered, and he closed the book with a scowl. Empty words for an empty boy.

But when Hyunjin left his room the following morning, he didn’t take the leather-bound book with him.

•❃•

The prying moon was a witness to the many lies Hyunjin told himself as he flipped through the pages of the book night after night.

Deep in a cranny of his heart, he knew that he couldn’t return it much like how he couldn’t burn it. But he thought that if he said it enough times, he would convince himself otherwise. As he poured stolen sand on his desk and closed his eyes, trying to revive his Heart of Magic, he repeated that crooked lie. Just one more day, one more page…

But a day wasn’t enough to stir his magic, nor were two. The voices—no, he wanted more. For all his heartbreak and misery, he deserved more than a few measly attempts at his magic.

A chilling thought ran through his mind. Why should he be obeying a mother that cared little for him, anyway?

The fifth night was similar to the rest. Hyunjin sat still at his desk, right hand settled on a small bed of sand as the world fell silent around him. He searched the remnants of his soul, scouring for the faintest trace of magic with timid hope. He couldn’t permit himself more than that inkling of confidence, for he had failed countless times before.

Only on this night, he finally found something.

Folded away. Forgotten.

A flicker of light.

A whisper of power.

A pulse of another life.

He clawed at it, overwhelmed by sudden desperation. There it was. There was his Heart of Magic. Bleeding and dim, but there.

He caught a wisp of the fleeting light and pulled. At once, he saw color in otherworldly hues, erupting around him and through him, shaking his core like a tremor from the heavens above. That soothing cold washed over him again, a glorious stampede, and he dared to loosen a trapped breath.

The magic slipped out of his grasp.

No, no, no, no! Hyunjin scrambled back, grabbing at anything he could and dragging it with all the force he was able to muster. His focus had faltered for the barest moment, and that made him lose sight of his Heart of Magic. He couldn’t let that happen again. Not after all the work he had done.

A chill spread to his fingers as he pulled the magic forward and outward. It was taxing, and he felt his heart beat as though it were in the heat of a duel.

Then, a sensation akin to the puncture of a thousand needles swarmed his body. Something in him locked into place with a resonant toll, and he opened his eyes with a gasp.

There, on the chalky mound of sand, was a single smiling blossom. Dull white petals fanned around its yellow center, and it embraced itself with two grey leaves.

Hyunjin’s breath stilled, defying the rampant palpitations in his chest.

He had done it.

Not through an emotional outburst. Not by mistake.

He created a flower in coarse, lifeless sand on his own.

His magic, finally.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Mini Glossary:

Azārāhi: a skilled practitioner of Azāri.

Azāri: a fighting art developed by the magical Nilfyn.

Ērmār: high master (feminine).

Ērmārvi: minor high master (feminine).

Ērsānt: lower master (feminine).

Ērsānvi: minor lower master (feminine).

Kizāri: the long-handled weapon with an trident-like head used in Azāri.

Sōrmār: high master (masculine).

Sōrmārvi: minor high master (masculine).

Sōrsānt: lower master (masculine).

Sōrsānvi: minor lower master (masculine).

Hey there! Thank you for reading this far! This fic is very special to me and it would mean a lot if you could give it a reblog and tell me your thoughts. Part two will be posted in September, so keep an eye out for it! Thank you once more for reading, and I hope you have a lovely day! ♡

[universal-genious]

A Comprehensive Guide To My Rat Hierarchy

Greetings and salutations!

Strap in and get comfy. You're all about to receive a detailed, informative, and fascinating lecture on the details of my rat creations. Let's begin.

My rats are organized in a hierarchy, based (loosely) off of a system of monarchy. The progression goes as follows:

The Commonality

The Gentry

The Cavaliers

The Vassals and

The Knave.

They are not organized by importance, but rather by size, ability, and threat level.

Below is a diagram illustrating examples of each tier of the Hierarchy (save for the Knave, but we'll get to him later):

Now, let's take a closer look, shall we?

First, of course, shall be:

The Commonality

These little darlings are primarily lab assistants, but they're also built for surveillance and the relaying of messages.

Their mechanical eyes are capable of capturing photographs and video footage, and then projecting the images holographically - perfect for delivering asynchronous villainous monologues!

The Commonality are also very fast and agile, able to climb up and burrow through just about any material, from metal to solid rock. They can be quite the stealthy little fellows!

Next, let's take a look at:

The Gentry

The Gentry are built for low-risk combat, but when deployed in packs, they can pack quite a wallop! Their teeth and claws can deliver a considerable amount of damage on their own, but what really sets the Gentry apart is their ability to wield electricity.

The Gentry have artificial nervous systems consisting of live wiring, which carries an electrical current through their bodies - note the electrodes in the ears and tail. However, what you don't see upon first glance is the electrical generator hidden within the jaws of the Gentry. Upon opening its mouth, a Gentry can release a powerful surge of lightning, much like the breath weapon of a dragon!

And aren't they just adorable?!

Onwards and upwards, we have:

The Cavaliers

These beautiful specimens are especially skilled at hunting and tracking, built with heightened senses of sight, smell, and hearing, as well as the ability to see in infrared waves. In other words, there's no use hiding.

The Cavaliers are also built for speed - those long, slender limbs allow them to gallop at speeds matching those of Acinonyx jubatus! What's more, they're the perfect size to be mounted, making them excellent for a quick and theatrical getaway.

Now, here's something especially interesting. The Cavaliers are always deployed in pairs. Specific pairs. Each Cavalier has a companion, with which they are psychically linked. They can sense each other's every move and thought - the ultimate hunting partners! Additionally, if one Cavalier in a pair is incapacitated or seriously injured in combat, the other receives a surge of power as a defense mechanism.

Moving right along, we reach:

The Vassals

Positively petrifying, aren't they?!

These magnificent beasts are easily my most formidable creations yet. If their cleaver-like tails don't get you, their claws and teeth certainly will!

When developing the Vassals, I began using a mutation serum of my own concoction, which came with a few unexpected (but welcome!) side effects. Firstly, due to the monstrous origin of several of the serum's ingredients, the Vassals are the only tier of the hierarchy that require sustenance. And let me tell you, they have got some impressive appetites! A Vassal is capable of digesting just about anything, organic and inorganic - but they especially like any variety of fresh meat. This has been quite the asset, actually - if I need someone to disappear, the Vassals are on the job!

Secondly, you may notice the viscous, black fluid weeping from their faces. This is entirely normal, I assure you - just another aspect of the serum's mutation. The Vassals are constantly exuding a highly acidic and toxic excretion - don't worry, it doesn't bother them in the slightest. You, however...let's just say you don't want to be anywhere near the stuff.

Finally, the mutation serum also allows the Vassals to heal from injuries at a remarkably accelerated rate, making them even harder to take down! This also allows a Vassal to open its jaws to an unnaturally wide extent, hence the scar tissue around the mouth. I rather like the look of it - look at those friendly smiles!

Last, but certainly not least, we move on to:

The Knave

Knavey here is my primary method of transportation. He's just a tad larger a school bus, making him ideal for transporting myself and an assortment of the rats for missions of all sorts!

Knavey's been fitted with claw-like appendages on both of his tails, as well as on the end of his "tongue", for lack of a better term. Said "tongue" is entirely prehensile, and can extend to nearly three-quarters of Knavey's body length. As such, Knavey is excellent for retrieving heavy cargo, and for capturing live cargo!

And, with that, my hierarchy draws to a close.

Thanks ever so much for reading - I do hope you all found this informative! I certainly had fun writing it.

Ta-ta for now!

~ Niles Genious Tolliver 🐁⚡

[taoriyu]

Being in charge [Mizu x Reader]

=========== Pairing: Mizu x Reader Rating: T (I guess)

Short description: You are on watch tonight, and your military skills and commanding experience have proven invaluable. No harm was taken, but it seems a certain samurai has developed a taste for moments like these.

Additional warnings: - Things got a bit spicy this time but nothing mature. - An idea of archer reader isn't unique too, but a thought it would be a good match for a party of two melees and one useful handyman (kudos for Ringo)

Also: Mon - a round copper coins with a hole in the center, which were used for everyday transactions (according to ChatGPT).

Lleeet's go

===========

The night enveloped the surroundings in a cloak of brightness and freshness, the air imbued with the enchanting scent of blossoms and grass, mingling with the smoky essence of the fire. You established camp on the outskirts of the forest, sheltered beneath the towering canopy, away from the exposed and vulnerable thoroughfare that traversed the plain. Mizu, Ringo, and Taigen slumbered on their blankets around the crackling campfire, while owls hooted from the depths of the forest and leaves rustled noisily under the gentle caress of the wind, causing the treetops to sway in rhythm. The fire emitted soft, crackling sounds, punctuating the tranquil night of your watching.

Suddenly, a sharp snap shattered the serenity, followed by muted murmurs to your right. From the woods ahead, a hushed sound admonished silence. Metallic clicks echoed from the left, accompanied by the taut, high-pitched twang of a bowstring.

"Alarm! We're under attack!" Your shouts reverberated through the night, punctuated by the resounding clangs of a kitchen hatchet striking a metallic pot, your makeshift cooking vessel with Ringo.

"Ringo, raise your shield! There's an archer to your flank!" With agile reflexes, you leaped aside, narrowly avoiding the trajectory of an arrow.

"Mizu, Taigen, two assailants on my left!" Drawing the string of your bow taut, you hissed through clenched teeth, relying solely on your acute hearing to guide your aim. In the darkness of the forest and the flickering glow of the campfire behind you, discerning silhouettes proved impossible.

Thud. Thud. The sickening sound of arrows finding their mark, followed by the anguished cry of a fallen foe.

Swords clashed and screams erupted to your left. Swiftly, you pivoted, shifting towards the source of the archer's assault. With a swift motion, the archer released another arrow, only to find it stuck in an old shield repurposed as a makeshift table — a handy thing you and Ringo had devised for your cooking endeavors, now proving invaluable in defense.

Inhale. Aim. Exhale slowly. As your heartbeat steadied, time seemed to dilate. The assailant moved. Thud. Thud. The last of them fell.

You released a pent-up breath, surveying the aftermath.

"Are you alright, Ringo?" A nod confirmed his well-being as he rose from his defensive stance behind the shield.

"Mizu, Taigen, are you unharmed?" Your voice echoed through the night, seeking assurance from your comrades.

"We're fine," Taigen grumbled, emerging from the shadows along with Mizu.

Taigen retired to his blanket, voicing discontent, while Ringo extracted an arrow from the shield with attachable forceps.

"Mizu, with me. We need to inspect the fallen. The rest of you, remain vigilant. There may be more." Your directive was met with a quizzical glance from Mizu, but she acquiesced, falling into step beside you.

Three of the bodies yielded almost nothing: five mon, a bundle of poor-quality arrows, and no clues about the origin of the bandits. As you approached the last body, hidden in the shadows, Mizu spoke up.

"So, you're taking control tonight," she remarked quietly, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips, her eyes ignited with a certain spark.

"Perhaps I am," you responded, surprised by your own audacity, which failed to conceal the crimson hue coloring your ears.

Mizu's smile widened as she closed the distance between you, her stature seeming even taller in that moment.

"Command me then," Mizu murmured softly, trailing her knuckles across your cheek. Redness spread across your face, and your mouth fell open. Staring into her crystal blue eyes, dozens of thoughts raced through your mind, adrenaline amplifying every heartbeat.

Wait, what? She's serious? I thought she was mocking me. It's impossible, right? Gods, what do I do? Being in charge in battle is one thing. Commanding her right now is another. Maybe I should run? Coward. Argh!

Feeling as if you were standing on a cliff, you swallowed dryly and shifted your gaze to Mizu's lips. A faint pink blush colored her cheekbones too. To hell with it, you thought, and made a leap of faith.

"Kiss me then," you said, smiling nervously.

"I obey," Mizu whispered, propping up your chin and moving closer. Her tongue brushed against your bottom lip, making you gasp and hold your breath. She parted your lips and deepened the kiss. You felt like you were falling, your face hot and your fingers cold. A pulling sensation started to form inside your belly as the kiss grew more intense. Mizu let out a low, muted moan, sucking your bottom lip before parting from you. Both of you panted heavily, staring at each other with longing, unfocused gazes.

"Guys! Any discoveries?" Taigen's interruption shattered the moment.

Mizu’s eyes darted around, trying to focus. She gasped shortly, as if waking from a dream.

“Nothing interesting,” she shouted back to the camp.

She looked at you again, smiling cunningly. "I like when you're in charge," she said quietly, tapping the tip of your nose before heading back to the camp.

[gifmourningu]

Wonderful Precure! Watch Guide

A list of episodes that let you know which episodes are less interesting and skippable.

This season was pretty slow (takes like 30+ episodes to get to the plot).

Plot is bolded. Recommended filler (character development or background info-oriented) is italicized. Skippable episodes grouped in block quote.

1 — Cure Wonderful

2 — Cure Friendy

3 — Lore building

4 — Yuki & Mayu

5 — Friendly Tact

6 — Komugi & Iroha get into a fight 

7 — Friend Liberale 

8 — Mayu’s first day at school 

9 — Komugi’s first day at school 

10 — Yuki’s background 

11 — Cure Nyammy appears

12 — Cure Nyammy appears part 2

13 — Failing to identify Nyammy (watch if you like Mayu/Yuki)

14 — Mayu finds out about the Cures (only second half of the ep is relevant)

15 — Visit to Niko Garden (watch if you like Meymey) 16 — Crossover ep with Crayon Shin-chan  This somehow has lore about the mirror stone and Iroha’s parents also find out about Komugi’s human form, but I can’t really recommend watching a crossover...

17 — Nyammy identity reveal

18 — Identity reveal fallout

19 — Cure Lillian

20 — Amity Lumiere

21 — Yuki goes to school 

22 — Komugi tries an agility course

23 — Last Kirarin animal, some lore drop (Satoru x Iroha) Information is covered again in ep 29 if you want to skip.

24 — Mysterious egg appears  If you don’t feel like watching, it’s mentioned in the next eps

25 — Yuki accepts being a team (Mayu/Yuki focus)

26 — It’s too damn hot (comedic)

27 — Search for Tsuchinoko 28 — Trip to a farm

29 — Niko-sama

30 — Wonderful Castle

31 — Mayu makes up with a friend

32 — Trip to a zoo 33 — Iroha’s parents 34 — Yuki makes cat friends (you get to see Mayu’s dad, if that’s interesting to you)

35 — Satoru confesses to Iroha part 1

36 — Satoru confesses to Iroha part 2

37 — Satoiro date!

38 — Komugi’s past

39 — Gaou Arrives

40 — Turning into animals (watch if you want to see animal versions of the humans) 41 — Yuki play 42 — Animal town photos (Mayu dad feature again)

43 — Mayu knitting

44 — Final moments with your pets

45 — Goodbye Torame

46 — Christmas (Yuki focus)

47 — New Year’s (only second half of episode relevant; Yuki/Mayu focus)

48-50 — Finale 

[tacticalgrandma]

I got tagged to Rate My OC by @optiwashere - thank you! I'm tagged @afilmnoirdetective @tavsversion @thenugking @maud-lin @arach-tinilith @robinyourcreator and anyone else who wants to do this!

Dread

Compassion: 3/10 Just like, averaging it. Dread cares very deeply and feels very protective towards the few people she considers family or friends. She feels essentially nothing about anyone else. Post-Nautiloid she tries to fake it, since the rest of the party seems to be expecting it, but she’s relieved to finally let go of the front when she meets Minthara.

Bitterness: 7/10. She’s not self aware enough to acknowledge that it’s bitterness though, which leads to her projecting her issues onto Wyll and Lae’zel especially.

Happiness: 2/10. Very small pockets of happiness in an otherwise very numbed life. When she indulges the urge she experiences a manic joy, and she’s come to associate an overwhelming happiness with losing control.

Chivalry: 0/10. She was raised in a monastery where she was treated as special and separate. She never had to learn good manners and sees no reason to start now.

Pride: 9/10. She wants to kill a god, it’d be hard to rate her anything lower. I knocked a point off because she’s able to swallow her pride enough to ask for help a couple times in her life.

Honesty: 5/10. Dread is both very blunt and very unforthcoming. If she lies, it’s almost certainly by omission.

Bravery: 4/10. She’s confident and pushes herself, but doesn’t act rashly. Her greatest fear—losing herself to Bhaal—guides her entire life.

Recklessness: 0/10. She overthinks how to put her shoes on.

Ambition: 6/10. Dread has a pretty lofty to-do list—kill Bhaal, bring Orin back from the dead, develop a psionic monastic style. But ultimately all she really wants is her freedom, to see the people she loves safe, and to travel.

Loyalty: 10/10. It’s to like, four people, but she’s immensely protective of those four.

Love: 5/10. It’s kind of tough for me to measure this one? She’s fiercely attached to the people she loves but if you measured her relationships up against those of any normal person, they’d look real thin. Immediately post-game, she’s barely on speaking terms with any of the people she cares for most. But she does care for them, immensely. So maybe more accurate would be a 9/10 from Dread’s perspective, a 2/10 from anyone else’s.

Sense of Family: 10/10. Weird, sad, small, and traumatized kind of family, but family all the same. I came up with Dread’s concept because I wanted someone to be nice to Orin, and she’s stayed true to that.

Attractiveness: 5/10. Canonically, she looks unremarkable. Gameplay wise, it’s real hard to make someone not hot in bg3.

Agility: 10/10. Dread is a monk who can levitate.

Sex Drive: 0/10. Wretched little aroace creature.