#Dawn Frost

[brucespencer]

“Dawn Drift” © Bruce Spencer 2023

[m1smatched-starsigns]

25 + 34 + 43

in response to this post:

25. What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

For sure brainstorm and outlining!

34. How much of your personal life/experience do you include in your fics?

I try to pull from my personal life at least a little bit in all of my fics, because I think it makes the fic more relatable, more genuine, more interesting, whatever. Sometimes it's just to help convey emotion, sometimes it's from experience.

I've said this before but in Dawn Frost, (spoiler)'s death is directly inspired by an almost-boyfriend's death when I was in high school. If he hadn't of died, then neither would (spoiler). I wrote that death a year or two after my friend's, but it felt so fresh while I was writing it. I cried the entire time. It was very emotional for me, but I think in a therapeutic way. I'm glad I did it because I was scared to write it for a long time.

On a lighter note, one of the reasons that I love TIL and why I've come back to it so many times throughout the year is because of the family unit aspect. SkyClan is such a close-knit Clan because they're the only Clan around, and then the four littermates are so involved with each other's lives (and that's not always a good thing), and that dynamic is really easy for me to write because I come from a very large, very close family. Fun fact, I'm also the oldest sibling with three younger brothers, so I relate to Plumwillow a lot in that way, too!

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

MURDER. MYSERTY.

I have tried three times to write a good murder mystery but it's very challenging for me, made even more challenging by the fact that these are cats.

One day though, I'll get it write and I'll share it with you all!

[huariqueje]

Rising Sun, London Blackheath - Francis Edgar Dodd , 1942.

British , 1874-1949

Oil on canvas

[man-moth-hook-hand]

[ceaseless-rambler]

After a long, arduous journey to collect the supplies and hours of turmoil, I present to you! A cake!

[shaunakghosh]

A winter scene ❄️

[brownie-pics]

いつもの飛火野夜明け前、今日は4点盛り。辺りはまだ薄暗い時間･･

ここ最近は、投稿を少しでも多く見てもらいたくてインスタにも写真をアップしているのですが、こちらはPCからの投稿よりスマホからの方がやりやすく、しかし縦3：2の写真がそのままの比率では普通に掲載できないんで一旦画像をスマホへ転送、adobeのアプリでインスタのフォーマットに合わせたフレームに加工して保存、そしてやっと投稿･･という手数を踏んでいるのですが、3日前ほどから投稿画像のスマホ保存先にしているSDカード（外部ストレージ）の画像を認識しない現象が起きています。android機の一部で見られる現象らしいのですが、見事に僕のも対象に😖

･･何かと色々手間がかかります。

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eight

☁︎ Eris x Healer OC

☁︎ Notes: okay. This is kind of a big one 👀 pls let me know what you think, if the descriptions make sense, etc. I'm really hoping the concept for Aya's powers is actually interesting and not dumb but here we go

I've gotten a lot of notes from new readers lately and I wanna say thanks so much for the love and comments!! 💛💛

☁︎ Warnings: battle/war, injuries, blood, death, grief (it's not that graphic I just wanna make sure I get all the tags needed)

☁︎ Word Count: 3.5k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ Latest Artwork

☁︎ Taglist (let me know if you want on or off) : @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor @secret-third-thing @bookwormysblog @mal-adaptive-dreams @daycourtofficial

The secret behind Aya’s power was the extra eye in her mind. Whether they were simply visions or she had some connection to another place, she did not know. But either way, she was born seeing things that no one else could.

Aya had discovered another world, visible only with closed eyes or when she let her vision go hazy. It was a place where wards and spells were visible things, overlayed on top of reality. She could see the building blocks of the universe, the materials that made up the world. And she could reach out and touch them. They were hers to fix and break and manipulate how she pleased.

After years of observing people and the things that they were made of, she came to understand that they could be sorted into three categories. Sewn things, woven things, and things to be fired in a kiln. The first three people Aya had known were one of each. The first memories to exist in her mind were ingrained with their imagery. Her mother, a tapestry. Her aunt, a quilt. And Thesan, a vase.

It took nearly a decade of life for Aya to understand that no one else saw things the way she did. No one else had another realm materialize when they closed their eyes. No one else healed by patching those quilts, stitching down loose threads, or filling cracks in pottery with veins of shimmering gold.

There were many, many times when she wished that she had never spoken about it to anyone. She could have learned sooner to close her eyes and not let anyone see the golden light that shone when she used her power. She could have taken less time to understand that she was different. Or maybe she could have been born knowing that she was not the same as everyone around her.

But it was too late for any of that. Her life had already been molded by her differences.

In truth, using her power was easy. So easy that it scared her. Sometimes an extensive injury or a complicated spell would draw a sweat from her brow, but even then she could go for days if she wanted to. The store of energy within her seemed endless. She had never experienced burnout, or ever been close.

There were so many terrifying truths lying underneath the lid she kept on herself. Her morbid curiosity, the things she could do, how much she was capable of. She never dug too deep, never once in her life testing the limits or possibilities. She could not bring herself to. She would not let herself become a thing that destroyed.

The fear that others carried around her was tangible. Whispers of witchcraft followed her everywhere - apparently her mother hailing from the continent was suspicious, with less known about the origins of their magic. And Aya's own tapestry was stained with the echoes of her mother calling her a liar, holding deep grudges over the discrimination that Aya had brought upon her family. There was no shortage of things that had made this existence difficult.

But on days like this, no matter how much she hated it, Aya thrived.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The battle had seemed so endless. The shouting, screaming, and clashing of weapons were a constant song, and Aya did her best to tune it out as she ran from bed to bed, cleaning, bandaging, and healing wounds. Her ears rang, desperate for a moment not filled with terrible noise. Her muscles ached, begging for her to take a break. But there were always more buckets to haul, more soldiers to drag to safety, more wounded to heal. She ignored every protest of her tired mind and aching body as she splashed through the mud, dodging arrows and swords, zeroed in on whoever needed helping.

She also ignored the magic within her that sang, thrilled to be used and stretched and tested. It pushed her body to keep going long after she had reached her physical limits, always restless and desperate to be let loose. But she would only ever release as much power as she needed to do her job well. Never any more.

Even still, Aya was always the last standing, the glow of her healing still going steady when all the others had used their last sparks. In class, this earned her jealous looks and accusations of cheating or witchcraft. But of course today, there was nothing but murmured thanks and praise. Aya ignored those, too.

At last, dusk fell like a funeral shroud, covering the silhouettes of broken bodies littering the battlefield. All of the gore blissfully hidden in the darkness. The sky could not, however, hide the sound of suffering and grieving of those who still lived, reaching toward the heavens in desperate tones.

Now, it was an effort to keep her head upright as she sat beside the High Lord of Night, her hand hovering over the gash in his arm. Rhysand, even with his weary eyes and the grime caked into the lines of his skin, watched her heal with a keen interest. If it was a different time, and her heart felt a little lighter, Aya may have asked him about it. Maybe he knew something that she didn’t. But right now it was taking too much focus just to stay awake.

When she closed her eyes Aya was stitching silver stars into a quilt, each block made from a different shade of night. Slightly darker shapes made up the subtle outline of a city, constellations hiding in same-colored thread here and there. It was lovely work, the stars twinkling and shimmering, the night sky velvety soft beneath her fingertips. It did not take long for his arm to be healed. With eyes glittering like the thread she had just held between her fingers, Rhysand thanked her and swaggered off to find his mate.

Truthfully, Aya liked him. Often, she came away from a healing session feeling as though she had read the person's soul front to back like a book. And in Rhysand, she liked what she learned. He was deeply kind, very clever, and generous. She knew without a doubt that his story of Under the Mountain was true. She could see the scars within him, like rips and tears in the quilt that he had tried to fix himself. Some were smoother, aided in their mending by his loved ones. He did not know how lucky he was to have them.

Of course, there were dark patterns in the fabric of his being. Shadows much deeper than others seemed to carry. But that seemed to be a burden bestowed upon all of the High Lords.

Aya liked the Night Court general, too. She had healed Cassian many times over. At first she thought it was recklessness and it was an effort to bite back on her lecture about looking after himself. But she learned, upon closing her eyes, that it was all deliberate. Calculated. It was not carelessness, but devotion. He would take shots and blows for others as often as he could, his shouts and commands ringing out louder than the din of battle. In his mind, he had not done his best unless he was nearly falling apart.

Healing Cassian was like knitting homespun wool yarn. Each stitch snug and precise, marled grey and white like the Illyrian mountains. The colors were so solemn, the material so practical, but the finished product warm and comforting. That seemed to sum him up. He always had a grin and a wink for her, always a genuine thank you and some absurd compliment. He was consistent, always, like the woven pattern of his being.

Over the course of the battle, Aya collected those images, like a scrapbook of the people around her. She mended seams, knit and wove, spun thread, molded clay. Every once in a while, she was too late. The knitting had too many missed stitches, too many loops had come loose and it all unraveled beneath her hands. Every time, she mourned with her whole heart. Grieved until it hurt.

If she kept her eyes closed, tuned into that other realm, she could watch the soul depart this world. Always drifting toward the sky like a wisp of smoke. The first handful of times she had witnessed it she had not been able to look away, frozen in place by some terrifying curiosity. Or perhaps it was the desire to see them off, on the chance that her guidance could provide one last comfort.

But she did not like to watch it anymore. It would show up in her dreams that night without fail, always with her hands reaching and that soul slipping through her fingers despite her efforts. Today, she did not need to give her nightmares any more material to work with.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Aya did not see Eris until the battle was over. The possibility of seeing him here, of seeing the worst, had haunted her every moment since she had arrived with the rest of the healers. She never had the heart to scan the lifeless bodies for his pale, freckled face, but she also feared that she would be the last to know if something had happened to him. There was a long list of people who would take priority first.

It was a strange thing, the aftermath of battle. The air was thick, relief and mourning twining together into something heavy and difficult to breathe. Celebratory laughter and singing clashed with the solemn sounds of funeral rites and grieving songs. Metal clanged as armor and weapons were moved and cleaned, soldiers lay resting wherever they could before the journey home.

Among the chaos, a glint of red captured Aya's attention and she turned to see Eris striding across the field, armor glittering in the sun and that crimson cape billowing behind him. Her breath caught in her throat as he pivoted and his russet eyes locked on hers. The relief was immense, almost painful as she drowned in it.

Even so, she was prepared to see him turn the other way and pretend he hadn't seen her, as he had done at the High Lord's meeting. And she would be content, just knowing he had lived. But he did not look away. Eyes growing wild, he turned on his heel and rushed toward her. He pulled off his gauntlets and let them thump to the ground, hands reaching for her face the moment he was close enough.

"Sparrow," He murmured, turning her head back and forth to look for injuries. He took in her tired eyes, swiping a thumb over the purple bags and lines of dirt. "I was afraid I'd find you here. I'm so glad you're alright."

Aya was speechless, staring up at him with her lips parted as she searched for words. She was still confused, her thoughts snapping back and forth between lingering anger and relief to see him. Her skin burned under his touch, under the eyes of those that watched them as she could practically hear the gossip forming on their tongues.

"I never got to apologize," He said in a rush, his voice hoarse. He paused, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips.

Aya’s head throbbed. She did not have room for this in her mind, today. Not for the memories of their last conversation or for whatever game he was playing now, looking at her like she was the sun when anyone could see and overhear his pet names.

Her mind was still reeling from these last days, trying to process everything she had seen and heard and felt. There had been no room for hesitation and no place for her fear, all anxiety barred from her body so as not to weigh her down. Now the fear and pain rushed back in, like predators reclaiming their territory and she was nothing but a vessel for the conflict, barely holding herself together.

So, Aya let her gaze drop from his eyes and fall to the grass, breathing deeply in an attempt to placate the beasts threatening to tear her apart.

Eris watched, and she missed the understanding dawning on his face as he studied her trembling form. He swallowed the dozens of things he wished to say and put aside his desire to extinguish the nightmare that had haunted him since the High Lord's meeting. Later. He could say it all later.

As her eyes trailed back upwards, they snagged on Eris’s hurt knee, blood dripping between the plates of armor on his leg.

"You're hurt," She said, unable to resist despite her tiredness, "Let me heal you."

"Alright," He was still for a moment as he considered protesting. But right now he'd do anything to lift even a fraction of her burden, so he picked up the gauntlets and followed after her.

She led him to a quiet tent, only a few others inside, resting or bandaging fellow healers. A few heads turned at the Autumn heir, tall and regal. And then their stares flickered to Aya, the black sheep of the Dawn Court leading the way for him. She ignored them, as she was developing quite the talent for.

"Sit," She murmured, scurrying to find a clean rag.

Eris obeyed, sitting on the edge of a cot and removing the armor from his leg to reveal his bloody knee. He watched her trembling hands, chest aching as he imagined what she may have been through. The memories of his first battle had stayed sharp through the centuries, the desolation still so heavy after all this time.

"Aya," He said when she’d returned, keeping his voice soft.

Taking the supplies from her hands and setting them aside, he reached out and took her shaking fingers in his, gently pulling her in to stand between his knees. He rubbed his thumbs over her icy knuckles, grimacing at the dried blood under her fingernails. His power was nearing the dregs, but he still willed a bit of heat to the surface to warm her skin.

She looked up at him, such sorrow in her grey eyes, and when her chin wobbled, it broke him. Aya was strong and brave and could do whatever she put her mind to. But he would still choose to keep her away from this place, too full of death and hurt and blood.

"You did well, today," He whispered.

They stayed like that for a long moment, Aya standing in the shelter of his body, absorbing his heat and all the comfort he tried to emanate. This time as she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, Eris's warmth began to wash away the terrible things she had seen. The ways she had failed. The lives that had slipped into the afterlife while she had no choice but to watch.

The burlap tent dimmed the sunshine, beams of light sneaking through ripped holes in the fabric to dapple Eris’s skin. Between those golden spots and his whiskey-brown-sugar scent, Aya could almost pretend they were somewhere else, under the canopy of the Autumn forest.

"Thank you," She murmured. Her eyes fluttered open and Eris let out a breath, relieved at the return of the steadiness he'd grown used to.

Heaving a deep sigh, Aya grabbed a cloth and began to wipe the blood from his skin. With the tender moment passed, the silence between them was heavy, charged with unsaid things. It did not help that the air was filled with the tang of blood and the cries of the injured.

Aya tossed the bloody rag into a bucket and closed her eyes once more.

Through the darkness, shapes began to emerge, that other world coming into view. Searching for his essence, she found the woven texture of Eris's tapestry. It appeared before her in all its loveliness - a gorgeous scene of Autumn woods, adorned with thread that shone like rubies. She had seen it a dozen times by now, but she was always captivated by it's beauty. By the secrets hiding between the threads.

She desperately wished to know the meaning of all of them. The hounds and the maple leaves were clear enough, but what of the birds and the chess pieces and the interlocking pattern cleverly hidden in the leaves of the trees? There were stories in all of them, pieces that made Eris who he was. Her hunger to know them had never lessened, and she was beginning to wonder if it ever would.

The section that needed fixing was interlaced with gold, and Aya found herself already equipped with a length of gold thread, wrapped around her forefinger like it was a spool.

She went to work, filling the gaps in the images and stitching down loose threads. Her magic eagerly rushed to the surface, still energized and ready. Its endlessness reminded her of the time of daily faebane doses to keep her powers from being revealed to Amarantha. The memory was bitter on her tongue, the horrid taste of faebane like a vengeful ghost.

At least now, she did not have to rush. There were no rows of beds waiting for her help. It was just Eris, patient and calm and not in any danger.

There was just enough golden thread around her finger to finish the job. But as she tried to find the end of the spool and tie off her work, she found it had wrapped in a loop in the exact place her golden band should be. Pulling on the string revealed it to be as unmoving as Edana's ring, as if it were attached to her skin. Aya tugged her hand back but the thread pulled tight, attaching her to Eris’s tapestry.

Again, she pulled, but it did not budge. A pulse traveled back down it, sending a tingling feeling through her hand, as if the tapestry had tugged back.

What was this? This was like no healing she’d ever experienced. Once more, Aya yanked as hard as she could, and heard Eris make a choking sound in front of her.

Her eyes snapped open. She was met with the image of Eris, his brows furrowed in confusion, a hand resting on his armored chest. Aya's heart stuttered, her throat closing with her rising panic. Time seemed to slow to a stop, and through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard his heartbeat. Her own echoed, calling back like a songbird.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, afraid of the answer.

"A chest pain," He said, and he shook his head, any suspicion clearing from his mind. He was oblivious.

Aya could not breathe. She closed her eyes again, willing her lungs to fill with air, and she could still see that golden thread, bridging their tapestries. She dared not pull it again, not with Eris right in front of her.

Had she done that? Had she made it herself? Was she that powerful, that she could forge a bond with her own hands?

"Are you alright?" Eris asked, eyes flicking back and forth between hers.

She ignored him, thoughts whirling faster and faster. She couldn't look at him anymore. His gaze burned, burned like fire and it hurt. The space between them was painful and her body was crying out for her to close the gap, to weave every thread of herself together with his and become one.

“I need you to go,” Aya swallowed hard. Eris opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off with an unconvincing smile and added, “I just need to lie down.”

He stared at her for a long moment, anxiety written so clearly in his eyes. It took all of the strength Aya had left not to tear away from his gaze, not to let tears rise to the surface and his hands wipe them away. The magnetic draw pulling her towards him only aided in confirming her suspicions and furthering her panic.

Finally, his lips drew into a tight line and he nodded.

“Please take care of yourself,” He said, slotting the armor back into place. At the entrance to the tent, he gave her one last glance before returning to the field.

Aya managed to wait until he had left to let the tears fall, dropping slowly to her knees and bending to let her forehead rest on the edge of the cot. What had she done?

She hadn't meant to do it. She had only been trying to heal him. Oh gods, had she trapped him, by accident?

All at once, everything that she was not flooded her mind. He deserved someone better. Someone less strange, someone people weren't afraid of. Someone smart and gorgeous with a mind for politics. Someone from Autumn, who Edana would love and welcome.

Trapped trapped trapped hammered against her skull in a steady rhythm. What had she done? Selfish selfish selfish.

She cursed her power over and over. It was not possible. It could not be possible.

And yet, she felt empty, her body acutely aware of his absence. The thread itched, begging her to chase after him and be closer. She had dreamt of a mating bond before, in the way that most young people did.

But this did not feel like a rose-tinted daydream come to life. This was another nightmare.

______________________________________

p.s. there is a metaphor in here that was especially fun to write if you can find it I'll give you a prize 👀

[oneleggedflamingo]

31.12-23

One of my faves. :3

- Vivera Rossi

[vestaignis]

Великолепие оленей в снегу. The magnificence of deer in the snow.

Источник:/ru.35photo.pro/photo_2868181/#author/2868181,

/kartin.papik.pro/sneg/38522-kartinki-oleni-v-snegu-69-foto.html,

/oir.mobi/666984-olen-zimoj.html.

[camcorderrevival]

YELLOWJACKETS + ARTEMIS AND ACTAEON

He is transformed into a deer with a dappled hide and long antlers, robbed of his ability to speak, and thereafter promptly flees in fear. It is not long, however, before his own hounds track him down and kill him.

[ yellowjackets, various scenes || artemis wrath: actaeon, metamorphoses, actaeon wiki, artemis wiki, artemis goddess of... || inspired by this post, by @maryblackwood​​ ]​

[m1smatched-starsigns]

in DF, if Crowfrost was to become Crowstar, which cats would be present at his nine lives ceremony?

Oooh interesting question! In no particular order:

1. Rowanstar

2. Ivytail

3. Whitewater

4. Smokefoot

5. Runningkit / Fallowkit

6. Toadfoot

7. Blackstar

8. Littlecloud

9. Tawnypelt

[marmosetpaw]

[frillsbymills]

A Court of Thorns and Roses 🌹🪸🍁❄️☀️🌅✨

[ceaseless-rambler]

After a long, arduous journey to collect the supplies and hours of turmoil, I present to you! A cake!

[velidewrites]

Genuinely tired of ACOTAR's worldbuilding not being explored to its full potential so please enjoy my take on the geopolitical environment of Prythian and its Courts (extremely chaotic but I tried)

Long post ahead

The Spring Court

So much more than "a rolling green land." The Spring Court has been ruled by Tamlin's family for generations.

Millenia ago, a powerful beast born by the Cauldron roamed the South of the island. With the Mother's touch, legend says, the beast had become man—and the very first High Lord of Spring. Yes, it was nothing but a landscape of rolling green hills and forests on the horizon—at first. But that changed until the Beast's three sons grew into their power—and challenged their father for his land.

To appease his sons, the High Lord had split his land into three Territories, each to be governed by one of his children.

The First Territory spanned over the wilderness at the very south, from the lush forests of vibrant green, inhabited by Fae and humans alike, to the great wide sea at the island's border. Centuries later, after the War, the First Territory shrunk, limited by the power of the magical Wall. Now, it acts as the primary defence of the Spring Court from the Mortal Lands, and home to the less civilised, murderous Lesser Fae like the bogge. When they don't serve the High Lord at his Manor, the Spring Court's military resides in the First Territory.

The Second Territory initially was the small scrap of land at the West, as the High Lord's second son was the most greedy and as such, the least favourite of the Beast's children. Unfortunately for him, his greed was equal to his power, and it was the second son that had eventually defeated his father and brothers, ultimately taking his place as the Spring Court's rightful ruler. Over his rule, the Second Territory expanded from the West to the land's very centre. Today, it is home to most of Spring Court's residence, High and Lesser Fae alike. Due to its proximity to the prosperous Summer Court above, and the Kingdom of Hybern across the sea, the Second Territory thrives on marine trade. Most of its residence have found their occupation in the fishing industry.

The Third Territory was home to the High Lord and his youngest, favourite son. Spanning over the East side of the Court, it has the most beautiful sights to offer. The Third Territory is home to the wealthy to this day—the nobility of the Spring Court, and the High Lord Himself.

The Spring Court enjoys one of the largest lands in Pythian, and up until Amarantha's reign, it had been one of the most prosperous. Is there any hope for the Court's future left?

The Summer Court

Unlike the Spring Court, the Summer Court's governing body had changed multiple times over the centuries—and with it, so did the Court's landscape.

The very first Court (or so general history says) to host a real city, the Summer Court's pride and jewel is Adriata. The sandstone-made cliffside location enjoys beautiful beaches and castle-like homes for the wealthy to enjoy. A popular vacationing destination, Adriata is mostly inhabited by High Fae Lords of the Summer Court—though with the new High Lord, the young and ambitious, this regime is thought to change very soon.

Due to the mountainous North within its borders, most of the Summer Court's citizens reside in the South. Those in close proximity to the Eastern sea are experts in marine trade, and, similarly to the Second Territory in Spring, mostly engage in fishing and marine craftsmanship. Up until Amarantha's rule, in fact, Hybern was the Summer Court's primary importer of ships and other aquatic modes of transport. As such, the Southeastern part of the Court has seen many developments in infrastructure, with small towns modelled after the great Adriata gradually appearing on the coastline.

Due to strategic convenience, the High Lord of Summer resides below the forests of the West. The close proximity to the Spring and Autumn courts allows for easy communication, guaranteeing quick access should a need for a diplomatic visit arise—something that proved particularly useful during the Great War with Hybern.

The Autumn Court

The Vanserra family established its rule over the Autumn Court after the very first High Lord mysteriously passed with no heirs. Since then, the fire-wielding High Lords have held the land in their tight grasp without the intention of ever letting go.

Due to the majority of the area being veiled in forests, the majority of the population specialises in one of two crafts: hunting or lumber. With the latter being the Court's sole export, a great emphasis is placed on educating the youth on the importance of the industry. In fact, young Autumn Fae are sent into the forest with nothing but an axe for an entire week as a sort of initiation process. If they make use of the tool by hunting and building adequate shelter and survive the seven days, they are deemed as worthy citizens of the Court.

Aside from the High Lord and his family, residing in the Forest House, the Court is governed by four High Fae lords, each presiding over lumber extraction in one of the four areas of the Forest—the North, the South, the East, and the West. The Lords report monthly on their area's performance, and are rewarded with generous compensation if the High Lord deems it satisfactory.

Mysteriously, the High Lord himself opts to reside on the East of the Court, about as far away from Autumn's shared borders as possible.

The mountainous North remains another mystery. Rumour has it that Autumn's highly skilled military resides and trains there from birth until their services are finally required. The harsh conditions provide a strict training regime, and as such, Autumn's warriors are notorious for their survival skills.

The Winter Court

With most of its land frozen and barren, the Winter Court is very strategic in its locations. The Great Tundra at the Court's centre remains largely unoccupied to this day—with sightings of strange, fur-clad creatures roaming the land being reported every now and then. Their murderous instincts led the Court's citizens to take up residence in the West—where the proximity to the sea provides more habitable conditions. The North, unfortunately, remains a dangerous territory due to its shared border with The Middle and its deathly, mysterious creatures.

As such, the East is where most of the Court resides, including the High Lord himself. The Winter Palace is closest to the North, build upon a mountain overlooking the East's Settlements. Each Settlement is a relatively small territory, overlooked by the Court's nobility. The Winter Court is reported to have approximately six Settlements.

After restoring relations with the Solar Courts, the Winter Court is eager to open up settlements in the mountains, with reports of the Middle's threats having significantly decreased after the War with Hybern.

The Dawn Court

Unrivalled in its beauty, the Dawn Court is a land of quiet peace.

Eager to admire the sun rise every morning, the Court's residents mostly live in the mountains in the South, unbothered by their shared border with the Middle. Their firm belief is that no evil creatures could ever do harm in a place of such beauty.

Most of the West side of the mountains is inhabited by regular citizens who, over the centuries, have built cities of immense elegance and architectural genius. The buildings seemingly grow out of the stone and connect the mountains together, creating one, large community.

The East is home to the Peregryns, winged Fae of the utmost grace who mostly act as the Court's aerial legion. They watch over the cities of the West, patrolling the mountains daily and reporting on any dangers that may arise.

The High Lord of the Dawn Court has always resided at the Palace, a stunning structure in the Northwestern Mountains, so high they rise above the clouds themselves. Beneath those mountains there is a beautiful, fragrant land that is home to monthly Festival of the Moon and Sun, where all of the Court's citizens gather to celebrate the sky above.

The Day Court

A land of the sun, embraced by its warmth. The Day Court truly has it all—the Eastern beaches that rival Adriata in their beauty, the Western cities carved from marble and stone, and the spectacular mountains up North.

The East is a popular holiday destination, and the High Lord is known to host lavish events of such magnitude that some have deemed the tradition scandalous. Credit must be given where it's due, though—prior to Helion Spellcleaver's reign, the land was largely unused, its beautiful sights overlooked for the past few centuries. The High Lord's involvement in rebuilding the Eastern infrastructure has significantly boosted the Court's economy, with many citizens opting to move across the land and live a prosperous, relaxed lifestyle.

Although much of the West had been ruined over Amarantha's rule, the Day Court's great cities have been quickly rebuilt given the resolve of the High Lord and his subjects. The cities of Day are now the greatest in Prythian, and are leaders in research and innovation. The most renowned scholars, historians and magic users alike, have stemmed from the Day Court's institutions.

The High Lord himself resides in the Southwest, his cliffside Palace providing some of the most spectacular views in Prythian. The residence overlooks the capital city, the very first one of its kind in any of the courts, which is a treasury of knowledge. Hosting the High Lord's libraries, the city draws in people of all Courts, and, after the shattering of the Wall—even some brave humans.

The Night Court

Perhaps the most secretive Court of all, life in the Night Court happens beyond the mountains, which act as the primary line of defence. The Court of Nightmares presides over this area, though only its military is ever granted access above the mountains—most of the citizens live underground.

The Court of Nightmares is governed by Hewn City, which directly reports to the elusive High Lord. The entire nobility gathers there, plotting in the shadows. Due to its sheer scale, the Court of Nightmares splits into small areas called Cities. Each City lies under one mountain, all governed by the primary Hewn City and kept in line by selected Emissaries.

Beyond the Court of Nightmares lie the Illyrian lands—the Illyrian Mountains and the Illyrian Steppes. The large area is home to the Illyrians, winged Fae of great strength and power who, similarly to the Peregryns, compose most of the Court's military. Still, because of historically prevalent animosity between Illyrians and the High Fae, the Illyrian legions mostly steer clear of the Court of Nightmares, letting their own military patrol the area.

On the West lies the most heavily guarded secret of Prythian, if not the entire world. Velaris, the City of Starlight, is home to tens of thousands of Fae. The Night Court citizens residing in Velaris enjoy a life of serenity, with the city's infrastructure providing them with their every need. Velaris is also home to the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court.

Between the Northeast and West lies a small island which belongs to the Night Court. The Prison is a place avoided by all Fae and visited only by those desperate enough to risk their lives at most, and sanity at the very least.