#priestess nia

[crowlion]

my reaction to this information:

Nia lip biting consumes my every single thought

[storyofmychoices]

WIP: Nia Ellarious

I'll come back to this one eventually, but since it might be a while (because I'm doing Book 1 Nia and Book 2 Aerin next [poll]), I thought I'd share this much because I still like it! 💖

[Geometric Art Masterlist]

[phaaz]

∧＿∧

　 (｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*

⊂/　 /　

　しーＪ　　

I’m still working on my mini blades fan vn…hopefully I can finish it before blades 2 but it might come out after (if at all). Anyway here’s some sneak peeks of Nia’s and Tyril’s cgs

[griffinsabina]

[nascentwaves]

I can hear them echoing down the hall. The old masters and their rituals are well-preserved in time...their words continue to escape me. They are elusive with their rituals, their dances under twin suns. Even I cannot grasp at the words they speak, the purpose of their motions...

What use am I to those beyond the Veil if I cannot do such a simple task? There has to be a way, there has to be a way...

[coffee-b]

so i decided my first attack for 2024 would be absolutely ridiculous

meet my 2302.5 point monstrosity, the artfight tarot!! i busted my ass for a solid week getting all of these out and i am so happy with how it turned out

credits and image description under the cut - it's a long one!!

Image ID: A collection of tarot cards, redone with characters from Artfight. The full major arcana is depicted.

The Fool. Siv by @houseplantcreature. He is a pale-skinned eladrin with dark hair, cropped to his shoulders. He wears a long blue robe. He is standing as though in motion on a cliffside.

2. The Magician. Lucinia by NearlyFinch on Artfight. She is a tiefling with deep purple skin and darker, wavy hair. She wears a blue vest and darker skirt over a beige top. She holds one hand up, brandishing a candle.

3. The High Priestess. Valkeres by @moondirge. She is a dark elf with light grey skin and white hair, cut to her shoulders. She wears a long red robe and sits facing the viewer.

4. The Empress. Nia by northwestnerd on Artfight. She is a human woman with brown skin and long, braided brown hair. She wears an elegant blue robe and sits, slightly askew, facing the viewer.

5. The Emperor. Fionn by coincidental on Artfight. He is a human man with pale skin and coiffed brown hair. He wears a regal blue and gold top over a white shirt and brown pants. He sits on a throne. While his body faces the viewer, his eyes look away.

6. The Hierophant. Emilios by Sun--Ray on Artfight. He is a revenant drow with neon teal skin and wild, light hair. He wears a loose white top over simple pants. He sits on a throne, one hand raised, the other clutching a staff.

7. The Lovers. Raphael by @halflngs. Rime and Ares by @mothymort. Raphael is an aasimar with dark skin and an afro undercut. He wears an open red robe and has broad wings. He holds his hands out as though in welcome. Rime is a tiefling with light blue skin, with tattoos on each shoulder. She wears tight-fitting purple clothing, revealing her midriff. Ares is a purple tiefling with darker hair. He wears an outfit that is mostly covered by a teal scarf. Rime and Ares look up at Raphael, their tails intertwining.

8. The Chariot. Vee by @saribrum. Cornelius by FleshEaterMike on Artfight. Chester by dwarjam on Artfight. Vee is an air genasi with light grey skin and long white hair, pulled into a ponytail. She wears plate armour and a maroon cape. She leans forward, glaring at the viewer. Cornelius is a brown horse with a white diamond on his face. Chester is a dappled horse in shades of brown with striking blue eyes and a curly mane. The horses face forward, appearing to pull the chariot.

9. Strength. Rofaren and Tralen by AmaraPopsicles on Artfight. Rofaren is an elf woman with pale skin and long blonde hair, which is pulled into a ponytail. She wears a red cloak. Tralen is a reddish-brown canine. Tralen bows while Rofaren strokes his head; his mouth is open.

10. The Hermit. Allisi by @seraviic. She is an aasimar with brown skin and dark, curly hair, which is pulled into a bun. She stands in profile, holding a lantern in one hand and a staff in the other. She is covered by a dark green cloak.

11. The Wheel of Fortune. Arwyn by @eidolonartt. Elizasviel by @faekeet. Raya by @longdoggo. Alfie by drawing_angie on Artfight. Zoryenne by @wyllora. Myou by alabaster-D on Artfight. Arwyn is an elf with pale skin and long red hair; he sits atop an orange wheel and gazes off to the left. Elizasviel is an Aneski elf with brown skin and long brown hair; she has cow-like ears and horns. She sits on her stomach, reading a book. Raya is an air genasi with teal-blue skin and airy white hair; she wears a bodysuit and sits with a book in her hands. Alfie is a half-elf man with pale skin and dark, curly hair, which falls to his mid-back; he wears a loose, white top and sits with a book in his hand, grinning. Zoryenne is a tiefling with pink skin and darker pink hair (fading into orange); she wears a loose-fitting white top and sits, holding a book, looking intently at Arwyn. Myou is a lamia with greenish-brown skin and long brown hair; the snake half of her body curls around the wheel in the centre of the card.

12. Justice. Euryale by Mariens_art on Artfight. Euryale is an orc/storm genasi with bluish skin and long, curly grey hair. They wear a blue gown and sit on a throne, glaring at the viewer. They hold a sword in one hand and scales in the other.

13. The Hanged Man. Sonya by saltyalien on Artfight. Sonya is a woman with pale skin and dark hair. She hangs upside down, tied by one ankle. She is wearing a long, purple-blue dress, and stares at the viewer.

14. Death. Laevanni by opera on Artfight. Belladonna by andromedajuice on Artfight. Belladonna is a large, black unicorn with a striking white star on her head and a long white horn. She rears backwards. Laevanni is an elf with pale skin and long, white hair, which flares out behind him. They wear a purple outfit with wide sleeves, and they are holding on to the bucking unicorn.

15. Temperance. Penance by @meowhusband. Penance is a tiefling with red skin and curly black hair. He wears an open, sheer top with golden accents. His eyes are closed, and he pours water from one cup into another.

16. The Devil. Nyria by @sunfloralchaos. Nyria is a tiefling with purplish-grey skin and long, white hair. She wears an open top, revealing tattoos of a sun and waves. She is crouching, one hand pointed up, the other down. In front of her, two featureless human figures are chained together by the necks.

17. The Tower. Marigold by @papyskellington. Davine by a_tired_witch on Artfight. The card depicts two figures leaping or falling from a tower, which is being struck by lightning. Marigold is a half-elf with tan skin and curly brown hair. She wears a red cape and blue armour, which billow behind her. Davine is an orange tiefling with long black hair. They wear a simple outfit of a white top and brown pants.

18. The Star. Ikarus by jocanooo on Artfight. He is an aasimar with lightly tanned skin and long blonde hair. He wears golden armour. He kneels before a pond, holding ewers in each hand. A collection of stars covers the sky above him.

19. The Moon. Fig by @magpips. Captain by @theelfdruid. Shadow by @cowboycatss. Fig, a changeling with light grey skin and hair, is depicted in profile, taking up the space of the moon. Captain, a green dog with a curled tail and pointed ears, looks up at them, appearing to bark. Shadow, a black and white dog looking similar to a border collie, sits in profile, gazing up at the moon.

20. The Sun. Bleating Sheep by WoodenToucans on Artfight. Taaf by @sp00n-planet. Bleating Sheep is a kenku wearing a white robe. He sits on the back of Taaf, a centaur with brown skin, darker brown hair, and a mahogany horse half. She looks back at him, arms raised, grinning. Bleating Sheep holds a long red flag.

21. Judgement. Ciel by demonicbird on Artfight. Ciel is an astral elf with pale blue skin and starry freckles. He wears a large blue hat and a purple vest. Appearing from behind the clouds, he blares a trumpet towards featureless people with arms outstretched.

22. The World. Farley by @erythaia. Farley is a half-elf man with brown skin and curly, dark hair. He wears an open white top and simple black pants. Around him is wrapped an orange cloth. He appears to be floating. End ID.

[bedtimegiraffe]

Nia has always been a badass- it just takes her a while to put it to use for her own sake

When you first meet Nia, she's running into town asking for help in her pretty, sparkly dress that looks like it would catch on every branch in the world. And she has a pretty low opinion of her fighting skills. Everything about the setup seems to suggest she's going to be a healer you have to focus on protecting.

And Nia's right, she isn't great at taking care of herself. But not for the reason she thinks! It's not that she's at all weak, physically, mentally, or magically.

I think it's because of her assumption that she can't fight. That she's fragile. And because she initially thinks she's no use in combat, the second Nia's in danger she just gives up and calls for help.

But the second someone else is in danger? Well, Nia doesn't hesitate. She starts destroying necromantic skeletons, because she's certainly not going to just stand by and let someone get hurt.

She'll do this as soon as the Temple of Ellara if you screw up. No hesitation, just smashing shadow hounds. Then she's shocked that it worked! Because it didn't occur to her she could help until she did it out of protective instinct.

It's devastating to Nia when Scholar Vash dies to the Shadow Court. She mourns him. She has a big, well deserved cry about it. But she doesn't stop there. Because other people are in trouble. She immediately goes, "No one else dies. I'm going to kick the Shadow Court's ass. You coming?"

The team's encouragement, especially MC's, slowly helps Nia see that she can be badass. That she is badass.

And that is how she saves the world. By becoming aware of what she was always capable of. MC has to remind Nia of all she loves and wants to protect in the world to help her resist the Dreadlord. Because that's easier for Nia than fighting for herself.

But it's Nia finding confidence and strength in who she is, separate from her commitment to others, that ultimately lets her save the day.

Basically, I love the story of this sweet priestess who thinks she's fragile, only to realize she's so powerful and determined she's disrupted the plans of a guy called the Dreadlord.

Screenshots from my hero, Neckrone Shen on youtube whose 4 playthroughs of Blades have saved me hours of replaying.

[divinum-pacis]

August 15, 2023: Yoruba priestess Aina-Nia leads a water ceremony by Lake Michigan as part of the Parliament of the World's Religions in Chicago. During the ceremony, which recognized the sacredness of water, water from different parts of the world was combined and poured into the lake.

Photo by Lauren Pond

[the-unconquered-queen]

Currently wondering about the ages of the party members in Blades wrt each other, because with the exception of Aerin and Tyril (with Tyril’s age being an estimate provided outside of the book), we kind of have to rely on context clues and analysis to get them.

So far what I’m able to guess, from youngest to oldest, is:

Aerin -> MC -> Mal -> Tyril -> Valax

Aerin is canonically 20 in b2 and 21 in b2 (Edit: he'd only be 21 in b2 if he was imprisoned; otherwise, he'd have only been with the goblins for about a fortnight, like MC, and he'd still be a freshly-turned 20)

MC cannot be younger than 22 in b1 but could be a bit older (though I’ve said in the past they messed up MC’s age if they’re an elf) and then 23 or older in b2, though I would actually maybe say 23/24 in b1, but 22 minimum is canon, technically (Edit: MC would actually be the same age in b2 as they were in b1, since they physically wouldn’t have aged more than a day even if a year has passed)

Mal left the Reapers at age 20, so not only is he older than that, but also I figure that it must’ve been several years since that for him to have gotten good at the adventuring job and get “continent-famous” and land gigs. Maybe about 25? 26ish? He certainly doesn’t look the youngest, esp compared to someone like Aerin

Tyril is “25”, so in his 70s

Valax is canonically “centuries old”, so over 200, I suppose. I don’t have specifics

The ones I can’t place exactly are Nia and Imtura. I know it’s said that Nia is the youngest priestess, but no age is given, my best guess would be her being about on par with MC (give or take a year, plus I’m willing to bet that with the doe-eyed personality they gave her they meant for her to be one of the younger ones in the story), but there’s also the chance that she’s closer in age to Aerin, though a smooth 20 in b1 strikes me as a bit too young for her.

Then as for Imtura, I’m not sure if they ever give any markers to deduce her age from, but then again, I don’t have all of her scenes to be able to tell.

And then I guess a slight bonus, I estimate Baldur to be about 25/26, because I interpret some things to imply that his age gap with Aerin is not insignificant (as in, it’s not just one or two years).

[mikaelsrose]

Starry Night

Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Reyna) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow 2, chapter 3 Word count: 4000 Rating: T Warnings: emotional hurt Category: hurt/comfort Synopsis: Having reunited with most of her party, Reyna discovers the true extent of the traumatic events of the previous months. A/n: special thanks to @starlight-starfury for encouraging me to include Tyril speaking elven 🫰🏻 × Calanín - my light: elven word of affection, the elven equivalent of the Common language's "my love;" the elves believe that love is often fleeting, but the Light is constant, and the most precious resource they possess. Tag list: @starlight-starfury @cashweasel @watatsumi-island @lilyoffandoms @sophie-summer @lazypartridge @brycesgirl @agattthaa @secret-fungi @megas-choices (if anyone wishes to be added/removed pls let me know!) @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesbookclub

Nia, Mal, and the children had developed a routine, thanks to which the kids changed into their pyjamas, brushed their teeth, and were tucked in under thirty minutes. If one would take Nia at her word, developing the schedule took weeks, but due to eager cooperation the group managed to reduce the time from two hours to just thirty minutes, saving the guardians a considerable amount of time—time that they would spend reading, searching, and discussing the possible methods of rescuing Reyna. After ten minutes, Nia and Mal returned downstairs, having wished the kids a good night and slumped in the chairs, exhausted. Soon, the giggles and banter upstairs quietened down, and Mal breathed out a sigh of relief while Nia smiled at her friends, her features softened by the warm candlelight. 

“Can I offer you anything? Water, tea? We don’t have much, but I’d love to host you properly,” the Priestess chirped, already rising from her seat, but Tyril held out his hand to stop her. 

“It’s alright, thank you, Nia. Save what you have for the children.”

Nia nodded, while the elf rested his left hand on Reyna’s thigh, gently squeezing it in a poorly disguised display of affection. Her lips curved in a soft smile, and she vaguely covered his hand with her own before addressing the rogue before her.

“Lord Weasley of Riverbend, huh?” 

Mal smiled sheepishly and scratched his neck, blushing faintly as if he had been caught in a lie. “I had to improvise, and Riverbend just happened to occupy my mind an awful lot lately.”

“Gotta admit, you really nailed the accent. If I hadn’t known better, I’d think you were a native,” she winked, drawing a laugh from Mal.

“What can I say? I had spent an awful lot of time with you, kit.”

Nia joined the conversation. “How is Kade? I’ve been meaning to visit him, but there was always something urgent to attend to, and…”

“He’s doing just fine, cooped up in the library or in the royal gardens with Loola and Threep. He’s made the Master Librarian his archenemy, though.”

The Priestess chuckled. As Mal rested his arm on the back of her seat, a quiet yawn escaped Reyna’s lips and her eyes watered uncontrollably. She rested her head against Tyril’s shoulder, continuing to smile at her friends. Although she did not feel the true length of her absence, she had missed them, and at that moment she felt at peace. 

The idyllic atmosphere was disrupted by a quiet childish giggle coming from the top of the stairs, and the group's heads turned simultaneously in that direction. Mal sighed exhaustedly and rubbed his tired eyes before addressing the children.

“Guys, we talked about staying up past bedtime!”

The grave silence that followed his remark was soon interrupted by barefoot steps and the creaking of the old wooden floor. A frail, pale blonde girl stood next to Mal and whispered in his ear, her big eyes glued to Reyna. In response, Mal smiled at the child and nodded. “Do you want me to introduce you?”

The girl nodded her head excitedly, and he addressed his friend. 

“Kit, this is Nyra, she's a big fan of yours.” 

Reyna's brows furrowed. "Fan?"

“Mal and Nia often told us stories of your adventures! My favourite is the one when you ran after Duchess Xenia and fought her! I want to be as brave as you when I grow up!” the girl chattered reedily. “Can I ask you a question?”

"Ask away, Nyra," she sent the girl an encouraging smile, squeezing Tyril's hand under the table. 

"Weren't you afraid?"

"I'd be crazy not to be afraid,” she smiled. “Bravery isn't about not being afraid, it's about doing the right thing despite fear."

The girl nodded, drinking the words off Reyna’s lips, staring at her heroine in awe. 

“Now go to sleep, Nyra,” Mal rubbed the girl’s arm, softly pushing her towards the stairs. Before disappearing in the darkness, Nyra waved at the couple, and Reyna sighed.

“Said like a true hero,” Nia concluded while the men agreed silently. 

“It’s good to see you, guys. I just wish Imtura was with us.”

“We’ll find her, don’t fret, Rey-Rey,” Mal assured. The nickname made Reyna groan.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“How about Rey of Sunshine?”

Reyna glowered at him. “Mal, I’m warning you.”

“Reiny?”

“Oh, I like Rey!” Nia joined in the conversation, grinning. 

“What do you think of “Reine”? I think it suits your personality,” the thief continued. “What do you think, elf boy?”

Tyril, smiling softly at the course the conversation took, looked to his left at his partner, his eyes glistening with the reflection of a nearby candlelight. “I believe my answer falls under a public display of affection.”

Nia brightened up. “Aw! It’s so nice seeing you two together again. Tyril had been so miserable without you, Reyna.”

“Tyril, my man, I’d like to remind you that we were direct neighbours at the Palace and their walls are surprisingly thin, so you really shouldn’t be em—”

Tyril cut in, blushing. “Stop talking.”

Grinning, the rogue continued teasing, pointing to Reyna with a nod of his head, while Nia and Tyril grew considerably more abashed. “I see you already had a chance to celebrate.”

Reyna touched her neck, remembering the necklace of red love bites that her lover bestowed upon her the previous night, and bit her lip, slightly embarrassed. She forgot to cover the bruises in the morning as she was in a hurry. The Priestess intervened.

“Stop teasing them, Mal. They’re young and in love, of course they celebrated their reunion.”

In love. The couple looked away, uncomfortable with the subject, but Nia continued, oblivious to their discomfort.

“I’ve been meaning to ask before—” she bit her tongue, cleared her throat, and continued. “Who said it first? Was it romantic? I bet it was! Tyril always had a way with words and—”

“Oh, Priestess, read the room!” Mal chuckled. The redhead’s smile faltered as she raised her eyebrows in question, tilting her head slightly. The rogue explained. “Look at them! Elf boy’s about to turn dark purple, they obviously haven’t said that yet.”

Nia’s lips shaped into the letter “o” as the realisation dawned on her, but before she had a chance to apologise, Reyna intervened. “Alright! It was great to see you, but we should go. It’s getting late, and we need to rest.”

“True,” Mal agreed. “No offence, but you look terrible, lordling.”

“It takes one to know one, thief.”

“You don’t like my haircut? You wound me,” with feigned offence, Mal placed a hand over his heart, making Tyril roll his eyes. Reyna smiled at the exchange, but agreed with Tyril. Mal looked exhausted, the dark spots under his eyes and slouched posture explicit evidence of that. “Let me walk you to the door.”

Hugging Reyna goodbye, Nia whispered, squeezing her eyelids tight. “Please, don’t disappear again.”

Reyna rubbed her friend’s back reassuringly before moving away from the warm embrace. “I’ll do my best.”

“Your disappearance wreaked havoc, kit,” Mal admitted quietly, patting her back. “I know it may look like we just moved on, but there wasn’t a day Nia didn’t stay up late sifting through the Temple’s scrolls in search of rescue. Whenever I got a promising lead, it turned out to be just an urban legend. We—” his voice broke. In no hurry, Mal took a deep breath and moved away, his hands resting on Reyna’s shoulders. “We really tried, kit. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

Reyna smiled comfortingly. “Don’t beat yourself up, Mal. I’m here, in one piece, am I not?”

He smiled. “I suppose.”

“Thank you for trying.”

Unpersuaded by her assurance, Mal nodded weakly, and before the couple took their leave, he patted Tyril’s arm. “Don’t let her out of your sight. See you in the morning.”

Strolling through the streets of the capital, slowly climbing towards the Whitetower castle, Tyril and Reyna grudgingly discussed the following day’s plan, in the meantime looking around for a seamstress. Despite the late hour, one of the very last vendors was still folding clothes in the town square, and being in desperate need of a more appropriate gear, Reyna left Tyril waiting outside. Patiently pacing around the ornate fountain, the elf studied a nearby florist when his gaze stopped at a bouquet of familiar flowers in the man’s hands. It took a bit of haggling and bragging about his title for Tyril to purchase the flowers imported from his homeland—black-petaled frilly sunflowers with luminescent red stamen—but he purchased them, and he could not suppress the proud smile on his face when Reyna emerged from the building with a paper package in her hands. He handed her the gift wordlessly.

“Oh! What’s the occasion?” 

“There is no occasion. These flowers are native to Undermount, we call them melissë anar’insil. They were my mother’s favourite, she grew them in our garden, and…” he bit his lip, blushing slightly. “And they remind me of you.”

“They’re beautiful,” she said quietly, awestruck. “Thank you, Tyril. But you shouldn't have, they look like they have cost a fortune."

"There's a possibility that the saviour got a discount."

A hearty laugh escaped her lips upon hearing the word saviour yet another time the same day. "Admit it, you like being the hero."

Tyril bit his lip, trying to contain his smile. "I suppose the title carries some benefits."

Chuckling, she climbed on the tip of her toes and pressed her lips to his for a short, sweet kiss. She could still faintly taste the sour lime lemonade with mint on his lips, the drink he claimed his favourite, the memory bringing a smile to her face. She thought of their first, and at the same time last, date—the day they partook in festival activities, roamed the streets of Whitetower holding hands, made love in a secluded tower, and ended up intoxicating themselves at a local tavern with Riverbendian drinks. As if reading her mind, Tyril’s lips curved in a knowing smile.

“Does the name of the flower mean anything in Common?” she asked, interlacing their fingers. Resuming their lazy stroll back to the castle, the elf nodded, yet he took his time with the answer, eventually smiling sheepishly. 

“It translates to ‘the lovers’ sunflower.’ These sunflowers are considered the flower of royalty in Undermount as due to their rarity only the wealthiest can afford them, and they symbolise devotion, loyalty, and adoration.”

Nodding, Reyna brought the bouquet closer to her face and took a deep breath. The smell was sweet but not overpowering, reminding her of the first days of summer, and the exact smell of Tyril’s bedchamber in Undermount. She remembered walking out to the balcony when he fell asleep and seeing the luminescent stamen in the darkness, thinking how otherworldly they made the garden look. 

“I can see why these were your mother’s favourites.”

“Their appearance is but a fraction of the reason for her admiration. Mother adored them because father asked for her hand in marriage with half a dozen bouquets of these flowers and had showered her with grandiose bouquets ever since on the most important occasions. She always said it’s a perfect addition to any confessions and talked very fondly of the day Adrina was born as father had the Manor’s ballroom filled with flowers,” Tyril reminisced, his gaze distant but a smile was playing on his lips.  

“I’d love to hear more about your mom, she sounds like a very kind soul.”

Tyril nodded. “She was. However, that is a story for another day. We should hurry, it will rain soon.”

The moment Tyril locked their chamber's door, the toller announced the clock struck eleven and Reyna plopped down on the mattress exhausted. 

"You don't have to buy me flowers if you want to propose, I'm a simple girl, Tyril," she teased, yawning. The elf flushed purple, realising how inauspiciously he crafted his words back in the town square, and smiled at her. "Duly noted."

"And if you want to fool around, just stay the word," she winked, unlacing the corset of her dress. "Not today, though, I'm dead on my feet."

"Ever the romantic," he smiled. As he helped her out of her clothes and into a loose nightgown, Tyril made sure she was tightly tucked in, and soon joined her, stroking her back until she fell asleep.  

People have a saying, one that Tyril overheard while patrolling the streets of Port Parnassus, just minutes before he first bumped into Reyna. They say that what does not kill will make you stronger, and during the year she was gone he prayed it was true. He hoped all this suffering was not in vain.

Yet now she was here with him and he felt everything but stronger. He felt weak, broken, undeserving. He couldn't protect her. It should've happened to him. 

He hadn't slept the night before—after he lulled his beloved to sleep, he stayed guard in case of the worst. It gave him plenty of time to look at her, admire the features that he had prayed to see again, to assess the damage she had suffered at the hands of… Of who exactly? She didn't want to talk about it, and he didn't push her. Overwhelming her was the very last thing he wanted to make her feel so soon after returning; alas, because of that choice, his imagination was running wild. His mind was painting the pictures of Reyna running through the obsidian desert, fighting the remaining Shadow soldiers, battered, aghast, and disappointed she had to save herself because the people closest to her had failed. 

Studying the fresh horizontal scar on her inner arm, Tyril ventured into a dangerous territory of fear-fueled theories as to what lay ahead. The Shadow Realm was an unexplored area, where unlike Morella they were on a hiding to nothing. Tyril did not doubt the loyalty and capability of their group, but they managed to win the fight against the Dreadlord by a stroke of fortune—had it not been for the Priestess’ sacrifice, the party would have lost at least two members, himself included. If the new enemy was indeed a competition to the Shadow Court, they needed allies. 

Tyril noticed that upon her return, Reyna not only possessed new wounds and scars, but also lacked that mesmerising glint in her eye, her movements were slower, and body weaker, not to any sudden or loud noises paralysed her with fear. Reyna came back different. Tyril would even risk saying that it was not Reyna who came back. Not the one he knew. It was someone new entirely.

The woman next to him took in a shuddering breath, her fingers gripping the duvet tightly. Restless even in her sleep, Reyna was indisputably facing the consequences of living through numerous traumatic events within a short time period without respite. Reaching forward, Tyril smoothed out the worried crease between her brows with his thumb, deluding himself that with this simple gesture he was able to transfer all her worries onto himself. 

Take the utmost care of her and relay that Father and I rejoice at the news of Reyna’s return! 

Against his will, Tyril’s mind replayed the moment of reading Adrina's letter. Could he truly protect Reyna? Without demur, he would give his life trying to ensure her safety, albeit such sacrifice seemed pointless from his current standpoint. If he was gone, who would protect her?

“I suppose sleep is not my ally tonight,” she sighed to herself, having woken up from a nightmare-filled sleep. Wrapped in their sheets, Reyna observed Tyril, carefully studying his back, the hair that cascaded over his muscles, the way the moonlight reflected on his skin and how utterly ethereal he looked against the starry night sky. He was sitting on his legs on the balcony, facing the city, unnaturally still. As concern gripped her heart, Reyna cautiously walked over and touched his shoulder. 

"Tyril, are you alright?"

The elf looked up, snapped out of his reverie, and his hand covered hers mechanically. "I was meditating. I'm alright."

As it dawned on her, she covered her lips with a hand, doused with a wave of embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry, that's— that makes much more sense than what I feared," she blubbered. She did not intend to reveal the exact reason of her concern, he did not need to hear that her initial thought was that he had been petrified the same way Kaya was. "I won't bother you any longer, I'll just—"

Tyril slowly rose to his feet and rubbed her arm. "It's alright, Reyna, I was supposed to finish a long time ago anyway. Let's get you back to bed."

As his hand rested on the small of her back, he noticed the dampness of her skin. 

"Do you do that often? Meditate?"

He nodded. "It's supposed to be only thirty minutes a day, but…" he sighed. "Once the feasible solutions were depleted, I started praying for a miracle. There was nothing more that I could do but pray, so I prayed for hours on end."

Reyna bit her bit as an impulsive thought emerged in her mind. "Would you pray with me?"

As the look of surprise flowered on his face, his brows furrowed, but his expression changed into a kind, encouraging smile within seconds.

"Absolutely. Is there anything in particular you'd wish to pray for?" 

Her answer was affirmative. "Do you mind telling me a bit more about your prayers first? I'm not exactly religious, and I don't know much about your gods, but I feel like it's the right thing to do."

"Anyone is welcome to seek comfort and guidance from the gods, you needn't be religious for that," he reassured. "We do not have many prayers per se as we'd rather engage in a silent conversation with the gods during meditation, but should one need a prayer there is a universal formula. I can't know for certain, but I believe the gods would look kindly on prayers for blessing or good fortune," he explained, gently rubbing her back as he guided her inside. As they made themselves comfortable on the silk carpet, assuming the exact position Reyna found him in, the elf interlaced their fingers and rested their hands on his lap. "I suppose one could also pray to nature, as do orcs, although I haven't heard of my kind practising that."

"I'd like to pray for Kaya, to put in a good word for her, so she can rest easily," she breathed out quickly, almost cutting him short. When his expression fell, she rapidly added: "Unless that's not how it works, then—"

"No, it's just— it's very thoughtful of you," he smiled, and Reyna breathed a sigh of relief. "If you wish, you may repeat after me, but it’s not necessary since you may find it challenging to pronounce certain words.”

“I’ll try,” she nodded and took a deep breath. As soon as Tyril noticed her shoulders relax, he began reciting the prayer, slowly, pronouncing the words clearly, giving her time to repeat. 

“Alcarvalda nostar, varyando o in nór nosyë, iqulmë lissë an vilissë o Kaya Duskraven. Cé pataro imbi eleni, nínion ‘nin gwannad lîn. Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath.”

As he finished, the elf stroked her knuckles softly, observing her carefully. Reyna was on edge, that was clear, although he could not figure out the exact reason—however, as tears spilled from her tightly shut eyes, he intervened, closing her in an embrace.

"Do you think she rests in peace? That Xenia's deed hadn't influenced her eternal rest?"

"I believe our Gods are omniscient and just, and as they welcomed Kaya, they saw her for the wonderful person she was before her life was stolen from her."

She hummed in response. They stayed like this for several minutes until Reyna’s breath evened out, and a yawn slipped past her lips. Tyril helped her climb onto the mattress and lulled her to sleep, just the night before, telling her a story of Undermount society’s attempts to open the city to the world. "Thank you," she whispered. “I— The prayer did bring me some comfort.”

Two hours. It took only two hours for Reyna to wake up again. She sat up straight, her skin blanketed with sweat. Tyril stroked her back through the damp gown as she took deep breaths to compose herself. 

"It's alright," he comforted repeatedly, allowing her to rest on his chest and cry out all the emotions bothering her at that moment. 

But it wasn't alright. At that moment, Reyna could not remember the nightmare that caused her to wake up drenched in sweat and with a plea on her lips, but she felt utterly devastated and powerless, and no amount of consolation was able to calm her down. Her heart would not stop pounding against her ribcage as tears would not stop flowing down her cheeks, and the terror she awakened to deftly transfigured into suffocating panic that immediately alerted the elf. 

Fixing their position so that they were sitting facing each other, Tyril's palms cradled her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Reyna, focus on me, alright? Breathe with me, take as long and deep breaths as you can, and hold it in for five seconds," he instructed, feeling his equilibrium wane as the woman before him struggled to settle her nerves. The calming spell was ready to roll from the tip of his tongue when at last Reyna took a deep, shaky breath. 

He counted down the seconds out loud for her, time after time, until her muscles relaxed, and the body became heavy in his hands. The back of his hand wiped the drops of sweat off her forehead as he laid her down, back to the same position she woke up in, and kissed her cold temple, pressing his lips for several long seconds.

She hadn't slept well the night before, and that night would probably be no different. Rubbing her back up and down, he proposed to tell her another story, in a poor attempt to help her fall asleep. 

"Just hold me, please,” she pleaded. And as a devout worshipper, Tyril held her, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, although his heart ached seeing his partner in pain. 

"Are you asleep?" 

Startled, Tyril blinked repeatedly to rid his eyes of the remainder of sleep. "No." 

“I want to cut my hair.”

The elf’s brows furrowed in confusion, his gaze focusing on the pendulum clock on the far side of the room. “Now? It’s three in the morning.”

“I need a change, and my hair reminds me of what—” she held her tongue. “Will you help me or not?”

Rubbing off the blur in his eyes, Tyril rolled off the bed and approached the mirror she was sitting in front of.

"Are you certain?"

"Just do it."

Visibly unstrung and beaded with sweat, Reyna sat facing the vanity mirror, holding back tears. Unconvinced, he took his own sword from her hand and gripped the hilt tightly. Several seconds and one skilful swish of the sword later, inches of her dark locks hit the floor silently. Holding her blurry gaze in the reflection, Tyril inquired further.

“Calanín, what’s troubling you?”

Reyna dismissed his worry with a shake of her head and made her way to the en-suite bathroom. “Sorry for waking you up,” she added before disappearing into the dimly lit room. The last sound he had heard before drifting off to a turbulent sleep was that of Reyna climbing into the ornate bath. 

As the full moon gave way to the sun, coolness to sparkling dew and thin fog, the couple set out to meet their friends, shyly setting out on a new adventure, leaving the turbulent night but a memory. 

[ladylamrian]

✨️ Kit meets Rook ✨️

Female Main Character: Alexis Clarissa Fontaine (Nightbound) & Astrid (Blades of Light and Shadow)

Characters: Nik Ryder, Mal Volari, Tyril Starfury, Imtura, Nia Ellarious, Vera Reimonenq, Katherine, Cal Lowell, Threep, ...

Pairings: F!MC×NikRyder & F!MC×MalVolari

Summary: Astrid accidentally opened the wrong portal.

Word Count: 3.2K words

Rating: Teen (Magic, Adventure, Friendship, Fluff)

Warnings: none, just a small fighting scene

-> My complete Masterlist here <-

Taglist: @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @peonierose ; @secretaryunpaid ; @jdstar88 ; @blackcatkita ; @lilyoffandoms ; @liviusofpella ; @mxdanni ; @mariemarieohcontrary ; @tessa-liam ; @choicesficwriterscreations ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @rosepetals1 ; @stars-are-within-me ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @thosehallowedhalls ; @artbyalz ; @choicesficwriterscreations

Some parts grammar checked by @lilyoffandoms

Comments via Reblog wholeheartly welcome

Author's note: The tiny story takes place after Nightbound and Blades of Light & Shadow Book 1. Special thanks to @chanceisagoodboy for the inspiration and idea ✨️

New Orleans always looked beautiful at night. Shops, restaurants, bars and dance pools were gleaming with bright colors and lights. But in the middle of an abandoned alley, near the street, where no one else was there, something mysterious happened. Air was filled with magic. The weather changed within seconds. The clear night sky turned into a thundery scene as rain fell down the earth and thunderbolts flashed above. But there was something else, something strange and unusual. A mysterious vortex appeared which tossed six strange figures outside. And then... it closed. The six beings remained.

"Ouch, what an uncomfortable landing!!", a lady in a gown commented as she was lying with her companions on the ground. She focused her lavender-colored eyes on her surroundings and wondered where they got.

"Well done, kit. Now care to explain where you transported us, because this doesn't look like Whitetower.", a young man with brown, shoulder-length locks and a light beard spoke. He discovered his two daggers, Stabby & Stabby Junior lying in front of him as he crashed on the ground, so he quickly picked his loyal weapons up and stashed them back inside.

"A powerful and wise never like me doesn't deserve to be lying on the dirty floor and get treated like this.", Threep, the bat-winged cat hissed. As the cat saw how everyone finally stood up from the ground, he fluttered its wings and landed on Astrid's shoulder. His cat eyes fixed on her, waiting for an answer.

"I'm so sorry for the hard landing, Threep. I didn't know it would be like this."

"Hmmph."

"Threep, will you please forgive your Astrid?"

"I suppose a snack wouldn't hurt to make it up for you, dear realmwalker.", he meowed and played around with her blonde braids like a playful kitten which made her giggle.

"Sure, Threep. But first, we have to figure out where we landed. This world looks so weird.", Astrid's blue eyes scanned the surroundings in the dark with the help of her night-vision ability.

All around them were humans. No elf and no orc. They were all dressed in a diffrent style which neither Astrid nor her friends understood. Not only this, strange machinery drove by in which humans were sitting, but there were no horses that pulled them. They moved on their own. Colorful lights are everywhere on the street. Was it magic?

"What strange world is that? Where did you bring us, Astrid?", Tyril asked.

"I don't know, but looks all so new and interesting which got me curious... Let's explore and begin a new adventure!!", she announced with confidence.

"Astrid, I don't know. It could be dangerous. We don't know anything."

"Come on, priestess. Be a little more active and open to the world. We pirates explore new places and find treasures.", Imtura agreed with Astrid.

"Imtura's right! Who knows what shiny treasures and gold we'll find."

"Can't you just NOT think about gold for once, treasure hunter. I have to agree with Nia. It could be dangerous. We don't know anything."

"Three against two, elf boy."

"Excuse me, I would like to be included with my opinion top. I'm with Nia and Tyril, because I want to go home. My warm food is waiting for me.", the nesper licked his palm with attitude.

"So it's three against three. We have a tie. This means we'll explore a little and then we'll go back home. Do you all agree with me?"

"Yes Astrid, that's fair! I just hope you know how to open the right portal which leads us back home.", Nia Ellarious, the priestess agreed, along with everyone else.

"Honestly, I'm still learning my powers. I seriously didn't thought this would happen, but I promise that I'll do better. We'll find a way to get back home!!", Astrid, the realwalker assured her friends.

The group of friends walked through the bustling streets of the unknown place and every time surprised as they made a new discovery. There were small, shining figures in green and red which signaled the humans when to cross the streets and when to stop. These secured the safety of both, the walking humans and the ones who were sitting in these strange, horse-less machineries. Was this magic?

"Hey, why are some humans looking at us like this and then laughing? Are they making fun of us? Maybe because we're dressed differently or...?", Nia asked with concern.

"Yeah, it's like they never saw an orc!"

"Or a noble elf like me. I feel that we're being watched and I do not like this, my dear friends. I told you before too, that it could be dangerous here.", Tyril agreed with Imtura.

Not far from them, a group of youngsters were enjoying themselves. One even held a small, metallic device that flashed like lightning. Out of curiosity, Mal moved closer to the group to take a closer while remaining hidden in the shadows. It turned out that the group of young people now could see a picture of them in that pose when that mysterious device flashed at them. It's like watching a portrait of them that just got painted by the flashing light.

"How can they still be here standing in front of me and also being captured in that small device at the same time?", Mal thought and immediately left, because he didn't want to accidentally get captured in an item.

He quickly joined his friends in a more quiet place, but was shocked as he saw them facing a very familiar figure.

"Well, well, well, who do we have here? How interesting! Humans, along with an elf and an orc. These two might fit well into my collection", the mysterious woman in black smirked. Behind her were standing tough, muscular men who looked dangerous.

"Uhh, who are you? What collection?"

"Oh, dear. You don't know me? Everyone knows who I am. Would your elf friend and orc friend be interested in joining my secret fighting ring under Club Persephone? Elf versus Orc. That would create a huge audience and a lot of money.", she answered Astrid's questions while pressing her face with her gloved hand as she moved closer towards her.

"Hey!!! Let Astrid go!!!", Mal shouted at the woman. He grabbed Astrid's arm and pulled her protectively closer to him till their bodies pressed each other.

"Mal, I'm fine. Don't worry, I can handle it.", she showed strength, but also gratitude towards her caring lover. They glanced at each other with full affection and love until their attention turned towards their friends and the mysterious woman.

"Oh, so you're a couple? You two remind me of that annoying hunter and his fairy girlfriend. You disgust me."

"Leave us alone, thief master.", Mal warned her which made her even more angry while the friends were surprised.

"Mal, you know that woman?", Imtura asked.

"Thief master??? You dared to call me, a thief?!! I am the Lady Smoke!!! The most powerful woman and most dangerous murder mob boss of New Orleans??!", she unleashed her anger, and finally removed her glove, revealing her palm which showed black, poisonous veins. The whole crew was shocked at the discovery. While the lady in black moved her hand towards Astrid and Mal, her muscular men grabbed the rest of them.

"Let go!!! Don't hurt my friends.", Nia shouted.

"I'll show you the strength of an orc, you rats.", the orc hissed.

"Threep, is that woman corrupted or why does she have these black veins?", Tyril asked while fighting one of the goons.

"No, it's something else.", he meowed as he tried to free Nia, the priestess. The nesper began attacking the enemies with his sharp claws.

The whole situation turned into a fighting scene. Mal tried to protect Astrid, and she tried to protect him, as they switched back and forth. Trying to protect each other.

"Astrid, I'll handle.", he grabbed his two daggers and got into a fighting position.

"Mal, I can do it. Let me use my powers."

"But..."

"Ssshhhh, I'll be safe. Don't worry, love."

"But I'll..."

BANG

Before Mal could say more, a bright light appeared out of nowhere which illuminated their whole surroundings. It took everyone a little time to adjust. They shielded their eyes from the light which was so bright. When the light faded, they slowly opened their eyes. There was a mysterious young man in a leather coat facing them, holding a crossbow in his hands. It was the holy light arrow he just shot, which caused the bright light. The arrow landed on the ground near Lady Smoke and her goons as a warning and not to injure them.

"Let them go, Smoke!", he warned her.

"And if I don't?"

"Don't make a fuzz of this, Tonya. Just let them go and everyone will be happy."

"Mind your own business, nighthunter."

"Heyyy!!! Nobody speaks to my partner like this!!", a silvery-black-haired woman appeared next to the mysterious man.

Nik smirked as she called him her partner and wrapped his free arm around her waist.

"My rook."

"Oh, so the couple is here together now. Solo suited you better, Nik Ryder", Tonya mocked.

"Shut up, Smoke!! And let these innocent people go."

While Tonya was focused on Nik and his girlfriend, Astrid used her skills to free her friends. Time for the Seduction Skill!! She swayed her hips and leaned closer towards a man who held one of her friends captured. Mal was surprised at her sudden move.

"Hello, strong man.", she winked at one of them.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You're very strong and look at your muscles.", she traced a finger on the stranger's arm who suddenly felt attracted to her. The rest of them wanted that too now.

Mal definitely didn't like it even though, she used her seduction skills several times and it helped. But this time was different. They were nasty men who could hurt her and were now hungrily staring at her. Mal had to do something.

"Hey Astrid, you haven't seen my muscles yet. Let me use them to smash those bastards.", Mal got jealous. Astrid's eyes were still on the men.

"Oh yes, Mal is right. You guys have muscles, but use them for what??!! To serve an unthankful woman. I definitely would value your hard work and loyalty. All of you.", the braided blonde played with her lashes which made the men loosen their grips.

And with that, Tyril, Imtura, Threep and Nia managed to free themselves and began fighting. Even Astrid now used her combat skill and threw a few punches at the men, while Tyril, Imtura and Mal used their weapons. Threep supported the priestess to defend everyone.

"How dare you treat a legendary and wise nesper like that??", he hissed and used his cat claws to hurt the enemies.

"Watch out!!!", the silvery-haired girl shouted and blasted a flame of light towards a goon who was about to hit Astrid from behind. The bad guy couldn't harm her now, fell backward, and then fainted.

"Thanks!!", Astrid shouted towards her and continued her battle.

Tonya Reimonenq noticed that her men couldn't win, especially against a strong orc like Imtura. So she demanded her men to retreat, getting back to her Club.

"I'll be back. You haven't heard the last from me, Ryder.", she swore revenge, quickly stepped inside her limousine and commanded her driver to escape.

"Phewww, she and her men are gone.", Nia got relieved when Lady Smoke and her goons were finally gone.

"I knew it!! An unknown world could be dangerous."

"I know, Tyril. You were right, but I'm glad we got rid of them. And these two helped us.", Astrid turned her attention towards the couple in front of them. The two stepped closer to the group.

"Damn, didn't know you guys would handle it on your own. I'm impressed. At least some people don't need to be protected which makes my work easier. And you did a great job too, rook.", Nik praised everyone.

"Awwww, thanks.", she got delighted, stood on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Then she stepped closer to the group to introduce herself and Nik. They shook each other's hands.

"Nice to meet you, Alex. I'm Astrid. These are my friends, Imtura, Nia, Tyril, Mal and Threep."

"Awwww, Threep is soooo cute!!!! Eeeeeeekkk...", she admired the little, winged cat and wanted to cuddle it.

"Pardon me, but I need my personal space. No cuddles when I'm hungry, milady."

"You can talk??!!"

"Of course. I'm a very wise nesper who has to confess my hunger and speaks wise words."

"Awwww, poor kitty. You must be so hungry. Let's get you some food, huh? Garrus's bar isn't far away, he'll serve you food and I'll feed you as much as you want.", Alex picked Threep up from the ground and held it like a baby in her arms, gazing sweetfully at him.

This time the nesper didn't complain because he was ready to get treated like he always wanted to.

"What's a bar?", one of the friends asked.

"Uhhh, it's where you drink? You guys never went to a bar? My friend, Garrus serves non-alcoholic drinks too if you want.", Nik informed.

"Ooooh, so it's a tavern. Then let's go!! I could use some refreshment.", Mal immediately agreed.

"Threep, meet Tinkerbell. Tinkerbell, meet Threep.", Alex tried to introduce Threep and her pet with each other.

"Is that a kricken? But what is it doing here?", Nia asked and petted the pet.

"A kricken? It's a perrikin."

"Oh, I see. In our realm it's called a kricken."

"Oh, so you're from another realm?", Alex asked with curiousity.

Nik, Alex and Astrid's crew were now sitting in Garrus's bar, called The Graveyard Shift along with some more friends. Each of them was getting along with another very well and was having a great time.

"So you're a nighthunter who hunts evil creatures and beings at night?", Mal was talking with Nik.

"Not only do I hunt. I make sure that both sides of the world, the World of Day and World of Night are save and secure against the evil. So yes, I'm a professional nighthunter. And you are...?"

"A thief. A professional thief.", Mal grinned, raising his arm to show Nik what he was holding.

"Hey, is that... My wallet?!! How the hell did you...??"

"Don't forget to look after yourself too while protecting the world, nighthunter.", Mal mischievously smiled and returned Nik's belongings back to him.

"Hmm... I like you already, thief. You're not bad actually. I'm impressed by your skills... And I like your shiny daggers."

"Thanks, Nik. My daggers are my tiny babies. But you're very skilled too."

Not far away, Katherine and Imtura were laughing together.

"Woah, really?!!! Could you teach me how to throw axes? It could come in handy for me while hunting."

"Now that's what I call a strong woman!! You may not be an orc or strong like me, but you have the spirit. I'll definitely teach you that, Katherine."

"Thanks, new bestie.", Katherine high-fived with Imtura.

Nia Ellarious and Vera Reimonenq enjoyed each other's presence while having conversations and drinking warm lemon tea together. Both admired each other's outfits and figured that they had a few things in common.

"So that dangerous woman we met before was your mother?"

"Yes, but I'm not like her. Don't worry."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of you. I can sense that you're a sweet and pure person. Besides, I also had the similar experience. I looked up to the Light court, but they were not like I expected them to be. I may belong to them as a priestess, but I can still be different and choose the path I want to. The path of harmony.", she explained to Vera and both sweetly smiled at each other with affection.

"Wait, you're her child?? That means she can't be the person I thought she was. She looks exactly like the thiefmaster.", Mal passed by as he overheard Nia and Vera after finishing his conversation with Nik.

"The thiefmaster?", Nia asked him.

"Oh, never mind. Forget it, priestess.", Mal tried to avoid the topic and decided to look for Astrid.

"Is that a fae??", Tyril got shocked as he saw Garrus passing by with a tray of drinks. The fae was too busy with work and serving customers to notice Tyril, the elf. Then Cal answered him.

"Yes, that's Garrus. He's a fae. And the silvery-haired girl you met earlier, she's a half-fae. Are you a fae too?"

"A half-fae, how rare and astonishing!! And no, I'm no fae. I may have pointy ears too, but they are longer. I'm an elf. Tyril, House of Starfury."

"Oh, a noble?"

"It's complicated. My sister takes care of House Starfury now. I don't feel like I belong with the rest of the noble elves."

"Hey, I know what you mean. I also feel like I don't belong to my pack anymore. I'm a werewolf, but I'm not like them. An outsider. I'm different, but I feel proud of it. By the way, my name is Cal. Cal Lowell.", he extended his hand forward and Tyril accepted to shake it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Cal."

Later, Mal finally found Astrid in the corner of the room who was talking with the silvery-black haired woman from before.

"Hey, kit."

"Hey, rook."

Nik and Mal greeted their own girlfriends at the same time when they appeared. Both were surprised. They stared at each other open-mouthed for a while before turning their attention back to their partners. Alex and Astrid began to giggle.

"So Nik calls you rook, Alex?"

"Yup, and you're Mal's kit. Am I right, Astrid? Guess our boys have a few things in common just like the two of us.", she continued laughing with Astrid at the boys.

"Oh Alex, as much as I enjoyed tonight with you and your friends, it's getting late. We must return, but I will never forget tonight. You're my new friend in this weird, but modern world."

"I will miss you too, Astrid. I hope you will visit us again. Threep is so adorable. And next time when you come, you should definitely teach me your seduction skill."

"Oh nooo!!! For god's sake, please don't!!! Enough people are hitting on her already, I don't want her to get started too or get in trouble.", Nik begged the girls who giggled again.

"Awww, Nik. You're my everything. But I could use the seduction skill to convince you whenever we both disagree with each other."

"Oh, so that's your evil plan? How cruel of you, my rook?", he raised his eyebrow, then chuckled.

Then Astrid spoke, promising to teach Alex the seduction skill if she would teach her some magic. Afterall the flame of light which the nighthunter's girlfriend used against Lady Smoke's goons was impressive and could be useful. Maybe Alex could also convince her friendly stepmother, Lady Thalissa to teach both of them. For example, how to open the correct portal.

And with that, it was time for Imtura, Nia, Tyril, Mal, Threep and Astrid to go back to their realm. Back home. This time Astrid opened the right portal. And if not, then they would have landed on their next adventure.

[dutifullynuttywitch]

A thief’s oath

Blades of Light and Shadow

Summary: Takes place after Blades of light and shadow 2. Autumn (MC) and gang have defeated the Ash Empress and merged the kingdoms. Mal wants to take care of his tired kit, so he makes good on his thief’s oath.

Pairings: Mal Volari X MC (Autumn Nightbloom)

Rating: Teen

1600 words

It’d been mere hours since that fateful decision to merge the realms. A cataclysmic change with repercussions they’d only begun to fathom.

Mal gazes out of the Light Army’s command tent, shuddering at the skeletal trees now dotting the green forests and the movements of shadow creatures roaming the landscape. The sky alternates between blue and purplish hues, late afternoon sunlight streaking faintly through rolling storm laden clouds.

Autumn, the Hero of Morella twice over now, had jumped into action, convening the leaders of Whitetower, Undermount, Zaradun, Flotilla, the Goblins and Ashen kingdom to discuss peaceful coexistence. They had been at it for hours, with Tyril, Imtura, Cherta and Willow working to influence their fellow delegates, Nia doing her best to advise king Arlan as Priestess of Light, and Valax mediating with the Ashen lords, all poring over quickly redrawn maps and borders.

“Who do you think you are, you insolent fool, to claim the lands south of Riverbend?!” King Arland glowers at a haughty Ashen lord, face contorted with rage.

Figures, Mal sneers, the powerful squabbling over land and power with complete disregard to us common folk.

At least his kit and their friends were doing everything in their power to do right by the people of the newly merged realm.

His gaze warms as he takes her in. His brilliant, beautiful Autumn. Her brow creases as she works with Valax to mediate between King Arlan and the Ashen Lordling. He notices the dark patches under her eyes. A tired tenseness in her movements.

In two strides he’s at her side, snaking an arm around her waist as he whispers gently in her ear.

“Kit, my love, time for a little break.”

“I can’t. Kindda in the middle of something.” She pecks him on the cheek, making to dive back into the negotiations.

Mal tightens his hold, and she huffs impatiently.

“Mal, we have to figure this out! If we can’t reach compromises, we risk war.. again!”

“I get that, Kit, but we’re talking a complete re-drawing of the world map, the integration of new cities and people… it’s gonna take more than a couple of hours crammed in a tent to figure things out and you all know it. You’ve barely slept over the past few days, and let’s not forget you just fought and vanquished a god. You need a break.”

He kisses lightly behind her ear, his hand moving from her waist to her lower back in soothing circles.

“Plus, I recall taking a thief’s oath a little while back.” He gazes at her, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “And I intend to keep it.”

Her eyes sparkle at the memory of stolen kisses, her body melting in his strong arms.

“Remind me again what that oath was, your magnificence?”

“Well, the first part was to whisk you away. It’ll have to be a temporary escape for now.” He whispers in her ear, nipping at the lobe and trailing soft kisses down the back of her neck.

Autumn flushes at his ministrations, a warmth building in her belly. She relents.

“A short break would be good. Tyril, Imtura, Nia, Valax, you guys fine if we step out for a bit?”

Imtura smirks knowingly at her friend’s flushed complexion. “Go, Autumn, we’ve got this.”

“Aw thanks, Immy, much obliged!” Mal smirks mischievously, wagging his eyebrows. He ducks out as an empty cup flies past his head, Imtura bellowing “I told ya not to call me that, landrat!!”

He takes Autumn's hand, strolling across the camp towards their shared tent.

She breathes in the crisp air, already feeling a little of the tension lift. “Thanks for this, Mal. I didn’t realize how much I needed a breather. Things were getting pretty tense in there.” She sighs wearily. “Honestly this is all a little overwhelming. Give me monsters and bad guys to fight any day, but politics… really not my cup of tea.”

“Hey, you were brilliant in there, Kit. Everyone listens to you, the Hero of the Realms. Don’t you ever doubt yourself.”

She smiles at his fervent tone, giving his hand a grateful squeeze.

“But you can’t always be there for everyone and not take care of yourself. We’ve both learned the hard way that doesn’t do any good…. So… let me take care of you.” He finishes softly.

“Mal, I love you.” She turns to him, her handsome rogue, and pulls him into a soft kiss.

“I love you too, my kit, always.” Mal deepens the kiss, tasting her, hands roaming freely making her gasp.

“Mal, tent. Now. “

He chuckles and leads her faster across the camp, stealing hot kisses along the way.

Soon Mal ushers her into their tent, lighting a few candles before settling onto the bedroll, gently pulling her down next to him.

“Now, about the second part of that oath…”

With a flourish, he produces a bottle of Celestial Vintage.

“… a bottle of the finest wine a man can steal! Swiped it from the tent of a pompous elven lordling.” He winks, flashing her a devilish grin.

She leans in for a kiss, chuckling. “Please tell me it’s the only thing you’ve swiped from our allies? Unless you want to single-handedly derail our peace talks...”

“You know kit, I’m all about redistributing wealth. And I can’t think of anyone more deserving than you.” He purrs against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

“But don’t worry, nothing else of value’s gone missing. Thief’s honor.”

He grins and produces a pair of glasses, pouring them both a generous serving.

Autumn takes a sip, closing her eyes as she marvels at the familiar explosion of taste, the brightness of sunshine blending perfectly with the crispness of snow and sweetness of honey.

“Hmmm… just like that bottle in Undermount.”

She cracks an eyelid to see Mal gazing at her intently, a soft smile lighting his features.

“Our first date.” He leans in to brush his lips against hers, his breath ghosting her cheek.

“Hah! You admit it was a date!” She grins triumphantly, taking another sip of the wonderful nectar, feeling a delicious warmth spreading, slowly melting away some of her weariness.

“Well… yeah, it was most definitely implied.” He chuckles, a little bashful.

“Implied being the key word. Were you, Mal the Magnificent, great adventurer and seducer of countless Contessas, nervous to ask me out?” She bats her eyes sweetly, biting her lower lip to hide a smirk.

“What? No? Never! I just …. Figured I’d play it cool, considering your propensity to flirt with any and every two-legged creature in the realm.” He growls playfully at her, leaning in to steal a heated kiss, savouring the sweet effervescence of wine lingering on her tongue.

She smirks and straddles his hips, earning a satisfying groan.

“Oh, I see. You, my charming. Rakish. Absolute flirt of a rogue. Were worried I’d say no.” She punctuates each sentence with a kiss. “I wonder, my handsome scoundrel, how can I convince you that you’re all I could ever want?”

“Now that’s very easy, kit…” Mal whispers huskily, snaking his arms around her waist and holding her flush, trailing hungry kisses down her neck. “We can start by ridding you of all of these pesky clothes.”

All too soon, Autumn sighs, untangling herself from her lover’s arms, making to return to her duties.

She laughs heartily as she pushes him onto his back, losing herself in her rogue’s embrace.

Mal grabs her waist, tugging her back into a lazy caress. “Wait, kit, rest just a little longer.”

She kisses him softly, settling back into his arms. “You know, we’re really stretching this ‘break’.”

She considers, “You’re right, about these peace talks requiring proper time and patience if we want to get it right. I’ll suggest we relocate to Whitetower Palace for now. We’ll eventually need to travel the realm to help the communities rebuild.”

“I’ll follow you wherever you go, kit. As long as you’ll have me.” He kisses her softly. “Though I am happy we’ll be in Whitetower for a little while. I’ve been wanting to check up on the orphanage, make sure the kids are doing good.”

“Mal, have I told you how proud I am?” She gazes up at him intently. “I’m glad others are now seeing what I always knew about you, that under all this bravado, you’re a pretty honorable man.”

“S’nothing, really,” Mal smiles ruefully, “wanted to do good by you. Also, to give these kids a better life than I had growing up…”

“Just when I thought I couldn’t love you more.” She plants soft kisses along his neck and chest before continuing, a little hesitant. “Actually, we haven’t talked about what we’d do after all this… I was wondering if... if you’d let me help you with the orphanage?”

Mal looks at her in surprise “That’s what you want? To stay in Whitetower?”

“I want to be with you, Mal, and you’ve made a life here with your sister and Vivi, Nia, the kids… I’d love to be part of it. Plus, I’m an orphan too, remember? Kindda invested in helping you give them a better life.” She smiles up at him softly.

For a moment, Mal is speechless. Then he beams with pleasure, pulling her into a searing kiss. “I’d like nothing better, Autumn.”

“Well then that’s settled! Let’s meet up with the others and get about moving our negotiations into Whitetower.” She pushes up, quickly getting dressed.

“But there’s still wine left!” Mal pouts, searching around for his boots.

“To be continued, then.” Autumn smiles wickedly as she saunters out into the darkened camp.

[storyofmychoices]

Shadows of Hope

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!MC) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow II, Chapter 1 Word Count: ~3,000 Rating: Teen to be safe; emotional hurt (I'm sorry!) Warnings: drinking, depression, hints toward suicidal thoughts A/N: I use dialogue and the setting from chapter 1 in the beginning to set the scene, and then incorporate Daenarya's dream with Mal's at the end.

Synopsis: She was there, and then she was gone. Mal would move heaven and earth to bring her back, but what happens when he can't?

"A toast!" Daenarya's smile widened, filling her face as she lifted a glass toward her friends. This new life of hers would take some getting used to, but she couldn't imagine a better group to experience this journey with. "To beating the Dreadlord."

"To green things and fresh air!" Imtura added, grateful to have escaped the Shadow Realm.

"And sunshine," Nia beamed, basking in the glow and safety of the warm sunlight that streamed into the White Tower palace gardens. The priestess of light might not be serving the temple, but she was going to spend her new freedom experiencing all the world had to offer.

Tyril feigned a frown, though his smile was still visible in the corner of his lips, betraying his stoic nature. "This is ridiculous. You may as well toast to the bees."

"Agreed!" Mal cheered, his jovial spirit soaring high. He was damn proud of the man he had become over the last few months and it was this crew that helped him get there. "To the bees. May they teach Tyril to have a better attitude—" 

The Rogue's laughter roared through the gardens as the traveling crew clinked their glasses together. They had done it. They had done the unthinkable. They had not only defeated the Dreadlord and the Shadow Court, but they had traveled to the Shadow Realm and returned, a feat no one had ever done before them. They also rescued Nia, Kade, a second Nespar, and discovered the Blade of Light. 

The group's spirits were high as they enjoyed the jubilant atmosphere. They didn't know what the future held, but they knew whatever it was they were ready. Together.

But that thought barely had time to glimmer to light, before darkness descended, shattering the revelry.

A swirling purple vortex cuts the serene gardens. Soldiers of the Shadow Realm march out. Mal drew his daggers, Tyril his sword, Imtura her axes, and Nia her light. They would fight and win, they had to. 

But then she came. 

The Dark Elf. 

Before anyone could react, she had seized Daenarya, her grip like an iron vice. With a malevolent grin, she dragged her back into the Realm of Shadows. The room fell into stunned silence. The laughter was gone. The drinks were shattered and spilled on the floor. Their weapons remained clutched in their hands, yet she was gone. The portal sealed shut before them, leaving only their memories that she was ever even there. 

His grasp on his daggers tightened, his muscles straining beneath his armor. This couldn't be how it ends. Not like this. Not without her. 

Mal drew in a long, measured breath. His eyes closed as he paused. The world around him stilled in response. The warm sunlight caressed his cheek. He could hear her whispering in his ear as she pressed a kiss there. The soft breeze from the open window carried the fragrant scent of sweet peas, like the ones he brought for her. His grip on his dagger loosened as he felt her hands over his. She was still there. He exhaled slowly, resheathing his weapons. It was only then that he had heard his friends. 

"You okay, Land Rat?" Imtura questioned, concern lacing her words.

"Mal!" Nia cried, her hands on his shoulder, shaking him back to them.

Tyril's hand moved in front of his face, trying to sense if any dark magic lingered on him. 

Mal snapped back into awareness, taking a step back. "What in the three hells is this?"

Nia wrapped her arms around him, her eyes filled with tears. "You're okay." 

"Of course I am," He responded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She took a step back, studying his face. Her gaze shifted to Tyril.

"I sense no darkness or magic," Tyril decided. He rested a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Which part?" His tone was snarky, his smile cocky. "The part where we beat the Dreadlord and were celebrating, or the part where my girlfriend was kidnapped by a dark elf?"

"He's fine!" Imtura slapped him on the back. 

"Fine is a relative term," Tyril added skeptically.

"What's wrong with you, Elf Boy." Mal shook his head, his face twisting in confusion. "We're wasting time. Let's raid the armory again and go rescue Daenarya." He marched forward, pushing past his friends. 

"Mal—"

The way the elf said his name would haunt him in ways he couldn't know yet. It was soft. It was pained. It was broken.

"The portal's closed," Tyril explained. "We have no means of opening it again." 

"We have to try," Mal demanded. 

"I'm not saying we won't, but it won't be easy."

"Nothing ever is."

"I know." Tyril's reassuring hand was there on his shoulder again. It was heavier now. "We will not rest until we have rescued her, but rushing into things won't help. We need a plan. We need to research."

"I'm not going to stand here while Daenarya is being tortured and having gods knows what done to her." He pulled his shoulder away. "We are getting her back. One way or another. We are getting her back."

"Aye!" Imtura agreed. "I'm with the land rat."

"Me too," Nia added. "Daenarya risked her life to save mine. I owe her everything."

"Obviously, I am in, as well. It will be a challenge, but one I would be honored to accept with the three of you." 

Mal nodded at his crew. "Then, it's decided. We rescue Daenarya."

"We should check the royal records and library for any information about realm crossing," Tyril offered. 

"I'll check with the temple to see if there is any light magic or rituals that might be of assistance," Nia suggested.

"That leaves you and me, Princess—" Mal's smirk grew as his hope rose. "Weapons and armor. We will need all the tactical help we can get." 

"My kind of duty!" Imtura nodded, giving him a one-time pass on the Princess comment. 

Mal held his head high as they each went off to their tasks. Daenarya wasn't lost to the shadows, not with them readying to rescue her. 

Hours turned into days. 

Days turned into weeks. 

Every lead they found led to failure. 

One defeat after another, smothering their hope a little more with each failed attempt. The once bright light filling their eyes had dulled. Dark circles hung beneath their weary gaze. Lines of exhaustion dug creases across their faces. 

Day after day, week after week, they worked tirelessly to save her, but now it was physically killing them.

Emotionally, they were no better. They were unraveling—fast. The spark of optimism that once fueled their determination now flickered like a dying ember. Frustration lurked beneath the surface. Mal found himself snapping at Imtura over the smallest things, their camaraderie strained by the constant setbacks. Nia, usually a calming presence, had her patience tested as she argued with Tyril over their research and what powers they could harness from the light. 

With each passing day, the bonds that held them together grew more fragile without her. She was the glue that brought them together, and without her... without her, they were just 3 very different people with a common memory.

In the dimly lit room where they gathered to discuss their most recent findings, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken tension. Mal's jaw clenched as he glanced at Tyril's furrowed brow, and the elf's narrowed gaze showed his growing impatience for the human. Imtura, once the heart of their humor, now responded to jests with a forced smile that failed to reach her eyes. Nia struggled to keep her voice steady as she raised concerns about their dwindling options.

Weeks turned into hopeless months.

The weight of their mission pressed down on them like a relentless storm. It tore them apart until all that remained was the fragments of a group that once was celebrated, but was now pitied and avoided at all costs. 

Mal's gaze darkened, and he snapped at everyone at any word. Nothing was enough. Nothing was right. Nothing was his way. But most of all, nothing brought her back. His burning rage consumed him. He lashed out at his friends who tried to console him, his once-charming demeanor replaced by a bitter and resentful man.

"I shouldn't have ever let Kit convince me friends are anything more than a liability," Mal snapped. "You lot couldn't save yourselves. How could I rely on you? I'll save Daenarya myself." 

The rage in Imtura grew; she drew her ax as he walked away. Her grip on her weapon tightened. No human would speak to her like that and draw another breath.

Tyril stood in her path, a somber expression on his face. He shook her head. "Let him go. He's lost more than the rest of us."

The remaining three agreed to go their separate ways. They'd never give up on trying to rescue her—Daenarya was strong; if anyone could survive the Shadow Realm, it was her. The knowledge brought little comfort. 

As he walked the cold streets of White Tower alone, his gaze fell upon the disgraced temple of light. His jaw clenched as he remembered what he had seen the last time he stepped foot in there. Yet, his feet carried him toward the glimmering building's white steps. He climbed the stairs, one reluctant step after another. Mal had never been a religious man, but he had tried everything else. He promised her he'd try everything, so that meant this as well. 

He fell to his knees at the altar, begging the gods of old, new, and anyone listening to save her. He offered everything he could think of, anything he could use to bargain with them. His soul and his life were among the last. His life didn't matter, hers did. She saved the realm; she got a rag-tag group of misfits to work together. It wasn't them; it was her. Let him be damned but bring her back. Only silence filled the room in response. 

Mal traveled the kingdoms, searching for any religion to turn to, anything to breathe life into the embers of hope that vaguely glowed within him. Without hope, he knew there would be nothing left of him. 

He dragged himself back to the Temple of Ellara, where their journey first began. He fell beneath the statue of Ittar and Bakshi, the two souls that formed one god. The lovers. If anyone would take pity on him, it was them. He cried out, begging and pleading for refuge. The only response was the sound of his sobs echoing in the hallowed halls. 

He was alone.

Daenarya had been taken.

He had pushed his friends away.

The gods had failed him. 

He was alone.

He should have been used to it. Gods know he had spent his life with that feeling, yet this time was different. This time was heavier. Because this time, he knew what it was like to have a family. This time, he knew what love felt like. This time, he knew how it felt to have hope, to trust in a future that might be okay, and to lose it all.

Now, he was alone, and there was no escape from the pit of despair he found himself in.

He didn't remember how he got there. He didn't know how long it had been. All he knew was he was back. Perhaps it was where he was always meant to end up.

Mal retreated into the shadows, seeking solace in the dark, forgotten streets of White Tower. It was a place where no one remembered your name, where he could be as lost as he felt inside. His despair was a suffocating weight, threatening to consume him entirely.

"I tried, Mom," he whispered as he leaned against her grave, a bottle of liquor in his hand. "I tried," he repeated, drinking the remaining liquid. 

His fingers massaged one scar after another. Some were new, most old, and some had even been forgotten. But that was then. That was when she was there to listen to every story, hold his every pain, and share the burdens that shadowed his past. Without her, the pain returned. Every pain he had ever felt, all at once. It was suffocating. It was all-consuming.

"I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to her grave and dragged himself back toward the abandoned building he had been squatting in. His steps were weak as he shuffled down the streets. Every muscle in his body ached. His weathered skin and sunken features made the once infamous White Tower reaper unrecognizable. People scurried in the shadows to avoid passing him. No one dared approach him for fear of what he had become.

With another bottle in hand, he entered a dilapidated building. Forgotten and abandoned, the place reflected his own broken spirit. He collapsed on the floor of his new "home". He couldn't stop the chuckle growing at the word. She was home, but she took it with her, and she was gone. 

He held his dagger in his hands. A beam of moonlight slipping through one of the many holes in the structure glinted on its surface. Was tonight the night? Was this the end? 

His heavy eyes fought to close, his body desperate for sleep. He refused to let himself fall. Sleep meant dreams and, in his case, nightmares. Or, on the rare occasion that nightmares didn't consume him, he was left with only a dark purple vortex, sucking out the last of his life force. There was such little left to give. 

The bottle fell from his grasp, the liquid spilling on the floor as sleep overtook him. Instead of being greeted by the monsters and darkness that had become his only companions, he found her. She was beautiful. Just as she remembered. Her smile stirred the forgotten embers of hope that lingered deep within him. 

His body trembled at the thought of her. He smiled weakly, nervous and uncertain. "What does this mean?" 

Her fingers attempted to thread through his once luscious locks, now dirtied and tangled. Her gaze was soft as she spoke. "It means you can open that orphanage we dreamed of."

His eyes filled with unshed tears. He had forgotten about their dream. The night they had celebrated their victory, the promises they made to one another. "It would be nice to give poor kids a better life than I had. Make it so they don't have to steal to survive."

She nodded, her face beaming with pride. "It's a worthy goal. One might even say a noble one."

"Please. Anything but that." He was far from noble. He was one step above the shadow court themselves. Darkness had consumed almost every part of him.

"And Mal, my Magnificent Rogue, I promise you, no matter what... we'll be together again," her voice was a whisper in his ear—the warmth of her breath a welcomed old friend. 

"Just try not to lead me on any wild goose chases, Kit," he teased, forgetting himself. "You know how Elf Boy feels about geese." His voice was light, and laughter rumbled on his lips for the first time since she was taken. 

Mal leaned in, closing the gap between them. His lips brushed over hers, sparking the flames of hope inside him once more. His body filled with warmth. 

"And you know—" He continued. "I will always find you." 

As he reached to embrace her once more, the vision faded away, leaving him once more surrounded by darkness. He reached for the fallen bottle. Whatever remained at the bottom was better than nothing. 

His hand hovered over the glass container, something stopping him. Her words echoed in his ear. 

We'll be together again. 

Hope. 

For the first time in a long time, he had hope. 

He wanted to believe he could find her still, but he knew he had no other paths to exhaust. So he would do the one thing he knew would keep her alive. Make their dream a reality. He would build their orphanage. He would save the children of White Tower from the fate he and Daenarya had suffered. He would build a better future from the ashes of the world that had forgotten them. 

His hope turned to determination. If he was going to remain in this world without Daenarya, he would make it better—a world deserving of someone as kind and brilliant as her.

Moment by moment, day by day he poured his grief and his love into that building. It became a testament to his devotion to the woman who had made him a better man. 

With each nail he drove into the walls, and with every floorboard he replaced, he whispered her name. He imagined her smile, her laughter, and the dreams they had shared. It was as if she was there with him, guiding his hands. He could still hear her whispering his name beside him.

Sooner than he could have imagined, in the heart of the slums of White Tower, a run-down, forgotten building transformed into a home. Their home, if only in spirit. Though quiet now, soon, he hoped, the rooms would teem with laughter and light-hearted squabbles of children he could rescue in his orphanage. The place would be one of love and hope. He would tell stories of the woman who saved the realm and who saved him in doing so. He would make sure her light lived on in this realm. If anyone deserved to be remembered, it was her. 

"For you," he whispered as his fingers ran over the sign reading "Mal's Orphanage". Beneath the name, in smaller lettering, read "no longer forgotten". He wouldn't forget her. He wouldn't forget the man he became because of her, and most of all, he would make sure the children he rescued were never forgotten. He would show them a better life, a beautiful life filled with the most powerful magic he had ever learned from Daenarya—love and hope. With those two things, the world would never descend to darkness again. 

A/N #2: This is not edited, my heart broke writing it and I can't bear to read it back right now. I hope you enjoy it, despite how painful it is. My heart is absolutely broken from the first chapter back. Mal's struggle with his grief as he goes through the stages.

I'm going to create a new masterlist for Blades 2 because I'm going to keep my orphanage as my personal canon timeline from Book One. Book 2 stories will be an AU. I know that makes no sense, but to me, my orphanage will always be my personal favorite place and my canon.

[petalouda85]

Promise

Fandom: Blades of Light and Shadow 2

Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Kassandra)

Word count: 3.4k

AO3 link: x

Concept: victory over the Ash Empress quickly turns to tragedy. Tw: character death, use of alcohol to cope with grief, s**cidal thoughts

Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations, @liviusofpella, @starlight-starfury, @megas-choices

A/N: not the fic I thought I’d finish first after Book 2 ended but I also wouldn’t be me if I didn’t write something absolutely heart wrenching once in a while. Rest assured, next fic will be a lot happier.

In case it was missed: TW for character death, alcohol use to cope with grief and s**cidal thoughts. If these make you uncomfortable, feel free to skip; I understand that these can be difficult topics for people.

When Tyril opened his eyes, he winced, the bright sky and sun causing the ache in his head to pulse more strongly. He covered his eyes but smiled ever so slightly; he had not not expected to see those beacons of hope above him. Throughout the battle, the Ash Empress had cast a dark cloud overhead, frightening the warriors of Morella and spurring on the Ashen army. It had flickered in and out of existence as she was attacked and retaliated but with one burst of power, the darkness seemed permanent. But the dark blanket was now gone without a trace.

Upon adjusting, he sat up, looking out over the wide expanse of the battle field, a small smile quirking at his lips.

The Ashen soldiers were scattering, running through the portal back to the Shadow Realm while the Elves, Goblins and Dwarves spurred them on.

As the last of the Ashen disappeared, a deafening silence fell over the battlefield, only the screeches and caws of the ravens and crows above breaking the silence.

He spotted a figure dressed in priestly robes lying in the grass nearby, slowly getting up and clasping at her head, blood streaming down her face.

“Nia.” He whispered, quickly dashing to her and dropping to his knees, examining the wound, a deep gash above her eyebrow. Nia looked at him with weary and dazed eyes.

“I’m alright, Tyril.” She said assuringly. “I just bumped my head.” He quickly held his hand over her cut, the skin closing underneath his magic.

“That’s better.” Nia gave a faint smile.

“Thank you. Where are the others?” She quickly asked.

“Alright, up you get.” Tyril turned his head in the direction of Imtura’s voice. She was not too far away, sporting many cuts on her arms and a few on her face. She had swung Mal’s arm over her shoulder and helped him stand up, which is when the elf spied the rogue’s broken leg. Slowly, the two made their way over to the elf and priestess, relieved smiles on their faces.

“Hey elf boy, priestess. Glad to see you still among the land of the living.” Mal smirked but his jovial expression immediately fell. “Where’s Kassandra?”

Tyril’s head snapped to attention, turning to the last spot he had seen her, the images he saw before being knocked out flashing before his eyes. The golden armor dulled, hands grasped onto the Empress’ face, an impossible stream of Light emanating from them, face twisted in pain and determination as the Empress’ hand smashed past the armor and into her chest before an explosion of Light had blinded and thrown him and the others back, his vision going black moments later.

In the same space was now a spot of black charred grass, a pile of ash gradually blowing away with the wind, and laying nearby, face down in the grass, was a body encased in gold armor, unmoving.

“No.” He muttered desperately, struggling to remain on his feet as he ran to the body, his chest filling with dread. “No. Please. Not like this.” He fell to his knees adjacent to it and turned it over, the sight making him gasp.

Kassandra’s face was marred with cuts and bruises, a trail of blood trickling out the corner of her mouth. Her hair was matted with blood and dirt. The runes on her armor had faded, the enchantment gone with them, and a hole where the Ash Empress had dug her claws in was left behind, blood and Shadow rot dripping out from the gaping wound on her chest.

“NIA!” He cried, finding the Priestess already running towards them, the others in tow. Nia dropped to her knees and immediately, her hands began to glow with healing light. But the blood didn’t stop flowing, the Shadow still permeating. Tears formed in the Priestess’ eyes.

“It’s not working.”

Tyril placed his hand over the wound, concentrating and willing the wounds to be healed but they remained.

“No. Why is it not working?” He whispered.

“It must be the Empress’ doing. It must be.” Nia wept, holding her hand desperately over the wound once more. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, Tyril sensing a magical but invisible energy surround them. She concentrated and concentrated, her jaw tight, her teeth grinding but the wound remained unchanged. She released the magic, a tear running down her face.

“No.” She whispered, shakily placing her hand to Kassandra’s throat. Immediately, Nia’s eyes widened. “Kassandra?” She gasped. Ever so slowly, Kassandra’s eyes opened, her gaze soft but unfocused.

“Kassandra?” Tyril whispered, cupping her cheek with his own bloodied hand.

“Tyril?” Kassandra’s voice was soft and weak. She turned her head to face him, though her gaze remained unfocused. “Is that you?” He nodded fervently.

“Yes. I’m here. We all are.” Gently, he lifted her up, supporting her head in the crook of his elbow so she could see their companions stand by her. Injured but alive. She smiled weakly at them.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Kit.” Mal teased, leaning heavily on Imtura. “How you holding up?" Kassandra looked down at the hole in her chest.

"I've had worse." She joked, a few snickers emanating through the group. She looked up at the sky, seemingly surprised to see the blue color. “Is it over?” Tyril nodded.

“It’s over. You did it, Kassandra. You won.” She looked at him and smiled.

“No. We won.” The elation on her face quickly faded. “The barrier… I can’t close it. And Valax can’t close it alone. The world will stay as it is.” She lifted her bloodied hand, gazing at it before looking once more at the hole in her chest. She let out a breath, leaning her head into his chest before letting out a small sob. “I wish I was in Undermount.” She wept softly. “I would’ve loved to have seen it one last time.” Tears forming in his eyes, Tyril gently turned her face so she looked at him again, forcing a calm face for her sake.

“Then let’s imagine it. Let’s imagine our return to Undermount.” She looked up to the blue sky, briefly closing her eyes as the sun’s warm beams shined down on her wan face.

“I think it would be a warmer welcome this time. No trouble at the gate and the streets flocked with elves wanting to see the heroes of Morella. We’d push through the crowd to your home. It’s restored and renewed, shining in the light. Beautiful.” She smiled faintly at the image as she struggled to take a deep breath. “Your father and sister at the door. Adrina would hug us and she’d tease you so much.” The thought made Tyril chuckle.

“Relentlessly.” He caressed her cheek, her skin cold and clammy. “I’d take you to the Masquerade and I’d dance all night with you.”

“And kiss me on the floor?” He nodded.

“And declare you my Dinvalir and Kilvalir. The scandal we’d cause.” She giggled at the thought, her smile still so beautiful.

“And drink honey wine?”

“So much that we’d make Threep jealous.”

“Not that difficult to do.” She chuckled though a tear ran down her cheek. The light mood quickly became heavy once more. “You have to keep going. You all do.” He shook his head, tears finally rolling out of his eyes.

“I can’t do it without you.” He said, his voice shaking. The year she had been gone was torture for him. There had been days where he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, her absence having left a dark void in his heart and mind. Hope that she was still alive had kept him going. Now, such hope was not possible. She was slipping away from him and he couldn’t stop it, no more than he could stop water from slipping through his fingers. Slowly, she reached up, briefly cupping his cheek.

“Yes, you can. You’re so strong, Tyril. So much stronger than you realize. You still have so much to give to this incredible world we live in. Travel, learn, protect those who can’t protect themselves.” She dropped her hand to her chest, clasping his hand weakly and bringing it over to rest over her heart. “Promise me, Tyril.” She whispered. “Promise me. Promise me, Uluvalir.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a few of his tears dripping onto her cheeks when she barely returned the gesture. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, letting out a shaking breath.

“I promise.” He whispered before pulling back. She tried to reach up her hand again but it soon fell back to rest on her chest, her strength waning.

“Take care of the others for me. And take care of Kade. Tell him that I’m sorry.” She took a deep, quivering breath, looking at Nia when the priestess took her hand. “Live.” She said, forcing herself to speak louder. She took in another breath, shallow and quick, before looking to Imtura and Mal. “Live for me.”

“Of course, Kassandra.” Nia nodded.

“Always.” Mal responded, nudging Imtura. The two hobbled closer, getting down on their knees next to their companions.

“It’s been an honor fighting with you.” Imtura said with a quivering voice, laying her hand over Nia’s. Soon, Mal’s hand joined as did Tyril’s. Kassandra’s eyes seemed to gaze through them but her smile remained warm.

“What a beautiful family.” She whispered before a faint gasp escaped her lips, her eyes losing focus, her chest becoming still.

For a moment, all was silent, the friends unmoving. With a shaking hand, Tyril reached up and closed Kassandra’s eyes, letting out a strangled sob; she looked so peaceful, he could almost convince himself she was only sleeping. He felt a hand on his shoulder, finding Nia’s eyes red, her composure cracking. She opened her mouth, likely to try to say something comforting but nothing came out and she bowed her head in grief. Mal’s face was stoic but it too was breaking, a tear forcing itself out while Imtura seemed to shake, her fists clenched, her jaw tight.

“Kassandra!” A familiar voice cried.

The four friends turned their heads to the noise, finding Aerin bounding up the hill, Valax on his heels. They skidded to a stop, staring at the scene, horror clouding Aerin’s face.

“Is she…?” His voice shook. Tyril found himself staring at the former prince’s face, finding traces of the love and affection he’d sent in Kassandra’s direction when he thought no one was looking. Another rush of tears flowed from the elf’s eyes as he shook his head; he could hear the prince’s gasp just barely over the sound of his own shattering heart.

As Adrina and the rest of their allies climbed the hill, Tyril watched as Valax turned briskly on her heels and ran towards the portal, the elf spying sorrow and hurt in her eyes in the brief moment he saw her face.

As the Ash princess disappeared through the portal, Adrina had reached the top of the hill, gasping at the sight that greeted her. The siblings exchanged a look; nothing needed to be said, the heavy air conveying the tragic news to her.

Tears in her eyes, Adrina lowered herself to one knee, laying her weapon down and bowed her head reverently to Kassandra. She was soon joined by Cherta and Willow and Aerin and slowly, one by one, the entire army kneeled before them; the sight would’ve been beautiful in any other circumstance, Tyril told himself bitterly as he tightly embraced the body of his lost love.

The days passed in a blur. Seconds became hours, and hours felt like weeks.

A funeral occurred only days later. It was an elaborate ceremony, no expense being too great for the noble hero who sacrificed herself for the realm. The king and many others spoke eloquently and gratefully about her, exalting her virtues and praising her bravery and sacrifice.

“They could never do her justice.” Tyril thought bitterly after the king finished speaking. “She was divine, celestial. She outshone the stars and now, the stars will bow to her for she is greater than them all.”

He forced his way through the ceremony, keeping his jaw tight, fists clenched and shaking slightly; his friends remained close to him, placing supportive hands on his shoulder and whispering words to spur him through the remainder of the ceremony.

After the funeral, he shut himself in his room and he finally let the overwhelming, raging anger out. Smashed vases, broken mirrors, ripped sheets, chipped and charred wood. When there was nothing left to receive his anger, he had collapsed onto the floor, clawing at his head and hair, tears soaking the carpet. He must’ve been loud because shortly after, Adrina had found him in his pathetic state. He didn’t remember much of what happened after. He had a vague recollection of being guided to the chair by the fireplace, a crackling of a spell in the air, restoring the room to its correct state, and a blanket being placed over his shoulders. There had been a muffled voice and a warm hand holding his but he had not reacted, staring at the flames in the hearth.

He remained there, still as a statue, ruminating, not moving even after his sister had given up on pleading with him. After an eternity, she had left, a whisper of a promise to return on her lips as she shut the door.

Somehow, he snapped out of his catatonic state enough to summon a servant to his room. In a monotone voice, he requested wine to be brought to him, a deep craving for alcohol forming in him. The servant returned with the requested item soon enough, Tyril glad that the human had enough sense to bring the bottle too.

It didn’t last the night.

Another bottle was brought the next night and it too was soon empty, the liquor bringing him the numbness he desired. With every drink, another tear fell, his mind repeating the same thought over and over.

First his mother, then Kaya, and now Kassandra. Why were they the cost for all he’d done?

The empty bottle was placed on the table next to his chair, it quickly removed by the servant when they brought more of the requested drink. He didn’t move much from the chair, not that he had the energy to do much else. The days had become a blur, night turning into day and back to night in a matter of seconds. His sister and his friends came by at times, bringing food and water and taking away the untouched plates and cups. They spoke to him, though he never listened to them enough to hear what was said. One word answers in the same monotonous tone were all he could manage.

For days, he remained in the chair, the cycle of friends visiting and servants bringing him his requests continuing. Briefly, he thought that he must’ve been a sight to behold in this stupor. Hair disheveled, clothing wrinkled, eyes red with large bags underneath, wine never far. It was a far cry from the proper lord he once was.

He downed the glass of wine he had in his hand - he wasn’t certain how many he had had already that evening; he stopped counting after the third glass. The liquor went down with ease, adding another delicious layer of numbness. Once the final drops were out of the cup, he placed it down on the table next to him and turned his gaze to the ornate box adjacent to the glass.

He had discovered it on top of one of the dressers many moons ago but it had not crossed his mind until more recent times; in a brief moment out of his catatonia, he had retrieved it and placed it near him. Slowly, he undid the clasp and lifted the lid.

Inside was an ornately decorated knife, it lying beautifully on top a pillow of velvet; another display of the king’s wealth, meant to be admired, not used.

Gently, he took the blade out of the box, it staying loosely in his hand. He turned it in his hand, examining the details on the hilt and the blade itself. It was very beautiful, he had to admit. He continued to stare at it, the firelight reflecting in the blade, the sharpness looking rather inviting.

You have to keep going. Promise me, Tyril. Promise me.

“Why would you make me promise something like that?” He muttered, no tears coming out; he had run out hours ago. Memories flashed across his mind, the happiness in them mocking him. That fateful first meeting in Port Parnassus, the conversation by the railing on the Sun Maiden, their first kiss in the Deadwood, dancing in Undermount, the balcony in Whitetower, the wonderful moment he held her again after that long and lonely year.

His grip on the knife tightened as the memory of the final fight against the Shadow Court flashed before him. That one final moment before opening the door to the ritual chamber. He had kissed her, convinced that it would be the last one.

“I want to live, Kassandra. I want to live for you.” He had told her in that moment. “What is there to live for now?” He mumbled, his grip loosening.

Another memory came to him as he continued to stare at the knife, the flame reminding him of the heat of the moment and the desert they had been in. He replayed it a few times in his mind, every whisper of Dinvalir causing yet more aches. He clawed through the memory once more when a moment within gave him pause.

Sometimes I hate my sense of duty.

I love your sense of duty.

He froze, the knife slipping from his grasp, the tip embedding itself into the floor. His lips began to crack as a smirk made its way to his face, a realization hitting him.

“Clever Kassandra.” He whispered. “Clever, clever Kassandra.” She had known him so well. Even as she lay dying, she thought of his well-being and his future, appealing to his sense of duty in her final moments. He would’ve given her anything, she had known that; ask for a star and he would’ve gifted her the night sky. She had asked for him to keep going, had him promise to keep going and in doing so, she had made it his duty to keep going.

He retrieved the knife from the floor, the sharpness no longer as inviting as before. He stared at it for a few more moments before placing it back on the pillow, slamming the lid shut and placing the latch back in place. He felt discomfort in his knees as he stood up, taking the box off the table and slowly walking to the nearest dresser, opening the top compartment and shoving the box in, slamming the compartment shut once more.

He shuffled to the table and turned the cup upside down. He stared at the chair for a moment but he turned away, going to stand before the fireplace, leaning one hand on the mantle. He stared into the fire, an unexpected tear forming in his eye.

Promise me, Tyril.

Her voice sounded clear in his mind and his imagination played a beautiful trick as he felt a ghostly touch on his shoulder, the sensation eventually moving and embracing him from behind, the phantom ethereal touch beaming with reassurance. It made him smile so slightly, imagining that the touch was her. He let out a long breath, imagining the ethereal hand being placed over his heart as a lightness he hadn’t felt in some time rushed through him.

“The path ahead won’t be easy.” He whispered like a prayer. “The road was much clearer with you beside me. I don’t know what’s next for me. I don’t know what the future holds. It’s all obscured in a thick mist and traversing it without your guiding light terrifies me.” He paused, the imagined hands embracing him more tightly. “I will traverse it and I hope that you stand by me when I do, even when I can’t see you or feel your touch. I know it won’t be easy. But for you? I will try.” He placed his own hand over his heart.

“I promise.”

[livelaughlovecassie]

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Pairing: Princess Valax x Nia Ellarious

Rating/Warning: General, mentions of injury

Summary: Getting to know people is a new experience for Valax. She’ll figure it out, slowly but surely.

A/N: Utterly feral about them, pumped out a small fic!! I hope y’all enjoy

There’s something exceedingly familiar about Nia’s touch now.

She knows it apart from the rest without looking- the distinction isn’t hard to make. Raine’s is like her- all encompassing, Imtura’s hearty and welcoming, Tyril’s betraying his learned elegance, Mal’s always accompanied with a grin (never to be trusted, Tyril warns), Aerin’s unsure of itself. Nia’s stands out in a category looping into others- a gentleness not learned like Tyril’s, halting as Aerin’s if she breaches whatever imaginary boundary she’d set up. When she relaxes though, Valax feels something different, commanding. Nia’s touch is one of somebody who’s learned what they want, give her enough time and her touch is equally as magnetic as she is.

It’s ridiculous, to spend so much time catalouging such a thing as touch. No need to be familiar with subordinates, reminds her mother’s voice.

Familiarity with friends, she corrects. Something Raine once deemed essential- and she’s not one to skimp on the essentials.

“I hope this isn’t hurting you-” Nia worries, bringing Valax’s attention back to the touch behind the spiral. “It’ll heal without any issues, but it can be rather uncomfortable.”

“Even if so, complaints about pain would be useless” she informs her, tucking her leg slightly. Had they not taught this during her training as a priestess at the temple? She can’t imagine a profession that requires the advice more. Nia’s told her few stories, but she never did need much information to understand things- she knows enough. For a place where others choose to unburden themselves, its workers are surprisingly discouraged from the practice.

The flow of Nia’s shadow doesn’t so much as falter at this, healing the admittedly inconvenient scratch. She can feel the difference in her use of it now- she relishes in the lack of restraint. Familiarity led to comfort- Nia wields what she once deemed the worst of herself as though it’s an old friend. Following this line of thought, her hand wanders, finding Nia’s leg. Not total unrestraint, but a bit of indulgence as she rests her hand.

“Not always” Nia offers, and Valax yet again finds her attention diverted. It’s disconcerting to be near Nia, she’s never sure what to focus on. She often deigns to watch her lips- (she’s not oblivious to why it garners childlike giggles from Raine and Mal, she informs them so one night, but such trivalties are between the two of them)- she can’t deny enjoys the flush of Nia’s cheeks when she realizes she’s been noticed in such a way. “Complaints bring attention to the problem. We don’t do ourselves any favors by repressing things”

Valax’s eyes flick to her lips again.

“Repression, restraint. Coveted traits, to ask my mother. But I suppose that there’s sense in that” she allows, flexing her arm. Perfectly healed. “I’d still be suffering otherwise. Thank you- for the musings and the healing”

Nia’s responding smile is slightly strained as she waves a hand dismissively. “It’s a pleasure to be able to help.”

[normal-thoughts-official]

*deep breath* still thinking about the shadow!mal theory

because the thing is, when MC was gone, mal was vulnerable. he lost either his lover or one of his most important friends, PLUS imtura, and then he took on this huge responsibility (the orphanage) and overworked himself and had this whole guilt thing going on. all that put him in a vulnerable position to be manipulated. and i mean he does keep talking about how losing MC changed him. so it makes sense

what I don't get is. how does that corruption work?

we know shadow corruption in book1 was mostly whispers promising you power and shit and telling you to kill people, but that was the shadow controlled by the shadow court. and i dont think the shadow court has the time and resources to run this routine rn, plus, I don't think it'd work on mal. he might arguably be ambitious but I can't see mal being swayed by promises of power or falling for evil whispers telling him to kill people. he's too smart for that, and tbh, i think that he cares too much (about mc, about his friends, about the orphanage) to trade them for power and/or money

but we also do know that mal's obsession with money comes from a place of needing stability, because he grew up without nothing and it's made him vulnerable and unable to care for himself, much less others. he's scared of being in that position again, and so he is always after it. which means i can only see the corruption working in the following ways:

instead of promising power and riches and whatever the fuck else to mal, what they promised is that he'd be able to keep the kids, and his friends, safe. he wouldn't have to worry about what happening to MC happening to them. he would be able to ensure stability and safety to all of them. and that's what swayed him

mal straight up doesn't know he's corrupted. maybe he's just mentally broken and the shadow is manipulating him subtly because of that

mal has been full on damien'ed and this is some shadow copy or whatever (which explains why valax' glaive pretty much didn't affect him. he claims it wasn't deep enough for the shadow to seep in but it SURE AS FUCK DIDN'T LOOK THAT WAY). who's, idk, spying on us? and the real mal is in god knows where looking for mc, or maybe even stuck in the shadow realm somehow, or idk, something

maybe im just being delusional and refusing to accept the facts but i doubt PB would go the route of having a LI turn full on evil. and again i just really don't feel like it's mal's style. and while obviously mal's stiltedness could be explained by him not wanting mc to know how much he's been hurting... that's not his m.o. when mal is trying to deflect, he turns the charm up to 11. and right now he's been acting almost dull. i mean i loved mal in the latest chapters but something still feels wrong in a way that it doesn't with any of the other LIs

also, i wonder if nia knows. i mean, she's a high powerful priestess or whatever, and she keeps saying she needs to believe corrupted people could be saved. the obvious answer to that is because of her whole shadow situation, but what if it's also about mal? alternatively, mal knows about nia and that was part of what drove him over the edge

idk, thoughts? i feel like im going insane over here