A thin line between desires

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<div align='center' style='font-size: 150%;'>\ __''Personal Profile''__ \ </div>\ Name: $name ''Physical description'' Eye color: $eyes Hair: $hairlength, $hairtype, $haircolour Skin: $skincolour Body: $body, $height <div align='center' style='font-size: 150%;'>\ __''Personality Traits''__ \ </div>\ <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ Archetype: ''The Maiden'' Friendly, ecstatic, joyful, and curious, you have a zest for life and enthusiasm matched by none. Others often talk about your playfulness, innocence, and inherent lightness of being, but you are also prone to being too compliant, naive, and lacking the drive to take up your own path in life. There is a wonder to the world that you want to bask in. Moon Phase: Waxing/New Moon Time of Day: Dawn/Early Morning Tarot: The High Priestess Herbs: Stinging Nettles, Yerba Santa, Burdock, Oat Straw, Red Raspberry Leaf, Cleavers, Violet, Chickweed, Dandelion \ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ Archetype: ''The Enchantress'' Unapologetic and bold, you have no trouble standing fully in your power. Others might sometimes be put off by your tendency towards denial and chaos, but your strong voice also hides passion and an unmatched determination. There is a strength in giving into and tending to ourselves wholly. Moon Phase: Waning Time of Day: Sunset Tarot: The Witch Herbs: Consciousness shifting plants, Kava Kava, Willow, Elder, Passionflower, Linden Flower, Awshwagandha, Shatavari, Skullcap, Blue Vervain, Rose, Blue Lotus, Mugwort, Elderflower \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ Archetype: ''The Nurturer'' Protective, selfless, encouraging, you love helping whenever you can. Others are naturally attracted to your nurturing and calming self, but this tendency towards selflessness makes you prone to burnout, and your devotion can just as easily turn to obsession, a tendency to becoming anxious and overbearing. There is an energy when ideas and plans come to fruition. Moon Phase: Full Moon Time of Day: Midday Tarot: The Empress Herbs: Cacao, Hibiscus, Calendula, Saint John’s Wort, Rosemary, Lemon Balm, Cinnamon, Mint, Schisandra \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ Archetype: ''The Wise'' Stoic and introspective, you live beyond fear and embody the discerning advisor. Others come to you for your calmness and ability to examine the situations with clarity, but taken to extreme you become at risk of becoming a hermit and too disconnected from the world, as well as brutal and unforgiving. There is a knowledge to be gained in silence. Moon Phase: Dark/New Moon Time of Day: Night Tarot: The Hermit, Death, Strength Herbs: Hops, Reishi, Mugwort, Comfrey, Kava Kava, Blue Vervain, Tulsi, Blue Lotus, Passion Vine, Lion’s Mane, Turkey tail, Ashwagandha <</if>> <div class="stat-bar-group">\ <div class="stat-bar-container">\ <div class="stat-bar-overlay-left">Lucidity $lucid%</div>\ <div class="stat-bar" id="lucid-stat"></div>\ </div></div>\ ''[[Glossary]]'' [[Return to Game|$return]]

//''Welcome to A thin line between desires!''// Latest Update: Chapter 1 - 1st of December 2024 Gender locked Female MC. All Male ROs. Theme: HEAVILY inspired by ACOTAR (this was initially a Tamlin redemption fanfic that spiraled out of control ) With sprinkles of WoT and Stormlight Archive. In a world where magic is law and power is everything, A thin line between desires invites you into a sinfully beautiful, emotionally charged, wickedly dark and traumatic interactive tale set within Aequrion, a realm that had been split a long time ago into the Mortal and Undying Lands, humans and kindred. Embark on a fast-burn, high-stakes journey of trauma, power, and the thin, blistering line between love and survival. Every decision matters. Every scar tells a story. And the scariest monsters may not be the ones wearing claws. You play as ''a human woman'' with no memories, brought into a world of magic and ghastly beauty — used as a pawn, stolen from the arms of one High Lord by another, as prophecies and blessings push you deeper into the fray. What began as a dream of love and freedom shattered into nearly a decade of decadence, survival, pain, degradation and despair. Once cherished in the wild Forest Court, now kept as a twisted trophy in Regina’s brutal dominion beneath the mountains of the Sun Court. But even in darkness, desire burns. Even in chains, your mind remains your own. Mostly. Reclaim your voice. Uncover buried truths. Shape the fate of the realm with every decision. Will you seek vengeance? Love? Freedom? Or will you become something else entirely? Warning: This dark romantasy contains mature themes, emotional intensity, and morally complex characters. Choose carefully. Not every path leads to salvation. Some sexual content will not be entirely optional and VERY non-con (Chapter 2), in the beginning as the MC is captive (full fairy revel madness). ''The romance is NOT optional'', you will have to choose a ✨mate✨ at one point. //This is a WIP and things are subjected to change.// ''Strictly 18+!'' You can hit me up at any time if you think I should add a certain warning or fix errors or generally any questions you may have. It would be greatly appreciated. [[Tumblr Dev blog|https://theostwistedtales.tumblr.com/]] <<set $name to "==Redacted==">>\ \ <<set $eyes to "Redacted">>\ <<set $haircolour to "Redacted">>\ <<set $hairtype to "Redacted">>\ <<set $hairlength to "Redacted">>\ <<set $body to "Redacted">>\ <<set $height to "Redacted">>\ <<set $feature to "Redacted">>\ <<set $skincolour to "Redacted">>\ \ <<set $k_love to 0>>\ <<set $a_love to 0>>\ <<set $s_love to 0>>\ <<set $o_love to 0>>\ <<set $w_love to 0>>\ <<set $r_love to 0>>\ \ <<set $k_rel to 0>>\ <<set $w_rel to 0>>\ <<set $ynonne_rel to 0>>\ <<set $dovi_rel to 0>>\ <<set $other_rel to 0>>\ \ <<set $maiden to 0>>\ <<set $enchant to 0>>\ <<set $nurture to 0>>\ <<set $wise to 0>>\ <<set $flirt to 50>>\ <<set $bold to 0>>\ <<set $shy to 0>>\ \ <<set $firstcount to 0>>\ \ <<set $lucid = 100>>  \ <<set $bg to "modern">>\ <<set $herbs to "herbs">>\ <<set $ceremony to "specific">>\ <<set $herb to "herb">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "specifics">>\ \ <<set $k_kiss to 0>>\ <<set $k_sex to 0>>\ <<button "Will do!" "P1">><</button>>

<div class="header"> <div id="header-text" data-passage="header-text"></div> <div id="function-menu"> <span id="menu">⇶Menu</span> <span id="back">◀ Back</span> <span id="settings">☼Settings</span> <span id="saves">✎Saves</span> <span id="restart">↻Replay</span> <span id="header-fullscreen-button">⛶Full screen</span> <span id="journal-button">۝Profile</span> <span id="rel-button">♡Romance</div> </div> <div id="main"> <div id="passages"> </div> </div>  <div class="mobile-menu"> <span id="mob-menu">📂</span> <div id="mob-function-menu"> <span id="mob-back">⬅️</span> <span id="mob-settings">⚙️</span> <span id="mob-saves">💾</span> <span id="mob-restart">🔄</span> <span id="journal-button">۝</span> </div> </div> </div>

🍃 Kael’thalas - High Lord of the Forest Court - The Wild Sovereign - The Last Ael’thari The High Lord of the Forest Court is the embodiment of untamed nature and quiet strength. Towering and broad-shouldered, his body is carved from muscle, like an ancient statue grown from the earth itself. His skin is sun-kissed, and his long, almost-white blonde hair falls in silken waves down his back, often tangled by wind and wildflowers alike. Beneath heavy brows, his emerald green eyes shine with a soul-deep warmth, piercing, but never cold. There’s a primal grace to him, like a great beast at rest, power held in patient reserve. Tattoos or markings snake down one arm, looking like roots or vines grown into his skin, echoing his bond with the forest. Though he looks wild, there’s a gentleness in the way he moves, in the way his gaze lingers—protective, steady, and deeply in tune with the world around him. A quiet force of nature cloaked in silence and strength, the very air shifting around him… and the first face you see when you awaken. Tropes: Found family, friends to lovers, Star-crossed lovers?, option for him to be just a brotherly figure. [[Back to the RO Profiles|Cast]] [[Return to Game|$return]]

⚔️ Rhevan - The human King - The Bloodbound King - Oathbreaker. The Human King is is a legend carved in blood and fire. His eyes, a rich, earth-dark brown, are deep and steady like tilled soil after rain - patient, knowing, scarred by what they’ve seen. There’s weight in them, the kind that comes not from age, but from choice. He does not flinch from violence, but neither does he revel in it. He carries the cost of his crown behind those eyes. His body is carved by survival—tall and powerful, yet weathered, with a strength born of necessity, not ornament. His skin is a rich, sun-darkened bronze, marred by old scars and the occasional fresh wound that he wears like history etched in flesh. There’s a brutal honesty to him, as though he would rather be feared than adored, and yet he is loved for that very reason. His hair is a tousled crown deep brown, falling in wild curls that catch the light like dark copper leaves. His jaw is strong, his cheekbones high, and his smile, when it comes as he turns towards you in a dream, is both fierce and unburdened, the kind that feels like summer after a long winter. Tropes: kinda friends to enemies to something more, loyalty, betrayal, angst, the usual. [[Back to the RO Profiles|Cast]] [[Return to Game|$return]]

🌙 Azrien - High Lord of the Moon Court - The Fallen Star - The Moonkindler. The High Lord of the Moon Court is a vision born of midnight and magic. His skin is twilight, velvety lilac to deep blues, scattered with constellations that shimmer and shift as if the night sky itself had been woven into his flesh. Each movement catches the light of invisible stars, casting soft glows that dance like stardust. His long, silvery-white hair flows around him like lunar mist, wild and otherworldly. It floats with a weightlessness that defies gravity, haloing a face both sharp and regal. His silver eyes glow like twin moons, unreadable and eternal, always watching with a calm that borders on eerie. There’s an elegant stillness about him, a silence that commands reverence. Adorned in regal black and cosmic violet, inked with celestial patterns across his chest and shoulders, he is timeless—a being shaped by both shadow and starlight… and your kidnapper, the one responsible for your decade of misery and despair. Tropes: Arranged marriage, the most enemies to lovers, with a dash some kind of shared Stockholm syndrome for sure :)), Star-crossed lovers? [[Back to the RO Profiles|Cast]] [[Return to Game|$return]]

☀️ Solren - High Lord of the Sun Court - The Gilded Flame - The Sun's Judgement -> I am weak, I might turn him into some kind of twisted Sunwalker vampire The High Lord of the Sun Court stands as a vision of elemental fire and divine authority. His skin is bronzed and radiant, glowing faintly with the burnished warmth of eternal sunlight. Golden tattoos arc across his chest and neck like ancient runes, pulsing softly with power. Long, fiery red hair falls in wild waves or perhaps a loose braid, a cascade of molten flame framing a face carved with impossible beauty—sharp cheekbones, full lips, and glowing amber eyes that burn like twin suns. There’s a dangerous allure to his gaze, something both regal and ruthless, and the faint smirk tugging at his mouth speaks of a male who knows both power and how to wield it. But why has such a creature turned his eyes on you? Tropes: Oh man… manipulation? enemies-ish to lovers. [[Back to the RO Profiles|Cast]] [[Return to Game|$return]]

You have @@.c;<<listbox "$skincolour" autoselect>> <<option "fair" fair>> <<option "rosy" rosy>> <<option "tan" tan>> <<option "olive" olive>> <<option "brown" brown>> <<option "dark" dark>> <</listbox>>@@ skin and a @@.c;<<listbox "$body" autoselect>> <<option "lean" lean>> <<option "toned" toned>> <<option "curvy" curvy>> <</listbox>>@@ body. You are considered @@.c;<<listbox "$height" autoselect>> <<option "short" short>> <<option "average height" average height>> <<option "tall" tall>> <</listbox>>@@. Your eye color is @@.c;<<listbox "$eyes" autoselect>> <<option "grey" grey>> <<option "blue" blue>> <<option "green" green>> <<option "hazel" hazel>> <<option "brown" brown>> <<option "black" black>> <</listbox>>@@. You have @@.c;<<listbox "$hairtype" autoselect>> <<option "straight" straight>> <<option "wavy" wavy>> <<option "curly" curly>> <<option "coily" coily>> <</listbox>>@@, @@.c;<<listbox "$haircolour" autoselect>> <<option "black" black>> <<option "dark brown" dark brown>> <<option "light brown" light brown>> <<option "auburn" auburn>> <<option "red" red>> <<option "strawberry blonde" strawberry blonde>> <<option "light blonde" light blonde>> <<option "dark blonde" dark blonde>> <</listbox>>@@, @@.c;<<listbox "$hairlength" autoselect>> <<option "ear length" "short">> <<option "shoulder length" "shoulder length">> <<option "chest length" "long">> <<option "waist length" "long">> <</listbox>>@@ hair. <<set $lucidity += 10>> ˋ°•*⁀➷[[Looks good!]]@@

!Prologue ~ The start of something good //Taelreth, the 1st of Elathar// The first time you remember opening your eyes, the world around you was peaceful. It was warm outside, your body not shivering despite the fact that you were laying on the ground, dew drops gently sliding off long wisps of grass, tickling you. Early morning still. It was quiet, but not the eerie kind that makes you worry, no. There were birds chirping deeper in the forest, water rushing somewhere down a stream. A ladybug flew above you, but did not stop. Large white clouds moved lazily across a pale blue sky, a shadow passing through them, too quickly to be a bird. The world was moving, but you were not. There was a stillness to you, to your mind, as if a heavy blanket of snow covered your thoughts, but your body was basking in warm sun rays. You drew a blank when you wondered where you were, or what you had been doing there. You lift yourself on your elbows, the small glade you were in expanding before your eyes, but nothing seemed familiar. Nothing in the treeline ahead, or the massive flying islands beyond it, nor the distant mountains behind. It all left you feeling strangely hollow. Nothing would be familiar for a long while, but you couldn't know that, not yet. Your thoughts came back empty when trying to recall anything of note. Suddenly you felt very °•* [[curious|PR 1.2][$maiden to 10]] °•* [[angry|PR 1.2][$enchant to 10]] °•* [[scared|PR 1.2][$nurture to 10]] °•* [[hollow|PR 1.2][$wise to 10]]

You have $skincolour skin and a $body body. You are considered $height. Your eye color is $eyes. You have $hairtype, $haircolour hair, kept $hairlength. How do you usually style it? <<if $hairlength is "short">>\ <<listbox "$hairstyle" autoselect>>\ <<option "pixie cut" pixie cut>> <<option "bob" bob>><</listbox>>@@ <<else>>\ <<listbox "$hairstyle" autoselect>>\ <<option "natural and loose" loose>> <<option "top bun" top bun>> <<option "low bun" low bun>> <<option "ponytail" ponytail>> <<option "elaborate braid" braid>> <<option "locs" locs>> <</listbox>>@@<</if>>\ Lastly, please select an origin: <<radiobutton "$bg" "modern" autocheck>> The Blank Slate <<radiobutton "$bg" "spy" autocheck>> The Betrayed Spy <<radiobutton "$bg" "cultist" autocheck>> The Escaped Cultist ˋ°•*⁀➷[[Onward to the story!|Interlude 1.1]]

<<if $enchant is 10>>You feel your blood boil, body trembling with a resolve you couldn’t place the origin of. Something had happened to you and you were not going to lay down there and wait. The feeling was unnerving, you had no control over the situation, you barely thought you had a grasp on it. You knew you could rely on yourself, but that was the extent of your knowledge of what was happening. ''A fiery red streak'', like an angry, crackling flame, appeared above you. It moved erratically over your head, leaving trails of ''heat'' and ''sparks'' in its wake, as though it was borne of ''friction'', as when trying to start a fire with twigs. \ <<elseif $maiden is 10>>It was a curious thing, not having anything from your past to cling to, no memories, good or bad, no traumas or events that summed up would make the whole that was uniquely you. But maybe this was a good thing, a tabula rasa, a fresh blank start. You could write your story from now on with fresh eyes and an unpolluted mind. Or perhaps you were already a flawed person waiting to make her next mistakes. Whatever the case, the future was exciting. ''Beacons of radiant light'', like small, expanding spheres that shimmer in the air, appeared above you. They pulsed with soft golden, white and violet hues. One ventured closer, hovering near your chest, and for a moment it pulsed in tandem with the rhythm of your heart. <<elseif $nurture is 10>>Your breath catches in your throat, eyes darting from place to place, from tree to tree, but everything looked the same and nothing was jolting any deep buried memory. You spin around, looking for something, anything that could help you make sense of…. of what? Dread washes over you, the feeling of being so unprepared, so alone and vulnerable making your thoughts spiral out of control. How could you have been so stupid to get in this situation? From the corner of your eye you spot ''dark swirlings'', shadow-like figures. You turned and saw some ever changing silhouettes, constantly shifting in shape, ''like a trail of smoke that never settles''. They circled around you, always settling in the outskirts of your vision, fleeting and unnerving. \ <<elseif $wise is 10>>You stare blankly at the trees before you, your mind calm, eyes scanning for something, but you were not sure what. It was a strange feeling, being so empty and maybe just a little bit lost. Lost in the vast emptiness of your thoughts. You know, at your core, that there’s an explanation for all of this, and if there was a way here, there can always be a way back. Back to what, you did not know, but you focussed on the certainties that you could rely on. ''Iridescent droplets'' surround you, as if condensed from the air itself. They hang midair, catching the light, glinting in the early sun. They were hauntingly beautiful, ''a shifting curtain of precious gems'', a suspended rainfall of crystals. \ <<else>> Something went wrong with the code here. <</if>>\ “A human.” A deep, monotone voice rang through the foliage, breaking your little inner debate. “So far into our lands? She couldn’t have made it all this way alone, could she?” You turned your head towards the voices, a part of you hoping some kind of recollection would hit, but there was none. These people were tall, imposingly so, but what drew your attention were the masks completely covering their eyes. Your hand lifted automatically to your face, as if to make sure if you maybe had one too. You didn’t, which in hindsight made sense. You shook your head, willing away some of the haze, only managing to make it worse. “What are you doing here?” the blonde one asks, his voice commanding, but there was no malice in it. His face was turned in your direction, eyes hidden behind a gilded mask of leaves twisting around two emeralds. It brought your attention back to him, but had no answer you could give. “I don’t-” Your brows drew together, throat suddenly dry, tight. It was as if hearing your voice for the first time. You knew, on some level, that it belonged to you, but there was no tangent memory to it. “I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” the redhead asked, clearly not believing it. She crouched and sniffed, actually sniffed the air around you, the proximity allowing you to better see the copper mask - shaped almost like a fox, with prolonged edges like little ears and covering part of her button nose. Two different coloured gems were in place of the eyes, one russet, one gold. You lean in, curiosity getting the better of you, and she in turn pulls back, a baffled expression still visible on her half-hidden face. “Who are you?” The words confused you at first. Surely, you knew //who// you were, right? You were the daughter of… No names came to mind, no image of any parent, or family member, no childhood house or memory. You had an occupation then, you had to in order to survive. You had been… something, somewhere, to someone, it all came back empty, not a clue of any past activity you may have dabbled in, no hobbies or interest, no books you might have liked or stories you might have heard once upon a time. The only thing you did remember was a name, your name. °•* [[Aurora|Ch 1.2][$name to "Aurora"]] °•* [[Morgan|Ch 1.2][$name to "Morgan"]] °•* [[Victoria|Ch 1.2][$name to "Victoria"]] °•* [[Leia|Ch 1.2][$name to "Leia"]] °•* [[Aithne|Ch 1.2][$name to "Aithne"]] °•* [[Cersei|Ch 1.2][$name to "Cersei"]] °•* [[Fleur|Ch 1.2][$name to "Fleur"]] ˋ°•*⁀➷ [[Actually my name is...|Enter name]]

They exchange ‘glances’, both of them angling their heards slightly towards one another, and you wondered if the masks were just for show or did they really could not see through them. An unspoken conversation happened in seconds between the pair, just by the way the redhead lifted a barely visible eyebrow and the blonde shook his head, both blind to the other’s action yet still somehow aware of it. Whatever it was, the fox seemed to be victorious in the odd silent moment, as she turned to you with a dashing smile. “Well then, $name, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Yvonne, and this right here is Kael’thalas, Lord of the Forest Court.” “Forest court?” “You know you are in Forest right now, yes? The Wild Fields. Quite deep in the Undying Lands, dangerously close to the Twin Mounts.” She cocked her head to the side, her red bangs falling over the copper mask. You were none to judge, but the colours clashed quite terribly. “I am aware of what a forest is, but not of any //courts//.” You gazed around for a bit and added in a murmur. “Besides, this looks more like a meadow.” You could see a forest ahead and some mountain peaks in the far distance behind. The flying islands beyond the sea of trees were a sight, but otherwise, it was a beautiful open plain, green grass and little colourful flowers all around, butterflies and bees buzzing around to their own business. “Hmm, curious. Do they not teach you anything about this side of the Plateau in the Mortal Lands? At least not to cross to this side?” she ponders, doubt still present in the way her posture stiffens. “How did you cross?” “Those words mean nothing to me, plateau, Mortal Lands…?” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “I… I think something is wrong with my memories.” You pat your head, looking for any wound or sore spot, but everything feels fine. You feel healthy, in power, as if you had just awakened from a peaceful sleep in your own bed, only to open your eyes into a nice sunny field, stripped of your entire past. “I can’t remember anything.” “Nothing at all? Where you are from, family…” You shake your head again, this time the wooziness dissipating. The blonde nodded and seemed to… search for something, his head moving as if he was ‘looking’ at you, through you. You feel a sizzling in the air, a soft floral taste on your tongue. “Nothing feels wrong with her, no curses I can detect, but this is not my specialty.” Kael’thalas shrugs. “I can sense no enchantment on her either.” There was a long sigh from the so-called high lord at the redhead’s statement. His eyesless mask turned towards you once again, and despite the gold and gems adorning it, despite his tall frame and wide stature, he looked tired, his shoulders sagging as if a weight was suddenly placed on top. “We can’t leave her here.” “Of course we can’t.” There was a sly smile on Yvonne’s face as she turned towards you, her demeanor shifting completely. “Come, you’ll be safe in the manor. You don’t want to be here at night alone.” You were engulfed in a large coat, the fabric light and softer than you expected over your bare skin. It dawned on you for the first time that you had been buck naked in front of them the entire time. °•* [[You daringly studied Kael’thalas’s movements.|Ch 1.3][$fake to 1]] °•* [[You were suddenly very interested in Kael’thalas’s boots.|Ch 1.3][$fake to 2]] °•* [[You were very grateful for Kael’thalas’s coat.|Ch 1.3][$fake to 3]] °•* [[You were very grateful for Yvonne’s coat.|Ch 1.3][$fake to 4]]

<<textbox "$name" "">> ˋ°•*⁀➷ [[Sounds good enough!|Ch 1.2]]@@

<<if $fake is 1>>\ <<set $bold to 3>>\ <<set $k_love to 1>>\ <<set $k_rel to 1>>\ There was no reaction on Kael’thalas’s mask-covered face, none you could tell of at least, as you let your eyes wander all over him. His hands deftly buttoned the deep green coat, unbothered by your nakedness or boldness. You had to resist the urge to let your fingers trail over his forearms, his shirt's sleeves rolled up to expose those muscular arms, faint whitened scars marking from place to place. You wondered how it would feel like to be lifted by him, how good it must be held tightly in that iron grip. “Thank you.” you finally said, smiling, as he got to a button near your waist, his figure leaned over to properly reach it. “You’re welcome.” There was almost no emotion in his tone, his expression hard to guess with his eyes covered. But you thought you saw a small tug on the corner of his lips, there and gone so fast you might have imagined it. <<elseif $fake is 2>>\ <<set $shy to 3>>\ <<set $k_love to 1>>\ <<set $k_rel to 1>>\ Kael’thalas’s boots were a deep shade of black. They were really pretty and seemed expertly crafted, golden seams and decorations. They hugged his calves nicely, very thick calves, you wondered how he even fit those boots over such… No, no, no. You glanced up, but you felt your ears get even redder at the proximity. Thank any gods out there for the mask he was wearing, for you were sure your face was all kinds of red. “Thank you.” you finally said shyly, as he got to a button near your waist, his figure leaned over to properly reach it. “You’re welcome.” There was almost no emotion in his tone, his expression hard to guess with his eyes covered. But you thought you saw a small tug on the corner of his lips, there and gone so fast you might have imagined it. <<elseif $fake is 4>>\ <<set $y_rel to 5>>\ <<set $k_rel to 1>>\ Yvonne wrapped her coat around you, and you immediately felt a wave of relief wash over you. It was a bit silly, since they couldn't see you anyway, but you didn't particularly want to frolic naked through the forest. “Thank you.” you said finally and started buttoning the coat. “Gathered you were cold, you were starting to shiver.” she nodded towards your general direction and took a step back. <<elseif $fake is 3>>\ <<set $y_rel to 1>>\ <<set $k_rel to 5>>\ Kael’thalas wrapped his coat around you, and you immediately felt a wave of relief wash over you. It was a bit silly, since they couldn't see you anyway, but you didn't particularly want to frolic naked through the forest. “Thank you.” you said finally and started buttoning the coat. The lord nodded as he stepped back. “You’re welcome.” <</if>>\ Once you were mostly decent, you followed the pair into the forest ahead. There was really little option for you, stranded with no memories in a land you may not know anything about. You could use a bath and some clothes and maybe some food and hopefully you’ll start recalling something sooner or later. Walking slightly behind them, you notice their ears, the tips of them elongated and you once again instinctively touch your own, fingers trailing over the curved surface. They talked as if you were from a different land, so were they not human as well? You could remember nothing about your past and how you got in your current situation, but one fact was clear to you, you were human, it was the only ‘thing’ you knew you could be. Before you could inquire them about it, you reached the edge of the forest and were startled by the creatures that emerged from it. They were huge, covered in what looked like scales, with long necks, four legs that could easily crush any of you and pairs of massive wings tucked to their sides. One of the creatures was a beautiful emerald green, the bigger one was a deep crimson. Both were staring at you with menacing yellow eyes. “I gather you’ve never seen a dragon before?” “Dragon…” You echoed, the word familiar yet distant at the same time. You couldn't tell if you forgot about these beasts or if you just never knew enough about them to begin with. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard the word.“ By the way everyone was silent, you imagine it was not the normal response they usually get. “I know. She has no memories.” the blonde suddenly said, head turning towards the red //’dragon’//. “It will be faster if we fly to the manor. Kradox and Izma will happily let you ride with one of us.” The green dragon snorted, but didn’t make any other moves. “Who do you want to go with? Mine has a temper, but I guarantee she’ll not drop you.” That was very comforting. °•* [[Ride with Kael’thalas|Ch 1.4][$dragon to 1]] °•* [[Ride with Yvonne|Ch 1.4][$dragon to 2]]

<<if $dragon is 2>>\ <<set $y_rel to $y_rel + 5>>\ You took a step towards Yvonne and her green dragon, but stopped in your tracks as the creature turned its head towards you, a puff of smoke coming out of its nostrils. “Be nice Izma!” the redhead whined playfully and stared at the dragon for a few moments nodding. Were they… talking somehow? “But she’s lost and-” Despite Yvonne’s gentle voice, the creature let out a blood chilling screech and opened its wings, the scale of them finally setting in. Your hands go to cover your ears and you cower a little by instinct. Not that it would do you much good in this situation. You wondered yet again how you ended up in this mess and if your life before this moment had been just as thrilling. You hear Kael’thalas sigh from behind you, the gesture tired, but relaxed, not worried at all about the huffing dragon. Yvonne on her part turned towards you with a sheepish smile, hand scratching the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, she’s not being very cooperative today. Seems like you will have to ride with Kav.” She smiled brightly towards the man as she said it. <<cycle "$flavor" autoselect>> <<option "It was fine with you, you didn’t really mind either way.">> <<option "As long as you got to that manor of theirs in one piece…">> <<option "Well, the red one seemed like the better option now.">> <<option "You thought she didn’t look all that sorry but you held your tongue.">> <</cycle>> Kael’thalas smiled and blindly reached out a hand to stroke the massive red dragon’s head - a head that was almost the size of him and he was incredibly tall to begin with. The creature closed its eyes and allowed the gesture, craning its neck to where the lord’s hand hovered. The scene made you think of an overgrown puppy. Such a stark contrast to Yvonne’s dragon, but puppies came with different personalities, so why not dragons as well? You were distracted by the random thought, not knowing if you should be angry, sad or laugh maniacally at the idea that you apparently knew more about dogs than your own life. You thought you could name a few facts about felines too, as well as a bunch of other completely unrelated, and useless for your situation, topics. Nothing about yourself though. Or dragons. “Kradox won’t mind.” Kael’thalas’s voice was soft, as was the smile that graced his lips. It brought your focus back to the task at hand - flying on said dragon. As if on cue, the creature laid down to, you assumed, make your climb easier. It was anything but, its leg almost twice your size. But with a boost from Kael and some adjustments to the dragon’s leg - for which you were extremely grateful - you managed to get on its back. And then you were struck with an immediate sense of dread as you realised there was no kind of saddle or harness or anything you can hold on to. Only scales and spiky protrusions in a long line starting from the top of the head and going all the way down to its tail. You probably also shouldn’t have looked down! “It’s best if I stay behind you for your first flight. Easier to make sure you stay in place.” Kael’s hand reached out for your shoulder and guided you a little upper on the dragon’s back and motioned for you to sit between two of the spikes. It hadn't been very comforting, especially dressed in only a coat, your legs bare, until you felt his strong chest against your back, his hands on both of your sides encasing you securely between him and the dragon. Part of you still doubted he could hold on, but, as far as you remembered which was not far at all, you’ve never been on a dragon and couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would actually feel like or the possibility of such a large creature actually taking to the sky. For the most part, you attributed your willingness to go, both with these strangers and by means of dragon-flight, to your general lack of orientation and purpose at said moment. What else were you supposed to do, wander around aimlessly just hoping your memory would return? “If you’re scared, just close your eyes. We’ll be home in just a few minutes.” His voice was right by your ear, calm and soothing. Before you knew it, the dragon unfurled its wings and took to the sky. °•* [[It was magical!|Ch 1.5][$enchant to $enchant + 5, $next to 1]] °•* [[It was exhilarating!|Ch 1.5][$maiden to $maiden + 5, $next to 2]] °•* [[It was nerve wracking!|Ch 1.5][$nurture to $nurture + 5, $next to 3]] °•* [[It was practical.|Ch 1.5][$wise to $wise + 5, $next to 4]] <<elseif $dragon is 1>>\ <<set $k_rel to $k_rel + 5>>\ Kael’thalas smiled and blindly reached out a hand to stroke the massive red dragon’s head - a head that was almost the size of him and he was incredibly tall to begin with. The creature closed its eyes and allowed the gesture, craning its neck to where the lord’s hand hovered. The scene made you think of an overgrown puppy. Such a stark contrast to Yvonne’s dragon, but puppies came with different personalities, so why not dragons as well? You were distracted by the random thought, not knowing if you should be angry, sad or laugh maniacally at the idea that you apparently knew more about dogs than your own life. You thought you could name a few facts about felines too, as well as a bunch of other completely unrelated, and useless for your situation, topics. Nothing about yourself though. Or dragons. “Kradox won’t mind.” Kael’thalas’s voice was soft, as was the smile that graced his lips. It brought your focus back to the task at hand - flying on said dragon. As if on cue, the creature laid down to, you assumed, make your climb easier. It was anything but, its leg almost twice your size. But with a boost from Kael and some adjustments to the dragon’s leg - for which you were extremely grateful - you managed to get on its back. And then you were struck with an immediate sense of dread as you realised there was no kind of saddle or harness or anything you can hold on to. Only scales and spiky protrusions in a long line starting from the top of the head and going all the way down to its tail. You probably also shouldn’t have looked down! “It’s best if I stay behind you for your first flight. Easier to make sure you stay in place.” Kael’s hand reached out for your shoulder and guided you a little upper on the dragon’s back and motioned for you to sit between two of the spikes. It hadn't been very comforting, especially dressed in only a coat, your legs bare, until you felt his strong chest against your back, his hands on both of your sides encasing you securely between him and the dragon. Part of you still doubted he could hold on, but, as far as you remembered which was not far at all, you’ve never been on a dragon and couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would actually feel like or the possibility of such a large creature actually taking to the sky. For the most part, you attributed your willingness to go, both with these strangers and by means of dragon-flight, to your general lack of orientation and purpose at said moment. What else were you supposed to do, wander around aimlessly just hoping your memory would return? “If you’re scared, just close your eyes. We’ll be home in just a few minutes.” His voice was right by your ear, calm and soothing. Before you knew it, the dragon unfurled its wings and took to the sky. °•* [[It was magical!|Ch 1.5][$enchant to $enchant + 5, $next to 1]] °•* [[It was exhilarating!|Ch 1.5][$maiden to $maiden + 5, $next to 2]] °•* [[It was nerve wracking!|Ch 1.5][$nurture to $nurture + 5, $next to 3]] °•* [[It was practical.|Ch 1.5][$wise to $wise + 5, $next to 4]] <</if>>

You felt the creature’s muscles tense first, then felt the wind blowing in your face, the pit in your stomach growing as you ascended, practically bolted up with a quick and powerful push from the dragon you were sitting on. A few seconds of gut wrenching panic… …and then you were gliding through the air! <<if $next is 1>>\ It was like nothing you could have imagined, your eyes going wide in wonder at the majestic creature. It was graceful in a way that was remarkable for a being of its size, beautiful wings stretching in languid motions. You relished in the freeing sensation of air rushing through your $hairlength hair. <<elseif $next is 2>>\ It felt strangely good, empowering in a way that was hard to explain for you with so little knowledge of the world. You let one of your hands trace the scales beneath it, feeling the strength the creature emanated. You couldn’t help but wonder what else it was capable of other than flying. <<elseif $next is 3>>\ You shut your eyes tightly, fingers digging into Kael’thalas’s arms for support as air rushed around you, messing with your $hairlength hair and ringing in your ears. But both him and the dragon were calm and steady all around you, and they passed some of that unwavering confidence to you. You chanced to open your eyes and marvel at the world around you. <<elseif $next is 4>>\ You had to admit, it was very convenient to fly on such a creature. After the initial shock of being airborne, you dared a glance at the majestic creature. You admired its strong wings, flapping ever so rarely with ease, and you imagined it could cover quite the distance without much effort. You wondered if dragons were common and made a note to inquire about it. <</if>>\ You spot Yvonne and her green dragon, Izma, soaring into the clouds above, doing little spins and showing off. To your surprise, Kradox didn’t fly as high, keeping a short yet noticeable distance from the ground, most likely for your own peace of mind. You passed over a dense forest that spun for as far as you could see, the foliage so densely packed that you could not make up the ground beneath. Instead, at the speed you were travelling, it looked more like an emerald ocean. You thought you spotted movement from the corner of your eye, a ripple in the otherwise calm surface, but when you turned your head the crowns of the trees were still. The forest gave way to open fields, some pristinely green, others filled with golden wheat and other vegetables. One might have been filled with grapevines, but you couldn’t be sure from the distance. Small villages were clustered around the fields, winding roads connecting them. There were even some carts being pulled along them, but you couldn’t make out much else. And then the land ended, plunging into a vast drop. The world below was a wasteland, or so it looked like from all the way up there. Endless sand dunes, shimmering rather beautifully under the sun, patches of giant shadows spotting the endless blank canvas. The dragon’s wings flapped again as it reached higher, a new floating island coming into view. You spotted thick vines, curling and reaching out between some other, smaller islands. Kradox got close to the underside as he glided up with ease, small chunks unearthing from between the exposed, thick, deep-seated roots. Whatever those belonged to must have been ancient and huge to reach out so far beneath the actual surface of the island. Despite all your silent observations, the flight hadn’t lasted long and you were landing on the next floating island before you became too comfortable on the dragon’s back. The creature opened its wings wide and flapped them a few times as it lowered to the ground. The shift in position, as well as your distraction as you marvelled again at the display of power, made you unaware where exactly you had arrived. Once grounded, the lord helped you get off Kradox, his graceful movements a wonder of their own since the blinds over his eyes obstructed his vision of your surroundings. You found yourself in a large courtyard. Even with the two dragons there the place still felt large - from your rough estimations it could easily fit at least four more of the majestic beings without completely cruising some of the decorations closer to the house - an immense water fountain, some stone benches and hundreds of flowers, all in bloom, spilling from their beds and ports in explosions of vibrant petals and leaves. Honeysuckle covered most of the wrought iron fence that enclosed everything, except the towering gates where you could admire the intricate foliage patterns. What you assumed were two guards stood on each side, long spears in their hands and also wearing masks. Theirs were simpler with no gems or intricate embellishments, but were impressive all the same - silver in colour and depicting identical wolves. A rock path lead towards the entrance of the house, clovers sprouting between the slabs. The building itself stood proudly in the centre and it was a sight to behold. Something between a manor and a castle, white rock columns that supported pink climbing roses and tall floor to ceiling windows. White and lilac wisteria were sprouting on the right side of the wall, framing the pristine glasses. The massive steps leading to the house were lined with tall flower pots in various pastel colours. It was all put together and chaotic at the same time, a wonderful display of nature harmoniously blending with the lives of the people there. As if on cue, the doors opened and a woman came out, a bronze owl mask covering half her face. She was tall and lithe, pointy ears poking from behind her long brown hair. Before she could say anything, a handful of children ran past her and surrounded your companions, bombarding them with questions. “You’re back!” “Did you bring us anything?” “Will you take us flying? “Is there someone new with you?” “Someone from the village?” “She smells different?” “From another court then?” The dragons took flight while Yvonne herded the kids away, promising a trip to some lake later on. A chuckle sounded from beside you, and when you turned your gaze you were greeted by Kael’thalas’s soft smile as he ‘watched’ the scene unfold. You imagined it was something of a common occurrence. “Welcome home.” the woman said, her voice rich and open. You knew the words were not directed at you, but you felt them resonate with something within. There was nothing familiar about this place, if anything it was more foreign than the meadow you woke up in. You stole a glance again at the smiling lord, the children jumping around Yvonne, the lithe woman in the owl mask, the splendour of the flowers surrounding you and the sweet smell that filled the fresh spring air. If nothing came of your missing memories… you could maybe make it your home, in time. You thought you would like that very much. [[Next|Ch 1.6]]

!Chapter 1 ~ A year of bliss //''One month later, Taelreth, the 12th of Thamthar''// Dovi had been the first friend you made in the Forest Court. The female was a half-dryad, a lineage which made her skin tough and durable like bark. She was anything but, more akin to a literal ray of sunshine if you ever encountered one. Her mask was of dark silver and it was shaped like a ferret, like all the servants in the kitchen wore. It looked terribly out of place, oppressing, as it was matched with her warm colours, brown skin and green vine-like hair. Bubbly and energetic, she made it her mission to educate you about the world around you. And she had a lot to teach you. That past month or so in the Forest had been wild. You felt like a toddler seeing and learning about the world for the first time. Thankfully everyone was patient with you, from the ruler of the lands you were in, High Lord Kael’thalas, to his general Yvonne and all the other people in the manor. They were all very diligent in explaining everything when you seemed unsure, sometimes excited to show you things they thought you may not be familiar with. Which had been basically everything. Everyone except the High Priestess Ianna, her unseeing owl eyes seeming to judge you whenever you were in the same room. Her owl mask had intrigued you, as it was one of the sole three that were unique, along Ynonne’s fox shaped one and Kael’thalas’s golden leaves. Everyone else shared the same animal, wolf for sentries, ferret for kitchen staff, doe for the maids and so on. It didn’t bother you too much that she didn’t seem to share the same enthusiasm about your presence in the Forest Court as the others. Having to learn almost everything about the world around you tended to keep you busy and focused on different things. Besides, your paths didn’t cross much or often, but when they did, she was never openly rude to you. Most of the time she was just distant and perhaps untrusting. You could understand that much. °•* [[On rare occasions though, she was enigmatic, but almost friendly.|Ch1.7]]

!//Interlude I - Oly’rineth// The rain fell heavy against the unfamiliar roof, phantom fingers tapping, claws scraping. The fire in the hearth burned low, crackling softly, throwing long orange shadows that danced along the wooden beams above. Nestled under a thick quilt, the little girl looked up as her mother sat beside her, candle in hand, face half-lit, half-lost to darkness. “Mama,” the girl whispered, “when are we going back home?” Her mother smiled faintly and brushed a curl from her daughter's forehead, but the shadows flickering in her eyes gave no comfort. “Soon, my love,” she said. “Your father will return and all will be well again.” “Veren says they aren’t coming back. That the Heart-Stealers got all of them…” “Oh, don’t listen to that boy,” her mother snapped. “He’s always inventing //something//, spewing nonsense to scare you all.” She tried to wave away the thoughts, but her daughter’s wide eyes made her pry further. “What else did he fill your head with this time?” “Just stories about them, that they’re not like the wolves or bears of the forest.” the little girl said. “Not like the things you can hear in the woods. These ones are quiet. Patient.” She lowered her voice. The fire popped. “They are calling them Heart-Stealers. You won’t hear them coming. You won’t see their faces. Not really. Just a shadow, maybe. A breath against your cheek. They come when the moon is high and the wind sounds like someone whispering your name, luring you into their clutches.” The girl tucked herself deeper into the blanket as she repeated the words like a poem. Her mother paused for a breath, as if frozen in time, before another smile twisted on her beautiful face. “My, what an imagination you kids have.” Another pause, as she smoothed over the quilt, wrapping it tighter around her daughter. Finally her eyes met the girl’s, wild and determined, as if willing the next words to be true. “You listen to me, Oly. Those are weak creatures, greedy ugly beings that lusted for too much power and got punished in return. The Weaver took their magic once, they will suffer the consequences once again.” “But…” Oly’s voice was low, almost a whisper. "Didn't that just make them want to hunt us even more?” Her mother’s eyes widened, mouth opening to contest, but the words died on her tongue, lips pressing into a thin line. “Perhaps. But they are weakened, giving us an advantage. It’s harder now for them to harvest us or any of the other creatures.” She let out a long sigh, shaking her head, and softening the stern face. “But don’t you worry your little gemheart, my love. We are safe here. And we will be back home before you know it.” “So none of what Veren said is true?” The girl pressed on clutching the warm blanket, eyes heavy, but mind bright. “They don’t collect our gemhearts?” “No, that much is true…” “And then what?” Her eyes closed, head in her mother’s lap as she wove her gentle fingers through her hair. “Then,” the mother said softly, “you grow cold. Slowly. Like frost creeping over the inside of a window. You don’t care if your brother cries. You don’t feel sad when you break a promise. You don’t miss anyone when they’re gone.” “That’s scary.” The girl’s lip trembled, nestled there against her mother, her voice lulling her to sleep, in a strange cabin. The last place where she truly felt safe. “It can be peaceful too. Like the glade right after a snowstorm, everything so still and un-” Her mother’s words drifted as she fell into a peaceful slumber, warm and loved, not fully conscious of the threat looming outside those borrowed walls. Unaware that she would taste that bitter coldness in less than a fortnight when she would learn it the hard way… [[…there was rarely anything peaceful about death.|Interlude 1.2]]

The words echoed in her mind as she stared through the blur of tears at her mother’s corpse, chest split open and gem crudely butchered out. Cold, like frost creeping over a window. Uncarying, unfeeling. //‘You don’t miss anyone when they’re gone.’// And that was true, her mother had escaped the mortal coil, abandoned the attachments she formed in this life. But she forgot to mention how Oly’rineth herself would miss the frozen ones, how her gemheart was being shattered to pieces despite being tucked away safely in her chest. How lost and scared and stranded she would feel instead, the emotions doubled as if she had to carry them for her hollowed mother as well. And how lonely it would all be. How sudden. She wiped the tears away with haste, leaving her eyes sore and reddened. Her vision cleared and hands wound up into tight fists at her side. She burned that image into her memory, what became of her mother. What would eventually become of her, if she wasn’t strong enough. Brave enough. It was then, with jaw clenched and tear stained cheeks, that she decided she didn’t like being prey. Didn’t like the life they had until then, hidden, cowering in fear and waiting for the very thing that made them alive be taken, desecrated. She had to become the hunter, the monster that makes things go bump into the night. //Their// children would be telling stories of her instead. //Unbound.// She would chase away those heart stealing wretches and punish them herself if ‘God’ wasn’t doing anything about them. A sneer fell on her chapped lips, nails digging into her palms, drawing blood in her fury, sealing her resolve. //Unyielding.// 'All that power, and The Weaver was doing what? Just watching them suffer? Waiting to snap the thread of one life after another?' She supposed it made sense, it was a part of Their Trinity. Death before Rebirth. Maybe this was just the reckoning, the world falling apart before it set itself back together. //Unbreakable.// Her eyes lifted towards the Heavens, towards the Halls of the Many-Faced Weaver. And swore vengeance. [[Next|PR 1.1]]

A dictionary for things Wisp Glossary - WIP [[Return to Game|$return]]

You recall how you almost stumbled into her on the first days in the manor, your attention fully in a book Dovi gave you about the different creatures in the land. Ianna had stopped in front of you, those blank eyes seeming to stare through you. Her head cocked, the gesture oddly bird-like. A ''halo of pale ethereal flowers'' bloomed around her head as she seemed to regard you. They circled her, glowing softly in shades of ''emerald, gold'' and ''pale violet''. “What are those?” “You will have to be more specific, dear.” Her face, as much of it you could see, was youthful, but her voice had an ancient tone to it, wise but tired. “There are flowers spinning above you, translucent and radiating. Some are green-” “Others golden? A few violet perhaps?” “Yes. What are they?” She smiled, a crooked twist of her thin lips. Without half her face visible it was hard to guess the exact emotion she was conveying. “No one told you about wisps? I suppose, since we cannot sense them, the thought might have not crossed anyone’s mind.” She stretched her hand upwards, then stopped. “Alas, these are ''Wisps''. Some say they are the Weaver’s way of showing their presence. Others see them just as manifestations of our strongest emotions, each with a different representation.” “What do you think?” You found yourself asking more now that the woman seemed to be in a talkative mood. “Both.” Her smile grew wider. “They clearly react to our emotions, but I do believe they are God-set. A way for the Weaver to partake in our joys and sorrows.” “I think I saw something similar before, on that first day, before I came here. <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ They were like little beacons of light. They pulsed with golden, white and violet hues, almost matching my heartbeats.” <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ Like a red streak make of crackling flames. It was moving quickly in all directions.” <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ They were like little shadow swirls, circling around me. A bit unsettling as they shifted and moved away whenever I looked at them.” <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ It's as if rain had stopped midair, if the droplets were made if iridescent gems.”<</if>>\ “It’s normal, your emotions must have been running quite high.” she nodded, arms crossing, a slender finger tapping her arm as she gathered her thoughts. <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ “''Awewisps'' are common, but more so in children. It is sometimes hard as adults to find that same sense of wonder and curiosity we did as when young.” <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ “''Angerwisps'' are some of the most common ones, emotions we may feel on a daily basis. But for one to attract Wisps, yours must have been remarkably potent.” <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ “''Fearwisps'' are some of the most common ones, emotions we may feel on a daily basis. But for them to attract Wisps, yours must have been remarkably potent.” <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ “''Numbwisps'' are rather rare. The utter hollowness you must have felt in that moment must have been remarkable.” <</if>>Her tone all serious and poised as she calmly explained. “What about the ones above you, what do they mean?” She didn’t answer immediately, her head turning away from you even if you couldn’t see most of her face, arms wrapping slightly tighter around herself. She offered a single word, with no further explanation as she glided away from you. °•* [[“Hope.”|Ch1.8]]

The memory fades as Dovi drops a tin bowl. You often found yourself in the kitchen with her, either helping her through her chores or flipping through books from the giant library the manor offered. It was one of those days, particularly lazy and warm for Taelreth, the season slowly changing into the warm months of Caelreth, as you trailed after your half-dryad friend with the tome you were engrossed in this week. You let your fingers trace over the map spread open on the huge book in your lap, legs dangling. The land was called ''Aequrion'' and it had been split over 4000 years ago into the Mortal and Undying Lands, Humans and the Kindred, naturally separated by a long and barren plateau. The depiction on the map showed numerous chasms that also made crossing it tricky, especially since there was no actual way to keep track of the ever changing earthquake prone terrain. Dovi mentioned creatures lurking in the depths of those chasms, but since no one really ventures there, the descriptions were inconsistent and far between. Flipping the page, there’s a depiction of the Weaver, their Many-Faced One-God. You’ve seen hundreds of them, some more curious than others. Most of them pictured the Holy Trinity as a separate subset of three graceful beings, Birth, Life and Death, reincarnations of the Weaver, avatars by which the Weaver God Themself walked the earth. This one image, though, was particularly stylized, showing one figure that seemed to split brutally into three different entities, cloth and sinew pulling each of them back to the original. There were three hidden faces, still partly merged and distorted, but with clear open maws, and six spindly hands haphazardly pulling at a thick red string - the only color in an otherwise smokey gray image. You daringly °•* [[You often found solace in praying to the One-God|Ch 1.9][$god to 1]] °•* [[You tried praying once, but felt nothing.|Ch 1.9][$god to 2]] °•* [[You hoped They were real, but had no proof yet.|Ch 1.9][$god to 3]] °•* [[You quite enjoyed the holidays and traditions, but didn't believe in this Weaver character.|Ch 1.9][$god to 4]] °•* [[You felt too removed from the world to have an opinion on such a being.|Ch 1.9][$god to 5]] °•* [[You had no opinion on the matter.|Ch 1.9][$god to 6]]

<<if $god is 1>>\ There was a little temple on the edge of the manor, dedicated mostly to the Parton God of the Forest Court, but The Weaver was a predominant figure as a whole there as well. You find yourself there often, when thoughts and worries become too much. The smell of incense, jasmine and wood, the cool air and the little chimes, <<if $bg is "cultist">>they all felt almost familiar. <<else>>all made for a relaxing place there your mind could empty.<</if>> It also helped to think there was a force out there greater than you, one that might have answers to your situation. <<elseif $god is 2>>\ There was a little temple on the edge of the manor, dedicated mostly to the Parton God of the Forest Court, but The Weaver was a predominant figure as a whole there as well. You went there once, the jasmine incense and clinging chimes made for a pleasant experience. But you felt no connection whatsoever to any ‘higher power’. Be it for your lack of memories or not, you just couldn’t bring yourself to //believe//. <<elseif $god is 3>>\ You wanted to believe in the Weaver, you really did, but there was just no undeniable proof of it. The fact that it was not even clear how many ‘faces’ they could take was also discouraging. They were depicted as this Holy Trinity, but they were also just one entity… that could appear to any individual looking different. You hoped they were real, but they were making it rather difficult to ‘look’ for them. <<elseif $god is 4>>\ Dovi had talked to you about some rather fun sounding holidays and traditions, most including dancing and eating, but the actual religious part of them was hard to swallow. This Many-Faced One-God was a bit too fantastical for your liking, the bizarre depiction in your lap proof of it. You understood the concept, they were a being beyond mere mortal and immortal comprehension… And yet, you just couldn’t force yourself to believe in a 3 headed, 6 armed entity that was in charge of every living thing’s life. <<elseif $god is 5>>\ It had only been a little over a month since you even learned about the existence of The Weaver. And frankly, you had some other things to think and worry about, like your general place in this world, being the only human in a land filled with ethereal immortal fae. You supposed the idea of a God was not that far fetched, but there had just been too little time for you to ponder too much on this topic. <<elseif $god is 6>>\ Honestly, you just didn’t care much about a God figure. They could be real, they could not be. What did it even change in the end? You were still memoryless in a land you barely understood. Praying would not change that. Learning and experiencing the world around you was the way to go, so you did just that!<</if>>\ Dovi went on to explain again, in more detail, the three Kindred courts that ruled the Undying lands: Sun, Moon and Forest. “It is said that the Sun Court is the closest to our creator, the first and eldest children of the Many-Faced Weaver. They are born of ''Ignis, The Flame of Will'', the patron goddess of passion, courage and revolutionaries. She represents Life, the hands that measure our thread, but also the one that judges our actions most harshly.” Dovi explained as she kneaded some cake batter. “They are more religious than the rest of us, a lot more celebrations for both the Weaver and Ignis. They also claim their High Lord is a descendant of their goddess herself.” she scoffed at that last part, voice laced with amusement. There was a depiction of Ignis, dark skin branded by golden markings, wrapped in a flowy white robe. Blazing red hair blew in the wind behind her like a mane of angry flames and she looked straight ahead with burning golden eyes, one hand stretched above her. It looked like she was holding up the sun. “The Moon Court was created by ''Tenebris, The Veil of Secrets'', the cold queen of the skies, mother of the moon and stars, too fair and terrible for any mortal’s eyes. She represents deception, illusion, mystery, but also knowledge withheld and secrets buried. She is Death, the hands that decide to cut the thread of life when you least expect it. Like their patron, the Moon Court kindred are a more secluded bunch, reserved and mostly staying on their side of the mountains, in their fortress city.” She stopped kneading the dough and considered her words for a second. “I doubt you’ll meet any, but in the unfortunate event that you do cross paths with a Moon fae… be wary of them. They are always more than they seem.” The next portrait was of a hooded figure, long milky white hair falling from behind deep blue fabric. The slim hand that was shown was a pale blue, peppered with bright white sport like constellations. Two silver lights shone from the darkness under the hood, like twin stars. “Onto more pleasant things, the wild folk of the Forest Court are blessed by ''Virel, The Flow of Life'', the Great Hunter, King of the Winds and patron of dance and music and of growth and fertility. Ours is a culture of prosperity and revels, warm days filled with the bounty of the forest and chill nights spent by the fires, with good wines and food, and even better company.” There was a warmth in her voice as she talked about the patron of her own court, an almost sing-song cadence. “He represents Rebirth, the start of a new thread, the hands that pick where it all starts anew.” Their god was depicted as a mountain of a man, slightly tan skin and bulging muscles, wild blonde hair filled with leaves, two massive antlers springing from between the golden strands. Despite his intimidating stature and giant axe strapped on his back, he had a boisterous smile on his face and he looked as if he was handing out fruits, in bundles of grapes and berries. “Forest seems most fortunate.” you say, looking over the images again and taking in each of their deities' depictions. <<if $bg is "cultist">>The pages blur for a moment, the colors bleeding into one another, the three gods merging and dissolving back into their original state. Your head throbs, for just a heartbeat, just enough to make you wonder if you imagined the whole thing. Certainly not enough for Dovi to notice anything off.<</if>> “We are! I suppose it’s a matter of getting used to, but I couldn't imagine living up in the mountains.” She faked a shiver, rubbing her arms comically. “The weather here gets hot sometimes, but I hear the halls of the Sun palace are as fiery as their Lady’s burning eyes. And the Moon fortress is stalked by all kinds of creatures.” You flip through a few more pages, scrunching your nose at the various images of minor deities. Dovi laughed from the counter, sensing your confusion. It was bizarre how they all did that. Despite their lack of vision they always seemed to //sense// what was happening around them. She once explained their other senses were heightened and already sharper than the ones of humans. <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ It seemed like an amazing thing to learn! Good for them for adapting. \ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ You wondered sometimes if it was a trick you could also learn, in time. \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ You were glad they found a way to adapt to their circumstances. You couldn't imagine living in complete darkness. \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ It still felt as though they had some other trick up their sleeves. <</if>>\ “You don’t need to bother yourself with any of the other deities, there must be hundreds of them, each born out of the emotions and needs of the people, each a different face of the Weaver.” °•* [[Next|Ch 1.10]]

“Did any of them create humans? Or other beings?” The question seemed to startle her for a heartbeat. She started shaping the dough into little circles as she answered. “Yes and no. The lesser creatures, and the dragons can and will debate you on the word ‘lesser’, were created by the main three aspects of the Weaver. Dragons and harpies are of Ignis, leviathans and nagas of Tenebirs, unicorn and dryads like the ones in my ancestry are of Virel.” She stopped for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She opened her mouth, closed it in a small grimace before finally continuing. “Humans, on the other hand, have a different… well, actually two, they have two deities. Might and Mercy, they call them, I believe. A cursed pair, jealous of their Siblings’ creations. It is said they wanted to make something greater, blessed them with ambition beyond their reach, but in their haste did not give them the tools to reach such heights.” You ponder on the explanation, <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>feeling quite saddened about it. There was so much beauty and joy in creating something, that you couldn’t really grasp why someone would do it out of jealousy. <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>feeling a bit slighted by this explanation. If this so-called God didn’t give you as a human any ‘tools’, you could certainly get them yourself. <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>> the animosity between the races feeling more understandable now. You could easily see the humans starting to resent the kindred for constantly calling them less, inferior beings that //lacked// some God-given gift. <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>intrigued by this little piece of history. Something was amiss in it, why would these so-called gods rush to finish something they wanted to perfect? Either the records were wrong, or these entities were themselves lacking.<</if>> Dovi waved her hand quickly, dispelling your thoughts and you wonder if she felt the slight shift in your mood. Or was it just that you went quiet? “Most of it is probably rubbish anyway. Only the Sun fae really believe all this, the majority of us just enjoy the holidays. And besides, it all supposedly happened so long ago that surely things got twisted along the way. The dragons even have a completely different take on the events.” °•* [[Next|Ch 1.10.2]]

“Do you not believe in the Weaver?” you find yourself asking, closing the book, but fingers still tracing the cover. “There’s a power out there, I’d like to think, but it’s been hard to believe in anything these past few decades.” She looked old for a moment, haggard, her normally straight shoulders sagging with a weight you didn't quite understand. You had gathered something happened some 40 years prior to the Forest kin, something to do with their masks, but it was like they were refusing to talk about it. Most of the information you had was from a travelling kindred, an old naga merchant from the Moon court, but she was more cryptic than helpful. “Terrible fate that one, just terrible what happened to your High Lord and his court. But at least they were spared the horrors on the mountain.” She looked into the distance, still shaking her head, her forked tongue flickering over her bottom lip. “At least for one more decade. But perhaps you’ll be able to do something about it, eh?” You didn’t get much useful information out of her, but she did manage to sell you a crystal charm. Dovi set the cake in the oven and turned to you, a smile finally back on her thin lips. “If you want to read more about the different gods, Our High Lord has books about it in his private library. I’m sure he’d be fine with you checking them, if only to see if they spark any memories.” The idea wasn’t bad, even if nothing you did so far triggered any memories. It was worth a shot, some other day. “Yes, I’ll ask him later.” °•* [[Next|Ch 1.12]]

//''Taelreth, the 21st of Thamthar''// You open your eyes and it takes you several seconds to register that you are not in your room. You remember vividly the day before, your lessons with Dovi, helping Yvonne with little errands around the manor and a rare sighting of the High Lord, his voice rumbling as he asked you if you were settling in alright. You remember the bath your maid Nirinia prepared, the warmth engulfing your body, the cherry blossom oils soft on your skin. And you definitely know you fell asleep in your incredibly comfortable bed, the last thought you had being about how perfect the pillow cradled your tired head. Looking around now, you are sitting on a stone bench, in a small garden of white stone and blue roses, the hedges obscuring your view beyond. Tall ornate columns covered in ivy are on either side of you. Moonlight spills across a courtyard of cracked marble, giving it an air of mystery. It looked oddly similar to the gardens in the Forest Court, you could have mistakenly thought you wandered off to discover a hidden nook, if not for chill in the air and a lingering weariness. //It would be beautiful, if it were not so still.// The world is silent and eerie, like watching it through a frosted window, your vision blurry at the edges. Nothing moves, nothing seems to make a sound even as you shift on the bench to turn around, the rumpling of your nightgown muffled. You stand and notice a man at the edge of a pale fountain, the water sparkling as it falls, but ever quiet. His back is turned, straight and rigid, his deep blue cloak moving in the wind that doesn't blow. Armor glints beneath it, black with gilded edges, worn but regal. His hands are behind him, gauntlets tightly clasped. Just like the world around you, he too is as still as a statue. “Who are you?” you ask, testing your voice, half thinking it will not make a sound. Surprisingly, it carries over. There's an echo to it, barely there, but unsettling nonetheless. He turns slowly, surprised, but not startled. He’s younger than you expect from his stiff pose and bulky armour, with a youthful face and kind brown eyes, even with the shadows tucked beneath them. His hair is short and dark, messy and slightly damp, as if he’d just taken off a helmet you don’t see. “How are you here?” His voice is low, but there’s a gentleness to it as he regards you with raised eyebrows. “Where is ‘here’?” you shrug, risking another glance around you. You can’t make anything beyond those hedges, as if the entire world consists of this one place, this small garden trapped in a frosted globe. “You’re in my dream.” He smiles then, a boyish thing that lights up his entire face. You study him for a heartbeat, his dark eyebrows and slightly downturned eyes giving him a gentle expression, softening the sharp angles of his nose and jaw. Your eyes flicker to his ears. His very round ears. “You’re human.” <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ you gasp, surprised and elated to find someone like you! \ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ you grin, already feeling a little more relaxed in the presence of your own kin. \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ you smile, already feeling a sense of kinship. \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ you raise an eyebrow, studying him in turn. <</if>>\ “So are you.” he nods, but his smile falters. “What else would we be?” A flicker of something sharp flashes across his face. He watched you, an intensity in his eyes that was not present before. “I thought there were no humans in the Forest Court.” “You’re in the Forest Court?” You nod, the uncertainty of this whole situation rushing in again, making you shiver. The man watched you, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face. “You are in their realm, yet your dream brushes mine. The distance alone should make that impossible.” The man circles you, arms still clasped back as his eyes search for something. “You're not supposed to be there nor //here//.” He finally says, but there is no bite to his words, no demand that you leave. “I’m not exactly sure where I belong.” “You’d certainly be better off with your own kin, don’t you think?” “I couldn’t say, you are the first human I’ve encountered.” “Fascinating.” he adds quickly, a cryptic smile on his face, but the word is almost devoid of any emotion. “And are you sure they haven’t done this to you? Mind control and altering memories is within their powers.” “To what end? They’ve been nothing but nice to me…” “Perhaps, but do keep in mind they tend to bend the truth while claiming they cannot lie.” “They can’t lie?” “They haven’t told you this? Interesting.” He turns, already fading with the mist. ''“Wait! Who are you?”'' The globe shatters. The garden fractures. You sit up in your soft bed, in the silence of your own room, heart pounding and throat dry as if you’d been shouting. A thin sheen of sweat covers your brow, a drop trailing down your temple. //‘A dream.’// you think, exhaling. You grab the glass of water from the nightstand, the one you always bring when you prepare for sleep. You replay the events in your mind, worried the dream might fade away, but it stays with you, vivid and strange. It was fitting that the first human you ‘met’ was a fiction of your imagination. You sigh, relaxing back into the pillow, already drowsy again. The last thought you have as you slip back into sleep is how °•* [[cute the imaginary human was.|Ch 1.13][$r_first to 1]] °•* [[hot your imaginary human was.|Ch 1.13][$r_first to 2]] °•* [[you hoped to actually meet some real humans one day.|Ch 1.13][$r_first to 3]] °•* [[nice the bed felt.|Ch 1.13][$r_first to 4]]

You woke to sunlight filtering through gauzy curtains, pale gold spilling across your face. For a heartbeat, you weren’t sure where you were, the scent of frosted roses still carried from the night before. The dream clung to you, its edges soft but heavy, the memory of soft brown eyes and dark curls dissolving as the real world pressed in. <<if $r_first is 1>>\ But the last thought you had as you slipped back into sleep lingered – how ridiculously cute the imaginary human was. The kind of cute that shouldn’t have stuck with you. He was all boyish grin and messy curls, that earnest look that slipped past your guard before you knew it. You tell yourself it’s absurd, that he’s nothing but a product of your wandering mind, but you can’t quite forget the way his laughter sounded, how it brushed against your chest and lingered there, light as pollen. <<elseif $r_first is 2>>\ But the last thought you had as you slipped back into sleep lingered – how unfairly attractive that imaginary human was, with sharp jaw and quick words, the kind of beauty that felt dangerous. You can still feel the heat of his gaze, the way it pulled at you, both invitation and warning. It shouldn’t matter. He’s a dream. But your pulse doesn’t listen to reason, and even as sleep takes you, your mind betrays you with the memory of his smirk. <<elseif $r_first is 3>>\ But the last thought you had as you slipped back into sleep lingered – how you hoped to meet real humans someday. Not just fleeting shadows in a dream, but real people. To see with your own eyes if they matched the stories the Kindred had of them, creatures bound by greed and ambition. The human man in your dreams felt too vivid, too alive and joyful to be malicious in any way. And maybe, if humans like him truly existed, you wouldn’t feel so isolated. <<elseif $r_first is 4>>\ The bed felt nice as you stretched the sleep away, soft and grounding after so many restless nights. The morning sun’s warmth kissed your skin, and for once, the silence didn’t press down like a weight. You let your mind drift, the imaginary human’s smile fading into the rhythm of your heartbeat. <</if>>\ The sound that finally broke the silence was a small, hesitant knock. “Come in.” you murmured, your voice still rough with sleep. The door creaked open, and Nirinia slipped in sideways, as if apologizing for existing in the same space as you. She was a //Deerfolk//, one of the ‘lesser’ Fae Dovi told you about. Her hooves, mostly hidden behind the obscene amount of ruffles on her long dark purple dress, made the faintest tap-tap against the floorboards, the careful rhythm of something that lived half a breath from flight. Ashy-white antlers poked from beneath her dark brown hair. One of them was broken near the base, the stump having now a cute pink bowed ribbon as a decoration. “Good morning, my lady.” she says softly, her tone careful, reverent almost in its own way. She gave a small nod and set a small basin of water on the vanity. The steam carried the faint scent of rosemary and something sweet. Her big, dark eyes then flicked to the window, and with one swift motion, she crossed the room and pulled the curtains wide. Light flooded in, warm and golden. You winced, shielding your eyes. “Too bright?” Nirinia asked, already half-turning to shut them back, her ears twitching. “No, it’s fine.” you forced a smile, though your chest still carried that dull ache of a restless sleep, your thoughts still foggy. “Just… give me a moment.” She nodded quickly, relaxing only when she turned toward the wardrobe. Her movements were small and precise as she began to lay out your clothes for the day, fabric rustling like distant leaves. A beautiful <<cycle "$top" autoselect>> <<option "tunic" tunic>> <<option "blouse" blouse>> <</cycle>>, <<cycle "$clothes_color" autoselect>> <<option "the soft green of spring moss" soft green>> <<option "the dark green of rain-soaked pines" dark green>> <<option "the bright blue of clear skies" bright blue>> <<option "the burnt orange of dying embers" burnt orange>> <<option "the deep red of ripened cherries" deep red>> <<option "the vibrant pink of new blossoms" vibrant pink>> <<option "the pale lilac of twilight clouds" pale lilac>> <<option "the warm gold of morning sunlight" warm gold>> <<option "the muted grey of morning mist" muted grey>> <</cycle>>, and a darker <<cycle "$bottom" autoselect>> <<option "overskirt" skirt>> <<option "pair of trousers" trousers>> <</cycle>> that seemed perfectly fitted to you. She paused to smooth the fabric with gentle fingers, as though calming a nervous creature. “Did you sleep well?” she asked after a long silence, the question tentative. °•* [[Tell her about the dream.|Ch 1.14][$ndream to 1]] °•* [[Don’t tell her about the dream.|Ch 1.14][$ndream to 2]]

“What makes someone a ‘lesser’ Fae?” you ask, confused. You’ve seen different types of beings and they were all treated the same from what you could tell. “Ah, but that is a very fine question, darling. One I encourage not to ask so freely lest you want to get caught in endless debates.” she giggles and wipes her hands on her apron. “I suppose I should start with the High Fae. The first beings created by the Trinity were and still are the most powerful beings in Aequrion.” “More powerful than dragons?” “Ha, you sound just like them! They are very close, I’ll give them that, but their only advantage is their size. Take Yvonne for example, a Sun High Fae. Fire doesn’t affect her, even dragon fire. She on the other hand can make arrows of pure Light that can pierce through anything. The Moon Court High Lord can cast illusions and it is even said he can control one’s mind. Our own High Lord has a number of other powers that can give him an advantage, from Air manipulation to Regeneration and Shapeshifting. At best, the fight would end in a draw, but I would always bet on a High Fae.” “I see.” You really didn’t, it was nearly impossible to picture Yvonne, although rather muscular and capable looking, defeat a dragon. Dovi snickers, already continuing. “That being said, a dragon would sweep the floor with me, even if I am half High Fae. And here is where the comparisons begin. The High Fae were considered the epitome of beauty and purity, but only because they were the most powerful. The further you steered away from that, the weaker and more inferior one becomes. My skin, although just as soft to the touch, is a dead giveaway to my dryad ancestry. If one has a naga’s gills, or a deerfolk’s hooves, it’s a clear sign that they are not on the same power level. Some of these Fae are even tied to their habitat. Nagas and river nymphs don’t venture too far away from the body of water they call home. Full dryads are each tethered to a special tree so they rarely leave the forests.” “So the key factor is power, but appearance is what gives it away.” “Pretty much. It is a rather outdated term, but one that you might hear thrown around as an insult, especially in the Sun Court. But these days, the most powerful Fae can acknowledge we don’t hold the same strength without thinking we are beneath them.” She scratches her head for a second, the rows of leafy vines rustling. “It also, um, ‘helps’ that there are only a handful of High Fae left. Just like the number of dragons is diminishing, unfortunately.” °•* [[Next|Ch 1.11]]

<<if $ndream is 1>> “I had the oddest dream.” “Oh? Some believe dreams are messages from the Weaver.” She smiled, a small curve of her lips, but one that reflected fully in her brown eyes. “I was in a rose garden and there was someone else there too, a human man...” You tried to explain the strangeness, but before you could add anything else, she stumbled, catching herself on the edge of the dresser, all warmth leaving her gaze. She looked, for lack of better words, as if she’d seen a ghost. “Are you unwell?” you <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ jumped <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ got out <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ jumped <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ got out<</if>> out of bed to check up on her, but she stepped back, tripping again over her own hooves before straightening with a renewed vigor. “Yes, yes, I’m still standing and breathing.” she said quickly, going to busy herself with rearranging things on your vanity. “Shall I braid your hair, my lady?” <<elseif $ndream is 2>>\ You hesitated. It was a strange dream, nothing more, but something inside you wanted to keep it close to your heart, as if clinging to this one experience, be it imaginary, that was truly your own. “Well enough.” you lied, though the image of the human’s smile and bright eyes flashed behind your eyes. <<cycle "$faketell" autoselect>> <<option "You immediately felt bad about it, but there was no turning back now." 1>> <<option "The dream was probably nothing, no need to dwell on it too much." 2>> <</cycle>>\ Nirinia’s nose twitched. “I can ask Dovi to brew you some chamomile tea. It’s always helped me sleep better when thoughts become too much.” she said simply and it was probably both the longest sentences you’ve heard her string together and the most she shared with you about herself. “That would be nice, thank you.” She beams at your words, ears twitching backwards, then gestures towards the vanity. “Shall I braid your hair now, my lady?” <</if>>\ Nirinia holds up your $clothes_color $top and $bottom and as you slip into the silken fabric you try to put the oddness of the dream and awkward morning away. But a question burns on your tongue still. “Is it true Fae can’t lie?” The words tumbled out before you could second-guess them. To her credit, the Deerfolk didn’t //seem// surprised by your question, nor did her answer strike you as particularly rehearsed. “It is true, my lady. But you shouldn’t rely on it too much.” “How so?” “Words can mean different things to different people. Phrases can change meaning easily with a tone shift.” “So you find ways around it.” “I suppose. But it’s not something entirely conscious, most of the time, I think.” Your eyes search her reflection in the vanity mirror, looking intently at her face – the half that you could see behind her doe mask – as you sit in the plush chair. She must gauge your hesitation, because she hastily continues. “Why do humans lie? Is it always for some nefarious intent?” “I suppose not. <<cycle "$lies_opinion" autoselect>> <<option "But most of the times it is.”" lies are bad>> <<option "But nothing good comes from lies.”" nothing good comes from lies>> <<option "Some white lies are to protect other.”" some white lies are fine>> <<Some lie to protect themselves.”" some lie to protect themselves>><</cycle>> “It is the same for us. Everything we say is true, but it might not be the entire truth, or just a different part of it. It might be hidden in sarcasm to hide personal pain. There are rare but dangerous cases where the other truly //thinks// it is the pure truth, for it is //their truth//. Some will deflect with a question when they simply do not want to reveal too much. Others will be straightforward and say they cannot answer. There are many ways to dance around a subject, not all malicious in intent.” “Is that why no one will tell me what happened, why you all wear masks?” “No. But-” Her mouth twisted in a half snarl you never thought to see on the soft spoken Fae. Her hands stopped moving, the vial of perfumed oil in her hand held tight. “I’m sorry.” she finally said and continued her ministrations on your hair. You watched her in the mirror, the morning light catching the edge of her broken antler. °•* [[Don't ask, it might be insensitive.|Ch 1.15][$antler to 1]] °•* [[Ask how what happened to her antler.|Ch 1.15][$antler to 2]]

<<if $antler is 1>> You decide not to ask. She’s a fairly private person, not as open and talkative as Dovi who has already shared so much with you in such a short time. Perhaps you’ll ask on a different date, or Nirinia will tell you when she’s ready. The poor girl was startled enough today and the sun barely rose. Though you can’t help but notice that her hands tremble as she brushes your hair. “Are you truly alright?” She jumps at the sudden sound of your voice, taking a step back away from you. The ornate brush clatters on the hardwood floor, the only sound breaking the heavy silence that falls over the room. //Fearwisps// appeared behind her, the swirlings shifting as if made of dark smoke. “Are you scared of me?” Your voice seems to bring her out of whatever state she got into. “Of course not, my lady.” But her words were too quick, too vague and rehearsed. You didn’t want to push the subject, so you just watched her trembling hands pick up the brush, dust it with slow, methodical strokes. She takes a long, silent breath before coming back behind you, the wisps losing interest and vanishing. Neither of you spoke while she fussed over your hair, braiding some flowers into it as if the discussion never happened. Her ruffled cuffs slid down and you could see a mark on her pale wrist, raw and angry, the flesh around it swollen and puckered as if a branding iron had been pressed too long. <<if $bg is "cultist">>\ It’s rather small, but you could immediately tell it’s a spinner's loom with uneven spokes and a sun in the center, the small details of the wheel standing out. But what was more alarming was that it looked messily branded into her skin, the edges burned and reddened. At its center, the faintest impression of a sunburst had seared through, rays radiating outward but warping where the heat had blistered the flesh. It looked more like something hastily clawed than carefully crafted, uneven and raw. When Nirinia flexed her wrist you almost thought the spokes seemed to twist, the sun in the center writhing as if alive. A cruel trick of the light. <<else>>\ It’s rather small and she moves her arm before you get a better view of it so it wasn’t clear what the shape was meant to be. A circle, perhaps, or something once circular and now distorted by pain and swelling. When Nirinia moved her wrist, the angry welt seemed to twist with the motion, pulsing faintly as though something beneath the skin resented being seen. <</if>>\ After a few heartbeats she tugs the sleeve down, something you now realise she does often when nervous. You assumed it was a nervous tick, but you wonder if there’s more to it. You dare not ask her about it. “Breakfast will be ready in the hall.” She murmured. “Shall I help you get dressed?” “Yes, please.” you say simply, not wanting to prolong the strange morning. As Nirinia came up behind you, her careful fingers moving through the countless laces at the back of your garment, the last fragments of the dream slipped away leaving behind only a whisper of warmth and the faint echo of a laugh that shouldn’t have followed you into the waking world. <<elseif $antler is 2>> You nodded toward it. “Your antler… what happened to it?” The brush she held clinked too loudly on the hardwood floor as it slipped from her hand. “Ah, this old scrape?” She touched the chipped bone lightly, as though she’d forgotten it was even there. For only but a moment, her smile faltered. “You’re kind to notice, my lady, but truly, it’s nothing you should worry about.” She bent to gather the brush too quickly, her movements both careful and exaggerated. You frowned. “Did it happen here in the Forest Court?” “No.” The word was out before she could catch it. Her throat bobbed, her hands twisted the fabric between her fingers. “It was… far. And long before.” There was something in the way she said it — flat and final, like a door being quietly shut. You waited, hoping she’d go on, but she only shook her head and gave a strained little laugh. “I was careless. The woods have sharp teeth, that’s all.” Her reluctance around you, the way she froze at you mentioning a “human man” in your dreams, paired with the knowledge that she once lived close to the border… It all painted a picture you could easily guess, but didn't want to assume, that it hadn’t been claws or fangs that took that piece of her. “Nirinia…” you say her name gently, trying to turn towards her. “Was it—” She cut you off with a small, desperate smile. “Would you like me to help you get dressed, my lady? Breakfast will be ready in the hall soon.” The question was too quick, too bright, the kind used to bury things best left unspoken. So you nodded, though the room felt heavier now, quieter. Nirinia came up behind you, her fingers careful despite the slight trembling moving through the countless laces at the back of your garment. Neither of you spoke again about her broken antler. <</if>>\ °•* [[Next|Ch 1.16]]

//''Three months later Caelreth, the 37th of Igthar''// The day was soft and golden, the air thick with the scent of vibrant flowers and the low, humming song of bees weaving between the countless blooms. The sun was high above you, signalling it had been at least a few hours since the breakfast you shared with Dovi and Nirinia. “It’s just a bit further ahead, $name!” The dryad's voice rang through the trees as she pulled you along, arm looped in yours. She skipped the whole way, barely able to contain the joy radiating off of her as she expertly guided you both even with her eyes closed beneath her ferret mask. “I promise you it’s worth it!” She was showing no sign of fatigue, despite being awake from early hours of the morning to pack your picnic and the long trek uphill. Nirinia trailed behind the two of you, basket in hands, silent as a ghost. Her hooves made no sound as she glided over the soft grass, a stark contrast to Dovi’s trampling and your unsure steps. She was shy, almost skittish with everyone around her, but in past months she seemed to warm up to you and Dovi, the dryad’s sunny disposition making it easy to become friends with her. °•* [[You were much the same as Dovi, a walking ray of energy.|Ch 1.17][$maiden to $maiden + 5, $next to 1]] °•* [[You were a bit more contentious.|Ch 1.17][$enchant to $enchant + 5, $next to 2]] °•* [[Your silence and scrutiny were sometimes off putting to other.|Ch 1.17][$nurture to $nurture + 5, $next to 3]] °•* [[You were just not quite as energetic.|Ch 1.17][$wise to $wise + 5, $next to 4]]

<<if $next is 1>>\ You skipped with her the entire way, joining in when she sang little tunes. You were like two birds of a feather, the forest ringing with your giggling. <<elseif $next is 2>>\ You allowed her to pull you along, but were not going to skip and sing through the forest. Your frown did nothing to deter her mood. It might have even spurred her to be more joyful in an attempt to cheer you. <<elseif $next is 3>>\ You wanted to be merry and join her with the same enthusiasm, but this path she was taking you on was new, every corner a potential threat. Every time you started skipping, something pulled your attention to a shadowed corner, a twisting branch swaying in the wind. <<elseif $next is 4>>\ You skipped a bit with her, but grew weary of it. You did enjoy her energy, but it was sometimes too much for yourself.<</if>>\ “We’re here! Look! Look! Isn’t it beautiful?” You took the last step and stood besides Dovi, the trees and bushes making way for an incredible sight. Everything was in shades of blue and green. Mist hung in the air, cool and sweet against your skin, and the ground beneath your feet was carpeted in vibrant grass peppered with small violets. The tree trunks were covered in soft moss, bushes of hydrangea sprouting from place to place. The scent of fresh grass and sweet blossoms filled your lungs. Water that tumbled from the high rocks above, cascaded into a crystal-clear pool, framed by weeping willows, that gleamed like liquid diamonds in the sun. A //waterfall//, you knew the word, but seeing it in person was new and wonderous. A shout came from above, and before any of you could register what was happening, two figures were jumping from the hill. It was not very high, maybe a little taller than the manor, but you were still surprised to see the High Lord and his general sprinting to dive head first into the water. Yvonne’s red hair was a fiery banner as she plunged with all the reckless grace of a feline, laughing openly as Kael stood poised atop a stone outcropping, water dripping down his sculpted form, muscles gleaming under the sun. For a heartbeat, you could only stare, caught in a moment that felt private. The High Lord’s mask was still in place, but somehow, he seemed lighter here. He dove cleanly into the pool below, vanishing beneath the surface with barely a splash. When he surfaced, laughing - actual genuine laughter - it was a low, rough sound of real joy that sent a ripple through the air. For the first time, you glimpsed a different version of him. Daring. Alive. °•* [[Free.|Ch 1.18]]

“Oh, someone’s already here.” Dovi looked like a kicked puppy. You knew she had been planning this outing for the better part of the week, only to be met with this disappointing turn of events - the place being occupied. “We could come back a little later, go-” Nirinia tried to offer an alternative, but Dovi waved her off with a beaming smile. “Nonsense, they won’t mind us joining.” Your arms were again wrapped in hers, feet carrying you closer to the lake. Your friend grinned and shouted announcing your arrival, waving with too much enthusiasm. Yvonne whooped and beckoned you closer, her voice rich with mischief, while Kael only turned and nodded once. By the time you reached the shore, the two Fae had swam closer, water dripping from their long hair, highlighting every curve of their bodies. Dovi didn’t wait, colourful patchwork blanket in hand. She neatly laid it on a patch of grass close to the shore, before Nirinia set the basket on top of it. °•* [[Your eyes keep darting back to Kael’thalas, even as you helped Nirinia with the basket.|Ch 1.19][$picknick to 1]] °•* [[You greet them politely and helped Nirinia set up the picnic.|Ch 1.19][$picknick to 2]]

Your time with them had been short, around three months, so you preferred to let your friend take the lead, especially since you were in the presence of the High Lord and the General. They had been nothing but kind, but you wished to avoid any accidental blunders. You busied yourself with helping Nirinia take the goods that Dovi prepared out from the basket, laying them on the blanket for everyone. “Mind if we join you?” Dovi shouted with a familiar ease, despite already having settled the blanket. “Of course not, this is my lake as much as it is yours.” the High Lord answered with a short nod, his voice not unfriendly, but monotone. “I think it’s yours a bit more, Kael. But we appreciate the thought.” Yvonne quipped with a smirk. Your eyes ran over their bodies as the two Fae made their way fully onto the shore, water still dripping. You were surprised a bit by their tattoos, his depicting vines that twisted down his entire right arm and hers looking like flames burning from her wrists half-way to her elbows. You couldn’t deny they were beautiful. Most of the high fae you have seen so far, even with their faces half covered and blinded by the masks, possessed an unnatural glow to them, an ethereal grace, their bodies sculptured to a perfection that was sometimes unnerving, yet alluring still. Even halflings like Dovi inherited some of that elegance, ever present in the way she moved, in the tinkling sound of her voice. As a “lesser” fae, Nirina would be considered not as appealing, but there was still that haunting beauty to her, perfect ivory skin, plush lips and deep eyes that held more than they seemed to. <<if $picknick is 1>>\ But whatever gods created Kael’thalas, they did not shy away from the superlatives. He was a sight to behold even clothed and masked -- tall, muscular, his wide shoulders and strong arms making him stand out in any crowd. Now, mostly naked as the deep green loincloth hid very little, and wet, muscles rippling as he inched closer to your picnic blanket, was an entirely different sight. His long hair, darkened by the water, stuck to his lightly sun-kissed skin. The golden mask hiding his face framed it nicely, and you initially thought it added to the air of mystery the whole situation with your memory created, your past blank, their faces covered. But now, after a while spent with them, it was getting old. You wished you could see him without it, you wished you could see his eyes. Were they the same vivid green as the emeralds that adorned his cursed mask? Were they dark and stormy or a clear blue like the water behind him now. <<else>>\ You only wished you could see their entire faces, look them in their eyes when you talked and laughed with them. You wondered sometimes what colors they’d be, but never dared ask. You initially thought it added to the air of mystery the whole situation with your memory created, your past blank, their faces covered. But now, after a while spent with them, it was getting old. <</if>>\ You had asked about it, it was perhaps one of the first questions you had when it was revealed that the entire manor was wearing some kind of mask, does for the maids, wolves for the sentries, ferrets for the kitchen staff and so on. Kael’thalas, Yvonne and Ianna were the only ones with distinct patterns, but you never got an explanation for it, nor why the fae from outside the court came without one covering their faces. You gathered something had happened, decades ago, but no one was willing to tell you or didn’t know themselves. You thought maybe they didn’t trust you yet, it had been only a few months and you were the only human there. “Can you swim, $name?” Yvonne asks with the same ease she seemed to go through her everyday life, grabbing your attention back to the picnic at hand. She was the first to plop down on the blanket. °•* [[“You’ll be the first to know when I find out.”|Ch 1.20][$maiden to $maiden + 5]] °•* [[“Wouldn’t I like to know?”|Ch 1.20][$enchant to $enchant + 5]] °•* [[You cocked your head at the ridiculous question, eyebrow raising in surprise she even thought to ask you that.|Ch 1.20][$nurture to $nurture + 5]] °•* [[“I really couldn't say…”|Ch 1.20][$wise to $wise + 5]]

“Right, sorry. You’d think I would be used to your lack of memories by now.” The sheepish smile was adorable, but the odd coloured mask made it look just slightly impish, a wicked fox waiting to pounce on its prey. “I’ve looked into it more, but there seems to be nothing wrong with you, no curses or bargains, no ailments we could try to break or fix.” Kael’thalas looked genuinely lost, fiddling with a blade of grass between his fingers. He’d expected between them and the library they would have had some answer for you by now. The search didn’t even yield more questions, just a painful lack of clues, not a single trace of what might have happened to you or who you were. “I’m sorry, $name. I’ll keep looking.” “Thank you.” You were grateful, and you were curious if there was someone out there looking for you. But the truth was, you had no idea, nothing to cling onto from your wiped out past. Part of you selfishly wanted to move on and forget you were broken. Incomplete. “Let’s not bring the mood down, alright. I worked hard for this day to be perfect and I will not accept any depressing topics at my picnic blanket.” She jumped to her feet and removed the colourful robe, an equally vibrant two-piece covering her breasts and hips while the other female slipped out of her two-tonned dark violet dress revealing a plain black one-piece. You did the same… °•* [[albeit a bit more prudish.|Ch 1.21][$flirt to $flirt - 5]] °•* [[with little mind to your exposed skin.|Ch 1.21][$flirt to $flirt + 5]]

<<if $flirt lte 50>> You joined them and removed your own robe, turning around from the group, even if the bathing suit beneath was more than proper for the occasion and your companions were unable to see. Fae were, as you came to know firsthand, either far, very far, from prudes, or just used to not seeing anything. But something about the gesture of undressing made you feel subconscious about your every movement, every strip of skin being uncovered. <<else>>\ You joined them and removed your own robe, sliding it over your shoulders and letting it pool at your feet. Either because they couldn't see or because they just didn’t care, you learned fast that the fae were not prudes. And that worked well with you. <</if>>\ “Would you like to go into the water now, or after we eat?” Dovi asked, a tone to her voice you couldn’t quite place, something between knowing and worried. “I think I’d like to try it out now.” You doubted it would work, even if it turned out you were an expert swimmer, it would not bring you any closer to your past. But you were curious enough to feel the water around you, in a basin larger than a tub. “Great! Kael can show you how to swim.” the redhead smiles brightly, giving you a little shove to get moving. You regarded the High Lord for a moment. °•* [[He had been friendly and supportive, but…|Ch 1.22][$kswim to 1]] °•* [[You quite liked when he was near, but...|Ch 1.22][$kswim to 2]]

Kael’thalas nods dutifully and leads you closer to the edge. You notice Yvonne and Dovi already unpacking the basket, low chatter coming from their direction. But there was something that was bothering you and you were unable to keep the words from spilling. “You don’t have to teach me if you don’t want to.” you blur out suddenly. He pauses, feet barely reaching the water. He eyes you for a moment, no emotion you could make out behind the gilded mask. <<if $kswim is 1>>\ <<set $k_rel to $k_rel + 1>>\ “What makes you say I don’t want to?” His voice came out low, as if wanting to keep the conversation between you, but you wondered if the two fae on the shore could still pick it up. “It just seems they are pushing you to do it sometimes, be around me and help me with the smallest of things. You must have other things to attend to…” The other day Yvonne tasked him to show you to the library and the day before that Dovi had an ‘emergency’ in the kitchen and couldn’t accompany you to gather herbs for dinner. You doubted the High Lord wanted or had time to coddle the human, even if he had always been patient. You even exchanged some friendly conversation and he never shied away from talking about himself and sharing foods he preferred and pastimes he enjoyed. You were surprised sometimes to find he had a rather mischievous nature when he proposed raiding his own pantry one night. “They mean well.” “I’m not saying they don’t.” For some reason his response hurt a little; he was not denying he was rather forced to attend to you, the stray human in his court. “Just that it is fine by me if you don’t always agree with it.” “I’m sorry.” He closed the gap between you, hands raising through the water towards you, but lowering them before they reached their mark. The silence was tense, the shiver uncontrollable. “I never meant to…” His words trailed off, no full response in them. ‘It’s alright, I understand.” “I really don’t think you do.” There was a bittersweet tone to his words, a sagging of his shoulders. “I promise I will be around more.” “You really don’t have to.” “It would be my pleasure to.” He tried a smile, but it looked strained. You wanted to insist, you never intended to gain his pity. But something in the softness that shone in his words, as if he was truly considering it for the first time. “I want you to feel at home in my court, to belong. It is what the Forest Court stands for. Not as ancient as the others, not as orderly, but wild and accepting of all.” “Alright.” “Alright.” he echoed, the gentle smile he usually has making its way back on his lips. “Let’s start with the swimming lesson, shall we?” °•* [[Next|Ch 1.24]] <<else>>\ <<set $k_love to $k_love + 1>>\ “It’s not that.” Kael’s voice was leveled, grumbling in the same monotone he always has, but you saw his pale brows shot up almost comically behind his gilded mask. You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “But something is bothering you.” Your heart skipped a beat at his rare display of emotion, but there were still a lot of uncertainties around the High Lord. “Is it me? Is it because I’m human?” “No. Yes.” he shook his head, trying to arrange his thoughts in order. Finally, he chose to evade the question. “I would love to teach you how to swim. Yvonne would have been better at it, though.” You’ve been in this scenario before, even with the short time you’ve been in his court. Yvonne or Dovi or the others pushing you two do things together, either look for a book or show you around the manor, escort you on the outskirts for mushrooms and herbs. And him always trying to run away from it, from you. On the rare occasions that he didn’t, you got along quite well with the more silent male, quite enjoying his presence in the library, recounting the history of Aequrion with patience and understanding. You couldn't help but want to know more about him. What he enjoyed doing in his free time and foods he liked, what made him laugh. But aside from the more formal duties, he tended to skip anything that could be interpreted as friendly or god forbid, more than. °•* [[“I think you are a great teacher. I could learn a whole lot from you.”|Ch 1.23][$swimflirt to 1]] °•* [[“Would it matter at all if I say I’d like to spend more time with you?”|Ch 1.23][$swimflirt to 2]] <</if>>

The lake rippled lazily beneath the sun, light scattering in broken coins across its surface. He waded in first, the water reaching his waist, then glanced back at you. You stood hesitating at the shallows, arms wrapped around yourself as though the water might bite. “Floating’s the easiest part,” he says, holding out a hand. “You don’t even have to do anything. Just… let go.” “That sounds suspiciously like drowning.” You narrow your eyes, wondering just how deep this lake was. The water was crystal clear, and you could easily make out the bottom, but it still looked pretty deep the further from the shore. A laugh slipped from him, warm and unbothered. “The water can hold you. Trust me.” With reluctant steps, you join him, the cool water pulling a gasp from your chest. He guides you to where it was just deep enough for your lesson, the water past halfway between your waist and chest. You wiggled your toes on the sandy bottom as he began his explanation. “Okay,” he said gently, “lean back. Spread your arms out, like this.” He demonstrated, his body tilting into the water, chest rising above the ripples while his hair drifted around his head. Effortless. “If I sink-” Your breath came tight, <<cycle "$auto_swim" autoselect>> <<option "enthusiastic but weary." weary>> <<option "already a bit sceptical." skeptical>><</cycle>> “You won’t. I’m right here.” He moved close, steadying your elbow as you mimicked him. “Breathe deep, then let it out slowly. Don’t fight the water, let your head dip just a bit. Let it hold you.” Your body resists at first, tense as a bowstring. Then, with his hand beneath the small of your back, you eased down. The water lapps against your ears, muffling the world, and for the first time, you felt the strange lift beneath your spine, like an unseen net. Your eyes fly open. “You’re floating,” he says, smiling. For a moment, you stay there, the sky stretched wide above you, his steady hand warm against your back. You wonder not for the first time if maybe letting go wasn’t so frightening after all. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.25]]

<<if $swimflirt is 1>>\ <<set $flirt to $flirt + 1>>\ “I think you are a great teacher. I could learn a whole lot from you.” There’s a bit more lust than you intended dripping from your tone as you take a step closer to him, his body at arm’s length. His eyebrows raise again, a second time in one day, and he inched further into the water, the action half-hearted, the distance small. “Oh, you’re a fiery one.” he laughed out, but there was sadness to it, far from the reaction you were hoping for. “Like calls to like, my Lord.” you jabbed playfully, splashing a little water on him, trying to lighten the mood. “It does, doesn’t it?” he said, still sounding defeated. You stopped in your tracks, trying to understand the odd sadness that seemed to wash over his face, visible even with half of it hidden. <<elseif $swimflirt is 2>>\ <<set $flirt to $flirt - 1>>\ “Would it matter at all if I say I’d like to spend more time with you?” Kael freezes, or at least he doesn’t speak for a good few heartbeats. His brows were furrowed, you think, something flashing across his face, his strong jaw tightening. You worried for a moment he’d change the subject, or worse, reject you outright. Why would he want to waste his time with a human, after all? “I, um, never considered it.” “Oh.” was all you could say, gaze falling on the water lapping slowly around you. You had the urge to wrap your hands around you, a chill suddenly running down your back. It stung, more than you anticipated, even as you didn’t quite know what to make of his statement. Were so unimportant that he never thought of you at all? <</if>>\ “I’m sorry.” He closed the gap between you, hands raising through the water towards you, but lowering them before they reached their mark. The silence was tense, the shiver uncontrollable. “I never meant to…” His words trailed off, no full response in them. ‘It’s alright, I understand.” “I really don’t think you do.” There was a bittersweet tone to his words, a sagging of his shoulders. “I promise I will be around more.” “You really don’t have to.” “It would be my pleasure to.” He tried a smile, but it looked strained. You wanted to insist, you never intended to gain his pity. But something in the softness that shone in his words, as if he was truly considering it for the first time. “I want you to feel at home in my court, to belong. It is what the Forest Court stands for. Not as ancient as the others, not as orderly, but wild and accepting of all.” “Alright.” “Alright.” he echoed, the gentle smile he usually has making its way back on his lips. “Let’s start with the swimming lesson, shall we?” °•* [[Next|Ch 1.24]]

You dip below the water, feet planted on the sand below and surface, wiping water from your eyes. “Ok, we’ve mastered floating. But how do I… actually move?” He pushed his wet hair back and nodded. “Alright. Think of it like this, your arms and your legs. They work together.” “Sounds complicated already.” “Not at all.” He moved a step away and demonstrated, body half-submerged. “With your arms, you don’t want to thrash. Keep your elbows a little bent. Scoop the water under you and push it back. Short, steady motions. It’s less about strength, more about rhythm.” He dipped forward, hands cutting beneath the surface in a smooth, alternating pattern. “See? One hand, then the other. Not too wide, not too deep. Just enough to keep you balanced.” You nodded, eyes narrowing with concentration. “And your legs,” he continued, shifting his weight so you could see, “they need to kick from the hips, not the knees. If you bend too much, you’ll waste energy. Keep them loose, straight but not stiff. Kick like you’re brushing something off the soles of your feet, one after the other.” <<if $bg is "spy">>\ You hesitate for only a moment, then dive gracefully, arms and legs going through the motions with ease. “You’re either part merfolk or have done this before.” He nods, You thread the water, something you later realize he hadn’t taught you. But also don’t remember ever having done it before either. No memory is triggered, not even a glimpse or an impression of something tangible you could latch yourself onto. “Nothing?” He asks, but from the way the corners of his mouth are slightly downturned you imagine he doesn’t really expect it to. “I might as well have secret fae ancestry.” You say, a bit dejected, small smile playing on your lips. You dive back, trying out a backstroke. It came easily, your limbs moving in perfect unison and propelling you through the water. You floated for a bit, just staring at the open blue sky, feeling strangely empty. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.27]] <<else>>\ °•* [[You find it surprisingly easy|Ch 1.26][$swimmodern to 1]] °•* [[You are a disaster|Ch 1.26][$swimmodern to 0]] <</if>>\

<<if $swimmodern is 1>>\ You hesitate for only a moment, then dive gracefully, arms and legs going through the motions with ease. “You’re either part merfolk or have done this before.” He nods, You thread the water, something you later realize he hadn’t taught you. But also don’t remember ever having done it before either. No memory is triggered, not even a glimpse or an impression of something tangible you could latch yourself onto. “Nothing?” He asks, but from the way the corners of his mouth are slightly downturned you imagine he doesn’t really expect it to. “I might as well have secret fae ancestry.” You say, a bit dejected, small smile playing on your lips. You dive back, trying out a backstroke. It came easily, your limbs moving in perfect unison and propelling you through the water. You floated for a bit, just staring at the open blue sky, feeling strangely empty. <<elseif $swimmodern is 0>>\ You hesitate, then plunge forward, but only moving your legs, your arms flailing erratically as you panic. You start to sink. He catches you under the arms before you go completely below the surface. “Slow down,” he says calmly. “You don’t win by fighting harder, you win by staying steady.” He adjusts your elbows gently. “Keep your strokes tighter. Like you’re drawing little half-circles beneath you. And with your legs, smaller kicks. From here.” He taps lightly at your hipbone, guiding the angle. You try again, more carefully. Hands scooping the water, legs pressing, and you feel yourself glide. Not far, nor fast. But forward. Your mouth opened in surprise. “I’m swimming!” He grins. “Told you. Now just keep your breath steady. Head up, eyes forward. The water will do the rest.” <</if>>\ You get the impression you might have done this before, but the feeling is so vague you could be imagining it. The motions feel completely new, but you can’t rely all that much on this impression alone. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.27]]

As the hours go by, your little group ends up spending the better part of the day there, Yvonne, Dovi and Nirinia eventually joining you in the water. The sun sagged low over the lake, painting the water in bands of molten gold and violet, rippling as the females splashed into the shallows, mischievous grins on their faces. For a while, the lake echoed with their chaos: daring pushes, shrieks when Yvonne tried to pull Kael under the water only to be easily dunked instead. They shoved and laughed and sent sprays into the air like shattered glass and puffs of mist as they used their magic, fire and air, in playful retaliation. Then you all trudged back to the blanket in dripping clothes, hair plastered to your foreheads, faces aching from grins. You collapsed together in the fading light, passing around the last of the bread, sharing handfuls of berries and slices of cheese with wet fingers. The air smelled faintly of water and grass, sweet with the promise of evening. Yvonne lobbed a grape in Kael’s general direction. It bounced off his shoulder and rolled into the grass. “You missed,” the High Lord deadpanned. “Did not.” “Did too.” The horizon dimmed to a wash of firelight and shadows. Fireflies began their quiet dance in the reeds. No one hurried. No one spoke of leaving. They simply leaned against one another, sticky and damp and content, as the lake held the last glow of the sun, like it, too, wanted this day to linger. “One last jump?” Yvonne asks, already getting up and stretching her long limbs. Kael follows with a little grunt of approval. “I will come with this time!” Dovi jumps with enthusiasm, then turns to you. “Do you want to join us, $name?” °•* [[I’d love to!|Ch 1.28][$jump to 1]] °•* [[I’ll join, even if i’m scared.|Ch 1.28][$jump to 1]] °•* [[I’ll watch from the shore.|Ch 1.28][$jump to 0]]

<<if $jump is 1>> The river sang as it tumbled over the lip of stone, its spray turning the air to glitter. The five of you stood at the cliff’s edge, toes curled over wet rock, shadows stretched long in the late sun. “On three.” Yvonne laughed with her usual mischief in her voice. “One!” You stood between Dovi and Kael as hands found hands, damp, nervous, eager. Palms pressed, fingers laced. Hers was soft despite her bark-like skin. His was large and warm, engulfing yours entirely. “Two!” Kael said, his voice deep and commanding, with just the smallest hint of mirth. For a heartbeat you stood there, breathless, listening to the water roar below. Then the half-dryad gave a wild whoop and tugged, and the others followed without hesitation. “Three!” You leap. For an instant, you were weightless, arms flung wide and hands still bound together, hair streaming like banners. The river rushed up to meet you as you plunged in the cold crystalline water, but you only laughed louder, your voices carrying above the spray when you surfaced, gasping and grinning. Dovi was the first to splash you, sending a wave of water straight into your face. Kael pretended dignity until a sudden push from Yvonne toppled him backward with a splash that drenched everyone. Soon there were shrieks and laughter and a chaos of limbs, the sound echoing. Even Nirinia, shy as she was, joined you in the water, throwing her head back and laughed as droplets glittered like sparks in her dark hair. <<else>>\ The river sang as it always did, a low, eternal song beneath the chatter and laughter at the cliff’s edge. You lingered behind, the air cool and damp on your skin, the scent of moss and sun-warmed stone curling around you like an old memory. Nirinia stood a few paces away, her ears twitched at every shout, her broken antler catching the light like a shard of moonstone. “You really aren’t going?” she asked softly, voice barely louder than the hum of the current. You shook your head, smiling as another burst of laughter echoed down the canyon. “No. I think I’d rather watch this time.” The others’ silhouettes teetered at the brink, all daring and bright. Then the final shout — “Three!” — and they vanished into the sun-flecked spray. For a heartbeat, there was only the roar of the falls and the rippling shock of water meeting skin. Then laughter again, muffled but lively. Nirinia edged closer, her hooves leaving small, careful prints in the damp earth. “They’re brave,” she murmured. “And a bit foolish.” You crouch to trail your fingers through the cool water, letting it swirl around your wrist. “Sometimes I think it may be the same thing.” the deerfolk made a soft, breathy sound, an almost-laugh. Then, without warning, her small hand brushed yours. “It looks nice,” she said, glancing toward the gleam of heads and limbs far below. Her dark eyes darted back to you. “We could still go in. Just not from up there.” So you did. Shoes forgotten, the two of you waded in together, the cold biting first, then giving way to something exhilarating. The water lapped at your legs, and Nirinia laughed, bright and unguarded. She squealed when you flicked water at her, splashing you back with unexpected force. Dovi was the first to reach you and join in, sending a wave of water straight into both your faces. Kael followed, pretending dignity until a sudden push from Yvonne toppled him backward with a splash that drenched everyone. Soon there were shrieks and laughter and a chaos of limbs, the sound echoing. Even Nirinia, shy as she was, threw her head back and laughed as droplets glittered like sparks in her dark hair. <</if>>\ By the time the sun slipped below the trees, none of you cared who’d jumped first or stayed behind. Bright orange orbs sparked to life around you in the dimming light. //Laughwisp//, glowed around everyone, jumping whimsically in the air above your heads, leaving comet-like streaks in their wakes. They echoed softly with trickling giggle-like sounds. A perfect end to a perfect day. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.29]]

//''Caelreth, the 41st of Igthar''// You started seeing the High Lord of the Forest Court more often after that day at the waterfall. You spent time with him in the library, learning a bit more about the Kindred and why all sorts of seemingly unrelated beings fell under this term. He was endlessly patient in his monotone, proper way. “So all the Kindred are related, in a way?” you ask again, not quite grasping how a fae could share anything in common with a dragon. “We are created by the same One-God. Or, if you prefer the non-believer theory, we all share some common, magic-attuned ancestor in our evolution.” “I think I prefer the <<cycle "$fakereligion" autoselect>> <<option "religious version.” you nod." religious>> <<option "pragmatic version.” you scrunch your nose." pragmatic>> <</cycle>> “Still, what exactly makes you… related?” He regarded you for a moment, jaw tense, but his eyeless mask of golden leaves gave nothing away of his expression or thoughts. “That would be the Gemhearts.” “Gem-hearts?” It was the first time this term was coming up, or at least you didn’t recall hearing it from any of Dovi’s stories. Kael sighed, the muscles of his face relaxing. He took a few more seconds to answer. “Yes, Fae hearts are a bit different than yours. Some theorise our magic, as well as our very essence, our soul, resides in it. It’s crystal-like and round, brimming with magic.” “Oh.” You didn’t quite know what to make of this information. It was odd, as if you needed any more reasons to feel as an outsider. “I suppose I don’t have one then.” “No, humans do not have gemhearts.” “But… all the other beings do? Dragons, nymphs, dryads…” “Humans are not the only ones without it, if that’s what you are asking. A lot of, if not all, other creatures in the Mortal lands have a softhearts, even the larger winged ones. Pegasi, griffings, fellkyn.” //‘Softheart’//. You tried the word in your mind, hand pressing against your chest to the steady rhythm beneath your ribs. It sounded… °•* [[gentle|Ch 1.30][$maiden to $maiden + 5]] °•* [[weak|Ch 1.30][$enchant to $enchant + 5]] °•* [[loving|Ch 1.30][$nurture to $nurture + 5]] °•* [[inefficient|Ch 1.30][$wise to $wise + 5]]

How you felt mattered very little in the grand scheme of things. It was not like you could change what you were – undeniably ‘other’. “I suppose it’s just another way I’m different then.” There was a long pause, one you didn’t immediately register as tense or odd, lost in your own little musings. Only when you lifted your head and found him still turned towards you, finger tapping lightly the armrest of his chair, you realized he hadn't moved at all. “My Lord?” “You and I are not different in this regard.” he finally says, only adding to your confusion. “But you’re Fae.” “Am I?” His lips turned into an amused smirk, the expression making him look somehow younger. “I suppose most humans would know little of my kind...” He trailed off, his usually booming voice uncharacteristically low and distant. You waited patiently for him to continue. “I am Ael’thari, the last of my kind. The word means ‘keeper of the great skyfields’ in the old tongue. But we were more commonly referred to as //High Elves//.” “So if you’re not Fae, you can lie then?” “Yes.” he nods, not a trace of surprise at your question. “Most Fae will find a way to twist the truth either way, so it’s best not to rely fully on this particular ‘trait’.” You hum at his words. It was perhaps the third or fourth time already that someone was giving you this particular advice. @@.c;⇒ <<message '“And you said you were the last of your kind?”' 'uniqueID'>> “Yes, but it’s not as dramatic as one would think. There was no genocide of my people, no bloody wars. Just a slow decrease in population, as we drifted away from the skyfields. When my family formed the Forest Court, we were already the only ones left.” He must have sensed the question looming on your tongue, for he continued after a few heartbeats. “As for my family… It is not a secret, but perhaps a story for another time.”@@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '“Will you need to… repopulate?”' 'uniqueID'>> There was the smallest twitch in his jaw, throat bobbing as though swallowing words. “It would be rather impossible.” he finally says. “My children would be half Ael’thari, and theirs half still. So no, not repopulate…” He trailed off again. “But?” “But once, I did dream of a family of my own.” His tone was final, there was no more he was willing to share on this topic. @@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '“But you are the High Lord of a court of Kindred. How did that happen?”' 'uniqueID'>> “The Forest Court is newer, only formed some one thousand years ago. The original two courts, Sun and Moon, can be dated back more than four, maybe even closer to five, thousand years back.” He spoke ever calmly, his voice was soft as worn parchment, patient to see if you had any questions. “How did the Forest Court come to be then?” “As you might guess, the people of the skyfields banded together. We were a wild folk before. Nomads, coming and going between the other courts, but never belonging anywhere. It was my great-grandmother who initially formed a small community, a place for the souls who wanted to settle down and take roots. In time, it became bigger and bigger, until it was called the Forest Court.” “And the other courts just accepted the newly formed one?” “Thorns, no.” he chuckled a bit. “I don’t believe there was ever a time where the courts got along well, even when there were just two of them.” “Even now?” “Especially now.” He trailed off, his mouth pulling to the side, as if trying out words on his tongue. “I can’t say much, just that… things are not looking good.”@@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '“How did you become High Lord? Was it passed down from your father?”' 'uniqueID'>> “Yes, in my case it was passed down. But since I do not have an Heir, should I die, the title would pass along to the most worthy.” “So is it hereditary or merit based?” you asked, a bit confused. “It’s said to be merit based, but honestly we don’t know how the Gods, or whatever fickle power is out there, operates.” He sounded a bit annoyed, which was odd to hear from his usually leveled and devoid of emotions tone.@@<</message>>@@ °•* [[Do you enjoy being High Lord?|Ch 1.31]]

He stiffened, lips parting slightly. He took a while to answer, as if unsure himself. “There is no easy answer to this. I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me…” You waited patiently as he mused a little longer on his next words. “It was never supposed to be mine, the title. I had four older brothers that were to come before me.” “But it skipped them?” “They were killed. Along with my parents. My entire family, gone in one night, and me, left to handle the politics of running a court by myself. I suppose the short answer is no, I do not enjoy it. But then there are moments where I can make a difference, shield my people from… the forces outside. In those moments, the weight of it all seems more bearable. Barely.” “You don’t have to bear it alone.” °•* [[He has a lot of friends in court who would do anything to help. You included.|Ch 1.32][$krom to 0]] <<if $k_love gte 1>>\ °•* [[You would do anything to help him, lessen his burden.|Ch 1.32][$krom to 1]] <<else>>\ °•* You would do anything to help him, lessen his burden. (At least 1 romance point needed for this option) <</if>>

<<if $krom is 0>>/ “I’ve seen the way your friends surround you. Yvonne, with all her joking, would move mountains if you needed. Ianna seems to always hover, just waiting for you to order something of her, to assist in any way. All the servants wait for your approval when you pass by, all the sentries stand just a little taller.” “I know. I am blessed to have all of them.” “And, I know I am human, but if there’s anything I can do, I am here too.” There was not an exact moment when your admiration of him turned to friendship - it was hundreds of small things, from worried questions to encouraging words. It had been easy, almost natural, Yvonne even joking you were the little sister neither of them ever had. “You accepted me into your home, and more so, you made it easy to live here-” “That was less me, and more Yvonne and Dovi. Nirinia even.” he corrected, head shaking, his pale blonde tresses falling over his shoulder. “They may have spent more time with me, but only because you allowed it. You brought me to your court on your dragon, sending a clear message. It would have been easy for you to dismiss me entirely, let your servants manage me. Yet you are here, teaching me about your people and your court.” “I’d like to think they’d be welcoming regardless.” He smiled. “Most definitely.” It was hard to imagine Dovi as anything other than your beloved friend, or Yvonne not her mischievous self. “I appreciate all of you for making the Forest Court feel like home. And I, I would like for you to count on me too, if there is ever need.” “For our home.” he says, nodding his head towards you. °•* [[For our home.|Ch 1.33]] <<else>>\ You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when your feelings started to stray from friendship to admiration, to a little crush. Maybe it had always been, since that first day when he took you flying on his dragon. Or maybe it had been all the times combined, when he checked up on you, made sure you were accommodating, his hand always coming to rest on your shoulder or arm, lingering a bit longer each time. “I am here, if you ever need to share the burden. I’d help you carry it for as long and as best as I can.” You were not sure what exactly a human like you could do, but even if it was something as small as him venting to you, you were happy to listen to him. “$name…” Your name on his lips was a pained whisper. He got up from his chair and took a step towards you. Then paused, head shaking, his pale blonde tresses falling over his shoulder. “Thank you.” he finally said, but it was like a wall had risen between you, cold and distant. “Did I say something wrong?” “No, of course not. But it is getting late.” His voice was the usual monotone deep rumble. He turned towards the door with inhuman speed, barely letting you register his words. “Sleep well, $name.” And then he was gone. °•* [[Well, that went well.|Ch 1.33]] <</if>>

//''Caelreth, the 42nd of Igthar''// It was well past midnight on the following day when the heavy hush of the manor called you from restless sleep. The moon hung low and ripe over the gardens, casting a pale, silvery glow over the sprawling grounds. You slipped from your bed without truly knowing why, the need to move, to breathe under that vast, star-bright sky too urgent to ignore. Barefoot, you padded down the cool, polished halls, the scent of night-blooming lilies curling through the open windows. Somewhere distant, a fountain gurgled softly, like a lullaby for the restless. The gardens beyond the manor walls were drenched in moonlight, every flower shimmering, every tree dusted in silver. The air was cooler now, sweet with dew and the lingering perfume of thousands of blossoms. You drifted without aim until you found yourself by the marble fountain at the heart of the garden, the one you had visited so many times, the one where a once-wilting flower now bloomed bright and strong under your and Dovi’s tending. You smiled, reaching out to brush your fingers over its velvet petals. And froze. There, seated on the fountain’s broad rim, was Kael. He was still as stone, his head bowed, pale hair catching the moonlight like a halo. The mask he wore gleamed faintly, but it could not hide the tired set of his shoulders, the way his hands, braced on his knees, flexed restlessly as if he carried a weight he could not put down. He didn’t see you at first. Or perhaps he had. Perhaps he had sensed you from the moment you stepped into the garden. It was hard to tell with him sometimes since his demeanor was usually serene, the small glimpses of emotions sparse. Not being able to see half his face, the potential surprise in his eyes, was also an impediment. You hesitated, half-turning to leave, to give him privacy, when his voice, low and rough, stopped you. "Stay." A single word, frayed and raw, heavier than any command. You obeyed, heart thudding too loudly in the sacred hush of night. Slowly, you crossed to him, the dewy grass cool against your bare feet. When you were close enough to see the way the moon painted the hard lines of his throat, his jaw, you lowered yourself onto the fountain’s edge beside him. Neither of you spoke for a long time. The world around you was alive with the music of the night. The rustle of leaves, the distant chirp of crickets, the soft rush of the fountain behind you. Kael tilted his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat. The cords of his neck stood out beneath pale skin drawn tight, the heavy muscle shifting as he breathed in the night air like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. "I can’t sleep," you said softly, because the silence felt too thick, too sacred not to fill. "Neither can I," he answered, voice barely above a whisper. You turned to look at him, truly looked. The mask was beautiful, ornate with leaves and flowers inlaid in gold, but it was still a cage. And yet... there was something about the way he sat there, open and unguarded, that felt more real than anything you had seen from him before. “Do you miss it?” you asked without thinking, your voice a whisper in the dark. “Your sight?” He was silent so long you thought he might not answer. “Every day.” He said, voice soft as falling petals. <<if $k_love lt 1>>\ “But I hate it more that the entire court suffers with me.” The sorrow in him was a palpable thing, his emotions hitting you like a wave. You shivered, but placed your hand tentatively near his, a small brush of your fingers. An invitation, if he needed the comfort. He hesitated only for a heartbeat. Then his hard was in yours, calloused and warm. “Thank you.” He smiled. °•* [[“It’s what friends do.” You say sincerely|Ch 1.34]] °•* [[“Don’t mention it.” You smile.|Ch 1.34]] °•* [[“Anytime.” You say warmly.|Ch 1.34]] °•* [[You nod, fingers squeezing his in acknowledgment.|Ch 1.34]] <<elseif $k_love gte 1>>\ “I find myself often wishing…” He turns his head towards you, your heart skipping a beat. The longing in him was a living thing, coiled and restless. You felt it like a thread winding around your own heart, binding you to him in ways you hadn’t yet dared to name. Your hand, traitorous and foolish, lifted on its own. You barely brushed your fingertips against the back of his hand, resting on the stone. He flinched, as if startled by the gentleness of the touch. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, he turned his hand, palm up, offering it. An invitation. You placed your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, warm, strong, trembling just slightly. Not from fear. From restraint. The cool night air wrapped around you both, but you were burning from that one simple point of contact. "You..." he began, then stopped, swallowing thickly. The mask made it impossible to see his eyes, but you tried to imagine he’d look straight into your own $eyes ones. "You make me forget," he said, voice hoarse. "for a little while." //‘Forget what?’// you wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come, the moment between you feeling too fragile. You squeezed his hand gently instead, grounding him and yourself in this tender, stolen moment. Above you, the stars wheeled slowly across the sky. The garden breathed around you full of life, with the scent of flowers and clinking water and cricketers. °•* [[And new beginnings.|Ch 1.34]] <</if>>\

You sat there for a while longer, hands entwined, the sounds of the night falling over you like a blanket. Something shifted ever so slightly from then on. Nightly rendezvous became a bit of a tradition. Sometimes just the two of you, other times joined by Yvonne or Dovi, a deck of Withered Bloom spread between you. One of your late night tea parties attracted the attention of more sleepless fae and you got to know Nirina and Adras better, a doe-masked maid and a wolf-masked sentry who clearly didn’t have a thing for one another. Even Ianna joined you once. It was odd to see her in her nightgown, still pristine, but her hair musseled from twisting and turning all night. You wanted to always remember those nights, when you learned why Kael was crowned the undefeated King of Petal Toss, when Yvonne let her mischievous side shine as she intentionally said words wrong in Whisper Chain. It was on nights like those you felt the most whole. It was in their presence you stopped being ‘the human’ and was just $name instead. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.35]]

You dream that night. You’re aware it’s a dream, from the subtle ways you don’t remember how you got there and what you were doing. How the world seemed to be encompassed in this one scene, the edges of your vision blurry. It was the same as when you dreamt of //him//, your human. But it had not been the only time since then, no. <<if $bg is "spy">>\ More often than not, you fond yourself in some kind of barracks, exploring one room in each dream, from common rooms stacked with beds, to mess halls and training grounds. Each time they were eerily still and empty, as if abandoned in time, no traces of people actually using the space ever. No personal belongings, no food on the tables or the pantry, but everything else in pristine condition. <<elseif $bg is "cultist">>\ More often than not, you fond yourself in some kind of temple, in what you assume are different worship rooms. The altar changes slightly every time you visit it in your sleep, though it is strikingly the same building. Most of the time, it’s dedicated to the Weaver, with Their three heads and six arms. Other times to the Trinity deities associated with the Many-faced God. More curious are the rare occasions when you see just two deities depicted. <<else>>\ But the previous ones came in quick flashes, there and gone again. Images more like impressions, moving too quickly, dispersing from your memory once you woke even faster. You were left with vague feelings that lasted only a few minutes more. But as soon you got out of bed they were gone as well. <</if>>\ Had they been memories? Places you’ve seen, been to before? There was no way to tell, so you didn’t dwell on it too long. They happened rarely enough for them not to bother you too much, and they slipped your mind entirely until the next one struck. °•* [[But tonight it’s different.|Ch 1.36]]

You are back in the stone garden from your first dream. Firelight stains the sky now, low and flickering, as if the stars themselves have caught flame. The world smells of ash and roses. “Not again…” you think to yourself as you wander through the marble columns and blue rose hedges. The white stones beneath your feet are cold, or at least, you get the impression they’d feel cold if this was real. You find //him// at the fountain again. No armor this time. No cloak. Just a black shirt unlaced at the throat, sleeves pushed to his elbows. “You came back.” he says evenly, still facing forward. “I didn’t mean to.” you shrug, even if he didn’t see it, and padded closer. “Curious.” You hear the smirk in his voice, questioning and soft. You close the distance slowly, tentatively. He finally turns and his expression isn’t unreadable this time. It’s open and inviting. “Let’s trade, stranger. A question for a question.” “Sounds fair.” “And in the spirit of chivalry, you go first, my lady.” He bowed with a flourish, his demeanor jovial and light. @@.c;⇒ <<message '”This place… it’s from your world?”' 'uniqueID'>> “It is. It’s one of my favorite places in the castle.” He turns to look around fondly at the garden surrounding you. “I have many memories here, from my mother reading stories, to playing hide and seek with the other children in the maze out back. May or may not have had my first kiss… right around that arch over there.” he smiles, with that boyish flicker in his warm brown eyes. “Was that really an important detail?” you <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ blush. <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ smirk. \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ ask. \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ sigh. <</if>>\ “Nu-huh. I believe it is my turn to ask.” he beams, amused. @@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '“What are you doing in the Forest Court?”' 'uniqueID'>> “What are you doing in the Forest Court?” His tone is still light, but there’s the barest shift in his posture, his gaze now fully onto you, his attention piqued. “I live here.” you shrug, searching for something else to add, but nothing really comes to mind. “A human between the Kindred… It’s rather hard to believe.” “I am the only one there, so I see how it may not be entirely common.” <<cycle "$aware" autoselect>> <<option "You know he’s trying to get more details out of you, but you genuinely don’t understand what he’s hinting at." 0>> <<option "You get the feeling he’s fishing to get more details out of you, but he will have to ask you another question." 1>><</cycle>> “Hmp. You play a hard game.” he nods, and gestured for you to ask your next question. @@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '“Are those fireworks?”' 'uniqueID'>> “Are those fireworks?” “Yes, it was during the celebration for the King’s birthday. The entire Mortal Lands celebrated, but the capital in particular throws the best parades and firework shows.” He turns to look at you, smiling brightly. “You should come one day, for one of the holidays.” “I would love to, but isn’t it rather far?” “It’s on the other side of Aequrion.” he nods thoughtfully, but his joy never falters. “But since you are allowed to leave… I’m sure we can figure something out.” “Allowed to leave? Of course I am!” “I was just checking.” “I’ll count that as your next question.” “You will do no such thing! It’s my turn now.” he laughs, good naturedly, even as he tricked you into giving up more information. @@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '“How did you end up there?”' 'uniqueID'>> “How did you end up there?” There’s a small shift again in his demeanor, the mirth still in his tone, but an intensity in his eyes that was missing before. “It’s an awful far way from any human outposts, as we’ve well established.” “I don’t remember.” “What exactly don’t you remember?” you smile at his question, but guessing your thoughts he continues. “Indulge me this once, will you? You can have two questions after.” “Fine. But only because there’s very little I can actually tell you. I don’t remember anything prior to waking up on one of the skyfields. Nothing but my name.” He frowns at your admission, his eyes rake over your face, pausing. Slowing. Like he’s trying to memorize something before it disappears. You didn’t realize how much you missed seeing people’s eyes, the way they gave up emotions and expressions so freely. You stared into his for a moment longer than it was probably proper. “You’re getting more mysterious by the minute.” @@<</message>>@@ °•* [[Are you real?|Ch 1.37]]

“I am. But then again, if I were a figment of your dreams, I would still claim that, wouldn’t I.” He smirks, the corner of his lips twitching. “Very funny.” You <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ pout.\ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ frown.\ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ place your arms on your hips.\ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ cross your arms.<</if>>\ “It’s a little funny.” he chimes. “But I assure you, I am very real. Name’s Rhevan.” He extends a hand towards you, grinning. “$name. Nice to meet you.” You place your hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he bows and brings it to his lips. Soft and feather-light, they touch your knuckles in a polite kiss. His hand is a perfect contrast, rough and hard as he held yours gingerly in it. His hair is a tousled crown of deep brown curls, wild and bouncing as they catch the light, showing shades of dark copper beneath. But his smile as he straightens and looks at you is the most fascinating. In turn because you missed having people actually look at you, see you. Not in a vain way, but just acknowledge your existence. °•* [[It was odd how much you missed this, normal human interaction.|Ch 1.38][$rrom to 0]] °•* [[It didn’t help that your hand still in his tingled, warm.|Ch 1.38][$rrom to 1]] °•* [[It didn’t help that he was ridiculously easy on the eye.|Ch 1.38][$rrom to 2]]

He still held your hand, for whatever reason, those intense, rich, earth-dark brown eyes stare at you and for a moment you think it’s not just with curiosity. You are clearly a mystery to him, something to solve. But maybe he enjoyed these little interactions you had, human to human. <<if $rrom is 1>>\ You glanced at your hand, still held in his steady grip, warm and tingling. You ease it back slowly, trying not to seem as flustered as you feel, but the ghost of his touch lingers stubbornly. Heat crawls up your neck, and you force yourself to look anywhere but at the way his eyes soften, as if he notices every flicker of your discomfort and finds it… endearing. <<elseif $rrom is 2>>\ You let your hand stay in his for a heartbeat longer than necessary, meeting his gaze with a raised brow that you know borders on suggestive. Your eyes raked over him, from his warm eyes to those annoyingly distracting dimples, down the column of his neck, strong shoulders and arms, and finally to the calloused hand still folding yours gingerly. If he notices your appraisal, he doesn’t shy away. Instead, his lips tip into a grin that promises he’s fully aware and doesn’t mind it one bit.<</if>>\ You supposed meeting in a dream was probably not that normal, right? Or was it? You think you should ask... But the dream is tearing at the seams now, light bleeding through the cracks in the sky like a mirror shattering. “Do try to remember me when you wake.” he teases, already fading into the dark, his hand slipping from yours. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.39]]

//''Seven months later Saelreth, the 9th of Zephthar''// It wasn’t an official position, not really, but everyone knew you and you helped where you could, the fae particularly happy with having someone who could actually see around the manor. You felt like a full member of the Spring Court, even if everything around you seemed to want to remind you of your mortality. From someone mentioning events that happened hundreds of years in the past, to scrapes and bruises not healing in heartbeats. And then there was the magic! Or your lack of it and the abundance of everyone’s around you. Dovi was mostly on kitchen duty, but as a half-dryad she had some amazing powers over plants. Particularly helpful in the gardens, where you occasionally helped her tend to and revive flowers. Yvonne’s fire magic always seemed to buzz around her, but it was even more impressive when she used it, either to light up a bonfire or just for a mischievous sparkly prank. You witnessed Ianna summon a gale once, the path covered in branches and leaves clearing before her. It was little things, but ones that reminded you again and again that you were not quite like them. °•* [[You didn’t think much of it actually.|Ch 1.40][$humanop to 0]] °•* [[It was oddly painful sometimes, but there was not much you could do.|Ch 1.40][$humanop to 1]] °•* [[You did your best to ignore it.|Ch 1.40][$humanop to 3]]

<<if $humanop is 0>>\ The reminder was there, yes, yet you gave it little thought other than remarking it in passing. <<elseif $humanop is 1>>\ You had to accept at some point that you were not magic like them, even if it sometimes felt like you didn’t fully belong. <<elseif $humanop is 2>>\ The feeling was there, twisting and ugly, buried in a deep dark corner of your mind where it couldn’t bother you. Too often.<</if>> But even with you being //‘only human’//, the fae of the Forest Court made you feel wanted and appreciated. It felt like home, if you ever knew one. And while you didn’t have a specific role like the others, you helped around in the manor, mostly doing little tasks that required vision. You wandered around the manor, keeping yourself busy, but you were seldom alone, usually accompanied by Dovi or Nirinia, sometimes Yvonne or Averill and even Kael. Not that you really wanted to be alone, anyway, especially outside the manor’s proper. That one time a //tree// decided to eat you was enough to quench your curiosity about the world beyond the beautiful rose covered walls. And besides, there was enough beauty and curiosities to keep you entertained right where you were. The manor was a maze of hallways and hidden doors, but today you wandered deeper, led by some invisible pull. You found yourself in a long, silent corridor lined with portraits. It was grand and imposing, decorated with paintings, high lords and ladies captured forever in strokes of color, depictions of the Weaver God as well as scenery, from gruesome battles to picturesque landscapes. But one portrait near the end caught you and would not let you pass. A woman. She stood tall and proud, clothed in shimmering green and gold. Her hair tumbled down her back in a waterfall of light, crowned with delicate flowers. Power radiated from her. An effortless, untouchable beauty that felt almost alive. °•* [[At her side, clinging to her skirts, was a small boy.|Ch 1.41]]

He had the same pale gold hair he had now, but the similarities ended there, the scrawny shy looking child in the painting having little else in common with the massive, stoic High Lord he grew up to be. And then there were his //eyes//, wide and so incredibly green, staring out from the canvas, full of life and fierce protectiveness despite his meeker stance. Your heart twisted. There was something almost unbearably pure about the image. Something intimate that you were unsure you were supposed to witness. You didn’t hear the footsteps behind you. Didn’t sense him until a shadow fell over the floor to your right. “That's my mother.” Kael said quietly. You turned, startled. He stood a few feet away, towering, poised. Masked. A stark contrast to the open expression on the boy’s face. You tried to imagine those green eyes on him now, would they still be inquisitive and fierce, or had the years toned down that intensity. It was hard to picture, that damned masked covered too much of his upper face. His sightless gaze was turned toward the painting, but you knew he couldn't see it. Couldn’t see her. You swallowed. “I'm sorry.” you said averting your gaze from the painting, unsure why you were apologizing. “No need. You are allowed to explore the manor.” He shook his head once. His voice was flat, a deep, unfeeling rumble. A stone rolling down a rocky mountain. You turned back to the portrait, studying it, feeling a strange ache in your chest. You knew his family was gone, him being the last of his kind. But it had been hard to grasp it at the time, perhaps in part because of your own lack of connection to a family of your own… But seeing his mother now, gave his loss a face, a weight you weren’t sure you fully understood in your condition. After a long pause, Kael spoke again, voice even rougher. “Tell me what you see.” he said and took a step closer. “Describe her.” The air between you thickened. You hesitated, then turned fully toward the painting, gathering your words carefully. “She looks like…” you began, voice soft. °•* [[Forest’s wonder|Ch 1.42][$mother to 1]] °•* [[Forest’s wilderness|Ch 1.42][$mother to 2]] °•* [[Forest’s heart|Ch 1.42][$mother to 3]] °•* [[Forest’s wisdom|Ch 1.42][$mother to 4]]

<<if $mother is 1>>\ <<set $maiden to $maiden + 5>>\ “She looks so young, as if the hardships of the world had not yet touched her.” you say finally, eyes tracing over every detail. “The light in her painted eyes is pure, sincere, untouched by sorrow. Her hair tumbles down in loose golden waves, crowned with tiny blossoms, and her smile, though serene, hints at the giddy thrill of first beginnings. First blooms, first loves, first dances under the starlight.” “Even the boy clinging to her skirts seemed to sense it.” you add, moving to Kael’s younger self. “His small face alight with the fierce devotion children give to those who still belong half to the realm of dreams. She is Forest’s wonder — untouched, untroubled, unstoppable.” \ <<elseif $mother is 2>>\ <<set $enchant to $enchant + 5>>\ “She is beautiful in a way that unsettles.” you say finally, eyes tracing over every detail. “The tilt of her head, the faint curve of her mouth… it isn’t merely grace, it’s //knowing//. It’s owning her own strength, wielding it with elegance. Flowers thread through her hair in deliberate chaos, each one seeming to glow against the dark richness of her gown.” “The boy by her side clung to her as if he knew he was safe as long as he was near her.” you add, moving to Kael’s younger self. “She is Forest’s wilderness— sovereign, untamed and unabashed.” \ <<elseif $mother is 3>>\ <<set $nurture to $nurture + 5>>\ “She is carrying, radiating warmth even from this cold canvas”. you say finally, eyes tracing over every detail. “The set of her shoulders is proud, but the bend of her body toward the boy at her side is unmistakable, carrying. A shield, a shelter. There is a tenderness in her pose, a quiet patience woven into the fall of her hair and the softness of her mouth. The garden blooming around her feels less like a show of power and more like an extension of her spirit, growing, thriving, nurturing everything she touches.” “The boy seemed almost part of her.” you add, moving to Kael’s younger self. “His small hand tangled in her skirts, his trust complete. She is Forest’s heart — fierce, but forever giving.” \ <<elseif $mother is 4>>\ <<set $wise to $wise + 5>>\ “She seems eternal! Less a figure of flesh and blood than a presence that had always existed.” you say finally, eyes tracing over every detail. “There is a depth in her expression, a sorrowful kind of joy, as if she had known great loss and even greater love. Her stance is not just proud, it’s the bearing of someone who had chosen to carry the weight of many lives, endure it because she knew she could. The flowers braided into her hair are not mere adornments but emblems, each bloom speaking of seasons turned and lessons learned.” “The boy beside her clung not only for comfort.” you add, moving to Kael’s younger self. “But to be tethered to something greater, to the wisdom that pours from her like sunlight. She is Forest’s wisdom— ancient, powerful and endless.”<</if>>\ A long silence. You turned, suddenly uncertain. Had you said too much? Had you angered him? But Kael was standing utterly still, as if turned to stone. Only the faintest tremor ran through him. Something inside him, buried deep, was breaking open. “I could barely conjure her anymore, in my mind.” Kael said at last, voice barely a whisper. “These masks, they took away more than we thought. Smiles and voices without faces. Life without colors.” Your heart broke a little for him. He turned his masked face to you. And though he couldn’t see you, though he had no idea what your face looked like, you felt the weight of his focus. As if he could feel your soul through the air shimmering between the two of you. You hoped he saw the same thing you did. °•* [[Something “more”.|Ch 1.43][$kmore to 1]] °•* [[The sibiling you both wished you had.|Ch 1.43][$kmore to 0]]

<<if $kmore is 0>>\ <<set $k_rel to $k_rel + 5>>\ A familial bond that transcended blood, memory, and race. Over the months, you had grown close. Not in the fiery, immediate way some bonds form, but in the slow, steady weaving of two people who simply understood each other. There was something comforting in his presence, in his quiet constancy. In the way he spoke, always dull and composed, but always with good intention. In the dry humor he delivered with a straight face, waiting only for the small huff of a laugh the people surrounding could never fully suppress. He listened to you the same he did Yvonne, Ianna or Averill. Not as a subordinate, not as an outsider. Just… as yourself. Just like a friend. “Thank you. For describing her so vividly,” he says now, his voice soft in that restrained way of his, as if emotion is something he must keep folded neatly away. “For a moment I was there again, on that day the painting was made. I can almost picture how her hair shined in the morning light and her perfume – freesia and elderflower. Her voice, gentle and radiant, even as she scolded me for not wearing the clothes she arranged. I was a bit of a rebel at that age…” With his eyes hidden behind his golden mask, you get the impression he was focused somewhere inward, where the image of his mother bloomed inside his memories. A fond smile tugged at his lips, small, but genuine, and you felt privileged just to witness it. He had shared so little of his past, but what he did share, you treated with reverence. And he trusted you enough to let you handle it. Maybe that was what made this connection significant; neither of you had sought out a bond, yet one had quietly rooted itself between you. Two spirits who walked the world differently, yet recognized the same kinds of loneliness. Of resilience. Of yearning for a place to belong, and finding, unexpectedly, that belonging could be a person, too. “I’m glad I could give that back to you,” you said. And though the words were simple, he seemed to understand the depth beneath them, the pure truth within them. Found family didn’t always need to be declared. Sometimes it was just… there. Growing between shared silences and unspoken understanding. And this, this quiet moment in a hall of portraits, felt like proof of it. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.44]] <<else>>\ <<set $klove to $k_love + 5>>\ Another step closer. Close enough now that you could see the tension in his broad shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell, almost as if he were fighting for control. The silence between you was no longer empty. It was full, humming with a fragile, fierce new connection. You could have touched him. You //wanted// to, Weaver knows how much you did! But you stayed still. Let him come to you. Or not. “But you...” he says finally, voice faltering, low and rough, like it scraped on stone. He drew a breath that shook faintly in his chest. His large hands curled into fists at his sides, shoulders drawn tight. “This mask stole every face, every color. It left me in a starless void. There’s nothing. No light. No shape.” He turned his head slightly toward you, though his eyes were veiled. You shivered under the imaginary scrutiny, but you could almost picture those intense green eyes peering down at you. Almost, but not quite. “You press through the darkness. I feel you, even when I shouldn’t. As if the Loom itself pulls your thread against mine, no matter how hard I try…” His voice trembled with something raw and bewildered. He takes a sharp inhale, as if the words alone broke something loose inside. His chest rose and fell too quickly now, the struggle plain in the strain of muscle and the crack of restraint in his tone. “But you–” he whispered again, softer this time, as though the words themselves were a confession. The silence after was thick, humming like the taut string of a bow. His breath came uneven, shoulders rigid, as though admitting that much had already cost him more than he thought. His fingers flexed once, twitching at his side, fighting the instinct to reach. He doesn’t. Instead, a rough sound slipped from him, half a cough, half a muttered excuse, and he turned sharply away, the movement too sudden to be casual. His broad shoulders stiffened as he put space between you, as if distance could undo what he’d just allowed himself to say. But it doesn’t matter this time, he stayed too long, spoke too much. He can’t take the words back with him. They linger, sweeter, richer than any honeywine. Warmth unfurled low in your belly, fluttering upward until it pulled an unbidden smile to your lips. You wrapped your arms around yourself, holding them close, savoring them like a stolen secret. <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ He hid it well, but you’ve seen it now, the way something in him softens when he forgets to guard himself. Just a flicker. Just enough to make you hope. \ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ He can keep his distance, wear that calmness like a shield. It won’t matter. You’ve already slipped beneath his skin, and he’s felt you there, no matter how he tries to ignore or deny it. \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ You smile fondly. Even stone warms in sunlight. He doesn’t see it yet, but he’s beginning to turn toward you, you’ve noticed, like a tree bending toward the sun. \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ He could build his walls as high as he liked. You have seen the cracks now. And brick by careful brick, you were breaking through. <</if>> °•* [[Next|Ch 1.44]] <</if>> <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ <<set $herb to "Lirenth Bloom">>\ <<set $herbs to "Lirenth Blooms">>\ <<set $ceremony to "renewal rite">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "renewal rites">>\ \ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ <<set $herb to "Thornmint">>\ <<set $ceremony to "cleansing ritual">>\ <<set $herbs to "Thornmints">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "cleansing rituals">>\ \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ <<set $herb to "Veirleaf">>\ <<set $ceremony to "healing circle">>\ <<set $herbs to "Veirleaves">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "healing circles">>\ \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ <<set $herb to "Marrowblossom">>\ <<set $ceremony to "remembrance rite">>\ <<set $herbs to "Marrowblossoms">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "remembrance rites">>\ <</if>>

<<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ <<set $herb to "Lirenth Bloom">>\ <<set $herbs to "Lirenth Blooms">>\ <<set $ceremony to "renewal rite">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "renewal rites">>\ \ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ <<set $herb to "Thornmint">>\ <<set $ceremony to "cleansing ritual">>\ <<set $herbs to "Thornmints">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "cleansing rituals">>\ \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ <<set $herb to "Veirleaf">>\ <<set $ceremony to "healing circle">>\ <<set $herbs to "Veirleaves">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "healing circles">>\ \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ <<set $herb to "Marrowblossom">>\ <<set $ceremony to "remembrance rite">>\ <<set $herbs to "Marrowblossoms">>\ <<set $ceremonies to "remembrance rites">>\ <</if>> //''Saelreth, the 13th of Zephthar''// A few days later you were surprised when the High Priestess gave you a job, a simple task, to collect some herbs, $herbs, for a $ceremony, from the edge of the forest. It was close, barely out of sight of the manor. She usually got them from the merchants, but they failed to deliver for the past months. You were excited to <<cycle "$iana_choice1" autoselect>> <<option "get into her good graces" 1>> <<option "prove yourself to her" 2>> <<option "help her" 3>> <<option "earn her trust and favor" 4>><</cycle>>, so you quickly agreed. The intention was never to sneak out of the premise. It just happened you found a small outcrop in the hedges you could squeeze through, in the exact direction you needed to go. It was barely leaving, the plants were right there, you could see them through the gap in the rosewall. Your only mistake was, perhaps, fixing your gaze on those herbs and not on the ground beneath you. Because one moment you were picking them in your satchel, and the next you were sliding through the underbrush. °•* [[Your foot slipped.|Ch 1.45]]

The earth gave way beneath your boots, and you tumbled, weightless for one panicked heartbeat before the world slammed back against you. Air burst from your lungs as you struck the ground hard, pain flaring through your ribs. The echo of your fall ricocheted around the cavern. For a moment there was only pain and the hollow ring of your breath inside the cave. Then the sound was swallowed almost instantly by the hush that followed. Silence. Darkness pressed in. A foul, wet scent clung to the air—stale earth, rot, and something acrid that burned the back of your throat. You forced yourself upright, fingers brushing over stone that wasn’t smooth but //sticky//. A shiver tore down your spine. The wall clung to you, thin and cloying, and when you yanked your hand back, threads of pale silk stretched between your fingers before snapping. You took a step back, something brittle cracked beneath your boot. You froze, waiting for the silence to set in again. But it never did. A //crunch// followed, soft, but deliberate. Then another. Like spindly points against stone, crushing something with their weight in a rhythm too steady to be chance. Ahead, across the black expanse, a pale glimmer pulsed, faint, almost delicate, like a candle flame fighting to survive. It painted the cavern walls with shifting shadows, making them twitch and sway as though alive. °•* [[You take a step forward, despite yourself.|Ch 1.46][$move to 0]] °•* [[You force yourself to stay put.|Ch 1.46][$move to 1]]

<<if $move is 0>>\ You felt drawn to it, and despite yourself you took a step forward, breaking some unseen carcass underfoot. The crunching seemed to echo, louder than your breath, louder than your heartbeat. The light bobbed once, its glow faint and milky, as if a lantern were smothered beneath cloth. Relief flickered, //you were safe//, but quickly soured. The light didn’t waver like flame. It pulsed, beckoning. Your eyes adjusted, and the truth of it coiled cold into your stomach. The “candle” wasn’t flame at all, but a lure, pale and glistening, dangling from a long, thin filament. Behind it loomed a shape you had mistaken for shadow: a mass of limbs, too many, all crooked and thin as spears. Eyes, dozens of them, ignited like tiny stars, all turning in your direction. A pair of mandibles clicked open, releasing a wet //pleasant// hiss that echoed through the cavern. Eight legs unfolded with a sound like cracking twigs. Behind it, the shadows shifted. The lure swayed again, //warmth filling you//. The legs twitched. Then the maw opened, wide enough to swallow you whole, and from its depths came a sound like silk tearing, slow and deliberate. Your stomach pitched, bile rising as your brain refused to name what you were seeing. Your chest heaved. You wanted to scream, to bolt, to fly, but your legs refused, trembling so hard they nearly buckled beneath you. Every instinct screamed, run, run, run, and yet the cavern seemed to stretch endlessly around you. The clicking of its legs against stone echoed, methodical, patient. You swallowed again, dry, trembling. Every heartbeat was loud, every breath shallow. You could already see your end, in this hidden cavern in the ground where no one would find you. //You had to get closer to the light.// You needed to get out. But all you could do was freeze, and stare at the pulsating orb, as the creature wrapped you //tight and safe// in its silken strands. Thin, papery leaves curl and uncurl slowly around you. Their color shifts gently between honey-gold and lavender-gray. Tranquilwisps, calm, contempt. A few Fearwisps mix with them, small shadows blinking in and out of existence. <<else>>\ You felt drawn to it, but despite the aching call inside your bones you willed yourself to still. The pale orb swayed, casting long, trembling shadows across the walls. And in those shadows the creature uncoiled itself, impossibly vast, each leg sinking into the stone with a sound too precise, too patient. A sound followed—like silk tearing, like a bowstring drawn taut. Then the weight of something unseen rippled above you, dislodging dust and grit. You froze, throat tight, every nerve screaming for you to //run//. Fearwisps trail in the corner of your vision, dark shifting smoke that never quite settles. Your foot shifted back, a scrape of broken carcases betraying you. The eyes flared brighter, turning towards you. The shimmer of its thousand eyes reflected back every flicker of fear in you, magnifying it, twisting it, making the darkness feel alive. The lure dangled lower, closer now, swinging just above your head. You lifted your hand, whether to ward it off or to reach for the light, you didn’t know, and that was when the first strand caught you. Thin as a hair, cold as ice. It clung to your wrist before you even felt the pull. You ripped back, but more threads snared, draping over your shoulder, your throat, your hair. Invisible until they touched skin, until they tightened. The cavern filled with the soft, endless whisper of silk unraveling. Not from one strand, but from hundreds. From all around. A shadow dropped in front of you, its legs like spears, a maw gaping wide, lined with teeth that glistened wetly. The pale lure swung inches from your face, glowing like a false star. The last thing you saw before it lunged was the forest of eyes blinking in unison, a constellation of hunger. <</if>>\ °•* [[The silk cinched around you.|Ch 1.47]]

<<if $move is 0>>\ You lay there in the warm cocoon, content. Your eyelids grew heavy, you could feel the orb outside still pulsating, its warmth lulling you to sleep in steady waves. Your breath came in short bursts, the air thinning, but it was alright, you were tired anyway. Something cradled you close in its embrace, the sway only deepening the urge to sleep, to give up. Your eyes fluttered close, then open again. The light flickered again through the cocoon. The silk burned your hand, but it didn’t matter, soon you wouldn’t need it anymore. You saw more than felt it, the mandible closing in, two sharp fangs slicing through the sticky threads, puncturing your shoulder. //So warm.// Almost uncomfortable, like molten fire pouring through your veins, but not enough to warrant any movement. //It was fine, everything was good.// <<else>>\ You thrashed, but each frantic movement only tangled you deeper, threads slicing into your skin with a sting sharp as glass. Your breath tore ragged from your throat as the web yanked tighter, pinning your arms, your chest, dragging you toward the waiting dark. A leg—jointed, carapace-like—pressed against your ribs, holding you as though you were nothing more than a trapped insect. The maw opened wider, a stench of rot and acid pouring out. Then came the bite. A white-hot jolt of pain seared into your shoulder, burning so deep it felt like fire in your veins. You screamed, but the sound was muffled, swallowed by the web around your mouth. The venom spread quickly—too quickly. Your legs buckled, trembling violently before going numb. Your chest heaved once, twice, then every breath came shallow, sluggish, as if your lungs were filling with stone.<</if>> Above you, the pale lure swung lazily, its false glow blurring at the edges. The constellation of eyes swam in your vision, multiplying, fracturing, until they became a single, endless darkness. The last sensation before the black took you was the brush of more silk winding around your face, cool and cloying, sealing you away. °•* [[Darkness swallowed you whole.|Ch 1.48]]

But not for long. A sharp crack split the cavern air, followed by a shriek that rattled your bones even through the haze of venom. The web around you shuddered, then tore apart under a force not your own. Arms, strong and steady, swept you up, silk strands snapping as you were pulled free from the spider’s snare. You tried to fight, to lift your head, but your body betrayed you, heavy as stone, limbs trembling uselessly. Through the blur, you caught only fragments: a glint of steel wolf mask, the low growl of a voice, the thunder of heavy boots as he moved. And then you were pressed against the hard plane of a chest, your cheek catching on armor, cool against your feverish skin, the scent of iron and pine clinging to him. The cavern fell away behind, the spider’s shrieks fading into silence. “Easy now.” The voice rumbled above you, low and familiar. Averill. The sentry who joins your little midnight gatherings. The one who looks at Dovi with warmth, who lets her win at card games. Your head lolled against his shoulder, and for a moment you swore you felt the careful shift of his hand as he cradled you closer, shielding you from the night air. “You’re safe.” he murmured, words more vow than comfort. “It’s over. Everything will be alright. Just stay awake a little longer.” Your eyes fluttered, the venom dragging you under again, but his voice followed, steady as a heartbeat. You clung to it, even as darkness claimed you a second time. “I’ve got you.” Averill whispered again, his voice a low rumble. “I’ll get you home. They’ll take care of you.” //Home.// You tried to hold onto that one word, tried to anchor yourself to it, picture the Manor in your mind, your friends, <<if $kmore is 1>> //Kael//,<</if>> as the forest blurred into an endless spinning wheel of green and steel and darkness. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.49]]

The manor was a series of half-formed impressions when you came to. Cool clothes against your fevered skin. Dovi’s mask flashing into view, her lips pressed thin and grim. Yvonne’s hand flaring golden as she grabbed your shoulder, heat surging again through you. A pair of strong arms holding you down, tight yet gentle. The room was filled with your friends' frantic whispers. A shattering sound — something delicate, like glass breaking on the stone floor. Angry voices, then hushed but sharp-edged, trying and failing not to wake you. Sleep dragged you under again and again, heavy as being pulled beneath the waves, with short respites for air, barely on the edge of consciousness. Until, finally, you surfaced. The first thing you became aware of was the silken sheets tangled around your legs, warm and smelling faintly of fresh rain and something richer, cedarwood maybe. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting the chamber into a gentle amber glow. And there, seated awkwardly in a too-elegant, plush chair beside the bed, was Kael. His broad shoulders strained against the chair’s delicate frame, one leg stretched awkwardly before him. His mask gleamed in the low light, casting strange, shifting shadows across his face. He was utterly still. Except for his hands, big and strong, curled into restless fists on the arms of the chair. As you stirred, the silken sheets rustling, his head lifted sharply. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.50]]

Kael rose at once, towering, all predatory grace and rigid restraint as he crossed to the bed. He lowered himself carefully onto the edge, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, but not so close as to touch you. “You’re awake.” he says, voice low, almost clinical. Cool, logical. As if the sight of you, pale and bandaged, didn’t shake him to his very core. You try to push yourself higher on the pillows, but the movement sends a wave of dizziness crashing over you. He catches you before you could slip, one large hand steadying your shoulder, the touch burning through the thin nightgown they had dressed you in. “I’m fine.” you manage to speak, voice hoarse. A muscle ticks in his jaw below the mask. “You were poisoned.” he says flatly. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a full day.” You swallow, guilt clogging your throat. “The $herbs were right there, I thought I’d be quick.” “You know it’s dangerous out there.” “I know. I just wanted to help.” At that, something in him fractured. <<if $kmore is 1>>\ Kael surged forward before he seemed to realize he’d moved. His hands land on either side of you, braced against the mattress, caging you in without touching, but close enough that the air between you shivered. His voice came low, rough-edged. “Don’t!” The word thrummed like a warning, but there was something else beneath it, something trembling, unguarded. “Don’t ever do that again!” His breath hitches, a fraction too quick. His head lowers, forehead to yours, cool mask pressing against your skin. You freeze, thrown by the quiet intensity in him, by the emotions he usually keeps so close to his heart. “I only…” “I could not—” He stops himself, exhaling hard through his nose and pushing away, getting up from the bed to pace the room. His hand comes up, raking through his hair, the motion jerky, almost violent. When he speaks again, the words are quieter, rawer. “I can’t—” A pause. He swallows. “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.” It wasn’t the words that caught you, it was the way he said them. Careful, restrained, as if afraid of what might break loose if he let go completely. He sits back on the edge of the bed, so close you could feel the faint warmth of him, see the measured rhythm of his breathing. The lamplight caught in his hair, in the fine tremor of his fingers where they curled against the sheets. Something in his composure was fraying, the line of his jaw too tight, his shoulders held like armor that no longer fit. You saw the effort it cost him to stay contained. To keep from reaching out. He wasn’t moving closer, but he wasn’t stepping back either. His hand rose, hesitated in the space between you. A breath. Two. The faintest tremor in the fingers of a man trying not to cross a line even as every instinct in him strained toward it. You didn’t know what he meant to do. The door burst open, your friends rushing in, breathless, relief written all over their faces. Kael jerked back as if burned, his hand dropping to his side. His whole body locked down, mask-like once more. Composed, detached, unreadable. You felt the absence of his nearness like a blow. Your friends are at your side in an instant. Nirinia places another blanket around your shoulders, grumbling. “Next time you pull a stunt like that, at least tell someone.” Dovi shoves a steaming mug into your hands, the smell of bitter tea filling the air. “Drink. It’s terrible, but it’ll make you feel better.” You laugh, a breathy, frayed sound that still manages to ease the tension in the room. Yvonne, who had been checking the bandage on your hand, gives the High Lord a knowing smile. “She’s awake now, you can relax.” “I am relaxed.” he says in his usual steady voice, stiff like a statue, arms still crossed. The laughter that followed was small and tired but real. It hung in the air with the scent of tea and warmth. Kael stood for a couple more minutes, silent and brooding, before turning on his heel and vanishing into the darkened hall without another word. But the air he left behind still crackled, charged with everything he had and hadn’t said. The others stay a little longer, making sure you are comfortable and have everything you need. <<else>> “What were you thinking?” Kael barks, stopping besides the bed, arms raised just short of grabbing your shoulders. His hands hover in the air instead, trembling with leftover panic. You blink, startled by the sharp edge in his tone. “I only…” “I could not—” he stops himself, dragging a hand through his hair, the motion wild, strange for his usual calm grace. “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you, alright?” The words, raw and unguarded, hang heavy in the air. He was close enough that you could feel the tension radiating off him, the tremor of adrenaline still coursing through his frame. His jaw clenches hard as he wrestles with emotions you don’t recall seeing him go through. “Kae, I’m fine.” you repeat softly. “That’s not the point.” he shakes his head, a low breath escaping him. “You don’t think before you jump in sometimes. And you scare me half to death every time.” The faintest ghost of a smile crosses your lips. “You sound like an overprotective brother.” “Feels like it sometimes.” he mutters, his mouth twitching despite himself. He reaches out, hesitates, then ruffles your hair with a touch so gentle it barely registered. “Just… don’t do that again, okay? I can’t lose more family.” Before you could answer, the door burst open. Your friends rush in, breathless, relief written all over their faces. Kael moves back just enough to let them swarm around you and hovers near the wall, silent, arms folded, the sharp edge of his anger softening as your friends fill the room with fussing, laughter and quiet scolding. Nirinia places another blanket around your shoulders, grumbling. “Next time you pull a stunt like that, at least tell someone.” Dovi shoves a steaming mug into your hands, the smell of bitter tea filling the air. “Drink. It’s terrible, but it’ll make you feel better.” You laugh, a breathy, frayed sound that still manages to ease the tension in the room. Yvonne, who had been checking the bandage on your hand, gave the High Lord a knowing smile. “You can stop pretending to be angry now.” Kael sniffs. “Someone has to be.” The laughter that followed was small and tired but real. It hung in the air with the scent of tea and warmth. Kael didn’t leave when the others started to drift, their voices hushed. He dragged over his chair and sat near the bed, rolling a strip of bandage between his fingers. When you started to doze, head lolling against the pillow, you felt him tug the blanket higher. “Rest.” You heard him say through the haze of sleep. Nirinia murmured something about watch shifts while Dovi mentioned bringing some food out. Yvonne stoked the dying fire in the heart. You drifted in and out of the quiet hum of their voices. <</if>>\ °•* [[Your mismatched, stubborn, infuriating family.|Ch 1.51]]

That night, after a hearty meal and a final round of ointments were spread on your wounds, your eyes close as you rest your head on the pillow and open in a by now all too familiar garden. Your nightly visits have been more frequent lately and at least once a week you’d find yourself somewhere in the castle or surrounding villages. In someone else’s dreams. It was not always Rhevan’s, or so you assumed, for you did not always find him there. Instead you walked among the people like a ghost, unseen and unheard. Sometimes, one person would look in your general direction, maybe sensing a presence, but never fully registering it there. On some rare occasions you think you somehow entered your own dream, got up from your bed, but in what was clearly not the real world. You wandered for a bit, explored the Forest Court at nighttime, watched the fireflies dance with the wisps in the forest, jumping from the petals of one night-blooming nicotiana to another. It was freeing and even comforting in a way, to be able to experience the scary and mostly unknown world around you in such a safe way. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.52]]

But tonight you find yourself in the greenhouse attached to the gardens from your first visit, vast and cathedral-like, its iron framing arched high above your heads. And with one infuriating human man grinning down at you even before you open your eyes. The scent of blooming roses and damp earth clings to the air. The night is soft and filled with the drumming pitter patter of rain on the roof, but also pouring through a few open windows, splattering on the petals around. Moonlight filters through the glass above, breaking into shards of light that scatter across his tunic. The panes fog faintly at the corners, the warm breath of countless plants exhaled into the quiet. Vines drip from rafters like emerald waterfalls. Rows of various plants and saplings in impossible colors stretch outward. You’re lying on a cool patch of grassy moss between two bushes of deep blue roses. Something pulses beneath your skin, you’ve noticed it more often in your nightly explorations. The dream world feels uncharacteristically wild with the rain and the hum vibrating inside you, ecstatic almost, until it all fades into the rhythm of your heartbeat. You blink against the haze of moonlight and his outline comes into focus, dark curls catching copper, a faint gleam of armor beneath his open coat. He’s crouched beside you, close enough that the warmth of him seeps through the thin barrier of your sleeve. “Still haven’t learned how to control it?” His voice is low and light all at once, full of laughter he doesn’t bother to hide. He plucks a petal from your hair as if to show how long you’ve been lying there, twirling it between his fingers before letting it drift away. “Or have you just missed me terribly?” °•* [[You kind of sincerely did miss him.|Ch 1.53][$missingr to 1]] °•* [[Of course he’d think something like that.|Ch 1.53][$missingr to 2]] °•* [[In a way you did, but you also know you’d see him again.|Ch 1.53][$missingr to 3]] °•* [[There was so much to do, so little time to miss him.|Ch 1.53][$missingr to 4]] °•* [[“Maybe I did.”|Ch 1.53][$missingr to 5]] °•* [[“Would it make you happy if I said yes?”|Ch 1.53][$missingr to 6]]

<<if $missingr is 1>>\ You blink against the dappled morning light, realizing he’s been standing there longer than you thought. “I guess I did. It has been a while since we’ve seen each other." You say, a small, uncertain smile tugging at your lips. “Do you just… wait for me all this time?” The question comes out softer than you intend, not teasing, more wonder than accusation. He blinks a few times, eyebrows raised, but the amusement never leaves his lips. “Didn’t expect you to say it so… genuinely.” he murmurs, turning a leaf between his fingers. You let out a quiet laugh. “Should I not have said it?” “No, no, I’m glad you did. And I did miss you too, you know. I’ve gotten used to our little talks here.” His eyes meet yours, warm and earnest. “You could have come sooner, you know?” he says. It comes out soft, with a kind of hopeful curiosity. “I don’t know how.” “Yes, we've established that.” He lets his eyes linger on you as if trying to decide his next move. After a short moment, he stretches his legs and offers you a hand to get up. “We should probably work on that.” You take his outstretched hand and he pulls you up with ease. <<elseif $missingr is 2>>\ You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Me missing you.” A slow grin curls your lips as you add. “Though I suppose someone has to feed that ego before it collapses in on itself.” The faintest flicker of amusement dances between you, his smile widening even as he pretends to take offense. “Ah, you wound me. ” he says dramatically, a hand placed on his chest in mock pain. You let out a playful laugh. “I’m sure you can take the hit.” “First you don’t show up in so long. Then you decide to obliterate my confidence.” His eyes meet yours, warm and jesting. “You could have come sooner, you know? Spare me the worry.” he says. It comes out softer than you expected, with a kind of hopeful curiosity. “I don’t know how.” you say, dropping the banter. “Yes, we've established that.” He lets his eyes linger on you as if trying to decide his next move. After a short moment, he stretches his legs and offers you a hand to get up. “We should probably work on that.” You take his outstretched hand and he pulls you up with ease. <<elseif $missingr is 3>>\ You study him for a moment, the easy tilt of his mouth, the sunlight catching in his curls, and something in your chest softens. “Maybe.” You admit quietly. “But I also just… knew you’d come.” You shrug, glancing down at your hands. “You usually do, eventually.” His smile falters—just barely, but enough to notice. “You do know it’s not up to me, right?” he murmurs, turning a leaf between his fingers. You let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, so you’re blaming it all on me then?” “A little bit.” His eyes meet yours, warm and earnest. “But you make up by always finding me,” he says. It comes out soft, with a kind of hopeful curiosity. “I don’t know how, though.” “Yes, we've established that.” He lets his eyes linger on you as if trying to decide his next move. After a short moment, he stretches his legs and offers you a hand to get up. “We should probably work on that.” You take his outstretched hand and he pulls you up with ease. <<elseif $missingr is 4>>\ You sigh, brushing the dirt from your palms as you stand. “With all the preparations for the Weeping Week I barely had time for anything." You say, meeting his eyes with a half-smile. He chuckles, the sound low and fond. “Ah, you wound me. ” he says dramatically, a hand placed on his chest in mock pain. You let out a wry laugh. “I assure you, it is not personal.” “First you don’t show up in so long. Then you decide to obliterate my confidence.” His eyes meet yours, warm and jesting. “You could have come sooner, you know? Spare me the worry.” he says. It comes out softer than you expected, with a kind of hopeful curiosity. “I don’t know how.” you say, dropping the banter. “Yes, we've established that.” He lets his eyes linger on you as if trying to decide his next move. After a short moment, he stretches his legs and offers you a hand to get up. “We should probably work on that.” You take his outstretched hand and he pulls you up with ease. <<elseif $missingr is 5>>\ You look away, pretending to inspect the grass beneath your fingers. “Maybe I did.” you say softly. The next words escape before you can stop them. “Miss you I mean.” Your throat tightens, and you glance up just long enough to catch his expression—something startled and almost tender—before you drop your gaze again. The greenhouse seems to hold its breath around you. The warm, humid air feels thick between you, fragrant with damp soil and blooming flowers. The rain dripping through the cracks stills, for just a heartbeat. He shifts his weight, the soft crunch of gravel under his boots the only sound for a moment. Then he leans closer. Not too close, enough that his knee brushes yours. “You…” he starts, then exhales, running a hand through his dark curls in a gesture you’ve seen a hundred times. “You don’t just say things like that.” He kneels next to you on the moss, his elbows resting loosely on his knees. He doesn’t reach for you, but his gaze flickers over your face as though searching for something, darting over your eyes, lingering on your lips. “I didn’t think you’d miss me.” he admits, voice quieter than before. “Not like that. Not enough to say it out loud.” Your fingers curl into the moss beside you. “It wasn’t supposed to slip out.” “I’m glad it did.” The words fall between you, soft and without expectation. He glances at your hands again, and his voice drops even lower, almost cautious, but still with that smile that said he rarely took things seriously. “I missed you too. More than I should, probably.” The admission hangs there, warm and unsettling in the sweetest way. You see his hand lift to your face, that infuriating smile widening. But stops just shy of cupping your cheek, tracing the air a hair’s breadth away. You swallow, looking anywhere but him. “We both missed each other then. His voice is steady now, gentler than the sunlight filtering through the glass. He shifts a little closer, enough that you feel the heat of him against your arm. “Are we going to do something about it?” His eyes drop dangerously to your lips again and you feel your heart lurch in your chest, head tilting instinctively. The greenhouse around you seems to exhale, every leaf leaning toward the space between you, waiting, pulling you closer. <<elseif $missingr is 6>>\ You rise slowly, brushing close enough that he has to tilt his chin down to meet your eyes. “Miss you?” you echo, a daring little smirk playing on your lips. “Would it make you happy if I said yes?” The air between you hums, his smile falters, not fading, just stuttering, as though he’d prepared for banter and got something dangerous instead. Something he didn’t quite consider, but was extremely pleased by. For a heartbeat, he simply stares at you, eyes bright, chest rising sharply, all that poised ease unraveling thread by thread. His hand twitches at his side as if fighting instinct, and when he finally speaks, his voice is lower. “You keep saying things like that,” he says, leaning closer, “and I’m going to think you actually missed me.” You hold his gaze without flinching. “Maybe I did.” You’re close enough now that the warm scent of herbs and damp soil wraps around the two of you, the greenhouse holding the moment trapped like a firefly in glass. Something bright flickers across his face. And slowly his hand lifts, stopping just shy of your wrist, letting it hang there in the air before brushing his fingers gently over your skin. He glances at your face again, and his voice drops even lower, almost cautious, but still with that smile that said he rarely took things seriously. “Well, I missed you too. More than I should, probably.” The admission hangs there, warm and unsettling in the sweetest way. “Would you stop smiling then,” you murmur, tipping your head just so, “and do something about it?” He shifts a little closer, eyes dropping dangerously to your lips. The greenhouse around you seems to exhale, every leaf leaning toward the space between you, waiting, pulling you closer. <</if>> °•* [[A crash sounds just outside the greenhouse.|Ch 1.54]]

The entire greenhouse shudders, the metal framing groaning, glass grinding. The pots rattle and a cluster of hanging vines swing like startled serpents. You both jolt back. He blinks once, the tension snapping like a thread. Then he laughs, brushing a hand through his hair again<<if $missingr is 5 or $missingr is 6>>, as if the moment that passed between you hadn’t been there at all. Like there hadn’t been a breath where everything between you had almost changed.<<else>>.<</if>> “Of course,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Perfect timing as always.” He turns, brushing his hands on his trousers, slipping back into that easy composure you’ve grown accustomed to. Heavy thumps sound right outside the glass walls, then the familiar creaking of an old iron door. You stand taller, heart thrumming, just as the vines part and something enormous pushes its way inside. The creature is massive, just a touch smaller than a dragon. It steps into the greenhouse with surprising poise for its size. It looks, for the most part, like white lion, fur like fresh snowfall, mane rippling with threads of faint gold. Great wings, white fading into gilded tips, fold tightly along its back to squeeze through the doorway. Even half-drenched, it carries itself like a crowned king. Its paws, each the size of your torso, tread delicately between pots and planters with a typical feline precision. The creature’s golden eyes sweep the room, assessing, calm and intelligent. Rhevan grins fondly and strides right to the creature’s towering foreleg. “You big menace,” he chides, affection rich in his voice. “Couldn’t wait outside?” The lion rumbles, a deep-chested sound that vibrates through the greenhouse glass, and lowers its head. Your human friend places a hand against the creature’s soaked fur. Which is exactly when the lion decides to shake. A violent, full-bodied, utterly unapologetic shake. Rainwater explodes everywhere. You shriek, uselessly trying to shield your face. He curses, and suddenly you’re both drenched, hair plastered, clothes clinging, greenhouse mist turning into a fine spray around you. Rhevan wipes water from his eyes, sputtering, trying to look unimpressed. The lion seems very pleased with itself. Even gives one of his giant paws a few licks, completely ignoring the scene it caused. You stare at the creature. Then back at Rhevan, who’s trying to keep a straight face. He fails completely and bursts into laughter. °•* [[You laugh too, the situation all kinds of bizarre.|Ch 1.55][$fel to 1]] °•* [[You wait for some kind of explanation, still in shock.|Ch 1.55][$fel to 2]]

<<if $fel is 1>> A laugh bursts out of you, unexpected and breathless, bubbling up from somewhere warm in your chest. Because what else can you do? You’re standing in a greenhouse, soaked to the bone, face-to-mane with a winged lion the size of a cottage, while the Rhevan nearly doubles over in hilarity. It’s ridiculous, surreal. And kind of wonderful. You bend at the waist, pushing wet hair out of your eyes as another laugh escapes you. “Is this normal for you?” you grin. “Not the word I would use,” he says immediately, still laughing. “But it does happen from time to time.” The lion huffs, smug. <<elseif $fel is 2>>\ You just stand there, dripping, staring at the creature as water runs down the curve of your spine. <<if $missingr is 5 or $missingr is 6>>Your heart hasn’t yet slowed from the almost-moment you shared <<else>> Your heart beats rapidly in your chest <</if>>and now this impossibly large beast is sitting in the middle of the greenhouse like it owns the place. Rhevan notices your silence and draws himself up, still breathless but sobering. “Ah—” He gestures vaguely between you and the lion. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly. No worse than a house cat.” This earns him a low growl from the creature. You blink, trying hard not to stare too much. <</if>> He wipes a line of rain from his cheek where the winged-lion drenched him, still smiling as he watches you eye the massive creature. “He’s a chimera,” he explains, patting the lion’s feathered shoulder. “A //fellkyn// to be exact.” “I haven’t seen anything like him.” You watch, mesmerized by the beautiful creature, taking silent note of the soft looking snow-white fur, the somewhat playful look that mirrored Rhevan’s. “That is the least surprising thing you said since we first met.” he chuckles. “You’ll find none in the Undying Lands of the Kindred. There are not many, but we have a few creatures that live solely on our side of the map.” You vaguely recall Kael mentioning some magical creatures that had //Softhearts//. You were curious to ask, but Rhevan continues his explanation before you get the chance. “Pegasi, griffings, fellkyn and a few smaller critters, mostly winged, are magical beings that live in the Mortal Lands and draw power from the same source we do.” You blink, automatically shaking your head. <<cycle "$magic" autoselect>> <<option "“I wish I was magic.”" 1>> <<option "“I’m not magic.”" 2>> <</cycle>> He gives you a look, eyes softening, smile faltering. “We all are, in some way.” He pondered for a moment, head swinging slowly from one side to the other. “You’re just more familiar with //their// side. Their twisted stories and half truths.” “But I can’t do magic like they can.” It was a fact you knew as you well as breathing. But for some reason Rhevan seemed adamant that you were “magic”. “That’s true, we cannot control the elements like the Kindred can, or shapeshift, curse or cure a person… But $name, you’re here, more than half a world away. In my //dreams//.” °•* [[The way he said it made you think he meant more than your visits.|Ch 1.56][$dreams to 1]] °•* [[Still doen't make any of it real.|Ch 1.56][$dreams to 0]]

<<if $dreams is 1>>\ <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ “In your dreams?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. The words slip out light and breathy, betraying the way your pulse leaps. “Ah, well, you caught me.” he says, eyes almost bashful as he peers at you, the corner of his mouth pulled in a sly curve. “You’ve plagued my regular dreams for a while now.” Your gaze drops immediately. Your fingers twist in the hem of your sleeve, and you feel your cheeks warm. “Plagued? That sounds… dramatic,” you mumble, trying for playfulness but landing squarely on flustered. He laughs softly, stepping closer, the chimera’s presence a fading blur at the edges. “Not in a bad way,” he adds quietly. You nod, still not looking at him, afraid you’ll combust if you do. <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ “In your dreams?” you ask, voice lilting, eyebrow raised in blatant challenge. “Ah, well, you caught me.” he says amused, eyes bright with mischief as he leans in just a fraction. The corner of his mouth hooks upward in a knowing smile. “You’ve plagued my regular dreams for a while now.” You scoff lightly. “Plagued? That’s bold of you. Most people find me delightful.” “Oh, I do,” he cuts in smoothly, tone warm enough to make your stomach dip. “Believe me, there are far worse things to wake up thinking about.” You blink, thrown off by his ease. “That sounds dangerously close to a compliment.” “Dangerous?” he repeats, grin sharpening. “You started this, mind you. Ask a teasing question, expect a teasing answer.” The chimera huffs behind him, like it’s tired of listening to the two of you flirt. <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ “In your dreams?” you ask, quiet and unsteady. Hope threads through the words, even though you try to smother it. “Ah, well, you caught me.” he says, eyes almost bashful as he peers at you, the corner of his mouth pulled in a sly curve. “You’ve plagued my regular dreams for a while now.” Your heart gives a painful, fluttering twist. “Plagued,” you echo, swallowing. “Does… does that bother you?” His expression softens instantly, steps carrying him closer until his voice drops to something tender. “It doesn’t bother me.” “Good,” you whisper, the word almost a confession. You look up at him, pulse rattling against your ribs. <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ “In your dreams?” you ask, tone level, controlled. You stand still, unreadable, as though the answer won’t sway you one way or the other. “Ah, well, you caught me.” he says, eyes almost bashful as he peers at you, the corner of his mouth pulled in a sly curve. “You’ve plagued my regular dreams for a while now.” You blink once. “Plagued implies repetition,” you say, voice steady. “Has it really been that often?” He stares at you, thrown by your lack of fluster, then huffs a quiet laugh. “More frequent than I’d like to admit.” “I see.” You nod, accepting this without reaction. But your hands, hidden in your long sleeves, curl just slightly, betraying the faintest tremor he can’t quite read. <</if>>\ <<elseif $dreams is 0>>\ “We barely know each other. I still half think you’re not real sometimes.” You shake your head, arms wrapping around yourself. “That may be true,” he acknowledges. “But I still think about our conversations. And I’d like to know the person who keeps walking into my dreams.” “Fair enough,” you sigh. “Let me know if you discover anything useful.”<</if>>\ He gets silent for a moment and just closes the distance, watching you with those intense brown eyes. Head tilted slightly as if he can take a better look at something inside you. When speaks after a few heartbeats, his tone is almost airy, though never losing that spark of mischief he always carries. “You’re a mystery, $name. I’m not sure you understand how intriguing you are. A human woman with no memories, infiltrating the Forest Court. Befriending them… It is unheard of.” “Ah, so that’s the real reason you keep talking to me.” “That’s part of it.” he hums, nodding his head. “But just as fascinating is what you are.” “A human woman?” you say, a bit annoyed he kept dancing around the subject. “You, my dear, are a //dreamwalker//.” “I’m sorry, I’m a what?” “A dreamwalker. I believe the name explains itself, mostly.” he teases. “I could tell you more about it in person,” he says, voice dipped in mischief. He’s leaning against a half-shattered marble pillar, looking far too pleased with himself. You understand he’s dangling the promise of truths, waiting to see if you take the bait. “In person?” you echo, curiosity winning. He nods once, curls slipping over his forehead. “I might come visit the Sun Court. Soon. After the New Year celebrations.” His gaze flicks to you, steady and knowing. “After we’re done with the boring politics, I’ll come find you in the Forest Court.” You sit up straighter despite yourself. You don’t have to think too long about it – the idea of meeting another human was, if not anything else, appealing. “Can’t wait to meet you in the real world.” you smile, genuine and excited, already wondering if he’ll come alone, or perhaps with others. You figured since he was always at the castel he was someone important, so most likely he’d at least have some guards, maybe servants. “This world is real too,” he counters, chin lifting with stubborn earnestness, as though he’d expected you to already know this. “I thought this was a dream. Your dream in fact.” you insist. “Yes, but that doesn’t make it less real,” he says, a soft tease in his tone, but quickly turning serious. He pauses, looking at you as if seeing you for the first time. “You do know you can die in here, right?” “What do you mean?” “Have they taught you nothing?” he asks, eyebrows high, eyes slightly wide. There was no more spark in his voice, a gentle concern taking place. “I haven’t really mentioned… any of this,” you finally admit, rubbing your thumb over your palm. “How very sly of you.” The smile that follows is sharper, quick as a blade catching the light. Something flickers in his eyes, something you can’t quite name. Not entirely accusation, not exactly pride, but something in between. A spark that says he’s //pleased// with this reveal, even if he tries to pretend otherwise. He shifts his stance, tilting his head like he’s studying the most delicious secret. The Kellkyn behind him turns his massive head towards you as well, his wings rustling. “Do tell me,” he says, voice low and curious. “Why didn’t you say anything to the fae?” The question hangs there, heavy. Why didn’t you say anything? °•* [[Didn’t think it was important, it was just dreams.|Ch 1.57][$secret to 1]] °•* [[Part of me wanted to have something all to myself.|Ch 1.57][$secret to 2]] °•* [[Never really found words to describe it.|Ch 1.57][$secret to 3]] °•* [[Actually, yes, I thought it wise not to show all my cards.|Ch 1.57][$secret to 4]]

<<if $secret is 1>>\ “Because I didn’t think it mattered.” You shrug, heat creeping up your neck. “I mean, it’s nothing, just dreams. I barely understand them myself, let alone know how to explain them to someone else. I figured it would sound… silly.” You rub your arm, avoiding his eyes. His expression softens, something warm, understanding. “Dreams aren’t nothing,” he says quietly. “Not ours anyway.” <<elseif $secret is 2>>\ “Because part of me just… wanted something that was mine.” Your voice comes out smaller than you intend. You swallow, searching for the right words. “Everything I am and have came from them. And they have been wonderful, truly made me feel at home. But… then you kept showing up here and—” You gesture helplessly at the dreamscape around you. “This was the one place that was just mine.” His eyes widen just a fraction, surprised, touched. “I see,” he murmurs. “And I’m honored you kept us/this for yourself.” <<elseif $secret is 3>>\ “I didn’t tell them because I don’t even know how to talk about it.” You let out a breath you’ve been holding for days. He watches you, the teasing easing from his face. “How am I supposed to explain this?” you ask. “That I see a human man who I don’t know and doesn’t know me. That we meet like this, in //dreams//. I didn’t have the vocabulary for it. Still don’t.” you shake your head. His gaze softens, understanding, patient. “You don’t need perfect words,” he says gently. “You just need truth.” <<elseif $secret is 4>>\ “Because it’s not smart to hand out every secret you have.” You cross your arms. His brows shoot up in amused approval. “They opened their home to me and let me make it my own. They have been nothing but wonderful and patient. But they’re powerful,” you continue. “I’m… not. So yes, I kept this to myself, just in case.” “You’re far more cunning than you look.” A slow, delighted grin spreads across his face. “It’s just survival.” you deadpan. “Remind me never to play cards with you.” He lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. <</if>> “It shouldn’t surprise you that I quite approve of this, regardless of your motive.” He claps his hands, then kneads them and you can almost see the various scenarios he’s running through his mind. “But there are a few things that are crucial for you to know about your powers. It cannot wait for us to meet in person, nor for you to decide if to ask //them//.” “Are we trading answers again?” “No. This is not a game anymore, you could have been seriously hurt. You can’t begin to imagine how lucky you were to stumble into my dreams.” “I’ve been in other dreams, but they rarely have people in them. Or if they do, they do not stay long and do not see me.” “All very normal things. But let’s start from the beginning.” He motions for a bench deeper into the greenhouse, the wrought iron plated beautifully like a bed or roses rising from the ground. The fellkyn follows you with lazy steps, curling his massive figure beside it and resting his head on a paw. You sit besides Rhevan, a serious expression you don’t remember ever seeing on him. @@.c;⇒ <<message '“We should start from the beginning. If this is not just a dream, what is it?”' 'uniqueID'>> “There are two worlds, separated, but entwined.” he continues. “Tel’varan’thal, The Lumenveil, The Waking Realm and Tel’varan’dhûl, The Noxenweave, The Dream Realm, all names you will hear depending on the region and religion. We use the latter ones more frequently." “Besides the too many names, it seems clear so far.” “It is thought that The Waking Realm always existed, or that the Weaver themself created it in the beginning when they created everything. But The Dream Realm, this one is ours. No one really knows how exactly it came into being, but we have legends and myths where our Gods, Might and Mercy, created a separate realm where we could escape to.” “The Kindred can’t access it?” “Everyone can enter it, just as you can both live and dream. But only humans can become aware of it, though not many. Some get that feeling of //knowing// they are asleep and within their dream.” “I thought everyone has that from time to time.” “Fewer than you’d expect. But then there are even rarer cases of humans who can enter other people’s dreams. Who can pull others into dreams, reshape them, trap them there.” he smiles, watching you with a fond curiosity. “That would be you, $name. A dreamwalker. The only one I know in our time.”@@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '“What exactly is a dreamwalker?”' 'uniqueID'>> “As I mentioned, you have the potential to fully control dreams. This entire Realm is at your command.” “So the ‘escape’ you mentioned wasn’t more metaphorical. Escape the hardships of the world, if only for a moment.” “Far from it.” he shakes his head. “For all purposes, you should treat this world as you do the other. If you sustain injuries here, they carry to The Waking Realm.” “So if I get stabbed in here, it would not be a dream. I would truly die.” “Yes. Along with any other injury, no matter how little or small.” He pauses, watching you closely. “You can, of course, enter another’s dream and kill them. No one would even begin suspecting what happened.” “That’s kind of <<cycle "$powers1" autoselect>> <<option "terrifying.”" terrifying>> <<option "fascinating.”" fascinating>><</cycle>> “I would keep quiet about this power. There are those who would seek to use you, even as untrained as you are.”@@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '”You said I’m the only dreamwalker you know of. But aren’t you one as well?”' 'uniqueID'>> “Oh, I wish. To enter a dream, or a memory at will…” His voice trails off, as if he’s already half gone in another place. “But you know so much about this.” “I am just more attuned to this realm.” he says with a small smile, a frail thing that you think doesn’t suit him. “I can tell I’m dreaming and since it is my dream I //could// learn to control small aspects of it, but I haven’t been able to do much besides change the color of the roses.” His words trail off as he considers something, then closes his eyes, his expression serene. It happens subtly and so quickly it takes your mind a second to realise that your clothes have dried, no trace of the water you’d been splashed with. “A little demonstration. It’s always easier to bring things to the initial state they entered the dream in, than alter something already existing.” “Would you need to somehow train this power?” you ask, still studying your now dried sleeve. “I think so. The more we come here, the more aligned with the magic of this realm we become. In time I might be able to stop the rain and conjure other objects around us. But you…” he shakes his head, a small laugh escaping him. “You will be able to take us into another dream entirely, the top of a cliff or the bottom of the ocean. You could also leave me there to drown, or push me down the slopes.” “I would never–” “But you would be able to.” he waves you off. “Wouldn’t you just wake up, as if from a nightmare?” “Not if you’re intentionally keeping me there, no. That is the extent of your power.”@@<</message>>@@ @@.c;⇒ <<message '“So Kindred were given their magic by the Weaver’s Loom and we get it from this Dream Realm?”' 'uniqueID'>> “Yes, we do not have the same source for our powers.” “Can the chimera also enter this realm since they draw power from here as well?” you ask, eyeing the now sleeping fellkyin, a soft purring radiating from it with each breath. “Yes, but they rarely interact with us and there are no known dreamwalkers outside of humans. They dream, same as everyone, and few become aware of it. Cloudmane is not actually here.” he turned his gaze to the fellkyn as well, voice turning fond and soft. “He is just a figment of my dreams, he will not remember you.”@@<</message>>@@ °•* [[“Are there any other things I can do with this power?”|Ch 1.58]]

“Murdering people in their sleep is not enough for you?” he chuckles. “You know that’s not what I meant.” “I know,” he sighs. “But I don’t think it’s safe for you to know this particular thing yet…” “So there is something else.” “Yes, but it is best if you do know about it. Just so you do not need to lie to your… friends.” “Why would I lie about just knowing something?” “Let’s make a deal. I will tell you this in person when we meet. But you have to promise you will not ask anyone else.” “I wouldn’t even begin to know what to ask.” “Perfect then. This matter is settled.” Rain pattered steadily against the glass panes, soft and rhythmic, turning the greenhouse into its own quiet world. The leaves around you dripped with silver, the air warm and fragrant with soil and crushed green things. He stood a short distance away, arms folded lightly as he watched you with an unreadable expression until something in him seemed to settle. “I should say this while you’re still here,” he murmured, voice low enough that the rain nearly swallowed it. You blinked, drawing your attention from a cluster of orchid buds. “Say what?” He exhaled through his nose, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t quite hide the seriousness in his eyes. “That I’m not interested in you because of your powers.” His gaze held yours, steady as a held breath. Warm humidity wrapped around you, but something in your chest went cool and still. He pushed a damp curl from his forehead, almost sheepish. “I know what it must look like. And I will not lie, being a dreamwalker is extraordinary.” His jaw tightened for a heartbeat, as leans closer. “But I look forward to your visits,” he said, quietly but without flinching from it. “More than I should.” The smallest laugh escaped him. “I find myself hoping you’ll show up again whenever I am here. And I am here often. Wondering what you’ll say this time. What you’ll be curious about learning.” Your breath caught, shallow and uncertain. His smile softened, something warm flickering beneath it. “I enjoy your company, $name” he said simply. “Powers or no powers, I like talking to you. And I’d like to keep knowing you,” he added, the softness turning almost earnest. The greenhouse fell quiet but for the rain and the slow beat of your own pulse. He didn’t reach for you. He didn’t look away. He just waited—calm, steady, and very real in the warm, rain-lit space between you. You want to get to know him better too, as… °•* [[a friend|Ch 1.59][$rfriend to 1]] °•* [[something more|Ch 1.59][$rfriend to 0]]

<<if $kmore is 1>>\ <<set $partner to "partner">>\ <<set $k_path to 1>>\ <<else>>\ <<set $partner to "closest female relative">>\ <<set $k_path to 0>> <</if>>\ <<if $rfriend is 1>>\ You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I… like being here too,” you admit, brushing your fingers along a dew-heavy leaf beside you. “Talking with you. Learning about the human side.” His shoulders loosen, some quiet relief settling over him. “You’re the only human I’ve ever met,” you add with a soft huff. “It’s… nice. Having someone who understands certain things without having to be reminded.” “Happy to be your one familiar thing.” he chuckles, low and warm. You nudge him with your shoulder as you pass, light and playful. “And I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better, too. Over time. If you’re still offering.” “Always,” he says, and his smile is easy, uncomplicated and sincere. The rain keeps pouring, steady and gentle, and for once the space between you feels simple. Not charged, not aching. Just comfortable. Two people sharing a greenhouse as a shelter from the rain. <<else>>\ The words leave you before you can think better of them. “I enjoy being here too,” you say, softer than you mean to. “More than I should.” His eyes lift to yours at that, searching and hopeful. You swallow, heat curling in your chest. “And… I’d like to keep knowing you as well.” Something shifts. The air thickens, warm and humid, humming at the edges like a held breath. He steps closer, just enough that the scent of rain and crushed leaves wraps between you, just enough that his presence fills the space. His gaze drops to your mouth for a heartbeat. Your pulse stutters. He leans in, slow enough for you to pull away, close enough that your breath catches. The world narrows to the faint brush of his exhale against your skin, the soft tilt of his head—an almost-kiss suspended in the rain-lit air. At the last second, he exhales a shaky laugh, something tender flickering across his face. Instead of your lips, he lowers his mouth to your forehead, pressing a warm, lingering kiss there. Gentle. Careful. “Not yet,” he murmurs, still smiling. He lets his thumb lightly trace your jaw as he pulls away. <<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ Your brows draw together before you can smooth them out. Your thoughts catch on his words, slipping out of rhythm. You glance at him, then away, trying to piece together the part you’re missing. “Oh. Oh, okay. Right.” You cover your cheeks with your hands. “I totally thought you were about to—never mind.” \ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ A pulse of irritation flares behind your ribs. You straighten a little, shoulders squaring in a way that doesn’t look like a challenge but absolutely feels like one. “You shouldn’t start things you don’t intend to finish,” you say, gaze drifting past him to the rain-drenched glass. \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ Heat creeps along your neck, a slow bloom you hope the dim light hides. You clear your throat, aiming for steady, but your voice dips anyway. Your cheeks go instantly warm, and you drop your gaze to your boots. “Oh. Right. Okay. I- I definitely misread that,” you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck. “That’s… fine. Totally fine.” \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ Your expression flattens with surgical precision. You give him the kind of long, level look that weighs and measures every word he just said—and finds each one wanting. One brow lifts by a fraction, just enough to make your point without a single syllable wasted. “A forehead kiss?” you say, unimpressed. “How very… brotherly.”<</if>> He chuckles softly, the sound warm enough to mist in the cool greenhouse air. “I want to kiss you properly,” he says, eyes flicking to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Out there in ‘the real world’.” “You said this was real too,” you counter. The rain patters against the glass overhead, steady and soft, like it’s trying to listen in. He tilts his head, considering you. “Hmm. In a sense,” he concedes, stepping closer until his shoulder almost brushes yours. “But nothing beats skin to skin.”<</if>> His hand slips into his pocket, fingers searching for something unseen. When they emerge, he holds a small cloth bag no bigger than his palm. “In case we don’t meet again until then,” he says, a faint nervousness threading through his voice. “A gift, for the New Year.” He offers it to you, his fingertips brushing yours as you take it. Inside, nestled in the soft fabric, lies a delicate gold necklace, a single crimson stone catching the moonlight light like a drop of living fire. “I haven’t gotten you anything,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can swallow them. “You came into my dreams,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That's enough of a gift for me.” Your breath catches at the honesty in his tone, unhurried, unguarded. He lifts his hand and motions for you to turn. You do, your hair shifting against your neck as you face the rows of glossy leaves and rain-blurred glass. His fingers brush the back of your collar as he gathers your hair gently to one side, his touch careful. The cool chain slips against your skin as he fastens the clasp. For a heartbeat afterward, his hands linger there, warm against the nape of your neck. You exhale slowly and let your fingers drift up to the gem resting just below your collarbone. “Thank you,” you whisper. The stone feels warm already, soaking up your touch. Behind you, you hear his breath, a quiet nod, as the dream starts to dissolve. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.60]]

//''Eleven months later, Saelreth, the 37th of Myrthar''// Months passed without much incident. Until recently. You were given, from what you understood, a lot of tasks that would traditionally be handled by the High Lord’s $partner. This was to the apparent dismay of the High Priestess. “I don’t understand why she has to be in charge of The Eversurge!?” Ianna’s usual calm voice is almost shrill, scandalised. “Maybe because, you know, she can actually see. It is no fun trying to decorate the place just by feeling where things are with my hands.” Nirinia argues, picking up a bundle of banners and colorful garlands as if to make a point. The fact that Ianna couldn't see it made her point hit even more. “It’s not about the decor. No one’s going to actually see it anyway.” She huffs. “It’s not like any of the other Courts can join since--” “I know that very well. But aren’t we doing this mostly for the Weaver?” This seems to give her pause, but she regains her composure quickly. “And what does she know of our Gods?” There is ire in her tone, but not direct malice towards you specifically. You get the impression she is just a stickler for rules and ‘the proper way’ to do things. <<if $k_path is 0>>\ In truth, your growing friendship with Kael was reason enough for you to want to help along the Manor. <<else>>\ In truth, your growing feelings for Kael were reason enough for you to want to help along the Manor. <</if>> The tasks were small, mostly organizational – decide where a new potted plant would go, choose colors, pick materials for a pergola in the eastern garden. <<if $k_path is 0>>\ And you were accompanied for most of them by either Dovi or Nirinia, sometimes both, with Averill tagging along here and there. On the less common occasions when Kael and Yvonne joined, you ended up doing some leisure activity after, from picnics, to strolls in the orchard. //The Stone Tossing// incident was a result of one of your late after-work gatherings. <<else>>\ Kael often accompanied you lately. Whenever the High Lord volunteered to join you, the others would scatter, leaving the two of you alone. You’d end up strolling through the gardens afterwards, him showing you different hidden nooks in the court, recounting stories from his childhood.<</if>> °•* [[Next|Ch 1.61]]

“$name will handle the festivities, it is my final decision.” Kael says with a sigh. Ianna hurries out, and if she could, you are sure she would be sending you a dirty look behind that owl mask. Instead, her head turns towards you, slightly off from your actual position, and huffs again before stomping away. It was… rather comical. Kael sighs again, a long and pained exhale that seems to deflate him entirely. “She means well…” °•* [[I know, I don’t mind her.|Ch 1.62][$next to 1, $enchant to $enchant + 5]] °•* [[She has a funny way of showing it.|Ch 1.62][$next to 2, $maiden to $maiden + 5]] °•* [[She could be nicer.|Ch 1.62][$next to 3, $nurture to $nurture + 5]] °•* [[I can tell, but she’s tiring all the same.|Ch 1.62][$next to 4, $wise to $wise + 5]]

<<if $next is 1>>\ “I don’t mind her, I think she… puts up a front sometimes. She wears strength like a mask. I can see the cracks, even if she hopes no one else does. Tries to seem tougher, more put together than she actually is.” <<elseif $$next is 2>>\ “She’s got fire, I’ll grant her that. I could even respect that she owns her strength, but damn, does it grate when every word’s a challenge.” <<elseif $$next is 3>>\ “I wish she’d be softer, kinder. Still… I know she only sharpens herself to keep from being hurt. And to keep all of you safe.” <<elseif $$next is 4>>\ “It’s smart.” you nod curtly. “Tiresome, yes! But better weary than wounded.” <</if>>\ “Still, she takes everything too literally sometimes. I know she cares, everyone in the manor knows. And sometimes it’s an asset, she’s always on guard, always prepared. But she’s our High Priestess, she should be more welcoming.” He shook his head, lips pressed in a thin line. “It got worse after–” //‘After whatever transpired forty years ago.’// you think. After whatever it was that seemed to make them pause, eat the words back up whenever they mention something relating to the strange event that happened some forty years before. “No one is telling me what exactly happened back then” you trail off, but have little hope of getting answers. “No one can.” His response was short and to the point. Quick. Practiced. “Something is preventing you from talking about it.” you guess, the confirmation coming in the form of a small, barely noticeable nod. “Like a curse?” The High Lord goes still for a moment. Too still. Then his body shuddered. It was an odd image, the tall, broad-backed male trembling like a leaf in the wind. Even the rise and fall of his chest seemed to hesitate, caught between breaths. For a moment you think he might answer, that the weight of silence would crack. But when his mouth opened, no words came. Only a faint tightening of his jaw, as if something unseen had seized his tongue. With half his face covered, his eyes ever-hidden from you, it was nigh impossible to tell his exact expression. He turns his head aside, as if to hide his face anyway. You could still see his lips pressed shut, his body locked once more in that unnatural stillness. His silence spoke louder than any denial. Whatever bound him was stronger than him, than his will. Then his voice, rougher than moments before, breaks the stillness. “Come.” he simply says. “The kitchen should keep tea brewing at this time.” You hesitate, but something in the roughness of his tone, the tentative reaching of it, makes you reconsider. You nod out of a strange habit and follow him down a narrower hall, your footsteps barely a whisper. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.63]]

The kitchen is warm and simple, all rough-hewn wood and sprawling counters, a fire burned low in the heart. A pot of tea waited in a corner. The staff always brewed some at noon, and then again before everyone went to sleep, kept warm by a gentle enchantment all through the night. It was an added comfort for your late night gatherings. The High Lord of the Forest Court moves with the easy grace of someone who had done this before, plucking two mismatched mugs from the shelves. You watch him, the golden sweep of his hair, the powerful set of his shoulders. He pours the tea with no fancy ceremony or expectations, just a simple act, as if the trappings of court life had been stripped away, leaving only Kael himself. He passes you a mug, his fingers brushing yours . <<if $k_path is 1>> A fleeting contact that sends a shiver spiraling through your chest. <<else>>The gesture is warm and reassuring.<</if>> Steam curls lazily from your cup, carrying the sharp scent of fresh tea. The kitchen light is dim but warm, lit only by the faint glow of embers in the hearth. Across the table, Kael cradles his own mug, long fingers wrapped around the clay as though savoring its heat. Neither of you speak. The silence isn’t heavy, nor strained. It simply is. Comfortable, familiar. The sort of hush that falls like moss beneath bare feet, soft and grounding. Now and then, you glance at him, the corner of his mouth twitching, but neither of you feel the need to fill the quiet with words. The crackle of the fire and the soft clink when you set your cup down are enough. For a while, you sit in silence at the long wooden table, sipping the strong, <<cycle "$tea" autoselect>> <<option "floral" floral>> <<option "fruity" fruity>> <<option "spicy" spicy>> <<option "smoky" smoky>> <<option "minty" minty>> <<option "sweet" sweet>> <<option "bitter" bitter>> <</cycle>> brew. And then you find yourself speaking, seeking answers. °•* [[“I want to know more about this holiday.”|Ch 1.64]]

“Tell me about The Eversurge.” you say softly, tracing the rim of your cup. You are in charge of decorating, but you know little beyond it being //the// most important holiday in the Forest Court. The ones you’ve participated in until then had a similar theme of flowers, honeyvine, music and general merriment. You felt, rather than saw, the way his body stiffened across the table. He sets his cup down carefully, too carefully. Then brushes his hands along the carved edge of the table, taking his time. “It’s an ancient ceremony. A celebration to honor the magic of the Loom that feeds the entire world. In texts you might have seen it referred to as The Loom of All-Threads, The First Loom or The Worldloom, but most simply call it The Loom.” he says, softly. “The Weaver’s Loom?” you ask. You read about it here and there in the many books and tomes that crossed your path, but it was never really clear what it was exactly. “Some say it is exactly like it sounds, the Weaver’s Loom, the very same They use to intertwine and spin the grand tapestry of the world itself. Everything around us is supposedly created using it. We are all patterns caught in Their cloth. Others say it is the Weaver themselves, the threads of life plated by Their very hands.” “Which do you believe?” “It does not matter which I believe, or even which one is true—only that it still spins, still weaves, whether we worship or curse it.” From the straight, taunt line of his lips, you get a vague feeling for which category he’d fall into. He falls quiet, but his fingers keep drumming a slow rhythm against the table, a steady, constant sound like the ticking of a clock. “It does not run smoothly, though.” he continues, his tone darkening. “When the Loom falters, the magic acts up, it surges, it consumes. And three times each year, it snags. In Taelreth, Caelreth and Saelreth, one in each season, a ceremony for each court.” “The Eversurge for Forest Court.” you nod, following along. “Exactly. Every 1st of Vithar, after the long Weeping Week, we hold The Eversurge. It renews the land, strengthens the magic of our courts and all Kindred alike for the start of a new and prosperous year.” “Was it held even before the Forest Court was created?” “Yes, but back then ‘the Hunter’ was chosen more chaotically. Sometimes, albeit rarely, it was someone from the other two courts. Until all the Wild Folk united under one High Lord to take up this burden.” “I was not aware… it’s a burden?” you ask, frowning slightly. Was it not a celebration like the others? With food and drink and dance and laughter. “You’ll find out eventually.” he finally answers with a long, dragged out sigh, his voice barely a whisper. You thought he might have said it more to himself than you. “I’ve told you about The Eversurge, but not about The Rite.” “I kind of thought it was one and the same.” “They are in a way. The Eversurge is the proper holiday, the reverie with all the food and dancing you’re accustomed to by now. The Rite–” he pauses, gathering his words. “It’s the religious ceremony, if you will. Where we breathe life back into the land.” He lets the words hang, as though he hopes that would be enough of an explanation for you. It isn’t. “How exactly do you do that?” you ask softly. He exhales through his nose, the sound caught between a sigh and a groan. “Through communion. Through giving of ourselves, our magic, our bodies, our intentions.” Still too vague. He hears the unspoken question in your silence before you word it outloud. “The magic chooses a vessel.” he goes on. “It fills me until I’m nothing but its will. The Hunter, the embodiment of the forest’s hunger for renewal.” His throat works, his jaw set tight. “And then through me it chooses the Maiden, someone whose power answers mine, resonates. Then, we ignite the land’s rebirth, by laying together.” °•* [[You understand then why he was being so coy about it.|Ch 1.65]]

<<if $maiden > $enchant and $maiden > $nurture and $maiden > $wise>>\ Heat slips up your neck before you can stop it, blooming beneath your skin. You try to school your face, but the image of him, offering himself to someone else, flares too bright in your mind. Still, you find your thoughts laced with a quiet, embarrassing curiosity you can’t quite smother. \ <<elseif $enchant > $maiden and $enchant > $nurture and $enchant > $wise>>\ A little grin tugs at your mouth before you can hide it. It’s wicked, involuntary, born of the sudden rush of imagining the High Lord, this composed, unreadable man, entangled in something so intimate. You look away, lips still curved, hoping he can’t hear your thoughts as loudly as you feel them. \ <<elseif $nurture > $maiden and $nurture > $enchant and $nurture > $wise>>\ A cold ripple moves through you, draining the warmth from your fingertips. The idea of him being given away like that, of his body turned into ritual instead of choice, unsettles something deep in you. You swallow hard, breath catching, unable to hide the quiet ache that shadows your expression. \ <<elseif $wise > $maiden and $wise > $nurture and $wise > $enchant>>\ You stare at his blank masked gaze, steady but tight, the kind of stare you give when logic and feeling tug in opposite directions. You understand, of course you do. Duty, magic, survival. But the knowledge sits strangely in your chest, leaving a weight behind your ribs that you can’t quite name.<</if>> “It’s not about desire.” he adds quickly, as though to defend himself. “It’s instinct. Magic using flesh as conduit. The act, the union, isn’t for pleasure. The more Kindred join the revel, the richer the magic. The stronger the match between Hunter and Maiden, the more prosperous the renewal. It’s for the ritual, for gathering the power and releasing it back into the land, into the roots that will drink from what we give. ” he pauses. “But the body doesn’t always remember that distinction.” “And you choose this Maiden?” “Every year, the magic of the Loom takes hold of me. //It// chooses a maiden through me, a female from the crowd. Sometimes it’s one I know, sometimes one I don’t. And each time, it’s like being torn apart and rebuilt into something //else//. Something unfamiliar, wilder.” You lean forward slightly, your heart squeezing in your chest. “And you have no choice in it?” His fingers flex around the handle of his cup, his jaw tightening. He doesn’t speak for a long time. “No.” he finally says, voice a little rougher than before. “At least not much of one. I could refuse the magic, could force it away from me, but it doesn’t just go back into the earth or the Loom or wherever it came from. It would find another body to inhabit, another innocent fae. Someone else would bear the burden instead of me. This is the deal my family made in order to have a High Lord and unite the wild folk into the Forest Court. Our initial purpose.” You feel the weight of his words sink in, how much it tore at him. The lack of choice. The strain that wasn’t just a curse on his body, but on his mind, his soul. “It’s not the act itself that is degrading.” he continues, his voice quieter now, as though he was letting you glimpse into something very private, very painful. “It’s the loss of self. The feeling of the magic invading every corner of my body. Of it being forced upon me, every year. To want nothing and feel everything. To be used as a vessel by something vast and uncaring, and call it //duty//.” You could feel the rawness of his words like a knife twisting in your gut. The Rite wasn’t some sweet, new year ritual, some joyful form of magic meant to refresh the land. It was a violation of his will, of his very being. He shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable and somehow small in the chair he usually dewars with his presence. “To have someone else’s will take over your own, over and over again… It makes everything feel... hollow. It makes it impossible to connect with anyone, to be with anyone.” His voice drops even lower, almost a whisper now. “Eliana hated the Rite.” You blink, trying to gather the pieces of his words. °•* [[“Eliana?”|Ch 1.66]]

The name is foreign on your lips. You can’t recall anyone mentioning her for the past months you’ve been living in the Forest Court, not even the occasional passing merchants from the Moon Court. He nods once, the briefest flicker of emotion crossing his visible features, his jaw tightening, his throat bobbing, before it was wiped away again. "Eliana was..." He pauses as he tries to find the words. "She was beautiful, fierce. More beautiful than–” He stops abruptly, the words dying in his throat as if punched out of him. “She had a light to her that shone brighter than anything else." <<if $$k_path is 1>>The way he spoke of her made her sound like something happened between them. <<cycle "$jealousy" autoselect>> <<option "It made something ugly and twisted sprout inside your heart. Was she a former lover? A female fae, majestic and powerful like all their kind tended to be." 1>> <<option "You cared little to learn more about his perfect fae lover. No, not at all." 1>> <<option "You were genuinely curious to hear more about this mysterious Fae." 0>><</cycle>> <</if>>\ “The Rite adds a strain in relationships, some participate thinking it will never be them chosen, nor their sister or their wife. But the Loom does not care about our social connections, doesn’t //feel//. It latches itself to a Maiden and guides me like a moth to flame. Eliana always thought it barbaric. And it is, we know. But how are we supposed to renew the magic otherwise?” “Was the Rite ever omitted? “Yes, only once. Though it was no easy feat and ended in the near extinction of every creature in Aequrion. Or so the history books claim - it happened so long ago not even the dragons have a living memory of it. I mentioned the power of the Loom searches for a host, relentlessly. It had been rejected by each Kindred male it connected to until dawn came and it just… fizzled out.” “What followed was a year not only without magic, but where the world itself dimmed, caving in on itself, emaciated. Entire bloodlines were erased, lesser creatures and a few plants went extinct. It is not something that anyone wants to attempt again. It might be different now, but it also could be worse.” “But even if we tried to recreate it, it would be just short of impossible.” He says it like a certainty, but there’s a bitterness under it, a quiet resignation you’ve never quite heard from him before. His shoulders settle, heavy beneath his nightshirt, as if the weight of centuries is leaning on them again. “It’s impossible to describe fully. When the magic first fills your body… you don’t think of the aftermath, that part comes later. You’re imbued with this supposedly divine energy that flows through your veins, drunk on the powers it promises.” His head is bent down, mask half hidden by a curtain of golden hair. Shadows soften the hard angles of his mask, leaving him looking almost human, almost without it. He exhales, slow, controlled, the kind that says he’s measuring how much truth to let slip. “Eliana understood the need for The Rite, but it didn’t mean she liked it.” Silence drapes over the kitchen. You hear the faint rustle of leaves outside, the soft hum of something nocturnal in the garden. He sits with the quiet. With you. And the kitchen, for a moment, feels like the only place in the world where he lets himself be a man instead of a High Lord. °•* [[Well, of course she did.|Ch 1.67][$enchant to $enchant + 5, $next to 1]] °•* [[She knew what she was getting into.|Ch 1.67][$maiden to $maiden + 5, $next to 2]] °•* [[Not many people like to share.|Ch 1.67][$nurture to $nurture + 5, $next to 3]] °•* [[She sounds like an interesting woman.|Ch 1.67][$wise to $wise + 5, $next to 4]]

<<if $k_path is 0>>\ <<if $next is 1>>\ “Well… of course,” you murmur, lowering your mug a little, steam curling against your face. “If she was your partner, she probably understood you better than anyone else. That counts for something.” <<elseif $next is 2>>\ “She knew what she was getting into,” you say softly and shift in your seat, tracing a thumb along the rim of the cup. “Power like yours… a life like yours… It takes someone grounded to accept all of you.” <<elseif $next is 3>>\ You offer a faint, dry huff of a laugh. “Not many people like to share,” you admit. “Least of all when it comes to someone important to them. I imagine you would have felt the same in her shoes.” <<elseif $next is 4>>\ A gentle, thoughtful hum slips out of you. “She sounds like an interesting woman,” you say, watching the candlelight flicker across his features. “I can see why she meant so much.”<</if>> <<elseif $k_path is 1 and $jealousy is 1>>\ <<if $next is 1>>\ “She sounds… wonderful,” you say, trying to keep your tone even. “I didn’t realize someone had held that much of you before.” Your fingers tap once against the table, betraying your unease, while your chest gives a faint, unwelcome twist. <<elseif $next is 2>>\ “I see,” you murmur, looking away for just a heartbeat too long. “It must’ve been… comforting, having someone else know you that well.” Your fingers tap once against the table, betraying your unease, while your chest gives a faint, unwelcome twist. <<elseif $next is 3>>\ “She must’ve been very special,” you say, the words tighter than you intend. “I didn’t think you let people that close.” Your fingers tap once against the table, betraying your unease, while your chest gives a faint, unwelcome twist. <<elseif $next is 4>>\ “Interesting woman indeed,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Sounds like she saw parts of you no one else has.” Your fingers tap once against the table, betraying your unease, while your chest gives a faint, unwelcome twist.<</if>> <<else>>\ <<if $next is 1>>\ “Well… of course,” you whisper, voice softer than you intended. “Anyone who really sees you, really listens and cares, would understand.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, heart giving a quiet, traitorous flutter. <<elseif $next is 2>>\ “She knew what she was getting into,” you say. “And she still chose you.” A beat passes. Your gaze drifts to his hands tightening around his forgotten mug, then back up to his masked face. “Some people would make that choice again.” <<elseif $next is 3>>\ “Not many people like to share,” you murmur, breath catching slightly. “Not when it comes to someone they… care about.” You reach your hand across the table for his, but reconsider halfway, cheeks burning. There were few times you were grateful for him being unable to see you – this was one of them. <<elseif $next is 4>>\ You smile, or at least try to as you feel it tainted with something you shouldn’t name, the corner of your mouth faltering. “She sounds like an interesting woman,” you say, voice dipping. “She saw something worth staying for.”<</if>><</if>>\ But then you ask the question that had been gnawing at you, the one that felt like it was on the tip of your tongue ever since the conversation began. “Where is she now, Eliana?” He exhales sharply, and there is a brief moment where you thought he might not answer, but he does eventually. He steadies himself, his voice quiet as he continues. “She was killed. Someone I once considered a friend snapped her neck right in front of me.” The room seemed to freeze. You feel the weight of his words, the violence of them. And then you see it– a flinch, a recoil. A twitching of his fingers, a tightening of his jaw, and his breath hitching ever so slightly as if the sound of her neck breaking was still echoing in his head, like it had just happened all over again. It wasn’t just the memory. It was the pain. It was grief. //Guiltwisps// flicker behind him, dark orbs with pale silver auras around the edges. They resembled sad translucent moons, hollowed in the center as if something had been carved out of them. “I couldn’t save her.” he whispers, the words ragged. “And I... I couldn’t save myself either, nor my people. I still can’t.” There's a sharp pang in your chest as you watch him, your gaze softening, your heart heavy with a strange mix of pity and sympathy. You see him, not just the mask, not just the powerful high elf who commands the Forest Court. But the //man// who had suffered beneath. The silence stretches between you, thick with unsaid things, unspoken words. You open your mouth to speak — but what could you possibly say? The weight of his past, the burden he still carried... How could you lift it? How could you make it better? “I am sorry.” you finally say just to fill the unbearable quiet. “It’s been only forty years since then.” Two things struck you at that moment. One was how different you saw time, how different and incompatible your lifespans were, from human to kindred, be it fae or elf. For them forty years were a blip, a fleeting moment. For you, it could very well be the rest of your existence. You’d probably be dead before they ever realise it. The second was that maybe Eliana’s death had something to do with the curse, something tragic that happened a few decades ago. You had no idea how the death of one fae could be tied up with such an odd curse. Had she cursed them when she was killed? “She was a human, just like you.” he says suddenly, almost fondly, a rare crack in his monotone voice. He gives you a half smile. //Oh//, perhaps your assumptions were not that accurate. “Back before-” He stopped, mouth twisting in an odd grimace, looking pained. “Back then, humans and kindred traded quite often. She was with a caravan one day with her family and then she decided to stay.” °•* [[“I can see why she would.”|Ch 1.68]]

<<if $k_path is 0>>\ You lean back in your chair, letting the wooden legs creak softly in the hush of the room. You give him an easy, open smile and say, “I can see why she would. You made your court feel like home, I would also stay.” No implication, no weight — just simple recognition of someone choosing a place where they felt they belonged. He stills, the faint smile on his lips softening into something thoughtful rather than surprised. The candle between you flickers, painting gold across the sharp lines of his jaw and mask. “…I would be glad of your company,” he says at last. The words are simple, but they land with weight, honest, unarmored, and not for the first time tonight, you feel not the High Lord speaking, but simply a man who values your presence. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.70]] <<elseif $k_path is 1>>\ <<if $flirt gte 50>>\ You rest your elbows on the cool wooden table, chin tilting just enough to meet his eyes. The moonlight spilling through the kitchen window paints him in silver, every line of him impossibly magnetic. “I can see why.” A small, knowing smile curves your lips as you say, low and certain. “I would too, for you.” The words linger between you, a truth you don’t bother to disguise. <<else>>\ Your fingers trace the rim of your mug, following old grooves in the ceramic as if they might save you from how intensely your heart is beating. The kitchen feels too quiet, too intimate, the shadows too gentle. “I can see why.” you murmur, unable to look at him, in case his reaction makes you reconsider. “I… I would too, for you.” It slips out softer than you meant, a small confession wrapped in all the courage you could muster.<</if>>\ For a moment, he goes perfectly still. You watch the way his breath catches, subtle, almost silent, but unmistakable in the faint tremor of his shoulders. The golden mask hides his eyes, but not the way he turns his head toward you as though trying to //feel// the shape of your words lingering in the air. “You…” His voice cracks, barely, a thin fissure running through marble. “You would stay? Here? With //me//?” A long deep crimson light slowly appears before him. It stretches, rippling slowly in your direction. A single wisp. A //Yearnwisp//. He lifts a hand as if reaching for you, his fingers hovering inches from your own, wavering, hesitating. A man who commands an entire court of ancient fae… suddenly undone by the possibility of //you//. “I didn’t think—”He stops, inhales sharply, the sound almost a gasp. You can feel the storm inside him, the way he reels from it. He sits up and shifts his weight, taking half a step toward you…but then flinches back. An enormous, elegant High Lord suddenly reduced to a bundle of nervous impulses. It would be almost endearing, if it was not beyond confusing as well. “We can’t!” he breathes, the words spilling out before he can contain them. They tremble with longing and terror both. “You don’t understand. We can’t…” he repeats, weaker this time, almost pleading with himself more than with you. He straightens, and you can sense him fighting the instinct to move closer—his hands curl once at his sides, then ease, as if he’s forcibly releasing you from whatever impulse held him. A beat. Another. Then he inhales, deep and steady, bracing himself, the breath washing over him like armour slipping back into place. “I need—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening beneath the mask. “Forgive me. I should… go.” He steps away from the table, his boots dragging against the stone floor, the kind of hesitant shift a man makes when every part of him strains toward one direction while duty pulls him in another. Then the door shuts behind him with a soft thud, almost gentle… but final in a way that echoes long after he’s gone. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.69]]<</if>>

A few days later, the gardens feel different at dusk, the season nearing its end. The air, still warm with the fading touch of the sun, carries the cool breath of the oncoming night. A thousand tiny lights float through the hedgerows, glowing fireflies bobbing like soft stars caught beneath the branches. The heavy scent of night-blooming jasmine and honeysuckle thicken with each step you take, wrapping around you like silk. You didn’t mean to wander so close to the rose pavilion — it had simply drawn you in, the low murmur of voices threading through the twilight. It was Kael and Yvonne. You meant to turn back, truly you did. But something in Kael’s voice, that rare, unguarded roughness, rooted you to the spot. So you press yourself behind the thick marble column, star jasmine climbing all around it. You listen, heart hammering in your throat. "...You’re acting like a lovesick pup," Yvonne says, amusement bright in her tone. You can almost //hear// the smirk playing on her lips. "Mooning after her like this. It's almost sweet." There is a rustle, the sound of boots scraping against gravel, followed by a heavy sigh. Kael is silent for a long moment before he answers, voice tight and low. "It's not like that." "Oh, come on," Yvonne drawls, laughter dancing around her words. “Don't insult my intelligence. Or hers.” Another pause. You strain to catch every word, the soft whistle of the evening breeze almost drowning them. "I can't." Kael says at last, the words torn from him like a wound. “Or won’t?” Yvonne pushes. "There’s something there, I won’t deny it, as impossible as it might sound with my stone-cold heart. In another life, she would have been..." He trails off, a harsh breath escaping him. "//Perfect//." Your heart twists painfully in your chest. Yvonne says nothing, and in the silence, Kael continues, voice rough with a longing that cuts deeper than any blade. “You know why, Yvonne.” he mutters, fingers drumming restlessly on stone. “I can't—" he trails off again, raggedly. “And even if I could…” he goes on, quieter now, broken in a way that makes your throat close, “It wouldn't matter. Her heart is too soft, her view on fae too kind.” Yvonne, surprisingly, doesn’t tease him this time. Her voice, when it comes, is softer, shaded with something like pity. “Doesn't stop you from wanting her, though, does it?” Another silence falls over them, lingering uncomfortably. Then Kael, almost too quietly to hear, answers. "No. It doesn’t.” A soft scuff of movement and you catch the unmistakable gleam of a copper mask as she turns her head toward where you hid, a sly, knowing smile playing at her mouth. But if she knows you’re there, she says nothing, only claps Kael roughly on the shoulder and steers him away, their footfalls fading into the dusk. You stay where you were long after they disappeared, breathing in the heavy, perfumed night, feeling the ache of Kael's words settle deep into your bones. //Perfect//, he had said. °•* [[Maybe in another life.|Ch 1.70]]

//''The Weeping Week''// It had been a long Weeping Week, the end of the year marked by an entire six days of grey skies and gentle but continuous pouring of rain. In the Forest Court, despite the murky weather, it was a time of preparation for the Eversurge and the Great Rite that followed. It was on this sixth day that you found yourself at a small celebration, a preamble to the festivities starting the next day, a relaxing night once everything was set. The revelry was already in full swing by the time you made your way to the clearing at the back of the manor grounds, a soft buzz of excitement weaving through the air like golden thread. The smell of fresh bread, ripe berries, roasted meats and sweet honey hung thick, mouthwatering and familiar. Children shrieked and laughed as they darted between towering fae, dancing in the drizzle, weaving crowns of wildflowers into one another’s hair – bright daisies, buttery marigolds, the delicate pinks of blooming foxglove. A lilting tune carried on the breeze, played by fae with flutes and harps strung with shimmering strings, and it was impossible not to feel it, the warmth and giddiness, the rightness of it. You sit for a while at one of the long wooden tables, beneath the canopy, basking in the warm glow of the glowstones, sampling morsels of fruit that burst sweetly on your tongue, honey cakes that melted into sugar between your fingers. Every few minutes, a fae or two would pull you into a conversation, and you laugh more freely than you had in a long, long time, not from politeness, but from genuine joy. You see Dovi jumping between singing with Ianna and dancing with Yvonne. Nirinia is seated near the bards, a harp in her delicate hands. And then there was Kael. You hadn’t even noticed when he picked up the fiddle, but suddenly, there he was, the string instrument cradled in his arms with almost ridiculous delicacy. His fingers moved with a grace that belied his size, coaxing music with the slender bow that was almost painful in its sweetness. High and keening, deep and thrumming. It was pure magic. °•* [[Sing along with Dovi and the others.|Ch 1.71][$party to 1]] °•* [[Play on your own instrument.|Ch 1.71][$party to 2]] °•* [[Watch the other and enjoy the music with Nirinia.|Ch 1.71][$party to 4]] °•* [[Let Yvonne drag you into a clumsy dance.|Ch 1.71][$party to 3]]

<<if $party is 1>>\ Dovi slings an arm around your shoulders, warm and familiar, and pulls you into her sway as the music surged. The fae drums thrumms through the clearing like a heartbeat, and the air shimmers with ribbons of spell-light cast by overeager dancers. Nirina plays her harp besides you, the harmonies light and fingers quick as if she was weaving a spell, not a melody. Her shoulder bumps yours as she leans into a particularly tender chord, grinning like you’ve never seen her, and you can’t help but grin back. Together, you and Dovi belt out the words to the old love song — the one everyone seems determined to resurrect at every celebration, no matter the season or occasion. <<cycle "$voice" autoselect>> <<option "Your voices aren’t beautiful, but they are loud and gloriously unrestrained." 0>> <<option "Your voice rings true, hitting each syllable with practiced ease, voice loud and gloriously unrestrained." 1>><</cycle>> Dovi leans into you, half shouting the chorus, half laughing, her breath warm against your ear. You laugh with her, letting the revel swallow you both, the stomping feet, the spinning lantern-sprites, the scent of honeywine and crushed petals drifting through the night. Yvonne shoots a shower of harmless sparks into the air, and they rain down in gentle gold, catching in yours and Dovi’s hair. She tosses her head back dramatically, still singing off-key, and with every beat of the drums you feel the joy of it settle deeper into your bones. A rare moment of freedom. A night where nothing else exists but this messy, magical celebration, and the friend clinging to you, singing like the whole forest was listening. <<elseif $party is 2>>\ Your <<cycle "$instrument" autoselect>> <<option "fiddle" fiddle>> <<option "lute" lute>> <<option "lyre" lyre>> <<option "flute" flute>> <<option "harp" harp>> <</cycle>> thrummed beneath your fingers, each note gliding into Nirina’s harmonies as though the two of you were weaving a spell, not a melody. Her shoulder bumps yours as she leans into a particularly tender chord, grinning like you’ve never seen her, and you can’t help but grin back. Dovi sings just ahead of you, her voice clear enough to slice through the haze of honeyed wine and drifting petals. Her cheeks are flushed and her curls bounce as she sings her heart out, loud, unashamed, gloriously off-key in places. The melody is one you’ve heard a thousand times at every celebration, a love song older than most of the fae gathered tonight, its words familiar enough to hum in your sleep. She throws her hands up with the last note, triumphant and breathless. The crowd erupts into cheers, and she spins back toward you, beaming like she’s just won a prize. <<elseif $party is 3>>\ You join your friends in a dance, each of you taking one of the children to spin and twirl around in a carefree/goofy dance filled with giggles and improvisations, the rain warm on your skin, sometimes bumping into each other. Then, without warning, a familiar hand looped around your arm as Yvonne, mischief evident in her bright teasing grin, tugged you to your feet. She spins you into the circle where others whirled to the music. You stumble into the rhythm at first, laughing, your $bottom billowing as you let the music fill you, let it carry you. For a moment, you aren’t human. You aren’t a stranger here. You are part of it, one of them, your heart beating in time with the music, your breath mixing with the spring-scented air. It was warm , not just from the kiss of Glowstone warmed rain or the buzzing heat of the bodies moving all around you, but from something inside you. A soft and precious thing, like a seedling rooting itself deep in your chest. Belonging. <<elseif $party is 4>>\ You sit with Nirina at the edge of it all, watching your friends, your found family, dance with abandon, their heads thrown back, their bodies slick from the warm drizzle that had begun to fall from the darkening sky. You see Averill spinning Dovi, both laughing, smiling brighter than you’ve ever seen them. Droplets cling to hair and skin, making the bonfire’s flames snap and hiss where they touched earth. It was beautiful. It was primal. And for the first time, you understood why they called this place the Wild Forest once, before it was a proper Fae Court. Endless renewal. Endless life. Endless passion. <</if>>\ <<if $k_path is 0>>\ The revel wounds down slowly, like a bonfire settling into glowing embers. Laughter softens into tired giggles, footsteps turning lazy as dancers finally surrender to the weight in their limbs. Someone dimmed the floating faelight orbs overhead until they shimmered like sleepy stars. Dovi slumped against your side, breathless and smiling, her vine-like hair sticking to her temple from hours of singing. “Thorns, I haven’t felt this alive in ages,” she murmurs, nudging you with her shoulder. Nirina leans her harp against her knee and stretches, fingers flexing in small circles. “Your rhythm was awful by the end,” she teases lightly, voice warm with affection rather than critique. “Your tempo changed every five seconds,” Dovi shoots back, and she only chuckles, conceding. Around you, your little circle, your friends, your chosen people, had settled on blankets and cushions dropped wherever exhaustion claimed them. Someone passed you a cup of cool berry wine. Someone else tucked a shawl around Dovi’s shoulders without a word. The night breeze carried the lingering scent of crushed petals and fae spice, wrapping the moment in something soft… something safe. You sank back onto a cushion, letting your head rest against Dovi’s. She hummed a tune under her breath, an echo of the love song from earlier, and the others joined in quietly, not singing anymore, just… existing in harmony. For a rare, peaceful moment, you felt perfectly held by the world. Not by magic, not by destiny, but by the simple fact that you belonged here among laughter, music, and the people who had made a foreign place feel like home. A revel’s end, yes, but the warmth lingered long after the last note fades. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.79]] \ <<else>>\ As the sun dips behind the hills and the children are gently ushered off to their beds, the mood shifts subtly. The music slows, deepens, low thrumming beats replacing the earlier cheerful clamor. Honeywine flows freely, golden and thick, painting flushed cheeks and soft, slow smiles. Fingers brushed arms a little too long, glances lingered across the fireside. The air turned humid, the very land itself seeming to thrum with anticipation, as if it, too, hungered. Even masked, even blindfolded by the curse you knew little about, Kael turns as he always did toward the sound of your laughter, your breath, your movements. His head tilts imperceptibly whenever you move, like some invisible string connecting you both guides him. You caught the flicker of a smirk on Yvonne’s face, the nudge of an elbow into Kael’s side, and the way Kael bristles, muttering something you couldn’t hear. A small, silent battle. Her smile widens, his scowl deepens and the winner is clear as the High Lord of the Forest Court approaches you. And then Kael is there, standing before you, the rain misting over his broad shoulders like a fine veil, sliding over the glinting gold of his mask. “Will you dance with me?” he asks, voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate straight through your skin. For a moment, you could do nothing but stare at the large hand extended toward you, the water beading along his fingers, at the way his eyeless mask gleams in the faelight. °•* [[Yes|Ch 1.72]] <</if>>\

You are so glad, so grateful, that he can’t see the flustered mess you surely are — your dress clinging to every curve, your heart hammering so hard you thought it might break your ribs. But you place your hand in his, your own smaller one swallowed by his warmth. He pulls you in gently, drawing you against him with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. The music slows further, a slow, sensuous rhythm beating against the patter of rain. There were no words, no teasing, no awkward fumbling. Just movement. Heat. Need. His hands find your waist with aching care, thumbs tracing idle patterns through the damp fabric. You slide your palms along the broad planes of his chest, almost feeling the steady pound of his heartbeat beneath your touch. Each time your bodies meet, the world seems to melt away a little more, until there is only the slow sway of the dance, the rain soaking through your hair, your clothes, the lingering scent of petrichor and blooming jasmine. The fire crackles, casting golden light across his sharp, strong features, across the solemn mouth, the golden hair plastered to his forehead, the careful, aching way he held you, as if you were something fragile. Something //his//. You tilted your head up, finding his mouth so, so near, and though the blindfold covered his eyes, you knew he was watching you in his own way, knew he was feeling every tremble in your body, every breathless exhale. There are no vows, no grand promises. Only the rain, the music, the heat of his hand as it cupped the back of your neck, as if he can’t help himself. And something breaks in you then, something wild and tender and terrifying. Something that whispered this was not just a dance. It was a //beginning//. And gods help you, but you want it. °•* [[You want him.|Ch 1.73]]

The dance slows to a halt, but neither of you move apart. Your heart thunders wildly against his chest, the damp fabric of your dress clinging to your trembling body, the scent of rain and smoke and something else, something hot and heavy, rising between you. His breath catches, the slightest hitch in the measured rhythm. And then you feel it, a shudder that goes through him, the way his hands tightens almost imperceptibly around your waist, nostrils flaring. He smells it. The flush of your skin. The trembling. The arousal blooming inside you like a wild, forbidden flower. A low, ragged growl tore from him, almost inaudible over the rain and fire. His hand came up slowly, reverently, fingers brushing along your jaw before he tilted your face upward — unseeing eyes masked, but every line of him straining toward you, drawn like a moth to flame. °•* [[His mouth descended on yours.|Ch 1.74][$late to 1]] °•* [[It was getting late.|Ch 1.74][$late to 0]]

<<if $late is 0>>\ <<set $k_kiss to 0>>\ “I should go, it’s getting late.” you murmur, regaining some composure. “I’ll walk you to your room.” He offers you his arm, and you take it, your fingers fitting into the crook of his elbow as though they’ve been doing so for years instead of minutes. The music fades behind you, but the echo of it still hums along your skin, where his hand rested at your waist. You walk together through the quiet corridor, the revel’s faelights spilling in muted gold from far behind. Neither of you speaks at first. The air between you is warm, charged, but calmer now, like the hush that follows a storm’s first lightning flash. As you reach your room, you feel his attention shift toward you, even through the golden mask hiding his eyes. It’s strange how you can sense him looking, the weight of it. You swallow, suddenly aware of how close you still are, your hip brushing his with each shared step. “I’m glad you asked me to dance,” you say quietly. “I didn’t expect…” You trail off, unsure what you meant to confess: the warmth, the confusion, the way you felt seen even by someone who cannot see. “Neither did I.” He breathes out, a sound barely there but full of something aching. You should release his arm, but your hand lingers—just a second too long for simple courtesy. “Goodnight, Kael” you whisper, lifting your gaze to where his eyes must be. He tilts his head, as if memorizing your voice, your shape, the nearness of you. “Goodnight, $name” he echoes, softer still. For a moment, neither of you moves. Then he steps back, retreating with the careful grace of someone afraid to overstep a line that he very much wants to cross. The warmth of his arm leaves your hand tingling. You slip into your room with your heart thrumming, from the dance, from the way he made even the walk afterward feel like something intimate, something new, something not yet spoken aloud. And when the door closes, you realize you’re smiling. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.79]] <<else>>\ <<set $k_kiss to 1>>\ It is not soft. It is not tentative. It is everything — all the aching, desperate wanting that had been building between you, crashing like a tidal wave. His lips crush against yours, claiming you in a kiss so fierce, so deep it knocks the very air from your lungs. His scent envelops you, cedar and fresh earth and something darker underneath, something you could drown in and never want to surface. You gasp against him, and he swallows the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he had been starving for you, like he needs to taste every part of you or be undone. Your fingers scramble for purchase, knotting into the soaked fabric of his tunic, and he lifts you without a word, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His hands grip you, one anchoring at your thigh, the other curling into your hair, as if he could fuse you to him, as if even that wouldn't be enough. You barely register the stunned silence that fell over the revelers still left outside, the way a few turn, wide-eyed, as Kael, High Lord of the Spring Court, staggers backward with you in his arms, mouth still locked on yours, not sparing a single glance for anyone else. There was only you. Only this. You barely make it inside, up the grand stairs and in the hallway of your room. You are pressed against the door, his hot breath ghosting over your lips, his face inches away, but unmoving. You push a strand of golden hair away from his mask, finger gliding over his scalp. He growls, low and desperate, inching ever so closer. “You’re making this very hard to resist.” The tip of his cold mask brushes your nose, and you wrap your arms around his thick neck. °•* [["Then why resist?"|Ch 1.75][$resist to 0]] °•* [[“We should stop.”|Ch 1.75][$resist to 1]]<</if>>

<<if $resist is 1>>\ <<set $k_sex to 0>>\ The words go straight through you, cutting through the haze of wine and want. Your pulse jumps. The world sharpens. You force yourself to breathe, to center, to step back from the precipice you both nearly tumbled down. “We should…” You swallow, the taste of him still on your lips. “We should stop. For now.” His jaw tenses beneath the mask, but he nods. Slowly. As if pulling himself back from a cliff’s edge. “Of course,” he says softly. “Just say the word, and I’ll follow it.” He takes half a step away, just enough to breathe again. The air between you still thrums, delicate and dangerous. Neither of you fully breaks the moment, you simply let it settle, warm and dangerous. Let it cool. Let it become something you can both look at clearly when morning comes. “Goodnight, Kael” you whisper, lifting your gaze to where his eyes must be. He tilts his head, as if memorizing your voice, your shape, the nearness of you. “Goodnight, $name” he echoes, softer still. For a moment, neither of you moves. Then he takes another step back, retreating with the careful grace of someone afraid to overstep a line that he very much wants to cross. The warmth of his arm leaves your hand tingling. You slip into your room with your heart thrumming, from the dance, from the kiss, from the way he made even the walk afterward feel like something intimate, something new, something not yet spoken aloud. And when the door closes, you realize you’re smiling. °•* [[Next|Ch 1.79]] <<else>>\ <<set $k_sex to 1>>\ “Why resis-” You are cut off by his mouth on yours, hot and needy. It is everything you imagined, even with teeth clashing and a golden leaf poking at your cheek. Far from perfect, but genuine and //raw//. You are squeezed between his strong arms and the door behind you, still in the dimly lit hallway where anyone could walk by. You moan and his tongue brushes between your lips, sliding against yours. He tastes sweet, like rose wine, and you can’t help but sigh into the kiss, relaxing completely in his arms, sure everything would be alright as long as you were encased there in his arms. “If we go any further-” He finds the will to pull away, barely, lips moving from your mouth to trail along your cheek and jaw as he whispers the words. A warning. A promise. “Yes.” You cut him off in a breathy gasp. You weren’t sure if you'd ever understood when people said they were ‘drunk on someone’ before that moment. You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, you only hoped it would be aligned with your hopes. Later, certainly, you’ll figure it out. //Together.// You feel the door opening, pulling yourself closer to him when the pressure from behind disappears, hearing it close with too much force as he steps into your room, one hand still holding your thigh. °•* [[You let him undress you.|Ch 1.76][$fade to 1]] °•* [[You hastily pull at his clothes.|Ch 1.76][$fade to 2]] °•* [[The night passed like a blur. (Fade to black)|Ch 1.76][$fade to 0]] <</if>>\

<<if $fade is 0>>\ There were little words exchanged that night, there was no need for any as he lifted you higher up on the bed and crawled on top, his chest levelling with yours. No words, as he kissed you again as you became one, your legs wrapping around his waist once more. No other sounds in the room beside the ones of your lovemaking. There are few words exchanged that night—only breaths, only the quiet ache of wanting finally given shape. When his hands slide to your hips and lift you further onto the bed, the motion feels weightless, reverent, as though he’s afraid you might slip away if he isn’t gentle. The room tilts around you, warm and dim, lit only by a few dying faelights humming softly in their sconces. He follows you up the mattress with a slow, consuming inevitability, bracing himself above you, his chest aligned with yours. For a moment he pauses, just long enough for you to feel the tremor in his breath, the restraint pulled tight like a thread between you. His forehead brushes yours, a ghost of contact filled with everything he hasn’t yet said. Then his mouth finds yours again. The kiss is unhurried this time, deeper, searching, as though he’s memorizing the shape of your lips, the way you gasp softly against him. Your fingers curl into his shoulders, drawing him closer, guiding him without words. He lets out a low sound, barely contained, and the last of his hesitation melts like dew under sunlight. Heat unfurls between you, soft at first, then blooming, spreading, taking up the whole world. Your legs wrap around his waist, instinctive, inviting, and he exhales against your neck, the warmth of it sending sparks racing down your spine. The bed dips under his weight, the faint rustle of sheets mingling with your breaths. You feel him move against you, feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. Everything is said in the way he touches you—careful but hungry, reverent but undone. In the quiet, your soft sighs and his whispered exhale weave together, filling the space where words might have lived. The world fades into warmth, into shadow, into the rhythm of two becoming one, steady and certain, with him wrapped around you and your fingers still tangled in his hair as the night holds you both. \ <<elseif $fade is 1>>\ Your clothes were ripped from your body before your back could hit the mattress, a feat you might have been surprised by if not for the utter relief you felt when his hands roamed more of your skin, if not for his mouth now on your breast, fingers digging into your hips, your thighs. You tried to suppress your moans, a hand coming to keep them from spilling out of you. But he stopped and took your wrist into his hand, dwarfed by it, and brought it to his lips. “Let me hear you.” His words stuck between a plea and a demand, as he kissed his way up your arms, nipping down the slope of your neck and licking along your breasts. Your breath hitched each time his mouth came down onto your skin, his hands leaving trails of static, tiny shivers that welled inside you. He spread your knees apart as he reached down your stomach, lowering himself between your legs. His tongue was inside you without warning, the cool metal of his mask pressed against your clit. You moaned, thighs pressing against the sides of his head on instinct, pushing him even deeper. He groaned, breathing you in, lapping and sucking as a male possessed. You came fast and hard, months of tension, of lingering touches and heated glances, all having built up to that release. There were no words exchanged, there was no need for any as he lifted you higher up on the bed and crawled on top, his chest levelling with yours. No words, as he kissed you again while he buried his cock inside you, stretching you so wonderfully, so completely, your legs wrapping around his waist once more. No sounds in the room beside the slapping of skin on skin and heated whines. You panted and moaned his name, barely keeping up with his feral pace, your body arching toward him as his head dropped to your shoulder. He whispered something then, between the heavy breaths and low groans, but you couldn’t quite string the meaning, if there was any to it at all. He sucked on your neck, right below your ear, before plunging his teeth in the sensitive skin. You felt a need to anchor yourself to him too, the point where your bodies merged not enough. You wanted more. You Needed it as much as air. Your nails left traces on his broad shoulders, little crescent marks to pepper his sun kissed skin. He changed positions, hand tracing one of your thighs and hooking behind your knee, pushing it further apart. He lifted himself on his knees, gripping your waist to pull you towards him as he thrusted. Your toes curled at the new angle, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you, pelvis rubbing against your clit with each move. He growled above you as you came, as if he’d felt it right before you, pumping into you with a renewed vigour. You shook with the release, back arching, the tingling feeling washing over you in hot wave after wave, eyes screwed shut so tightly you saw white. Kael leaned back down after a few more pumps and wrapped one arm around you, holding you so tightly breathing became harder. He found that same spot on your neck and sunk his teeth back in, never breaking skin, but relentless nonetheless. You felt him twitch inside you, shaking with a low growl as he came. You stayed like that for a while longer, his hips still moving slowly as you both came down from your high, but that arm around you never lessened its grip until long into the night. \ <<elseif $fade is 2>>\ You pushed his shirt aside, some buttons flying, some managing to hang on. Your lips fell on his neck, his head falling backwards as he sat on the edge of the bed. You straddled him, hips grinding on him in a languid motion. Feeling bold, you nipped at the sensitive skin, right between neck and shoulder. You didn’t think you could get more aroused, until you felt the growl vibrate in his chest, his throat bobbing as he swallowed a gasp, fingers digging into your hips, pressing you down on his growing bulge. You were doing this to him, to the stoic High Lord of Spring, you were the source of his lust. You pushed him back, urging him to lay down as you shimmied between his legs. He watched you from behind that gilded mask, resting on his elbows, as you released his member from his pants. You wished you could see him, all of him, as you wrapped your lips around his cock. You damned that stupid mask for hiding his expressions from you, his eyes forever behind the golden leaves. You licked the undershaft, from bottom to tip, and wrapped your lips tightly around him again. His hips bucked slightly, doing his best to hold back. You were lost in your ministrations for a while, head bobbing dutifully in time with the hand pressed at the base of him. You felt his fingers tracing your cheek, bringing attention back to him and stopping your movement. “Another time.” He said, voice strained with hunger, as he pulled you up into his arms and crashed his lips on yours. There were no words exchanged, there was no need for any as he lifted you higher up on the bed and crawled on top, his chest levelling with yours. No words, as he kissed you again while he buried his cock inside you, stretching you so wonderfully, so completely, your legs wrapping around his waist once more. No sounds in the room beside the slapping of skin on skin and heated whines. You panted and moaned his name, barely keeping up with his feral pace, your body arching toward him as his head dropped to your shoulder. He whispered something then, between the heavy breaths and low groans, but you couldn’t quite string the meaning, if there was any to it at all. He sucked on your neck, right below your ear, before plunging his teeth in the sensitive skin. You felt a need to anchor yourself to him too, the point where your bodies merged not enough. You wanted more. You Needed it as much as air. Your nails left traces on his broad shoulders, little crescent marks to pepper his sun kissed skin. He changed positions, hand tracing one of your thighs and hooking behind your knee, pushing it further apart. He lifted himself on his knees, gripping your waist to pull you towards him as he thrusted. Your toes curled at the new angle, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you, pelvis rubbing against your clit with each move. He growled above you as you came, as if he’d felt it right before you, pumping into you with a renewed vigour. You shook with the release, back arching, the tingling feeling washing over you in hot wave after wave, eyes screwed shut so tightly you saw white. Kael leaned back down after a few more pumps and wrapped one arm around you, holding you so tightly breathing became harder. He found that same spot on your neck and sunk his teeth back in, never breaking skin, but relentless nonetheless. You felt him twitch inside you, shaking with a low growl as he came. You stayed like that for a while longer, his hips still moving slowly as you both came down from your high, but that arm around you never lessened its grip until long into the night. <</if>>\ °•* [[Next|Ch 1.77]]

<<if $expo is 1>> You feel your cheeks heating, blood rushing through you at the thought of doing something so intimate, so openly. You are not sure… if you could do it. Would it be more like a performance? Could you really lose yourself in the moment with people probably watching you? <<else>>\ You feel your stomach tying into knots, the mental image of you two fucking, the main couple between others that are doing the same, suddenly very appealing. You wanted them to see that he chose you from so many others, to watch with longing the pleasure you bring each other and wish it was them there at the centre of it all.<</if>>\ “Would it even work since I'm human?” From what you understood, he would not be completely in control that night, drunk on the powerful magic that would enter his body. Was there not a need for this maiden to possess some power of her own? Was she not chosen based on some requirements or rules? “Honestly I don't know, I doubt it's ever been done before, at least in recent memory. But I don't want to do it with anyone else but you.” He nuzzles his chin in the crook of your neck, inhaling you and placing a soft kiss on the tender skin he bit moments before, then tenses, his body completely rigid against you. “Only if you want to as well. I-” There was an uncertainty in his voice, a wavering that chipped at your heart. His hands tighten on your arms, holding onto you as if you could disappear at any moment. You feel it in that moment, how much it would break him if you asked him to lay with someone else. You can’t help but wonder how much the previous times in his over 300 years of being High Lord have taken a toll on him, expected once a year to give his body up to whatever mystical powers took over him. You couldn’t deny him, a surge of protectiveness filling your own senses. “I would allow no one else there with you.” You lift a hand to move away a strand of hair and he leans into your touch, groaning when the mask is in the way of your skin. He brings his own hand over yours, and moves his head to plant a kiss in your palm. °•* [[Whatever tomorrow brings, you’ll face it together.|Ch 1.79]]

You lie tangled together in the dim glow of the fealights, after hours of slow kisses and soft caresses. His head was heavy on your chest, the now warm metal of his mask grazing against your heated skin. The rest of him weighs over you, one arm securing you closer to his body, not as tightly as before, but a constant reassuring pressure at your waist. You can feel his heartbeat, slow now, steady. One of his hands is tracing soft, absent circles along your hip. It isn’t deliberate seduction, not anymore, just the unconscious need to keep touching, to reassure himself you’re still here. “You’re quiet,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a breath. You tilt your face enough to catch the line of his jaw, the way the light softens the angles of it. “So are you,” he whispers back, and the low rumble of it vibrates through you. He presses a slow, lingering kiss to your collarbone, deeply tender. “I… don’t want to disturb this.” Another kiss, this time trailing up your neck, nuzzling into your hair. “If this is a dream,” he whispers, “don’t wake me.” Your fingers curl against him, brushing lightly over his ribs, up to the curve of his shoulder, making him shiver. The world feels impossibly still around you. It’s just the two of you, just two people learning the shape of peace in each other’s arms. After a while, he speaks again, so quietly you almost miss it. “Will you be my Maiden tomorrow?” He asked, You knew about Calanmai and what was supposed to happen, about the Great Rite he was to perform just a day away, about the magic that needed to be released to spread throughout the lands and allow crops to grow until the next year. The thought of having sex with him so close to other people °•* [[made you suddenly very shy.|Ch 1.78][$expo to 1, $flirt to $flirt - 5]] °•* [[evoked a giddy feeling in your stomach.|Ch 1.78][$expo to 2, $flirt to $flirt + 5]]

<<if $k_kiss is 0>>\ You lingered in bed the next morning for barely a heartbeat, before being pulled out of its comfort by the duties and preparations for the festival. But you'd sneak a break at noon with your closest friends, hiding in the hedge maze from the priestesses and maids that flocked around you with paints and delicate fabrics. Yvonne laughed, pulling you along the twists and turns with expert ease. Kael trailed behind you, his jaw taunt, but a tentative smile still lingering. Nirinia, ever dutiful, was carrying a basket with fresh baked goods from the kitchen, surely stolen with Dovi’s help. At the end of your little escape group were Dovi and Averill, whispering and giggling, hand in hand. You’d sit there on the grass, between rows of peonies, bluebells and forget-me-nots, your back against a tall green wall of the maze, laughing and eating with your friends. “Thank you,” you murmur at one point, the words slipping out before you can think better of them. A fond smile tugs wider at your lips, the kind that rises from somewhere deep, warm, and long-starved. The High Lord stills beside you. You feel his attention shift, angled toward you despite the golden mask covering his eyes. “Whatever for?” he asks, voice gentle, genuinely puzzled in the way he always is when kindness comes back to him unexpectedly. “For giving me a place where I belong,” you say, the words coming out quieter than you intend, soaked in honesty. “For… letting me be part of this. Part of your courts and your family.” Your throat tightens, just a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this at peace.” The warmth in you blooms brighter. Maybe it’s the faint sweetness of the wine, or maybe it’s simply the comfort of their presence. The moment hums with a gentle rightness and you find yourself hoping every day could be as serene and joy-filled as this one. The shadows ripple first between the hedges. A soft distortion at the edge of the garden, in the nooks behind the pillars, the kind that makes the hairs on your arms lift before your mind can catch up. Then the darkness thickens, as though night itself is drawing breath. He steps out of it like it was nothing more than a curtain. The air chills. The colors dull around him. Even the laughter from down the hall sounds suddenly distant, muffled by some unseen veil. ''“Why, isn’t this heartwarming?”'' he purrs, the words low and silken and far too amused. His voice is a velvet threat, smooth and dark, and edged with a smile you can hear even if you can’t yet see it. A smile that promises he’s already three steps ahead of everyone and enjoying every moment of it. You can barely remember your friends voices, their laughter, but their screams and roars that day as the High Lord of the Moon Court spirited you away, still ring in your ears today, almost a decade later. °•* [[End Chapter|Ch 1.81]] <<else>> You'd spend the next morning in bed, before finally being pulled apart by the duties and preparations for the festival. But you'd sneak a break at noon, hiding in the hedge maze from the priestesses and maids that flocked around you with paints and delicate fabrics. He laughed, pulling you along the twists and turns, golden hair catching the midday sun. You sit there on the grass, between rows of peonies, bluebells and forget-me-nots, his back against a tall green wall of the maze and he pulls you on his lap, foreheads pressed together. “Thank you.” He breathes out at last and you push away to look at him, the smile spreading wider on your lips. “Whatever for?” “For finding your way to me.” He kisses your temple, right over where he knew an emerald from his mask had poked at the skin. “For bringing me hope.” A kiss on the tip of your nose. “For showing me this frozen heart could beat again.” The shadows ripple first between the hedges. A soft distortion at the edge of the garden, in the nooks behind the pillars, the kind that makes the hairs on your arms lift before your mind can catch up. Then the darkness thickens, as though night itself is drawing breath. He steps out of it like it was nothing more than a curtain. The air chills. The colors dull around him. Even the laughter from down the hall sounds suddenly distant, muffled by some unseen veil. ''“Why, isn’t this heartwarming?”'' he purrs, the words low and silken and far too amused. His voice is a velvet threat, smooth and dark, and edged with a smile you can hear even if you can’t yet see it. A smile that promises he’s already three steps ahead of everyone and enjoying every moment of it. You can’t remember the sound of Kael's laughter, but his screams and roars that day as the High Lord of the Moon Court spirited you away, still ring in your ears today, almost a decade later. °•* [[Kael's POV|Ch 1.80]] °•* [[End Chapter|Ch 1.81]] <</if>>

That was the end of Chapter 1 and this WIP, thank you for reading. The next chapter will be released when I finish writing it^^ You can drop me any questions and bugs at: [[Tumblr Dev blog|https://theostwistedtales.tumblr.com/]] And honestly, how obvious is it I have no idea how to swim? :))

//''Kael’s POV''// She was in his arms. The warmth of her still lingered on his skin — her breath fanning over his skin, her laughter a sweet melody in his ears, the sweet, rain-soft scent of her hair as she ran through the hedges and he caught her. The feeling of twirling her in his grasp. She had kissed him then, in that secret pocket of the garden, pressed her smile against his mouth with a joy he could feel reverberate in his bones. Then she was wasn't. Power rushed in like a gale, cold and dark and wrong. Kael’s instincts screamed a moment too late. A pulse of violent magic whipped the air from his lungs. He reached blindly, but her body was no longer there. The //snap// cracked old wounds open. A sound he had not heard in so many years. A sound that had haunted every silence. It carved itself now into his mind all over again. The memory of Eliana. Of Aurellastra’s hand gripping her neck. Of her limp body dropped like refuse at his feet. And now she did it again, to //her//, to $name. He stood motionless for a heartbeat too long, the cursed mask a golden cage over his sight. He could not see her fall, could not see her body go limp, but it chokes him all the same. His ears, his nose, every fiber of his being tells him what happened, recreates the picture his eyes do not see. His heart does not break. ''It shatters.'' Kael’s scream echoes through the Forest Court. He falls to his knees. Hands in the grass. In the soil. As if he can anchor himself to the land before it slips from him too. He lets out a choked sob that twists into a roar, desperate, strangled. And then he destroys everything in his anger. The empty hedge maze explodes into chaos, winds bursting from his outstretched hands, cutting through the carefully tended leaves she had brushed her fingers over just moments before. The garden trembles under the force of his rage. Statues crack. A marble fountain cracks. Flowering trees wither beneath a rising tornado gone mad. He tears through the world as if it could be punished for letting her go. The food they shared that morning splinters beneath his claws, the linen cloth torn to shreds. He strikes a stone pillar with his full strength, until his knuckles bleed, until the rock fractures beneath him and he is forced to lean into it, panting. He presses his forehead against the crumbling wall. He stands there for a long while. His chest rising and falling with violent rhythm. His hands tremble, claws still tipped in blood. He whispers her name, $name. His throat is raw, and the deafening silence that follows felt worse than anything else. The absence. The void. The last time this happened, when Eliana died, he had sworn never again. Never to feel that helpless. Never to love what could be taken from him. He had buried that softness, locked it behind decades of stone. But $name had found it again. Melted it despite the curse. Only to be ripped away once more, //snapped away//, like a bone broken in a careless grip. The sound of it still rings in his skull, a maddening, insistent echo. So he locks it down. Bit by bit. Breath by breath. The wind calms. His shoulders draw back. He shivers as molten, merciless fury simmers beneath every line of his body. His hands no longer tremble, they curl into fists at his sides, slow and tight. He didn’t know how yet, but that miserable old shrew would answer for this! This time she won’t get away with it! The stars would bow, the lands would crumble. The Fae Courts would bleed, along with everyone who played her games. And Kael, his heart half-buried in ash, would be there to watch the life leave those red soulless eyes that haunted him for half his life. °•* [[End Chapter|Ch 1.81]]

🎭 Wits - Fellow enslave merman - The Harrowed Fool - The Broken Song The Jester, known to most as simply Wits, is a figure of both mystery and sorrow—a mad, ancient being bound in silence. His once-haunting voice, said to have been able to tame storms and lure ships to ruin, is long gone. Around his throat lies a heavy iron chain, its weight both physical and symbolic. Beneath it festers an old, unhealed wound, raw and angry, like a cursed reminder of what he once was. His eyes are the color of the open sea, deep, fathomless, and glimmering with a thousand unspoken tragedies. His hair falls in wet, tangled strands, sometimes adorned with bits of shell or seaweed, like he never quite left the ocean behind. Though his madness often masks it, there is a keen intelligence in his gaze, something sharp and old and watching. Despite his wild, erratic laughter and eerie presence in Regina’s court, he moves with a fluid grace that betrays his aquatic origins. His smile rarely reaches his eyes. When he dances or mocks, there is always a shadow of pain lingering beneath the performance. A melody unsung, a scream forever trapped behind sealed lips. Tropes: hmmm yes… spoilers… too big… the spoilers! but still in the realm of fated love. [[Back to the RO Profiles|Cast]] [[Return to Game|$return]]

🔥 Orin - Heir of the Sun Court - The Second Sun - The Tempered Spark The Sun Court Heir is a prince draped in gold but shadowed by doubt. Though he sits in silks of cobalt and sun-burnished bronze, his presence is tempered by the ache of never being quite enough. A second son, a “spare”, only heir due to his runaway sister, he bears only one undeniable inheritance from his father—their burning, golden eyes, bright and watchful like the desert sun at its zenith. His features are sharp with restraint, noble yet guarded, a face that learned too young how to mask longing with indifference. His skin is a rich, warm bronze, like polished mahogany brushed with gold. It glows under the light, a quiet defiance. His sharp cheekbones and long, narrow face give him a regal, almost ethereal look, made all the more intense by the golden eyes that smolder from beneath his dark lashes. His dark, unruly hair falls around him like a storm held at bay, often half-shadowing the glint of his gaze. Around his neck, gold rests heavy—symbols of a court that praises brilliance but rarely kindness. He is not cruel, only carved from years of being overlooked. Beneath the gold, beneath the practiced poise, is a longing to be seen, for who he is, not who he failed to be. And in his rare, quiet moments, when no one is looking, he turns his golden eyes toward you. Tropes: a bit of a corruption arc? Manipulation turned obsession? [[Back to the RO Profiles|Cast]] [[Return to Game|$return]]