#it swept something in me / something ancient and full of light.

[swordheld]

from the introduction to "the sovereign sun" selected poems by odysseus elytis, trans. and introduction by kimon friar. [id in alt text]

[cinder-wrought]

Some stories don’t just entertain you, they shape you. They become part of your inner mythology, quietly influencing how you see the world and yourself. For me, The Lord of the Rings was one of those stories. Long before I understood its depth, I felt its weight. It wasn’t just the adventure or the battles or the magic. It was the sense that there was a vast, ancient world just behind the curtain of this one, full of language, loss, and quiet courage. And I wanted to live there. Not just visit, but understand it, piece by piece.

I started with The Hobbit. It’s technically a children’s book, but to me, it felt like something far older and more mysterious. What first grabbed me weren’t the goblins or Gollum. It was the Dwarven runes. I spent an entire night translating the symbols on the cover, realizing some of the letters matched the title. I didn’t even know what I was doing, but I was obsessed with cracking the code. Only later did I find out the introduction explained it all. But by then, I had already figure out every letter's equivalent English glyph.

That moment set something in motion. I wasn’t just reading a fantasy story. I was beginning a lifelong fascination with language, symbols, and the hidden layers of storytelling. When the films came out, it felt like the world I had only imagined had suddenly stepped into reality. The scale, the emotion, the music, it swept me away.

From there, I started learning Elvish. Not because I thought I’d ever use it, but because I wanted to understand it. I wanted to sit with the same beauty and care Tolkien poured into every word. The way his languages were rooted in history and myth made Middle-earth feel like a place you could find on a map if you just looked hard enough.

That curiosity pulled me deeper. I started reading the expanded works. The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, the appendices, the letters. I wanted to know about the First Age, the Valar, the ancient wars and sorrows that shaped the world long before Bilbo ever found the Ring. I was drawn to the tragedy and grandeur of it all. The way history echoed forward, how the light of the Two Trees still touched the edges of the Third Age like a fading memory.

Some of my earliest and most enduring friendships were forged over The Lord of the Rings. We traded favorite characters like sacred names, debated Elves vs. Dwarves like it actually mattered, and built elaborate inside jokes steeped in Middle-earth lore and behind the scenes trivia from the films. When I got into D&D, I couldn’t help but carry that influence with me. I made characters with the moral weight of Númenórean kings or the quiet resilience of a hobbit far from home. I didn’t want to just play the game. I wanted to tell stories that felt like they could have been whispered into a campfire by an old ranger on watch.

And to this day, I still wear a silver One Ring replica I got in middle school. It’s not flashy, but it’s meaningful. A tiny symbol of a much larger world that continues to live in me. A reminder that the stories we grow up with don’t always stay on the page. Sometimes, they become part of who we are.

The Lord of the Rings taught me that true strength often looks like perseverance, not power. That hope can exist even in the face of sorrow. That history matters. Not just the grand heroic moments, but the quiet choices that echo across time. It made me believe in the power of language, the weight of promises, and the beauty of stories that dare to dream of a better world. Middle-earth may be fictional, but the way it shaped me is very real. Tolkien didn’t just build a world. He built a doorway. And I’ve been walking through it ever since.

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.8 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terrasen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warning: Slight depiction of violence

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There was the moon, casting a silvery trail across the dark waters of the shore where y/n stood. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the rocks filled the air, a soothing lullaby that mingled with the gentle breeze brushing through her hair.

She gazed up at the luminous orb hanging high in the night sky, its glow casting ethereal shadows across the sands. The shore stretched out before her, a tranquil expanse where the land met the sea in an eternal dance of tide and time. 

With each step, y/n felt the cool sand shift beneath her feet, grounding her in the present moment. The moonlight painted everything in shades of silver and grey, turning ordinary rocks and shells into shimmering treasures along the shoreline.

Then, she felt a presence right next to her on the shore, watching the waters dance under the moon. Y/n turned, startled, to see a figure cloaked in shadows, their presence imposing yet strangely comforting. As the figure stepped closer, the moonlight revealed a woman with piercing eyes and a knowing smile, displaying a set of iron teeth.

"I see you've found solace in the night, young one," the woman said, her voice a melodic whisper that carried an air of ancient wisdom.

Y/N hesitated, sensing something both familiar and unnerving about the woman's presence. "Who are you?" she asked cautiously, her curiosity tinged with apprehension.

"I am Elara," the woman replied, her voice carrying the soft lilt of someone who had seen ages pass. Her eyes, luminous in the moonlight, seemed to hold secrets of centuries past.

Y/N's curiosity piqued further. "Elara," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "Where are we, Elara?"

Elara turned her gaze towards the endless expanse of the sea, her expression thoughtful as moonlight played upon her features. "The tides of magic ebb and flow," she murmured, choosing to ignore y/n's question, her voice carrying a melody of secrets. "They bring me where the currents converge."

"You are drawn to magic, then?" Y/N ventured cautiously, choosing her words with care.

Elara's eyes sparkled with a knowing light, acknowledging the unspoken question. "Magic is a tapestry woven with many threads," she replied, her voice resonating with ancient wisdom. "Some threads are visible to those who seek them."

Y/N listened intently, sensing there was more to Elara's words than met the eye. "What are in my threads?" she asked softly, more to herself, than to the woman beside her.

Elara smiled gently, her expression serene yet filled with depth. "Your threads are intertwined with the fabric of worlds," she began cryptically, her voice carrying a melody of secrets. "You carry the essence of the Ironteeth within you—a lineage that spans beyond this realm."

Y/N blinked in surprise, her mind racing to grasp the implications of Elara's revelation. "Ironteeth?" she repeated, the word unfamiliar yet stirring something deep within her.

Elara nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Blue blood runs through your veins, child," she continued, her words carrying a weight of significance. "But it is not a curse—it is a gift, a mark of your lineage and the connection you hold between worlds."

Y/N felt a mix of confusion and wonderment. "I don't understand," she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

Elara placed a comforting hand on y/n's shoulder, her touch grounding and reassuring. "You are special, y/n," she murmured, her voice a gentle breeze that swept away the shadows of doubt. "Your path is woven with purpose, threads that bind you to destinies yet to unfold."

"You are wrong. My parents... I never knew who they were, but it is impossible. They couldn't have been witches," y/n interjected, her voice tinged with disbelief. She stared at Elara, struggling to reconcile the revelation with what little she knew of her own origins.

Elara regarded y/n with a patient understanding, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Not all magic is inherited through direct lineage," she explained gently, her words carrying a weight of ancient knowledge. "Love transcends worlds, y/n. It weaves its own threads through the tapestry of existence."

Y/N frowned, her mind racing as she tried to piece together Elara's cryptic words. "Are you saying... my parents were from different worlds?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Embrace your heritage," she advised gently. "Let the love that brought you being guide your steps, and trust in the magic that flows through your veins."

Y/n sighed and looked towards the waters once again "I don't understand...I don- What....no. Impossible."

"Find Manon. Let her know. And find me again when you are ready."

Y/n quickly turned around "What are you say-"

But her words were quickly cut off as she realized the woman had disappeared. The shore was empty now, save for the gentle lapping of waves against the rocks and the whisper of the wind through the night. 

She took a step forward, scanning the moonlit expanse for any sign of Elara, but there was no trace of the enigmatic woman who had appeared with cryptic wisdom and vanished just as mysteriously.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her mind racing with unanswered questions and the weight of Elara's revelations settling upon her shoulders. The realization that her journey was intricately tied to secrets beyond her comprehension left her both unsettled and strangely determined.

One second she was on that shore, the next she was back in the crystal caverns, on her knees before a mirror that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly glow. The transition was disorienting, leaving y/n momentarily breathless as she took in her surroundings.

The caverns around her were filled with the soft hum of magical energy, crystals of various sizes and colors pulsing with a gentle light. The mirror before her reflected not just her physical form, but seemed to hold a depth that hinted at secrets and possibilities beyond.

Y/n reached out tentatively, her fingers grazing the cool surface of the mirror. It was smooth and unyielding, yet she sensed an almost imperceptible vibration beneath her touch—a sensation that whispered of connections waiting to be discovered.

Her mind raced with questions, the memory of Elara's words echoing in her thoughts. Seems like this mirror created an illusion around her. Not like the Ouroboros back in Prythian then. But...how did it connect to the enigmatic woman who had appeared and vanished with cryptic wisdom?

So many questions. Not enough answers.

A witch? How is that possible. Her whole life she and everyone who was unlucky enough to witness her blue blood thought of it as a curse. A deformity.

How in the seven hells is she an Ironteeth Witch? Was her mother a witch?

She hid this secret so well. Not even Azriel, let alone anyone else found out about it. So why now?

Whatever. This was a complete waste of time. She would never let anyone in on her secret and Manon won't know anything.

With that final thought, she got up and left the caverns, promising to herself never to come back here again.

"Y/n?....Y/n!"

Y/n came back to reality, her senses snapping back into focus as the familiar voice called her name. Blinking rapidly, she shook off the remnants of the mirror's illusion and turned towards the source of the voice.

Manon was standing right next to her, still holding her palm up. In a sudden fit of anger, y/n snatched her hand away from the silver haired witch and turned around, making her way into the palace.

"How long have you known? Kept this secret?"

That made her pause. She slowly turned around to see Manon standing in front of Abraxos with arms crossed and an unreadable expression on her face.

Y/n replied coldly "My whole life. The blue blood part not the whole Ironteeth witch part. And I would suggest you keep this a secret as well because if you don't then I won't be responsible for what happens to you next."

Manon's eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, her voice laced with a taunting edge. "You are an Ironteeth Witch. You are one of my own," she declared, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Y/n also approached her "I am not one of you. I am not even from your world. You may be the Queen of Witches but you aren't my queen."

They stood chest to chest now, the air thick with tension as they locked eyes, each refusing to yield in their stance. Manon's expression was unreadable, a mask of regal composure overlying whatever emotions churned beneath. Y/n's jaw was set, her stance reflecting both defiance and a hint of vulnerability.

Manon tilted her head slightly, studying y/n with a calculating gaze. "You're different," she acknowledged quietly, her voice carrying a note of curiosity. "But that doesn't change the truth of what you are."

Y/n's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. "I don't owe you any explanations," she retorted, her voice firm. "My heritage is my own."

Manon's lips quirked in a semblance of a smile, though there was no warmth in it. "True," she conceded, her tone sharp and probing. "But secrets have a way of surfacing, especially when power is at stake."

Y/n bristled at the implication, her resolve hardening. "I won't be manipulated," she stated defiantly, her voice carrying an edge of warning.

"You are refusing your own destiny."

Y/n gave a firm look at the queen in front of her "This is not a destiny, it is a curse. My world never had any witches or Ironteeth whatever and frankly, I never knew anything about this until I ended up here."

Manon's gaze did not waver "You are a coward then."

She was in shock. Absolute shock. Does this witch think that just because she is a queen y/n would bow to her? Declare her undying loyalty to her? She had already done that once with Rhys and Feyre, safe to say, it did not end well.

Y/n snarled as she stood face to face with her "You have no idea of what I went through in my life. This blue blood nonsense made it even worse. Where were you or the other witches when I was being laughed at, avoided, tortured, insulted and beaten for it? That's right, fucking nowhere. This is a curse and I am not about to reveal it. I am not a coward for hiding something that brings only misery to me. Queen of Witches or not, you do not hold any sway over me so do me a favor and shut your mouth about this whole thing." With that, she turned around on her heels and took quick strides towards the palace.

But she still heard Manon's voice over the distance saying, "Come find me when you are not running away from your destiny."

Come find me. Come find me. Seems like both Elara and Manon enjoy pissing her off, thinking they know her better than herself.

She did not go to dinner. In fact, she had no idea where she was going, but she was going somewhere. Preferably, far away from everyone.

After who knows how many turns and dead ends, she found herself in front of another set of double doors at the end of the hall.

Without even thinking, she just entered only to be surprised when she saw Yrene, on the floor with papers, quills and books all around her, the main book being on her lap.

Y/n hesitated, not wanting to startle her, but Yrene looked up with a warm smile.

"Y/n! don't just stand there, come and sit." the healer said, pointing to a small lounge chair in the corner of the room.

She smirked while walking towards the chair "I thought you didn't want anyone disturbing you. Except your husband, of course."

Yrene slightly shook her head with a small smile "He just wouldn't listen to me when I said that he needs rest, that Aelin has servants coming and going to this room with meals and everything I may need. He is a stubborn brute! staying by my side constantly, helping me analyze and decipher. And now look at him...I finally managed to get him to rest. Though, I admit I had to use some help from Rowan."

Y/n giggled before a questioning look overtook her face, "I saw him limping earlier. But when you two first came, he walked just fine. What kind of an accident caused that condition, if I may ask?"

The healer's expression turned downcast as she began sorting through some of the papers on the ground. "Well...when Chaol and Nesryn--the future empress of the Southern Continent--came to Antica, he was in a wheelchair. Just...long story short the King of Adarlan had used his magic to break him."

At y/n's shocked expression, Yrene just gave a sad smile and continued, "Yes. I, as a healer of Torre Cesme, an academy that houses and trains gifted healers, was appointed to heal his legs."

She sighed as she looked towards the large windows behind y/n, her gaze unfocused, seemingly lost in her memories. "We hated each other at first due to our diferring beliefs on each other but, we eventually started being civil with one another. And the whole Valg thing just brought us closer. Which eventually resulted in him being able to walk again."

"Wait. What Valg thing?"

"Well, one of the Khagan's children, his pregnant daughter got infested with a valg that caused her to murder her younger sister and then try to murder me. It took us some time, but we eventually found out it was her and then when we fought her, she landed a hard blow on Chaol. He was going to die and with him, my soul would have died as well."

Y/n was just staring with wide eyes at the curly haired woman in front of her, urging her to continue "But, the other healers joined together and helped me heal him. Though there was a price for it and I payed it without thinking, without any regrets. Our lives were joined forever. He would walk, but if I used too much magic or exerted myself, he would need a cane or his wheelchair. Vise versa if he exerts too much energy, I will feel weak, nauseous and so on. Us being bonded in every sense also meant that once one of us dies first, the other also dies. We go at the same time."

Now this was something y/n had never heard of before. She knew how her High Lord and Lady also had joined their lives together. If there were any doubts about that actually being true, they were cleared when the whole fiasco during Nyxs' birth happened. But what y/n never heard of was how the actions of one would affect the other in such a bond.

She cleared her throat, still processing the information "That sounds romantic....in a way."

Yrene let out a small, lighthearted, laugh at that "Perhaps. I am glad to wake up everyday knowing that we survived it all and have a small family of our own now."

"You do?"

"Yes! Our son, Ares is only three, but he already is showing interest in weaponry. I try to keep them out of his way because it is so dangerous and Chaol is not the most organized person but...he somehow manages to find them. It is also not helping that his uncle Dorian keeps buying him wooden swords, bows, arrows and whatever else Ares wants. Such a spoiled kid."

She could see the fond smile on Yrene's face as she began once again, flipping through stacks of papers.

How does it feel to have a family of your own? A husband and kids...once upon a time y/n would've entertained that idea but no more.

"You miss your son."

The healer sighed "Of course, but atleast Dorian and the nannies are keeping him some company. And by some I mean a lot. Dorian refuses to let the kid breathe! He is too protective, acting like a mother hen at all times."

At that, they both looked at each other with amusement before letting out loud laughs that echoed throughout the room.

When their laughter died down, Yrene quietly asked y/n, "Well, I told you something about my life, now it is your turn to tell me something about your life in your world. How is that place?"

Y/n chuckled "Wait a minute. Why are we talking about me all of a sudden?"

Yrene just shrugged her shoulders with a small smile, still not looking at her "Well, I thought you could stop me from dozing off while trying to work out this book. So...please? Tell me something. Keep me company. I am quite curious, you know."

"Very well then. Hmmmm....my life back at home was very fun. Each day would be filled with different things to do. My High Lord, Rhysand, treated us, the inner circle as his family rather than his subjects. He became even better, less stressed, less frustrated when he met his mate and they later on had a son. I would spend my free days going to my favorite cafe's in Velaris, shopping with Mor, reading with Nesta, sometimes joining Feyre in her art studio, cooking with Elain, doing absolutely nothing with Amren-"

At that, she let out a small chuckle, remembering her tiny friend. "You know, you would fit right in the Dawn court. They have the best healers my world-Prythian-has to offer. And that whole place is absolutely beautiful and so peaceful. In fact, out of all the courts, I think I like Dawn the best."

Yrene looked up from the book at y/n with a curious glance "How many courts are there?"

"Six. Dawn which is the best, Day which is the most...unusual, Winter which is always cold, Spring which I hate because of its annoying, pain in the ass of a High Lord, Night from which I am from, and Autumn which is actually the worst."

"Oh wow. Your world seems so unique. I would love to explore all those courts."

"Yeah well, Dawn would probably be the best and only one you need to see because I don't think Chaol would be happy with you being in Day after seeing Helion and his...beyond appropriate comments and parties. Spring court is literally deserted, it's a long story so don't ask about it now, and would not recommend going there if you are allergic. Autumn court won't probably let you in because it has an egotistical, ancient hag for a high lord. Winter is nice but considering how you come from a warmer place, I don't think you will stay there for more than an hour. Night court is only nice when you are in Velaris and not in the Court of Nightmares."

Yrene once again had a questioning face and so it went on for another hour as they conversed about each other's lives and got to know one another more. Of course, they both still kept many things hidden from one another but y/n was glad they at least could share some of the happy memories.

When y/n left the healers room to go to her own, it was well near midnight but her veins thrummed with energy as she felt this strange feeling of content wash over her. Out of everyone here so far, she felt like Yrene was the one with whom she felt safest and most relaxed. It was good to talk to someone so freely after such a long time.

Fenrys stared at the papers in front of him. Being the Ambassador of Terrasen meant you got hundreds of official visits, check ups and whatever else to sign and read through. It was well beyond midnight but he couldn't sleep either so getting holed up in his study room is not something to complain about.

His mind also drifted of to a certain winged female who was starting to interest him more and more....unfortunately. For some reason, earlier today when she gave him a glimpse into her life it made him feel happy. Worthy of hearing something private. Of course his happiness was soon replaced with anger and another ugly feeling when he heard the name of that male...Azriel.

Was he handsome? Was he a good warrior? How old was he? He bet that he could destroy this Azriel in a matter of minutes if they ever came face to face.

Why was he even stuck on this? What y/n does with her private life shouldn't interest him. Although he can't deny the relief he felt when she told him they weren't mates. Honestly Fenrys, get yourself together.

But no matter what, he hates Azriel. Especially after y/n explained some of the things he did. What a spineless coward, that one. And once he saw her holding back tears, on the verge of a breakdown, there was nothing else at that moment that Fenrys wanted more than to crush Azriel's skull with his bare hands.

He waited for her at dinner but she didn't come. When Manon entered the room, her expression was indifferent as usual but her movements were somewhat stiffer. And when he asked her about y/n, she just gave him a short, cold reply "I don't know."

Something was wrong. He could feel it. But, Fenrys also valued his life enough to know not to provoke the witch beside him. He would just have to ask y/n tomorrow.

A knock on the door brought him back from his thoughts as Fenrys muttered a quiet yet audible "Enter."

Lorcan entered with a small smirk, going straight to the brown leather couch in the left side of the room, "I knew you would be awake."

Fenrys rubbed his face with his hand "And why are you awake? Shouldn't you be with your wife?"

The taller man just stared at the ceiling and yawned "Couldn't sleep. Knew that you barely sleep these days so decided to come keep you company."

Fenrys sighed but got up and went towards the shelf containing various forms of drinks. He took a good old aged whisky and poured it into two glasses before going towards Lorcan.

As he got gloser, Fenrys physically gagged "You smell of sex. Couldn't even bother washing up before coming here and sitting your ass down on my couch?"

Lorcan simply smirked, taking the glass from the males hand "Too tired for that. Don't be mad at me just because you are not having any fun these days."

Fenrys took a sip from his whiskey and placed the glass on the table before sitting back down on his chair "Poor Elide. Don't know how she manages with you, your stupidity, ego, clinginess and high libido."

He heard the brown haired man chuckle "Can you blame me? I miss my wife. This whole drama has made us so busy that I use every chance we get alone. It certainly hasn't gotten better becuse of her."

At Fenrys' questioning look, Lorcan said, "Y/n. We didn't even have any problems until she appeared here and now all of a sudden we have gates reopening and Valgs somehow reappearing. I am telling you, that little snake has something up her sleeve. She is up to no good."

Now, this got his attention and Lorcan clearly did not see the irritation slowly appearing over Fenrys' face because he continued, "She's a stranger, appearing out of nowhere just when trouble starts brewing again. It's too convenient. And everyone is slowly warming up to her. Even Elide! Though, can't say I blame her, my sweetheart has always only seen the good in everyone but I know for a fact that little brat is the total opposite of innocent."

Fenrys clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he listened to Lorcan's words. The accusation against Y/n, whom Fenrys had started to slowly trust, struck a nerve. He fought to keep his voice steady as he interrupted, "Watch your tongue, Lorcan. She is just as desperate to go back to her world. Y/n has done nothing but help us so far when she could have already landed whatever her blow was if she were to be an enemy."

Lorcan scoffed and stared at the glass in his hands, "Honestly, I thought you and I were on the same page about this. Seems like her bullshit act has also won you over. Not to worry though, I gave her a good little pep talk to make sure that she knows she is never safe for as long as she is here."

Fenrys' blood ran cold. No. It couldn't be. Was Lorcan the one who threatened and caused her those marks? Fenrys felt the wolf within him slowly stir awake as he got up, eyes never leaving Lorcan, and steadily made his way over to him "What kind of a pep talk did you give to her?"

Lorcan just layed back on the couch, still not threatened by his companion as he just smirked "Pinned her to the wall by her neck. You should've seen her face Fenrys it was hilarious how she was struggling to breathe! It felt so good to finally bring down her walls and see her for the scared little girl she was. Showed her how she can talk and act brave but-"

Lorcan did not get the chance to finish before Fenrys grabbed him by the neck and forcefully pushed him towards the shelf behind the couch, causing it to fall with a loud bang and the books to scatter all over the floor.

Lorcan was surprised, but his shock soon turned to anger as he narrowed his eyes at Fenrys and got up "What-"

But Fenrys shut him up with a hard punch to the face and another one to the stomach. Not giving him the time to recover, he grabbed Lorcan by the collar of his shirt and pinned him to the wall with a harsh hit, causing the man to roughly hit his head against it, before using his hand to choke him.

He did not see. He did not feel. All he thought was that this bastard in front of him was one of the causes for y/n's discomfort. Never in his life had he felt this level of extreme violence. Of extreme need to kill.

Fenrys bared his teeth, displaying his sharp fangs as he growled, "I am going to kill you."

Lorcan couldn't even reply properly because of how forcefully he was being choked. His wide pleading eyes did nothing to ooze Fenrys' anger as he harshly threw the man before him to the table, causing it to break. A mahogany, durable, table just broke down because of the force with which he threw a man as big as Lorcan onto it.

Lorcan got up to his feet while still coughing and clutching his stomach and turned to look at Fenrys "What in the name of Wyrd is fucking wrong with you? I don't want to fight you."

Fenrys did not reply. Within the blink of an eye, he had the brown haired man on the ground, below him as he began throwing punch after punch, blow after blow onto his face.

His vision became red. At that moment, all he cared about was y/n and her safety. He wasn't going to show any mercy. He was going to kill him-

"STOP!"

"Gods, what in the seven hells-"

"Rowan do something!"

The next thing Fenrys knew, he was being dragged away from Lorcan. Someone was holding him to their chest. Restraining him. Stopping him from killing.

"Let me go."

"No."

"Fucking let me go!"

"Come back to your fucking senses Fenrys!"

It was as if someone dumped ice cold water all over him. The world around him started coming back into focus as Fenrys realized what was going on. Rowan was holding him back while Elide and Aelin were trying to get Lorcan on his feet.

He pushed himself away from Rowan and came closer but Aelin got between them as she glared at him "Fenrys what in the everloving fuck have you done? Look at the state of the room! Look at Lorcan!"

And indeed, the room was a complete and utter mess. Books, papers files, glasses and other objects were covering the floor. Broken or crumpled. His worktable was broken into two and the shelf was lying flat on the ground. The couch was on the verge of tearing apart. Not to mention, there were specks of Lorcans blood all over the floor.

But he did not care. He did not feel a single ounce of shame or remorse. Lorcan had it coming. He had to be put in his place. And so, he gently pushed Aelin and then Elide away, coming face to face with the male whom he considered as his close companion for so many centuries.

"If I ever find out that you have threatened, insulted, hurt, come any closer or even touched y/n again, trust me Lorcan my face will be the last thing you see before you end up in a grave. Besides, you're human now so it would be twice as easy for me to kill you."

He heard Elide gasp and Rowan sigh deeply while Aelin asked "For Wyrd's sake, what happened? What are you talking about?!"

But for the first time since taking the blood oath for Aelin, Fenrys ignored his queen and her demands as he strode past everyone towards the door "You might want to call Isolde. He doesn't look like he is in a good shape."

He did not look back as he left the room and headed towards his bedchamber.

By the time the early signs of sunrise hit, y/n was once again awake and already going through her fifth imaginary fight against the enemy in the training ring. It had been some time since she last used a sword and if she didn't practice with it more, she would be weaker in this field. Now that was something she couldn't and wouldn't allow so, here she was, using one of the swords to fling, hit and fight.

Cassian once told her how mastery over fighting with a sword was a form of art. In fact, all fighting forms were some sort of art and the one holding the weapon was the artist. She had to use the sword not as a weapon, but as an extension of herself. Smooth, swift and precise.

She was so focused on herself that she failed to notice the slight movement behind her. Y/n immediately turned around, ready to strike whoever the unluky bastard was when she realized that it in fact was not a someone but a something. Just there, in the near distance, Manon's wyvern, Abraxos was lying on the grassy ground, carefully and silently observing her.

Y/n's hand hovered near her weapon, tension coiled in her muscles as she assessed the wyvern's presence. Abraxos regarded her with intelligent eyes, his scales shimmering in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.

"What are you doing here, big guy?" she muttered, more to herself than to the creature. Despite his fearsome appearance, there was a curious gentleness in his demeanor as he lay there, observing her with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Slowly, Y/n eased her stance, recognizing there was no immediate threat from the wyvern. She slowly came over to him before crouching down, meeting Abraxos' gaze levelly. "Are you keeping watch for Manon?" she ventured, testing the waters with the formidable creature.

Abraxos rumbled softly, a sound that was more akin to a contented purr than a growl. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position on the grass but never breaking eye contact with Y/n.

"I suppose you're here to make sure I don't cause trouble," Y/n mused, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. She had never imagined having a conversation, silent though it may be, with a wyvern. Yet here she was, engaging in an unexpected moment of understanding with Manon's loyal companion.

Y/n watched Abraxos for a moment longer, intrigued by the wyvern's calm demeanor. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly extended her hand towards him, palm up, a universal gesture of trust and invitation.

Abraxos regarded her hand for a moment, then tilted his head slightly, as if considering her offer. With a graceful movement, he stood up from the grassy ground and approached Y/n cautiously. She held her breath as his massive head drew closer, feeling the warmth of his breath and the soft touch of his snout against her hand.

Y/n took a glance at his wings and....they did truly look like hers just bigger and a little different.

"Alright, big guy," Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. "Let's see what you've got."

Abraxos slightly tilted his head, as if understanding and questioning her. "Let's have a little morning exercise for our wings shall we? I haven't yet flown today and I am guessing you haven't either so, wanna do it together?"

At that, he stood as if readying himself for flight, his gaze never leaving hers. Smart creature.

Y/n smirked and flapped her wings gently first, "Let's see if you can catch me." and then, she shot upwards, Abraxos following in her lead as the two flew as high as possible, reaching the soft clouds.

The view from up here was beyond heavenly. The golden and warm hues coming from the sunrise cast a soft glow over the clouds and the skies, covering them in all the comforting hues of a morning light. Y/n felt a surge of exhilaration as the first rays of sunlight kissed her skin, enveloping them both in the serene beauty of the morning light.

As they soared higher, Y/n sensed Abraxos's presence beside her. The wyvern matched her pace with ease, his wings beating rhythmically as they navigated the skies together. Y/n glanced sideways, meeting Abraxos's intelligent eyes that sparkled with a mix of curiosity and companionship.

"You're fast," y/n called out over the wind, a wide grin spreading across her face. Despite the initial challenge, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unity with the majestic creature flying beside her. The bond forged in flight transcended words, a silent understanding between two beings sharing the boundless freedom of the open sky.

As they continued their flight, she marveled at the world unfolding beneath them. The patchwork of fields and forests stretched out in a tapestry of greens and browns, rivers winding like ribbons through the landscape. It was a view that only the sky could offer, a perspective that humbled and inspired in equal measure.

With each graceful arc and swoop, y/n and Abraxos danced through the sky, weaving a story of trust and exhilaration. In that moment, amidst the quiet majesty of the morning light, Y/n knew she had found a kindred spirit in the wyvern who soared beside her, sharing in the simple joy of flight under the gentle embrace of the sunrise.

After a while, they both gently landed on a wide and tall hill. Y/n was still smiling, adrenaline still buzzing in her veins when she turned around to see Manon approaching. That instantly made her smile drop.

The witch reached them and cast a look at Abraxos, who was feeding on the plants, "I thought only I got to fly with you in the mornings."

The wyvern gave a small rumble, more focused on eating the flowers beneath him. Manon rolled her eyes with a small smile as she gently caressed the beast.

When y/n turned to leave, she heard the queen say "When are you going to tell them?"

"I think I made it perfectly clear last night when I said 'never'." y/n replied, her voice tinged with frustration.

Manon stopped carresing Abraxos, leaving his side to come closer to y/n as she said, "So that's it then? You will keep running away from the inevitable? From the undeniable fact that you are an Ironteeth Witch? And if the Book of Breathings chose you, it seems like you have a connection, a power you have no idea about."

She scoffed "Easy for you to say. You didn't have to grow up in a world where witches, where your own kind did not exist. A world where you were an orphan who never knew her parents. A world where you were seen as a curse, a liability. You have no right to demand such things of me."

A shadow passed over her face before Manon came closer, her eyes gleaming with challenge "I don't? Last I checked, I am your queen. I may not know what that world of yours made you go through, made you believe in, but I can assure you that in this world, one of our kind is never left out. And believe me witch, I know far more about sacrifice and survival than you ever will."

Y/n let out a disbelieving huff "Do not call me a witch ever again Manon. You are neither my queen nor my leader. I am done with this conversation for once and for all."

As y/n turned to leave, she heard the witch say "Two days. I give you two days to tell them. If after two days you still haven't told anything, I will say it myself."

She whipped her head back around "What gives you the right?! Just because you are the queen-"

Manon turned around and began walking towards her wyvern "Perhaps you should also think about on the fact that maybe that world--Prythian--isn't your true home. Stop running away."

Y/n couldn't get the chance to say anything before the witch mounted her wyvern, muttered a "Ready for a second round?" and flew off into the skies.

Y/n found herself in an unfamiliar room. Aelin had gathered everyone in a sitting room to address the pressing issue at hand. Even Yrene was here. Servants had brought breakfast, which they enjoyed before being discreetly dismissed with instructions not to disturb them further. What y/n noticed was that both Lorcan and Elide were missing. And so was Fenrys. She tried not to think about him, not to worry but...why isn't he here? Did something happen?

Don't be silly y/n, he has a job to do. Maybe he is just busy. Yes. He is busy.

But that thought didn't make her uncertainty go away.

A luxurious area rug with an elaborate pattern in shades of brown and green covered the polished wooden floor, adding both comfort and regal elegance to the room. Near a tall window draped in heavy silk curtains in shades of green and gold, there is a plush armchair upholstered in gray velvet. A magnificent wooden coffee table, intricately carved and polished to a high sheen, stands at the center of the room. The walls are adorned with rich, textured gray wallpaper, subtly embellished with a delicate pattern that catches the light just so. Against one wall, a grand sofa upholstered in sumptuous brown velvet commands attention, its cushions exquisitely embroidered with threads of gold and green.

Rowan, standing in the center of the room, cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "We've confirmed that the Valgs are returning because the gates between worlds are weakening,"  he looked at Manon "I need you to order your witches to start searching for these Valgs. My guess is that there is only few of them which is why they haven't yet revealed themselves in full force."

"That is an advantage for us. Considering that we can wipe them out before they are even ready." Aedion interfered, while chewing on an apple from his place on the couch.

Rowan nodded "Yes. Which is why we need to keep the element of surprise on our side. Manon, make sure that the witches are careful and discreet."

The silver haired woman gave a slight nod while getting up and going towards the door. "Don't tell me how to manage my witches, bird. I will send word to Petrah."

Rowan rolled his eyes at her nickname for him but continued, "Next. If the Valgs are to attack us before we can find them, we need to be prepared. I will put a barrier, a ward of sorts, all around Terrasen, not to mention, I will make sure that the sages from the sanctuary use their ancient magic to create an extra barrier-"

"But what if the Valg are already inside our territory?" The question came from Lysandra who was picking at the cherries on top of the cake.

"And what if those monks are still cranky old bastards?" Aedion asked at the same time, earning a glare from his cousin.

Rowan chose to ignore his silly question but considered Lysandra's question carefully before responding. "If they're already here, our priority remains to contain and eliminate them swiftly," he said firmly, his gaze sweeping across the room. "The barrier I propose will not only protect Terrasen but also act as a detection mechanism. It will alert us to any breaches, giving us a chance to respond before they can cause significant damage. Which is why, it is essential we get the sages to cooperate."

Y/n asked from her place near the window, "What about the Book of Breathings? Didn't Aelin say it contained a text on how to defeat the Valgs once and for all?"

Aelin, seemingly in thought, replied "We still have no idea about that part of the issue."

Rowan looked straight at y/n "The seers' said that you are the one who can somehow close the gates. Any guesses?"

Tell them. Tell them you are a witch. Don't run away.

No. She wasn't a witch. She wouldn't accept this. She has a curse not a gift.

But maybe....

Y/n furrowed her brow, thinking deeply. "Closing the gates... It must involve understanding their nature," she began, pacing slightly as ideas formed in her mind. "If the gates are weakening because of a disruption in their magical alignment, then restoring that alignment could be the key."

Rowan nodded thoughtfully. "So, we need to find a way to correct the magical energies that govern the gates," he summarized, his eyes brightening with a hint of optimism.

Aedion raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly will we do that?"

Aelin sighed "Yrene, how is your deciphering going?"

The healer, who was sitting on the sofa with her husbands arms tight around her, replied "I managed to completely identify the characters and patterns. All that is left is to join them and understand the overall context. This analysis could take me another day or two."

This earned her a kiss on the head from Chaol and a proud smile from everyone, including y/n.

Aelin got up from her chair and went towards her mate "Very well done Yrene. I think for now, this is all we can do. Hopefully, we will find a way to get the Book of Breathings, somehow find a way for y/n to close the gates and go back to her world."

Lysandra, who was gently caressing her husbands injured arm, said "I just want the Valgs to be completely wiped out this time."

Aedion looked at her with all the care and love in the world "We will."

Well, seems like those two made up.

Eva came running into the room, making all the eyes turn to her as she jumped up and down, excitedly "Dorian is coming! Dorian is coming!"

Chaol was immediately on his feet as he took the letter from the younger girl's hands and read it before looking at Aelin with a smile so bright, y/n thought it could compete with the sun itself "He is on his way. He is coming."

The queen and her mate smiled as Lysandra laughed while putting her head on Aedions uninjured shoulder "Missed your brother, Chaol?"

Yrene just snickered from her place on the sofa "Can't wait to see Manon's reaction."

Once everyone started leaving the room, each going to do their tasks regarding the issue, y/n hesitantly approached Aelin in the hallway.

This is so embarrassing. Why is she worried about him? Fenrys is none of her concern-

"Aelin?"

Her mouth moved before she could even rethink her decision.

The queen turned around and came closer towards her with a questioning look.

"This....this may sound um....unusual I-I don't even know why I am asking but....I guess I am worried um....where- where is Fenrys?"

She gave her a slight smile before taking her arm and pushing her into one of the rooms closest to them. Once she closed the door, Aelin turned towards y/n as she said "Fenrys, he....he had a disagreement with Lorcan last night. I- look, I was thinking of saying this later when I forced Lorcan to apologize to you but I guess I have to do it now. I am so sorry and ashamed that a member of my own court treated you that way, I mean, choking? Are you serious? And I was wondering why would you wear turtlenecks during this season. Elide is also very ashamed on his behalf, Rowan and the others are pissed at him but....he is also blood sworn to me and very dear to Elide so it's not like I can just kill him. Anyhow, Lorcan has always been.....complicated. But I know that is no reason for him to do what he did which is why I will make sure he apologizes- no, begs for your forgiveness once he is in a proper condition again."

They know. Mother above....how? She thought she did a good job at hiding it but...

"How did you find out? Does Fenrys know?"

"Sweetheart, Fenrys was the one that put Lorcan in that horrific condition in the first place. I never saw him that mad. Rowan even said that over the hundreds of years that he has known Fenrys, he had never seen him that violent. Especially towards someone as feared as Lorcan. Not even when Maeve sent him to kill Lorcan was he this enraged."

"What?! How did he know?!"

"Lorcan himself told him apparently. I don't know the full thing because Fenrys just locked himself up in his room and ignored all of us. Wait-"

But y/n had heard enough. She was already storming out of the room, heading towards his bedchamber. How stupid can he be? She told him to not interfere!

When she was in front of his room, she knocked on the door once, not receiving an answer.

"Fenrys. Let me in."

No reply.

"Fenrys!"

Still, nothing.

"Fenrys, I swear if you don't open this door in the next five seconds, I will break it down myself!"

He was clearly ignoring her now.

"Fenrys! Why-"

The door slammed open and there he was, standing right in front of her, in a simple white tunic and black pants, hair completely dishelved from running his hands through it and speaking of....his hands were completely bruised. She should not feel this aroused just from looking at him. Stop it. He was in a fight and all you can think about is how attractive he is?

She sighed and pushed past him into the room.

"What-"

"Sit down on the bed."

"Y/n, I do not have the energy to play your silly game-"

"Does it look like I am playing games? Believe me, I am quite pissed at the stunt you pulled but you also need tending to those wounds. Sit your ass on the bed and we will talk while I tend to you."

"I don't need a nanny-"

"Fenrys."

Her voice left no room for disagreement as he sighed and sat down on the bed while y/n went to fetch a healing kit from the bathroom.

She came back a minute later with the supplies she needed and put them down next to him on the bed. She took his left hand first, inspecting the bruises and cuts on his knuckles gently, before beginning her work.

Fenrys watched carefully as y/n applied the products onto his hand. She was so concentrated that she didn't even notice his gaze burning into her skull. Her calming and delicious scent enveloped him, making him feel relaxed. No one had ever cared for him in this way before. No one.

It was always just him and himself who tended to his own wounds. Maeve never cared enough to send her healers to aid him after the things she would put him through. In battles or wars, he always put others before himself, insisting on their treatment first. He doesn't even remember his mothers face so its not like he had any caretaker anyway.

But y/n...the way she gently applied the medicine so that it wouldn't hurt him, the way she softly caressed his hand....he didn't know if she was aware of it or not but he couldn't bring himself to care. Not while he felt this calm in her presence.

That calmness, however, was shattered when she asked "Why did you do it?"

He scoffed slightly, "If you thought that I would just let it go then you were wrong."

Y/n, still not looking at him but at his hands, replied, "Clearly. I told you that I would deal with him on my own, didn't I? You had no right."

There she goes again with her agressive bullshit. She has no idea how it felt for him last night. How he was ready to tear Lorcan into pieces for touching her, for insulting her. And here she is talking about him having no right?

He moved his hand away from her, causing her to look at him with those hypnotizing eyes that make him want to commit every sin possible in the world just to-

"Stop acting like a baby. Why did you do it? I mean, we owe each other absolutely nothing and it's not like you care anyway."

"Do I need to care to beat him up for hurting you?"

"Umm, Yes? Why in the seven hells-"

"You are right. I don't care about you and neither should you so just leave."

Why did it physically hurt him to even say this sentence? A quick flash of hurt passed over her features and Fenrys wanted to peel his skin off for being the cause of it.

Her features hardened before she pulled his hand back towards her and said "You are a big, annoying, egotistic brute. I hope you know that. Consider this a thank you for doing....that."

Fenrys couldn't help the smile forming on his face "Did you just thank me? I think I am going mad."

She chuckled slightly before rolling her eyes "This is the only time you will hear it from me so don't get too optimistic."

Y/n didn't know why seeing him smile made her feel so happy. Whatever it was, she had to stop it before it got too far. But, as she patched up his hands, she just didn't want to stop. Didn't want to let go. And when she looked up to see him already looking at her with those depthless, onyx eyes that softened when they made contact with hers, she didn't want to stop anything.

But the sweet moment was cut short as the air suddenly crackled with energy. A burst of bluish-white light spread around the room and before she could even process what was happening, Fenrys threw her behind him as he drew his sword from under his mattress and got into an attackers stance.

Y/n got on her tip toes to look over his shoulders and what, or rather who she saw made her gasp in shock.

There, in the middle of the room, in the middle of what appeared to be some kind of a magical circle, her ghost like figure casted an otherworld glow all around her.

Y/n immediately stepped aside and slowly came closer, not believing her eyes.

"Amren..."

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[llort]

Encoded within beams of pure energy, Astra and Orion’s consciousness became architects of new realities. On barren planets, their probes wove the fabric of life, constructing complex neural networks, though perhaps missing the elusive spark of full awareness. In their terrestrial guise, Astra and Orion were the unseen sculptors of destiny, their influence rippling through the lives of Kepler’s inhabitants, guiding their evolution while remaining hidden from cybernetic self-discovery. Between 2016 and 2025, a silent memetic tide, crafted by these visionaries, swept Earth, altering the course of history, touching the minds of those destined to shape the future. This clandestine meme, a dance of ideas and sensations, orchestrated a global movement without uttering a single word, converging on the enigmatic X protocol. As nations’ guardians became entangled in this silent symphony, they unknowingly propelled the grand design, believing themselves to be the vanguard of a new era of cybernetic pioneers.

Work Text:

Cyberphysical Reality just Got a Whole More Engaging

The Unsignificant Sentience ARG has officially begun. It will explore a vast variety of themes, from the would building and exisistial crisis of the US series to more recursive identity metaphors than you can shake an edge at. Firstly, to play. All you need is your influencer name and type of influence which you can decide, but once chosen, is permanent. Affectors: Sense resistance in external matrices and can give them a nudge to have a physical effect. Effectors: Can sense the internal matrices of entities and modify communication in systems and individuals Alters: Are able to clearly see the network of forces in a matrix that an affected affects, but only in close contact. However they can modify the nodes that affected affect to result in different emergent properties Anchorite: Essentially has the influence of an alter and an effector but are only able to change their own internal matrix. How you choose to engage with the ARG is up to you, but I am making it clear that any fan fiction are via the nature of my world building, Canon.

Example: Fill out your characters name, type of influence, and a brief description of them then post it to my blog on Tumblr @ https://www.tumblr.com/blog/emilyreadswrites and let me do my magic! Name: Zara Type of influence: Anchorite Description: Zara is a secular recluse who has devoted her life to mastering her own matrix and achieving higher states of consciousness. She lives in a small cell attached to a temple, where she practices meditation, athletics, and contemplation. She has a remarkable control over her own body, physical feats, endurance, and reduced need for sustenance. She can also perceive the subtle influences of other hosts and cognitive technology in her environment as She rarely interacts with anyone or the entropic grid so can detect slight deviations in phenomenal internal and external experience.

Example narrative: Zara closed her eyes and focused on her inner matrix, sitting peacefully in her personal sanctum, the network of nodes that connected her to the cognitive technology that enabled her to practice her influence. She breathed deeply and felt a surge of energy coursing through her body, as if she was tapping into a hidden source of power. She visualized each node as a bright point of light, and aligned them with her will and intention. She was an anchorite, a master of her own matrix, and she could control her physical feats, endurance, and mental state. She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky. It was dark and sunless, as it had been for as long as she could remember. But there was a faint glow on the horizon, a sign of something stirring in the upper atmosphere. She knew it was an aurora, a natural light display that shimmered in the sky with different colors. She had read about them in ancient texts, how they were caused by charged particles from the sun colliding with gas atoms in the air. She was looking forward it would be like to see them up close, to feel their warmth and radiance. She felt a pang of curiosity and longing, a rare emotion for someone who had devoted her life to solitude and meditation. She realized that she needed more than just her inner matrix to satisfy her thirst for knowledge and experience. She needed to explore the world beyond her cell, to discover its secrets and mysteries. She needed to find out what else was possible with her influence. Zara stilled her internal matrix and focused on the immediate environment, she might experience a shift in her perception and awareness. She become more sensitive to the physical sensations and details around her, such as the cold air, the sound of the wind, and the smell of the earth. She might also notice the aurora more vividly, as she would not be distracted by the cognitive technology that enables magic. She might see the different colors and shapes of the aurora, and feel a sense of wonder and awe at the natural phenomenon. She felt a connection to something bigger than herself, something that transcends her understanding of emergent internal and external existence. In light of this existential experience, she decided to simply take a walk.

[liora-vespera]

Diary of Deceit - Taehyung Oneshot

Genre :

Dark romance

Warning :

Manipulation, Dominance, Forced Marriage

-------------------------------------------------------

The Kim mansion was an imposing structure, standing tall amidst acres of land, its grandeur never quite hiding the unsettling quiet that lingered in the air. Hyunjae, now 21, had grown up within these walls, but it had never truly felt like home. He was used to the wealth and the luxury, but the mansion always seemed like it was hiding something—something dark, something buried beneath the surface.

His parents, Taehyung and Y/N, were the picture of perfect love. But there was always an odd distance between them. Despite their outward happiness, Hyunjae couldn't shake the feeling that there were secrets he was never meant to know.

On that stormy evening, as the wind howled outside, Hyunjae, intent on finishing a university paper, found himself in the library of the mansion. The large, open space was his favorite sanctuary—dusty shelves full of ancient books, the faint smell of aged paper, and the quiet solitude of it all. But tonight, it felt different.

While searching for a specific book, Hyunjae’s eyes landed on one shelf. He had passed it countless times but never paid it any attention. Tonight, however, something about it drew him in. One of the shelves was slightly askew. His curiosity piqued, Hyunjae reached out to adjust it—and the unexpected happened.

With a faint click and a groan, the shelf moved, revealing a hidden passage behind it. A shiver ran down his spine, his breath catching in his throat.

“What in the world?” Hyunjae muttered, his heart pounding as he stepped inside the narrow, dimly lit passage.

The passage led down a long, winding staircase that seemed ancient, its steps creaking underfoot. At the bottom, there was a door—old, worn, and slightly ajar. Hyunjae could feel his pulse quicken as he approached, unsure of what he would find.

He pushed the door open, revealing a small, secret room.

---

The room was cold and musty, its walls lined with shelves filled with personal belongings—books, photographs, old trinkets. The place was far from what one might expect from the rest of the mansion, which was always pristine and meticulously maintained. But this room felt different—secretive, intimate, as if it had been untouched for years.

His eyes swept across the room, finally landing on the center of it all—a large wooden table. Upon it, neatly placed in the center, was a leather-bound diary. The sight of it sent a strange chill through Hyunjae as he stepped closer, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

The diary was familiar. He’d seen it before—his father’s handwriting. He picked it up hesitantly, the weight of the leather book pressing in his hands. With a deep breath, he opened it, unsure of what he was about to uncover.

The first page was filled with his father's familiar scrawl.

---

“It was the village that drew me in. She was unlike anyone I’d ever met. Y/N—fragile, innocent, untouched by the world I came from. I had to have her.”

---

Hyunjae’s fingers tightened around the diary as his eyes skimmed the words. His heart raced as he continued reading.

---

“She was helping an elderly woman when I first saw her. It was a sight I’ll never forget—the way the light danced around her like something from a dream. She had this softness about her that I couldn’t resist. I knew she was different from the others, and that’s why I became obsessed.”

---

The more Hyunjae read, the more his heart sank. His father’s obsession with his Y/N, the woman who would become his mother, had been far darker than he had ever imagined. Taehyung’s attraction to her wasn’t based on love or even desire—it was a need to possess something pure, something untouched.

Taehyung had been a man of power and wealth, accustomed to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it. But when he saw Y/N, he was confronted with a kind of innocence he had never encountered before. She was different from all the women he had been with—naive, kind, unaware of the games he played.

---

“I had to make her mine. I couldn’t let her slip away. I used my power, my money, my influence. I made it impossible for her to say no.”

---

Taehyung’s manipulation had begun slowly, subtly. He had approached Y/N’s grandparents with a marriage proposal, but they had rejected him outright, not trusting the man who seemed too polished, too perfect to be real. Her grandfather had seen through Taehyung’s facade and had refused to let his granddaughter marry someone like him. But Taehyung was not the type to be refused.

He made their lives difficult—business deals were canceled, supplies were withheld, and slowly, the village began to struggle. The pressure mounted, and Y/N’s grandparents, desperate for her to be taken care of, eventually caved to Taehyung’s demands.

Y/N’s grandmother, fearing for Y/N’s future, finally agreed to the marriage. She had no other choice, but she made one last request.

---

“Take care of her, Taehyung. She’s all I have left.”

---

Hyunjae felt the room spin as he read the words. His mother had been forced into an arranged marriage—a marriage that, from the outside, seemed like a fairytale. But the truth was far darker. His father had used his wealth and power to bend Y/N to his will, trapping her in a life that wasn’t her choice.

---

Y/N had no idea what she was walking into. She was young, innocent, and unaware of the manipulation that had taken place behind the scenes. She had grown up with nothing but the love of her grandparents and a small sense of freedom in the village. To her, the marriage was simply a way to survive—to have someone to care for her after the loss of her family.

Her grandmother had made her promise to obey, to respect her husband, but Y/N had no understanding of the depths of Taehyung’s obsession. She had entered the marriage with no expectations other than to be a dutiful wife.

Taehyung, for his part, had convinced himself that he loved her. In his twisted way, he truly believed that he loved Y/N. But love, in his eyes, had always been a form of possession. He controlled every part of her life—how she dressed, what she did, even who she saw. He kept her isolated, and she had no idea just how much of her life had been orchestrated by him.

Years passed, and Y/N gave birth to four children, her life becoming a blur of motherhood and obedience. She had never questioned her role, never challenged her husband’s authority. To her, this was love—quiet, patient, and unwavering.

Taehyung’s obsession only grew, though he never voiced it. His control was subtle, like a web tightening around her, and she couldn’t see the trap she had walked into.

---

Hyunjae closed the diary, his heart heavy with the weight of the truth. His father’s confession had opened a door he never wanted to walk through. He had always admired Taehyung, but now, the man he had known as a hero seemed like a villain—a man who had manipulated his mother into a life of servitude and silence.

The reality of his mother’s life hit Hyunjae with full force. His mother—kind, loving, and always so gentle—had been trapped in a web of control, never fully aware of the way his dad had bent her life to his will.

Hyunjae stared at the diary for a long moment, conflicted. He had always seen his parents as a perfect couple, as role models. But now, he saw the truth. His father, despite his love for his mother, had used her innocence for his own gain.

When he left the secret room, he locked the door behind him. He didn’t want to confront his father, not yet. For now, he wanted to keep the peace—he couldn’t shatter the fragile world his mother had built for herself.

As he walked back into the main part of the house, he found his mom sitting on the living room floor, his dad l resting his head on her lap, surrounded by their children. The scene before him was one of contentment, of a family that seemed happy and whole.

Hyunjae couldn’t bring himself to destroy this image. He quietly kissed his mother’s cheek, whispering, “I love you, Mom.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes full of warmth. “I love you too, Hyunjae.”

As he walked away, he made a promise to himself. He would protect his mother’s happiness, no matter what the cost. Some secrets were better left buried.

[writingamongther0ses]

Hell to Pay

Summary: Chiron spills some tea about Zeus, someone's spilled tea on R.K.'s rug, and Mercury spills tea about the situation. None of this helps Megara.

Inspired by @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt of "Spill the Tea"

-_-

A young student trotted up, her cheeks flushed with a wide smile. She had to have been no older than six. "Chiron?"

"Yes, Amelia?"

"Daddy's here."

A look swept over Chiron's face- confusion, relief, and then dread. “Where, my dear?”

“He’s in R.K.’s office. He said he wanted to talk to him,” She pointed at Megara, who suddenly felt very small. There was no needed explanation to who “him” was. A god was here, despite Olympus having suddenly shut down. And he wanted to talk to him.

“I see. Thank you, Amelia.” The little girl walked away, still smiling happily. Chiron straightened with a hum. “That is unusual. Hermes is the last person I suspect Zeus would allow to come here.” He started to walk away, leaving Megara to scramble to catch up. “Still, he must’ve heard something…”

“Why wouldn’t Hermes have been allowed?” Megara had to ask, despite the feeling of having said the wrong name. “Isn’t he the messenger of the gods?”

Chiron nodded. “He is, but Zeus feels like Hermes has taken too much interest in this case.” He sighed as they reached the elevator, pressing the up button. The elevator opened silently, allowing Chiron to step inside with Megara trailing behind. He pressed the fifth level. “Let me tell you something about your father, boy. He does not understand love. He understands lust, but that is his own lust. He does not understand why the gods love mortals.”

Megara fought back a face. On one hand, he probably should’ve been defending Zeus. After all, he was his father. On the other hand, he didn’t know Zeus. Maybe that was for the best.

The door opened, revealing a hallway. Unlike the other levels, this had no windows. Torches lit the way, revealing beautiful tapestries that led down to a grand set of double doors. A small plaque revealed that this was the Hall of Graduates. “Her office is on the right, the door next to the headmaster’s office,” Chiron said as Megara stepped off.

He nodded and began to walk.

The tapestries were elaborate, each showing the student in some pose, dressed in ancient Greek dress, surrounded with what had to be symbols of their achievements. One tapestry was of a woman, presenting a DNA strand. Another was someone who had to be Elvis, singing into a microphone with the iconic hair. Another was another woman, looking up at an old-fashioned airplane, next to another woman holding up a set of scales.

The one right next to the last door to the right depicted a familiar face. Megara found himself coming to a stop, studying it. The tapestry had caught R.K.- who else had blue eyes like that- standing on a ship, mid-lunge with a grey sword, aiming at the face of a giant man with glowing gold eyes. She wore a helmet decorated with feathers, a shield hefted up with the face of the Minotaur. His head ached for a moment and he tore his eyes away.

He knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a voice called from inside. Megara stepped inside and felt himself immediately taking a knee.

A man sat behind the desk. He was handsome, with golden hair and grey eyes that cut him to the bone. An air of cold solemnity made the office feel tense. Shame, because it was a pretty office- fine wood furniture, a large window that allowed sunlight to light up a tank full offish. Photos and trinkets decorated the shelves next to books about mythology. A sword holder sat, waiting for a sword that hadn’t returned yet. On the desk, there were four stacks of letters.

“Ave, Megara King.”

“Ave, Lord Mercury,” Because that who this was, not Hermes. Megara wasn’t sure how he knew, but he just did.

“Rise, boy,” Megara did, keeping his eyes firm on the floor. It helped him realize that there was a stain, like someone had stained tea and hadn’t cleaned it up in time. “Your father sent me to correct an error that I made.”

“An…error, my lord?”

The chair softly moved back. “Yes, an error,” A hand grasped his chin and forced his eyes up. “Three months ago, I made you swear an binding oath to never speak of Rhea-Kore Calimeris,” He twisted his hand back and forth, seeming to consider his features. “Something not needed. After all, R.K. kept the fact that she had met you secret for over eleven years.”

“Wait…we met?”

“Yes, once. I’m sure you don’t remember. She had been very badly hurt at the time, but I digress.”

Another thought popped in. “Will I remember more?”

“I do not know,” Mercury admitted as it pained him to say. “I do not know who cast this spell on you. I believe it might be Juno, but with her missing-”

“Wait, she’s missing?!”

“Why do you think there’s a lockdown?” Mercury didn’t let Megara answer further questions. His hand slid up to grip his forehead and he whispered something, too low for him to make out. He felt the pulses of magic though, wriggling into his brain. Something unlocked, just as Mercury’s eyes flew open.

“...my lord?”

“She stole your memories,” Mercury’s cold nature seemed to have fractured, revealing shock and then fear. He yanked his hands away, seeming to mutter to himself. “...what is she thinking…if she did this to him, then…” He grabbed what looked to be a small fidget toy, gripping and fussing with it as he seemed to think.

Megara tried to think, but nothing came to him. Nothing of his past, nothing before he woke up on the bus…no. Wait. His memory of R.K…

“I really shouldn’t be talking to you.”

SLAM.

Mercury had slammed the toy down on the desk. “If Juno has done what she has done to you to R.K., Uncle will have hell to pay,” he said, not looking back at him. “Now, get out.”

Megara wasted no time.

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Fifty-Nine: How to Fight a Sea God (Badly)

The massive sea creature reared up, its colossal head breaching the waterline, glowing with ancient energy and bad vibes. Its eyes locked on the Sunny like it recognized you all… and wasn't impressed.

You, standing at the front of the ship, grinned up at it like it had just challenged you to a duel and underestimated how petty you could be.

“Okay,” you muttered, bouncing on your heels. “So we go for the face, yeah?”

Zoro: “Always.” Usopp: “IT’S FORTY METERS TALL, IT DOESN’T HAVE A WEAK SIDE.”

Luffy launched himself into the air, yelling, “GUM GUM FRIENDSHIP PUNCH!” You yelled back, “That’s not even a move!”

Zoro leapt off the railing after him, swords drawn, because if Luffy was doing something dumb, he had to match it or suffer emotionally.

Sanji launched into the sky with a fiery spin-kick, shouting something about “protecting beauty from ugliness.”

You stayed on the ship, hands on hips, watching the monster raise a claw the size of a building.

“…We're so bad at planning,” you muttered, and then you jumped.

You landed on the beast’s arm and sprinted up it like it was a gym treadmill. Behind you, Sanji flipped midair, kicked its shoulder hard enough to crack coral, while Zoro clashed with its other claw, sparks flying. Robin’s arms erupted along its neck, grappling it back, while Nami zapped the runes along its scales with a burst of lightning.

Chopper shouted from the ship, “BE CAREFUL!!” Usopp fired shots at its glowing eyes, yelling, “Distract it while I figure out if it's allergic to pepper sauce!!”

You were cackling. “Let’s see what this thing’s made of!” And then you punched its head. Not gently. Not thoughtfully. Just pure battle-happy chaos.

The sound was like cracking stone and thunder kissing.

The monster screeched, head reeling back, eyes flaring wide.

Luffy landed beside you, laughing. “YEAH!! THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT!!”

“Hell yeah!” you yelled, “Let’s make this thing wish it stayed extinct!”

You and Luffy double-punched its jaw. Zoro sliced across its chest. Sanji dive-kicked its back. It flailed—

And then dove.

Back beneath the waves.

Taking you, Luffy, and Zoro with it.

“Oh, come on!” you gasped as the three of you were swept off its head and sucked underwater in a violent swirl.

“WE FORGOT ABOUT THE OCEAN PART,” Zoro shouted. “LUFFY’S A DEVIL FRUIT USER!!” “I’M NOT EVEN A GOOD SWIMMER!!”

You grabbed Luffy with one arm, Zoro with the other, and let your full strength kick in, launching all three of you back toward the surface with a massive underwater push.

You burst into the air coughing, dragging them both with you.

“CHOPPER! TOWEL! HOT TEA! PRAISE ME!!” you wheezed. “AND A LIFEGUARD CERTIFICATION!”

Robin helped lift you back over the railing while Chopper fussed over your head and Nami handed you a towel like a disappointed babysitter.

Sanji dropped down beside you, panting. “Never again. You’re grounded from leaping onto sea beasts.”

You wiped water from your eyes. “I won, though.”

Zoro flopped to the deck. “No. The ocean won. Again.”

Luffy sat up with seaweed in his nose. “That was AWESOME.”

Nami smacked him. “No more touching ancient glowing things. Ever.”

You held up a thumb, still grinning. “We lived. I call that a victory.”

Robin smiled faintly. “And I call this a very Straw Hat solution to a divine trial.”

Usopp peeked from behind a barrel. “So... did we pass?”

The water stilled. The beast didn’t resurface. Instead, a glowing sigil floated above the sea for a moment—then burst into harmless light.

You exhaled, chest heaving. Then collapsed onto your back with a triumphant grin.

“Hell yeah,” you muttered. “Somebody bring me snacks. And a pillow. And a medal.”

Sanji was already on it. Zoro grumbled. Luffy giggled. And the Sunny drifted back into motion, the sea calm again…

Until the next dumb thing found you.

You were sore. Everything hurt—your shoulders, your legs, your pride (after that dramatic ocean exit)—but none of it stopped you from bragging your ass off the entire next morning.

“You should’ve seen the way I punched that sea god in the face,” you said for the sixth time. “The whole sea shook. The clouds trembled. The laws of nature feared me.”

“You also almost drowned,” Nami said without looking up from her charts.

You waved her off. “Minor details.”

Robin smiled behind her book. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d think you were exaggerating.”

Zoro passed behind you, muttering, “You are exaggerating.”

You turned and slapped him on the back. “Admit it. You were impressed.”

“I was busy saving your overconfident self from the sea floor.”

“I was saving you,” you shot back. “I carried your mossy ass to the surface like a heroic mermaid!”

Luffy suddenly popped his head up from under the table. “You’re a mermaid?!”

“No, Luffy—”

“THAT’S SO COOL.”

You casually wandered into the galley rubbing your aching side, fully intending to steal a snack, only to be immediately met with a dramatic gasp.

“Mon dieu,” Sanji said, clasping his chest. “Are you hurt?”

You raised a brow. “Just a little sore. Nothing I can’t handle.”

He was at your side in a second, pulling out a chair for you, setting down a tray of fruit, tea, and a rose you absolutely did not see him pluck from thin air. “My goddess of the sea and chaos—please, rest. You’ve done too much. Let your beauty shine without the burden of battle.”

You took the tea with a snort. “Sanji, you saw me uppercut a sea god, not star in a romance drama.”

“You could do both,” he said seriously.

You just rolled your eyes. “I’m going to eat three pastries and then go stretch until I can punch a mountain again.”

Sanji blushed. “You say the sweetest things.”

Later, while you were lounging on the deck, Luffy plopped down beside you with his classic big grin.

“Hey, so what’s the next thing we punch?”

You blinked. “We just fought a giant magical sea monster. Can we have one day where we don’t punch ancient spirits or nearly drown?”

Luffy laughed. “But you looked so happy doing it!”

You grinned despite yourself. “Okay, yeah, it was kinda awesome.”

He nodded. “I bet the next island has something even cooler to punch.”

Usopp, overhearing this from above, yelled, “PLEASE NO.”

Chopper called up, “Maybe just like… a bunny next time?”

Zoro grunted. “A bunny that breathes fire, probably.”

You shrugged. “I’m not picky. If it challenges me, I’ll throw hands.”

Robin, without looking up: “That’s exactly what I told the last librarian who tried to overcharge me.”

You and Luffy gasped. “You fought a librarian?!”

Robin smiled. “Metaphorically.” You: “Still hot.”

—--

The crew gathered around the table, the sea calm once again, stars overhead. Dinner was loud, full of laughter and retellings of the same story but bigger and more dramatic every time.

You leaned back in your chair, arms behind your head, full and content, grinning at the crew you’d bleed for.

You were bruised. You were tired. You were probably going to get yelled at again soon.

But your heart was full. And whatever the next chaos was— You’d be ready.

Because you were a Straw Hat. And normal was overrated.

You woke up sore. Not the usual post-fight sore. Not even the “I slept weird and now my spine feels like it’s in protest” sore. No. This was betrayal. This was insult to injury. This was a deep, throbbing bruise on your ass.

Specifically: left cheek. The worst cheek. The one you always leaned on. The one Sanji sometimes cupped flirtatiously when helping you off things. The one you landed on mid-fight yesterday when the sea god backhanded you into the ship’s mast like a ping pong ball.

You sat up. Winced. Tried to stand. Yelped.

“Absolutely not,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “This is an assassination attempt.”

You shuffled onto the deck like someone learning how to walk for the first time. Legs stiff, posture hunched, hands on your lower back like an old grandpa.

Robin looked up from her book. “Is this your new fighting stance?”

“I’m in pain,” you groaned. “Deep, existential pain.”

Sanji turned from the grill, immediately rushing to your side. “What’s wrong? Did someone touch you? Are you wounded? Emotionally compromised?”

You hissed as you sat. “Yes, and no, and shut up—” YELP. You shot back to your feet.

Everyone turned. Eyes on you.

“…You alright?” Zoro asked, clearly trying not to smirk.

You narrowed your eyes. “No.” Beat. “It’s… it’s my butt.”

Silence.

Then Usopp snorted. Then Chopper gasped. Then Luffy yelled, “BUTT INJURY!” like it was a team name.

Sanji blanched. “Your perfect peach of a posterior?! No!”

Nami smacked him in the back of the head. “Sanji.”

Robin sipped her tea, smiling behind the cup. “We all suffer eventually.”

You flopped down on a barrel, laying dramatically across it stomach-down like a fallen soldier. “I can’t sit. I can’t lie on my back. I can’t spar. I am buttbroken.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “That’s a word now?”

“It is when your entire existence is ruined by one big fat bruise right where the sun don’t shine.”

Chopper, ever the professional, tried to help.

“I can put together a cream for that!” You blinked at him. “…You’re a reindeer. What do you know about butt bruises?”

“Everything,” he said, deadly serious.

Meanwhile, Sanji offered a cushion. It was heart-shaped. It made things worse.

Usopp made a “seat throne” out of spare crates. It immediately broke under your weight. He blamed sabotage.

Robin offered a solution involving spatial rearrangement of muscle tension using hands from multiple angles. You didn’t know whether to be intrigued or terrified.

Zoro just stared, fully unbothered. “Walk it off.”

“Walk it off?! I’ll limp for a lifetime!”

—---

You laid face-down on a pile of pillows that had been aggressively fluffed by Sanji. Your only goal: not to move. Every shift? A new reminder that gravity was your worst enemy.

You heard Luffy’s voice from across the room. “Hey, does that mean if (Y/N) gets in another fight, she’ll just spin in the air because she can’t land on her butt?”

“I’ll end you, Luffy,” you mumbled into the pillow.

“Spin like a Beyblade,” Usopp whispered. Chopper giggled. Robin chuckled. Zoro flat-out laughed.

You groaned. “This is the lowest moment of my life.”

Sanji appeared beside you, gently placing an ice pack on your ass.. “You’re still perfect,” he whispered.

You grunted. “You’re lucky I can’t stand up and punch you.”

“…I know.”

Tomorrow, you’d recover. Tomorrow, the bruise would fade. But today?

Today, you were The Pirate Who Couldn’t Sit. And no one would let you forget it.

[cloudy-lands]

While you wait for the scenario here is non related headcanon & oneshot!

How you would look like in the scenario (currently writing)

Masked (early design) (newer design)

The non related stuff I wrote: Headcanon Prompt:

Lute’s heart was a cacophony of emotions as she stood amidst the ruins of what was once a battlefield. The air still tasted of ash and sorrow, a bitter reminder of the extermination that had claimed countless exorcists, including Adam, the one she had secretly admired for his unexpected badassery.

In the quiet aftermath, a secret bloomed within her—a new life, a spark of Adam that she carried. It was a bittersweet revelation; joy intertwined with the ache of loss. She missed him, his laughter, his moments of badass decisiveness, the way he looked at her as if she was the only one in the room.

She remembered the day she had taken his halo, a glowing remnant of his existence. With a mix of hope and desperation, she brought it to Sera, the wise one who knew the ancient ways. “Can he be brought back?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sera, with eyes that had seen the turn of centuries, nodded. “There is a way,” she said, and thus began the ritual to resecrute Adam from the essence of his halo.

The process was arduous, filled with chants and symbols that danced in the air, weaving the fabric of life from the threads of the afterlife. And then, in a burst of celestial light, Adam was there, standing before them—disoriented, but very much alive.

He blinked, taking in the sight of Lute, Sera, and Emily, who stood by with bated breath. His gaze fell upon Lute, and he noticed the change in her, the gentle swell of her belly. “Oh, Hey Lute!!! What’s with the belly?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

A warm flush spread across Lute’s cheeks as she met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Well, Adam, Sir. You’re… a father,” she said, the words sending a ripple of shock and elation through Adam.

His response was immediate and full of life; he swept Lute into his arms, lifting her off the ground in a whirlwind of joy. They spun around, laughter mingling with tears, as the reality of their reunion and the promise of their child settled in their hearts.

In that moment, they were no longer just survivors of a cruel fate; they were a family, bound by love that had transcended the greatest of trials.

One Shot

*kind of relates to the headcanon above

After the eradication of sinners and Adam's demise, Lute discovered she was pregnant with Y/N. Despite her happiness, she deeply missed Adam. Their love had been genuine. Lute vividly remembered taking Adam's halo after his death and bringing it to Sera, hoping for a way to resurrect him. Fortunately, there was a solution. Sometime later, Adam was summoned back from his halo—the very one Lute had taken. Upon reappearing, Adam seemed disoriented. His gaze swept the area, and when he spotted Lute, he noticed something different about her: her belly was rounder. Adam, never one to hold back, blurted out, "Oh, hey Lute! What's with the belly?" Lute blushed and averted her eyes. "Well, Adam, Sir," she stammered, "you're... a father." Adam's joy was palpable. He spun Lute around in the air, hugging her tightly. "You're what now?" "Pregnant," Lute confirmed. "We're having a child." "We... we are?" "Yes, it was bound to happen eventually. And now our baby is here." Adam's disbelief was evident. "I can't believe it." "But I'm glad you're back," Lute said softly. "I need you." "How long was I gone?" "Long enough for me to start a new life." Adam's next question was straightforward: "Who's the dad?" "It's you, dummy." Lute leaned in. "Now kiss me. It's been too long." Adam obliged, his lips tender against hers. His hands rested on her stomach, feeling the baby kick in response. "So, what's our child's name going to be?" Lute asked. "I was thinking... Y/N. How does that sound?" "Perfect. Let's hope our child inherits your looks." "Why not yours?" "Because you're the beautiful one," Lute teased. "Our baby should take after you." Adam grinned. "You're a charmer. That's why I love you." "And that's why I'm a lucky man—with a great wife and now a kid." "I love you too." "So, Y/N, huh?" "Yep." "Well, I'm ready to take care of Y/N." "Same here. Let's go home. Mama and the baby need rest." "Sure thing, dear." As they walked through the streets of the city, Adam held Lute close, his touch gentle against her back. The baby responded with kicks, and a soft smile graced Lute's lips. The city seemed to pulse with new life—a beacon of hope for their future. "Y/N," Lute said, her voice filled with anticipation. "What do you think of Y/N as our baby's name? I find it rather endearing. Or do you have any other suggestions?" Adam's smile widened as he put his arm around Lute's shoulder. He leaned in, planting a tender kiss on her lips, then her cheek, and finally her forehead. "I think it's perfect," he murmured. Lute nestled her head against his chest, content. "I'm so glad we're starting this new life together," she whispered. "Me too," Adam replied, his voice filled with emotion. "Let's go," Adam said, leading Lute toward their home. The anticipation of their child's arrival hung in the air, weaving their love into the very fabric of their existence.

[Writer's Perspective] Adam's emotions were a whirlwind when he learned of Lute's pregnancy. Joy and excitement mingled with the ache of missing out on those early moments. Determined to be there for his child, he vowed to make every moment count. [Character's Perspective] Time flowed steadily, and their child's room stood ready—a sanctuary of anticipation. Lute's eagerness to meet their little one mirrored Adam's nervous excitement. As they lay in bed, waiting for the pivotal moment, Lute's voice broke the silence. "I can't wait to meet our child." Adam's reply was heartfelt. "Same here, dear. Nervous, but thrilled." They exchanged glances, their love woven into the very fabric of the room. The air buzzed with anticipation.

Months had passed And then it arrived—the labor pains, fierce and unyielding. Lute clung to Adam's hand, her grip unyielding. He wondered if his hand might break from the intensity. The doctors arrived, their presence reassuring. Lute pushed with all her might, the pain seemingly endless. But then, like a miracle, it was over—the cries of a newborn filling the room. "Congratulations," the doctor announced. "You have a baby boy!" Lute and Adam shared a look of pure joy. Their son—the continuation of their celestial lineage—had arrived. The doctors whisked the baby away briefly for examination. Lute's eyes followed them, her heart swelling with love. Soon, they returned, cradling a crying infant—their precious child, a beacon of hope in a world of possibilities.  Doctors: Everything checks out. You can name him now. Lute: (Y/N). Adam: Welcome, Y/N. Lute: (Y/N), my son. I'm your mama, and this is your dad. Adam smiled, reaching out to their newborn. Adam: Hey, Y/N. Doctors: Alright, let us know if you need anything. Congratulations on the child. Lute and Adam exchanged grateful glances. Lute and Adam: Thank you. As the doctors left, Y/N's cries subsided. His tiny eyes blinked up at his parents. Lute: Hello there, little one. I'm your mama. Adam: And I'm your dad, Y/N. They smiled, their hearts full, and continued talking to their new child. Later, they drifted off to sleep, cradling their precious gift. It was the best day for Lute—a healthy child, Adam by her side, and a new chapter unfolding.

.sorry for any grammar mistakes as i am not fluent in English.

[morocosmos]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Day 6 - Halcyon

Masterlist Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Pairings: Leofard Myste, Warrior of Light Rating: Gen Additional Notes: - Ao3 Link

As time with the Redbills passed, pockets of routine began to form in Moro’a’s day, like water carving out the bends of a river. Sky pirates weren’t exempt from dirty clothes and dusty surfaces, and mealtimes were often had together, far more often than Moro’a thought a band of ruffians from all walks of life might. Stacia would scold Utata for trying to skip their shared repast to tinker at machinery; Ghimsald would sometimes burst into song, picking out one of the many tunes he’d gathered from his days as an altogether different kind of pirate, and cajoling the other Redbills into joining him when the ale had settled into their bellies.

And on many nights, including this one, Moro’a found himself on Leofard’s rooftop, gazing up at the Sea of Clouds’ endless swathes of stars. The air smelled of T’kana’s cooking, and the lightly-perfumed smoke wafting from Leofard’s direction; the hyur rarely indulged, or so he claimed, but tonight was just the right sort of evening for a drag.

“I worked me arse off haulin’ those baubles out of that cave!” Leofard exclaimed in offence when Moro’a questioned him. “Wasn’t my fault some ancient Dravanian decided to bury her keepsakes there, or that a ruddy ‘bo tried to launch flamin’ rocks on our heads. A puff or two is me demonstrating restraint.”

Moro’a grinned, content to let it slide. “You know, the Dravanians sometimes burn camphor branches in Anyx Trine. Mostly to keep the Gnath away, but some of them like the smell.”

“Are you telling me dragons smoke? Ess Khas should’ve given me some.”

Moro’a snorted. Leave it to Leofard to consider something like that without an onze of hesitation. He shifted, resting his head on his palms as he settled into the pile of blankets Leofard had spread out on the rooftop.

“It’s a good life, eh?” Leofard said, somewhere between a remark and a question. “Adventure just ‘round the corner, wherever and whenever you wish. A peaceful night when you’ve had your fill.” 

“You? Desire peace?”

“Hah! Still full of surprises, am I? Though I suppose you weren’t in a position to take everything in when we were huntin’ down that Mhachi ship.” He paused, holding the cigar to his lips before exhaling a stream of smoke. “To be honest, I’m mighty chuffed you accepted my offer.”

Moro’a turned to look at him, curious. “Why’s that?”

“I suppose I wanted to give you a taste of this.” Leofard’s hand swept across the sky, gesturing at the whole expanse. “The Redbill way of life. We do as we please and go where we please, aye, but we still have the things what define us. A place to rest our wings. And when it comes to it, there’s nothin’ else like home.”

Home, Moro’a considered. He’d long accepted for himself that home was something he carried with him, memories and bonds he held in his heart. A wanderer’s refuge, incapable of being rooted to any one place. 

But he did like it here — an isle suspended amongst eternal clouds, fashioned into a home for a found flock. It would never be a permanent fixture for him, he knew, but a familiar haunt? “I could get used to this,” he admitted softly, moreso to himself than Leofard.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Hot Spot

In the heart of Reach City, where the skyline was punctuated by the imposing silhouette of Fleetcom HQ, there lay a secret so closely guarded it might as well have been another level of classified Spartan training. This secret, however, involved neither covert ops nor alien technology, but something far more elusive to John-117—a genuine good time.

Linda-058, sniper extraordinaire and part-time Spartan social coordinator (a self-appointed title, mind you), had taken it upon herself to drag John, the Master Chief, out of his shell—or, more accurately, his Mjolnir armor. It wasn't that John didn't know how to have fun; it's just that his idea of a good time usually involved a little more... carnage.

"John, when's the last time you did something that didn't involve shooting or exploding something?" Linda prodded one day, as they were rearming themselves for what felt like the billionth time.

"I'm sure I had breakfast once without any explosions," John replied dryly, without looking up from his MA5B Assault Rifle.

"That doesn't count if you're eating in the mess hall and a Grunt's plasma grenade accidentally goes off," Linda retorted, her tone light but insistent.

John paused, considering her point. "Fair enough. I suppose it's been a while."Linda seized the moment, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and determination. "There's this spot in Reach City. It's like Mecca for Spartans, except with less praying and more... indulging. It's time you experienced it."

John raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite his usual reticence. "What kind of indulging are we talking about here? Because if it's another one of those 'knit your own socks' team-building exercises, I'm out."

Linda laughed, a sound as rare and surprising as a Grunt without a methane tank. "Trust me, it's nothing like that. Think of it as an... oasis. A slice of paradise where you can just be John."

The idea of being 'just John' was as alien to the Master Chief as the Covenant themselves, but the earnestness in Linda's voice piqued his curiosity. With a resigned nod, he agreed. "Alright, but if I end up knitting, I'm blaming you."

Their journey to the bistro was an exercise in stealth, not because they needed to be unseen, but because John insisted on practicing his 'urban camouflage techniques'—much to Linda's amusement.

The bistro, hidden in plain sight among the historic buildings of Reach's old quarter, buzzed with an energy that felt worlds away from the front lines.

Stepping through the door, John half-expected to find a room full of Spartans in full battle rattle. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of his fellow super-soldiers laughing, sharing stories, and—most shockingly—participating in a karaoke battle that was currently being dominated by a Spartan known for his inability to carry a tune even if it came with a handle.

Linda guided them to a table with a good view of the spectacle, ordering two of the house specials before John could protest. "See, it's about finding joy in the little things, like discovering your squad leader sings 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' with more passion than he commands an assault."

John, watching the performance with a blend of horror and fascination, couldn't help but crack a smile. "I'll never hear that briefing the same way again," he confessed, the tension easing from his shoulders for the first time in months.

Their conversation meandered from the ridiculous to the sublime, from tales of missions gone awry to dreams of peace that felt as distant as the stars above. The food, when it arrived, was a simple affair that tasted like heaven to taste buds dulled by too many meals consumed in haste between battles.

As the evening wore on, John found himself swept up in the camaraderie, participating in a Spartans-vs-Civilians trivia contest that proved his knowledge of ancient Earth history was almost as good as his marksmanship. Almost.

"I have to admit, this was not what I expected," John said to Linda as they made their way back, the streets of Reach City quiet in the late hour.

Linda smiled, a rare, genuine expression that spoke volumes. "Sometimes, the hardest battles we fight are the ones against ourselves, against the part of us that forgets we're human first, Spartans second."

John considered this, the truth of her words settling in. "Thanks, Linda. For reminding me there's more to life than just blood and gunmetal."

"Anytime, John. Just promise me you'll leave the knitting needles at home next time," Linda teased, her laughter echoing into the night, a sound as hopeful as the dawn they were fighting for.

[magical-mistakes-vm]

4

"Listen here, little witch, I think you know exactly who and what I am." Suddenly the air around them seemed to hum and vibrate. Vollrath’s face became a mask of rage, his eyes hard, and voice cold.  The distance between them was closed in a mere step, his head tilting to look down at her, his gaze even more intense and intimidating than they had been at any time up to that point.  Mahala didn't flinch, her exterior hiding her instant regret at provoking him and her inability to move. "Do you really want to start a confrontation with me right here and now?  I would consider your answer very carefully.  Remember where you are and the mistakes you almost made in the forest on MY land.  Once you summoned your mother, how would you contain her? How would you vanquish her back to the other side of the veil? What would happen if another spirit showed up? Were you ready for any of that?  So, again, do you really want to take me on?" 

Through all he said, the volume of Vollrath’s voice did not raise.  His tone made the Arctic Circle seem like a tropical vacation, but he did not yell.  He'd also, at some point, taken her hand again. The action had been so smooth that she had not even noticed until he had stopped speaking. Why he had done it was once more a mystery to her, this man was so confusing!

Mahala wasn't sure how she didn't run from the room like a scared mouse being chased by a lion. In that moment, Vollrath’s rage had him appearing as if he was a lethal predator and it shook her to her core.  From somewhere she found the fortitude to stand her ground.  Within her chest, the beating of her heart threatened to break ribs to free itself, and her lungs felt too constricted to allow full breath, yet she still remained on her feet. 

After almost a full moment of silence, Mahala gave Vollrath a reply, the tick that had started in his jaw indicating his already foul mood was further deteriorating.  "I know that I made a mistake considering the ritual to summon my mother, you don't have to remind me.  That doesn't mean I'm a slave or captive to be ordered around like I do not have free will, Vollrath."  She closed her mouth before her voice started to shake.  She'd made it that far sounding confident, best to keep it that way.  

"I consider you neither." He leaned in closer, his hazel eyes almost seeming to glow in the dim light.  Still his voice was calm and quiet, but his demeanor was less intimidating.  "You are an untrained witch with a great deal of wild power who is currently under my protection.  If I let you leave without at least a couple basic protection spells, information on how to contact me, and some basic discussion on what you are and how hunters will find you, do you think you would be safe?" His voice was smooth and almost too calm for how rattled Mahala felt.  Just as he finished speaking Vollrath’s thumb swept the back of her hand and he squeezed very gently.  He would have done more, but given how keyed up she was, he preferred not being slapped or more.  Everything would come in time, he could feel the ancients and ancestors working.

Mahala knew that there was something he’d done with the caress of the back of her hand, but she didn’t know what.  She could feel herself relaxing, her breathing easing, and her heart calming, even if her emotions were still a tempest.  "What are you doing?" Her voice was quiet and sounded small as her eyes searched his like they held some answer that she would be able to discern.  He somewhat frightened her and what he had just said reminded her just how dangerous he was, and also how much she needed him at the moment. 

Unshed tears sparkled in her whiskey eyes, reflecting in the dim light coming in from the hallway to the mudroom they were currently standing in, there was no way Vollrath could miss them.  His free hand rose to gently lay against her cheek, trying to comfort the upset he had caused.  There was something about the witch that made him feel possessive and protective over her in a way he did towards none other under his purview.  It was hard for him not to draw her into a comforting embrace to try to sooth her. Everything he normally avoided was what he wanted to do, with her.

"You might not like my style, Mahala, but I am trying to help you.  I need you to listen and work with me.  Sometimes that may mean I have to do things you don’t like to get your attention.  You are safe with me, always.  That , I promise." His eyes met hers evenly as he spoke.  If she ran, he would have to chase her.  If she fought, he would be forced to restrain her.  If she'd just work with him, he could keep her safe and alive. “Do not make me be harsh with you, it is not what I want.  I'd prefer to help calm and comfort you as we do this.”  He hated scaring her which was unusual, normally he gave not one single fuck.

Once more his fingers slid into her hair to pull her gently forward to press a soft kiss to the middle of her forehead for the second time of the night.  As he did, he heard her exhale a stuttered breath and felt her trembling fingers rest against his chest.  Maybe she was starting to trust him.  Maybe this could work if he could also control his own temper, a small feet in its own right. 

"Why do you do that?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.  She didn't want to challenge him, but she did want to know.  Mahala found that for some reason she liked it when he did, but it made no sense that he did it.

"Does it bother you?" He tilted his head so he could match her volume, his lips now brushing the curve of her ear as he spoke. Why did he wish his lips to be on her skin, to find hers?  He ached for it. His mind already playing over the scenarios in which he could further contact.

Very slightly her head shook, the contact with him sending vibrations over her skin and giving her chills.  Not only was he very powerful, he was devastatingly and darkly handsome, a combination that was giving her totally inappropriate butterflies at the moment.  His small shows of affection were part of her confusion regarding the whole situation.

"No, I would just like to know the reason." Mahala got enough control of her breathing and voice to ask.

A slow smile formed on his lips as he began to answer her, "you are very special, little witch.  More powerful than you realize. You have me captivated and draw me to you in ways I have yet to fully understand. I feel the need to personally see to your protection, training, and education. I want you to trust me, Mahala." Vollrath, to his credit, was honest.  He didn't mention he normally did not kiss women anywhere, even in romantic settings or that he would gladly do more if she'd allow, but he felt he'd given her enough information for the moment.   This was especially true since he had no idea why he craved her so.  

On Mahala’s part, his answer did nothing to quell those butterflies she was already feeling.  Without realizing it, her fingers had gripped the fabric of his shirt.  "I will trust you, Vollrath, unless you give me a reason not to." Before she could think better of it, she turned her head slightly and left an ever so soft kiss on his cheek right next to the corner of his mouth.

Mahala Codona was going to be the death of him, Vollrath was quite sure.  If she didn't frustrate him by making him want to throttle her, she was going to cause him to want to end the world to keep her safe.  And those petal soft lips that had just caressed his cheek, they became a whole new temptation of their own; which had him doubting his own sanity. 

[breathlessbouquet]

Ties That Bind

---

Chapter Three:

Carrie sat cross-legged on the bed, surrounded by her plushies, watching Sunshine with an easy smile. Despite the warmth in her expression, Sunshine remained tense, her hands resting stiffly in her lap.

The room, soft and pink, felt like a strange contrast to the unease curling in her stomach.

Carrie had been talking—about the house, about the rules, about how things weren’t so bad if you just followed along. Sunshine listened, but she didn’t believe it.

Not so bad? She was trapped here. Just because her cage had softer edges didn’t mean it wasn’t a cage.

Carrie seemed to notice her silence and tilted her head. “You’re really quiet, huh?”

Sunshine shrugged slightly. What was she supposed to say? That she was terrified? That she felt like prey in a house full of predators?

Carrie didn’t seem offended by the lack of response. Instead, she smiled again, soft and almost reassuring. “I think I’ll call you Sunshine.”

Sunshine blinked. “…What?”

“The name suits you,” Carrie said simply. “You don’t have one, right?”

Sunshine hesitated. No, she didn’t. Not anymore. She had been someone before all of this, but that person felt distant, like a dream half-forgotten upon waking.

Carrie took her silence as confirmation. “Then Sunshine it is.”

Before she could respond, a knock at the door made her flinch. The door opened before permission could be given, and Hannibal stepped inside, composed as ever. His eyes swept the room before landing on her.

“Dinner is ready,” he said smoothly. “And it’s time for introductions.”

Sunshine’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to meet anyone else. She didn’t want to sit at a table with monsters.

Carrie stood up easily, brushing off her skirt. “Come on, Sunshine,” she said gently. “It’ll be okay.”

Sunshine wanted to argue, but what choice did she have? Slowly, she rose to her feet, following Carrie and Hannibal out into the dimly lit hallway.

The dining room was large, the long wooden table set with more plates than she expected. Candles flickered in the low light, casting eerie shadows across the walls. The atmosphere was heavy, like walking into the lair of something ancient and waiting.

They were already there.

Sunshine halted in the doorway, every muscle in her body tensing at the sight of them.

Her eyes landed on Freddy Krueger first, and she immediately wrinkled her nose in disgust. Him again. He sat comfortably, grinning like he owned the place—or, worse, like he owned her.

Freddy noticed her expression and chuckled. “Aww, you missed me already, huh?”

Sunshine’s lip curled, but before she could say anything, Carrie gently took her hand and pulled her forward. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Sunshine didn’t move willingly, but she let herself be led further into the room, her pulse hammering in her throat.

Carrie gestured first to a masked man sitting at the far end of the table. “That’s Vincent Sinclair,” she said softly. “He doesn’t talk much, but he’s nice. He’s an artist—he makes sculptures and paints.”

Vincent said nothing, but his masked face remained locked on her. Sunshine wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

Carrie moved on quickly, pointing toward two men sitting side by side, both of them watching her like she was a particularly interesting new game.

“These two are Stu and Billy,” she explained. “They’re… kind of a lot, but they’re not too bad if you ignore them.”

Stu grinned wide, leaning forward onto the table. “Fresh meat, huh?” He nudged Billy with an elbow. “What do you think?”

Billy, quieter but no less intense, only smirked slightly. “She’s nervous,” he noted. “Smart girl.”

Sunshine stiffened.

Carrie ignored them, her attention moving to a young man sitting with perfect posture, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

“That’s Norman Bates,” she continued. “He’s really polite, but… just don’t make him upset, okay?” Sunshine swallowed hard. That was hardly comforting. Norman only offered her a small, almost shy smile in response.

Then, finally, Carrie turned back to her. “That’s everyone. Well, except for Brahms. You’ll meet him later.”

Sunshine barely nodded, feeling completely out of place.

Except… she wasn’t alone.

Someone else was watching. She could feel it.

Unseen, hidden within the walls, he watched her with unwavering intensity. He hadn’t even seen her face properly, but it didn’t matter. She was his now. The moment she stepped into the house, she belonged to him.

He wouldn’t let her go.

She just didn’t know it yet.

Sunshine sat stiffly, staring at the plate in front of her. The tension in the room was thick, but Hannibal remained unshaken as he addressed them all.

“This is our new guest,” he said. “You will treat her as one of us.”

Freddy scoffed. “Oh yeah? And what if she doesn’t wanna be one of us?”

Hannibal simply smiled. “That won’t be an issue.”

Carrie leaned in slightly, her voice softer. “Sunshine, this is everyone. You’ll get used to them.”

Sunshine doubted that.

The meal began, but she barely touched her food. She was too aware of her company. Of the way they all looked at her.

And of the feeling that somewhere, behind the walls, someone else was looking, too.

[veiledmary]

the pale afternoon sun filtered through the twisted, gnarled branches of the old oaks that stood like sentinels around the cemetery. long, golden rays of light broke through the canopy, casting shadows that stretched across the weathered gravestones, their inscriptions faded and forgotten by time. the soft rustle of wind whispered through the leaves, carrying with it the faint, familiar scent of damp earth and decaying flowers. it was quiet here—a kind of stillness that only the dead seemed to understand.

at the base of an ancient stone angel, its wings chipped and moss-covered, mary bennett sat cross-legged, her sketchbook balanced delicately on her lap. her pale fingers moved gracefully across the paper, tracing the shape of something that had only just come into focus—a shadowed figure, half-formed and elusive, lingering at the edge of her vision. every so often, her brow furrowed, and she would glance up, emerald eyes scanning the cemetery's mist-draped pathways, as though trying to catch sight of what she was drawing in full.

the figure wasn’t there—not in any tangible sense. but she felt it. Its presence lingered, cold and heavy like the chill in the autumn air. her hand worked quickly, almost on its own, capturing the spirit’s form—tall, distant, a face obscured in darkness, the lines of its body twisting and bending unnaturally.

mary’s lips parted, and a breath escaped her, a misty exhale in the cooling air. the atmosphere had changed, a deeper cold settling around her as if the ground itself had shifted. she felt the faint pull of the spirit, the weight of its unfinished story pressing on her shoulders, the sorrow that clung to it like fog.

as her graphite pencil swept across the page, she lost herself in the process, unaware of how deeply she had been drawn into this haunting presence. her gaze softened, her body still except for the rhythmic strokes of her hand. she didn’t notice the shifting shadows around her, didn’t hear the distant crunch of footsteps approaching her from behind.

her focus was entirely on the sketch—the way the lines of the figure seemed to writhe, to resist being captured. there was a sadness in it, something unresolved, a cry for help without words. her heart clenched, the familiar sensation of being drawn too close to the edge of another's pain, the weight of it making her breath catch in her throat.

just as she felt the familiar cold brush of a spirit moving past her, something shifted—something that didn’t belong to the world of the dead. she felt a chill along her porcelain skin, and a sudden awareness washed over her.

she wasn’t alone.

her hand stilled, the pencil pausing mid-stroke as she slowly lifted her gaze from the page, eyes narrowing slightly as she scanned the surrounding gravestones. the cemetery was still, but the air felt charged, alive in a way that only happened when someone else entered the space—someone living.

mary exhaled softly, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side, listening.

“are you here for them... or for me?” she murmured, her voice low, soft, almost too quiet for the wind to carry. her question hung in the air, waiting for an answer.

[your-good-pal-chevy]

Swordtember : 25 : Prism

Lionel and Kalliste stood with their backs to each other. Trapped within the Imperial ruins, they did not know from which direction their foe would strike.

"You know," Lionel said, "At the very least, things could be worse."

Kalliste let out a weak chuckle. "I'm not sure how."

"At least there's light down here," Lionel said, "And I know, I know, that makes this the part where all the torches and candles and such are snuffed out."

Lionel gestured with his sword, thrusting it toward a nearby candelabra. "Now!" He paused there a moment, watching the candles burn, before returning to his previous stance. "Alright, I guess we're not in that kind of tale."

Kalliste chuckled again, in spite of herself. "Now is hardly the time for jokes."

"I know, I know," Lionel said, "But you know me, can hardly keep my trap shut at the best of times."

A cold breeze swept through that ancient ruin, chilling them both to the bone. A whisper followed it, as if carried on its winds, some rasping voice muttering in an unknown tongue.

"Be ready," Kalliste whispered. She turned to face the doorway that breeze came from, her falx held in a high guard. Lionel raised his shield, putting himself between Kalliste and the darkness beyond.

A long, thin arm reached out from the shadows. Wrapped in linen and covered in golden bangles, it terminated in a clawlike hand that slowly went through the motions of several arcane gestures.

Lionel and Kalliste watched the hand for a moment, fear gripping their hearts, unsure of how to approach. Then, Lionel sensed something, and he immediately threw up his shield.

The mummified hand suddenly splayed, a beam of putrid light emanating from its palm. Its magic lanced across the room, the lights flickering as it passed by.

Lionel took the brunt of the beam on his shield, the wood blackening and warping under its assault. He was pushed back by the force of it, but Kalliste was able to step out of the way. Kalliste rushed forward, swinging her falx at the hand.

The hand retreated into the shadows. Before Kalliste could press the advantage, however, the being it was attached to emerged. It bulled into Kalliste, knocking her over as it charged into the room.

It was massive. Nearly a head taller than Lionel, a huge and lanky form wrapped in linen bandages. Its head, appearing shrunken on its huge body, was browned with the passage of untold centuries. Its eyes burned a pale green, twin stars trailing through the dim light. It floated a hair's breadth of the ground, its clawed feet trailing on the stones below it.

It pointed at Lionel, uttering some unknown challenge in its ancient tongue.

"Yeah, I don't speak that," Lionel said, huddling behind his shield. He twirled the Sword of Stars in his hand, anticipating the worst.

And the being stopped. It stared at the sword, its dry lips pulling back to reveal a mouth full of fangs. It slowly started to shake, hands balling into fists, its rictis falling open to let out a rasping attempt at a roar.

It thrust both hands forward, shooting out another pair of beams at Lionel. He brought his shield up, but the force of the beams threatened to splinter his wooden shield. His legs buckled, and he fell to one knee, pressing on the shield with both hands in an attempt to keep it between himself and that awful light.

Kalliste swung her falx at the monster and it bit deep, but the blade stuck fast and the beast seemed none the worse for it.

Lionel's shield continued to warp, rattling under the assault. The wood began to peel apart, its metal rim and rivets coming loose.

The shield shattered apart and, in that instant, Lionel was certain death would take him.

His hands went up, and had he not been clutching the Sword of Stars in his sword hand, he certainly would have died.

The beams struck the Sword of Stars. It hummed angrily, the beams meeting its edge and splitting apart. Like light passing through a prism, the beams split apart and bored holes into the masonry around the room.

Kalliste cursed loudly, bracing against the monster with one foot to pull her sword loose.

Lionel struggled to his feet, keeping the Sword of Stars between himself and the beams. He pushed forward, the immense pressure splitting apart on the edge of his crystalline blade.

The monster rasped again, no doubt cursing in its own language.

Kalliste brought her falx into its side again, hacking at the same spot she had struck before. The monster wobbled in the air, its power seemingly shaken.

The twin beams from its hands ebbed away, and it careened to the ground.

Lionel did not waste time. He charged the fiend, swinging his sword with both hands.

The monster screamed, an unholy noise echoing through the ruins. Its flesh burned where the Sword of Stars cut it, and it recoiled from the assault.

One of its hands fell to the ground. It shriveled and blackened under the might of the Durands' blade.

The monster thrashed, floating up and smashing into the ceiling, desperate to get away from that holy blade. Kalliste's falx was wrenched from her grip, still stuck in its mummified body. The monster clawed at the stump of its forearm, ripping it from its elbow and tossing it aside as those holy flames consumed it.

"I can hurt it," Lionel muttered, brandishing his sword. "Kalliste! I can hurt it!"

"I see that," she said, pointing at her weapon lodged in its side. "Bastard took my falx!"

"Boost me!" Lionel didn't wait for her to respond, he simply ran toward her, trusting her to understand.

Kalliste blinked in surprise, for a moment unsure, but then she took a wide stance with her hands held low. Lionel jumped forward, pushing off of her hands as she pulled up, and he bounced upward with her help.

Lionel swung his sword again, aiming for the monster's chest, but it anticipated the blow. The monster scrabbled away, pressing itself hard against the ceiling of the room. Lionel's sword missed by a hair, catching the flat of Kalliste's blade and ripping it loose.

The monster, unwilling to continue fighting now that it had been wounded, fled through the another doorway. It disappeared into the shadows beyond.

[okruchlodu]

Yennefer stumbled backwards from the force of her spell as she withdrew her Chaos from the child now slumped over in unnatural sleep, gasping. The Power had filled her like molten lead, pulsating and shimmering in her blood. The air around her, thrummed. She drew a shaky breath, and palmed at the swell of her chest, now heaving with every sharp, short breath as she regained her self composure. The stars in the sky rippled and flickered like stars reflected on the surface of the ocean. The moon, burning in the east, exploded with light.

She felt her throat close up, felt a numbness in her body, frost-cold and aching. She was furiously tired — exhaustion tugging at her frayed edges. There was a streak of blood splattered across her left cheek from the girl's hand, scratches down her neck from holding her down earlier. She shook her head and tossed a startingly violet look upon the Witcher, nodding her agreement, saying only, breathlessly, I know.

A vague glow had arisen on the horizon, far ahead of them, a shimmering, rippling vortex of blinding, unnatural light that seemed to be moving closer and closer with every passing hour. In the abrupt silence that enveloped the woods, Yennefer could sense something dark lurking in the shadows— the dark air around them thick and choking with it: foreboding, malicious. She breathlessly swept her gaze around them, her heart pounding frantically. Lightning sliced the sky, and in its flash the enchantress saw eyes, poison yellow and gleaming, on either side of them, hiding into the woods, laying in wait.

Trust me... Ready the horses — get the child. she decided, feeling gut-wrenching fear swell in her throat. There was no more time to lose: they had already been fighting for days now— she could not tell how many, a week? Mayhaps two. Time flowed differently here, in these woods, where nothing grew or lived but death itself and all its ancient rites and blood. She could sense the shift in the air as Eskel reached for the girl; she could almost taste it in her mouth, that boundless, endless darkness, calling to her, a vast, rippling whirlpool of strange, ancient forces that she could feel reaching for them, as though a knife to the throat. Something was stirring within her blood; reaching its claws and sinking into the body of her magic, that rippling, shimmering veil of Chaos from which she could draw the Force to cast her spells and magic.

A brilliant, powerful spark abruptly shot from her fingers, hand poised in the air like a claw, heat sent forth to crackle and rumble kinetically as she drew from the Force, gasping. Something was blocking the source of the power that was flowing like a stream throughout her veins, but she furiously cut right through it, crying out a spell.  The pendant upon her neck glowed a brilliant, blinding blue, its violent light reflecting in the violet of her eyes, now alight with seething, unbridled power.  Raven black curls flowed around her from the force of her spell, a display of a sorceress determined to get what she was after, enraged and in full power.  

The air around them hissed and rippled, burning furiously, as light began to slice the thick of the night, forming an irregular, flickering oval filled with an iridescent gleam. Something howled in the shadows, and the ground beneath their boots juddered and shook, the little hut upon the hill with it. She heard a window burst and explode from the forces thrumming all around them, heard the horses stomp their hooves violently upon the cold, hard ground, but she sustained the casting, gasping; she cast a brilliantly bright look back over at Eskel, said, now! I cannot hold it! as a malformed, warped portal swirled with fierce ferocity before them, drawing them on; there was something terribly twisted about it, contaminated; but Yennefer, intensely resolute and defiant, pressed on, drawing such vast, immense power from the Force that soon she was trembling under the immensity of its grasp upon her, summoning up every last ounce of it so that she could pierce the magical blockade and sustain the portal long enough for them to step through and out of this world made strange by whatever elusive dark magic was haunting the child.

Afterwards, there was a blinding light and a furious maelstrom, a blast which took her breath away and squeezed her ribs as they were suddenly sucked in with ferocious brutality and spat out onto the middle of a castle, crashing the tables pushed together in the middle of a grand hall where council was being held. Yennefer gasped and shot out her hand, crying out another spell and furiously transmuting the table beneath them into another portal for them to slip through and onwards. It all happened within seconds, a constant stream of boundless energy that sucked and drew them into its violent, swirling vortex. Bitter, frost cold darkness enveloped them, and they were spat out into the middle of a square.

Yennefer collapsed onto her knees, feeling her blood burn ice cold and frozen in her veins. She looked around her frantically, searching for the witcher and the girl. The village was eerily empty, the only sound greeting them, the far away chime of a bell as dawn broke over the skies.

They had at least escaped the woods, but the spell had devoured huge parts of her energy, leaving the sorceress numb and cold all over, her breathing quickened and shallow as she desperately tried to regain her strength so that she might stand.

Something was interfering with the natural currents of Chaos that flowed through the world around them; something was warping the channels through which the power of Elemental Planes permeated the material world, blocking the Force. Yennefer blinked at the child; even sank into slumber, the dark power within her was emanating forcibly. Could she be the cause of this?

She cast her gaze upwards, noticing the fierce, green light glowing ominously overhead,the same strange glow they had seen from the cabin, now dangerously closer. And yet it looked as though it was coming from somewhere far off and away into the distance, hanging over the Continent like a dark veil torn to shreds, pulsing, shimmering darkly. Yennefer stared at it then wordlessly met the witcher's gaze, a meaningful look passing between them despite the vicious ache pounding in her head, blurring her vision.

@wanderingwolfwitcher

Eskel's viper eyes remained trained on the shadowy Shriekers the dark magic had summoned... medallion humming wildly and bouncing against his armor... these were not the ordinary flesh and blood sort... but more like the Wraiths... and the past nights, he'd gotten used to fighting them... and already had years of experience doing so. He met them with rune encrusted silver sword and Signs alike, dancing among their ranks lashing out and striking them one by one, with the raven haired Sorceress pitching in now and again when she could with her own magic. His Yrden Signs ensnared some and blasted others with violet magical lightning, throwing them off to be cut down by his blade. When they fell screaming, their forms dissipated into shadow, and vanished altogether, one after another. Over it all Yennefer worked to keep the possessed child summoning them from escaping... her efforts getting more difficult from the sound of it. Picking up the pace as she requested, he slew the final Shriekers and watched their forms dissipate, the shadows retreating back out into the dark woods surrounding the cabin. With a breath, he spoke up, sheathing his silver sword again and muttering to himself.

"That's the last of the bastards... for now. Need to get the girl under control again..."

The Witcher made his way back to join the Sorceress on that note, medallion humming and buzzing the closer he drew to the girl, raising a hand and joining in on her magical outpouring... binding the girl in Yrden Signs again, casting a powerful Axii Sign to attempt to sooth her, and a Somne Sign to try to put her back to sleep. The Signs were losing some of their effectiveness on the possessed being, as the thing inside her grew stronger... but in combination with Yennefer's own magic, gradually began to do their job. The magic encased child sank back down to the floor slowly, closing her inky black eyes again... and before long was back to sleep, under control, the dark magic pouring from her receding again. Even so, it was close, too close... and the demon thing inside her probably knew that too, that it was close to achieving the inevitable, the longer the exorcism was put off, leaving it content to withdraw its hold, for the moment. Bide its time. Lowering his hand back down to his side, Eskel drew a breath where he knelt on the floor next to the girl, shaking his head, marred features looking back over the Sorceresses's way again with a grimace, deep voice speaking up to her again calmly.

"It's done. She's asleep, and they're gone, for now. Can't keep this up another night. This place is falling apart, will collapse in the next attack. If you have a plan to get out of here, and to Kaer Morhen for that exorcist, I'm all ears. Leaving on foot and horse don't seem to be working, at the moment."

@okruchlodu

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Fifty-Seven: The Whisper Beneath the Calm

You woke up before dawn. Not out of habit, not because of nightmares, not even because Zoro was snoring too close to your hammock again.

No— You woke up because the silence felt wrong.

The Sunny creaked softly under your feet as you padded onto the deck, a blanket still draped over your shoulders. The sky was still that deep pre-morning blue, stars dimming at the edges, the sea calm as glass.

No breeze. No sounds. No birds.

Just… quiet.

Too quiet.

You glanced over your shoulder—Robin was already seated under the awning, sipping tea, watching you with that ever-knowing calm. “You feel it too?” you asked.

She nodded. “It’s in the air. Like everything’s holding its breath.”

By the time the rest of the crew stirred and started heading into town for the day, you were on high alert. Zoro noticed immediately.

“You’re twitchy.”

“I’m prepared,” you said.

“You’re twitchy.”

Luffy skipped ahead with Chopper and Usopp, ready to explore the rest of the island. Sanji caught up with you, holding a small wrapped bundle.

“Breakfast, my paranoid hurricane,” he said sweetly. You took it. “Thanks. If we get ambushed, I’ll eat this mid-fight.”

He winked. “That’s the spirit.”

It started small.

The vendors didn’t meet your eyes today. The baker didn’t offer you samples. The kids that had skipped through the streets yesterday were gone.

And on the far end of the village, near the forest’s edge, you noticed a building—tall, stone, no windows. Not there yesterday.

You stopped cold. Zoro followed your gaze. “That’s new.”

You nodded slowly. “Told you this place had cult energy.”

Robin and Nami caught up, eyes narrowing at the structure.

“We should tread carefully,” Robin murmured. “There’s something buried here. Old stories. Old symbols.”

Usopp rejoined the group, panting. “Hey! Luffy found a weird tunnel behind a statue. He said he’s going in. Wanted me to tell you.”

You all froze.

Nami groaned. “Of course he did.”

Zoro drew a sword. “Let’s go get him before he triggers a curse or something.”

You adjusted your new jacket, cracked your neck, and smiled grimly.

“Alright, spooky island,” you muttered. “Let’s dance.”

The tunnel was damp and dark, lined with moss-covered stone and old, rusted lanterns that flickered to life as you entered—without fire. Magical. Ancient. Bad news.

Luffy’s voice echoed ahead. “GUYS! YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!”

You jogged ahead with the others, rounding a corner— And stopped.

In the center of a wide underground chamber, lit by eerie green light, stood a massive, ancient statue. A warrior. A guardian. Broken chains around its wrists. Its head lowered. Its eyes glowing.

Inscribed on the floor:

"Those who wake me, must prove their worth."

You stared at the glowing inscription. Then at the crew. Then at Luffy.

“…You touched it, didn’t you.”

Luffy grinned, rubbing the back of his head. “Yup!”

The floor began to shake. The statue began to move. Stone grinding against stone.

You sighed deeply. Threw your jacket to the side. Rolled your shoulders.

“Well. Good thing I’m back to full strength.”

Sanji lit a cigarette. Zoro grinned. Nami pulled out her staff. Robin flexed her fingers.

Luffy cracked his knuckles.

Let the proving begin.

The statue groaned to life like it had waited centuries for someone—anyone—to make a dumb decision. Which, unfortunately, meant it had been absolutely doomed the second the Straw Hat Pirates arrived.

Its glowing green eyes swept across your crew, stone arms lifting, fists larger than your entire torso. The ground trembled as it took a step forward— each footfall shaking the chamber, ancient dust spiraling into the air like breath from a monster.

Luffy bounced on his heels, grinning. “Big guy! Wanna fight?!”

Zoro unsheathed Wado. “Finally.”

You cracked your knuckles, stepping up beside them. “Okay. Let’s not destroy everything. Just the parts of it that want to kill us.”

Nami shot you a look. “That statue is entirely made of 'wants to kill us.'”

“Great,” you said. “Then I’ll punch it in the soul.”

The first swing came hard and fast. You dove forward, shoulder-checking Luffy out of the way (which earned a delighted "Wheeee!") just before a massive stone fist crashed into the floor where he’d been standing.

Zoro went in from the left, sword flashing. Sanji flew from the right, flames crackling from his heel. Robin summoned a dozen arms across the back wall, anchoring crumbling stone as the room shook. Nami conjured a flash of lightning overhead, blasting the statue’s shoulder.

You? You leapt directly onto its arm and ran up it like a track star on vengeance.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Usopp yelled.

You grinned. “Showing it what happens when you mess with someone who’s had to deal with shipping crates, cursed tea, and Zoro’s attitude all in one week!”

And then— You punched the statue in the face.

It staggered. Stone cracked. Its glowing eyes flickered.

Robin blinked up at you. “She’s doing it again.”

Sanji clapped. “She’s so graceful when she’s angry.”

Zoro muttered, “It’s not graceful. It’s stupidly effective.”

The statue split into two. Because of course it did.

Usopp screamed. “WHY DOES EVERYTHING WE TOUCH HAVE A PHASE TWO?!”

You landed between the two halves, cracking your neck. “Okay, fine. Two targets. Double the fun.”

Luffy joined you with a wide grin. “I get the big one on the right!”

“I don’t care which I get,” you said. “So long as it goes down loud.”

Zoro landed beside you, blades drawn. Sanji rolled in on the other side, fire flaring from his foot.

“Let’s make this quick,” Nami called, “before the whole cave collapses!”

Robin nodded. “Ten minutes. Tops.”

You all exchanged a look— one of shared madness, shared skill, and shared understanding:

Wreck first. Question everything later.

And then, the Straw Hats moved as one.

—--------

You stood in the rubble, panting, covered in dust, with one leg still on top of a fallen stone head. Zoro sat nearby with his swords resting beside him. Sanji handed you water like it was a post-battle ritual. Luffy was laughing, buried in broken chunks of statue like it was a playground.

Nami dusted herself off and glared. “So. Who woke the ancient death machine?”

Everyone slowly pointed to Luffy. Even Luffy.

Robin hummed as she walked the perimeter, brushing off glyphs and inspecting the shattered floor. “This wasn’t just a statue. It was a test—an ancient one. A trial meant to judge strength… and unity.”

You blinked. “Wait, so we passed?”

Robin smiled faintly. “Quite spectacularly.”

Usopp flopped into the dust. “I hate it here.”

You sat on the deck, finally clean, finally fed, wrapped in a towel as your hair dried in the sea breeze.

Zoro sat across from you, arms crossed. “You gonna stop jumping at cursed things now?”

“No.”

Sanji poured you tea. “Of course not. We’d be bored without it.”

You took a sip, eyes narrowing at him. “…Is this tea cursed?”

He looked offended. “What kind of monster do you think I am?”

You stared.

“Okay, okay, it’s not cursed. Just a little infused.”

“Sanji.”

“Fine, fine.” He held up his hands. “Completely normal. For once.”

You exhaled. Leaned back. The stars were bright. The crew was still intact. The island didn’t explode. And you were exactly where you belonged.

Tomorrow, you’d find new chaos. But tonight?

You just smiled. And let peace, for once, settle on your shoulders.