#skyward claim the stars

[electronicgalah]

Woo hoo! I’ve finally done some fanart of skyward! :D This didn’t really turn out the way I wanted, but I’ll post it anyway because yes.

[gracieelinn]

Cytoverse Shorts! Audio from Dragons: Race to the Edge

[ashtarels-archives]

Myths of the High Priestesses

- Headcanon Speculations -

The lore and legend of High Priestesses past have largely been lost to the ages; although scattered findings and enduring myths sweep away some of the dust from the buried tales of Elune’s chosen.

Haidene - Bearer of the Basin

Haidene was the first known chosen of Elune in all of the Kaldorei’s recorded history. It is said that she heard the Goddess’s true voice, and as a child no less.

An unsubstantiated legend tells that Haidene heard the will of the Goddess to make pilgrimage across Kalimdor and create the very first independent moonwell for the burgeoning Kaldorei to thrive across the continent, and that Haidene used the iconic basin as a vessel of safekeeping for the blessed waters of the Well of Eternity. Haidene supposedly experienced dire straits on this pilgrimage; she and her kin on the brink of fatal thirst. Haidene gathered what little of their water remained, enough to sustain her for far longer if she chose to drink from it alone. The others pleaded with Haidene to drink deep and preserve herself, for she was the very incarnation of the Goddess. In a selfless act of faith, she cast the basin skyward and beseeched Elune, that she would give herself in body and soul if only it were filled, so her people could live to see another moon, and press on to the bountiful lands ahead. It is said that for her benevolence, Haidene was granted the title of High Priestess by goddess and kin alike. It was on this night that Elune taught Haidene the sacred artisanry of the ever-flowing moonwell, the very same that still persists in her statues today. It is only rumored, but this moonwell could have been the one nestled in the heart of ancient Moonglade, having since flourished into Lake Elune’ara.

Tales that have only endured by way of oral tradition say that Haidene's blessed waters were shared in the first feast of Lahassa during the earliest epoch of the Kaldorei. There are even theories that the sacred Chalice of Elune may have belonged to Haidene, the relic permanently blessed from this momentous celebration made possible by Elune and the land’s combined bounty.

Elunarian archaeologists claim that Haidene may have established the temple in Desolace, known today as the Palace or Sanctuary of Elune. A place so ancient that its real name has been lost and blotted out by demonic desecration. Many of the relics recovered here are thematically linked to Haidene: The Cup of Elune as a relic of physical and spiritual cleansing, and Elune's Handmaiden as a relic of celebrating victory and sacrificial offering. The embers recovered here from Elune’s Brazier may have indeed been borne from an actual flame, or they could be remnants of Elune’s liquid fire; an apt medium for High Priestess Haidene.

Kalo'thera - Ascended of the Stars

Kalo’thera was the next known chosen of Elune, following Haidene. Her name evokes meanings along the lines of “stellar warrior.” Unfortunately, there are no known depictions of Kalo’thera's true likeness; although some choose to stylize her in darkling garbs and armor reminiscent of the new moon, due to purported ties to Elune’s Night Warrior aspect.

It is said that Kalo'thera “ascended to the stars” at the temple of old Hajiri, though these ancient words have not been elucidated further. None now live who remember seeing Kalo’thera’s ascension ritual with their own eyes, but there are a myriad proposed theories as to what this could have meant.

She may have fulfilled all of her earthly duties as wished by Elune, or proved herself an exemplar through astounding feats; and was rewarded with the status of demigoddess for her service as high priestess. Some believe that Kalo’thera now exists as a constellation in the realm of midnight from this divine act, perhaps other demigods and demigoddesses represented in this form as well.

She may have been slain in battle, “ascending to the stars” perhaps referring to her joining the Night Warrior’s embrace along with the other souls of the valiant dead riding across the night sky. The story of this ascension ritual might then be a widespread coverup by those who witnessed Kalo’thera’s true end.

She may have invoked the ritual of the Night Warrior, subsequently being torn apart in body by the wrath of the new moon. Ancient legends speak of the Night Warrior’s power being used as the driving force for carving out the Kaldorei Empire, Kalo’thera perhaps spearheading the expansion with this dark boon to wrest lands from the myriad world powers of the Pre-Sundering age.

Old myths describe a rare and lost regalia, called nightcloth, almost as if an opposing material to mooncloth. This was supposedly worn during the expansion era to better blend into the shadows of nightfall for battle, some claiming by Kalo’thera and the other Night Warrior witnesses. The exact origins and techniques of crafting nightcloth seem to have faded along with history; however, there are speculations that this fell out of favor within the Sisterhood due to the dangerous associated ritual that ended up slaying the invoking avatars, and even onlookers. Kalo’thera may have been the one to engrave the tablets of Bashal'aran describing the Night Warrior and the other aspects of Elune. There is a deep blue, nearly black, flame in the heart of the Ameth’aran ruins as well. Some Elunarian scholars theorize that perhaps its color owes to the Night Warrior’s midnight powers. This flame was later twisted by Athrikus Narassin using a moonstone seal to bind souls in a spiritual prison; curiously still, souls thought to be under the purview of the Night Warrior. Some say that Kalo’thera was the first to be granted knowledge of the Starshards spell by the Goddess, its namesake partially deriving from Kalo’thera. A superstition of the Sisterhood claims that it is Kalo’thera herself who now grants moonpriests this power, crystallizing pieces of starlight and raining them down from the midnight heavens to her earthbound descendants who call upon the aid of the stars.

Dejahna - Zenith of Conviction

Dejahna was the third known chosen of Elune, following Kalo’thera. She was the mentor and predecessor to Tyrande Whisperwind.

Those who braved the Tomb of Sargeras, once Dejahna’s primary temple in life, claim to have seen her incorporeal form. If her spirit is at all reflective of her appearance in life, then Dejahna preferred dark robes, with silver accents and blue gemstones. It may have been customary for a High Priestess to don specific garbs, as Tyrande replies to the news of her appointment to this position with, “I’ll become high priestess—at least until this war is over—but I will keep my present garments—” (Demon Soul, Ch. 17) Dejahna’s darkling robes could also be due to her presiding over the burial site in the depths of the temple, perhaps a ceremonial garb for rites involving the dead.

Some say that Dejahna’s harshness and austerity arose from Kalo’thera as her assumed mentor; others say that an influx of unfaithful Highborne attempting to join the Sisterhood as a last resort was seen as a mockery of the order. Dejahna supposedly then raised the standards of entry to rigorous heights, some dubbing her the Zenith of Conviction for her high expectations from novices.

Given Azshara’s growing distance from the faith, and attempts to eclipse Elune with devotion from her subjects, old rumors claim that Dejahna held a particular bitterness for the queen by the outbreak of the War of the Ancients. This may have been in part due to Azshara’s appointment of her own High Priestess: Siralen of Vashj’ir.

Dejahna’s temple hosted a handful of templars, perhaps this ancient version of a lunar paladin having once been a prestigious rank within the faith.

An ornate vial was recovered from the Cathedral of Eternal Night, whose glass was said to “bear the mark of Dejahna.” It is unclear what this mark truly is, but it could be that each High Priestess, or even priestesses as a whole, have personal sigils rooted in the Elunarian language similar to a common signature. This vial could have been her personal vessel of moonwater, or one of many that she bestowed blessings upon by way of this mark. Considering its name of "Eternal Moon,” this may refer to the blessing or enchantment on the vial lasting eternally or having a resilient quality to its magick; as it did survive the temple sinking to the bottom of the ocean, being raised again by Gul'dan, and being pillaged by demonic forces and adventurers alike.

The upper levels of Dejahna's temple contained the "Hanging Gardens," which were actually tended to by an ancient named Agronox before he fell to corruption. It could be that because this temple was the heart of night elven worship in the empire, an ancient's service in a temple was a rare sight; or, Agronox's existence here could mean that others of his kind served alongside Kaldorei priestesses in other parts of the Pre-Sundering world as well.

Dejahna fell in battle during the War of the Ancients, and named Tyrande as her successor to take the mantle. This is an interesting development, as it would seem like such a position is granted directly by Elune, as seen with Haidene. However, in Demon Soul, Marinda is sent to deliver the message of Tyrande’s succession: “‘Before her death, she named a successor…’ Tyrande nodded. This was to be expected. The new high priestess had, of course, immediately sent out messengers like Marinda to spread the word of her ascension.” This being “expected” implies that naming a successor was a traditional practice in passing on the mantle. Supposedly as Dejahna was dying, she “insisted that only her attendants would know.” (Ch. 17) This could just be referring to healers seeing to her wounds, or it could be that within the Sisterhood at this time, there may have been a specific rank for tending to the High Priestess; an interesting parallel to the handmaidens of Queen Azshara. Marinda also reveals “…that, normally, there would be a ceremony, a long entailed one that as many worshippers as possible would be invited to see.” Elunarian faithful from all over Kalimdor likely traveled great distances to see such a monumental event. This role in general also seemed heavily involved at the time, “leading this chant and that. The temple also held a blessing each evening for the rising of the moon and the good will of the gods. In addition, the leading nobles always had to have some sort of recognition ceremony for various anniversaries and other events…” (Ch. 17)

A final piece of High Priestess lore we learn from Marinda comes from the reasoning behind Dejahna’s choice: “She was of clear mind, sister. And you should understand, she had made mention of you before this. The senior sisters all understood that you were the one…and no one among them argued the decision.” (Ch. 17) This uncovers an interesting dynamic in the old Sisterhood then, that there was at least a dialogue among the senior sisters, if not a democratic process settled through debate around the next chosen High Priestess.

Siralen - The Contended

“Let this statue stand as an everlasting testament to High Priestess Siralen in the name of all she has done to nurture Quel'Dormir Temple into a glowing beacon of faith. May her newfound service under Queen Azshara herself shine as a testament to the potential of the noble birth nurtured in our beloved, Vashj'ir.”

The case of Siralen is a strange one, as she was not passed this mantle from a High Priestess within the Sisterhood – as was tradition. She was instead granted this title by Queen Azshara, supposedly for strengthening the faith of Quel’dormir Temple in the royal city of Vashj’ir. It is interesting to speculate how priestesses across Kalimdor reacted to this decision: whether they saw it to be just as divine an act as being appointed by Elune herself or a current High Priestess, or if they disagreed with a bestowal that strayed so far from the role’s sacred history. Many of Azshara’s epithets insinuate that she was viewed favorably in tandem with the goddess, such as Daughter of the Moon, Flower of the Moon, and Radiance of the Moon. Although, others lean towards eclipsing Elune’s worship, like Light of a Thousand Moons, for example. In any case, the appointment of Siralen then introduces the question of authority, and whether the High Priestess of the Sisterhood was considered of higher, lower, or equal status.

Noteworthy still that her service is “under Queen Azshara herself,” and it could be that this nurtured faith was actually to the Queen, as Elune is conspicuously not mentioned anywhere in this engraving. It also reads, “a testament to the potential of the noble birth nurtured in our beloved, Vashj’ir,” perhaps alluding to a growing and more obvious class divide between the highborne and common Kaldorei; or at least the boundless arrogance of the highborne caste.

[moonlit-midnight]

Charmed and fascinated by you

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge.

Genre: AU, Urban Fantasy, Implied Romance.

Warnings: GN!Reader, self indulgent and inspired by an old fic that I wrote years ago, so excuse the slightly weird writing.

—

Lilia’s striking red eyes met yours as he leaned back against the balcony railing.

His long hair was unbound and disheveled, blowing wildly in the wind. It was a captivating sight to behold, a mess of raven black, dark blue and amaranth red.

Under the night sky, lit up with thousands of luminous stars he looked more inhuman than the first time you met him a few months ago.

Lilia was stunning, an absolute beauty, like the way a thunderstorm is when it strikes the dark skies.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” He broke the silence, his deep voice snapping you out of your trance. 

“You don’t seem like someone I should take lightly, but I’m not afraid of you.” you paused, shifting your gaze skywards before carrying on in a deliberate tone. “I’ve encountered creatures who’re far more dangerous than the fair folk, so I have no reason to fear you.”

And God knows I’m drawn to what’s strangely fascinating and unworldly.

Lilia stepped towards you, giving you a little bemused look.  “But I’m not a kind soul like you perceive me.”

“Nonsense!” you murmured, cheeks slightly tinted red as you stared at him. “You certainly are a good person.”

“When I trespassed in your realm months ago, you helped me escape when I got caught.” you took Lilia’s right hand in yours. It was cold as frozen iron, but you didn’t flinch at all. “You could’ve just left me there, but you held my hand and took me somewhere safe.”

“Goodness!” Lilia let out a soft chuckle, his eyes still steadily fixed on you, glinting in sheer amusement. “You’re either a brave soul like you claim to be or simply a peculiar human who holds a lifelong fascination with the denizens of the otherworld.”

Then he smiled at you for the first time, truly smiled, a smile as lovely as his name and no doubt the most hauntingly beautiful sight you ever gazed upon.

[sculptorofcrimson]

Tyrant’s Lullaby

Once upon a time, there was a glorious, terrible man. He built horrors. He built wonders. He brought monsters up from the deep. He took a child from the arms of a horrified, weeping family, and raised him not as a boy but as a general. He took a child and ruined his future, He took a child and made him a king, a pet, a dog. He marched armies over the face of the ravaged earth, and trampled all that did not kneel before the weight of the storm. He burned tundras to ash and shook the mountains until they crumbled, He boiled the seas to mist and the skies to charcoal. And when the scouring was done, and the earth was entombed in ashes, He turned His dreaming, endless glare upon His own. 

He strangled the thunder that had bore Him a throne, He sent the golden, the children stolen from their cradles, to plunge down long knives into turned backs raised so fervently before His regard. With their blood they had built Him a kingdom, and with their bones He crowned Himself a throne. And when Terra knelt, cowed, battered, in awe and in fear, He turned His gaze skywards.

And the stars felt His benevolent wrath. 

He bore twenty sons, two of them sacrificed, and He unleashed them upon the earth, the skies, the stars. They hunted for Him, they loved Him, they adored Him, yet some had strayed too far from His light, some had gazed upon the man that would be a god with sullen, hungry eyes, doing His bidding, and knowing His wrath. They are those who were there when affection curdled to treachery.

There was no peace among the stars, no mercy, no rest, simply a slow, heartless drowning as the gold claimed them limb by limb, inch by inch, and swallowed them into the endless light. 

And then war. Treachery, when the stars themselves were swallowed. When brother turned against brother, and father against son. When the Phoenix cleaved the Gorgon’s head from his shoulders, and the Immortal bashed in the Haunter with a hammer, when the Angel fell to the Traitor and He stained the Palace’s stones red with His son’s blood. When Horus burned, when the Angel shed his wings and the golden were shattered upon the anvil of betrayal, the Father fell to His son. 

He was buried upon a rotting throne, screaming hollowly into the fading dark, the stars basking in His rage, His pity and His wrath. He was buried alive in a tomb made from gold, ashen bones ruling a decaying kingdom from the grave, dreaming forever of brighter days. Dreaming of His sons, and how He betrayed them first, how they betrayed Him, how they abandoned His bones. And finally could the golden rest, bathed in the heart of their greatest shame, enshrining the decaying dust of a master they had failed, in an empire He had forsaken. 

That man was the Emperor. That corpse is the Emperor, golden, glorious, and decaying just like the slaves.

Do not think your bones different from a slave's. When you rot, your corpse will be indistinguishable from those of your servants.

[wizard-finix]

Star Wars AU: Sky's home world

So Skyward Sword's setting is very unique with how Sky literally lives on an island in the sky, so for this AU I decided to make his homeworld a gas giant! Kind of like Cloud City on Bespin, except Skyloft is naturally occurring and not a manmade structure.

Most people living on this planet live on the floating islands at the top layer of its cloudy atmosphere, where visibility is clear. The locals travel between islands and through the clouds via loftwing mounts. The cloudy atmosphere on this planet goes very deep, and lots of flying creatures native to this world live on the uninhabited islands deeper down. There are also old ruins on a few of these islands, but they're difficult to locate due to low visibility, atmospheric interference, and island movements.

(Fun fact: Levias can be spotted in the deepest layers just above the cloud barrier, but very few people ever get the chance to)

The atmosphere gets more dangerous the closer you get to the surface. Monsters get more frequent and more dangerous further down, and the lowest layers of the atmosphere are extremely volatile and stormy, to the point where even the sturdiest ships can't really get through it without crashing.

No one in living memory has ever seen the surface and there aren't any surviving records, but there are local legends of something hidden on the planet's surface. The presence of this "cloud barrier" and the unique phenomenon of floating islands only seem to strengthen the validity of these claims.

When Sky finally finds a way through the cloud barrier and flies down to the surface to look for Sun, he finds an ancient abandoned temple, far older than any existing records.

[acourtofthought]

242 Reasons Why Lucien is the GOAT of the ACOTAR Series

“I’m Lucien. Courtier and emissary.” He gestured to me with a flourish. “Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold.”

Lucien smirked. “Apologies, Feyre.”

I finally found Lucien astride a black gelding, grinning down at me with too-white teeth.

“I admire your balls, Feyre—I really do. Or maybe it’s stupidity

“A valiant effort,” Lucien said with a smirk.

Lucien snorted but didn’t say anything else

“I might die of surprise,” Lucien said behind me. “You made a joke, Feyre.”

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle’s contents and chuckling with a muttered “Brushed.”

Lucien remained sitting on the blanket and lifted the bottle of wine in salute. He took a slug from it as he sprawled on his back and gazed at the green canopy.

He sighed, looking skyward before he studied me warily, that metal eye narrowing with unnerving focus.

I wondered—wondered if being emissary also meant being spymaster.

“I didn’t keep my mouth shut when I should have, and was punished for it.”

“Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn’t. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day.”

He winced. “Shit, Feyre—I’m not that old.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons.”

“Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

Lucien sighed as he looked me over. “Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?”. “Do you ever stop being such a prick?” I snapped back. But Lucien grinned at me. “Much better.”

The face of Tamlin’s emissary—more court-trained and calculating than I’d seen him yet.

In lieu of a pretty breakfast table by the window, a worn worktable dominated the space, covered in various weapons.

It was there he sat, wearing only a white shirt and trousers, his red hair unbound and gleaming like liquid fire. Tamlin’s court-trained emissary, but a warrior in his own right.

“I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border—official emissary business,” he said, setting down the hunting knife he’d been cleaning, a long, vicious blade.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, smiling with feline delight.

Lucien never cared about it, never expected to be crowned High Lord, so he spent his youth doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t: wandering the courts, making friends with the sons of other High Lords”—

he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people.

Lucien told her to go back to the shit-hole she’d crawled out of. She took his eye as punishment.

The metal eye narrowed on me while the other remained wary, unimpressed. “Yes?”

The look he gave me was more contemplative than any he’d given me before. “I know far too many High Fae and lesser faeries who wouldn’t have seen it that way—or bothered.”

He reached for something at his side and tossed it to me. I had to fight to stay in the saddle as I fumbled for it—a jeweled hunting knife. / I’d never held one so finely crafted, so perfectly balanced.

“Burn in Hell,” Lucien replied for Tamlin.

“Idiot!” he yelled at me, then glanced behind him toward where the other faeries stared. “Useless human fool.” Without further word, he slung me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes.

I found that he was running—fast. Faster than anything should be able to move.

I could have sworn that Lucien was sleeping upright, fork in hand.

Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright.

“Faerie pig!” I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

Lucien, claiming that he had miserable emissary business to attend to,

Lucien, mercifully, appeared like Lucien. I didn’t ask whether that was because Tamlin had informed him to put up a better glamour or because he didn’t bother trying to be something he wasn’t.

“I see,” I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it

He used the dagger to clean his nails. “I’ve been busy. So have you, I take it.”

Lucien climbed the statue to remove the head.

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. “She looks positively Fae.”

“Unfortunately for you and your neck,” Lucien countered, “tonight’s just a party.” “Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?” Lucien winked at me.

“So there’s singing and dancing and excessive drinking,” Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. “And dallying,” he added with a wicked grin.

“Remember the last time you ignored my warning?” He poked me in the neck, and I batted his hand away.

“I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself,” I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I’d had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick—enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool.

His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge.

“Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered,

“Idiot,” he said when he looked at my face. “Drunken idiot.”

I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me. “I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said

Lucien lead me to the window, where he pushed me against the velvet drapes. / The tang of magic shoved itself up my nostrils. Though his sword was pointed at the floor, Lucien’s grip tightened on it until his knuckles turned white. Magic—a glamour. To conceal me, to make me a part of Lucien—invisible, hidden by the faerie’s magic and scent.

Lucien pointed his sword at Rhysand. “Watch your filthy mouth.”

Lucien spat at Rhysand’s feet and shoved his sword between us.

“You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leeched from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground.

Lucien stared him down for a moment, spat on the ground, and stormed up the stairs.

“Well, at least we don’t have to lie to you anymore. Let’s clean you up a bit.”

“Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” He smirked at me.

“Her name, Emissary?” Amarantha asked of Lucien. But Lucien only glanced at Tamlin before closing his eyes and squaring his shoulders.

“I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue.” Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready—he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self, into dust.

Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien’s—bellowed across the chamber. “TO YOUR LEFT!”

She listened, of course—but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien’s punishment. Twenty lashes.”

He unclasped his cloak and set it around my shoulders.

“It’s why I couldn’t come sooner,” he said, his throat bobbing. “She used her—used our powers to keep my back from healing. I haven’t been able to move until today.”

The brutally scarred face beneath was still handsome—his features sharp and elegant.

“Tam!” Lucien cried over the chaos. A sword hurtled through the air, a shooting star of steel.

Lucien hunted down five naga yesterday.”

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

Last week, I’d finally asked him if she’d set her sights on him, and Lucien had merely given me a look, snarling softly, before stalking off

the right hand of a High Lord and another High Lord’s son.

“I didn’t lie,” Lucien said tightly. “I technically did fall off my horse.” He patted his mount’s flank. “After one of them tackled me off her.”

I am the first one the others look to—I set the example.

“I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.”

“Please,” Lucien said, bowing his head gracefully. “The effort to rebuild is our burden to share. It would be our honor.”

He assured me that he hated the gatherings as much as I did, and that Lucien was the only one who really enjoyed himself,

Lucien intervened calmly, “I already have my sources looking into it.”

Lucien sighed a bit and said to Tamlin, “If we perhaps trained her in secret—”

Lucien muttered something that sounded like a plea to the Cauldron.

Lucien took a deep breath that sounded a lot like: “Here we go.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “She meant no harm, Tam.”/ Lucien held his gaze. “Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.”

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless—

“How long have the claws been appearing?” he said softly. "There's only so much I can do,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ll ask him tonight. About the training. The powers will manifest whether we train you or not, no matter who is around. I’ll ask him tonight,” he repeated.

They will hunt her, and kill her, Ianthe had hissed at Lucien. Lucien had growled back, They’ll do it anyway, so what’s the difference?

We are not assassins, Lucien had cut in. Rhys is what he is, but who would take his place—. Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance...

His red hair was tied back, and there wasn’t a hint of finery on him: just armored leather, swords, knives

Lucien, beside Tamlin, again put a hand on his sword. “Stop this.”

“That is enough.” Lucien surged for Elain, for the Cauldron.

Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, “Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints.

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain.

“She is no such thing,” she said, and shoved him again. Lucien didn’t move an inch.

Perhaps you’ll get a handsome Fae lord as your mate, too.”

Lucien’s answering growl was nothing short of feral.

Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place.

But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.

His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again.

It was Lucien who answered, studying my painting as if it held the proof I knew he was searching for.

Lucien remained leaning against the door across from mine. His room. I didn’t doubt he’d ensured I now stayed across from him. Didn’t doubt that the metal eye he possessed was always turned toward my own chambers, even while he slept.

“She’s going to spin a story that you’ll want to hear,” Lucien warned. / Lucien halted me with a hand around my elbow. “You’re smarter than that.” I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow.

Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” / “Tell me anyway. List all of them.”. “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.”

Lucien only nodded. But I felt his gaze on my back, fixed right on my spine, as I headed downstairs

Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.”

Lucien seemed to be trying very, very hard not to roll his eyes.

I could practically feel the snide remark simmering in Lucien.

“My emissary knows the wall as well as any sentry.”

“I have an old friend at the Dawn Court. She’s skilled at tinkering—blending magic and machinery. Tamlin got her to craft it for me at great risk.”

I was fairly certain that only centuries of training kept Lucien from leaping over the table to rip out Jurian’s throat.

“The gap in the wall is right up here,” Lucien was saying, sounding about as thrilled as me to be in such company.

Brannagh studied how closely I stood to Lucien; how he shifted slightly to shield me, too.

Lucien sat against a nearby tree, folding one booted ankle over another. “Whatever you’re planning, it’ll land us knee-deep in shit.”

“I would have been a part of the human-Fae alliance.”

“I did it for you, too, you know.” Cold, hard words. “I went with him to get you back.”

But the only trace of you was that ring, melted between the stones of the parlor. I got rid of it a moment before Tam arrived home to see it.”

“This situation is terrible,” I said, and it was the truth. A low snort.

And despite Jurian, despite the sneering royals, a corner of Lucien’s mouth tugged upward.

I gave Lucien a subtle, pleading look, and he barely hid his smirk as he sauntered over to me. Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse.

Ever the courtier, he bowed back.

He flat-out refused to participate. I replaced him in the Rite, but …” I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court.

I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it. Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

I kept close to Lucien, who was inclined to indulge me.

Lucien answered on the second knock. “I heard you—what’s wrong.” He scanned me, russet eye wide as he noted my disheveled hair, my sweaty nightgown. / I swallowed, a silent question on my face, and he nodded, retreating into the room to let me inside. Bare from the waist up, he’d managed to haul on a pair of pants before opening the door, and hastily buttoned them as I strode past.

“What did you dream of tonight?” he asked quietly./ Lucien rose, stalking to me. / Lucien paused half a foot from me. He didn’t so much as object as I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm, bare chest. / Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.” He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back

His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight.

His silence was heavy—sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. “I’m sorry,” he said

It’s why we avoid bargains unless it’s necessary: even the scholars at the Day Court don’t know how it works. Believe me, I’ve asked.” “For me—you asked them for me.”. “Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I—we didn’t want to give you false hope. And we didn’t dare let Rhysand get wind of what we were doing, in case he found a way to interfere. To stop it.”

“You didn’t stop him.” “I tried. I begged him for mercy. He didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen.”

“Even if they’re now our allies,” I mumbled, “I still hate them.” A snort. “Me too.”

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”

Then at us, their eyes widening further as they noted Lucien’s cruel beauty.

Lucien stared him down. “We accept no tribute from the human lands. Least of all children.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, well aware that Lucien carefully watched from the shade of a nearby oak.

Lucien had gone to the stream to get more water

Lucien woke me the next morning with a hand over my mouth, warning gleaming in his russet eye. I smelled it a moment later: the coppery tang of blood. / Lucien slid from the tent, limbs loose and ready to shift into a defensive position. He’d been trained, he once told me—at the Autumn Court and at this one. Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles, but I’d seen him and Tamlin in the practice ring. He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

Lucien laid his own cloak across the remains of the two young women.

“They are our allies,” he growled at me, at Lucien, both of us seated in armchairs flanking the mantel. / “And you should have left it alone for me to deal with.” Tamlin heaved a jagged breath. “Not retaliated like children.” He threw a glare in Lucien’s direction. “I expected better from you.” / “You sent the Bogge after them!” Tamlin roared. /Lucien had tracked it down—and we’d lured it, carefully, over hours, back to that camp. Right to where Dagdan and Brannagh had been gloating over their kill. / Lucien cleared his throat. Stood as well. “Tam—those humans were barely more than children. Feyre gave the royals an order to stand down. They ignored it. If we let Hybern walk all over us, we stand to lose more than their alliance. The Bogge reminded them that we aren’t without our claws, too.”

He exploded. Furniture splintered and went flying, windows cracked and shattered. / My knees slammed into the carpeted floor, and Tamlin was instantly in front of me, hands shaking— The doors burst open. “What have you done,” Lucien breathed, and Tamlin’s face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside. He let Lucien shove him aside and help me stand. / “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Lucien said, an arm around my shoulders as he eased me from the room.

the broad panes of his chest, his stomach.

But Lucien was there. Her focus wholly on me, on taking from me the beauty I’d burned from her, Brannagh did not see him winnow until it was too late. Until Lucien’s sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone.

“I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.”

“I know a place,” Lucien said, walking toward the cave that would take us to his home.

I let Lucien lead the way,

“It doesn’t lead anywhere. It curves away in the back—it’ll keep us out of sight.” I let him go inside first nonetheless.

Flint struck, and I found myself gazing at a makeshift camp of sorts. The candle Lucien had ignited sat on a natural stone ledge, and on the floor nearby lay three bedrolls and old blankets, crusted with leaves and cobwebs. A little fire pit lay in the sloped center of the space, the ceiling above it charred. No one had been here in months. Years. “I used to stay here while hunting. Before—I left,” he said,

“It’s too risky to eat,” I admitted, evading his question. Lucien was having none of it. “I knew. I knew you were lying the moment you unleashed that light in Hybern. My friend at the Dawn Court has the same power—her light is identical. And it does not do whatever horseshit you lied about it doing.”

His eye seemed to simmer. As if being in his own lands set that molten ore inside him rising to the surface, even with the damper on his power. “Glad to see the mask is off, at least.”

“You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?”

His woods, by blood and law. He was a son of this forest, and here … He looked crafted from it. For it. Even that gold eye.

he waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands. He’d tied his hair up, a few strands of it falling into his face as he swooped down again and threw a second trout onto the sandy bank where I’d been trying to find a substitute for fishing twine. / Lucien picked them up by their tails, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He might very well have, right here in this stream. “I’ll clean them while you start the fire.” I

“As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.” He eased to his feet with a groan, his unbound hair glimmering as the midday sun overhead set the blood and wine hues aglow. “I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.” A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

of all the sounds that Lucien so carefully sorted through while he kept watch.

he removed his cloak and added it over my blanket.

“Father,” the one now holding a knife to my throat said to Lucien, “is rather put out that you didn’t stop by to say hello.” “We’re on an errand and can’t be delayed,” Lucien answered smoothly, mastering himself.

he saw the sweat beading on my temple, my upper lip, as my blood heated. A slight bob of his chin was his only sign of understanding.

“Run,” I gasped out, but Lucien was already at my side, a steadying hand under my arm as I burned that flame hotter and hotter. It wouldn’t keep them contained for long, and I could indeed feel someone’s power rising to challenge mine. But there was another force to wield. Lucien understood the same moment I did. Sweat simmered on Lucien’s brow as a pulse of flame-licked power slammed into the stones just above us. Dust and debris rained down. I threw any trickle of magic into Lucien’s next blow. His next. / Lucien and I brought down the cave ceiling.

I’d been wearing my cloak, but … he’d indeed given me his. He shivered against the cold as we dragged and clawed our way up the mountain slope, and did not dare stop.

“Tell me about her—about Elain,” Lucien said quietly.

“And then I’ll ask your mate how he survived it—knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male’s bed.”

“You left us.” Us. Not Tamlin. Us. The words echoed into the dark,

"You fit into the Spring Court as little as I did, Lucien. You enjoyed its pleasures and diversions. But don’t pretend you weren’t made for something more than that.”

“Run,” Lucien breathed. / “Faster,” Lucien ordered. “Don’t look!” he barked as I began to turn my head to see if they’d followed. He lashed out a hand to grip my elbow, steadying me before I could even register that I’d stumbled. / “Zag,” Lucien panted. “We need to—” He shoved me aside, and I staggered, arms wheeling. Just as an arrow ricocheted off the ice where I’d been standing. “Faster,” Lucien snapped, and I didn’t hesitate.

Behind him, cut off by his brothers, Lucien had drawn his own knife and now sized up the other two.

I think Lucien shouted my name.

“Which one?” I asked carefully. Mor swept her attention over Lucien once more. I almost pitied Lucien for the weight in her gaze, the utter judgment. The stare of the Morrigan—whose gift was pure truth. Whatever she beheld in Lucien was enough for her to say, “The town house. You have someone waiting there for you.”

Lucien survey our surroundings.

But their watchful silence was indication enough: let him decide his own fate. At last, Lucien looked at me. At us. He said, “There are children laughing in the streets.” I blinked. He said it with such … quiet surprise. As if he hadn’t heard the sound in a long, long time.

“I see you brought home a new pet,” she said, nose crinkling with distaste. / Before I could introduce him, Lucien bowed at the waist. Deeply / Amren smiled slightly. “Already trained, I see.”

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death. The painting flashed into my mind.

Lucien only shifted on his feet. Wary. Considering. I counted the heartbeats, debating how much I’d interfere if he said something truly stupid, when he at last murmured, “There is a longer story to be told, it seems.” Smart answer.

Lucien weighed my offer—and the three males monitoring his every blink and breath. He only nodded. Another wise decision.

“And you love him. And he—he truly does love you.” Lucien dragged a hand through his red hair. “And all these people I have spent my centuries hating, even fearing … They are your family.”

And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

But Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.

“I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words.

We were almost to the door, Cassian already in the hall, when Lucien said to me, “Thank you.” I didn’t dare ask him for what.

"set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn"

“What did you do with yourself this afternoon?” “Slept,” he said. “Washed. Sat on my ass.”

His face was indeed controlled, but—a hint of surprise twinkled there. Wariness, too, but … surprise.

Lucien, standing near the windows and watching the sun set over Velaris, was wearing a fine green jacket embroidered with gold, his cream-colored pants showing off muscled thighs, and his knee-high black boots polished enough that the chandeliers of faelight reflected off them. He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

Lucien considered. “Can I offer my unsolicited advice?” / Lucien studied my mate, then me. “I assume Feyre is going.” / “Are you planning to hide her powers?” / Lucien studied me again, and it was an effort not to squirm. “My father would likely join with Hybern if he thought he stood a chance of getting his power back that way—by killing you.” / Lucien jerked his chin to Azriel. “That’s the information you need to gather. What my father knows—if my brothers realized what she was doing. You need to start from there, and build your plan for this meeting accordingly.”

Rhys swirled his wine once, set it down, and said to Lucien, “You and Azriel should talk. Tomorrow.” Lucien glanced toward the shadowsinger—who only nodded at him. “I’m at your disposal.”

He added to Lucien, who did not balk from those writhing shadows, “After lunch, we’ll meet.

“You trust Lucien.” Rhys angled his head at the not-quite question. “I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes … His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.”

“He’s not a bad person—he’s not evil.” “He certainly isn’t.”

Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand? The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn’t dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn’t yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough. Touch her, smell her, taste her— The instincts were a running river. He fisted his hands at his sides.

Azriel seemed like a decent enough male

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. This entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta’s vacated one. “There’s a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?”

he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn’s coat.

“I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” And a whole lot of nothing. He’d told the shadowsinger all he knew—of his surviving brothers, of his father. His mother … he’d kept some details, irrelevant and utterly personal, to himself. Everything else—his father’s closest allies, the most conniving courtiers and lords … He’d handed it over. Granted, it was dated by a few centuries, but in his time as emissary, from the information he’d gathered, not much had changed. They’d all acted the same Under the Mountain, anyway. And after what had happened with his brothers a few days ago … There was no tinge of guilt when he told Azriel what he knew. None of what he felt when he looked toward the south—toward both of the courts he’d called home.

He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who’d claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

He paused right between them and said to me, to Nesta, “She needs fresh air.” / “We’ll judge what she needs.” I could have sworn his ruby hair gleamed like molten metal as his temper rose. But it faded, his russet eye fixing on me. “Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.” Then he walked away.

“Mother above,” Lucien said, dragging a hand through his hair.

Lucien had offered to make himself useful while we were gone by reading through some of the texts now piled on the tables throughout the sitting room.

But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

It wasn’t just about what he thought—it was the … feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And … sorrow. Longing

Cassian had come off the roof at some point to join Lucien in the sitting room, the books from the wall spread on the low-lying table between them

It felt like days ago. I rested my head against the embroidered back of the chair and watched Lucien take a seat on the rolled arm of the nearest couch. “Long day?” I grunted my response.

He weighed my tone, and crossed his arms. “Let me do something. About Elain. I heard—from my room. Everything that happened just now. It wouldn’t hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally.” I was tired enough that I could barely summon the breath to ask, “Do you think the Cauldron made her insane?” “I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.”

“Please tell me,” Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. “What the healer says. And if—if you need me for anything.”

Madja didn’t deign to answer Nesta until we were at the bottom of the steps. Lucien was already waiting in the sitting room, Mor still lingering in the dining room. Both of them rose to their feet.

Lucien muttered something about not needing to be monitored, and we all looked at him with raised brows. He just lifted his hands, claimed he wanted to freshen up, and headed down the hall.

The sound seemed to startle Elain, who swiftly set down her teacup. She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” “It—it was a tug. On the bond.” / Then Nesta was standing in the threshold. “What did you do.” The words were as sharp as a blade. Lucien looked to her, then over to me. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.” Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.”

“And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek.

Lucien’s attention slid behind me, to the various letters on different styles and makes of paper. That golden eye narrowed. As Tamlin’s emissary, he no doubt recognized them. “Let me guess: they said yes, but picking the location is now going to be the headache.” Mor frowned. “Any suggestions?” Lucien tied back his hair with a strap of brown leather. “Do you have a map?”

Lucien had indeed given us an initial location, and several more when those were struck down. But that was to be expected, Lucien had said, as if he’d arranged such things countless times. Rhys had only nodded in agreement—and approval.

Especially since Lucien had left before breakfast for a library across the city to look up anything in regard to fixing the wall, a task I’d been more than willing to hand over. I might have felt guilty for never giving him a proper tour of Velaris, but … he seemed eager. More than eager—he seemed to be itching to head into the city on his own.

Lucien, stationed by the front window, turned from watching the street. Monitoring it. A sword and dagger hung from his belt. No humor, no warmth graced his face—only fierce, grim determination.

“I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. We all looked at him. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.” / “What makes you think you could find her?” Rhys asked. Not rudely, but—from a commander’s perspective. Sizing up the skills Lucien offered against the risks, the potential benefits. “This eye …” Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. “It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.” He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. “I’m not needed here. I’ll fight if you need me to, but …” He offered me a grim smile. “I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I’m willing to bet I’m no longer welcome at h—the Spring Court.” Home, he had almost said. “But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies—there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can … bring help.” / “You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—” “I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.” My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

Lucien had indeed been studying all those maps lately. Perhaps at the quiet behest of whatever force had guided us all. My mate added, “Thank you.” Lucien shrugged. And it was that gesture alone that made me say at last, “Are you sure?” He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions. “Yes. Let me help in whatever way I can.”

I asked Lucien, “When do you want to leave?” “Tomorrow.” I hadn’t heard him sound so assertive in … a long time. “I’ll prepare for the rest of today, and leave after breakfast tomorrow morning.” He added to Rhys, “If that works for you.”

Cassian had given him free rein yesterday afternoon to loot his personal cache of weapons, though my friend had been economical about which ones he’d selected. The blade, plus a short sword, plus an assortment of daggers. A quiver of arrows and an unstrung bow were tied to his pack.

“You know precisely where you want Rhys to take you?” I asked at last. Lucien nodded, glancing to where my mate now waited by the front door. He’d bring Lucien to the edge of the human continent—to wherever Lucien had decided would be the best landing spot. No farther, Azriel had insisted. His reports indicated it was too watched, too dangerous. Even for one of our own. Even for the most powerful High Lord in history.

“It was time,” Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. “For me to do something.”

Rhys extended a hand to Lucien. Lucien studied it—then my mate’s face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they’d spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien’s own. But Lucien took Rhys’s hand. That silent offer of not only transportation.

Their gazes locked and held. / Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.

“I—heard the rumors and assumed Lucien Vanserra would be residing there after … what happened.” She still didn’t look at Tamlin, who remained silent and brooding. “I managed to contact him a few days ago—asked him to send samples. He did—and did not tell you,” she added quickly to Rhysand, “because he did not want to raise your hopes. Not until I’d found a solution.” No wonder he’d been so eager to head alone into Velaris that day he’d gone to help us research. I shot a look at Rhys. Seems like Lucien can still play the fox. Rhys didn’t look at me, though his lips twitched as he replied, Indeed.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him. His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir.

“Lucien,” I breathed. “Who?” Drakon’s brows narrowed. “Oh, the male with the eye. No. He met up with them later on—told them where to go. To come now, actually. So pushy, you Prythian males.

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he’d run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain’s hands.

“Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.” A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips. But Lucien noticed that scorched patch of grass behind us and said, “I heard—what happened. I’m sorry for your loss. All of you.”

“I’ve got one hell of a story to tell you,” he said, squeezing me tightly. “And don’t be surprised if Vassa corners you as soon as the ships are sorted. And the sun sets.” “Is she really—” “Yes. But your father, ever the negotiator …” / “The human queens are still out there,” I said. Maybe I’d hunt them down. “Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.” I nudged him in the ribs. But Lucien again looked at that singed grass, and his blood-splattered face turned solemn. “He was a good man,” he said. “He loved you all very much.”

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

I said to him, “So where now? Off with Vassa?” I wondered if he’d heard of Tamlin’s role—the help he’d given us. A look at my friend showed me he had. Someone, perhaps my mate, had informed him. Lucien shrugged. “First—here. To help. Then …” Another glance at Elain. “Who knows?” I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, “You could come to Velaris.” He saw all of it, but nodded graciously. “It would be my pleasure.”

Tamlin just shook his head, loathing simmering in his green eyes, and walked past. Not a word. I looked at Lucien in time to see the guilt, the devastation, flicker in that russet eye.

But Lucien remained standing with us as Tamlin found his place in the sitting room to our right. Did not glance at his friend even once. Lucien wasn’t foolish enough to beg for forgiveness.

I didn’t dare look through the ruined doorway to where Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain’s side

Lucien had remained behind to help with any of the human wounded still needing Fae healing

Another tidbit that Lucien had told us.

Send Lucien then. As our human emissary.

"Where's our dear friend Lucien?" "Off hunting for dinner."

"You brought presents". "It's Solstice tradition here, but isn't it?"

An uncontrollable instinct - for a male to eliminate any threat. But he remained sitting. Even as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair

Somehow in living with Jurian and Vassa in the manor, he'd run into Elain's former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

The corded muscle of his forearm shifted beneath the fine silk of his sapphire jacket.

"He is a good male", I repeated.

He raised his fist to the door, but the wooden slab pulled away before he could touch it. Lucien’s scarred, handsome face appeared, his golden eye whirring. “I thought I sensed someone else arriving.”

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

“Easy,” Lucien said. Cassian snarled. “Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing.

[itsrheasgirl]

AN UNEXPECTED GUEST - PART 7

Chapter 2 for Forbidden Love series. The Forbidden Love series follows a relationship between Rhea x Reader.

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The Reader has a strong friendship with Liv Morgan.

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Liv is in love with The Reader but hasn’t told them.

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fem!reader - rhea x reader.

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@rheasbaee @riverscyberwife @you-got-me-star-lost-16 @innagnv @bittersweetastoria @chillinbri @call-me-a-simp @sithfar @rooskaya-yelena @half-of-a-gay @teenagedramaqueenlisa @hit-the-dirt-and-get-back-on @bl0w-m3 @l0v3e1i @heartcandles-co

•

The frothy mountain of bubbles peaked over the ledge on the bathtub as your leant forward to turn off the tap, gently spinning on your heels to face the main room as you searched for Rhea. Your soft gaze finding hers as she sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her palms as she took in every inch of your body. Her gaze wondering from the tip of your toes and all the way up until her sapphire hues meet your gaze.

The corner of her lips twitched into an impish smirk as she glanced around your form towards the large bathtub, flitting her gaze back up to yours in a quick back and forth.

“It was your idea.”

You quipped as you slowly crossed the room towards the bed, pulling your long curls into a messy bun with the elastic on your wrist.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Rhea chortled, sitting up correctly on the bed as she reached her arms out to take both your palms in her own.

She hadn’t stopped looking at you since you’d got inside, the soft sparkle of her crystal gaze keeping you captivated as she gently pulled you forward and into the space between her thighs. Craning her head back slightly as to look up at you, you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your lips.

“Take a bath with me.”

You whispered. Reaching one of your palms out to pull through her hair, grasping at the back of her neck to pull her in for a soft kiss. She had taken a beating protecting you from Liv and deserved a bath of her own.

Your pearly whites nipped at Rhea’s lower lip as her palms slid around your waist, gently pulling you down to straddle her hips as she deepened the intensity of your kiss. You had no objections, all too willing to just sit a kiss her all night long but tomorrow was creeping in all too fast and you wanted memories, not moments.

“Take a bath with me.”

You muttering the words against Rhea’s lips as she held on tightly to your hips. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and you intended to get her into the bathtub one way or another.

Pressing one more kiss against the flush of Rhea’s lips, you tilt back slightly. The angle of your hips causing the silky fabric of your shorts to hike up your thighs, you shift back slightly to avoid discomfort.

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

An eat shit grin claimed Rhea’s lips as she released your hipbones and leant back on her palms once more, her manicured brow arching skyward as she licked slowly across her lower lip.

She didn’t say anything, her oceanic hues peeking up at you through thick full lashes as she adjusted her posture. You didn’t know what she was planning, but you could see the cogs turning as the eat shit grin returned to her lips.

Your heart rate increases as you move your palms to place them down against Rhea’s chest, hoping to at least battle off some of her plan.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You chuckle as your eyes widen slightly. You’d began to clue in to what was coming and unfortunately there was no escape. With one swift motion Rhea grasped both your palms to locked them in her own and with one twist of her hips she flipped you over to collide you spine with the soft mattress, her legs straddled either side of your waist as she pinned your wrists above your head.

“Don’t tell me you forgot pretty girl, Mami’s always on top.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

You purred as you teasingly roll your hips up against Rhea’s pelvis, your pearly whites rolling over your lower lip as an impish glimmer flashes in your eyes.

“But I said don’t make me tell you again and I meant it.”

With a sharp tug down, you pulled your wrists free from Rhea’s hold. Sitting up enough to begin unbuttoning the oversized black shirt that clung to her torso.

“So we’re gonna take this off…”

Your gaze flicks down to the buckle of Rhea’s belt and back up, your lips snapping a quick kiss from her lips before continuing your work on her buttons.

“Those too..”

The devious smirk that claimed Rhea’s lips as she watched you grew and grew, her shoulders rolling back to help as you slipped the fabric off her frame.

It was odd seeing Demi so docile, willingly allowing you to undress her as she simply gazed into your eyes. Her palms reaching out to wind her fingers around the hem of your cropped shirt, she gently tugged the soft purple fabric over your head.

Snaking your palms around the back of Rhea’s neck, you lean forward to press your lips tentatively against hers.

As your teeth gently tug at her lower lip, you use the flat of your palms to push Rhea to her feet and follow suit. Releasing her cushioned lip as your nimble fingers unbuckle her belt, you flash Rhea a devilish grin before slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. Removing the silky fabric in one swift motion, you drop it to the floor before pressing your naked form against hers.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

- - - - - - - - - -

The warmth of the water seemed to wash away all the tension you’d been holding on to as the tingle of Rhea’s lips against your jugular caused you lids to flutter, a soft hum vibrating in your chest as her fingertips danced over your abdomen.

It hadn’t taken Rhea long to undress and slide beneath the bubbly water behind you, your spine pressing into her torso as you rested your head back against her chest. Everything was finally so peaceful and as promised the two of you had your alone time.

“I wish we didn’t have to go home tomorrow.”

It was yet another moment that felt all too familiar, your lives pulling you apart at the seams once more to different parts of the globe.

Rhea hummed against your throat as she peppered a few more kisses down its length before scattering them across your shoulder, tilting her head slightly to press a chaste kiss against your temple.

“We don’t need to think about that, let’s just focus on right now.”

You weren’t the only one that was wishing tomorrow would come slower, Rhea too was beginning to struggle with the idea that yet again she’d have to leave you. At least this time she could say goodbye.

Bringing your palms through the bubbles and onto your stomach, you lace your fingers with Rhea’s as you bring your joined hands out of the water. The soapy suds dissolving off your skin as you gently blew your warm breath over them.

“Will you stay with me?”

Rhea’s answer was obvious— but taking a moment as to not sound too eager, she released one of your palms and tilted your chin up so she could press her lips to yours.

Your thick lashes fluttering closed briefly as you tightened your grip on Rhea’s palm, glimmering hues locking as your free hand reaches up to nestle around her cheek.

“Is that a yes?”

Rhea leant into your touch, your damp fingertips playing with ends of her hair as you awaited her answer. You didn’t want to be alone— not only did you feel unsafe to be left without her protection, you didn’t like sleeping alone after such emotion filled events like tonight.

Pressing her lips softly against the tip of your nose, Rhea lowered her head to rest her chin in the crook of your neck before releasing her words in a soft whisper.

“Baby, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

- - - - - - - - - - -

A soft expel of air parted your lips as you curled into Rhea’s side, the gentle sound of her breathing echoing in your ears as you traced your fingertips over the tattoo under her breasts. You were surprised the gentle touches didn’t wake her— soft movements like that tickled at your skin and you would have woken instantly.

You couldn’t sleep. The thoughts of Liv’s actions playing over and over in your head as you prayed for just a moment of subconscious silence.

You’d promised Rhea you’d try and rest, your flight wasn’t too early but you had so much to deal with when it came to the airport that you didn’t want to face your day exhausted.

“Just go to sleep.”

You grumbled to yourself.

“Go to sleep. Go to sleep.”

You just wanted some bliss. A peaceful moment to lull you off to sleep, was that too much to ask?

Sitting up in bed, you lean back against your pillows and rake your palms slowly down your face. A few curls had fallen from your messy bun as you’d tossed and turned evading sleep, your nimble fingers tucking them back into the elastic before slipping you legs from the sheets and over the side of the bed.

Rhea looked so peaceful as she lay motionless with her arm nestled behind her head— how was she able to sleep so soundly?

Gently clambering out of bed as to not wake her, you crossed the room toward the big window that overlooked the beach. Your slender arms stretched up over your head to releasing the tension in your spine, a soft groan vibrated in your chest as you peered out over the ocean.

Maybe some fresh air was what you needed.

A beach front hotel had its advantages— the large patch of sand within the hotels limits being for hotel guests only. It meant no unwanted garbage and an abundance of strategically located sun loungers with hotel embellished towels.

Swiftly crossing the room towards your open suitcase, you pull out the clothes you’d intended to wear to bed. Throwing them on in complete darkness, you grab your phone and room card from the dresser— taking a quick glance back at Rhea’s peacefully sleeping form before slipping out into the empty hallway.

You had bad luck when it came to walking through hotel hallways at night, always bumping into someone you’d rather avoid and ending up more stressed out than you were before. Here’s hoping this time you’d catch a break.

- - - - - - - - - -

The air seemed warmer than it had earlier that night, the subtle breeze coming in off the ocean playing with the ends of a few loose curls that hung around your features as you slipped off your shoes and stepped out onto the sand.

Your toes began to wiggle as you allowed your heavy lids to close, slowly inhaling a large breath of salty sea air as your arms stretch skyward. You loved the water— it was as if the waves washed away all your problems as they crested and broke against the shore.

The tide wasn’t too far out meaning you could sit close enough to the hotel to keep it in your site and still feel the waves breaking over your feet. Grasping a hotel towel that had been left out on a sun lounger, you draped it over your forearm and began the walk to the waves.

You weren’t sure this would even work. The fresh air would clear your mind enough to think, but would getting Liv out of your subconscious enough to help you sleep.

Placing the towel down onto the sand a few feet away from the waves, you drop down onto the cloth fabric before pulling your knees to your chest and expelling a shallow sigh. You wished your mind would clear— that Liv’s accusations would just disappear from your subconscious and allow you to focus on the fact that Rhea had stood up for you. That she had fought for you.

Your thoughts began to flash back to Rhea squaring up to Liv— accusing her of having no idea about what she was doing with you, how she felt about you.

How did Rhea feel about you?

Resting your forehead down against your knees, you focus on the heavy rise and fall of your chest. You weren’t panicked— not like how your trip had started, but you couldn’t believe yet again stress had taken it’s icy hold.

You’re too lost in your own battling subconscious to hear the gentle footsteps that approached you, the sounds of the crashing waves hiding the soft rustle of shoes upon the sand as a muscular frame sat down behind you.

“What are you doing out here?”

The thick Australian ascent flooded your ears as you instinctively lay back into Rhea’s awaiting embrace, your head resting upon her shoulder as her forearms wound around your waist to pull you back into the space between her thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

The soft cushion of Rhea’s lips pressed against your temple as she tightened her hold slightly, a hushed groan vibrating against your skin as she kept her kiss in place. She knew what was worrying you— keeping you from slumber, but what could she do to help?

“How did you find me?”

Your lids had fallen closed upon the tingle of Rhea’s kiss, thick lashes tickling your under eyes as you slowed your breathing the best you could to fall in line with hers.

A throaty chortle passed Rhea’s lips as she pulled back to look out over the ocean, her fingers lacing with yours across your torso as she hummed in contemplation. You didn’t care what her answer was. All that mattered to you was that she was here, holding you when you needed her.

It was hard for Rhea to explain just what called her to the beach, her instincts simply knowing where you were and that you needed her. You had a connection— like a string that tied you together and her heart knew where to go.

Keeping your fingers laced, she crossed your arms over your chest in a warm embrace. Her lips pressing softly against the shell of your ear as she whispered in a hushed tone.

“I’ll always find you, pretty girl.”

[morgoth-into-the-void-week]

Day 2 - 3.10.2024 - the Void

What even is it? Is it non-existence? Outer space? Something evil? What (lives?) dwells there? Can nothingness be evil? On the other hand, can evil exist as something more than lack of goodness?

Images on dark background, defined by negative space.

What was Ungolianth and where did she come from? What about the Nameless Horrors?

What is the role of silence in music?

And even further than that - there's the Beyond where Men go when they die. Morgoth claimed (to Hurin and to the ancestors of Men) that he's the master of the Void and there's nothing more. Discussions between Morgoth and Hurin (I bet they talked more about that, they had a lot of time), between Men, between Sauron and Ar-Pharazon...

Why are most people afraid of the darkness between the stars?

Also, there's a strange connection between darkness and textile arts. Ungolianth weaves darkness. Luthien is weird and weaves a shadow to hide. Vaire the weaver is the wife of Namo, doomsman and keeper of the dead. And Miriel died. In a place where nobody was supposed to die, even more than anywhere else. So this is the day for textile arts, even very loosely related. As long as it's dark and a little eldritch, and made of strings, fabrics and threads, it's fine.

Crossover potential: Nobilis, Chuubo's any setting that has the concept of Void-between-worlds (Exalted, even). Neverending story? Cthulhu mythos. Potentially WFRP40k, Skyward and anything that has creepy-philosophical-warp-space.

[electronicgalah]

[gracieelinn]

In case you wondered where my brain rot is rn, here's your answer: Brandon Sanderson and DreamWorks' Dragons, my beloved

[zarvasace]

Joshi

Hearts Linked Together character post

Different art style but it’s fun! :) (many of these Links will not be blond. I have drawn so many blond boys, my own Links will be different!)

Link Joshi is inspired by Indian culture, and is the hero preceding Skyward Sword, as per the bonus manga. He’s always been fascinated by the stars, and when the goddess Hylia first spoke to him to warn him of the oncoming monsters, he thought it was maybe the moon itself speaking to him. In this Linkverse, the “gods” are simply people with extra connection to magic because they come from and live on the moon. Hylia is no different, and she is subject to mortal folly, though she presented herself as infallible at first. She really is caring, but not always far-seeing. She fell in love with Joshi, especially as he began to take her advice and led a small party against a group of scouting monsters.

Unfortunately, the leaders of his people grew suspicious of Joshi’s warnings and claims of speaking with a goddess and imprisoned him. He grew cynical, and when they let him out to lead their armies against the growing monster horde (the main forces of the Imprisoning War), he did it for the land and the sky more than the people. When Hylia used her power to raise a city to join the islands in the sky, Joshi himself was wounded and near death. She intended to take him to the moon and make him a god himself, but he didn’t love her back and said as much. Frustrated, she left him be. He barely survived, and eventually built a little house for himself.

He meets the other heroes once he’s settled down. He’s still jaded about gods, most magic, and fighting in general, but he has a caring heart. He loves the stars to death and is a very good navigator, looking just to the celestial bodies.

[pandorias-box]

Ascent

The song of the Azure Flute reverberated across the peak of the ruined temple, echoing across the land. It was a similar song to that of the Celestica Flute: one that was known almost instinctively despite Pandoria never playing the instrument in her life. It was a song for the heavens themselves, and she hoped that its clandestine melody would reach the Creator that awaited her beyond the sky. Even after the short song was over, the notes still hung in the air.

Suddenly, a brilliant light shone in front of her and made something manifest. It was a crystalline stairway leading into the heavenly domain of Arceus. Pandoria took a deep breath and looked skyward. It was yet another perilous climb in front of her. Each of the stairs were not connected to one another, so they essentially floated in the air. One wrong misstep would be met in a fatal end. However, this was not the size of an ordinary stairway, but that akin to one leading to a palace or place of great importance. Even still, she had to tread carefully. She was to face a god, after all.

One that had commanded her to quell the imbalance in spacetime and to seek out all Pokémon. She had completed the deity’s request, but she still had not sought out them all. Arceus itself was a Pokémon too, after all. But to gain the trust of a god was one thing, to capture one was another. Pandoria felt as if doing such a thing to the creator of countless worlds would make her as bad as her ancestors that once tried to lay claim to the Blinding One’s power for themselves so long ago. She was only a mortal. She could not handle such power even if she tried. Yet, she had to face it. She had to prove herself worthy before the one they call the Alpha.

The beginning.

The Original One.

After climbing countless steps, she made it to the top. The stars shone above her shone brilliantly whilst the stairs and a large platform were enveloped in streams of light similar to an aurora. The large platform was made out of the same unknown crystalline material that the stairs were, but unlike the stairs, it was engraved with an intricate pattern. That of intertwining circles and triangles, the symbolism she could not comprehend. Her heartbeat quickened with anticipation with every step she took.

This was the Hall of Origin, the domain of the one that shaped all realms. The domain of the almighty and omnipotent. How in the worlds was she to overcome a trial set by the creator of the universe? It seemed that such a thing would test her limits and see if she would break. An ultimate test of resolve and will. This was the last obstacle standing in her path preventing her from returning home to her family and allies.

After all the pain and betrayal she had faced, there was only one more thing to do.

Pandoria glanced around the platform to see if Arceus was hiding in wait for her, but she could not find anything or anyone there.

Instead, Arceus was the one that found her.

I hath been awaiting you, o child of the stars.

Its voice echoed in her mind. It was booming; sounding neither male or female but at the same time embodied everything. The voice of a god rung in her ears. The same one that had decried her to venture forth on this journey to begin with. Chills crept down her body as Pandoria turned around to see the being known as the creator stand in front of her. The creature loomed over her. It was a quadrupedal white Pokémon with parts of its body embellished in gold. Its red and green eyes pierced her gaze like ancient jewels.

Once again, a radiant light shone in front of Pandoria before coalescing into a tangible form. She was touching light itself. The very essence of divinity, and yet it did nothing to her, keeping her unchanged. Arceus continued to stare her down.

This is thine final trial. Prove to me thine strength. Show me thou hast the will to face creation. Then and only then shall I grant you what you wish.

Pandoria stood her ground. Arceus reared on its haunches in defiance and focused its gaze on the otherworlder before rearing to strike.

She had borne witness to a god before in the form of the Blinding One returning to Ultra Megalopolis; a creature of radiant and otherworldly light.

Now she must face the embodiment of all creation and divinity in battle.

[self-shipping-doll13]

3. Eating Together - 🦘👓

Selfindulgent September Prompts

When I bit into the little charred lizard skewered on my stick, it tasted fatty and chewy. Not bad. It was a ‘New Mexico Whiptail,’ according to a nature book I’d flipped through in Tuefort’s library once. Mick had piked it for us to roast and eat, as casually as he would kill a man. I found that oddly romantic.

My eyes flickered up to watch him from across the campfire, the bright, orange flames dancing shadows on his face as he ate. The absence of his nigh-omnipresent aviators left it plainly bare. I understood there was a significance to that. Humming, I tore out another chunk of my Whiptail lizard kebab, tilting my vision further, skyward.

Tonight, the full moon was pale and fat, radiant. The sunset had bled red into dusk, bruised into purple into darkening, indigo night, stars twinkling icily.

“It’s so lovely out here,” I said breathlessly. And I meant it, too, fruitlessly craning my neck to see, to devour it. His sharp gaze pinpricked into me then.

“You won’t find a sky like that in the city,” Mick claimed, almost proudly. “Tastes good?”

“Mhm,” I answered, nodding. It did. “Y’know, the way it was scurrying about, I barely noticed it, ‘til…”

“Won’t stay still like a croc,” he said, and gestured with his lizard. “Fast little buggers, these ones.” Mick cleaned the morsel off his stick, victorious.

I blinked owlishly. “You’ve hunted crocodiles before?”

Now, this had piqued my interest. Hadn’t I caught sight of teeth hung around his neck? He was grinning a little, one sharp, pointed canine poking out. But when I turned back to him, he quickly looked away. Mick’s eyes were blue - watchful and keen.

“Ah, yeah,” he scratched his cheek. The heat of the licking fire kept the chill from seeping in, beating back the encroaching rim of black desert waste. Still, I inched towards him, and felt warmer. “Back home, you have to sort of… S’bit of a long story.”

I shuffled again. My curiosity had overtaken me.

It had been months for months since we’d first spoken down the phone, and I still didn’t know nearly as much about Mick as I would’ve liked. I was aware of the fancy we shared, baking slow under the vivid New Mexico sun… He was patient, and so was I.

“There’s also those marshmallows in the van…” I hesitated, suddenly bashful. I felt myself grow warmer still. “If you don’t mind telling me?”

And his smile told me that he didn’t.

[cinderaudio]

Cytoverse. Skyward. Starlight.

Cytonic.

Claim the Stars spensa 🌠🚀.

[sketchyonlooker]

< A live camera feed comes into view. >

A small yellow-and-green shop with a single red door comes into view. The word Game in English lettering can be seen above the entrance. A familiar spiky-haired silhouette briefly peeks through one of the shop windows, only to vanish before other people noticed. Outside the normally empty surroundings were more than several dozens of people, all of them wearing Duel Disks, making a rough attempt at a line. Many of them looked solemn or determined while others looked excited; all of them were trying to put their best face out there because they knew this event involving the most famous of Duel Monsters stars was bound to have a lot of media floating around. This small group of duelists participating paled to the number of spectators that came to watch. Lingering outside the large empty block that surrounded the shop, the spectators excitedly pointed at familiar faces in the line, minor celebrities when it came to the world of Duel Monsters. Some looked skyward, expecting the Kaibas to make an entrance that way. However, a good number of the spectators weren't duelists at all but those who smelled a business opportunity. Hence why there were hawkers and food trucks set up around the block, each one taking advantage of the duelists with their own Duel-Monster-themed culinary creations.

-----

An ice cream waffle cone stacked with chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry scoops was being handed over to a kid from a food truck. Even in the cold, it was popular with the children because each scoop was decorated to make them look like Kuribohs with different cheery expressions. The fact it sold cappuccinos as well, decorated with a foam art of popular Duel Monsters, also meant the parents could get their fix of Duel Monsters-themed foods and drinks too.

-----

A fluffy omelet rice on a paper container is seen, being shown off by the cook in the food truck. It is decorated by a cutesy image of the Dark Magician Girl giving a starry wink made in ketchup. In the background, a teenage girl with short black hair and wearing a Duel Disk could be seen with her hand raised like a maniac's, bills clenched within. Her most flamboyant feature is the bright blue witch's hat she wore. "I'll take three!"

-----

"Get your official Kame Game Shop Tournament hoodies here!" said a hawker showing off various hoodies on several tables. The most popular ones, evident from the dwindling piles, were the purple Dark Magician sweaters and the white-and-blue Blue Eyes White Dragon sweaters; they both had images of the respective monsters up front and a Kame Game Shop Tournament 2023 at the back. There's even a crimson red Red Eyes Black Dragon hoodie, though the large pile remaining made it clear that it wasn't nearly as popular as the other two. "Show your support! Are you Team Mutou or Team Kaiba? Or maybe you want to show some love for the underdog?" A woman with spiky-looking sidebangs passing by glared at the man with irritation and disbelief. Thick-winged eyeliner added a weight to her glare. "You have the balls to say your stuff is official when the Game Shop is right there?" The hawker pauses and then cheekily winks, "Is the Game Shop selling hoodies? And do you see any other people claiming to sell official hoodies like me? Since you only see me, mine's gotta be official by default, right?" The woman's eyebrow twitched, "Do you really think that argument will work if Mutou or Kaiba demanded compensation?" The man shrugs and grins, "well, if they ask for compensation, wouldn't that make my stuff official then?" "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works," said the ravenette, her previous indignation turning into amusement despite herself. Not everyday, one meets someone so thick-skinned. She glances over at one of the red Red Eyes Black Dragon hoodies with pursed lips. Seeing an opportunity, the hawker adds, "Besides you won't lose out buying my hoodies. Good material woven very well. Good for yourself or a gift!" He then looked conspiratorially to the left and right as if searching for any onlookers, "I'll let you buy this for 25% off. Just because it'll be kinda sad if Wheeler sees a sea of white and purple but no red, right?" A pause. "...That would be pretty sad, wouldn't it?" Cha-ching.