#the tethered mage

[missbronto]

Crow Lord or something, idk

[nicholaes]

melissa caruso may be my new favourite author

not that i really had one before but i read her first trilogy last month and im reading her second one set in the same world (currently on the second book) and theyre just so damn good. the characters are amazing and i love the world shes created, the way magic works is so interesting im constantly thinking i love this its got everything its perfect and then some new element gets introduced that makes it even better ???

anyway this is a propaganda post for the swords and fire and rooks and ruin trilogy by melissa caruso go read the tethered mage and the obsidian tower

[mruschdraws]

Coffee & Book Recommendations

It's not June, but it's always time for pride, and cozy books. Thought I'd share some favorites over the years.

"Legends and Lattes" -- A cozy cup of literary coffee. A retired adventurer Orc decides to open up her very own coffee shop! Slice of life, high fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy prose.

"The Prince and the Dressmaker" -- Historical fiction following a Prince and his dressmaker. Explores themes of identity, fashion, self-expression and relationships. Standalone graphic novel.

"Our Dreams at Dusk" -- A young man grapples with his feelings, and finds other members of the LGBT community in his town. Lesbian and Ace rep. Four volume manga series by the creator of Nabari No Ou.

"The Priory of the Orange Tree" -- High fantasy, Epic. Wyrms and Dragons oh my! If you'd like a longer fantasy read with tons of dragons along the vibes of Game of Thrones narratives across the continents, this could be a fit.

"The Tethered Mage" (trilogy) -- Alchemy meets elemental-wielding Warlocks. Female frendships. Bi rep. All set in a fantastical Venice-like setting with political intrigue.

"The Mighty Nein Origins: Yasha Nydoorin" -- TTRPG Fantasy, collection comic. A female warrior from the harsh badlands of Xhorhas finds love among harsher trials. Gorgeous artwork, short read.

[abigailspinach]

“Finally, Zaira spotted Lady Savony striding across the Plaza of Six Fountains, heading north toward the river.

“Here, carry this.” Zaira stuffed her sack into my arms. It wasn’t heavy—soft and light, in fact, as if full of cloth—but it was awkward.

“Why me? What is this, anyway?” I asked as we hurried after our quarry.

“Because otherwise your movements and posture will scream I’m being sneaky. This way, all they can say is I’m carrying something.”

Her sidelong glance laughed at me. “It’s like sticking sweets in a brat’s mouth so he can’t say anything stupid.”

“I see you’ve thought of everything,” I grumbled. But she was right; I couldn’t overthink acting casual, because I was too worried about how to hold the lopsided sack without dropping it.”

— The Tethered Mage (Swords and Fire Book 1) by Melissa Caruso

[desperatecheesecubes]

Was just STRUCK with the memory of the Swords and Fire trilogy by Melissa Caruso and now have an overwhelming desire to reread it

[abigailspinach]

Series won me over when they at least had an on page discussion of pursuing the polycule option instead of choosing between her love options.

Decided against it but bless the book for at least thinking about it.

Love triangles are always like "Will she choose generic white guy 1 or generic white guy 2?" You know what, maybe what the generic white guys really need to choose is eachother

[asexualbookbird]

last hour between worlds is the only book left on my list thats Available Now so guess tjats my next audiobook lol

[thanatologie]

which, actually, in a follow up thought related to elder scrolls no one asked for or cares about but that i want to put a pin in to explore later for me: scratch the devotee of arkay thing, who cares about arkay, fuck arkay. like it's kind of hard to deny the aedra and daedra since they, you know, physically exist and do have an effect on the world (which, fair, when you get into the lorkhan of it all the aedra are mostly cut off and the daedra aren't but that is neither here nor there for the purposes of this thinky thought). like you pray at a shrine sometimes you get an answer, sometimes people literally mantle (become) the gods, it's a whole ass thing.

but emmrich being emmrich probably has a very dwemer-esque mindset about all of that in that, sure, they're real, true facts things. powerful, yeah, but maybe not worthy of a whole ass religion that was a compromise to marry nordic animism and the elven pantheon after the slave rebellion and trashing of the ayleid empire, right.

no, arkay has fuck all to do with whatever he's got going on, but what does effect him is the banning of the practice of necromancy from the arcane university (and the college of winterhold at a much later date). sure, you say elder scrolls necromancy and think mannimarco, i'm sure, but there have been necromancers that aren't actually terrible, awful people who use their knowledge of it to do horrible things, and he'd follow a path more in line with the recommendations of on necromancy and the order of the hidden moon, encouraging the dead to move on instead of what the majority of necromancers are doing which is keeping souls tethered instead.

[raintheghost]

Opened another story document but this time, instead of being untitled document number 23? 24? It is now officially named. I’m so good at these things.

[chaaistained]

somewhere between lumos and leviosa

marauders dr wand breakdown

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if you’re magic, you’re born into this world with a little bit of an itch, just a bothersome little crackle in your fingertips, a tingle in your brain, a need to do something, make something, break something — construction, destruction, transmutation — you were made to create .. but lacked the tool to channel that power

the wand is not only a piece of equipment. it’s a companion, a teacher, an extension of your mind — and the right wand finds you

mine found me after six different attempts, i was growing restless, my eleven year old attention span was wearing very thin and another false positive would have sent me into a spiral

but then i was handed this beauty :

9.5” inches of dark red sandalwood, the kind that is found deep in the forests of karnataka. it encases a mere four strands of mermaid hair, braided together and kept in place by the sturdy celestite crystal near the base of the wood. embedded with both a source of magic (the mermaid hair) and a source of mediation (the crystal), this wand has a power that revels in the extremes, whatever the spectrum, it enjoys testing its limits. and to combat this detrimentally curious nature, the oxidised silver handle allows for a form of equilibrium, balancing the scales of both the wand and the witch that wields it —

red sandalwood :

from a tree that thrives in tropically dry and arid soil, red sandalwood (or sandalwood in general) is deeply paradoxical in its nature, it’s multifaceted, it’s twin layered — on the one hand, it enjoys an environment without much moisture, but on the other hand, sandalwood will always be associated with the moon and water — protective symbols of light and darkness, chaos and consolation — wielders with wands of this nature may find their magic is stronger at night, more acute during a full moon, a little temperamental at a new moon, and ever so inclined to natural, elemental magic … [excels in charms, alchemy and ancient runes]

mermaid hair :

an unusual wand core, mermaid hair reverberates at a level of serene melancholy, it engages well with those that thrive in solidarity. very loyal in nature — it will not be easily swayed to another wielder if stolen or even won in battle. it seeks freedom and exploration and is inclined to wielders that are curious and experimental in their magic. when mastered, this core has a proclivity to enhance the mental stimulation of its wielder and empower some forms of wandless magic, opting to be subconsciously linked rather than practically used. because of this deeply personal connection between the wand core and its wielder, mermaid hair wands tend to be a novelty and passed down between generations of the same family, much like mermaids and their tightly knit bonds, so, if a wielder is randomly chosen by a mermaid hair wand, they might want to look into their family history … [excels in potions, herbology and alchemy]

celestite crystal :

highly vibrational in nature, celestite is both fragile yet powerful. when tethered to something sturdy and dependable, celestite has the ability to transmute and enhance the energy of its host and one needs to only touch it to feel the charge of its power. it is used by many seers and mages, adorned on their person as a beacon of psychic activation, giving clarity to clairvoyant messages, and when used right, it can revolutionise dreams to be more vivid and memorable. on the more practical side, both wizards and muggles alike use this crystal for its flammability — in fireworks and potions, to destroy cursed objects and burn bloodied runes — this crystal can start a flame with just a sliver of a shard, if left uncontrolled … [excels in potions, ancient runes and defence against the dark arts]

oxidised silver :

renowned for its safety and protective properties, silver has been used for millennia to ward off vampires, werewolves and malevolent spirits (though the accuracy of this belief is debatable), it explains the age of the wand itself — a wand encased in silver has lived a long life and has probably been used for many centuries. the element of change and the cycles of life and death pass by, but the power of silver doesn’t diminish, it only evolves — the oxidised nature of silver responds to the temperament of the wielder, the way they hold the wand, the placement of their hand, and it blackens around the grasp — light surrounded by darkness, the shadow beneath the flame, death preceding rebirth … [excels in transfiguration, alchemy, and ancient runes]

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[ marauders dr intro ]

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

[nicholaes]

the tethered mage series is so good I feel like it should be more popular

[thedemonofcat]

At the tender age of seven, Jaskier is taken to Kaer Morhen—not to become a witcher, but to participate in a groundbreaking experiment. The goal is to determine whether a witcher, bound to a companion through the soul, might endure longer on the Path. With his half-elven blood and innate magical potential, Jaskier is chosen for this unprecedented endeavor.

For reasons known only to the mage overseeing the experiment, Geralt, another seven-year-old trainee, is selected as his counterpart. As Geralt endures the brutal witcher trials, Jaskier hones his magical abilities, specializing in healing and nature-based magic. In the final stage of the experiment, their souls become irrevocably entwined, forging a connection neither of them had anticipated.

Years pass, and Geralt grows resentful of the arrangement. He never wanted Jaskier—especially not when his so-called companion decides to abandon Kaer Morhen’s teachings to become a bard. Caring for Jaskier feels more like a burden than a bond. So, when Geralt finally sends him away to the mountains, he tells himself he should feel relieved. Instead, he feels hollow.

Only then does he realize—somewhere along the way, he fell in love with Jaskier.

Meanwhile, Jaskier finds himself truly alone for the first time since childhood. With nothing to tether him, he finds the family that abandoned him, desperate to understand why they gave him up.

[abigailspinach]

All these other forces disturbing the serenity of the Empire—Leodra, Vaskandar—have helped create this problem.” My corset stays dug into my legs as I strained at the edge of my seat. “You must see that.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then surely you wouldn’t burn Ardence over a needless conflict sparked by deceit. We must find out the truth behind the false Falconer incident, not escalate it to war.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My lady, you mistake the situation, and you mistake me.”

“Oh?” “This is not a matter of truth,” he said. “This is a matter of dominion.”

My shoulders went rigid. “So you don’t care who took those children. You don’t care who’s trying to start a war. You just want Ardence to bend the knee.”

“On the contrary, Lady Amalia. I do care. I want to see the children returned, and the ones who would dare attempt to manipulate the Serene Empire brought to justice.” He spread his hands. “If you wish to seek the truth, by all means, do so, with my blessing. You are reportedly a woman of intelligence, and you have connections in Ardence; you are well suited to the task. And if the truth can prevent a war, so much the better.” His voice was hard as a new-forged blade. “But that truth alone will not keep Ardence from harsh consequences. They have broken the Serene Accords twice. The only thing that can save them now is acceptance of Raverran rule.”

I didn’t dare speak. The words on my tongue were too bitter. The doge leaned forward. “I have one clear priority: the unassailable strength and unity of the Serene Empire. If Ardence pushes us any further—if it rebels against the Serene City openly—then yes, Lady Amalia. It will burn. And to be clear, yours will be the word that burns it.”

I stared at him, my throat tight and hot. He waited, patient as a stalking leopard. Finally, I nodded. “Yes, Your Serenity.”

— The Tethered Mage (Swords and Fire Book 1)

[heliosunny]

GRGRGRGR I LOVE YOUR YAN! ANAXA FIC SO MUCHH!!!!! i can feel his desperation through the screen bcs of your writing style!!

but i'm curious. what would happen if we were too late to undo the binding curse? i'm mainly interested in how it would affect anaxa's behavior. would he become a lot more shameless towards reader? concerninly more devoted to reader? or something.

anyway have a great day! love all of your fics!

Ty for sending me your rq. At first, I thought of Anaxa easily surpassing his master but then it'll be no fun. Turns out the final version impressed many of you so I think: okay, this should have an au.

Yandere!Anaxa x Mage!Reader

Artist: gumi_min08 on X

Visit [Previous]

It finally succeeded. He felt it, so did you. The way his magic wove into yours, not forcefully, but willingly. Anaxa watched you with reverence, eyes filled with something far deeper than mere obsession.

“You trained me” he murmured, brushing gloved fingers over your sleeve, his touch featherlight, almost hesitant. “You shaped me into what I am.”

His fingers curled, as if he wanted to grip you, hold you close, but he didn’t dare. “My magic is yours now. My strength, my will, all of it belongs to you.”

His lips curled slightly, his next words dripping with dark devotion.

“You could break me if you wanted to.”

Your fingers twitched, magic crackling between your palms. And he shuddered. Not in pain, but in rapture.

Your breath stayed even, your control unshaken. “You think binding yourself to me will make me yours?”

Anaxa exhaled sharply.

“No.” His eyes gleamed under the dim torchlight, his voice dropping lower, almost desperate. “But it makes me yours.”

Your magic flared in response. You could feel him. His pulse, his emotions, the way his body ached for your command. You had the power here.

You tilted your chin up, gazing at him with unreadable calm. “You’ve made a mistake, Anaxa.”

His breath hitched, but his smirk remained, a twisted sort of satisfaction flickering in his gaze. “Have I?”

You stepped forward. Your fingers barely brushed against his chest, magic sparking from the touch, his magic trembling in response to yours. His muscles tensed, his entire body waiting.

“Then command me” he murmured, voice raw, filled with something dangerous. “Make me regret it.”

The challenge hung between you, thick and heavy.

You smiled.

A bold challenge. A reckless dare. And oh, how he meant it.

Anaxa didn’t blink as your magic surged, testing the connection between you. You could feel it, his pulse, his hunger, his unwavering devotion. His magic intertwined with yours, raw and unfamiliar, a force you weren’t used to wielding.

It wasn’t submission. It was offering. A dangerous gift, and he knew exactly what he had given you.

You could break him.

You could undo him.

And he would thank you for it.

“Follow me.”

Anaxa inhaled sharply, as if the words alone had power over him. His entire body tensed, not in hesitation, but in satisfaction. He lived for this.

The royal summons arrived sooner than expected.

A minor disturbance near the border, nothing that required the kingdom’s full force, but enough to demand your attention.

It was a test. The king wanted to see how you handled matters now that you had bound Anaxa to you. Anaxa, to his credit, remained composed during the meeting, standing slightly behind you, his presence looming. You were given the task. It wasn’t difficult, but the moment you stepped outside the castle, you felt it.

His magic, tethered to yours.

A second presence in your veins, pulsing with raw, dangerous energy.

It was unnatural. Unfamiliar. Not yours.

And yet… It listened.

It shifted at your will, reacting to your command, awkward at first, but soon it settled. You were adapting to it so quick.

And Anaxa? He noticed.

The mission had been simple. You completed it with ease, your control over Anaxa’s magic growing more refined, more effortless. He watched you the entire time.

And now, back in the tower, his composure had begun to slip.

“You’re getting used to it” he murmured as he leaned against your desk, his eyes half-lidded, watching the way your fingers traced the edges of a spellbook.

You didn’t look up. “Of course I am.”

A low hum. “How does it feel?”

You turned a page idly, not missing the way he inched closer.

“Like something I could destroy you with.”

Anaxa exhaled. He stepped behind you, gloved fingers brushing over your wrist. His touch was deliberate, slow. Affectionate.

“Then do it” he murmured, voice dangerously soft.

You didn’t pull away. You could feel his warmth, his obsession, the way his magic curled around yours, binding, craving.

It would be so easy to push him away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you turned slightly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Anaxa’s breath hitched. Because you were looking at him differently now.

Not with disgust.

Not with hatred.

But with power.

And he had never loved you more.

You could feel it growing inside you.

Anaxa’s power was never simply magic, but something ancient, raw, instinctual. His people had once been warriors, feared across the lands for their overwhelming might. Magic was in their blood, in their bones. They were not mere spellcasters, they were forces of nature, walking calamities.

And now, their magic pulsed in your veins.

Even as you wielded it with more ease, even as your spells became sharper, more devastating, you refused to keep it.

This power was never meant to be yours.

Anaxa would never willingly let go. You knew that. So you did not ask.

You simply brewed the potion, hidden among the vials of restoratives and calming tonics he trusted you to make.

He drank it without suspicion, sitting at your desk, fingers idly tracing the fabric of your sleeve as he watched you read.

“You keep getting stronger” he murmured, as if in awe.

You hummed in response, letting him thread his fingers with yours. Letting him enjoy this moment.

He didn’t notice the way his eyelids grew heavy.

Didn’t realize what you had done until his grip on your hand weakened, his breathing slowing.

“…Master?”

You stood as his body slumped forward, catching him before he collapsed entirely.

His eyes, those burning, devoted eyes—looked up at you, hazy with betrayal. And yet, even as unconsciousness pulled him under, his fingers twitched, reaching for you. You didn’t let him.

You laid him down gently, brushing a stray lock of silver from his face.

“Rest, Anaxa.”

And then, you left.

The Magic Fall—a place where magic pooled in its purest form, untouched by mortal hands.

Few dared to go there.

You had no choice.

Your steps were swift, your mind sharp. The moment you arrived, the energy of the fall pulsed around you, responding to your presence. It knew you. And it knew the power that did not belong.

You knelt before the shimmering pool, closing your eyes, reaching inward, searching for the foreign magic buried inside you.

It fought back. It had settled too deeply, woven into your very being, not just a borrowed force but a claimed one.

And in that moment, you realized something.

This wasn’t a mere binding. Anaxa had given himself to you completely. There was no longer a clear line between your magic and his. If you wanted to remove it, you would have to break something fundamental within yourself.

And as you hesitated, just for a fraction of a second—

A hand gripped your wrist.

Your breath stilled.

You turned your head, slowly.

He was there.

Awake.

Watching you.

Those eyes no longer hazy, no longer vulnerable—but sharp. Unyielding.

He should still be unconscious. The potion should have lasted hours.

Anaxa’s grip tightened, but not painfully.

“You tried to leave me behind.”

His voice was steady, low. Unforgiving.

You did not answer. Because you knew what you had done. The words hung between you, thick with quiet anger, quiet devotion.

Anaxa’s grip on your wrist was firm. His magic pulsed against yours, reacting to your emotions, your hesitation.

You kept your face neutral. Unshaken.

“Let go, Anaxa.”

His fingers only tightened, slow and deliberate, but not forceful. Not yet. “No.” His voice was steady, unwavering.

You exhaled slowly, glancing at the shimmering magic pool beneath you. “I won’t ask again.”

A slow smirk curled on his lips, but his eyes were anything but amused.“Then don’t.”

He pulled. And before you could react, before you could stop him, he stepped into the pool with you. Magic surged around you both, light swallowing the world whole. The magic fall was alive. It wrapped around your bodies, seeking, searching, demanding answers. Your body trembled as the magic within you pulsed violently, tangled in Anaxa’s essence, reacting as if it had always belonged.

No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You had come here to remove him.

Instead, the pool was accepting him. Accepting you together.

Anaxa’s fingers laced through yours, his magic intertwining too naturally.

You snapped your head toward him. “What did you do?”

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something deep, all-consuming.

“I belong to you.” His voice was soft, reverent, worshipful.

The spell was not something you could simply undo. Not something to sever without consequence. It was no longer just a spell. It had become a foundation. A part of you and him. The magic fall itself recognized it. The water around you pulsed, ripples of golden energy reacting to the bond, not rejecting it, but strengthening it.

Your stomach turned cold.

This place....this pure, ancient magic...should have erased him from you. Instead, it was solidifying him in you. There would be no breaking this. Not without breaking yourself.

Anaxa had known all along. That was why he hadn’t fought the potion. Why he hadn’t tried to stop you before. Because he knew you would fail.

His other hand rose slowly, fingertips brushing your cheek.

You should have slapped him away.

Should have burned him with your magic.

Should have done something.

Instead, you stared at him- trapped in the realization that this man had given himself to you in a way that could never be undone.

Anaxa’s smirk softened into something too tender, too dangerous.

“You can’t get rid of me, Master.”

His lips brushed against your knuckles, breath warm against your skin.

“And even if you could…”

His fingers curled against yours. “You wouldn’t.”

You couldn’t deny it. That part of him that got woven to you affected you greatly. Your life is now his too. But will he get the upper hand? You shall let time decides.

[lillyloon]

Skratt the goblin, and his surprise eidolon partner "Lizard"

"Born in an empoverished Goblin-Human mixed community at the bottom rung of the social ladder, Skratt wishes to put his culinary talents to the test and become a renowned chef. His plans take a nosedive when he happens upon the wrong place at the wrong time, and gets an arcane crystal lodged into his chest, thus saddling him with brewing magical abilities, as well as an ethereal "passenger". Too bad magic of any kind is highly illegal in his country."

More tidbits below

- Skratt originally started his climb to "chef-dom" at a small local cafe, only for things to go downhill when he was sent to deliver an order, and accidentally crashed a secret ritual. Come next morning, he woke up with a gem lodged in his chest, a voice in his head, and no memories of the night prior. He may not know it, but punishment from the law is the least of his worries, as a secret cult of mages wish to retrieve that which he "stole".

- Due to the lack of food in his community, Goblins tend to offer up their portions for humans to eat: Goblins can sustain themselves off of nearly anything independently of freshness or edibility, and have an underdeveloped sense of taste, so they had little issue giving up their cleaner foods for others who need it more. Because of this, Skratt grew up wishing to better the dietary conditions of his friends and family back home, and took effort in learning each sapient race's dietary needs and limitations, so he could always prepare good dishes for all.

- He may not know it, but Skratt feels subconsciously ashamed of his goblin heritage, as goblinkind's tendency to impulsiveness and memory issues gave them a nasty reputation in certain parts. He tries to keep his "goblinish" traits away from view, such as his more... unorthodox culinary experiments,  which often include one of Goblin's most favored techniques: "If it exists, it can be Pickled".

- Skratt holds a love-hate relationship with fire. On the one hand,  it's a necesary step in most recipes. On the other, too much of it tends to send him on maniacal spirals. His first forays into the culinary arts landed him nasty scars on his head and hands, as his 'over-enthusiasm'  got the better of him. Fortunately, he learned to reel it in, as long as the fire's not too big. Naturally, the crystal stuck on his chest gifted him some fire magic of his own...

- "Lizard", as Skratt derisively calls it, is the large salamander-like fae creature inhabiting (?) the crystal in his chest. Though appearing as nothing more than a nonsapient beast, Skratt knows the being more than capable of communicating in its native tongue, though it loves to pretend for fun's sake. Because of the city's strict ban of all magic, Skratt finds it an abhorrent "passenger" at first, tethered to him and ready to burst out at a moments notice, risking them both being found out. Once they manage to form a shaky truce, they both grow to know and understand each other, slowly building synergy in thought and action, and influencing each other: Skratt learns to cut free and let lose, while "Lizard" starts to appreciate its goblinoid partner's passions, even taking up cooking itself.

- Skratt's favourite type of coffee is Dark coffee infused with chili pepper

[vigilskeep]

do you actually have a ranking or like. rundown of each love interest's particular brand of insanity re: tranquil beloved...? or if that's too big an ask perhaps the highlights.. i am sitting so attentively reading all of the ones you've detailed thus far

in no particular order

zevran: cruel to the end to ask him to have his love’s blood on his hands again, but if he believed it was what they would have wanted, it would be the gentlest, tenderest, of assassinations

morrigan: what power does a templar possess that is beyond her ability to reverse? she will claw the answer from the far corners of the earth and the furthest reaches of the fade before she abandons what is hers

leliana: once, the chantry sunburst was a comfort, a sign of refuge in a world of darkness. now she can only see the one burned into their skin, the wondrous gifts the maker gave to them stolen in the maker’s name, the cruellest game he has played yet. could she keep her faith through such a test? would she even want to?

alistair: there is a hollow in his life that can’t be laughed around. a sick weight in the stomach, remembering flipping his runic token between his fingers in distraction through every chantry lecture where they promised this was necessary. he’s angry. he’s beginning to think he might be a very angry person, really. he’s beginning to think he’s got good reason

fenris: he wonders if, when the lyrium was touched to their forehead, it burned the way his does. he thinks better of asking. there was a time when magic felt like a curse on them both that he couldn’t break. he wants it back

anders: history always repeats itself. there are certain inevitabilities, foregone conclusions, lessons the circle teaches well. you escape, you get caught. you love something, they take it away. you destroy the last thread tethering a mage to humanity—you’re that brutal, that cruel, that stupid—and all you’ll have left is an abomination

merrill: she never understood tranquillity until it was this close; she could never really believe it was possible. it doesn’t matter. her love’s not quite here right now, even as she chatters away to them, but it doesn’t matter. you can fix anything, as long as you’re willing to pay the price

isabela: it’s her own fault, really. her own fault, for taking a chance on someone so targeted, so foolish, so—brave. her own fault for believing them, when they promised she wasn’t going to lose them. she should leave. there’s nothing left for her here. but it’s gotten so hard to run away

sebastian: this changes nothing. his love is as cold as the portraits that line the halls of the palace in starkhaven, as silent and empty as the chantry statues that offer no guidance for what will come. he still kisses their cheek, takes their hand, walks at their side. he is still a husband; he still has his vows, and one more to add to the rest—to find who blackened the maker’s name with this, and teach them what His judgement truly looks like