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bossbtch1 · 5 months

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HI! I just wanna say I lovee ur stories, but I was wondering if you could do a Loki x reader shadow play smut, with content.

I loved the other one u did... but I'm a sucker for smut 😭😌

Hey there! So, in the previous story, there's smut involved (dark story). But maybe the shadow play in the last scene isn't cutting it. No worries, here's another scenario for you! Thanks for the request, it's been a blast to write. It's weirdly amusing, I don't know why, but I hope you enjoy it! 😄

Summary : Loki sought revenge after you left him in prison, tormenting you with shadows and magic. Strangely, you found yourself caught between arousal and fear, oblivious to the fact that it was him all along.

Pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

General tags : SMUT, 18+, Dark Fic

Trigger Warnings: Masturbating, Fingering, Dubious Consent, Magic

Words : 3.2k (shortest fic I've ever written lol)

A/N : Well, that shadow scene had us all on a chokehold, and, of course, I couldn't resist writing another one for it. Thank you @holabicth for the request once again!

The door closed behind Loki with a quiet thud. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Loki said, stepping towards the cell that was holding you. "A little mortal, lost in a big, bad world."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, not bothering to move from where you were sitting, cross-legged, against the wall. "You're one to talk." You retorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "Considering you're in the exact same predicament."

"Am I now?" Loki asked, raising his own eyebrow in response. He took another step closer to your cell, looking down at you. You were still sitting there, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. "Because it seems to me, that if I wanted to, I could easily just-" Loki paused as he suddenly appeared inside of your cell, standing in front of you. "Leave."

You rolled your eyes again. "Yeah, yeah. Big deal. You can teleport. Congrats." You muttered, moving to stand up.

Loki put his foot out and kicked your shoulder, forcing you to stay sitting on the floor. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" Loki asked, bending over slightly to look at you.

You turned your head to the side to glare up at him, and then brought your fist forward to hit him right in the groin. Loki gasped, taking a step back, and then groaned in pain, leaning forward slightly. You were surprised he didn’t see that coming or it was really him instead of some kind of projection.

"Yeah, I said you're a fucking dickhead." You snapped, using the wall to help you stand. Loki groaned in response, still doubled over in pain. You walked around him and stepped out of the cell, turning around to face him. "Have fun rotting away in there." You smirked, waving at him as the cell's walls started to close in around him.

Loki's head shot up as the walls moved closer. "No! Wait!" He shouted, but it was too late. The walls closed in on him, making him press up against the glass.

You sighed and shook your head, turning around to head for the elevator. "Y/N!" Loki shouted, his voice slightly muffled by the cell walls. "You can't leave me like this!"

"And why not?" You asked, not even bothering to turn around. You reached the elevator and stepped inside, pushing the button for the lobby.

"Because, if you leave me here, I'll die!" Loki shouted, his hands and face pressing against the glass.

"And why should that concern me?" You asked, pausing the doors from closing.

Loki groaned and banged on the glass, "You will pay for this!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "Bye! Have fun rotting away, dickhead!" With an almost nonchalant wave, you watched as the elevator doors slowly closed, leaving him alone in the dimly lit cell.

The dull hum of the descending elevator mingled with Loki's muffled protests, creating a haunting symphony of abandonment as you left him behind.

You were heading towards the door, ready to get out of this place, when you stopped. 'Should I really just leave him here?' You thought to yourself, sighing as you turned around. 'Oh, fuck it. Might as well make the most of this.'

Years after what happened you managed to escape from that prison, you were a free woman and no one could hold you back, even though they were trying. You had your freedom, and no one could take it away. You moved to a new country, changed your identity to make you unrecognizable and it worked. No one had recognized you.

Life was good, and started your life anew, forgetting all about your past. You were finally happy, and everything was going great.

But it felt surreal, you still could feel his hands on your body. You were starting to panic, wondering what was happening, you couldn't understand it. You didn't drink tonight, and you were sure you were sober when you went to bed, so this didn't make any sense.

One night when you were sleeping, you were dreaming of making out with a guy, his face was blurry so you didn't know who it was. His hands were touching all the right places, and you were getting into the moment, his lips felt amazing against yours. But then he was kissing your neck and you realized you could feel everything, the warmth of his tongue, the roughness of his stubble, the tickle of his breath.

His hand moved lower to your collarbone and down to your breast, and you were enjoying it. The guy seemed to know what he was doing, when suddenly, he squeezed a little harder, causing you to moan in surprise. It felt so real, that you were starting to think that you weren't dreaming, and that someone was in your room, touching you.

"Do you like that, Y/N?" The guy whispered and bit your earlobe making you shiver.

That made your eyes shot open and you sat up in shock. Looking around, you saw no one there. Your room was pitch black, except for a small ray of light coming from under the door. You must have been dreaming. But it felt so real. "Did I dream it or someone is really here?" You wondered, but couldn't find anything.

You looked down and saw that you were sweating and you could see your hardened nipples poking through your tank top. You saw your tank top was ridden up just like the guy did in your dream.

You pulled your shirt back down, and laid down again. The whole time you couldn't shake the feeling that someone was touching you. It felt surreal, you still could feel his hands on your body. You were starting to panic, wondering what was happening, you couldn't understand it. You didn't drink tonight, and you were sure you were sober when you went to bed, so this didn't make any sense.

Even though, you were panicking, your mind drifted to the man in your dream. How he knew your name, and how hot he sounded. You didn't understand how a dream could be so vivid and detailed.

You were getting turned on, the feeling of his lips on yours, and the way his hands were on your body. You didn't even know who this guy was, and you were already starting to masturbate. you felt embarrassed thinking about what you were dreaming about, and how wet you were. You didn't even know what time it was, but you felt like you needed to take care of yourself before you went back to sleep.

You started to slide your hands up and down your body, the feeling of his lips and stubble still lingering on your neck. You were so wet, the only thing that could satisfy right now was your fingers.

"Mmmm..." You moaned, as you imagined his face looking down at you, while his hands were touching you.

You were close to an orgasm, and you felt like you were going crazy. The pleasure felt unreal.

"Ohhhh... fuck," You whispered as you came.

You laid there for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath. You felt exhausted, but you couldn’t go back to sleep. You felt weird and confused, wondering what the hell was wrong with you. You shrugged it off, maybe it was nothing, and just got up from the bed, ready to start the day.

You didn't realize that this was only the beginning of the things that will happen, and that everything was only getting started.

"What a fucking asshole!" You grumbled angrily, kicking a trashcan, which sent the garbage flying. It didn't help that a group of kids were watching you and laughing at your anger.

"What did the trashcan ever do to you?" One kid asked, his friends giggling in the background. You turned your glare towards them, and the kids stopped laughing. They slowly backed away and ran off, not wanting to face your wrath.

You sighed and shook your head, turning back to the sidewalk. You were supposed to be at work, but you were late and had a pretty good excuse, a.k.a. the fact that some asshole had decided to break into your house and steal your car.

"Stupid car. Stupid, fucking asshole." You muttered, continuing to walk down the street. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." You groaned and shook your head, running your hands through your hair.

You stopped and looked at the building across the street. 'Maybe I can call someone to pick me up? Like my parents?' You thought to yourself, shaking your head and laughing. "They probably won't answer anyway. Because I’m dead to them.’ You muttered, sighing as you crossed the street, heading for the building.

At work, you were still mad about your car being stolen, and were wondering how long it would take for the police to notice and return it to you. You couldn’t focus on your job. "Y/N, get back to work!" Mr. D's stern voice cut through your thoughts, and you reluctantly tore your gaze away from the cereal box in your hands. Sighing heavily, you nodded in acknowledgment.

"Sorry, Mr. D. Won't happen again," you mumbled, mustering a forced smile.

It had been couple of days since your car got stolen and you hadn’t received any information from the police, making you taking the bus from getting and going off from work. You were always late because of the traffic and your boss wasn't happy that you were late, and even threatened to fire you if you were late again. It wasn't your fault though, but no one would listen. You were pissed off and wanted to punch someone.

Days had passed since the incident, and the absence of any information from the police gnawed at your patience. Forced to rely on buses to commute, you found yourself consistently late due to the unpredictability of traffic. Your boss, oblivious to your tardiness, had threatened to fire you if you were late again.

It wasn't your fault, you were a victim of circumstances beyond your control. The injustice of it all made your blood boil, and the temptation to vent your frustration physically lingered at the edges of your consciousness. Yet, you held back, knowing that punching someone wouldn't solve anything.

As you continued stacking cans on the shelves, the rhythm of your movements betrayed the underlying tension. Each clink of metal against metal mirrored the ticking clock, a constant reminder of the stolen moments and the stolen car that dangled over your daily existence.

Suddenly, you slammed a can onto the shelf, drawing the attention of everyone around. Some flinched, eyes turning towards you. "Sorry, sorry. Just having a rough day. No need to look at me like that." you apologized, and the customers resumed their activities.

Your daily routine had become a struggle since the loss of your car. Apologies became a routine, just like the late hours you now kept. Affording a new vehicle was out of the question. The bus stop was distant from your apartment, pushing you to discover a shortcut through a creepy alley a couple of days ago. You didn't trust the alley, but you had no choice, you a quicker route home.

So, there you were, standing outside the alley, contemplating if it was a good idea or not. It was scary and dark, and you didn't know what was in there. You gulped and stepped into the alley, deciding to just suck it up and go through. You didn't want to walk all the way to your apartment building, and this was faster.

"Fuck it" you muttered to yourself, you prepared taser gun and pepper spray, and slowly walked into the alley. You were tense, and felt your heart beat faster, but you told yourself that everything would be alright. The alley wasn't very long, so you were relieved, but that feeling quickly left when you heard a sound behind you.

Turning around, you saw only homeless people, nothing out of the ordinary. "Probably just rats or something," you thought, attempting to calm your nerves. The rest of the walk remained uneventful. As you exited the alley, you sighed in relief, continuing your journey towards the apartment building.

You walked through that alley a couple more times since that day, and nothing unusual ever happened, but today, you felt as if someone was watching you, so you decided to look behind you.

But no one was in sight, not even the homeless people. You found it a bit odd but decided to ignore it and focusing on getting home. "Probably imagining it, it's nothing." You muttered to yourself, as you kept walking faster. You clenched your taser gun tightly, ready to use it in case something did happen.

You heard footsteps approaching but when you turned around there was no one. You froze, your breath caught in your throat. You clenched your taser gun, the only weapon you had with you, and quickened your pace.

You heard it again, it sounded closer, but still far away. You slowly turned around, trying to keep calm, but you couldn't. The noise started again, this time closer, and louder. You spun around, holding the gun up and ready to fire. But no one was there.

Suddenly you were being pulled back and slammed into the wall behind you, and then you were being choked. Your eyes widened as you struggled against the grip, your hands pulling at the hand around your neck.

Your hands were suddenly being stretched apart, the gun falling out of your grip and clattering to the ground. Your legs flailed, your lungs desperate for air, but the hand stayed firm. No one was there, you didn't know what was happening. You were scared, no one was there, you didn’t know who or what attacked you.

Your vision started to fade, and everything was starting to get darker and darker. Right before everything faded away, the grip on your throat was released. You were coughing and gasping for air. You were still bound against the wall, not knowing what was going on. You looked around, and saw no one, no one except shadows on the wall.

"Who are you?" You asked, your voice hoarse from the lack of air. There was no response, and you felt like someone was there, but you didn't see anyone. "This isn't funny!" You spoke to whoever or something. You didn't believe in ghost, never did. You didn't think you were going crazy. You just assumed it was just your mind playing tricks on you, making you hallucinate.

"Show yourself!" You growled, trying to act tough. Still no response. "Fuck off. Leave me alone!" You grumbled, and kicked the wall behind you, but your legs hit nothing. Your brows furrowed, and you were confused. But you could feel something restraining you, and it was solid. You tried moving again, but the invisible force held you tightly.

As realization dawned, you discerned the silhouette of a shadow adorned with menacing horns that clung to you. "What the fuck!" you exclaimed.

"To make you mine." A deep voice spoke, echoing throughout the alley. You felt shivers down your spine, and fear creeped its way inside of you. You didn't understand what was happening. Your breathing was ragged, and you felt yourself become panicked.

Then you felt something caressing your legs as if a hand was slowly travelling up the length of them. You tried to struggle but the bounds held you tight, you were completely powerless. Your breath hitched when you felt fingers brush against the skin between your thighs and up.

Your legs were being forced open, "Ah! What are you doing!?" You shouted, not knowing what was happening as a finger slowly rubbed against your pussy.

"Stop!" You shouted, still struggling against the binds. But the thing didn't listen and was suddenly rubbed your clit, your hips involuntarily jerked at the sensation, and a small moan escaped your mouth.

"W-What is happening?" You whimpered, the fear mixed with pleasure was overwhelming. Your head fell back against the wall and a louder moan left your lips, you wanted to stop it, but you couldn't, and it felt too good.

You tried to focus on anything but the sensations, and you heard someone whisper something, but you couldn't understand what was being said. You tried to listen, but it was useless. The hand between your legs slipped into your panties and started to rub at your folds. The pleasure was too intense, and you cried out, your whole body trembling.

"Fuck." You breathed, and tried to control your breathing, but it was hard. Your whole body was shaking, and your mind was blank. You couldn't believe you were getting turned on by being assaulted by an unknown entity, but you were. "No! Stop it!" You struggled, the thing didn't stop.

You felt the shadow enter you as if a finger inserted itself into you, "Ah!" You moaned, you could feel the finger moving inside you, thrusting in and out of you. "N-no, stop."

The finger kept going in and out of you, then another joined it, making you moan and gasp. Your moans filled the empty alley, the sound of your moans echoed off the walls, but the pleasure you were feeling was great.

Then the fingers were removed, and then a hand was wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. You gasped and tried to pull the hand away, but the hand was unmovable. The finger kept going in and out of you, then another joined it, making you moan and gasp.

Fuck, why did a shadow could make you feel so good? The fingers kept moving in and out of you and a third joined, stretching you further. You were feeling too good, too aroused. You didn't even try to get away from it anymore. You couldn't believe you were turned on by a ghost or whatever this shadow-like creature.

"Yes! Yes! Ah!" You moaned. Your body felt hot, really hot. Your heart was racing, pounding against your chest, it was a good thing that no one could see you like this, getting fingered by a ghost.

You moaned again as the fingers thrusting in and out of you increased in speed, they were going fast. You wanted to scream, shout, moan, but you were only able to do one of them. "Yes! Ah! YES!" You screamed as your climax neared, "F-faster! Fuck me faster! Make me come!"

The fingers kept moving in and out of your dripping entrance and they increased their pace, fucking you faster and faster, your screams were louder.

"Yes! I'm cumming!" You screamed and arched your back as your orgasm hit, your juices ran down to your thighs, the fingers slowed down, letting you ride out your orgasm.

Then the fingers were gone, the sensation disappeared. The shadow finally released its grip, and you collapsed to the ground. You were left there, breathing hard, and confused. “What the fuck was that?” You talked to yourself.

While still trying to make sense of what just happened, you noticed two feet in front of you. Looking up, your eyes met Loki's. Suddenly, he seized your hair, compelling you to stand. "You!" you hissed, but he remained silent, his grip tightening.

A smirk played on his lips, and his eyes glowed with an unsettling green hue. Frustration and anger welled up within you as you attempted to retaliate, yet his hand held you firmly. "All this time, it was you, wasn't it? You were the one who assaulted me while I was sleeping, weren’t you?" you spat, your glare fixed on him.

He offered no response, only a sinister smirk, and then everything went black.

#loki laufesyon x reader #loki x reader smut #loki x reader fic #loki x y/n #loki x you #marvel fic #shadow play #loki season 2

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choicesficwriterscreations · 1 month

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We Want Your Opinions!

Hello! With the PB Choices fandom shrinking/changing, we thought it would be a good time to do some reassessment. Your answers will help the mods decide how to manage the blog going forward. This survey will be open from Sunday, March 17th through Saturday, March 30th. We thank you in advance for participating!

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#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices #pixelberry choices #blades of light and shadow #open heart choices #the royal romance #crimes of passion #it lives series #immortal desires #nightbound #wake the dead #perfect match #the elementalists #choices fic writers creations #cfwc #cfwc surveys

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grishaverse-chaos · 4 months

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hmmm something about dominik haunting the narrative in king of scars. everything nikolai does is at least a little bit for him. he learns about the life of average ravkan people by meeting dominik's family. he starts gaining influence in politics just so he can improve dominik's life. and then he promises dominik that he won't let ravka break him.

that promise fucking haunts him. it follows him wherever he goes. it's the driving force behind everything he does, every step he takes to heal the centuries-old wounds in ravka. it's what drives him to do better, be better.

dominik is always there, in the back of his mind: this country gets you in the end. always pushing him to do more, because he couldn't save dominik and so he has to save ravka (for dominik) (because he promised) (because he loved him)

#my spicy hot take is that nikolai's relationship with dominik actually affects the narrative of the duology more than -#- his relationship with zoya does #you could argue that *none* of the events of the duology would have happened without dominik's influence #and honestly zoyalai as a relationship doesn't really affect the narrative/plotline all that much #which is One of the problems i have with it being endgame #anyway yes i am writing an angsty nikolai backstory fic why do you ask?#it's mostly about how he reinvents himself at every minor inconvenience (but also how incredibly fucked up his childhood was)#and if i have the energy it might turn into a rewrite of the ending of rule of wolves #bc him giving up the throne just plays into that pattern of running away #so honestly i think it's not a great ending in terms of his arc and character development #this may just be a me thing idk but i just feel like he doesn't actually get that much development in the duology #bc there's this idea of him as being Perfect and Invulnerable and Not Affected By His Trauma #which. is not the case.#it's all very dear reader (taylor swift) imo #ANYWAY #mayhem.txt #mayhem grishaverse originals #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #king of scars #grishaverse

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dollsuguru · 2 months

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starting my curator!geto fic officially now! <3

#really want it to sound artistic bc obvi he’s an artist/art curator so i HOPE that comes through 😭#also finally got the name of the fic down! i was lamenting for ages bc i couldn’t think of anything that was art-inspired #and then i listened to a song and in the lyrics… There It Was… shining like a beacon of light <3 #(funny bc the name has ‘shadow’ in it)#also by alter-ego you’ll see what i mean once i write more of the fic i promise that part will make sense 😭#kenjaku exists in this fic almost like an Entity he’s not actually a person in this fic #it’s a no-curses au! just wanted to play w different facets of suguru’s personality is all :3 #why aren’t tags saving #oh now you save you bitch.#ANYWAYS.#editing me here: i’m already reworking this intro so it’s more descriptive and less choppy #but it’s hard bc i wanna use a bunch of descriptors but i don’t want it to be CLUNKY 😭 intro is beating my ASS rn #kenjaku has me against the ropes 😩🫦#ignore the lipbite or don’t… but omfg… maybe I’M the tortured artist 😳😳😳 suguru step aside #double edit: the newer vision is so much better omfg i’m kinda gagged…#snippets #personal

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starlight-starfury · 4 months

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Under Starlit Boughs

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Characters: (F!Elf!MC) Raine Nightbloom x Tyril Starfury

Rating: General

Warnings: None, but I’ll warn you it’s unapologetically sappy 😅

Length: 2k

Summary: After talking about the old parties of legend, the Fae realise they finally have cause to throw one of their own.

Tags: @liviusofpella @watatsumi-island @inlocusmads @lilyoffandoms @brycesgirl @sophie-summer @lancelotsimp @megas-choices @princess-geek @julia-highstorms @citrusdarling @mavidraws @lover-also-fighter-also @otakudreamer @stars-are-within-me @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @camillyohfreire @mindlesschicca @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @choicesficwriterscreations (tagging everyone who interacted with this post, if anyone wants to be added to the tag-list permanently please let me know! I’ll be making a post about it in a few days as well 💜)

A/N: Because we deserved a cute Whimsywood date 🫶

A song of laughter echoed in the air as everyone sat crowded together under the shade of the pearl petal tree, telling stories and sharing fruits that tasted of sweet mallow and fine dew.

Even the forest seemed to find wonder in the joyous occasion as the trees sent forth a gentle breeze, causing the flowering boughs above to sway and the soft petals to cascade down around the storytellers like light rainfall.

As the Fae reminisced over tales passed down from their ancestors about the Light realm, questions began to arise, and Tyril spoke. “Stories of your parties have become legend in our world. What were they really like?”

“That was long before I sprouted,” the Fae Elder answered, silent throughout the conversation but now smiling fondly at the memory. “But I heard the tales from my elders. They spoke of intricate fashion, delectable foods and wine that tasted of Light.”

“You mean to say, you’ve never thrown one yourselves?” Raine asked.

Willow shook their head. “Very few of us remain, and we’ve no cause to celebrate of late. Not with Shadow lurking so close.”

“Of course you do!” She said. “You’ve been trapped in the shadow realm for centuries, isn’t returning to your homeland worth celebrating?”

The Fae whispered and hummed amongst themselves for a moment, their murmurs like the faint rustling of leaves amid the forest undergrowth before they leapt to their feet enthusiastically.

“Raine is right!” Willow declared, beaming. “Let us all rejoice. To returning to the realm of Light, and to honour our new friends who will help ward our forest from the Shadow!”

The glade seemed to thrum with excitement as everyone stood and the Fae began making their preparations. Raine made her way over to Tyril, who had leant against one of the ancient trees and was gazing around at the magical clearing, awestruck.

“I see some things never change,” she grinned. “I’m glad you finally got to meet the Fae, Tyril.”

A smile touched his lips as she reached his side. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

He nodded back to the forest, where multicoloured orbs of light drifted through the air like fireflies. “It’s incredible that a place so vibrant and full of life can exist in a world such as this.”

Raine looked towards the enchanted scenery, admiring how the trees seemed to bend and dip their branches in greeting to the Fae as they walked past, and how the glowing flowers bloomed in clusters like starlit nebulae below. It made her mind drift back to the Deadwood, the decayed forest merely remnants of a distant memory compared to the magical sight before her.

“Well,” she said at last, “if all this travelling has taught me anything, it’s that beauty often thrives in chaos.”

Tyril’s eyes softened as his gaze shifted to her new attire. She looked like a forest nymph or woodland goddess in the sylvan dress, woven of emerald silk and flowing gossamer that shimmered like dappled sunlight alongside the entwined branches climbing across her fair skin. A crown of leaves was nestled in her hair, and her eyes shone violet as the wisteria blossoms above.

“It does, indeed.” His smile was tender as he reached up to gently cup her cheek and she swayed into his touch, his words a faint whisper against her skin. “Even the stars envy the brightness at which you shine.”

His sentiments were proven true as she beamed under his praise, but before she could answer him the Fae returned to the clearing all at once, and the moment was disturbed like ripples spreading across the surface of a tranquil pond.

“Come, come!” Willow beckoned, and the group reconvened beneath the pearl petal tree once more.

Raine noticed some of the Fae were holding instruments, elegant wooden flutes with budding sprouts that appeared to have been carved from the branches of a fallen tree.

“Is this one of your traditions?” She asked.

“Yes!” Tansy clapped. “The Fae Circle is one of our oldest celebrations, with much music and dancing!”

“Hang on, a Fae Circle?” Mal said before turning to the rest of the group, voice hushed. “Are you sure this isn’t just a trick to keep us here forever?”

“Mal!” Nia scolded. “Don’t be rude!”

“What, haven’t you heard the legends? Mortals who entered a Fae circle were never seen again.”

Imtura followed his gaze pointedly towards where a series of petrified faces were engraved in the bark of a large tree. “…Those aren’t just carvings, are they?”

Willow’s large eyes saddened, a swirling mist shimmering within the dark pupils. “They came to harm our forest, but the trees are our home and family. They would have plucked us from the soil one by one and uprooted everything!”

Raine leant in to whisper to Tyril. “Is all of this true?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ve said before that the Fae are made of magic down to their very essence. That power can become wild and unrestrained if provoked, and it sounds as though they’ve been a target in the shadow realm for some time.”

The nearby Fae’s ears began to droop as Willow continued speaking. “We try to strengthen our roots and bloom despite our hardships, but the trees cast a heavy shadow, and our numbers grow smaller still.”

Raine frowned. “You won’t have to worry about that in the Light realm, we’ll make sure no one harms your forest.”

Willow’s eyes brightened once more at her encouragement. “We cannot thank you enough! Please understand, the Fae Circle is an act of joy and all will be safe. And since you have come to help us, the forest will always remember you as friends.”

Tansy nodded. “The trees also like it when we play music to them, their boughs are always lighter and their leaves shine bright.”

“How does the Fae Circle start?” Tyril asked, and those holding instruments sat themselves upon the grass, lifting their flutes as they began playing a delicate yet jubilant tune.

“Everyone must stand in a circle around the tree and hold hands!” Willow said cheerfully, and Raine smiled as Tyril entwined his fingers with hers.

The rest of the Fae were the ones who began leading the dance, and the others quickly picked up the unfamiliar steps. It wasn’t long before everyone found themselves spinning and twirling around the pearl petal tree in unison.

Laughter filled the air once more, and the sweet petals drifted down around them as though joining in the dance as well until everyone was rosy-cheeked and breathless.

The celebration carried on through brief respites, sharing refreshing drinks between dances and telling stories both old and new. For once, both the realms were united in their joy, and together they could help the Fae create a brighter future for their people, and for each other.

When all the air had escaped her lungs, Raine wandered towards the edge of the glade to catch her breath. It wasn’t long until Tyril found his way to her side, and together they both sat down on a fallen, moss-covered log.

She looked up to where the branches of the great trees parted to reveal the vast night sky, an expanse of darkness that seemed impenetrable by even the brightest light, unusually empty and bare.

“There are no stars here,” she murmured. Without them, the sky felt hollow, like a canvas lying blank. No famed hero’s legacies lied etched across the surface, no constellations adorned the sky shimmering with stories still untold, no glimmer of hope was to be found in the endless dark that stretched on eternal.

“Then we make our own.” Tyril said, before he cupped his hands and little motes of starlight drifted from his fingers into the air. The colourful specks hovered there for a moment, emitting a soft glow that pulsed in unison with the rhythm of their beating hearts before rising up to settle themselves among the lush branches.

“They’re beautiful.” She smiled and they both sat quietly for a moment, feeling more at ease in a realm full of chaos and uncertainty while in each other’s presence, watching as the lights twinkled softly above.

“Do you find it strange? Seeing a sky without them?” Raine asked.

He nodded slowly. “In Undermount we revere the stars, our very existence is mirrored in their being. The history of our people is written among them, with each great victory and tragedy carved into the constellations like a woven tapestry to display all we have been through, and all that is to come.”

Tyril lifted his gaze past the tree branches. “To imagine a place without their existence feels…wrong.”

She looked down, subconsciously beginning to rub her wrist. The skin where her bindings had been was red and raw, another reminder that she had allowed herself to be captured, that she had been weak.

A frown creased his expression as he glanced at her hands, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. “None of us blame you for what happened.”

“And what if I blame myself?” She whispered, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “Everyone went through so much because of me, especially you…”

Raine trailed off as he slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing soft kisses to the inside of her wrist, each brush of his lips lighter than a butterfly’s wings.

She dipped her head as her cheeks flushed light pink, warming under his gaze before he pulled her into his arms and she leant her head to rest against his shoulder.

He murmured into her hair. “I couldn’t protect you last time and I…I blamed myself every day you were gone because of it.”

“Tyril…” she frowned. “None of that was your fault.”

“I know, but that does not change the fact that I failed you.” His eyes filled with sorrow as he traced a finger along her jaw, tilting her chin to look at him. “Every day my heart ached for your return. To see you again, even if you were but a fragment of a dream…”

She let the tears fall as she pressed her lips softly to his, overcome by emotion as she ran her fingers through his raven hair, longer than she remembered. His kiss held all his heartache and remorse from that painful year before he leant back, resting his forehead against her own.

They stayed that way until a softer tune began to play from the more lively part of the forest, and Raine threaded her fingers through his. “May I?”

“Always,” he smiled as she led him to his feet, the two of them alone in their own section of the woods. “Do you remember the first time we did this?”

“Danced?” She asked, and a pleasant night breeze surrounded them as Tyril guided her into position. “You mean at the masquerade?”

He nodded. “Sometimes that feels like a lifetime ago, as though everything has changed since then.”

“And yet, nothing at all.” She said, her voice quiet and tinged with sorrow.

His gaze was far away for a moment before he looked back towards her once more. “Never mind that now, all that matters is having you back in my arms.”

“And there's no place I'd rather be,” she smiled.

He spun her into a graceful twirl before pulling her back in close, and they swayed together gently as the song slowly faded into the next.

They danced until Raine found herself backed against one of the grand oak trees, and when she looked up she could still see the little stars Tyril had summoned earlier hovering among the branches, some of them twinkling as though they were shooting across the sky.

“I like having our own little universe,” she said, and the bark was rough against her fingertips as he leaned in for a kiss once again, like a blazing star that would sooner collapse than part from her touch.

“The night sky is ours,” he assured, and the rest of the forest seemed to melt away under his embrace, until it was just the two of them dancing beneath their stars above.

#may i provide some fluff in these trying times (ch18 aftermath)#choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #blades of light and shadow #tyril starfury #tyril x mc #raine nightbloom #tyril x raine #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play

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lilacthebooklover · 3 months

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when i say i'm obsessed with drawing possessed pure vanilla, i'm not kidding. i have six folded-up sheets composed of today's 300+ doodles of him and shadow milk in my pocket. i have a problem

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liviusofpella · 7 months

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Starry Night

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord Weasley of Riverbend, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reyna's brows furrowed. "Fan?"

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

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

"Weren't you afraid?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t call me that.”

“How about Rey of Sunshine?”

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

“Reiny?”

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

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

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

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

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

Tyril cut in, blushing. “Stop talking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It takes one to know one, thief.”

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled. “I suppose.”

“Thank you for trying.”

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

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

“Oh! What’s the occasion?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tyril, are you alright?"

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

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

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

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

"Do you do that often? Meditate?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you asleep?"

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

“I want to cut my hair.”

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

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

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

"Are you certain?"

"Just do it."

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

“Calanín, what’s troubling you?”

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

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

#tyril starfury #tyril x mc #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow 2 #choices blades #choices bolas #blades 2 #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices tyril #nia ellarious #mal volari #choices nia #choices mal #cfwc #cfwc fics of the week #choices book club #choices fic writers creations

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gacha-every · 2 months

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HOW DO YA'LL DOWNLOAD SONIC PRIME SEASON 3 EPISODES?!?!

Reason? Uhh MAINLY THEM—

I WANNA EDIT 'EM SO BAD ToT

#sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #sonic prime netflix #tails nine #miles nine prower #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #THE ULTIMATE SONINE- I mean- SONIC AND NINE HUG MAN T∆T #MAKES ME WANNA WRITE FIC OF IT IN NINE'S POV AND EPILOGUE BRUH–#Anyway tell me or don't tell know or don't know #I just wanna express by bid of Sonic Prime Season 3 like how I did with Season 2 by making tik tok edits of 'em #OR a compilation of Sontails/Sonine moments cus BOI SEASON 3 WAS WILD #LIKE BRUH “Shadow thinks he can take Sonic away from me? Not a chance” COME ON #SONIC KNEELED ON ONE KNEE IN FRONT OF NINE LIKE HE WAS GONNA PROPOSE?! SHIPKWHBP #Was it just me or did it seem like Shadow and Nine were playing tug of war for Sonic or something–#WAS IT JUST ME THE WAY NINE LOOKED UP AND DOWN AT SONIC YO?!–#i can't anymore #sonic prime season 3 #gacha every update #sonine #sontails #rant #rant in tags #gacha every rant

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sparrowmoth · 10 months

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"It wasn't a bomb, Jes, it was a minor contact explosion. I think you're being a bit dramatic."

"Me?" said Jesper, clearly affronted. "Me?" he repeated, waving his arms at Wylan, who could do little more than lean slightly away from him in the narrow space. "I'm being dramatic?" He scoffed, then shifted a step back to gesture at the shattered porcelain, cracked tiles, and scorched wall in the tight corner at his right. "You blew up our toilet over a spider..."

Wylan crossed his arms and turned away, cheeks red. "It was self-defence," he mumbled. "It bit me in the—" He stopped abruptly, cheeks impossibly redder as his eyes dropped to the floor. "Never mind. I just needed to make sure it was..."

Jesper raised an eyebrow. "Dead?" he suggested, but Wylan didn't answer. He was staring at something in the rubble, breathing starting to quicken. Jesper followed his gaze and saw it just as Wylan all but tackled him into the wall in a bid to reach the door: there was a large brown spider emerging, seemingly unscathed, from between a pile of broken floor tiles.

"Saints, all that and you didn't even manage to kill it?" Jesper called after Wylan, who'd gone scrambling down the hallway. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then regarded the spider with a tilt of his head. "Doesn't seem fair that I'd kill you now after what you've survived, so come on, hurry up..." Jesper got down on his knees and reached a hand out for the spider to climb on. "Let's get you outside before my dearly beloved can get his hands on more explosives..."

#wesper #flash fanfic #written for the wesper fic club #cross-posting here #because I haven't written anything in weeks due to being on vacation so I'm shocked this went past a couple sentences lol #shadow and bone #six of crows #my fanfiction #my writing #my drabbles #anyway yeah I headcanon that Wylan is an arachnophobe #because he grew up in a nice clean shiny house with maids #whereas Jesper grew up playing in the dirt and I'm so sure both his parents taught him to be friendly toward bugs <3 #which is so valid #couldn't be me but it's valid

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freedomatwhatcosttfp · 3 months

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Chapter 1: A Celebration Before the Change of History

...NOW APPROACHING KAON: NORTH ENTRANCE...

P4X onlined his optics and prepared to navigate through the crowded station. It wouldn't be easy, as his build was much smaller than most mechs. Nevertheless, he managed to squeeze through the cramped doors and narrowly missed being knocked over by two large industrial mechs making their way to the monorail. Venting a sigh of relief as he made it to the main entrance, he took a moment to analyze the area. Alpha Trion hadn't told him where to go or even WHO he was exactly supposed to investigate. He suddenly heard a loud roaring-like noise off in the distance.

Startled, he looked around for where the noise had come from- "HEY WATCH IT!". P4X suddenly found himself on the ground after being shoulder-checked by a large, older mech. P4X was about to tell this mech to 'frag himself' when suddenly something clicked in his CPU and painfully took over. He watched himself get up onto his knees and bow his helm. He watched disgusted with himself as he deeply apologized to the mech for being in the way. Said mech nearly scoffed and walked away, grumbling something about "fraggin'...pit-forsaken bootleg..". P4X muttered his own profanities when that feeling suddenly clicked again. "AGH! Frag! every time!" he muttered, massaging his helm in pain. He looked up and saw that a few bots passing him by were giving him weird looks and decided that he should get up and keep moving. He let out an exhausted sigh for what seemed the hundredth time that day and decided to move towards the large commotion. He found himself following a crowd of mechs and femmes cheering as they walked over to what looked to be a large arena. In front of the main entrance, he saw tons of cybertronians gathered around something or someone.

P4X weaved in and out of the crowd towards the center to better hear and investigate and after squeezing through the last of the mechs, he found what he was looking for..

"FELLOW KAONIANS! IT IS MY PLEASURE TO GREET YOU AFTER ANOTHER GREAT VICTORY IN THE ARENA!" The mechs and femmes around him cheered greatly, raising their clenched servos to the sky. P4X backed up a bit to stay away from the edge of the crowd so as not to draw attention to himself but kept his optics on the mech before him. He was a larger build, had broad spiked shoulders, and the great cannon attached to his arm guard screamed gladiator as confirmed by his statement. Said mech watched the crowd, scanning the attendants before starting his speech.

He spoke with such power yet with no demanding tone. Speaking about the corruption in the higher class and the council itself to which P4X rolled his optics but silently agreed. He listened to everything the mech before he said, noting his main points, his mannerisms, and anything that might be worth reporting. Then he mentioned something, something that truly struck his spark. "We should be equal! We are all built of the same material, born the same way, and flow with the same energon as everyone else but the council has decided that where we come from defines us as a whole!" P4X unconsciously took a step forward. Could it be? Someone who truly sees the world as how it is, how it could be, and most importantly, who he could be? "I am truly grateful to have the support of all my fellow Kaonians and any allies who have joined us today. Once we have the council's attention, I shall make a case and fight to change our world for the better!" The yelling and cheering sounded like a distant blur to P4X as he continued to walk a step or two forward, not realizing how far he had stepped away from the crowd.

Meanwhile, the mech giving the speech realized that some of the crowd was not looking at him and paused his speech. He looked towards where a good chunk of the crowd was looking and only then noticed a smaller bot approaching from the crowd. He couldn't see much of them as they were covered in an old cloak but could tell they were staring at him. The bot themself looked very out of place. They had a much smaller build than the bots in the area and from what he could tell, his facial features did not resemble any traits from the area. He snapped out of his thoughts when his friend pinged his comm, asking why he stopped. He looked from his friend to the bot standing before him pointedly and decided to confront them. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked as he stepped down and approached the silent bot before him.

P4X had completely stopped paying attention to his surroundings as the mech before him spoke. He had never thought once about the possibility of confronting the council or even..freeing himself. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the numerous stares or the mech approaching him. It wasn't until he was towering over P4X that he snapped out of his thoughts and realized the situation he was in. Not only had he disobeyed Alpha Trion by being seen, but now he had the attention of the crowd AND the inspirational mech before him. He caught himself staring at the mech, scanning over his facial features and the little details that made the mech before him look so...wait what?

"...Hello? Are you alright?" he asked as he waved his servo in front of the smaller mech's face to hopefully gain his attention. P4X jumped slightly as he was snapped out of his thoughts and felt his face plates heating up. " Uh..u-uh yes! I am alright!" he tried to get out, his voice betraying him as he tried to stay calm. The only social interaction he had for a long time was receiving orders from Alpha Trion and now...everyone was staring at him! The mech before him must have sensed his panic as he decided to conclude his speech. The crowd chatted aimlessly and some whispered about P4X as they dispersed. "Why don't you join me and my friend so we can speak more privately?" He asked as he reached out his servo to the smaller mech.

P4X was shocked. He was about to immediately say yes before his orders to report back to Alpha Trion and to not speak with anyone popped into his helm. He tried to fight back his programming, pushing back the coding as hard as he could. This could be his only chance! He grabbed the sides of his helm as the coding pushed back, becoming more painful. He wanted to go with him so bad! He tried to tell him that he wanted to but only got halfway before the code glitched out his voice. The now two mechs before him watched with concern as they had no idea what was going on or what to do. "A-are you alright?" asked the larger mech. "I-i" he tried to reassure him that he was okay when suddenly the code sent what felt like a shock through his CPU and took control. The two mechs watched, even more, concerned as the smaller bot suddenly froze and straightened itself. " I apologize for the disruption but must leave now..." P4X said in a cold, empty voice. The larger mech was about to ask what happened before something stopped him. The small bot had turned around and revealed a red smoothed-over shoulder plating but that is not what caught the large mech's optic. No, it was the mark on his shoulder. It wasn't a common sight to see that mark, rare even as had been made illegal many vorns ago, he still recognized it. He had pointed it out to his friend as they watched the smaller bot walk away.

P4X was yelling at his body, begging it to go back. He knew that if he returned like this, Alpha Trion would know that he had disobeyed his orders and he would never get a chance to escape like this again. He watched dreadfully as his own body began its trek back to the monorail station. The trip there had been long and after the speech, it had started to darken out. He was nearing the entrance to the station when suddenly, he was grabbed by the arm and led away from the station and into a nearby alley. He was backed into a wall and the code seemed to relent in its control as he slipped back into consciousness. Three mechs who looked to resemble dock workers stood before him, blocking his path to the entrance of the alley. "Woah there, what's a pretty little mech doin' in a place like this?" said the yellow mech to his left. "You don' look ta be around 'ere, ya lost?" chimed in the orang mech to his right. The one in the middle, however, a greyish-blue mech approached him and took hold of the hood of his cloak and all but yanked it down. " Naw whatre ya doin' hidin' a pretty lil face like that? I think we got ourselves a lil one from Iacon payin' us a visit" he said as he leaned in closer. P4X pushed himself closer to the wall as he could, they smelled like they had just rolled around in a pool of high-grade energon. "No, I'm not lost and I really need to head back now," he said as he tried to inch closer to the entrance and away from the mech. P4X tried to pull away as the mech hooked his digit under his chin and pulled him closer. " Awe bu' it was 'bout to get fun. Why don't you stay 'ere for a bit befo' the 'rail gets 'ere?" He started to panic, he had no weapons system and all sides of him were blocked in. He panicked even more as they started getting closer-

"There you are!"...Everyone looked towards the entrance of the alley and P4X thought that he was going to drop down on his knees right then and there to sing his praises to Primus. There, stood the mech from the speech earlier. He started to approach the mechs calmly yet with a look that could kill. " I see you have found my friend, is there a problem here?" he said glaring daggers into each mech. "N-No! Everythin's alrigh'! Kept 'im nice an' safe for ya!" said the first mech as all three scampered away and backed out of the alley. "...I'm so sorry about that, are you alright? I hope they didn't ruin your experience in Kaon..." he said checking over the smaller mech. P4X took a few moments to calm down before looking at his savior. He checked to see if he would be able to talk to him without the code getting in his way but it seemed that his panic from earlier caused it to momentarily shut down. He would have long before it started up again and he knew that he would have another chance like this...

"...Yes, I'm alright, thanks to you," he said, straightening himself out. "Well thank Primus I was able to get here in time, I was looking for you actually". P4X stopped and looked at him, he was sure that after his display earlier, he would have thought of him as some psyched-out weirdo. "...y-you were?" he asked disbelieving him. " I was, I wanted, well more so I had a question. Oh, where are my manners, my designation is Megatronus" he said as he once again reached out a servo to greet the small bot. He hesitated, not sure what to do before figuratively saying frag it! and reaching out his servo to the other bot. "Thank you, it is nice to meet you too. You can call me...Pax".

#transformers #orion pax #megatronus #tfp optimus prime #transformers prime #my art #fanfic #vent fic #soundwave #transformers idw #shadow play #kaon

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jerzwriter · 8 months

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Let me preface this by saying it's not all about notes. If notes were of paramount importance to me, I would have been in another fandom and made vastly different decisions with the pairings that I write for. So, it's not about notes… but an observation.

The fandom was already in decline when I joined. In fact, some bigger creators had already left because so many had left. Even so, it was a very different landscape 2 years ago.

Back then, the unwritten rule (as explained to me by a now-gone creator) was 100. If a fic got over 100 notes, it was good; if it was under, it wasn't.

I never put stock in that because I've read phenomenal fics with well under 100 notes. In a fandom that tends to be very transactional and where politics plays a big part in notes, it was never a gauge for me.

But, as the fandom grew smaller, 100 notes became a near impossibility. Many creators have left as a result, and while it's easy to judge, I can understand. It's difficult to put your heart and soul into your work and have it get very little to no interaction. I think those who remain are the diehards; we’re clearly here because we love the content and the community.

That said, I’m curious about what other writers think about the notes they receive today? Is there a number where you say, "OK, it was worth making post-worthy?"

Personally, anything over 50 leaves me giddy these days. lol If it's in the 30 range, I’m content. But it’s funny because I write for Wake the Dead. I know those fics are lucky if they get 20 notes, but it doesn't stop me. I've gotten some of the most self-satisfaction from writing those stories, and having even one enthusiastic reader is so gratifying. So, what about you...

#playcoices #playchoices fanfic #choices the stories you play #choices fanfic #open heart #crimes of passion #the royal romance #bloodbound #immortal desires #red carpet diaries #perfect match #wake the dead #nightbound #desire and decorum #it lives #blades of light and shadow #guenevier #<- Using the fics we've reached most of at CFWC for tags #my polls

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choicesficwriterscreations · 6 months

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CFWC Holidays 2023

If you're like us, you can't believe that it's this time of year already!

Our 2023 Holiday Event will run from November 21, 2023 - January 6, 2024

We want to make this event less structured to allow writers and artists more freedom to create, so while we encourage you to use the prompts provided and hope they'll spur creativity, any seasonal holiday-themed creations can be submitted for this event and contest.

Entrants will be eligible to win one of five prizes this year! 1 - Art commission by @mydemonsdrivealimo 2- Art commission by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd 3- Art commission by @rosefuckinggenius

Details about commission parameters will be provided at a later date.

4 - One participant will be selected as February 2024's Creator of the Month ** 5- One participant will have their MC / OC selected for February 2024's MC / OC of the Month **

Please take a look at the rules for the event, including prize eligibility, below the break.

PROMPTS

Rules for participation:

Any new fic or artwork with a seasonal holiday theme can be submitted. You can use one of the prompts for inspiration, but they aren't required.

If you use one of our prompts, please tell us which one(s) in your author's notes.

Fics of any length can be submitted for the event, but to be eligible for a prize, they must be at least 500 words.

Creation must be based on a Pixelberry Choices story or characters.

Your creation can be cross-tagged with other fandom events. In fact, we encourage you to do this!

To submit your creation to the event, please mention @choicesficwriterscreations on your post and use the tag #cfwc holidays 2023

If your work contains mature or NSFW content, it must be labeled appropriately. Tumblr community labels will be used in our reblog.

Fics must be submitted during the event dates of Tuesday, November 21st through Saturday, January 6th.

All other CFWC rules must be adhered to.

Any work using AI creations will not be accepted.

Each eligible participant can get up to 6 chances to win one of the 5 prizes: 1) You will receive one chance per fic/artwork submitted per week. 2) You can only earn one entry per week (Sunday through Saturday). If you submit two creations in the same week, you will only be given one chance. So spread those creations out!

Prize Eligibility:

A raffle for all five prizes will take place no later than Monday, January 8, 2024. To have your name included in the raffle for prizes, you must:

Submit a fic or artwork that meets the rules of the contest as described above.

You must be following @choicesficwriterscreations

You must follow all other CFWC rules

While everyone is encouraged to participate in this event, the following creators will not be eligible to win art commissions. However, they will be eligible for the February 2024 Creator of the Month and MC / OC of the Month:

CFWC Moderators or Administrators

Anyone who has won a commission from CFWC during the 6 months preceding the raffle date, January 8, 2024.

Please note: Anyone who wins an art commission must share the artwork so it can be shared on our Winner's Gallery.

If you have any questions about this event, please send us an ask or contact @jerzwriter or @cfwcmod-lucy.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices fic writers creations #cfwc holidays 2023 #blades of light and shadow #crimes of passion #it lives anthology #open heart #the royal romance #choices fanfic #choices fanart #writing prompts #art propmpts

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mipwrites · 5 months

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*shuffles into the bathroom* It is WiP Wednesday my dudes

* screeches indiscriminately *

#wip #wip wednesday #mip posting #mip writes #my writing #a court of snow and shadow #acosas #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #i love playing in Az's head #also Sassy Cassian is my favorite Cassian #let it be known

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starlight-starfury · 7 months

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Elhalas

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow

Characters: (F!Elf!MC) Raine Nightbloom x Tyril Starfury

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Fantasy violence, blood, death

Length: ~7k words

Summary: Raine and Tyril must journey to the Land of the Gods in order to defeat an impending threat.

Tags: @lawrencebarkley @watatsumi-island @lilyoffandoms @choicesficwriterscreations

A/N: Part one! This isn’t related to the plot of book two in any way and pretty much stands as its own thing.

She found herself in a world like death.

One where hellfire rained from the heavens, and ash drifted through the air like blackened snow. If there were any gods watching over this realm, then they had abandoned it long ago.

The charred earth splintered beneath her feet with each step she took, the only sign of a land that had once flourished with life but now lied in ruins, having crumbled in the wake of devastation and leaving only a distant memory behind.

Above her, the red sun stared down like a watchful eye, blazing with crimson fire as it followed her every move, as its hellish glow painted the sky in blood.

It had not spared anyone from its ire before, and she would be no different.

A horrific squawk cried from overhead, and through darkened clouds she could make out the faint shadow of a creature’s wings flapping high above. In a burst of flame it emerged from the sky, soaring directly towards her with gnarled claws ablaze.

It almost looked like a drake, though with dark and matted feathers in place of the vivid colours from those she had come to know, and a sharp beak that opened wide to breathe a column of scorching fire in her direction.

She raised her hands to summon her magic in defence, but where sparks of light usually flickered to life upon her fingertips, there was nothing. She was powerless in this place.

Instead she threw her body to the side as the blast sailed overhead, causing a wave of heat to ripple against the dry air. Her fingernails raked against black mud as she struggled to pull herself from the ground, but the drake was faster and she writhed in agony as its claws dug deep into her sides, the sharp talons drawing blood.

Its screeches rang in her ears as it took off to the skies once more, carrying her higher to where the smoke grew thick and putrid, and the acrid stench of sulphur tainted the air.

Below, the rivers of lava wound themselves into a labyrinth, emitting a faint amber glow barely visible through the dense haze. Sharp rocks jutted out of the ground like shards of black glass as the drake descended lower to where the scorched earth began to crack, forming a large fissure down the centre of the land.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as it released its hold on her body, throwing her down into the wide chasm below.

The wind howled past her ears as she fell, its cries slowly morphing into anguished wails the further and faster she plummeted down. Grey rock faded into vast nothingness as darkness took hold, and still she remained falling through a pit of despair.

She didn’t know how much time had passed as minutes and hours merged into an endless blur. With no other options, she made one last attempt at calling for her magic. A final plea for something, anything to happen, for even the tiniest spark to ignite in the dark, but it was hopeless. The Light did not shine on her here.

Just as she thought she would spend an eternity falling to her demise, she hit the ground and tumbled down a hill of ash before rolling onto her back, gasping and unable to move.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was at the bottom of a cavern, the air cold and bleak deep beneath the lava’s surface. A dim glow faintly illuminated the space around her, but its source was weak and fading, and it didn’t offer the same comfort as the warmth she was used to.

She was curious to know where it was coming from, but couldn’t move her neck to follow it. A pool of blood stained the ash beneath her and specks of dust drifted through the air as she took a shaky breath.

All she could do was listen. She heard the faint trickling of water from a crack in the rocks nearby, no doubt tainted like the other remnants of this realm. Somewhere else in the cavern she could hear the sound of iron chains being dragged across the ground, and a pair of heavy footsteps edging closer and closer.

A shadow fell over her crumpled body in the form of two dark wings, slowly unfurling with a cold breeze that sent chills up her spine. Through blurred vision she caught a glimpse of obsidian eyes, harsh and cold as they bore into her own.

Except the figure seemed to see past her, turning instead towards the opening where she watched a young woman follow him further into the cave, and she froze at the sight.

It was her.

Or rather, someone who had once been her, but was now a different person entirely. Her skin was a pale shade of grey, and her eyes were turned pitch black. Dark tears spilled down her cheeks and her voice was laced with a bitter desperation she couldn’t place.

“I did what you asked,” she pleaded. “I sacrificed everything.”

When the winged figure spoke, it was with a voice like the rolling of distant thunder, echoing across the cavern walls and causing the earth beneath to tremble.

“V’eratis vos detrima,” he seethed behind clenched teeth in an ancient language she didn’t recognise nor understand, and a black spear glinted from where it appeared in his grip. “You have outlived your purpose.”

Her corrupted self’s eyes widened as she realised what his words meant. Still, she made no attempt to fight death, offering no resistance as he hurled the weapon towards her.

The sharp point pierced through her heart, embedding itself in the stone walls behind her. From the ground, she watched as her body slumped forward, pinned to the wall with black blood dripping from the hole in her chest.

With a blast of wind that stirred the ash and dust around them, the figure took off to the skies, leaving her alone in the darkness.

She was still paralysed on the ground where she had landed after falling, and her head began to spin as she felt herself fading. Using all the remaining strength she had left, she lifted her head weakly, only to find her corrupted self staring right back at her.

“Who are you?” She whispered, terrified.

The blood fell faster, dripping onto the ground as her gaze locked onto her own. “I’m who you’ll become, if you fail.”

Tendrils of shadow emerged from the darkness, like phantom hands reaching out to wrap themselves violently around her limbs before dragging her down to the depths that awaited below, leaving her real self truly alone in a world gone wrong.

Above, a crimson inferno blazed on the dark horizon.

And soon it would consume her too.

Raine woke with a scream spilling past her lips. Her heart pounded fiercely against her ribcage from where it felt trapped within her chest and a pale sheen of sweat coated her skin, glistening under the moonlight.

She took deep gasps of air, no longer tainted by ash or smoke but instead clean and fresh, filling her lungs with relief. It wasn’t until she felt a pair of warm arms pulling her into their protective embrace that she realised what had happened and where she was.

She was back in Undermount, safe in the chambers she shared with Tyril in the Starfury Manor. He held her close against his chest, his fingers softly stroking her hair as he murmured soothing words she couldn’t hear, her ears still ringing as she slowly adjusted to her surroundings.

There was still a lingering pain in her sides from where the drake’s sharp claws had delved deep into her flesh, and she raised a fist to her mouth as she held back a strangled sob while tossing aside the silken bedsheets.

Each of its talons had been the size of a small dagger embedding themselves into her skin, and despite the pain that thrummed there like the piercing edge of a blade, when she reached for her sides expecting to find jagged lacerations and seeping blood, there was nothing.

She pulled her hand away, taking a shaky breath. There was always nothing. Never so much as a single scratch marring her skin despite the pain that suggested otherwise. She almost wished there was, at least then she’d have evidence that what she had experienced was real, that these horrors didn’t just reside within her mind and were more than just a bad dream.

A hollow cave ached in her chest at the thought. It hadn’t been real, she knew that. But it had felt real, and so was the fear these nightmares left behind. Visions of anguish and suffering so vivid they etched themselves into her memory, haunting her rest whenever she closed her eyes and lurking in the shadows during the day.

She was slowly brought back to her senses as Tyril rubbed small circles into her back with his thumb, his presence alone tethering her to reality once more and guiding her awareness to the present, like an anchor of solace. He ran a hand through her soft curls, tilting her head back slightly. Even illuminated by the silver moonlight her face looked paler and dark shadows rested beneath her eyes, once vibrant but now turned dull with the heaviness of what she had seen.

“They’re getting worse,” he whispered, his brows pulled together in concern. She looked away, but not without guilt stirring in her heart as she did so. “Raine,” he frowned, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “I want to help you, I—” Tyril held his tongue as he realised he was powerless against the situation, and the words died in the back of his throat. I want to help you and I can’t.

He had fought against them before, the battles that were not physical but instead lingered on unseen in the mind. A war that often seemed endless when the adversary knew every weakness to target, striking the gaps in the armour until it finally cracked. If he could fight them for her he would, but they both knew it wasn’t that simple.

Tyril sighed, pulling her even closer into his embrace. “How am I supposed to protect you from what I cannot fight?”

Raine wrapped her arms around his back, looking up to meet his worried gaze. “Just being here is enough.”

He wished it was.

These nightmares had been plaguing her sleep ever since the Dreadlord was defeated, but over the last few weeks they were slowly becoming increasingly more frequent and terrifying. At first, Tyril had tried to console her.

“I have them, too,” he had whispered in the dark when she woke with a pounding heart after they first began. “It’s to be expected, given what we have faced.”

She turned to him, then, the rise and fall of her chest slowing as her breathing steadied once more. “And what are yours?”

He was silent for a moment, and the only sound she could hear was the soft ticking of the pendulum clock in the hallway outside their shared room before he answered her, his voice low. “Losing you.”

Though as her nightmares began to grow more graphic and distressing, Raine wasn’t sure they were just dreams anymore. They were beginning to feel more like a warning she couldn’t heed, her mind whispering obscurities while she slept. It seemed to be her curse as of recent, being tormented by visions she didn’t understand.

All she knew was that in bringing Light to the Realm of Shadow, she had awakened an ancient and powerful enemy, and that despite defeating the Dreadlord and his court, the battle against darkness was not yet over.

When Tyril saw she had begun to calm down, he slowly laid her back onto the bed, her hair splaying against the silken pillows as she moved to rest her forehead against his neck. He threaded his fingers through hers and she turned the palm of his hand skyward, tracing her thumb along the smooth skin of his wrist as she searched for the comforting rhythm of his pulse.

A beam of moonlight shining through the arched windows cast a silver crescent on his face as he settled down beside her. His mind wasn’t at ease either, ever the strategic warrior, he was already considering their next options.

“We should gather our friends, and your brother. If there’s any form of threat on the horizon, they will be able to help.”

Raine shook her head. “I can’t ask them to risk their lives again. Not when this is my mistake.”

“I’d hardly call saving the realms a mistake.” A muscle in his jaw ticked, bitter at circumstance, but not at her.

Never at her.

A small crease formed between her brows as she frowned. “It would be unfair to them, Tyril. They already gave so much of themselves while helping us take down the shadow court, and they’ve finally found peace after everything that happened…”

A wave of sadness washed over him at her words. “You deserve that, too.”

She sighed, fiddling with a loose thread on her nightgown. “But what else can be done?”

“We should visit Claris,” he suggested while moving his thumb to stroke her cheek. “If anyone knows what’s causing these visions and what they mean, it will be her.”

Raine nodded hesitantly before curling back up beside him.

“I’m tired of war,” she whispered into his chest. All he could do was pull her closer and it made his heart ache. Tyril had felt helpless many times before in his life, but none stirred him so deeply as this.

He would give the stars and the earth to see her smile again, her eyes sparkling violet in the sunshine and a gentle breeze softly tousling her hair. But the stars that once shone in her eyes seemed so far away, and he was powerless to bring them back.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as she tried to keep the visions at bay, she knew she couldn’t let them consume her.

“Would you like me to cast the spell?” Tyril asked, and when she nodded he moved to rest his lips against the top of her head, murmuring a faint incantation into her hair.

As he spoke, a soft glow began to surround her, leaving a shimmering trail like delicate rays of golden starlight. Slowly, they began to weave and intertwine together as though they were ribbons, pulsing with magic until they burst in a radiant display of light and leaving only small embers fading in the air.

Raine closed her eyes as she was overcome with a wave of drowsiness, the spell already beginning to take effect. It was a simple dream spell, not strong enough to ward the nightmares off entirely, but enough to hold them at bay and guide her to slumber once more, providing a temporary solace until the two could find a more permanent solution.

“Rest, my love.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I will be here when you wake.”

With his arms wrapped around her waist and a faint smile on her lips, she slowly began drifting off to sleep.

Until her screams pierced the fragile silence once more.

When dawn finally gave way to early morning and the soft amber glow of sunrise slowly melted into a pale blue mist, the two stepped outside into the crisp air that surrounded the elven mountain city. A carriage was waiting for them there, the golden spokes of its wheels designed to resemble a sun flaring its rays of light outward.

Tyril lifted his hand out for Raine as he helped her up the steps, before they both settled comfortably on the plush velvet seats.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, seeing her face was still pallid and her cheeks held a grey tinge, lacking the rosiness they usually shone with.

“Nervous,” she admitted, pulling back the ornately woven curtain slightly to glance out the window, but quickly drawing it closed as a sudden wave of nausea added to the crawling feeling of unease already residing in her stomach. “It feels like everything depends on this visit.”

He reached across to take her hands in his, expression solemn. “No matter what information is revealed to us in there, I’ll be by your side.”

A small smile hinted at her lips. “I know you will.”

She rubbed her thumb against the back of his hand, hoping to distract herself. “Can you tell me more about Claris?”

Tyril nodded. “She’s a seer widely renowned within Undermount for her impressive foresight, and has been predicting which Great Houses will rise and fall for years without fail, much to the displeasure of certain political heads. For the most part she is exceedingly insightful and some even claim that her visions are sent from the Gods themselves, though she’s never confirmed or denied this.”

Raine’s eyes widened slightly. “Why would they be displeased with her?”

“They feel that they’ve been humiliated, and so seek a source to blame instead of looking to their own faults, as is the way of our people. It’s hardly her doing.” He continued to explain. “It is a seer’s duty to reveal the veiled truth, but there are many of us who would rather live in denial and are stubbornly resistant to change. Still, seers have always held a pivotal role in Undermount’s society and progression forward. They see the golden threads of destiny that bind us all.”

She nodded as she thought his words over, chewing on her lip as the carriage came to a halt.

“Ah, we’re here.” Tyril stood and she got up after him, stepping out onto the paved stone path.

Before them was the Scrying Hall, a large building carved from gold with a tall spire in the centre that reached skyward and glistened where it caught the morning sunlight. Two shorter towers were positioned on either side, with intricate markings etched into their surface and silver vines framing the arched windows.

The pair climbed a curved set of stairs that led up to the open entryway and headed inside, where the high ceiling formed a pointed arch overhead, and a circular window at the far end of the hall had been cast in stained glass. It formed a brilliant sun, made up of vivid shades of yellow and orange that flooded the room with light and reflected shifting patterns that danced across the polished floors below.

“I’ve been expecting your arrival.” An elven woman approached them, with smooth, hazel skin and eyes the pale gold of the sun at dawn. She wore a set of amber robes with flowing sleeves accentuated with gilded thread, and long skirts that swept across the floor as she walked. Her auburn hair was woven around her head in a sunlit coronet, resembling the deep reds of the sky at sunset, and a light circlet rested upon her brow.

Tyril stepped forward, bowing his head in greeting. “Claris, of House Sunscryer.”

She returned the gesture politely before turning her attention towards Raine. “I’ve heard much about you, Champion of the Light.”

Raine took a surprised step back. “I’m no champion.”

Claris watched her reaction carefully, and a faint glimmer twinkled in the seer’s eyes that she couldn’t quite place. “Not yet, perhaps. Though those rare few blessed by the Light seldom shy away from uprooting corruption and conquering darkness where it stands, should they choose to rise to the challenge.”

From beside her, Tyril cleared his throat. “I assume you know why we’re here?”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. “If you could follow me, please.”

Claris led them to a concealed part of the hall where a swaying curtain next to a series of ivory pillars obscured the large object behind it from view.

“How long ago did your visions begin?” She asked, rearranging a cluster of small crystalline vials filled with various elixirs, catching the sunlight from where they sat on a polished tray upon a silver cart.

“Since the Dreadlord was defeated, though they’ve been getting worse for the past month.” Raine answered, trying to keep her voice steady as she focused on the seer’s actions. “At first they seemed hazy and I could barely make out what was happening, so I assumed they were connected to our fight against the Shadow Court since we were all still recovering from what happened.”

She shifted her attention towards Tyril. “But over time they grew more vivid and strange, like the world was warped around me. I’d see strange figures emerging from the dust, the world on fire and the sky wreathed in darkness.”

She was about to tell them about what she saw last night, but stopped herself. Perhaps it was better to keep that one to herself for now. Or at least until she gained a better understanding of what it had meant.

Claris nodded as she turned back towards them, and lifted her hand to withdraw the curtain. Above a sturdy podium was a large, spinning altar, emitting a golden light and surrounded by shining rays that resembled the midday sun.

“Is this similar to the celestial altar?” Raine asked, noticing it shared a resemblance to the one in the Grand Library.

“Similar, but not the same.” Claris replied, carrying a few scrolls over towards the closest table. “This is a sun altar, so where the celestial altar draws its power from the cosmos, this one harnesses the energy of the solar light above us.”

She paused for a moment in thought. “They also serve different purposes. The celestial altar specialises in the past and that which has already been preserved, showing us memories that have long since passed. The sun altar focuses on the future, showing us what has yet to come, or what may be.”

Raine exhaled with relief at her words. If the visions from her nightmares were not yet set in stone, then perhaps she could still prevent the horrors she had seen from taking hold in reality.

“Now,” Claris smiled, her eyes gentle. “If you could place your hands on the altar’s surface?”

Tyril gave her a reassuring nod and she stepped forward, doing as Claris instructed. The sun altar was warm beneath her touch, exuding a light heat that she could feel pulsing with life and energy beneath her fingertips. She took a deep breath in, preparing herself for what might happen next.

“This spell will allow me to gain further insight into your visions and what they mean, which will hopefully provide me with the information I need to guide you.” Claris said as she moved to the opposite side of the altar. “Since I’m casting as the recipient, you shouldn’t experience much on your end, if anything at all. If you do see anything let me know once we’ve finished, whatever we see here will determine your next course of action.”

Raine nodded and closed her eyes while Claris tucked a loose strand of hair behind a tapered ear. She murmured an incantation under breath that was too low to hear, before her eyes turned a vibrant gold that soon lit up the whole area and flooded the room with light.

Several minutes passed as Raine kept concentrating on the warmth surging through her hands. At this point she hadn’t experienced anything unusual, until an image began to flicker behind her eyes, wavering like a reflection in a pond.

She saw a series of marble pillars engraved with gold lining a grand staircase, at the top of which stood a pair of imposing, gilded gates. Just as quickly as it appeared, the image dissipated like smoke and she opened her eyes to find herself standing in front of Claris once more.

“You saw them as well.” The seer observed her reaction. “The Gates of Elhalas.”

With the spell complete, Tyril stepped up beside them. “The Land of the Gods? Why would Raine’s visions be connected to the realm of the ancients?”

“Morella is not the only realm under threat.” Claris spoke solemnly. “But it soon will be. Your dreams are more than warnings, Raine. They are a glimpse of what is to come if we do not take immediate action, or else the world will collapse at our peril.”

Raine looked towards Tyril. “We’re ready, we’ll do what needs to be done.”

Claris nodded. “Then if you wish to save this world, you will need guidance from the gods, and that means travelling directly into their realm.”

“But how?” She asked. “I thought Elhalas was where the spirits of the ancestors lived after passing on, and we’re…very much alive.”

“Under regular circumstances, you would be correct. But you are a Realm-walker, Raine. You’ve been infused by the Light and are capable of far more than you can even begin to imagine.”

Tyril placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “Think of what you did in the Realm of Shadow, that great feat was only the beginning. If the Gods have granted you a vision of the Gates to Elhalas, then that is where we must begin.”

Raine entwined her fingers with his, taking a moment to savour their shared strength. As long as he was by her side, uncertainty didn’t dare stir within her heart. “I’m ready.”

Closing her eyes, she focused solely on conjuring the image of the gates in her mind, envisioning them with clarity until she felt a strong heat radiating from in front of her. When she looked up, a shimmering portal had appeared before them.

It looked different than the one that had led to the shadow realm. Where that portal had been a swirling vortex of red lightning and dark energy, this one burst with light. A golden mist surrounded them, like the sun peering through the clouds after rainfall, emitting a soft, hazy glow that felt warm against her skin.

“Is that really…” Raine trailed off as she stood entranced, and when she reached her fingertips out to touch the portal, it rippled and a shower of vapour lightly poured down around them.

Tyril beamed at her, his eyes shining with pride. “I never had any doubt in my heart.”

“The portal will lead you to Elhalas.” Claris said. “I must be on my way, as should the two of you.”

“Wait,” Raine turned towards her. “What about—”

“Another will be able to answer your questions in further depth.” She interrupted with a knowing smile. “I was merely a stepping stone in your path ahead.”

Raine nodded. “I can’t thank you enough, for all your help.”

“Be careful,” Claris warned. “The gods play chess, and we are the pawns they wield.”

With a dip of her head, the seer turned and departed from the room, leaving the two of them standing alone in front of the portal.

“Are all seers so mysterious?” Raine asked and Tyril chuckled, before the weight of what lied before them began to settle in.

“I can’t believe we’re really going to Elhalas,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “This is bigger than just the two of us now.”

Tyril reached for her hand, and the warmth of his touch made her stomach flutter. “Nothing is too big for the two of us,” he breathed. “We’ve conquered more darkness than anyone will ever know, and we will do it again, together.”

Raine smiled down at their interlaced fingers. “Together,” she repeated, and hand-in-hand they stepped through the portal, determined to face the unknown that awaited them.

Stepping through the portal had felt like passing through a fine veil of fog, and when they emerged on the other side they were met with a great, blinding surge of light until it slowly faded and they found themselves in the middle of a grand courtyard.

Around them, pale crystals embedded in the white stone walls pulsed with a faint glow, illuminating the golden flowers that bloomed along lush green vines in the sunshine.

The Gates of Elhalas loomed overhead, casting a tall shadow on the staircase below, and bringing attention to the two figures who descended it.

“The glittering stars above and shifting sands below have long been awaiting this moment,” a lilting voice spoke. “If only we could be meeting under more fortunate circumstances.”

Though Raine had not met them before outside of stories and songs, there was no mistaking the two courageous warriors from Kade’s tales who had led the charge against the Shadow Court’s forces; the elven king Xaius and battlemage Ellara.

The pair looked even more valiant than she had imagined. Ellara, no longer a battlemage but instead now a goddess, wore a shimmering pale blue dress adorned with silver beads strung together like moonlit pearls. She still wore the sapphire circlet from her days as Xaius’ second-in-command nestled among her red-brown hair, falling in waves over her shoulders.

The former elven king stood tall beside her with the imposing stature only a noble could possess, his golden robes lined with jewels any human would envy and his long, pale hair was swept back. Raine assumed godhood was not so different from leading an empire, with people singing your praises and a duty to guide and serve them during times of need.

Next to her, Tyril stammered for a brief moment before bowing lowly, and she swiftly did the same.

“Heroes of the great empire, we are most honoured by in your presence.” He spoke with great reverence, but Ellara quickly ushered them both back up, her silver bracelets chiming with the motion.

She smiled, though it looked almost sad. “Thank you, but while our legend still carries on, very few remember that we were mortal, once.” She shook her head. “It was difficult for us to adjust to our new positions. An honour, of course, but with eternity at your fingertips it can be challenging to discern between what is and what once was.”

“As reigning king when the empire fell, I felt as though I had failed my people.” Xaius spoke. “I often contemplated the faults in my rule, thinking I could have prevented the war if I had guided my people better. Ultimately, it’s those who turned their backs on us in search of greater power that are to blame.”

Ellara frowned. “They were a blight on our people’s legacy and everything we stood for. It only takes the selfish misdeeds of a few to cause a millennia’s worth of destruction and strife.” She took a deep breath, regaining her composure. “We cannot thank you enough for succeeding where we failed, but unfortunately the war is not yet over.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Raine said. “To end it for good, so no one suffers further.”

Ellara dipped her head before moving aside to allow them both up the staircase. “Then it is our honour to welcome you, saviours of the realm, to Elhalas.”

With a sweep of her arm, the gates behind them slowly began to open at her command. Raine had never even dared to imagine what the land of the gods may have looked like, but if the Golden City was the jewel of the ancient elven empire, then Elhalas was its treasury.

Aureate towers and ivory spires arched high into the sky and the sunlight above turned everything a glistening pale gold, as though the city had been carved from the first rays of light at dawn. Expansive gardens harboured marble temples with vibrant flowers and trees bearing silver fruit, while shimmering turquoise waterfalls fell into vast, flowing rivers.

The rolling emerald hills in the distance seemed as though they could stretch onward forever if it weren’t for the hazy golden mist barring their path on the far horizon, capturing the entire city in its glow like a magnificent spell.

“It’s hard to believe places like this once actually existed in Morella.” Raine said to Tyril in awe while gazing out at the breathtaking view. “It looks like something from a painting.”

“More beautiful, even.” He glanced towards her and smiled before turning his attention back to the view. “Unfortunately, paintings are the only way they now live on in our memories, but I believe it is better to preserve than to forget.”

Ellara and Xaius led them down into the city, where a golden path led them past towering statues, flowering bushes and water fountains. Around them, the elven spirits that inhabited Elhalas barely even acknowledged each other in passing, drifting by without so much glancing towards anyone.

As lovely as their surroundings were, Raine noticed how Tyril’s expression slowly filled with sorrow the further they ventured through the city.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, reaching for his hand.

“I thought…” He trailed off. “I thought perhaps things would be different here, that our people would have learned from the sacrifices made during the Great War. I hoped they would grow past their prejudices and mistakes,” he sighed, “but perhaps there are some things even death cannot change.”

“Many have been here since before the war and know only selfishness.” Xaius said. “Though even those who gave their lives on the forefront did not necessarily have noble intentions.”

Raine tilted her head. “What’s more honourable than sacrifice?”

“You misunderstand,” he spoke gently, “most of our people were not willing to give their lives out of duty, but pride.”

“Deshana el zentana.” Tyril spoke solemnly. “Death before dishonour.”

His words hung heavy in the air until Ellara spoke. “Although our empire may have met a dark end, there were many bright moments during its time as well.”

“What was it like?” Raine asked, and for a moment Tyril could see a glimpse of her usual self there, ever curious and unburdened by restraint, eager to learn more about their shared culture. He could not deny his own curiosity as well, having grown up in awe of such legendary heroes and tales.

“It was an age of glory,” Xaius said with pride. “Magic flowed through the air, festivals lasted for weeks at a time and banquet halls the size of ballrooms hosted towers of food plentiful enough to feed an army.”

Raine realised how strange it was knowing how others had seen the fall of civilisations she had never even known, and his words made her realise just how young she and Tyril were, for elves.

Though Xaius spoke about the elven empire with pride, she felt a sense of guilt in knowing that while her people had been living prosperously during those times, their empire had been built on the backs of human labour and the orcs had been forced to hide away in the continent’s farthest corners.

She dropped her voice low so only Tyril could hear her. “I mean no disrespect to the empire, but it’s always our people, our legacy. I know the Great War was a tragedy, but what steps had our civilisation taken to get there? They weren’t respected by the other races of Morella, they were feared.”

“They wanted too much.” He said solemnly. “I wonder, when would it ever have been enough for them? To live with an eternal longing that can never be sated casts a heavy shadow on the soul. It is avid greed that leads to everlasting misery, and it’s a difficult cycle to return from.”

Tyril shook his head. “Still, you are not wrong for questioning the principles of the empire. Even before the uprising of the Shadow Court our people had been under the allure of power for centuries, without change their downfall was inevitable.”

They continued onward in silence, until Raine was struck with a question. “I never really thought about it before,” she whispered, “but what did Ellara and Xaius become gods of after their ascension?”

“Xaius became known for his wisdom and clarity, and as such has often been called upon during times of counsel, particularly within debates or concerning political matters.” Tyril explained. “Ellara has become associated with the subconscious realm, the power of dreams and prophecy.”

Dreams. Raine found the word echoing in her mind before she raised her voice enough for Ellara to hear. “Was it you? Who sent me those dreams?”

The goddess turned to face her, surprised by the suddenness of her question before a flicker of respect shone in her gaze. “You’ve always been a clever one, Raine.”

“But why?”

Ellara frowned. “I would have conveyed my messages to you differently if I could, but unfortunately dreams were the only means I had of connecting with you. It was the only way I could warn you of the danger we all face, and for that you needed to see it for yourself.” Her expression filled with sorrow. “I’m truly sorry, for all the pain they caused you.”

“And the winged figure in the shadows?” She asked. “Who was that?”

Ellara exchanged a worried glance with Xaius before turning her attention back towards Raine. “I never sent a dream like that.”

“So you mean…it came from somewhere else?”

Ellara opened her mouth to answer but before she could speak, the ground beneath them began to quake, trembling the land and knocking both Raine and Tyril off their feet.

It passed as suddenly as it had arrived, but neither Xaius nor Ellara seemed to react to it, as though it were a regular occurrence.

“What was that?” Tyril asked as he helped Raine back up from the ground.

Xaius cleared his throat and turned away. “Elhalas has been suffering from…tremors as of recent, but I assure you, everything is under control.”

Raine couldn’t shake the feeling that everything wasn’t under control, and glanced out towards the hills, where the golden mist shimmered far beyond.

“That mist on the horizon,” Tyril said as he followed her gaze. “It serves as a barrier of sorts, doesn’t it?”

“What would you need protecting from here?” She asked.

“The mist is a type of protective shield that surrounds the city, it has been in place ever since Elhalas came into existence.” Xaius waved their concerns aside. “It merely serves as a precaution.”

More questions flittered through Raine’s mind but, getting the impression she wouldn’t be able to coax any further information on the matter from either of them, she kept her mouth shut until the group reached the end of the path.

Before them was a glistening tower that rose high above the rest of the city, watching over it as a divine protector. A golden staircase led to a plateau lined with evergreen trees that swayed in the gentle breeze, and a row of silver fountains adorned the gardens near the entryway, sunlit waters spilling over the edges.

“I’m afraid this is as far as we can lead you,” Ellara said. “The Old Gods will guide you from here.”

Raine frowned. “You’re not coming with us?”

“The Old Gods possess far more knowledge on the threat before us than we are familiar with.” She explained. “They’ll be able to ensure you’re prepared for what is to come. Since we once had a connection to the mortal realm, we were entrusted with bringing you here to begin your journey.”

Tyril bowed his head. “We thank you for all you’ve done to guide us.”

“Please, be careful.” Ellara’s brows furrowed in sorrow. “Our people have suffered enough.”

Xaius and Ellara bid them farewell before turning back down the path, leaving them to gaze up at the looming tower.

All Raine knew was that with a mysterious winged figure lurking in the shadows, sudden earthquakes and a protective barrier warding the city, something was coming for Elhalas.

Something even the gods themselves feared.

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