Part 1

Part 2

“I thought you said this would be easy now that his protections had been taken away.”  The gruff voice of one of the living onlookers finally said in the silence of the courtyard.  The Nightborne body that Amarhys currently inhabited held Kael’deryn’s head in her lap.  Her fingers lightly moved over her son’s face.  There was some semblance of regret there.  She had been the one to demand they unshackle him so she could more comfortably cradle her son.

Kael’deryn lay motionless. There was only the minute rise and fall of his chest, shallow breathing that would have troubled anyone.  Dying things did that and Amarhys knew too well what it was to take a life.  She had brought him into this world and now she might see him leave it.  Never had she intended it to go this far.  Never did she believe her son would be this stubborn and this resilient.  Two of the four had been released but he was still managing to fight.

“He is strong.” Amarhys’ voice finally cut through the eerie silence of the courtyard.  “He is stronger than he was before.”  Idly, her fingers moved through the red hair, noting that the wisps of silver had multiplied.  There was now an even ratio of crimson to silver.

Sneak peek of a wip

I am once more awful with posting on SoMe, so have this WIP of my rogue tiefling Amarhys (◡‿◡✿)

Three angels for Staevstarion 😎

From left to right: My Amarhys, @justporo 's Fox and @silmaryel 's Inka 💜 thanks for letting me draw your blorbos 🔥

Dreams were so much easier to manipulate.   They could easily be disintegrated into something far worse than reality.  The unreal and imagined could become a terrifying reality.  There were no rules of limitation in a dreamworld.  The true measure of power was the wills that were trapped within. Terror could know no bounds.

It had manifested as a haunting, bringing the very avians that Ilyea would have attributed to her sorcerer friend.  It played at her emotions, offering no threat just yet.  The chill in the air was permanent, licking frostily at her flesh with claws of winter.  Her very breath was present, the chill and scent of death jarring her insides with each inhale.

The figure remained unmoving but the feeling of being watched was present.  It was that skin-prickling feeling, the very one that raised the fine hairs on the back of one’s neck.  It triggered the fight or flight response, edging in a trickle of trepidation.  Something was definitely not right.

The cloaked figured held out the corvid named Rose without qualm.  It did not seem to grow tired in its unmoving gesture. Not a word escaped it but no breath was to be seen either.  The stillness it had mastered was something only seen in inanimate objects or the dead. Slowly, its head rose but there was still no face to be seen.  Instead, what seemed to be the edge of a beak peered from underneath the folds of the hood.

One hand reached out to Ilyea, the movement was fluid but unnerving as it seemed to extend farther from the body than it should.  Long, clawed fingers curled in a beckoning gesture, urging the girl to come forth from the protected space she stood in.  For even in dreams, the magical had defenses that could not be breached by alien beings.

“̠͖͕̠͉̱ Ỵ̸͕̱̞̖̻o̵͖̘̩͚͓ͅu̷̳͈̘̘̱ ̠͎͉a̶̮̺͇̻̮̻̰nd̨͎̖̦͖ ͖̼̮̲I͓͘ ̤̮̭͈̳͚̜h̬͢ạ̫̱͙̦̪̭͢v̰̥̳͖e҉̭̟͕͉̰͇̯ ̸͉̳̯ͅm̛̫̤͙u͕͉c͖̝͕̩h̘̫̼̭ ̹͓̲̻t͔͇̠̤͝o̧̪̫͖̳ ̱̰͘d͎̖̟̫̤i̫̠͉͉̮͢sç̻̹̞̻̩̪u̞̮̲s̨͉͔̳̯̹s̴͎̘,̝̩͚̰͝ ̪̰͔̦̠l̯̦̦̫̦i̱͇t̟̟̭̙t̛̫͎͙͚̠̝ͅl̥̱̲͝e̡ ̪s̗̙̝̲̖h͈̣̬͓͎a͓d̬͉̩̩̕o̱̳̜͈̥̭͔͞w̺̭̪̖͍͖̣.̳̰ ”͎̞̤̻