#juneday52026

The vault in Ori’s townhouse stood open. An abundance of colorful gemstones rested in black velvet-lined trays spread across a nearby table. A few small bags sat beside them where she had been sorting pieces for her upcoming trip, while the larger stones had already been packed into an open metal lockbox secured with a combination lock.

She was extremely cautious with those gems, not just because of their value, but because some could be recognized by certain people in the city. Namely, the people she had stolen them from, the appraisers who had catalogued them, and the insurance companies that had already paid out claims on them.

Trips like the one she would soon be taking were the best way to move such items and ensure they ended up far from the city.

She took other precautions as well. Most pieces sat in her vaults for decades before she even considered selling them, the time didn’t matter, it wasn't as though she needed the money. She never sold items that had been taken together, either. One gem might remain in storage for a century before being sold alongside another that had only been sitting there for thirty years.

A light flashed inside the vault.

Someone was in her house.

Rising smoothly, Ori stepped out and closed the vault door before swinging the display panel back into place. The shelves mounted on it showcased her own jewelry collection, hiding the entrance completely.

Walking out of her room, she headed toward the stairs. The sound of familiar voices drifted up from below, and a smile tugged at her lips. Shaking her head, she wandered into the kitchen, where two women were already laying out food and assembling the ingredients for mojitos.

“You do know this is my house, right?” Ori asked. “Which means you probably shouldn't just walk in.”

Zindravara and Zubrette exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter.

“Like you knocked when you walked in on Zhathras?” Zubrette asked.

Ori held up a hand. “Look, I apologized for that. How was I supposed to know you'd just gotten back from the field with a gorgeous man in tow? Besides,” she pointed a finger at her cousin,“I own your townhouse.”

The grin she directed at the tiny apricot-haired paladin was positively wicked. Zhathras was downright delectable, and Ori had no intention of passing up opportunities to tease Zubs about him.

“Whatever,” Zubrette said. “When have we ever needed to knock before? Do you have a man upstairs?”

Zindravara immediately started toward the staircase.

Ori settled onto a stool at the kitchen bar. “Go ahead,” she said. “Explore.” She never brought men here. If she wanted to take someone home, she used her apartment instead.

The mage sighed dramatically, and Ori caught the roll of Zindra’s dull green eyes behind her dark glasses. “You need to start bringing men home,” Zindra complained. “How are we supposed to gossip about you? You used to have lovers over.”

“I did,” Ori replied, “and then they started showing up without invitations and running into each other. It's easier to just go home with them.”

It would have been funnier if it weren't true. She and her partner at the time had maintained an open relationship, but Zealis had nearly killed a man he found leaving the townhouse one morning. Zea was long gone, she hadn't seen him in more than a century, but the incident had permanently altered how she handled her love life.

“So...” Zindra said, returning from her inspection of the stairs. “What's this about a trip? Zubs said you want some of her things to sell.”

Ah, that was what this ambush was about. “I am going to take some merchandise out through the gate, travel the road, and sell it.” The sarcasm dripped from every word. Ori loved her cousins and tolerated their inquisitive, protective natures with remarkably little complaint.

Zubs slid a plate of mini quiches and a melon mojito in front of her. “And the guy?”

“What guy?” Ori asked, picking up a bacon-and-asparagus quiche.

“The guard you hired,” her youngest cousin replied. “You mentioned him and said the trip might be interesting. Then Uncle Landanis saw you with a man at Pennick’s shop, and Pennick said you were talking about a trade trip with him.” She pointed accusingly. “So. That guy.”

Silvermoon was far too small sometimes. What were the chances that one of the city's most sought-after fashion designers would happen to visit the tailor while Ori was getting Val fitted for a suit? Since she disliked outright lies, she decided to lean into the truth. “That is the man I hired to guide me on the trip. I expect I'll have to attend at least one social function, so he needed a suit.”

Zindra raised an eyebrow. “Since when have you worried about attending parties alone?”

“Never,” Zubrette answered for her with a smirk.

Ignoring her, Ori sighed. “Normally? Never. But I'll be traveling and conducting business with people I don't know. It doesn't hurt to have the man I hired to guard me nearby.” And she couldn't wait to see Val wearing that suit. The man was striking enough in worn clothing and working leathers. In tailored formalwear? Dangerous.

“Tell us about him,” Zindra said. It wasn't a request.

Ori briefly considered telling them it was none of their business, but that would only make them more curious. Brushing her black hair behind one ear, she relented. “I met him at Fancy Cakes a couple months ago. We talked about his work. He has expertise with weapons and even offered to evaluate that piece I bought from the Bloodrain estate sale. When we met again a few weeks ago, I mentioned wanting to leave the city for a while. One thing led to another, and we discussed me hiring him as a guard.”

The discussion had covered far more than that. They had spent an entire afternoon together walking through the city, talking, sharing coffee. He had actually offered to let her hire him. Ori had been genuinely surprised, and certainly wasn't going to say no. She wanted to know him better, and several weeks on the road together seemed like an excellent opportunity.

A lime hit the back of her hand. Ori looked up to find Zindra smirking. “Azeroth to Ori. Are you still in there? What is he like?” the mage pressed.

“I assume you know what he looks like if Goldensorrow's uncle saw him.” She glanced at Zubrette, who stuck out her tongue at the use of her house name before nodding. “I don't know much about him,” Ori admitted. “Only that he's well qualified and very private.”

The statement was meant to end the conversation, instead, it had exactly the opposite effect which should have been expected. “So,” Zindra said, “you hired a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, rough-looking man with long red hair to be your guard despite knowing very little about him? That doesn't sound like you,” Zindra continued. “You don't hire people without proper vetting. It took months of estimates and contractor meetings before you redid the tile around the pool.”

Zubs immediately joined in. “You spent almost six months interviewing candidates before hiring a landscaper.” A grin spread across her face. “And he was tall and broad-shouldered too.”

“I am absolutely telling Zhath you were checking out the lawn guy.” Ori mock threatened.

“Like he'd care,” Zindra shot back. “She's completely gone for him.”

Zubrette shrugged shamelessly. “You're right. I am.”

The unapologetic streak she shared with Zubs made Ori smile. It was one of the things Val said he had noticed about her the first time they met. Most people would have considered it a negative trait, he had seemed to view it as a compliment. Or something close to one, it was often difficult to tell exactly what Val liked.

“We talked,” Ori said. “I felt he was more than qualified, so we started planning.”

“And?” her cousins asked in perfect unison.

They weren't letting her escape, and they were her closest friends. “And,” she admitted, “I'm interested in him.” Before they could ask further questions, she held up a hand. “Yes, he's everything you've already said. But there's just... something about him.”

“Is it because he's private?” Zindra asked. “You usually aren't interested in the strong, silent type.”

Ori nearly choked on her drink, strong, silent type. That was exactly what Val was, she’d simply never thought of him that way. “Not really,” she said after recovering. “I can't quite explain it. I enjoy his company. He's intelligent, and he has fascinating insights into things.” She raised a warning finger. “And yes, I am attracted to him.”

That was when Zindra's expression became serious. “Is attraction really the best reason to hire him? What if he's terrible at being a guard?”

“He isn't.” Ori said confidently.

“Have you checked his references?” Zubs asked.

Ori shook her head. “I didn't ask for any. This is more instinct than anything else. I just know he is undoubtedly a more than competent guard.”

Her cousins exchanged a glance, the they looked back at her worriedly. “This doesn't sound like you, Ori,” Zubrette said carefully. “At least not the post-Zealis version of you.”

“I know what I'm doing.” She said with a frown, she didn’t want Zea’s memory involved in this at all. “I appreciate the concern. I really do, but trust me on this. I'll leave you our travel plans, and I'll text you regularly.”

Zubrette studied her for a long moment with those all-knowing golden eyes before finally nodding. “Good enough. You usually know what you're doing. Just be careful, alright?” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “And I don't just mean physically.”

Ori met her gaze. “Will do.” The answer came easily, whether it was entirely true was another matter.

( @daily-writing-challenge )

There, that was the sound. One eye blinked open, while he kept his head down. Naps should only be interrupted for the most important reasons. An ear flicked to hear the noise again: a little raucous, a little out of the ordinary. It was close. The rest of the noisy city was easy for him to tune out in favor of focusing on this one, delightful sound. Water, splashing abruptly, droplets flying, and the sound of something dragging through the surface. Yes. His head lifted and he found his prey.

An elf laughed and turned the reel and braced the pole. She was small. Just a child, not much bigger than his own. Easy.

Off like a streak, muscle exploded into action and launched him across the marble steps of the reflecting pool. He dodged another elf skillfully, his dash nearly silent. He leapt, sunk his teeth into the fish, and landed on all fours with feline grace. He raced off down the street, yanking the fishing pole out of the child’s hands. A surprised child’s startled cry sounded--satisfying!--as the long pole dropped and followed him like a wild-minded feather toy, bouncing over cobblestones for half a block before the line snapped. He knew he needed to continue to run--he never fled, what a ridiculous supposition!--to stretch his legs and work up an appetite for this abundance.

The fish was not compliant, and the tail curled up and smacked him in the face most disrespectfully. He growled and sunk his fangs in deeper. Food should know its place! His tail lashed and he ran harder.

When it was quieter, after a bath, he sauntered away from the remnants of his ill-begotten meal and left the bones for the rats. Tomorrow, he’d come back for them.

((Written in collaboration with @veilosdaigoa))

Home was a place one should’ve been comfortable, safe, and at ease. Lately, Altherei felt none of those things. Instead, she was uncomfortable, tense, and scrutinizing every shadow. Even now, as she sat and waited for Veilos to arrive, her ears pinned back ever so slightly in quiet focus. The gentle knock on her door startled her, even if it shouldn’t have.

They’d spoken about the ward that was placed on her before, some months ago, but the conversation had been shelved since then- life was busy, greater things took priority. In truth, she might have forgotten about it entirely had its increasing presence not become such a growing, gnawing fear in the back of her mind. She was losing sleep, and the nightmares she was having came more regularly. She could only pretend it was a result of stress for so long, and that time had come and gone.

Altherei rose and opened the door, and did her best to not look as nervous as she felt. She knew he’d notice it anyway- he’d see it in her body language, maybe her aura. He’d hear it in the slight unsteadiness in her voice she did her best to mask. It wasn’t because she wanted to hide anything from him.. she just didn’t want to admit, even to herself perhaps, how much this had started to frighten her.

“Thank you for coming. I.. realize it was a bit of a sudden message- I hope I didn’t worry you too much. I just.. I can’t keep dealing with this- feeling watched, knowing it’s there and I never asked for it to be there and–” She cut herself off, flexing and unflexing her fingers in a nervous gesture to keep herself from rambling.

Veilos’ expression softens immediately. He steps inside only after she’s given him room, closing the door behind himself. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to be frightened, anyone would be.” His gaze studies her for a moment, noticing every tell she thought she was hiding. “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. Whatever is there, we’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

She knew it wasn’t a chastisement, but weariness planted the seed of it all the same. She’d wanted to tell him sooner.. but he was right. They’d figure it out. She led the both of them to her living room couch and settled down. Sitting still was easier said than done, even if closing her eyes helped her stay calm and made it easier to remind herself to breathe slowly and deeply. She didn’t need to be afraid of Veil- she had trust for him in abundance. He’d nearly torn apart the Isle to find her before. In his hands- literal and figurative- she was safe. She knew that. It wasn’t his use of the Void, or his need to step into her mind, that left her ill at ease.

It was what- or who- he might find within. What Ilvisar might do. It was far too easy to spiral into worst-case scenarios without even trying. What made them terrifying, Altherei realized, was that she couldn’t confidently rule any of them out. Any outcome was plausible- good, bad, and horrific alike. She could be perfectly fine.. or she could wind up dead. Could this kill her? Gods, she hoped not.

Her white-blue eyes, glassy with fear, searched out his vibrant gold. She curled her fingers around his firmly. She couldn’t hide the trembling if she wanted to, but she was resolved of one thing, if nothing else, and she spoke it with what confidence she could muster.

“.. Promise me you’ll get him out of my head. Whatever it takes.”

His fingers tighten around hers. For a moment, something hard flashes behind his eyes, not anger directed at her, but at the situation itself. “I don’t like making promises when I don’t control all the variables.” He brushes his thumb over her knuckles, “But I swear to you that I will not stop until I’ve exhausted every option available to me.”

With a shaking inhale and a shakier exhale, she followed the instructions he gave her after, and stepped into her psyche. She’d never set foot in her own mind before- not like this. Altherei had always visualized her mind palace as some hodge-podge of a library and a planetarium. A bit messy, a bit chaotic, and with shelves and shelves of memories good and bad- and some tucked away in corners where hopefully nobody would go rooting around. Things she wanted to stay buried. Things she might have even forgotten until specific people or places or things brought them abruptly to the surface.

When Veil’s presence eased into her mind, she almost didn’t notice. It was calm, practiced- she expected nothing less. Yet just as she dared to allow herself to relax, dread pulled heavy at her stomach. The feeling of a thousand ants crawling under her skin. A lump in her throat like she’d swallowed a stone. Instinct screamed at her to flee, but where was there to run in her own mind? A presence overtook the both of them, washing over her mind like a great canopy of darkness, oppressive and choking.

He was here.

Ilvisar’s made no effort to hide the power he wielded, or conceal the connection between his magic and the ward he placed. A chuckle echoed around her mindspace, almost- almost- light. A pretense at mirth and no more.

“Ah, so this is the doctor my great-grandaughter is so enamored with. I don’t recall inviting you in.” His tone was bemused- for now. As if clued into Altherei’s unease, he followed one remark with another.

“Oh.. did she not tell you?” His voice feigned concern and curiosity alike, but held an altogether too familiar air of a man expertly skilled in gaslighting. “Here I thought she trusted you,” He put heavy emphasis on the word, “Enough to let you barge into her mind, but not enough to share about her family..”

Altherei wanted to speak. To argue. It had nothing to do with trust, nothing to do with anything but there just not being enough time, yet already those doubts crept in anew. What if Veilos believed him? What if he thought Altherei didn’t trust him with it? Yet just as in a nightmare where she couldn’t scream no matter how much she tried.. so too did her voice flee from her here. But was that her own fear.. or was it the weight of Ilvisar’s magic? A force pressed down on her psyche as if to warn her with a single word, a command: Hush.

Veilos barely glances toward the voice, remaining calm. “Interesting tactic. Though if you’re resorting to driving wedges between people before I’ve even begun, it doesn’t inspire much confidence in your position.” Only then does he look at Altherei, “You don’t need to explain anything to me. Not now, not here.” The statement is simple. Her information was her own to keep until she felt comfortable sharing it with him.

“Driving a wedge?” He replied with a breathy laugh, “I’m simply stating the truth of things.” Ilvisar remained remarkably devil-may-care. The reassurance Veil offered to her prompted a roll of his eyes- or the feeling of it, anyway. He’d as yet refused to show himself, opting instead for a disembodied voice. Theatrical, if nothing else.

“I’m quite confident, to the contrary,” He scoffed. “I’ve worked with this magic longer than you’ve been alive. You dip your toes in where I have scoured depths, to say nothing of her fear of getting near the shore,” He quipped at Altherei. “But I have no intention of abandoning her. This ward is for her protection.”

Veilos sighs, “I’ve met many ‘powerful’ people over the years.” His golden gaze sweeps across the darkness. “One thing they all seem to have in common is the need to tell everyone how powerful they are.” Then a faint smile touches his lips, “The truly dangerous ones usually don’t bother.”

Like flipping a switch, Ilvisar’s demeanor changed. If it was truly dangerous he wanted to see.. well. His great-grandaughter might just have to suffer the consequences. Let Veilos try to push him out. Just let him try. Egomaniacal as he was, it was not a pride unfounded.

To Altherei, Ilvisar’s resistance to Veilos’ magic was almost passive- as if he barely needed to lift a finger. She all too easily imagined the walls of her mind closing in around her, shadows encroaching like a ravenous wildfire. Her mind had never been a battleground before, but she didn’t need to have any knowledge of Ilvisar to know who was really for her.

Veilos worked carefully and methodically, matching step for step against Ilvisar, yet never giving way to recklessness or carelessness. Ilvisar, by contrast, despite the little effort he seemed to put in, responded with cruelty. Malice. It wasn’t truly about her protection- it never had been- it was about possession. Control. Every pushback was a stabbing pain, and all she could do was try to breathe through it to keep her psyche from collapsing. She repeated three words to herself- perhaps to Veil, too.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever it takes.

Veil had offered to block the pain. She hadn’t heard him. It was all Altherei could do to hold onto herself as pieces of her mind started to crack and fragment at the edges. Memories old and new began to blur, smeared like a messy oil painting until they became unrecognizable. Tears welled in her eyes, and a warm trickle of blood slowly dripped from her nose. The pain grew and grew until her head felt like it was going to split open like a melon when suddenly–

It stopped. He stopped.

All at once, the threads of her mind rewove. Ilvisar’s voice- his laughter- ceased. Quiet fell over her mindspace, but it was uneasy. Unsettling. This wasn’t victory. It wasn’t concession. A beleaguered sigh broke the stillness, followed by a quiet, tired chuckle from an Ilvisar who sounded far too entertained by the whole ordeal.

“Fine, fine. You want me out that badly.. I’ll go. You’ve done enough damage, I think,” He laughed again. He was full of it- Altherei knew it; it wasn’t Veil who was willing to shred her very sanity.

It frightened her to think Ilvisar might very well have done it. That feeling of being watched pulled back farther and farther until she could almost feel someone leaving her mind. An intruder never meant to be there, finally deciding he’d had enough, and would leave his plaything behind for someone else.

The moment the presence begins to retreat, Veilos doesn’t celebrate. Instead, he turns his full attention on Altherei. “Stay with me.” His voice cuts cleanly through any lingering static. “Don’t follow him, don’t listen to anything he says on the way out.” Light and Void move together around her mind like careful stitches pulling torn fabric closed. “Look at me and breathe. You’re here, this is your mind, not his.”

With any lingering minor injuries dealt with, Veilos had again offered to put one of his own wards in place. She accepted without hesitation. It was a strange feeling, having a ward put right back after one had just been removed.. but this was different. Where Ilvisar had felt like an intruder, a stalker- a presence watching and waiting like a predator observing prey, this felt.. safe. Veilos felt safe.

Imagine a door, he’d told her. Any door- familiar, comforting. Visualization had never been her strong suit, and a tendency to overthink would’ve muddied the waters further had she not been so exhausted. Yet all the same, what came to mind wasn’t a front door, or a patio door- not the door to her home now, or as a child, or even to his apartment. It was the door to her father’s study. Old and oaken, with delicate filigree work along its borders. Centuries of use before her birth had earned it a soft, gentle creak each time it opened and closed.

He walked her through the steps- imagine its key. Close the door. Lock it. Keep the key. She followed every step, committing it all to memory. This was her mind. Her key. Nobody else’s. After a few more deep breaths, she finally opened her eyes once more.

Still.. she was rattled. The shadows still felt like they might start crawling as soon as she closed her eyes. The walls still loomed over her in ways like they might crumble and collapse on her if she dared breathe wrong. Altherei moved forward on her couch until she could wrap herself securely in his arms.

“Please stay with me tonight– I.. I still don’t want to be alone,” She didn’t care if it sounded needy when she knew very well she needed him. Needed his comfort, his steadiness, his presence- something to anchor her when the lights went out and the darkness would threaten to overwhelm her. She knew she didn’t have to fear his refusal.

She kept herself pressed close to Veilos that night, face tucked into the crook of his neck. Much as she hated to feel weak, she gave herself permission now. He was here, and as long as he was here, she’d be all right. A few stray tears found their way down her cheeks, and it was his arms tightening around her and a soft kiss pressed to her head she last felt before drifting into blessed dreamless sleep.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the sprawling blackberry hedge that was doing its best to spill out of the raised garden planter it had rooted deeply in. Fiorenze smiled as she watered where she could. The bramble had grown so thick that realistically that looked like dumping the can over the top of it and knowing the droplets and rivulets would find their way down. Already the white blooms that had burst forth a week or two ago were undergoing their transformation into jewel-like berries. In another few weeks they'd be ready for anyone who came by the community garden to pick.

She drifted back toward what had once been a great fountain; now it was a pool thick with lily pads and the whistling call of frog song in the evenings. She adjusted her big sun-hat so it wouldn't fall as she leaned forward to re-fill her watering can. A scatter of little, silvery minnows scattered in the wake of the ripples. Pond water would always be a better fertilizer than the tap or well water up at the Conservatory proper and Keranna trusted her with the maintenance of it all.

It really was a wonder how productive the garden had become in a year's time. Tomatoes hung heavy from their vines, ripe for the plucking. Young peach and plum trees bore their own bounties in excess. The many different kinds of peppers she had seeded had exploded in growth and constantly produced new, unique varietals thanks to cross pollination from the bees who had a home in nearby apiaries.

One of the prospective chefs who used the test kitchen — a kitchen that had once been fully staffed to provide meals for the nobles that lived in the manor and was now open to commoners who needed space to work and try new things — carefully plucked strawberries off their small hedges and placed them in a basket with what looked like edible flowers and a pile of bright citrus fruits.

Her long ears flicked as she heard a child shriek in clear fear from the direction of the gourd arbor. She dropped the watering can and ran in the direction of the structure. Thick vines had filled in and completely shaded the gravel path the arched trellises covered. Luffa gourds and calabash squash hung down along the inside, still growing in their pendulous states. A kid sat on the ground, their basket of vegetables scattered all around them from where they'd flung it in terror. His eyes were locked on a spot among the leaves and large yellow flowers.

Fiorenze watched as a green grass snake poked its head out, its little pink tongue flicked to scent the air as it mostly minded its own business. She tried not to laugh, it was clear the child had been startled by the little guy. The kid looked up at her, grateful to have some kind of backup against the fierce beast.

She knelt down and started gathering up the spilled potatoes, carrots and rhubarb stalks, "What's your name, dear?"

He cast the snake another furtive glance before turning onto his hands and knees to help get together the rest of the wayward produce to put back into his basket. It took a bashful moment before he answered, "I'm Laisren."

"Well met, I'm Fiorenze. Don't worry about my friend over there, you're not his preferred prey," she grinned at him and offered over what she had gathered up.

Laisren's little hands took the veggies from her as he blinked owlishly, "Like the Lady that used to live here?"

She nodded and answered true, "Like the Lady that used to live here."

He smiled and glanced back toward where the snake had been and stood up as tall as his years allowed, "My mom is going to think I'm so cool. I fought a snake. I met a Lady. I'm a real knight."

She did laugh then, "My apologies, I ought to have used your title then, Sir Laisren. Perhaps don't keep her waiting if she's expecting you home with this food soon."

His ears shot straight up as he looked out toward the bright garden beyond the shady arbor, "Oh! Yeah! Nice to meet you! Bye!" He dashed out, running in the direction of the road down to Glimmerglen.

Fiorenze watched him go for a moment with a slight smile on her face. What a joy this place had become.

Bare feet stepped quietly over nourished grass, bright green and full of life just like the rest of the forest. A singular patch that was embraced by an entire collective and plethora of trees with handsome canopies and sunlight filtering through creating rays on all of the creatures that existed beneath impressive boughs. The entire forest looked that way now and it had taken so many years for it to achieve that. Where once had been a path of dead and barren ground, it had been overtaken, reclaimed by the earth and all of its most natural delights.

Before, she had felt protective of it. Now, she felt pride as she eyed it from the way she was crouched down.

Tilidri Whisperglen had spent her life falling in love with the forest. In the same breath that she had devoted herself to that concept, she dedicated the same life coursing through her veins to its protection. To her, there was no place more she wanted to be than the autumn swirl of colours, of reds like fire, vibrant oranges, and spun golds. It was picturesque in every manner of the word and each time she was in it, she felt her adoration, her love, her adamant fealty for it grow and swell to a size of excess.

Day Five DWC 6/4/26 Prey/Abundance

( Note: She is still on The Righteous Venture, a week or so later from my Day 4 post found here .)

The storm did indeed come as was expected. An overabundance of rain poured down in sheets, soaking everything and everyone.

Still, she feels like something is different about this storm. Like there are eyes on her, waiting, watching in the storm's darkness.

Perhaps she should go to the captain and let him know how she feels. Though she didn’t want to alarm him, after all, it was just a feeling. Well, unless you included the blade at her side, which was still vibrating against her thigh. Her hand moves to palm the hilt as if any moment she will have to use it.

Any other time, a storm like this wouldn’t bother her. She loves storms, but something feels off, as if the storm isn’t right. The hair on the back of her neck stands up, and goosebumps rise on her skin. Her eyes dart around her, but despite her gut feelings she sees nothing.

Her feet slip for a moment, and she loses her foothold. A puff of air leaves her lips as her heart rate speeds up in her chest. She reaches out, finding a rope, pulling herself toward the rigging it is attached to. But the rope, too, is slippery, and she tightens her grip further, hoping it is enough to keep her from going overboard.

Perhaps she should have stayed in her warm, dry cabin.

Day 5 Prey/Abundance 

(TRIGGER WARNING: Graphic Violence, Sexual Assault, Death)

Twilight had fallen over Silvermoon city, casting its fleeting rays of tangerine warmth that struggled in vain against the cold shadows of night. The ringing of resonance bells signaled the beginning of the evening chansons; a marked difference from the religious chants during the day. Dawn and her mother had spent the whole day at the market, shopping around for good deals on silk spools and fresh produce. Ruzzell was spotted making a delivery to the farmer’s market and the elven child was delighted to see her new friend again earlier that day. 

“Mommy, I still can’t believe I saw him again! Wasn’t he so nice?” the child tugged at her mother’s sleeve playfully. 

“He certainly was! A proper gentleman. He even helped us pick out some fresh bloodberries! They’ll make for a wonderful tart after dinner~” her mother said, pulling Dawn closer to her side. The way back home led through a few smaller alleys away from the main road, so she was more cautious now. Silvermoon was relatively safe, but some parts of the city were still notorious for attracting the wrong crowd. Azure braziers illuminated where the sun could not reach; little havens marking the way along the secluded shops leading up to Murder Row. 

The scent of burning aromatics from nearby censers mingled with the fading salt breeze as the family walked deeper down the alley. A skid of dusty stone in a far-off corner caused the mother to cling to her child closer. Her heart skipped a beat, fully alert of her surroundings now. Glowing eyes scanned the immediate area but found no cause for the sound. Cautiously, the two continued, passing by a darkened arch of a nearby building. No lights inside or signs of recent occupancy were found. After some minutes of uninterrupted silence, Dawn’s mother began to relax again. 

“Looks like we’ll be home in time for our evening prayers!” she said sweetly, tugging at her child’s hand. “Have you thought of your blessings for tonight?” Dawn glanced up at her mother and gleamed at her. 

“Oh yes mommy! I am blessed for having an amazing mommy who is so kind and beautiful and who makes the best lynx pie!” Her mother giggles at her daughter’s sweetness, proud of what a good child she had raised. “I’m also blessed with the flowers from our lands gardens and the birds that visit it, even those birdsongs that wake us up!” 

“Oh my, those are some blessings! And I’m blessed to have such a sweetheart like you, my little flower~” She boops her child’s nose playfully, distracting herself long enough to spot the familiar golden lights of the main thoroughfare. A sense of relief washes over her as they hasten their pace towards the exit. Then, a presence was felt, as if several eyes were upon them. Dawn bumps into her mother’s thigh and glances up in confusion. The child sees fear on her mother’s soft features as she pulls her daughter under her cloak in protection. Three bandits had dropped down from the rooftops, surrounding the family. 

“Aww, look at that! Two pretty flowers blew in far away from their gardens~” a masked elf taunted. 

Dawn’s mother reaches for her side to draw her pistol when the prick of a dagger grazes along her throat from behind. Her arm is wrenched back as the second assailant trapped her in his hold. 

“Don’t even think about it bitch, or else your little girl there is dead.” 

Tears streamed down her mother’s cheeks as she tried not to scream. Dawn glanced around in horror as the two strangers came close and then felt a solid hand grip on her shoulder. Glancing up, she sees an elf with a jagged scar down his cheek and a sick grin smiling down at her. 

“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?~” 

“DAWN RUN!” her mother shrieked out in fear for her daughter. Without question, Dawn elbowed her assailant in the nethers. The man fumbled in pain and clutched at the child’s shoulder. The child manages to slip out of the man’s grip as her shawl pulls away from her shoulders. Stumbling past barrels, the little girl bounds away with the elf giving a short chase before giving up. 

Tears streaming down her ruddy cheeks, Dawn meanders down the darkened alleyways back to the marketplace. She sees no guards nearby in her panic and decides to run back to where the fruit stands were. The familiar green face of her friend was just in view. Ruzzell was dropping off a few more parcels to the shopkeeper when he spotted Dawn running up to him. 

“RUZZELL HELP!!” the child gripped and pulled at his wrist, frantically trying to get him to come along. 

“Woah, woah! Easy Dawn! What’s the mattah? Where’s ya mommy?” he said in growing concern now. 

“M-my mommy! There are these men! T-they had knives and hurt her an-and!!” she stammered inconsolably. Realizing the severity of the situation, he firmly held her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. 

“Where is she?” 

She turned and pointed towards the side alleys leading towards Murder Row. He knew exactly where to go now. The fruit seller came out of his shop to see the two, and Ruzzell hands off Dawn to the man. 

“Look after her and call the guards! There is a mugging in Murder Row!” he says before darting off down towards the alleys.  

Ducking in and out of narrow passageways and darkened corridors, Ruzzell swept aisles left and right, pausing and running off again, looking for any signs of the mother. A sharp scream rang out nearby, followed by the aggressive grunting and shouting of men. Ears perked, he darts towards the commotion and finds a man wrestling with a woman to the ground. Another is rummaging in a torn pack, searching for valuables while the third spots Ruzzell. 

“Hey! We got company!” 

The assailant climbs off the sobbing woman who clutches at her torn dress and calls out for the goblin. 

“You best be moving along you little imp before you get hur-ghhh" the man gurgled mid-sentence as Ruzzell’s rapier pierces his lung and twists around. The man falls to the ground, clutching the bleeding wound as the goblin pulls free. 

The would-be rapist sees the man silently approaching him and attempts to draw out the woman’s pistol to shoot before a parrying dagger is tossed his ribs. The man yelps in pain and moves to aim the pistol at the mother instead. Before he can pull the trigger, Ruzzell leaps on top of the elf and wrestles with the man on the cold ground. The hero grips the man’s wrist and slams it into cobbles, trying to disarm him. A twist of the dagger in his ribs causes excruciating pain as the man lets go and tries to push the goblin off of him. As Ruzzell begins to overpower the elf, he feels several punches on his back as the other bandit joins the fray. Reaching for the pistol now, the barrage of strikes against his back continues. All three move towards the gun, but Ruzzell manages to reach it first. Butting the grip against the man’s face, he manages to stun him long enough to aim the muzzle at the man’s cheek and fires. The elf goes limp instantly. The man under Ruzzell attempts to break away now in fear of dying next. His attention drawn back to the final assailant, Ruzzell grips his main gauche and jerks it upward, cracking the man’s rib and causing him to pass out in shock. 

Getting up with a slight limp now, the goblin approaches Dawn’s mother who scrambles over to her protector. 

“Light bless you Ruzzell! Those men, they were...” she stops as she holds him, feeling a wetness to his back. Holding her hand up, she sees they are stained red with his blood now. 

“Are you alright Mrs.?” he spoke softly, a warm smile on his face now as he tries to comfort her. 

“I... Ruzzell...” she spoke in disbelief, the shock of everything not being felt yet. The same could be said for the goblin as he continues to smile, his eyes slowly closing as the poisoned daggers continuing to leech into his back. 

The last thing Ruzzell hears is the singing of vespers as the darkness of night slowly envelops him. 

@daily-writing-challenge

Favours following favours.

We were here in Stormwind’s rural lands as a favour to Anduin, now that we had burdened him with the truth of who this soul was comprised of. As a favour to Wrathion, who had known my plans to bring in Arthas’s spirit all along, had been supportive out of curiosity, and had then bidden us not to make him keep the secret for too long. More than reasonable. When we had suggested telling Anduin right then, he had brought us to the elusive king, and so now he knew, and now we were his problem. In my opinion, he needed one. One that called for him specifically. Not that I expected thanks.

Looking immeasurably tired, he had taken his time to think and then told me, “I won’t fault you for showing compassion where most would argue against it.” And that was it. He would handle the difficult conversations with fellow nobles and such, who would have to know in time, with our name becoming widely known.

Our job now was to make his case easier by showing the Alliance at large that we had not been as absolutely terrible an idea as we sounded.