View source for A New Regime, Not Quite Nevermore, Shadow Beasts

Shockwaves in Winter Court: Daryndel returns from the Raven Queen’s halls, sends half his forces to Pinebrook on sealed orders, and refuses Sendings. He tests the palace spies by speaking a “truth” to Mab’s gifted cat; by morning, every “kitten” is dead and glamours are burned away. 

Blackwood’s Firebreak: Far from the capital, Malakai burns his estate by design—cover for a long-planned evacuation and a false trail that paints him as drug-mad rather than a traitor. Rare stock is already safe; decoys stay to sell the lie.

Crown Falls, Palace Locks: A Tier-One summons pulls Daryndel to an off-book briefing: the story is “Blackwood killed Mab.” The palace seals. Tier-Ones realize they’re targets in a change of reign. Some run. Daryndel does not—he fortifies at home and waits.

The Choosing: Across the North, the Weird calls candidates. The rite seals the chamber. A “pliable” daughter is chosen—and proves anything but. She kills her rivals, bites the heart of the worst, bathes, and steps out as the new Mab with a blunt creed: prove worth, live; loyalty is leverage.

Daryndel’s Terms: He kneels, keeps Tier-One, and is asked to help run daily Circle of Truth. He’s honest about limits; she likes that. He takes a prime suite, salvages three hidden magic pieces, keeps one relieved body-servant, and studies truth-work until dinner.

First Feast, New Tone: Guards everywhere, smiles everywhere, a band called Not Quite Nevermore. Daryndel eats light, watches hard. The Queen signals Equinox-friendly tastes and steady authority.

Mask Night: A marathon party runs past 4 a.m. The “Bufo Song” leads the sing-alongs. Daryndel pays a servant for a brief, comic polymorph tribute; the Queen approves the respect, not chaos.

Valkaenar Summoned: He arrives wrecked by grief for Blackwood yet composed. The Queen removes his Winter Tier-One (he belongs to Equinox), offers Blackwood’s rooms and effects, and treats him with open honor.

The Sword and the Hole: In Blackwood’s rooms, Valkaenar quietly claims personal items, then draws the cold-iron sword from stone as if it still knows him. Staff gasp; he wraps it and moves on.

Private Reset: The Queen favors truth-circles over mass executions and refuses to waste skilled people. She labels the working story “poison or alchemical trigger,” not treason. She floats Valkaenar as ambassador to the Equinox if Zeromaeus agrees.

Winter Unwound, Not Shattered: Lady Nethys argues for a staged end to the unnatural winter. The Queen agrees: schedule the thaw, involve druids, avoid die-offs. Nethys announces a two-week masquerade mocking the old regime—first 2,000 in.

Day-One Outcomes: Some executions, many exiles pending proof. Daryndel’s stock rises through quiet competence. Views split on Valkaenar: pity vs. schadenfreude, but the ambassador path keeps him relevant.

Lanes and Borders: Daryndel draws a clean line—“Father to Zero, I to you.” Equinox remains neutral ground by design: trade, meet, spy—without lighting fuses. Prophecies are handled, not forced.

Family Threads & Faith: Valkaenar shares Silvaeari ties; the Queen won’t police private shrines unless they call for destruction. Order before ideology.

Blackwood Returns: Using a blood-bound amulet and a cleric’s aid, Valkaenar restores Malakai’s body. Blue magic swirls; breath returns; Malakai collapses into sleep. Their Bond is real and felt.

Huntmaster Answer: In the Dreamstate, Valkaenar asks Gaethan about making Mab a hound; Gaethan laughs—already done at her death. Justice stands.

Nightmare Trace: A skittering dream-thing flits near Valkaenar’s rooms; his spell misses as it vanishes. Later, Aeris finds a tiny puncture in Malakai’s foot; healing pops a wisp of nightmare energy. Malakai finishes recovery in the fully warded crystal room.

Courts and Councils: Zero meets the new Queen privately; they agree on monthly talks. In the Dreamstate, Valkaenar briefs allies: reasonable Queen, Blackwood alive and “innocent,” inquisitors pulled back, church can build in the open.

Mood Shift: For the first time in ages, people breathe. Averon is openly giddy. Aeris calls it a weight lifted. A feast in ten days is set to honor Blackwood’s sacrifice and survival.

== Detailed Summary ==
the shape of the day

Daryndel Vaeari comes home from the Raven Queen’s halls braced for impact. He is not summoned to any Tier-One musters for the strike on Pinebrook—he couldn’t be, even if he wished to be; he blooded his brother and the Weird frowns on family-on-family slaughter. A sealed order arrives instead: send soldiers, now. He sends half his strength without argument and refuses to risk a Sending—assumes the lines are watched.

He tells the palace “kitten” (one of Mab’s gifts) a dry truth meant for spies as much as servants: It seems my baby brother made it bad. Now we find out how blind my father is. The cat purrs; Daryndel paces.

Far away, Malakai Blackwood lit his own world on fire. His estate went up all at once—salting the earth, hiding the quiet evacuation he’d been staging for years, and scattering false leads (a cup laced with hallucinogen to read as poisoned into madness; contingencies on his corpse so labwork won’t contradict the story). Livestock and rarities were already spirited to a daughter’s holding; enough decoys remain to sell the lie.

In the capital, Daryndel refuses to chatter. Elara and Valkaenar both try to reach him; he cuts both Sendings, then lies down and gambles on a dream-bridge that never comes—his father is busy breaking. He wakes to a stink: every gifted “kitten” is dead and decaying fast, their glamour burned off—spies revealed for what they were.

A runner brings a one-line summons from a Tier-One acquaintance: Come. Urgent. Daryndel goes, is steered off the main drive (“atrium gathering”), and hears the first version of history: Blackwood went mad and killed the Queen. The eyewitness speaks of a calm approach, a boon’s distance, and that sword punching through Mab—cold iron smoke or the soul’s ash, take your pick—followed by killing blasts. Wizards have locked the palace; truth is scarce. The room takes the warning for what it is: Tier-Ones are targets when crowns change. Some are already running.

Daryndel doesn’t. He goes home, stands on a balcony where the Raven Queen’s black feather (gift; visible) can be seen, and tells his captain three things: the Queen is dead; he will hold Tier-One if the new Mab lets him; and any irregularity wakes him, immediately. Then he sweeps his rooms, destroys the old bugs, and waits.

the choosing

Across the North, candidates feel the Weird’s tug. The list skews Unseelie-born but Equinox-friendly; some who are always summoned are summoned again; some new names appear. Celeste (Daryndel’s bride-from-beyond in coaching) power-plays a refusal: If the Weird wants me, it can find me where I am. Nell (ancient, canny) is approached by spirits who test for compromise: if chosen, would she hold the crown as a placeholder until a prophesied king is truly ready? She will, but the Weird chooses elsewhere.

The rite locks the chamber and all in it until power falls. When it does, it chooses the “pliable” daughter—the one court-minders thought easy to steer. She proves otherwise. Rivals die by her hand (as tradition, and good sense), she bites the heart of the most dangerous, and she steps out Mab with blood still drying as she speaks. Her speech is short and sharp: Prove your worth and live. Obedience is not waste; loyalty is leverage. Then a bath—also tradition—and court begins.

Daryndel kneels, pledges, and is affirmed Tier-One. Mab is pragmatic to the edge of tenderness when it serves the realm: for those “raised” moments before the death, she offers a choice—keep Tier-One, or lose the paper without shame. Daryndel chooses to keep it. She tells him to pick any high-tier suite but two (Blackwood’s—sealed as a crime scene—and one other she keeps blank), and, quietly, she asks for help.

She wants Circle of Truth (her phrasing; the spell) running tomorrow; she has limited casters she trusts. Daryndel is frank: he’s a capable wizard, but not the arch-monster the rumors imply, and some of the “big” power he had was spent. She likes honesty and leverage in equal measure. For now, he’ll serve as advisor (title pending), help run truth-circles, and—tomorrow—start naming who stays.

He chooses a suite with an eye for Celeste’s taste, is given early pass at the pallet of abandoned goods, and quietly palms three innocuous-looking, very real magical pieces the last lord had disguised as trash. He keeps the former body-servant (geased by the old master, and relieved not to be killed for knowing things), orders hydration not theatre, and studies up on truth-magic until dinner.

the first feast

Court that night looks exactly like a new reign should: too many guards, too many smiles, and a band with an on-the-nose name—Not Quite Nevermore—because this Mab, unlike the last, likes Equinox things. Daryndel keeps his counsel. He clocks the ones who watch instead of fawn. He notes the cliques who are celebrating a little too hard (they think they’ve “placed” her). He eats little, drinks what hydrates, and files away faces.

Mab does the rounds. With Nethys (the older trio) she is pointed: I’m seeking change; I’d be honored to be a “tea Mab.” With Daryndel she is cannier still—asks about wardrobe (keep? replace?), admits she trusts him instinctively, and says tomorrow she’ll start daily afternoon court “for as long as it takes.” He counsels her not to promise an end date. She doesn’t. She also orders that Valkaenar’s claim to Tier-One (Mab-era paperwork) be lost unless he returns and proves himself; it was never truly valid for an Equinox lord.

By midnight, the shape of things is plain: a reasonable Mab, not a gentle one; a Tier-One who means to stay; a palace that finally feels like it might run.

Coronation Night: Music, masks, and careful politics

The palace throws a marathon celebration with three bands trading sets. The headliner plays longer blocks and repeats crowd-favorites each rotation. The biggest sing-along is the “Bufo Song,” an anthem everyone seems to know. The Queen enjoys herself without losing face: she mouths the chorus, keeps time with a heel-tap, and never takes a partner to avoid signaling favorites among her lords.

Daryndel adds a splash of chaos. He slips a servant five gold to accept a brief polymorph into Bufo’s species and sets the frog on his own plate. The loud, comic “grop!” pulls eyes his way. The Queen is amused but firm: tribute is welcome; mischief that crosses lines is not. When the spell ends, Daryndel quietly presses five platinum into the servant’s hand—overpaying to make the point that the joke was also respect.

The party runs past 4 a.m. When the Queen retires around 2, the room shifts. Lords stay longer than they want because no one wants to be the first to leave—and because they want her favor. Servants (many acting as quiet informants) collect the late-night griping once the crown is out of sight. Rooms are assigned by station. Top tiers get private bathing and help; lower tiers share amenities. The message is clear: rank matters, but everyone is meant to stay through morning.

Daryndel and Draco: a door opens

Daryndel shadows Draco, a Dreamwalker with too much Nethys wine and too little caution. Draco nearly blurts that the Queen was a “weird choice” among candidates. Daryndel gently redirects him into safer talk—the Wild Hunt, kin who joined it—and files away the big reveal: Draco can be steered. He’s a possible lead to co-conspirators, or at least a barometer for the Dreamwalkers’ leanings. Daryndel keeps it friendly, not obvious.

Valkaenar’s summons: loss, courtesy, and a key

At dawn, Lord Valkaenar Vaeari is formally summoned. He arrives hollowed by grief for Malakai Blackwood. Thanks to Yaria’s steadying care, he looks presentable, but he is not himself. The Queen withdraws his Tier One—framed not as punishment, but as realignment: his true place is the Equinox, not her inner circle. She offers him Blackwood’s chambers and first claim on all personal effects already cleared by the inquisitors. 

Daryndel steps in and, in open court, says flatly that his father looks unwell. He requests clerics to rule out poison or alchemical influence. The Queen agrees. Valkaenar is escorted with honor, not under guard.

In Blackwood’s rooms (now a processed crime scene), Valkaenar methodically packs personal items into a portable hole. He is zombie-like, and sleeps on a matress that he already packed the sheets from. 

Downstairs, He eventually faces the sword: a hand-and-a-half blade of cold iron, still embedded in masonry from the blast that followed the killing. He takes a quiet risk—grips the hilt—and the weapon slides free as if it recognizes the bond that lingers between master and the one closest to him. Gasps ripple from staff who had avoided the blade. Valkaenar wraps it in linen and an offered scabbard without touching any exposed metal. 

Private audience: expectations reset

The Queen grants Valkaenar a short private appointment. She is raw but sensible: she favors Circle of Truth over mass executions and refuses to “waste resources,” whether that means killing skilled people out of habit or grinding lands past recovery. She confirms the working view on Blackwood—that he was driven by poison or an alchemical trigger, not treason. She will not hunt his family. She offers Valkaenar an ambassadorial role to the Equinox, subject to approval by Zeromaeus the King of Twilight and Valkaenar’s close ally. He leaves with something he hasn’t had since the blast—hope. 

Lady Nethys: fix the winter, but don’t break the world

Lady Nethys meets the Queen with practical counsel. Yes, end the unnatural winter—but do it in steps. Animals and people have adapted to long, brutal seasons; flipping the switch means mass die-offs. The Queen listens and delegates: the court wizard who cast the winter will now dial it back on a schedule, and druids outside the storm belt will be consulted to pace the change. Nethys notes that some things should return immediately (true summers), while others must taper. The Queen thanks her and promises access to the magic needed to implement a controlled unwind.

Nethys leaves on strong terms and publicly announces a party at her estate in two weeks: a satirical masquerade “dishonoring” the last Queen. First two thousand through the gates—including servants—are welcome. It’s theater and test: who leans into the new order, and who sulks.

Court weather after day one

Executions and exiles: Many names change status after Circle of Truth. Some are dead; others are exiled from the palace pending proof of loyalty. Whispers fill the gaps where facts are missing.

Daryndel’s rise: With Tier One confirmed, he works the room with care—never flashy, always paying attention. His stock is up. 

Valkaenar’s state: Among watchers, reactions split. Some pity the usually razor-edged patriarch; others quietly gloat. Either way, his new ambassador path—if Zeromaeus signs—keeps him in the game. 

Religions: The Queen isn’t seeking a temple purge. If a faith preaches murder of her people, that’s different; otherwise, what you do at home is your concern. She wants order before ideology. In this, Silvaeari need not fear worshipping Ryn.

Daryndel’s lane (and his boundary)

Daryndel is locked in as Tier One and reading the room well. He’s loyal, but he wants clean borders with his father’s politics:

“Father belongs to Zeromaeus; I belong to you.”

Family first, yes—but keep the Winter Court lane clear. He’s fine meeting at the Equinox for family, not for power-creep.

Equinox: neutral on purpose

The Queen wants Equinox to stay neutral—a place where Seelie and Unseelie can meet, trade, and yes, spy both ways, without lighting the fuse. That neutrality supports the prophecy arc without trying to force it.

Prophecies: handled, not forced

Daryndel admits he once tried to force a prophecy (enemy liaison, a child, fallout he regrets). Lesson learned: no more forcing fate. 

Family threads and Silvaeari

Valkaenar shares that his southern line (son + grandchild) folded into the Silvaeari name. He’ll offer an olive branch but expects a long road. The Queen won’t block family meetings at the Equinox and won’t police private shrines unless a faith calls for murder. Order before ideology.

Parties, prizes, and the Court’s real humor

Nethys’ masquerade (in two weeks): Come dressed as the old Queen “as you pictured her.” Servants included. First 2,000 get in. It’s satire as stress-test: who embraces the new tone; who sulks.

Last Nethys party lore: guests received enchanted favors—some got chocobos, others got hover-squid. Blackwood’s floating companion “Bobb” came from that run. Many such gifts were rude on purpose; a lot likely ended as calamari.

One guest- Daryndel- was blue for a week (glamour residue)—he jokes he hopes green isn’t next. The Queen laughs about the real risk: “What if the costume won’t come off?” As Queen, she’d hate that; as a private person, she’d find it hilarious.

10) Music threads (Bufo, Raven, and the fangirl who is also monarch)

The Bufo Song is an Equinox anthem; even high lords know the chorus. The Queen mouths it; she never dances, to avoid signaling favorites.

Daryndel’s playful polymorph tribute worked because it honored, not mocked; she praised the joke and set limits.

The Queen is openly a fangirl of a Raven, and she’s seen him twice as a princess at Equinox shows.

Daryndel jokes that, if family bridges mend, maybe a joint Equinox concert could put Raven on a stage between Titania and the Queen—neutral ground, not a kidnapping risk.

Blackwood’s resurrection

Valkaenar carefully uses the blood-filled amulet to bring Malakai Blackwood back. He has to pierce the vessel without destroying it, consults magic to make sure he won’t ruin it, and performs the rite. With the aid of a cleric, the magic manifests as blue swirls, and Blackwood’s body reforms. He gasps, alive again, then collapses into unconsciousness. Valkaenar clutches him, almost too tightly, and refuses to leave his side. When Blackwood wakes, his first awareness is of Valkaenar tangled over him, and the relief is overwhelming. Their bond is confirmed—literally, as Bonded—and Valkaenar admits he knew the moment Blackwood died. The two fall back into the rhythm of sardonic jokes and tenderness, acknowledging that even if it cost everything, the gambit worked: Blackwood’s “death” toppled Mab and protected Valkaenar’s family.

Political fallout and the new Queen

The newly crowned Unseelie Queen is shockingly pragmatic, not Mab’s mirror at all. She’s dismantling Mab’s cruelties—unbinding spells slowly so ecosystems don’t collapse, planning parties that mock the old queen, and reshaping courtly norms. She has already named Daryndel as her advisor and Valkaenar as ambassador to the King of Twilight. Zeromaeus meets her formally in a private chamber where guards are hidden behind mirrored curtains, establishing trust. Their conversation runs long—comparing ruling styles, laughing about mortal sayings, and trading survival tips for navigating “requests” from nobles. They recognize each other as equals, almost allies: both drowning in inherited messes, both determined to carve something better out of the chaos. By the end, they agree to monthly meetings simply because it’s refreshing to speak with someone intelligent who isn’t trying to manipulate them.

Nell’s “Disrespect Mab” party

Meanwhile, Nell is in full force. She’s planning a grand party for two thousand guests where everyone must dress as how they perceived Mab in their heads. She teases Valkaenar and Elara about disguising themselves as randos to avoid overshadowing the event, and even hands Elara personal invitations for her parents and for Titania. Nell is as unpredictable as ever—cheerfully blunt, laughing off past slights, and reminding everyone that appearances in public are rarely truths. She reveals that the family’s long-cultivated eccentricity was partly a coping mechanism for Zeromaeus’s absence, partly a weaponized defense. Dinner with her is equal parts biting humor, maternal affection, and sharp political stagecraft.

Blackwood’s Return & Valkaenar’s Relief

Blackwood’s resurrection is complete—he breathes, sleeps, and begins to stir again. Valkaenar won’t leave his side at first. His relief shows not as joy but as a tightly held composure, the kind only an Unseelie lord could manage. He acknowledges openly that Blackwood’s staged “death” was the sacrifice that toppled Mab: the perfect scheme, so convincing it let Blackwood walk free while the court turned on itself. “That was the heroic sacrifice,” Valkaenar says. “Truly beautiful.” He admits that in cunning, Blackwood is his equal, and perhaps his closest mirror.

Private Plots: The Hound Scheme

Later, in a more private, darkly unguarded moment, Valkaenar lets slip his most Unseelie instinct. What if he were to resurrect Mab herself—only to have her turned into one of the Wild Hunt’s hounds? The idea makes him laugh in a way that unsettles even his closest allies: a reminder of the ancient cruelty still alive under his polished exterior. He frames it as vengeance, not sport—“Every copper is worth it if she can be made to pay.” His allies look uncomfortable, but some can’t help admitting the poetic irony: the tyrant queen dragged back into existence only to be forever bound as prey and hunter’s beast.

Dreamstate Council

That night in the Dreamstate, Valkaenar meets with Zathus, who confirms the Inquisitors have actually respected the new Queen’s sovereignty—for now. Spies will come, but the immediate threat has passed. When Aeris and Averon join the dream, Valkaenar delivers real news:

The new Queen is reasonable, even personable.

Zeromaeus already meets with her monthly as peers.

Blackwood lives, his “innocence” intact by clever framing.

The church and paladin order no longer need to hide—the days of inquisitorial purges are past.

Aeris squeezes his hand, acknowledging both the freedom and the oddity: Valkaenar now holds two bonds. Averon reminds him there is precedent in old bloodlines; Ryn’s line carried more than one bond before. It eases Valkaenar’s guilt slightly, but not entirely.

Faith Stirring in Blackwood

When Blackwood wakes, he admits to fading dreams of T'Ryndiel and Shadowbirch, soothing him with the promise it would be all right. Blackwood has never been a man of faith, but this grace in his darkest moment draws his eye to the Church of Ryn. He says he may need to repent—not as atonement to the Queen, but because he feels a god cared when he never asked. Valkaenar recognizes the shift and encourages him, even as it unsettles him: their lives now orbit prophecy and gods as much as courtly plots.

The Dreamstate ends on laughter—dark laughter, when Valkaenar outlines his plan to resurrect Mab as vengeance, framing it as gratitude for being made Tier One. Averon collapses in mirth, calling it the perfect vengeance, while Aeris looks disturbed but thoughtful.

The Mood

For the first time in centuries, there is air in the room instead of knives.

Averon is outright celebratory, almost giddy. He admits he never believed he’d see the day when Mab wasn’t poised to crush everything he had built. “I thought we’d never be safe until the King of Twilight struck her down,” he says. “Our paladins would have made things safer, yes—but never safe.”

Aeris says it is a weight lifted: “To do something natural, and not fear it will annihilate you and your family in a heartbeat—that fear has shaped me since childhood. Now it’s gone.” She squeezes Valkaenar’s hand, recognizing how heavy it has been for him too.

Valkaenar’s News

He recounts Blackwood’s staged death. Blackwood saw no way to stall Mab, but he saw a way to end her: trusted as Tier One, he got close enough to strike her down.

The story that spreads is that Blackwood was drugged, lost control, and attacked—making him the victim of assassination, not a traitor. It means he is still welcome at court, his “innocence” intact.

Bonded and Family Threads

Valkaenar stresses: Blackwood sacrificed himself for family. “That makes him family now, too.”

He admits the bond feels different between them—urgent, physical, immediate—whereas with Yaria it is stable and constant. He doesn’t yet know how to balance that, only that he cannot deny either.

Aeris gently reminds him: “It is also enough to just love.”

Freedom of Faith

With Mab gone, they no longer need to hide their church, their paladin order, or their shrines.

“Build openly,” Valkaenar says. “You don’t need a fortress anymore unless you want one.”

They talk of notifying Atticus on the northern border, so he knows his family can live openly without persecution. Valkaenar promises to cover the cost if Atticus wants to move south.

Plans Forward

They joke about training rooms that double as playrooms. Aeris notes it could double as recruitment bait; Averon just laughs.

A celebratory feast is suggested for ten days hence, to honor Blackwood’s sacrifice and survival. “He saved us all,” Averon insists. “That deserves recognition.”

Talk turns to building properly now: temples, paladin schools, and training halls not hidden under fear, but standing openly as symbols of freedom.

The Gift

Valkaenar shows them the amulet Blackwood gave him: enchanted with feeling, bound with his blood. This was the vessel that let him resurrect Blackwood despite his body being vaporized in Mab’s explosion.

“There was nothing left,” Valkaenar explains. “Only his sword, embedded in the wall. But this—this was enough.”

---

Valkaenar entered the dream state and opened a portal to speak with Gaethan, the Huntmaster. Though hesitant, Gaethan eventually stepped through, amused that Valkaenar wanted to speak about vengeance. Valkaenar suggested resurrecting Mab to have Zeromaeus remake her into a hound as punishment. Gaethan revealed it was unnecessary—he had already taken her soul at death, transforming her into a hound himself. The two laughed at the irony, and Valkaenar was deeply relieved that true justice had been done. They spoke about the fate of corrupt fae: those tainted by evil return to Gaethan, while those who consort too closely with demons are dragged to the hells.

Their talk turned more convivial. Valkaenar invited Gaethan to an upcoming celebratory feast in the waking world, promising plenty of meat and mead. Gaethan agreed, also confirming he would attend the Nethys’ party. With the matter of vengeance settled, Gaethan departed, leaving Valkaenar satisfied.

When Valkaenar awoke, he slipped carefully from the bed where Malakai and Yaria rested, leaving a note for the staff to secure fine mead for the feast. Yet unease followed him. Later, in the waking world, he saw something disturbing near his chambers: a shadowy, skittering nightmare-creature that only a dreamwalker could perceive. He hurled a powerful spell at it, but it vanished before impact, leaving only a hole blasted in the wall—and a tiny puncture wound on Malakai’s foot, marked by a fleeting trace of magic.

Concerned for Malakai’s safety, Valkaenar moved him to the warded crystal chamber, the most protected place in the house. There, he updated Averon and Aeris, sharing both the good news about the hound and the troubling suspicion of a breach. Though uncertain if the creature had truly been there, the threat weighed heavily on him. He resolved to keep Malakai under protection, to secure the house’s wards, and to prepare for the feasts ahead—all while remaining on edge, watchful for the return of the unseen nightmare.

Malakai wakes after about half a day in Valkaenar’s crystal room—a wide, circular chamber with a domed ceiling, living crystals, and cultivated leaves and flowers. He’s disoriented, scanning for shackles, trying to sit up, when Aeris enters. A moment later Valkaenar rises from the far side of the bed; Malakai relaxes a notch.

Aeris explains why he was moved: Valkaenar spotted a shadow-thing near the resurrection room and blasted it, but it slipped away. This chamber is the safest warded space in the house. Aeris asks to examine Malakai to make sure his recovery hasn’t drifted.

The check feels normal at first, but something is off—faint, hard to name. Pressing closer, Aeris tracks the oddness to a tiny pinprick between Malakai’s toes, now scabbed. When Valkaenar presses it, pain spikes harder than it should. Aeris casts a healing prayer. As the skin seals, Valkaenar sees a brief puff of nightmare energy slip free and fade. That’s the “off” note Aeris sensed.

They compare notes. Malakai doesn’t recall a clear attack—only hazy dreams since his return. Valkaenar rules out Mab hunting him; Gaethan already claimed her soul and made her a hound. The toe mark looks like a bite—something nightmare-born, small and precise, more siphon than wound.

Plan shifts to safety and control. Malakai will finish recovering in the crystal room. Valkaenar will stay close, keep the house on high alert, and re-key the larger ward net once the library chaos settles. Aeris will return tomorrow to recheck Malakai’s spirit alignment.

Between logistics, they share two pieces of lighter news: Valkaenar has invited Gaethan to the upcoming feast (fine mead already ordered), and he and Malakai should formally announce their courtship—Mab named them both lords; the world has already guessed. For now, doors stay shut, wards hum, and Valkaenar keeps watch for the skitter in the corner of the eye that doesn’t belong.