Recent content by Nym

Her breath caught like a sharp thing in her throat, clenching around the cry that wanted to tear free.. This was it... It hadn't been what she'd imagined for herself, but she couldn't find any regret. The venom burned like acid. It would get worse. Gods, it would get so much worse. But she...

She watched him - silent, unmoving save for the faint shudders still rattling his large frame. The antidote would work, eventually. The venom would leave him with every nerve tender as a burn for a time, but it would not kill him. Nym shifted to sit on the ground, her back resting against his...

The vial remained where it hovered, its cloudy contents catching the low light. But when he didn’t reach for it, when instead he turned those failing eyes up toward her, helpless, ruined and confused, her head tilted ever so slightly. Like a curious child peering at a dying thing in the dust...

Her brow lifted, just a touch. Curious. So he did want to live after all. Nym watched as his hand twitched toward the shattered remains, the milk-blue antidote already seeping into the cracks of the floor. Too slow. Too weak. Her lips pressed into a thin line, not in satisfaction, but in...

Nym didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. She simply stepped back one pace, a precaution. She had waited for this. Not just today. For years. She waited for it. The inevitable surprise to cross his face. Then the pain, and finally, the realisation. She watched it all unfold.. For...

He surely wanted to die. That had to be the only reason he dared to reach up and touch her face. To not only acknowledge the tears she shed but wipe them away, like he had the right. Like he had earned any gentleness between them. Like she hadn't wanted to carve his name into the graveyard of...

Her hand trembled, the blade trembling with it, and for a moment her whole body seemed to shake. The question he asked struck something deeper than any blade. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding in effort not to let her face betray the tears welling in her eyes. But they gathered there all the...

Surprise flickered in her gaze as he spoke of the Herald, just for a moment, her brow lifting in silent acknowledgment of something deeper than she’d expected. That recognition faltered the instant he mentioned the Fae King. Madness, then. That’s what had taken root in him. Her brows drew...

Nym stared down at him, the taste of victory curdling on her tongue. This was not how it was meant to go. She had come here expecting fire, resistance, rage. She’d pictured him rising like some ancient beast, eyes lit with hellfire, that old fury spilling from his mouth like molten gold. She...

Nym grinned. All white teeth and no warmth. She didn’t move as he crumpled, only shifted her weight against the pillar to better watch the show. His roar echoed off the forge walls, but it didn’t so much as flinch her. She’d heard it before. Louder, back then. Full of power. Now it was hoarse...

It was almost absurd, seeing him like this. The great conqueror, once draped in fire and glory, now wide eyed and reeling, like a stag chased into a trap. Uncertainty clung to him like sweat. Fear, even. Either he was playing a very long, very convincing game… or something had truly cracked in...

She could have laughed. Gods, she nearly did. It caught in her throat like a splinter, sharp and bitter and dry. Her lips curled, but it was not a smile. Not really. Her eyes never left him, twin blades carved of jade and fire, narrowed slightly. “Of Molthal,” she repeated, voice a velvet...

Ah. There they were. Those molten eyes. How many times had she seen them in her nightmares? How many nights had she woken in a cold sweat, hand curled over the phantom burn on her forearm, the invisible mark he’d left upon her, seared not into skin but into soul? Now they looked at her without...

The forge hissed and cracked, its molten heart glowing in defiance of the ocean wind. The scent of ash clung thick to the air, but Nym paid it no mind. She moved like a shadow given form. Elegant, purposeful, clothed in obsidian silks that whispered with each step she took across the scorched...

Nym’s breath hitched as Settra’s lips met hers, his whispered words sending a thrill down her spine. The tension of the moment, the weight of their shared burdens, dissolved in the heat of their closeness. Her hands moved of their own accord, sliding up the coarse fabric of his clothing, feeling...