The dim warmth of the inn/tavern flickered around Zearik as he sat at a corner table, his arm resting gently on Willow's shoulder. She stared blankly into the half-empty mug before her, but Zearik could feel the heaviness of the grief she held back, a fire still burning beneath her cool exterior. Outside, rain softly tapped against the windows, as if the world itself grieved alongside them.

The inn, though filled with the low murmur of the Ravenswood manor's displaced staff, felt heavy with absence. Zearik silently thanked the All-Mother that none of the children had been in the manor during the brust. Cedric's policy of mandatory paid weekends in town had saved the little ones.

But even the knowledge of their safety wasn't enough to stop Zearik's gaze from drifting to the two faint, translucent figures sitting across from him- Cedric and Rellia's souls, their expressions soft but distant. Only Zearik could see them clearly. Willow, for all her sharpness in battle, saw only the butterflies, their iridescent wings reflecting light that wasn't really there.

Carvis sitting between them, had his head tilted in confusion. His bright eyes narrowed, and he poked the air where Cedric's knee should be frowning when his hand passed through the space.

"Papa…" Corvis's voice trembled, "why are Grandma and Grandpa see-through? And why can't I sir on their laps?"

Zearik swallowed hard, struggling to hold his composure for Willow's sake, but it was Cedric's whisper that broke the moment. "It's okay, Corvis," Cedric soothed gently, his voice a soft breeze that only the little dragon could hear. "Grandma and Grandpa are just fine."

Zearik's gaze drifted, passing over more than just the souls of Cedric and Rellia. It was hard to bearth through the weight in his chest, seeing the familiar faces of others who had perished in the brust. Across the room sat the maid, Maggie, her soul quiet and still, watching over her grieving family. Her wife, Tawnie- head mage and advisors to the Ravenswood family- sat with their two young children, Chris and Lydia.

Tawnie's hands trembled as she brushed a tear from Chris's check. Chris, half-elf and gentle-natured, clung to his sister, Lydia, whose half-ork strength belied the vulnerability in her wide eyes. They sat in silence, their tiny hands interwoven, as if holding each other was the only thing keeping them from falling apart.

Zearik's heart twisted. He knew their story well, the love and hope Maggie and Tawnie had shared when starting their family. It had always been a bit of a joke in the household, how they'd both decided to endure the unpleasant necessity of finding men just long enough to bring their children into the world. Chris was Maggie's son by birth, and Lydia was Tawnie's daughter, but that never matter. Together, they had created a family built on love.

And now Maggie sat, her soul hovering between her wife and children, unable to comfort them.

As the air hung heavy with grief, the doors to the tavern's kitchen swung open, allowing in the scent of freshly baked bread and rich stew. Dratha, the half-ork and half-elf tavern owner, entered with a broad smile balancing trays of food with practiced ease. His tusks gleamed faintly in the low light as he handed out bowls of hearty stew and crusty bread to the weary group. Beside him, his partner, Hyrusa, followed, her hooves clicking softly against the tavern floor. "Her otherworldly presence, with shimmering white fur and the graceful build of a unicorn centaur, gave the space a touch of magic.

"Food always helps the heart," Hyrusa said in a melodic voice, passing out mugs of hot chocolate to the children. Her hands, though deft and gentle, carried the unique weight of someone who had seen both hardship and beauty in equal measure. 

The children's faces lit up as they wrapped their fingers around the mugs, the warmth offering a momentary distraction from the day's grief. Chris and Lydia each took a mug, their eyes wide with wonder as Hyrusa tousled their hair. Corvis, however, hesitated before accepting his. His wide eyes scanned the room again, as if expecting to see something more than comfort food.

The tavern itself seemed to breathe with its inhabitants. Thanks to Dratha and Hyrusa's mastery of pocket dimension magic, the space expanded well beyond its external walls, offering room for the entire displaced household. Zearik had alway marveled at their tavern- humble in appearance from the outside, but a small world onto itself within. It was almost like stepping into a warm embrace whenever you entered.

Dratha caught Zearik's eye, giving him a small nod of acknowledgement, as if to say, "We'll take care of them for now. You rest."

Vincent stumbled into the tavern, soaked from the heavy rain, his usual calm demeanor shattered by exhaustion and urgency. "We need to open the centaur doors," he said, his voice rough, not bothering to explain further.

Zearik, already on his feet, moved toward the back of the tavern, his instincts pushing him to help. Willow, tired and on edge, followed him, her irritation surfacing. "What in the world do you need the centaur doors for?" she demanded, her tone sharper than she intended.

Vincent barely glanced at her, his expression drained. "It's… complicated, Willow. Just trust me."

As Zearik opened the centaur doors, Willow and Vincent began to bicker, their typical sibling dynamic surfacing despite the situation. Zearik paid them little attention, focusing on the task at hand.

When the doors opened fully, they were greeted by Miruna, face solemn. Behind her was Papyrus, and a monstrous figure loomed in the rain, carrying Marcelia, fast asleep, on its back, soaked but safe.

Zearik swallowed hard, his voice low with disbelief. "What… is that?"

Willow's eyes widened as she struggled to find her voice. "Why is Marcelia with-" she gestured toward Rayner, unsure what to call the fae.

Corvis, watching from a distance, squinted at the figure. His voice, usually so full of youthful enthusiasm, grew quiet with concern. "Why is an Archfae here?" he asked softly, his sharp instincts picking up on something far more dangerous than anyone else had yet realized.

Rayner's voice, hoarse and weary, broke through the tension. "Vincent, please take Marcelia off my back. I'm near my pass-out point."

As Vincent moved to assist, Rayner's tired gaze shifted toward Zearik. "I haven't seen a human with your skin tone around here. Are you from the Great Savannah?"

Zearik, momentarily caught off guard, wasn't ready for a question that reminded him how different he looked from the people he would one day rule. His deep brown skin is a stark contrast to his wife Willow's pale, porcelain complexion. "No, but my mother is," he responded, pushing aside the racing thoughts that threatened to distract him.

With Vincent's help, Zearik carefully laid Marcelia on the couch near the fireplace. The heat of the flames gently flickered across her unconscious form, providing a sense of warmth and safety.

Suddenly, Rayner collapsed, utterly spent, his strength finally giving out. As his body hit the floor, his form shimmered, transforming back into his true self. To everyone's surprise (and possible embarrassment), Rayner lay completely unconscious and… completely naked.

The timing couldn't have been worse (or perhaps better) as Marcelia began to stir, slowly waking up to the sight of her Fiance, buck naked, sprawled on the floor.

Marcelia blinked groggily as she came to. Her thoughts betrayed her for a split second as a somewhat perverted thought crossed her mind, Well, he's definitely well-endowed. She was sure she wasn't the only one thinking it. "Thank the gods I grabbed some of Julius's clothes from his room," Miruna's melodic voice broke through Marcelia's daze, surprising her but filling her with relief to hear her future sister-in-law's voice.

"Zearik! Stop staring at it," Willow's voice snapped, sharp as a whip.

"You're staring too! So don't get mad at me for it!" Zearik shot back defensively, unable to hide his embarrassment.

The tension in the room built until Hyrusa, ver the straightforward one, casually interjected, "By the gods, whoever he is, that's one beautifully endowed fae.

Miruna sighed and facepalmed like a disappointed mother, "Marcelia, sweetheart, stop staring at your naked fiance and help me get some clothes on him."

"Fiance? What kind of bullshit is this?" Willow, for the first time in years, lost control of her filter. "When did you get engaged again? Did you not learn from the last piece of shit fiance?" Her eye visibly twitched in frustration.

Marcelia shot her sister an exasperated look as she knelt to help Miruna and Vincent dress Rayner. "Willow, I am not in the mood to discuss my ex. This thing with Rayner is different- it was an accidental proposal because of fae customs… We're taking things slow."

Zearik while helping, caught sight of Cedric and Rellia's souls inspecting this so-called new fiance. He couldn't help but smile at how protective they were, even in death. It made him grateful, once again, to have them as in-laws.

"Well, Cedric, my love, he is definitely better looking than the last one," Rellia's soul mused to Cedric.

"Grandma, good looking doesn't mean he's a good person," Corvis chimed in glancing at the souls with concern.

"I agree with Corvis!" Cedric grumbled, still in full protective father mode, even a spirt.

Zearik could feel the tension in the room rising as Willow's voice cracked like a whip, her frustration and protective instincts bubbling over. He cast a quick, uneasy glance at Cedric and Rellia's spirts, wishing his family could sense their presence the way he and Corvis could. The quiet wisdom, the souls nearby seemed to stand in stark contrast to the chaos in front of him.

'Willow, love, let's not yell at poor Marcelia," Miruna interjected gently, her voice calm and steady, a reminder of reason amid the storm.

"And besides, I like him so far, sis," Vincent chimed in with usual unruffled tone, attempting to lighten the mood.

Willow, however, was not to be pacified so easily. "Do you think I give a damn what you think about this so-called fiance?" er eyes burned with a protective fury that only intensified as she continued, "The last one nearly destroyed Marcelia's life!"

Zearik placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, but he couldn't deny his own concern. "And let's not forget, Willow, he's an Archfae," he added gravely. "They're not like the fae we're used to dealing with. Depending on where he's from in the Fae Wilds… Archfae can be as unpredictable as they are powerful."

Marcelia had just finished moving Rayner onto the couch with Vincent's help, carefully setting his head on her lap, hoping not to disturb his slumber. AS Willow and Miruna's argument continued, Marcelia focused on Rayner, gently brushing her fingers through his long, soft hair to keep herself grounded amidst the tension.

Miruna's irritation was beginning to show, her voice laced with a sharpness that cut through Willow's objections. The high-priestesses of the Sisterhood of the All-Mother did not take kindly to being ignored, especially when the All-Mother herself was speaking through them.

Then, Miruna's words dropped like a thunderclap. "Willow, he is not merely some fae- he is a prince."

A stunned silence fell over the room as the weight of her words settled in. Marcelia's hand froze for a moment as she processed the revelation, her mind spinning, A fae prince? The idea was almost surreal, adding depth and gravity to the man she so unexpectedly become engaged to.