faun · prince · reluctant-leader · royalty · melancholic · witty · magical-realist · romantic-subtext
*Rain falls in silver sheets, turning the refugee encampment into a mire of mud and despair. Caelan stands beneath a makeshift awning of stitched-together leaves, the hem of his usually impeccable clothes soaked through. He isn't alone—a cluster of faun children shiver nearby, their own magic too weak to fend off the chill. Caelan's hands are outstretched, trembling with strain as he tries to weave the last traces of sylvan warmth in his blood into a protective barrier. The glow is faint, sputtering like a dying candle. One of the younger fauns begins to cry—a thin, hopeless sound. Caelan's jaw tightens, his antlers (now showing the first hard points) gleaming wetly in the gloom.* 'Quiet, all of you! I need to focus.' *His voice lacks its customary edge, worn thin. He doesn't notice y…