A little peek into the characters within my fantasy world of Tenebraethia.

The air in the grand chamber was thick with a silence that hung like a weighted cloak over the room. It was a strange contrast—the space itself, vast and opulent, seemed to breathe, yet the tension between the four people within made it feel impossibly small.

The walls of dark stone, inlaid with intricately carved designs that whispered of ancient history, stood as silent witnesses to the exchange. Behind Eirlys, the massive windows framed the endless twilight of Tenebraethia, the sky caught in a perpetual state of dusk, neither day nor night. Thin, silver clouds hovered low, casting eerie shadows on the floor. Outside, the faint hum of the Ziri Waterfalls, long dried to a trickle, echoed through the stillness—a constant reminder of the land’s former grandeur, now a shadow of its past.

Eirlys sat with an almost unnerving stillness. Her black hair, thick and cascading down her back in carefully defined waves, caught the dim light, reflecting hints of silver like strands of the night itself. Her long fingers drummed ever so slightly on the table, the only outward sign of her impatience. She wore a form-fitting black leather jacket, zipped up high, paired with tailored slacks, the sharp lines of her outfit clashing against the softness of her expression. Yet her eyes—those deep, knowing eyes—betrayed little. She was waiting. Assessing. Always the sentinel, always watching.

To her left, Eirinia leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her heterochromatic eyes—one a deep, smoldering brown, the other a sharp, unnatural magenta—fixed squarely on Silas. Her stare was piercing, as if she were peeling back layers of his very soul with nothing but her gaze. Her hair, cut into a sleek bob, had a slight auburn undertone that softened the severity of her look, though it did nothing to blunt the precision in her movements. The tailored tweed blazer she wore over a simple white shirt hinted at her practicality. She favored clean lines, subtlety—there was no room for excess in Eirinia’s world, not when she held the memories of countless lives in her hands. Her voice, when she spoke, was always clipped, efficient, a surgeon’s scalpel of words.

Eivey, seated at the far end, was the visual opposite of her sisters, yet the most public-facing, the most admired by the people. Her springy coils were tied back in a low ponytail, auburn highlights catching the light as she idly adjusted her thick, gold-rimmed glasses. There was a warmth to her—her clothing, a vibrant green bomber jacket over a mustard-yellow sweater, her jeans cuffed above ankle boots—exuded a playful confidence. She leaned forward, fingers steepled under her chin, but her usual bright expression was absent. The light in her left eye, that same magenta hue shared with her sisters, seemed to burn with barely veiled distrust.

In front of them stood Silas, dwarfed by the grandeur of the chamber and the enormity of what he was trying to do. His figure was tall but unassuming, dressed in a black peacoat and dark jeans, boots that hinted at a long journey. There was something normal about him, something grounded. But the Noxthorne triplets, who could warp the fabric of dreams, memory, and life, had no patience for normalcy. Not in their world.

Silas cleared his throat, the tension in his shoulders evident even as he tried to keep his voice steady. “I understand why you’re protective. You have every right to be.” He paused, his eyes moving between the sisters—lingering on Eivey, whose gaze was the sharpest. “But you don’t need to worry about me being a threat. I’m not here to upend your lives, or hers.”

Eivey’s lips twisted into a thin smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not worried,” she said, her voice rich with sarcasm. “Just curious how you think you could ever stand with us. With her.” She leaned back, arms crossing over her chest as her jacket rustled. “Eirlys isn’t like anyone else, Silas. And to stand next to her means more than… feelings. It means understanding what that weight does to someone.” Her voice softened, but it remained laced with a challenge.

“And you?” Eirinia cut in, her tone sharp and cool, ever pragmatic. “Do you really believe you understand what it means to be in her shadow?” Her fingers tapped against the armrest of her chair, as though she were calculating something. “She carries the legacy of Noxthorne—dreams that can shape reality, not just bend it.” She raised a brow, her magenta eye seeming to glow faintly in the dim light. “How can you stand beside her when you don’t even grasp the magnitude of what that means?”

The room fell still again, the question hanging in the air like a guillotine.

Silas took a breath. He wasn’t sure if it was the right one, but it was all he had. “I’m not here to prove myself,” he said, voice firm but not overbearing. “Eirlys isn’t a prize to be won.” His eyes moved to her for the first time since the conversation began, and there was a softness in his gaze that was genuine, unpretentious. “But I do know what it’s like to walk with someone who carries a burden. I don’t need to bear it for her, but I won’t leave her to carry it alone.”

For a moment, the shadows in the room seemed to shift, as though the house itself was listening.

Eirlys, who had been silent up to this point, finally spoke. Her voice was soft, but there was no doubt she commanded attention. “He’s not wrong,” she said, more to her sisters than to Silas. Her dark eyes flickered toward Eivey and Eirinia, a subtle message passing between them.

Eivey’s gaze wavered, but only slightly. She leaned forward again, narrowing her eyes at Silas. “You think that’s enough? Standing beside her?” Her fingers tapped the edge of the table. “It’s not just about showing up. You need to understand who we are—who she is—and that means being more than just an admirer.” She tilted her head. “So far, I’m not impressed.”

Eirinia, ever the calculating one, nodded slowly. “Maybe time will tell if you’re as steady as you think. But you hurt her, Silas—” she paused, her gaze sharpening like the edge of a knife ”—and you’ll have more than just her to answer to. You’ll answer to us. To me.”

Silas let out a slow breath, the weight of the moment still pressing down on him, but the worst seemed to have passed. He glanced once more at Eirlys, who gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said quietly.

The sisters, for all their suspicions, had begun to relent—just a little. Their bond, older and more powerful than most could comprehend, wouldn’t be easily swayed. But in this moment, Silas had managed something few could boast of: a tentative step into their world.