The sword emoji separates different pieces of the story.  They are not in chronological order, just bits and pieces I've thought up so I can write something instead of nothing.  The pieces won't usually connect, so don't try to make sense of the timeline- there is none.

                                                                              ⚔️                                                                                    

 The trees muted the sunlight, filtering it to a green glow.  Darker green shadows danced with spots of sun across the pine-needled ground.  A breeze brushed through the tallest branches, shushing the two travelers who strode comfortably amongst the tall pines and wide maples.  

  The two travelers might have been a strange sight, had this not been their home.  One was a human named Quinn Hunter.  He had hair that covered his ears and forehead in its length, and toted a worn pack across his shoulders.  A walking stick swung in step with him, guided by his right hand.  

  His companion was a Clouded Leopard bigger than most horses.  His feet padded behind the human's, barely audible on the carpet of moss and pine straw.  His eyes were not the usual color of clouded leopards; they were the same bright green of the sunlight through the maple leaves. 

  "It's nice to be back home,"  Said the Clouded Leopard in a deep, rough voice.  "The other felines at the academy weren't great company.  No respect for elder or larger cats whatsoever."

  A smile touched Quinn's lips.  "Aw come on Yahante, Sashi isn't so bad!  You like her, right?"

  Yahante huffed.  "She thinks rather highly of herself.  Not much one to respect elders either, that one." He flicked the tip of his tail.

  "Ok, but aren't all felines like that?"  

  "I wasn't.  I knew my place." 

  "Yeah, and how long ago was that?"  He was just teasing Yahante now.  "Before Clubs Kingdom was founded?"

  "Long enough ago, it seems, for that way of raising kits has been out of style the past decade."  Yahante's voice had grown gruffer as the conversation wore on; now it struck a melancholy tone.

  "Hey, she was an orphan.  No one raised her."  He felt the need to defend his silver tabby riding feline he was training.  She had been taken in by the academy as a small kit, and was now the equivalent of a teenager.  It was true, she was very sassy and thought very much of her own self, but Quinn was hoping to take her on some quests with him and Yahante soon-- maybe that would help bring her down a couple notches.

  "I know, but she could at least--"

  A flicker of movement caught Quinn's eye.  In the trees to the right and in front, a figure dashed past the travelers at a speed that humans couldn't achieve in the densely packed tree trunks.  He stopped, barely breathing, trying to get a better look and hear footsteps.  He held out a hand to stop Yahante. 

  Yahante inhaled slowly, trying to scent out anything unusual.  "What was it,"  He asked in a quiet, low voice, "How big was it?"  

  "Not sure," Quinn squinted hard into the trees, scanning for more motion. "It was person-sized, I think. Whatever it is, it's fast."

  He thought he heard a tiny feminine giggle, an caught another glimpse of the thing.  It looked like a frail, nimble girl, with dark hair.  She vanished ahead, toward the town.  After another tense moment of standing frozen something clicked in Quinn's head.  

  "Oh," he exhaled, relaxing, "It was just Mirya."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah, she was probably just looking out for us and now she's gonna tell the town we're coming."

  A small snort puffed from Yahante's nostrils.  "No stealthy entrance?  No element of surprise?" He lamented.

  Another smile crept upon Quinn's face.  "I guess not," he agreed.  "Are they planning one some sort of party or celebration?"

  "I would think so.  After all, you are staying for a whole week before going on your quests."

  Unease flickered though his stomach.  He hadn't told Yahante about what Jasmine had told him through the mirrors yet, but now seemed like a good time before they reached the town.  The news had chased away much of his pleasant dreams of home and adventure the past three days-- news of a stranger with a strange companion brought with him in chains.  A stranger wearing a long cloak that hid his face from sight, seeming to swallow the light as he walked.  His 'companion', who looked like a prisoner to Jasmine, wearing manacles that seemed to be connected to an invisible chain the man used to haul her around.  When she was seen away from the man red rings marked where the manacles sat, but the shackles themselves were nowhere to be seen.  Both of the strangers looked road-worn and tough.  Jasmine said the man spent most of his time at the inn, and any interaction with him showed him to be gruff and borderline rude.  The girl though, she was nice and spoke softly.  The man scared most of townspeople.

  "Hey, before we get there, I need to tell you something."

                                                                                ⚔️

  A soft knock pulled Quinn out of his half-sleep.  He had just been drifting off into a dream...something about Sashi going kayaking?  

  Another soft knocking, more insistent this time.  Since he figured an intruder who would harm him wouldn't be knocking so politely, he sat up and called "Aye? Who is it?"  His voice sounded raspy from sleep.

  The door eased open, a shadow filling the gap. "Quinn?"  It was Jasmine.  "I can't sleep."

  Quinn let a small groan slip out. "What do you want me to do about it?  I was almost asleep just now."

  "How can you sleep right now?" She sounded surprised and maybe a little exasperated, a hand flapping to demonstrate her apparent mood.  "Tomorrow you're going off to the war griffin thing and could become a hatchlings first meat!"  Her voice rose, betraying how nervous she was for him.

  He realized he wasn't sleepy anymore, but felt perfectly awake.  He sighed.  "Well when you put it that way...you want to walk around to nowhere in particular?"  He kind of wanted to walk around, but sitting here in the dark just talking about nothing in particular sounded pretty nice too.

  "Nope, I already found somewhere."  She sounded awfully proud of herself; her silhouette puffed up its chest a little.

  "Oh?" 

  "Yeah!  Come on, I'll show you.  Great view up there."

  "Okay, gimme a minute.  Wait-- up there?  Up where?  You know heights and I are not friends."  A thrill darted through his ribcage at the thought of being somewhere up high, and moths began doing backflips in his stomach.

  "Yeah," She sounded like she'd already thought of this and had a solution, but he might not like it. "well the spot I found isn't close to any edges, and it has a rail of sorts.  Thought that might help."

  Sometimes, when there was a height that would give him wobbly knees and a headache from squinting, having something to keep him away from the edge did indeed help.  “Sometimes,”  he conceded.  “Depends on how high.”

  He was a little surprised how much she’d thought about his phobia.  Most of the time when someone heard he wasn’t great with heights, they just waved it off and told him “dont look down” or some other brilliant advice.  Occasionally he got looks of pity or sympathy, but not often.

  “Well…” she hesitated, and Quinn wondered why.  “Do you want to see if it works or it’s too high?” Her voice shivered.

  “Wait are you cold?”  

  “Just a little, it’s fffine, I’ll tough it outtt.”  Her silhouette hunched, her little arms folding over her underweight middle in a feeble attempt to gather a little heat.  

  “No, get your tiny ass in here.  There’s a spare blanket at the end of the bed.”  He berated himself for letting her stand in the doorway, in the cold, while he was all snuggled up under the thick covers.

  “Hey man, I’ve put on a little weight.”  She took two steps, turned to shut the door, and proceeded on to the end of the bed.  Her steps were small and quick, her bare feet pattering.

  Quinn jumped up.  The cool air breathed on his bare shoulders, causing some extra appreciation for the blankets.   At least he wasn't bare-chested -- he was wearing a soft shirt with the sleeves cut off.  “Here,”  he helped her adjust the thick quilt around her shoulders.  Her delicate fingers trembled, along with her bony shoulders.  “Dang Jas, you should have said something.”

  “Nnah,”  she chattered, taking a seat on the bed, “only one way to toughen up, right?”

  “It doesn’t work like that—“ he sat on the mattress next to her, “and you know it.”

  Jasmine made a little grumbling noise and leaned her shoulder against him.  Then her head dropped onto his shoulder.  He could feel her muscles relaxing.  

  “Hey,” he softened his voice; he was pretty sure she was falling asleep.  

  “Hm.” 

  “You sleeping?”  A tiny laugh bubbled out — she sounded so cute and grumpy.

  “I dunno.  What are you doin’?” Her words slurred together.

  “What are you doin’?” 

  “Mmm.  Shut.”

  “Are you falling asleep?”  He smiled down at her in the dark.  What am I gonna do with you, little hummingbird?

  Jasmine didn’t reply this time.  She was asleep, after so many hours of tossing around in her own room with a bed exactly like this one.  But the only thing that could relax her enough to finally drift off was her Quinn.

  Quinn lay back, letting her soft, light warmth press on the side of his body and her head nestle into his chest.  He wrapped his arms around her and he too, soon drifted off to pleasant dreams of home and comfort.

                                                                            ⚔️

Jasmine just got bitten by the Taks plant.

She gasped, jumping with no coordination away from the edge of the path right into Quinn.

  “What, what is it?  Jas, you good?  What happened?”  He stumbled as she slammed into his side.  They ended up in a heap on the left side of the road, Jasmine in Quinn’s lap.  

  “Damn… Plant…”  her teeth ground out the words.  Her skin, already pale, took on a pallor the color of spoiled milk and sweat slicked her brow.  

  “The… the Takses?  You got bit?”  Cayde was by their side now, his hands twitching.  

  “Quinn, what can I do.”  His voice was low, more serious than Quinn had ever heard him.  

  Jasmine’s breath was coming more and more shallowly now, her muscles loosening.  Her eyes drifted off into oblivion.  “Quinn… I’ll be okay…”  she spoke so faintly, so weakly.  Her hands locked onto his arms, her eyes focusing a little.  “Don’t— don’t leave…don’t leave me…”  then her entire body slackened, her head lolling back onto his shoulder.

  “I won’t, Jas, I will never leave-“ 

  “Quinn, what do I do?” 

  He could barely see.  He swiped the tears away, and stood, holding Jasmine like a tiny child in his arms.  

  “Get all the medicine we have, then we get back to the cabin.  It was only a mile or two back, right?”

  “Is our medicine gonna be enough?”  Cayde paused, elbow-deep in the medicine pack.  Quinn thought he had never seen him so serious.

  He turned back the way they had come.  He was not going to let Jasmine die, not after this narrow enough escape, and not by some shrubbery.  

  “It better be.”

  And he walked.

Back at the cabin

  Cayde had gotten a fire stoked up in the grate, filling the cabin with warmth and the smell of smoke.  Jasmine lay under a mound of covers, shivering but shining with sweat.  Her coat and boots sat by the door, abandoned.  Quinn sat by the bed, clutching her hand as she faded in and out of consciousness.  

  She sat up, a grin on her face.  "Quinn!" she cried, laughing.  "Why so serious?  I'm fine!"

  He flinched.  Her voice... it sounded fake.  Too full of cheer.  "Jas... what's the last thing you remember?"  He didn't let go of her hand.  

  A cloud seemed to pass over her face, darkening it and creasing  her brow.  "The road... The road!  Quinn!"  she was screaming, shouting out nonsense at the top of her lungs.  "The road Quinn!  The bird!  If your brother could see you now, oh what would he say?  Cayde, you little bitch--"  her head lolled back into the pillows, muffling her continued murmurs about roads and general nonsense.

  Quinn stared at her.  Why had she thought of his brother? He assumed she meant Simon, since Cayde was right there and Simon had been gone for years.  

  "What did I do...?"  Cayde's eyes were huge, confused.  Next to the fire, one side of his face was lit with yellow light, the other half obscured in shadow.

  "What?"

  "She called me a bitch...but I haven't done anything.  What does she think I did?"  His eyebrows were drawn low on his face.  

  "I don't think she's in her right mind.  You saw her!  She doesn't act like that."  Quinn heard a note of desperation in his voice, and realized he was trying to convince himself just as much as Cayde.  "I think we can assume anything she says or does right now is the Taks poison, messing with her."

  A giggle rose from the blankets.  "Cayde...Quinn...Were are you?"  he could barely recognize the voice as Jasmine.  A crazy lady from the woods would have this voice, not her.  "Come on, don't hide.  I won't get you."  The blankets shifted and rustled, the lump that marked her body moving around underneath.  She seemed to just be burrowing in circles.

  Then she burst out, gasping for breath.  Hey eyes were wide, as if in terror.  But they weren't their normal bright fantasy green-- they were milky white.  Jasmine cast her head around, seeking something she couldn't find.  "Hey!" she shouted, as if into a great distance. "This isn't funny, Hunter!"

  Hunter?  She hadn't called Quinn by his last name in years.  "Jas,"  He said softly, "I'm right here."

  She didn't acknowledge him.  "Hunter!"  he flinched back at her loud tone.  Her eyes still shifted around, looking.  "You know I'm blind!"

  "What?"  Cayde stood up from his crouch by the fireplace.  "Since when?  You've never been blind, never even needed glasses!"  

  Jasmine's head whipped around, her mouth forming a snarl.  "Little Hunter.  I should have known."  she rose out of the blankets, standing on the mattress so she towered over Cayde.  She looked right at him, or at least where his voice came from.  "I should have known,"  Her features full of disgust, she stepped gracefully off the bed.  "Should have known you would steal my sight for yourself."

  "What?"  Cayde took a step back.  "Girl, I don't know what you're--"

  "Don't lie."  She walked confidently toward him, although her eyes were still sightless.  "I know exactly what--"  She tripped over the medicine bag, sprawling face first into the floor.  Quinn tried to catch her but was too far away to reach her in time.  She came up, howling profanities.  

  "Ooookay crazy-lady-who-looks-like-Jasmine-but-is-not,"  Quinn held her shoulders and tried to push her back from Cayde.  "I think that's enough.  Back to the bed, go on."

  Jasmine collapsed, her sudden lifeless weight almost making him lose his footing.  She began to cry.  "Quinn..."  She sobbed,  "Where did you go?"  She looked up at him, and he almost dropped her.  

  The vibrant green was back in her eyes, but blood was leaking out of them like tears.  

  She kept weeping, turning away from him.  He grabbed her arm but she shook his hand off.  Her knees hit the wood floor with a thud, her sobs turning to wails of anguish.  Blood pattered on the floor in little crimson droplets.  Then the coughing began.  

  Great, hacking coughs that racked her whole body.  Quinn and Cayde tried to pick her up off the cold floor, to put her back on the bed, but she flailed and screamed as if they were tearing her skin off.  So they wrapped a blanket around her and tried not to let her hurt herself.

  Cayde brought a cup of water over.  "Jasmine, you ought to drink some,"  He lifted it to her lips but she bit the lip of the cup, throwing it across the room with a sharp flick of her jaw.  Her head had been nestled on Quinn's chest, so she head butted him in the mouth.  He tasted blood.

  Thus it went, for hours.  Jasmine would be a crying mess one instant, a cackling madwoman the next. She developed a fever and refused any food, water or medicine.  She got up once and tried to force to door open but Quinn had made sure it was locked.  She screamed and wailed, pounding with her fists and scratching with her nails until Quinn and Cayde managed to drag her back to the bed.  

  Throughout the day, she cried more blood tears and had another bout of coughing, this time speckling the quilts on the bed with thick, dark blood.  She threw up on Cayde then passed out in the vomit that made it to the floor.  While Cayde cleaned up himself in the stream outside, Quinn leaned Jasmine's back up against the bed and wiped the sick off her face. 

  She came too, glancing around until she saw him.  "Wha...Quinn...?"  Her voice rasped in her throat questioningly.  "Where... where am I?"

  "Hey, hey Jas,"  He set the damp cloth he was using to mop her face down in the bowl of water and supported her shoulders.  "We're in the cabin.  You remember?"  

  "Wh..." she couldn't form the words, but her eyes asked a dozen questions.

  "It's okay."  he softly brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.  "I'm here, you're safe.  It's gonna be okay."

  She nodded, but kept staring at him like she was seeing him for the first time.

  "What is it?"

  "You're.." the words again escaped her grasp.  So she settled for reaching up and touching his cheek with light fingers.  "Quinn."

  A tiny laugh slipped out.  "Yup.  That's me."  his hand drifted up to cover hers.

  Jasmine's lips twitched, perhaps into a semblance of a smile.  Water gathered in the corners of her eyes.  She seemed closest to normal since being bitten.

  Quinn stared into her bright green eyes.  His favorite eyes.  "Hey,"  He reached his free hand to swipe away the tear that trickled from the corner of her eye.  "What is it?  Talk to me Jas, what's wrong?"

  A shaky breath inflated her chest.  She blinked, pushing more tears out onto her cheeks.  "I'm... not okay."  She barely breathed the words, but they drove little knives into his heart.

  "I know, I know."  Now his vision was blurring.  "But you will be, you hear me?  I will make you better, you will get better."  He willed the words to be true, for them to not be a lie.

  A smile, a real one, curved her mouth as she looked away, chuckling breathily.  

  "What?"  Quinn felt himself smiling too, despite how heavy his heart felt.

  Jasmine looked at him, looked into his eyes and whispered, "You're real cute, you know that?" 

  His face was hot.  It was really hot in the cabin.  "Why do you say that?"  

  She tapped him on the nose, and he realized how close they were sitting.  He'd never felt shy or awkward much around her but now he thought his skin was surely crawling with ants made of ice.  "You're just cute.  At least,"  she blinked slowly, as if falling asleep.  "I think so."  

  "Okay, but why?"

  "Deal with it," she slurred drunkenly.  Her head wobbled, her coordination failing, her face tilting towards his.

  He stared into her eyes.  They were so close, he could feel her breath on his face.  So close he could see all the tiny designs in her beautiful, perfect eyes and every speck of dried blood from her tears on her cheeks.  His hand cupped her chin, keeping her steady.

  Footsteps on the little porch.  The door sliding open.  The feet stopping in their tracks.  "Quinn!"  

  They jerked away from each other as if electrocuted.  Quinn adopted a neutral expression automatically, as if he hadn't been caught with his face two inches away from Jasmine's.  "Yeah?"

  With a squeak, Jasmine promptly fainted, her head bouncing off the mattress and falling to the floor, but Quinn managed to get hold of her head and shoulders before she could hit.

  "Look what you did!"  He whisper-yelled at Cayde.  

  "I didn't do anything!"

  "Help me get her up here,"  He swiftly changed the subject.  

  With Cayde's help he lifted Jasmine up and nestled her back in the blankets.  She didn't wake, so Quinn was hopeful she would stay asleep this time and wake up back to herself.

                                                                                ⚔️

The trees swayed, tilting at unusual angles.  The ground, a carpet of mossy stones, rippled like water almost boiling.  Roots jumped out of the soil to trip him up as Quinn staggered toward the little ribbon of water that would lead him back to the cabin.  

  His hands landed on the ground without warning.  One was seated in moss, the other scraped raw from a rough rock.  The cheerful chatter of the little stream barely reached his ears, or the sound was blocked by the raspy breaths that drew shakily into his lungs and the dull thumping of his exhausted heart.  His vision blurred further, then he was hacking, coughing up half a pulverized lung it seemed.  Blood oozed between his split lips, splattered on the happy moss blow him.  His eyes watered, tracking wavering lines through the filth that caked his cheeks.  

  A beetle meandered up to his hand.  It's wings were a delicate rose gold, shielded by a shiny, iridescent carapace.  The tiny antennas twitched and brushed against his fingers, curiously checking out his pockmarked skin.  The beetle grew from the size of a peanut to the size of a plum, leaping up at his face for no apparent reason.

  Cold.  Quinn jerked awake, coughing and spluttering, creek water soaking his hair and shirt.  His face, already beat all to hell, was further bruised by the little pebbles in the bottom of the stream.

  How did I end up there?  He must have passed out.  But his little nap in the cold water had helped him feel more awake, if not much better.

  Shaking hands splashed water on his face, trying to clean it of blood.  The frigidity numbed his face, providing relief from the cuts and bruises marring his features and making any facial movement painful. But it soon started to cause shivers, so he decided to move onward.

  The first leg held up to his weight, but his right leg failed, sending him crashing back down into a pile of leaves.  A stick, a cursed stick, stabbed right into the tender wound in his stomach.  A smothered cry escaped through his tightly clenched teeth.  His abdomen was full of wasps, swarming up to his skull and filling it with clouds of acid... 

  One hand latched onto a low branch above him.  At least, he assumed it was a branch-- he could barely see it.  Pulling himself up, he pushed with his good leg until he stood, his right leg hovering above the ground.  Testing it one more time, he lowered it to touch the ground.  It held, but barely.  

  Gotta get moving.  Gotta get back to Cayde and Jas!  But which way?  Upstream, that's the way.

  So upstream he stumbled.  His right leg could barely take any weight, slowing the pace to a crawl.  Every tree he passed, he leaned on it for balance, leaving a red smear or handprint behind, a cursed mark of his presence.  The shivers continued to shudder his body, the trees kept leaning at funny angles and all the while he pressed a hand to his midsection where a wound of unknown severity leaked blood between his fingers, dripping stickily over his hand and staining his shirt with red.

  Time disappeared.  There was only limping along, the sun beating at his back through the trees, occasionally pausing to cough blood.  Twice he blinked and opened his eyes on the ground, his head more fuzzy than before.  His throat began to feel like tree bark, dry and scabbed.  

  Great.  If I don't bleed to death, I can just dehydrate.  Wait, no.  I'm right next to a creek.

  Even his thoughts felt indistinct and numb.

  More blood, more tripping, more falling.  More hacking coughs.  More blood.

  I must be almost drained dry.  The thought amused him.  He laughed-- or tried to.  It felt more like a cough with humor than a real chuckle.  Oh, now it's funny how I'm missing most of my blood.  Yeah, doing great, me.

  Another chuckle.  Another stumble.  His aches and pains started to feel less sharp, the discomfort draining away.  That couldn't be a good sign... But he couldn't make himself care.  

  Eventually, hours or seconds later, his right leg disappeared.  It was still there, the dead meat hanging off his tortured frame, but it wasn't really there.  He couldn't feel it, move it, think about it...

  Quinn was on his back.  The sky was so pretty.  A lovely blue-green, like eyes, but more blue than the eyes...  The trees reached toward him, asking if he wanted to go on, to leave, asking where his parents were, asking what the square root of numbers in a box would be if they ate -3 pieces of boiled ham...  The woodsmoke smelled delicious.  If only he could just lick it out of the air.  Someone chuckled.  It might have been him, but who knows?  Maybe it was the numbers in the box.

  Some teeny, tiny voice behind his ear asked, 'woodsmoke?  the cabin, you dying dumbass!  get up get up get...'

  There was a wooden cube over to his right.  It had smoke drifting from a hat on top of the cube, twirling in the wind.  Smoke that told him to get up.  Smoke that was so gray, it was the most smokey looking smoke Quinn had ever seen.

  There was a door in the wooden cube.  The door had a little round handle.  When had he appeared on this porch?  Must've been magic.  A hand swatted at the handle until it moved away, the door getting out of his way.  So polite... 

  There was a girl inside the cube.  Her name...She couldn't have a name, she was too beautiful for a name.  Her hair was dark like nothingness, her arms were cleaning some eating utensil that looked like a fork and probably was a fork.

  Everything was still moving slow, but it didn't look quite so hazy now.

  The girl turned around.  Hummingbird... A raspy voice said the words as he thought it.  Who was that? Her eyes were the color of the sky, but more green.  They were wide, so wide.  He could get lost in them and just...

  "Hey, Hummingbird."  that voice again.  Who was it?  Was that his voice?  Who was he?  Who was this perfect girl?

  The girl was running now, her every footstep pounding and echoing in his skull.  She had almost reached him, almost caught him, but the floor wanted to catch him instead.  As everything went somewhere else, leaving him all alone, he could hear an angel's voice.  "Quinn!  Cayde!  Quinnnn, stay with me, you stupid, stupid...Quinn don't leave... Quinn..."  

  Why would I leave?  How would I?  But these thoughts never made it past the wispy stage of barely-thought before even the thoughts left.  No thought, no floor, no sky.  No anything.

                                                                                ⚔️

trying to plot it out::

->the plot in one sentence: Quinn is graduating from the Spiiranian Academy for Explorers and has to complete trials and quests from the four queens of the land to be considered ready.

->the plot in three sentences: 1. Quinn is graduating from the academy and before he goes off on his initiation quests, he visits home.

2 something goes wrong and him, his gf and younger brother have to go out and stay on the run while Quinn completes his quests, pretending nothing is wrong. 

3 in the end he uncovers a plot by the two queens on the north to assassinate Isadare, queen of Clubs; he has to either bring it to light or discreetly derail the plan with the help of two Hearts siblings.

-> Beginning in three sentences: after four years of training, Quinn is almost ready to graduate from the Spiiranian Academy for Explorers but first, he has to complete a trial from each of the four queens of the land.  he goes back to his little hometown for a week before starting his quests, but weird/unusual/dangerous stuff is afoot and the whole town ends up ON FIRE and he and his gf and younger bro have to haul ass outta dodge.  they decide he should continue his quests, to pretend everything is normal and fine, while collecting info, allies and enemies.

->middle-ish in three sentences: 1they get started roaming the land, going from kingdom to kingdom, trying to avoid the guy on their tail who seems to be a bounty hunter out to capture Quinn. 

2.at Hearts, they team up with Amelya and Thaddeus, who are both completing their trials as well.  

3.the bounty hunter, who is actually a private hitman from Hearts, kills Thaddeus as he tries to protect Quinn, and Amelya loses her shit and goes full batshit insane and kills lots of people.

->ending in three sentences: 1. at the last quest, Amelya betrays them to the Hearts people cause she actually really wants to prove herself to her father and her queen.  

2.Quinn tries to tell the [dude who's in charge of the academy] about the plot but he knows and just yeets Quinn in a jail cell. 

3. Amelya gets a redemption arc as she tries to undo the damage to her friends, by self-destructing a whole bunch of dangerous stuff that messes up the assassination plot and she goes up with it.  yay redemption.

🙃🙃🙃

hot damn I just made an AU

Quinn goes dark side in his devotion to Jasmine.  that 'id do anything for you but taken too far' trope

😶😶😶

Thaddeus's eyes widened.  In slow motion, Amelya watched as the red stain washed over him, stealing away the life that had been there, leaving only coldness in its place.  His form hit the ground, so limp and soft.  The foliage leaned toward him, taking her bother in their caress.  

Her eyes, burning of tears and too many feelings to name, turned to the man standing in the space Thaddeus had fallen from.  Amelya saw him, but didn't see a man; there was only a killer, a twisted monster who sought to take her home from her.  

Everything was slowed to the point of being fast-forwarded.  She crossed her wrists, pulling her daggers out from her flesh.  Dimly, she heard Quinn calling her name, calling her brothers name.  Too late, Hunter...he cant hear you now.  A twisted semblance of a smile, contorted to a savage snarl with the storm boiling in her chest, split her bloodied lips.  

"Whoopsies.  That was my brother."  The nameless storm in her chest burned up to her head... just heat and clouds of shadow struck through with lightning ready to kill.  Her usual dark humor was a whole new shade of dark.  "Bad move, buddy."  The grin widened, releasing a rising cackle that showed her why insane people were sometimes referred to as mad.  

She had raced forward without thought, now she was behind the killer as he sprinted away.  Everything burning her from the inside out was merely fuel, pushing her on, faster and faster... she was in reach now, one good leap and she could tackle him -- but he planted his feet, shouldering her back.  he whirled, that knife flashing at her ribs, the lifeblood from it's last kill still glistening on the narrow blade.  Amelya dove at his wrist, clamping her teeth through his sleeve, bursting veins and tearing tendons as sweet copper flooded her mouth.  

the killer's screams barely reached her ears.

A blow from the side knocked the flesh from her mouth, blood spraying from both the wrist and her soaked tongue.  with a Feral scream she rolled out of the way, a sharp kick sending her flying off balance.  Amelya whirled to her feet, ducking another punch and quarterback-tackling him to the cold ground.  Shrieking uncontrollably, she rained strikes on his face as fast and hard as her adrenaline and grief-fueled muscles would allow -- very, very fast and hard.  The man squirmed and thrashed, his attempts to dislodge her entirely futile in the face of her fury.  

Amelya took one of her daggers and plunged it between his ribs, right below his heart.  She felt his ribcage contract as he screamed into the unforgiving air.  That cruel grimace still frozen on her bloody face, she screamed with him; a scream of fury and hate and laughter at how helpless he was now.  

She twisted the knife in the space, driving the ribs apart.  More sticky red flowed onto her skin, a hot bath of vengeance; she loved the feeling.  

With a final desperate flail, the assassin kicked her off his torso, sending her flying back into the stunted trees lining the road.  Her head smacked into a more sturdy trunk, the branches tangling mercilessly in her hair.  The killer stood, pressing a hand to the gaping gash in his side.  He staggered, falling to one knee with a muffled cry.  The next instant he had whipped a small knife and it was flying toward her chest.  With a scream, she wrenched herself free from the grasping branches that clung to her hair and clothes, falling to all fours in the dewy undergrowth.  An impact blossomed pain in her side.  She was on her shoulder now, looking up through bloody lashes at the face that leered down at her.  

"Fuck off," she groaned.  "I don't have time to get killed by a backstabbing coward such as yourself."

He laughed, sound so pleasant she wanted to surgically remove it with rusty spurs and no anesthesia.  "Oh?  A coward?"  He crouched, his mud-green eyes burning into hers.  "The only coward here is the little girl who ran from her father, from her life of prestige and glory in the Hearts capital."  The snarl carved into his mouth matched the one on Amelya's.

She flinched away.  "I'll have you know that I was pushed away, told to get lost."  Now she leaned closer, hoping he could smell the blood on her breath.  "Now fuck off like a regular old coward before I kick your ass again."  To the assassin it hopefully appeared that she was clutching at her stomach, but her crossing her wrists again, preparing for another fight.  But he just laughed some more.

"Riiiiight, *you* will kick *my* ass.  But,"  He stood, rolling his neck.  "I dont see you on your feet and ready, little girl.  So I think I'll finish my job here; what kind of professional assassin would I be if I left a target alive, hmm?"