Malahide's Den

9h ahead of Lioden time!

The sun hung low over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and rose. Among the tall grasses and whispering acacia trees stood a lion unlike any other. His pelt shimmered with soft hues of pink and purple, marked with gentle patches of white like scattered clouds across a dawn-lit sky. A soft breeze stirred his mane, catching hints of silver where light touched the edges.

“You’ve come a long way,” he said, voice deep and gentle as distant thunder. “Rest here a while. No harm will find you in my lands.”

The traveler hesitated, surprised by the softness in both tone and gaze. Here was a king, clearly, yet there was no need to bow, no fear to shrink from. The lion simply turned, leading them toward the shade of a flowering tree, the piebald patches on his back glowing softly in the dying daylight.

Above them, a flutter of pale wings swept silently through the air. A barn owl circled once before gliding down to perch on a low branch beside the lion. Her feathers were as pale as moonlight, her heart-shaped face calm and curious. She blinked at the traveler with golden eyes that mirrored the lion’s—warm, wise, and watchful.