Article I #2
Elara just smiled that knowing, too-old smile Beth had come to recognize and turned back to the cutting board, the blade flashing again.
Outside, the clamor of laughter and the scent of wildflowers drifted through the open windows, the town already buzzing for the night to come. Beth peeled faster, the low hum of anticipation curling at the edges of her skin even if she told herself she was above it.
Even if she knew better.
LITHA CELEbrATIONS, Oreads’ sacred ground.
Gaelithian Lithorn Halthin, son of Lithorn Halthin Caladwel and third name in the line of the High Elves title, was bored and slightly pissed off.
Maybe once he would’ve preferred music and alcohol to a quiet forest at dawn.
Not anymore. Surely not now. Now was the worst time for distractions.
He was on the brink of literally revolutionizing the state’s energy grid.
His affinity with the earth had revealed a network of untapped geothermal power, heat pulsing just beneath the surface.
Clean, steady, and silent, it meant fewer emissions, preserved landscapes, new jobs, and real change.
He just needed a public commitment from the last political holdout.
One solid yes, and the whole damn thing could finally move forward.
Instead, he was in Mystic Hollow because, as his mother had so charmingly put it, showing support for the High Lord and Lady during Litha is your duty.”
And duty was duty.
Gael might’ve been irritated, but he wasn’t the kind of elf who shirked a responsibility. It was what it was. Litha celebrations, ancient vows, and a gathering that mattered to more than just politics. Even though politics would benefit all.
He’d bet his life neither Aryon nor Elara actually needed him standing around looking ceremonial, but it wasn’t about need.
It was about respect.
It was about tradition.
And whether he liked it or not, Gael would always show up when it mattered.
Let’s be clear, the party rocked. The music?
Great. With the speakers thumping, magiks buzzing on the highest night of the year, and humans only adding fuel to the fire, it was a miracle the trees didn’t start dancing and partying too.
Elara and Aryon’s pub handled the drinks, so naturally, they were flowing and flawless.
He sipped his hard cider standing just beyond the main clearing where the heart of the celebration roared to life.
It slid down his throat cool and crispy.
Gael sipped again as he observed the people dancing, or what had started as dancing and had now devolved into reeling, flailing, and occasionally falling over in the moss.
A rave in the forest. Who would’ve thought?
He let out a slow breath and dropped onto the grass, settling his back against the ancient stone that marked the entrance to the sacred cave of the Oread clan, comfortably removed from the worst of the music and the crowd.
At least it was clean chaos, he thought. No artificial highs, no chemical fog rolling through the trees. Just magic, some alcohol, and the reckless joy that didn’t care how short the night was, only how bright it burned.
The Mountain’s sacred ground deserved better, and tonight, thanks to Jade, it was getting it.
The last time he’d visited his cousins, the Oreads had been one of the most closed-off, stuck-up factions in all of magik, second only to the Dragons.
Then the Mountain chose Jade as successor, and, well, this happened.
Gael had to admit, compliments were in order.
Youngest Oread Chief in history, and clearly the boldest. As a member of the High Family, he was expected at the upcoming formal summit of the Fey: Elves, Nymphs, and Fairies.
None was as powerful as the Elves, but they shared old ties, and every few years, they came together to get an update on life.
So yes. He’d meet the new Chief, and he’d compliment this glorious mess with all of his honesty.
He closed his eyes, dropping his shields and opening his senses to the forest’s energy, chuckling to feel it as joyous as the crowd.
“Maybe you should get off your brooding ass and come dance.” Valerian, his younger twin, lightly kicked his crossed ankles, dislodging one foot.
“Not brooding. Thinking.”
“Whatever. Shut up and come dance.” He crouched, elbows on his knees. “You’ve been working nonstop for too long, bro. You need a break.”
“What I need is to get back to it. I’m so close I can taste it, Val. Sitting here, drinking, won’t make it happen. No matter how cool this thing is.”
“It’s cool, right?”
“Obscenely.”
Val punched his foot. “Then come. You won’t work, regardless. Might as well enjoy it.”
That was a very good point, Gael conceded. He got up, brushing the moss from his jeans. “Let's refill first,” he said, shaking his now-empty glass.
They crossed the clearing, plunging into the thick of the celebration where the crowd moved like a living tide.
Bodies spun and swayed, laughter and songs threading through the heavy, electric air.
Drums thudded in his chest. Heat pressed against his skin, rising from the crush of bodies packed so close.
Gael didn’t particularly like crowds, but tonight, the energy was golden, untamed.
They made for the bar set up under the trees, a long plank of oak stacked with bottles and kegs. He was halfway there when it hit him.
The scent.
He caught the whiff before he saw her, barely there in the sea of humanity and grass, but it threaded through, quiet and stubborn.
Sweet, but not cloying. A hint of honeyed citrus, something green and sun-warmed–the way the forest might smell if it bloomed just for him.
It wasn't heavy or overwhelming like so many others around him.
It was subtle, and natural, and good. His head turned instinctively toward it. And then there she was.
Beth.
Standing in line at the bar, her arms folded loosely across her chest, Beth tapped one foot to the rhythm of the music without seeming to realize it.
A sheen of sweat clung to her face, her olive complexion already deepened by the sun.
Her wavy hair, normally yanked back into a tight, no-nonsense ponytail, was loose tonight, wild and tousled, catching the torchlight in unruly glints.
He let his shields drop all the way down, letting his magic brush her aura. Yeah.
Still beautiful. Still bright. Vibrant yellow, green, and blue tangled together, punching something low and uncompromising in his chest. A pull he’d never had the time or the luxury to examine too closely.
The first time he’d seen her, grief had dulled her colors to brown and grey, as if the world itself had dimmed around her.
She’d been working at Aryon and Elara’s pub for nearly a decade now, and they’d crossed path plenty of times.
Polite nods, clipped greetings. The small, accidental moments that could have meant nothing.
Should have meant nothing. Aryon and Elara never said much about her, so he didn’t even know her story.
Not really. Which was a shame because she had struck him from the start, a human refusing to bend under a grief so overwhelming most magiks would’ve crumbled under.
And as her colors came back, he’d realized he liked looking at her.
Looking at the way she moved, like she didn’t owe the world a damn thing.
He was used to beings who measured their worth in centuries.
Ancient, patient. Cold. She was none of those things.
She burned with the fierce immediacy of someone who knew time was short and planned to live every second of it.
He liked how her laughter belonged to someone who had fought for it.
And maybe, if he was being honest in a way he didn’t usually allow, maybe part of him had been waiting.
Waiting for the grief to ease from her bones.
For the colors to come back. Waiting for the girl with the subdue eyes and the unsmiling mouth to become a woman of bright edges and living light.
Unable to help, because why would he, he’d waited for her to be better so he could breathe better.
Not because he wanted anything from her.
He wasn’t that foolish. But she unsettled something in him, deep and slow-moving and that didn’t like being disturbed.
And so, he just wanted to know she was okay.
She got her drinks with a smile, walked away without even knowing he was there and he lost sight of her and her scent.
“Really?” Valerian was staring at him, one eyebrow lifted in clear amusement.
Gael snapped his shields back up, cutting off the world so fast it almost made his teeth ache. He followed his twin away from the thickest part of the crowd until they found a quieter patch still filled with people, but where he didn’t have to yell to be heard.
“What?” he asked, already bracing for it.
“Beth?” Val frowned, not judging, just surprised.
“You’re supposed to stay away from my mind and aura.”
“You were loud, my brother. And again. Beth? Nothing wrong with it. I like her. Just didn’t expect that.”
Gael waved the idea off with a snort. “She’s human. Cute, sure. But not enough to tempt me.”
OH, WOW.
Beth froze, glass halfway to her mouth.
She and Ann had found a seat a little apart from the main crowd, where the undergrowth thickened and the edge of the forest began to creep in.
Their spot gave them a mostly secluded view of the clearing, tucked just far enough into the trees to be hidden, but still close enough to hear the music, the laughter, and, apparently, conversations that weren’t meant for her.
From that half-shadowed vantage point, Beth had spotted Gael and Valerian nearby.
She hadn’t spoken much to Gael over the years, just a handful of polite exchanges, but things with Val had always been easier and warmer.
And they were Elara and Aryon’s family. Normally, she’d have gone over to say hi.