The Divine Shallows

Chapter 18Keeper’s Aegis

18

Keeper’s Aegis

The Kingdom of Prymont unfolded in breathtaking splendor, its ethereal castle perched high among clouds in a sky of blue. Elowyn gazed out from one of the castle’s balconies, marveling at the city and towns nestled upon neighboring clouds, a metropolis of magnificent architecture and domiciles. What captivated her most were the fey of House Skyborn, gliding effortlessly between cloud communities on gossamer wings.

The Fourth Day of the Ceremony, the Keeper’s Aegis, was hosted in Prymont this season. Elowyn’s thoughts drifted to her childhood visits to the Skyborn castle, where she once befriended Syrilla Skyborn, daughter of King Nolas and Queen Emilyn Skyborn. However, their friendship waned as Elowyn’s father kept her sheltered and shielded in Eriden.

Unable to bear the revelry and festivities with such a heavy heart, Elowyn sought solace on a secluded balcony, bringing her sister Elyria along .

In hushed tones, they shared whispers from the previous day in the Elberrin Forest, grappling with the events that unfolded in Lochwald. Elowyn tried to support Elyria through her distress, while Elyria comforted her sister when Elowyn revealed their father’s actions. Elyria nearly erupted the sky as she told her, but Elowyn soothed her with reassurance before they parted ways for the Keeper’s Aegis.

Nothing could change what had happened anyway.

As Elowyn watched the fey celebrate in the nearby floating factions, she couldn’t help but envy their carefree existence, untouched by the weight of Caena’s Trial. She longed to trade places with them, to be a mere bystander in the Ceremony, free from its burdens.

Elowyn’s aura remained somber, still lingering from the morning’s melancholy.

Unexpectedly, she felt a familiar finger entwine around her hand, gently whirling her around, meeting Draeden’s golden gaze and his dimpled smile.

“I searched for you yesterday,” he murmured, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. “I missed you.”

His forthright affection tugged at Elowyn’s heartstrings.

“What’s troubling you?” Draeden inquired, sensing her disquiet. “Has something happened?”

Stepping back, he examined her closely, his caring eyes scanning for any hint of distress. It was then that he noticed her hands, reaching for one and cradling it gently, turning her palm to reveal the divine mark etched upon her skin. His aura shifted, a mix of disbelief and concern washing over him as he traced the intricate threads encircling her crescent moon.

“Who?” Draeden whispered, his voice heavy with emotion.

Elowyn attempted to speak the name, but her trembling lips betrayed her, and tears flowed anew down her cheeks. Draeden led her into a recessed corner of the quiet balcony. Tenderly, he enveloped her in his arms, holding her close as he rested his cheek against her head, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles on her back.

“I’m sorry, Elowyn,” he murmured softly, his words a balm to her soul. “It will be all right. Maybe not now, but it will be.”

Elowyn’s tears flowed freely. “My father tethered my soul to Finnor Wynward.”

“The Commander of Eriden?” Draeden’s grip tightened momentarily at the name before easing. “Your soul is still perfect to me.”

Elowyn gazed at Draeden through tear-filled eyes, gratitude overflowing within her. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. She craved the solace and safety he always brought, seeking the warmth of his embrace. Tilting her head, she hovered her lips near his, and he leaned down, closing the gap between them.

Draeden leaned into her caress and his gentle grip fell to her waist. Their lips claimed each other with earnestness. Still engulfed in their fervid kiss, he brought one hand to her neck and cradled the base of it affectionately within his grasp. With that hand, he pulled her closer and deepened their kiss. She ran a burning hand through his claret-red hair and gripped his silken strands within her fist.

At her fevered touch, Draeden only grew more eager as he, too, seized a handful of Elowyn’s snow-white locks. He pressed her body closer to him as if their connected bodies were still too distant. Elowyn was filled with a rapture as her mouth intertwined with Draeden’s. Out of all the dalliances she had before, she hadn’t felt an intoxicating euphoria like this. She wanted him, needed him. She was enraptured with security he offered her—a sanctuary all her own.

He would be the one she'd willingly give her soul to.

Draeden had showered her in a rainfall of kindness and compassion. He cared and tended to her emotions in a way she’d never received before. Stolen moments with him were seraphic; they were wildly enchanting, and she had no plans to abandon them. She could spend eternity in his arms, and it would still never be enough .

Draeden pulled away, his breath ragged, and reality came crashing back.

Elowyn creased her brow and yanked him back to her lips. He breathed a smile on her lips and kissed her tenderly, but firmly pulled away again.

“I need to take a step back.” Draeden’s eyes were dark and his breaths irregular. “Before I take you on this balcony floor.

“I’d like to see you try,” Elowyn murmured.

A low noise escaped Draeden’s throat as his eyes raked over her body. Before Elowyn could tempt him, he tore his eyes away from her.

“I will,” Draeden vowed, his expression softening. “When the time is right.”

Elowyn frowned at his decision. “Promise me then.”

“I can offer more than just a promise,” Draeden grinned devilishly. “I swear an oath to you.”

“I’ve amassed two promises and an oath from you. I plan to collect on all three.”

Draeden chuckled. “Consider one of them already fulfilled.”

He clasped Elowyn’s hand, her laughter music to his ears as he spun her around gently before leading her to a nearby bench. They settled down, and Elowyn nestled into his lap, finding comfort in the crook of his neck. Draeden’s smile radiated warmth as he toyed with a strand of her white hair between his fingers.

“Tomorrow, you’re off to Orwyn. I can’t wait to show you around my home.”

“What’s your favorite part of Orwyn?”

“The city. I adore the folk of Orwyn. They’re the heart of my kingdom.”

“I’ve never been to a city. Not even back in Eriden. My father never allowed it.”

Draeden turned to her, “Never been to any city? Ever?”

“Never. ”

“Well, we’ll change that tomorrow. I’ll show you all my favorite spots in the city. There’s so much to see and do, especially with the Ceremony in full swing.”

Elowyn’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Draeden murmured, planting a gentle kiss on her head. “We’ll have to start at sunrise to make the most of it before the Fifth Day begins. And don’t worry about the wards; I’ll make sure we get through them.”

Elowyn’s expression faltered slightly. “I’ve never been to Orwyn, so I’m not sure if I could summon a moongate there on my own.”

“I think you’d never forgive me if I made another portal joke. Since it’s your first time visiting Orwyn, let’s meet at the Temple, and I’ll guide you from there.”

“I’m excited to see your home,” Elowyn said cheerfully as she sat up, turning to gaze into his golden eyes. “Thank you for wanting to show me.”

“Always, anything for you.”

“Do you have to rehearse being this charming?”

“It comes naturally.”

“Your arrogance is bigger than the moon.”

“What do you say? Have my ruses and wiles successfully courted you?”

“I’d say so.”

Draeden chuckled and gently lifted her chin, tilting her head towards him as he leaned in to kiss her gingerly. He continued to cradle her, showering her with affection. Segments of Elowyn’s sorrows from earlier began to unravel and unwind, waning at the hands of Draeden’s admiration and intimacy. Her heart was beating to the rhythm of Draeden’s, and she couldn’t imagine another feeling more perfect.

“It brings us great pleasure to host the Keeper’s Aegis in Prymont this divine season,” Queen Emilyn Skyborn beamed. Seated upon her castle’s dais, she occupied a heavenly throne hewn from stone. “On this Fourth Day, our candidates will choose a talisman to imbue with divine magic, creating an aegis to safeguard them during their Trial.”

Beside her and King Nolas were the animus of Prymont, two feather-winged phoenixes. Elowyn observed Princess Syrilla standing beside the creatures, her flawless gossamer wings falling down her back.

Queen Emilyn’s voice, sweet as honey, continued, “These aegis will serve as a connection, whether tangible or intangible, anchoring the divine candidates to Neramyr as they traverse the Bridge Between Worlds into Caena’s realm. Whether they require strength, courage, perseverance, bravery, or hope, these aegis will remind them of their existence in Neramyr, reminding there is an end—a conclusion—to the trial.”

Now it was King Nolas Skyborn who spoke from his throne. “The Keeper’s Aegis will now commence as moonrise approaches. Our seven divine candidates have chosen their talismans to tether them to Neramyr. Under the guidance of the High Priestess, they will now initiate the connection of their chosen aegis to Neramyr.”

The High Priestess emerged onto the dais from behind the two radiant thrones. Draped in an opulent robe of ivory silk adorned with threads of silver and pearls, she wore a tall headdress that veiled her face, reminiscent of the one she wore in the Iron Hollows.

“Fey of Neramyr, the time has come to begin the ritual of the Keeper’s Aegis,” she announced. “I shall summon each divine candidate to this dais. They will utter the sacred words before the Goddess as they present their talisman to Caena. The Goddess will imbue these aegis with her divine power, forging the tether that links the talisman to its keeper and to Neramyr.”

Stepping forward, the High Priestess positioned herself before Queen Emilyn and King Nolas at the center of the elevated platform. She then motioned toward her right, where the seven divine candidates awaited, and addressed them directly.

“Princess Elyria Fangwright of House Fangwright, please ascend to the dais and offer your chosen talisman to the Goddess of the Moon. Speak the sacred words to initiate the binding of your aegis to Neramyr.”

Elowyn watched as her older sister ascended the stone staircase and approached the High Priestess.

“Blessed Caena, Goddess of the Moon, Savior of the Fey, Liberator of Neramyr, Mother of Worlds, please accept this aegis I offer unto you.”

Carefully, Elyria lifted both arms to the back of her neck and delicately unfastened the opal teardrop necklace adorning it. Cradling the precious chain in her palm, she extended it to the High Priestess.

“Child of the moon, what have you presented to the Goddess?” the High Priestess inquired.

“I offer the Goddess a treasure invaluable to me. I offer Caena my most cherished possession,” Elyria replied earnestly.

Elowyn’s eyes shimmered with affection at her sister’s choice. She instinctively reached for her own necklace and clasped it tightly in her hand. Her sister’s chosen aegis stirred something within her, filling her with profound pride and unwavering love for Elyria.

The High Priestess inclined her head in acknowledgment to Elyria and gently cupped one of her weathered hands beneath Elyria’s outstretched palm, while resting her other hand atop the aegis, enclosing it between her palms. As the High Priestess commenced a steady incantation, her aged palms began to emit a soft glow, casting ethereal light beneath the alabaster robe draped over her arms, all eight phases of the moon illuminated. A shimmering orb of feylight formed around the High Priestess’ hands, enveloping Elyria’s palm, and the aegis within its luminous embrace. Waves of divine energy pulsed within the feylight orb, saturating the room with otherworldly magic.

With a final surge of divine power, the High Priestess concluded her incantation, and the radiant feylight orb she had summoned began to dissipate into a hazy mist. Removing her hand from atop Elyria’s palm, the High Priestess revealed the opal teardrop necklace, its silver chain bathed in luminescent moonlight. Turning to address the assembled crowd, she declared, “Your divine candidate has completed the ritual of the Keeper’s Aegis! Princess Elyria Fangwright has forged the divine link and tethered her aegis to Neramyr!”

Though the crowd’s applause was somewhat muted, Elowyn cheered enthusiastically for Elyria, her support resounding through the hall. Catching Elyria’s grateful gaze from the crowd, Elowyn offered a nod of encouragement. She watched as Elyria descended from the dais and rejoined the assembly, standing beside Sylas.

The High Priestess then clapped her hands and continued, “Lynora Lionwind of House Blackbane, step forward and ascend the dais. Present your chosen talisman to the Goddess of the Moon and speak the sacred words to initiate the tethering of your aegis to Neramyr.”

Following the same practice, the candidate from House Blackbane approached the dais and stood before the High Priestess.

“Blessed Caena, Goddess of the Moon, Savior of the Fey, Liberator of Neramyr, Mother of Worlds, please accept this aegis I offer unto you.” Lynora held forth a golden ring in the palm of her hand.

Once more, the High Priestess inquired aloud, “Child of the moon, what have you presented to the Goddess?”

“I offer to the Goddess the heirloom of my birth mother, a family ring, to serve as my aegis,” Lynora replied.

The High Priestess repeated this ritual for each of the seven realms in Neramyr. Elowyn pondered how these candidates decided what to offer to the Goddess as their aegis. All these possessions held significance to them, and she imagined it must have been challenging to select just one item to serve as their tether for the next seven years.

The Keeper’s Aegis proceeded as the High Priestess called each divine candidate forward one by one. As the final candidate completed the ritual, Elowyn mentally recounted what each of them had offered to Caena as their aegis.

Her sister, Elyria, had chosen their shared opal necklace. Lynora Lionwind of House Blackbane had selected a family ring. Kerrick Graylon of House Driftmoor had opted for a sensation, the brine-filled scent of the Swyn Sea. Galen Wolfspire of House Darkmaw had offered a memory, the first time he witnessed a golden sunset gracing the badlands of Orwyn. Iva Rosefall of House Skyborn had chosen a silver amulet gifted to her by her father. Lillia Sagebrook of House Mirthwood had decided on a feeling, her devotion to her soul-bonded lover. Lastly, Sylas had chosen a sleek dagger that had been passed down in his family for generations; it had served as an aegis for many Fenharts in past Trials.

The conclusion of the Keeper’s Aegis was met with thunderous applause, and a symphony of harps sounded to mark the ritual’s conclusion and the beginning of the festivities. The hall was illuminated by floating orbs of feylight as courtiers and nobles cheered merrily and boldly, drinking deeply from their crystal goblets. Delicate clouds drifted around the tall ceilings while gossamer-winged performers glided gracefully in elegant arcs, twirling tulle ribbons in mesmerizing patterns like a stunning sunset sky come to life.

Elowyn navigated through the busy crowd until she reached Elyria, gathering her sister in a tight hug.

“I love you,” Elowyn murmured, gesturing towards the teardrop necklace adorning Elyria’s neck and then to her own. “This will be my choice in seven years, too.”

Elyria smiled. “I love you more. Feeling any better?”

“Much better. ”

Before Elowyn could say more, she noticed Sylas and Lyra making their way towards them and offered them a small wave. Lyra floated over and wrapped her arms around Elowyn in a friendly embrace.

“Elowyn, I didn’t see you in Lochwald yesterday!” Lyra exclaimed with a smile, her sea-green eyes sparkling. “I’m so glad I caught you today before you left.”

Elyria glanced at Elowyn curiously but remained silent as she observed Lyra.

“Hi, Lyra,” Elowyn greeted warmly. “You remember my sister, Elyria, right?”

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Princess Elyria,” Lyra said with a curtsy and a smile. “You always carry yourself with such grace during the rituals. I wish Sylas could do the same.”

Sylas colored at his sister’s remark. “Hey! I’m doing just fine, Lyra.”

“I think you’re doing great,” Elyria chimed in, her laughter as sweet as spun sugar. “I should know after all, I’m a candidate, too.”

Sylas’ face flushed even more as he rubbed the back of his neck, extending his hand towards Elyria. “Um, Elyria… Would you care to dance?”

Lyra’s jaw dropped in surprise, her curiosity flaring.

“It would be my pleasure,” Elyria replied with a smile, taking Sylas’ hand as he led her to an open space where other courtiers were dancing.

Lyra turned to Elowyn, her jaw still agape, and grabbed her arm. “By the Goddess, did you see that?”

Elowyn was momentarily taken aback by Lyra’s touch but relaxed, responding with a wry smirk. “Oh, yes. Sylas is clearly smitten with Elyria, and she seems equally enchanted.”

“I’ve never seen Sylas show any interest in a female before,” Lyra remarked, her hands clasped together, eyes alight with realization. “But soon, they’ll be entering the Trial of Caena together. I’ve heard the soul-bonds formed between lovers in the Trials are unparalleled. Just imagine if they were to emerge from the Divine Shallows hand-in-hand?” Lyra sighed wistfully. “How romantic would that be?”

“Well, when it comes to the Trial, ‘romantic’ might not be the word I’d use,” Elowyn replied, amused. “But you do seem to be in better spirits than the last time we spoke.”

“I am!” Lyra beamed. “I’m taking your advice and sharing my happiness with those who nurture it. Yesterday, Prince Caswin looked stunning, but I ended up opting for this charming warlock from Driftmoor. And today, I already have my eye on a few divine warlocks here. That one over there in the ochre surcoat seems particularly intriguing.”

“Oh,” Elowyn began, momentarily caught off guard. “I’m not sure if that’s exactly what I was trying to convey with my advice, but if it’s making you happier, then I’m all for it.”

“I know that look, Elowyn. Don’t worry, a bit of physical touch is just what I need right now,” Lyra teased. “After all, the bodies of the fey were crafted to be impressive and alluring for a reason. I’m just enjoying myself while exploring that reason.”

Lyra winked at Elowyn, her smile dazzling. Elowyn couldn’t help but smile back. Lyra was as gorgeous as she was enchanting. With her long, flowing mahogany locks and her mesmerizing green eyes, she held an irresistible charm. It was no wonder she could captivate anyone she met, leaving a lasting impression.

“If you ever decide you need a friend instead of a dreamy warlock, I’m here,” Elowyn teased. “Though I must admit that warlock in the ochre surcoat is quite striking.”

“Yes, he’s quite something,” Lyra sighed, then shifted her gaze to the left. “I have my eye on that one as well. Oh, Elowyn, help me decide.”

“What’s the determining factor?” Elowyn tilted her head, glancing.

“I’m not for certain… However, there’s only one way to find out,” Lyra whispered to Elowyn, leaning in close. “After I’ve had my fun with both of them, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Lyra’s laughter rang out like a chorus of bells as she squeezed Elowyn’s hand before floating off towards the male who had caught her eye. Elowyn smiled to herself, silently rooting for her new friend. Despite Lyra’s heavy aura, there was a glimmer of light within her, surrounded by darkness. That flicker of healing and hope burned brighter than ever, even more so than in the Iron Hollows. It reassured Elowyn that Lyra would eventually find contentment someday.

Turning her gaze, Elowyn watched her older sister twirl with Sylas on the grand dance floor, a smile gracing her lips. What if Lyra was onto something about them entering the Trial of Caena together? Elyria deserved all the love and happiness in the world. Perhaps Sylas would be her perfect match for a soul-bond. Elowyn couldn’t help but wonder if Elyria would even desire to soul-bond with another fey.

Elowyn was well aware of the rarity of soul-bonds in Neramyr. From a young age, she had been taught that only three types of soul-bonds existed in history: the soul-bond of Eternal Tethering, the bond between a fey and their animus , and the marriage soul-bond. While some believed these bonds were exclusive to the New Age, chroniclers argued that they also existed during the Old Age.

Elowyn knew of the eternal soul-bond that could form between two fey—her tether to Finnor still haunted her now. She was also familiar with the bond to a divine animus , as her father, mother, and uncle had all formed such bonds during their Trial of Caena. Without these bonds, Stryx, Bane, and Nerys would cease to exist in this realm.

The last type of soul-bond that could be formed was between two fey. This bond was born from devotion, passion, and love. It could be initiated by two fey speaking ancient, sacred words together, casting a spell that permanently bound their souls. This bond would endure as long as breaths fell from their lips and their hearts beat with ichor. It was an oath that lasted as long as their souls roamed the feylands, enduring not only in this realm but also in all realms beyond.

The marriage soul-bond among the fey could only be formed once, its binding eternal. However, not all soul-bonds among fey were created equal. Some could be more powerful and ideal than others, depending on the strength of the match. Many fey chose to forego this ritual, choosing to exist without the risk that their bond to another may not be as absolute as they believed—to ignore that maybe there was a soul-bond match out there that suited them or their chosen lover more.

Elowyn frowned as she considered this. With the burden of another tethered soul, would she ever find the perfect marriage soul-bond in her lifetime? Did her divine tethering to Finnor condemn her to a life of imperfect matches?

Since she was a feyling, Elowyn had always held onto the belief that she would find someone who would complement her completely, without reservation. She dreamed of finding her perfect match, a prince who would stand as her equal.

Her worries faded as she spotted Draeden across the hall, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. He held her within his golden gaze and waved, his dimples claiming her heart.

Elowyn moved towards Draeden, eager to bridge the gap, but her path was blocked as someone stepped in between them.

Elowyn came to an abrupt halt as she found herself face-to-face with princess of Prymont, Syrilla Skyborn.

Syrilla and Elowyn shared the same age. As dictated by the mysterious principle of the ‘sacred seven’ royal offspring, the heirs differed in age by no more than seven years.

The Skyborn princess was as beautiful as her mother, the queen of Prymont. Instead of the queen’s honeyed locks, Syrilla’s hair had hues of rose gold, a blend of blush pink, soft coral, and warm gold in her shoulder length strands. Her eyes, a mesmerizing smoky quartz, mirrored the color of slate thunderclouds. Sprouting from her delicate shoulder blades were sheer, gossamer wings. Describing Syrilla’s wings as heavenly felt inadequate; they radiated an ethereal glow, reflecting the feylight in the room with an elegant glimmer.

“Elowyn?” Syrilla’s expression was puzzled. “Moons, it’s been nearly nine years since we last met.”

Elowyn was caught unawares by the sudden encounter with the heir to the Skyborn throne. Memories of her flooded back, and she quickly gathered herself.

“Princess Syrilla,” Elowyn replied awkwardly. “Indeed, it has been quite some time. It's wonderful to see you. You seem well.”

“You can call me Syrilla,” the princess smiled. “We were once good friends, you know.”

Elowyn sensed the sincerity in Syrilla’s words, stirring a wistful emotion within her.

“I remember. I’m glad we’ve crossed paths again,” Elowyn admitted.

The two princesses of Neramyr stood in a moment of awkward silence, uncertain of what to say next. Syrilla absentmindedly twirled her thumbs in circles before breaking the silence.

“Would it be all right to ask why you stopped visiting me in Prymont?” Syrilla inquired candidly. “I sent letters. I even attempted to visit you in Eriden once, but my invitation to Fangwright castle was declined. I was informed that you no longer wished to see me.”

Elowyn’s expression shifted to one of confusion as she absorbed Syrilla’s words. Elowyn couldn’t recall precisely when their communication ceased, but she had always believed it was Syrilla who withdrew from their bond first.

“That’s odd. I was told as a child that you declined my attempts to visit to Prymont.”

A flash of frustration struck through Elowyn’s emotions as guilt also riddled her conscience. She knew that it was her father who kept Syrilla’s letters hidden, and it was he who spun the tale claiming that Syrilla refused her company each time Elowyn requested to visit Prymont.

Her father had always restricted her interactions with other feylands, even within her own kingdom. Yet, Elowyn failed to see the harm in maintaining her friendship with Syrilla. Her father wielded control over every aspect of her life. He would rather her suffer in loneliness than be influenced by entities out of his control—the only exception being her older sister. Perhaps their father feared that restricting Elowyn’s presence in Elyria’s life would prompt Elyria to sell her soul to the reaper of death to ensure he suffered eternally in this realm and all the realms beyond.

A sense of dread and unease settled deep within her as she came to a grim realization. Her father had succeeded in isolating her completely. The wreaths now branded on her hand were symbols of her lost freedom. In just three days, Elyria would embark on her seven-year journey, leaving Elowyn truly alone. Once the Ceremony of Caena concluded, she would have no legitimate reason to freely visit Draeden, Lyra, or Syrilla ever again. Despite her efforts to assert her independence, it seemed that her life would inevitably conform to her father’s desires.

In that moment, Elowyn felt a surge of hopelessness engulfing her, a feeling that seemed impossible to overcome.