Chapter 20The Willow Spirit
20
The Willow Spirit
Draeden guided her up the stairway, gently pulling open one of the heavy wooden doors. As they stepped inside, the enchanting atmosphere of the music hall enveloped Elowyn in a whirlwind of emotions. Waves of happiness, joy, and celebration flowed from the room, lifting her spirits. A radiant smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkling like stars against the night sky.
They made their way towards the small stage at the back of the hall, where a claret-haired lutist was strumming the final notes of a captivating melody. Elowyn and Draeden watched in rapt attention as the lutist concluded his performance with a flourish, eliciting cheers and applause from the crowd. Elowyn even found herself clapping enthusiastically at the music.
After the performance, the lutist bowed graciously to the audience and collected offerings from a chest at the edge of the stage. Draeden led them to a cozy table in the corner, assisting Elowyn to her seat before excusing himself to visit the bar .
As she waited for Draeden to return, Elowyn surveyed the crowded room, making sure to keep her hood secure. She observed the patrons chatting and laughing spiritedly, fascinated by their lively energy. Most had claret-red hair, indicating they were locals of Orwyn. Elowyn overheard lively debates about musical instruments and discussions about the evening’s performances, immersing herself in the vibrant atmosphere of the music house.
At a nearby table, a male in a tawny cloak spoke hurriedly to his companions, “I heard Aunora is playing next.” His companion turned to him, eyes widening slightly. “Aunora? I thought she was still touring with her troupe across Neramyr.” The first male shook his head. “She returned for the Fifth Day. Queen Nikoletta requested her performance during the Ceremony of Caena.” The second male exhaled sharply. “She’s quite something, isn’t she? To be both a divine-blessed sorceress and one of the most talented instrumentalists in Neramyr.” The first male clicked his tongue. “The Goddess certainly favored her.” The second male shook his head and took a sip from his mug. “That she did.”
Draeden returned with two mugs and interrupted her eavesdropping. He handed one to her with a dimpled grin. “Gooseberry ale. You’ll love it.”
“Seems a bit early for a drink, doesn’t it?” Elowyn raised an eyebrow, inspecting the amber liquid with foamy bubbles atop. “I’ve only ever had vinum before.”
“It’s the Fifth Day!” Draeden retorted cheerfully. “And you’re here with me in Orwyn. Plenty of reasons to celebrate.” He clinked his mug against hers and took a hearty swig.
“Fair point,” Elowyn chuckled, reciprocating the gesture before taking a cautious sip. She raised her eyebrows in pleasant surprise as the cool liquid traveled down her throat, warming her stomach. With a sweet, fruity aroma and full-bodied flavor, the ale was a novelty from the vinum she was accustomed to. Setting down her mug, she nodded approvingly. “Definitely not the same as vinum , but I think I like it.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Draeden chuckled, taking another sip from his mug. “The barkeep mentioned the next performance to me. Apparently, one of Orwyn’s finest soloists has returned from their travels.” His excitement bubbled over as he continued, “You’re in for a treat. I still remember the first time I saw this performer... I was just a feyling, but it’s one of my most treasured memories to this day.”
“I believe you,” Elowyn replied sincerely. “I overheard the table behind us discussing it too. Aunora, right?”
“Yes, her name is Aunora. She’s not much older than us, maybe fifty years or so. She’s gained quite a reputation in Orwyn. After she received her final Mark, she set out to travel with a troupe of musicians, performing all across Neramyr. And from what I’ve heard, she always performs as a soloist. Quite impressive, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. And she’s a divine sorceress as well? Do you know when she completed her Trial of Caena?” Elowyn’s admiration for the esteemed performer only grew as she learned more about her. She couldn’t help but wonder if Aunora’s troupe ever sought to perform in Eriden, though she doubted her father would have entertained such a request.
“She completed her Trial three seasons ago,” Draeden confirmed. “Word spread like wildfire when she announced she’d be traveling with a troupe of performers across Neramyr. Usually, divine-blessed fey assume positions that employ their newfound magic or serve the realm in some way. But not Aunora; she chose music. By virtue of her Mark, she’s still sworn to protect the realm’s folk, but we’re living in a time of peace now. There are other divine fey tasked with keeping danger at bay. I find her inspiring.”
“I agree,” Elowyn murmured, considering the extraordinary choice Aunora had made. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have the freedom to choose her own path. If not for her title, would she have pursued a simpler life, perhaps as a florist like those she saw in the market? Would she have engrossed herself in scholarly pursuits in the library? Could she have even become a musician herself? “I think what she did was brave.”
“Brave. I like the sound of that,” Draeden said, reaching for Elowyn’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “I’m grateful you’re here, Elowyn. Being with you brings me more happiness than you realize.”
Elowyn felt her cheeks warm at his sincerity. “You make me happy, too,” she replied earnestly. Draeden had a way of making her feel complete, filling her with warmth and calmness with just a glance or a touch.
As the room fell silent, Elowyn noticed two large attendants from the music hall stepping onto the stage. They carefully brought forth a stunning instrument, one of the most beautiful harps Elowyn had ever seen. They positioned it on the stage, placing a cushioned stool beside it before stepping back and leaving the platform.
Elowyn’s gaze traced the contours of the harp’s neck, its wood coated in gold lacquer, appearing sleek and distinguished. Ivory-painted swirls embellished its surface, depicting images of the moon and stars against a backdrop of a golden night sky. The strings, like strands of opulent silk, lay within its body, promising rich and luxurious sounds.
The room fell into near silence, anticipation palpable in the air, as patrons awaited the next performance. Then, with a suddenness that caught Elowyn’s breath, a slender sorceress emerged from behind the stage curtains. Her golden eyes met Elowyn’s, and she felt a surge of awe at the sorceress’s powerful yet graceful presence.
The Darkmaw sorceress possessed a heart-shaped face and deep claret-red locks, half of which were pinned up with golden hairpins, falling down her back. Draped in layers of flowing chiffon, she moved with a confidence and poise that captivated the room. Her bare arms and exposed skin revealed the intricate ivory markings of her divine Mark .
With ease, she settled onto the cushioned stool, the chiffon of her skirts spread around her like petals falling from a flower. In position, she prepared to weave her magic through the strings of the golden harp.
Whispers of awe and reverence filled the room as Aunora took the stage. Elowyn could hardly believe her luck at witnessing such a renowned performer. Every eye in the music house was fixed on Aunora while she gracefully lifted her arms, poised above the harp’s strings. The room fell into hushed silence. Aunora released a breath and plucked the first flawless chord.
The harp’s ethereal notes floated through the air, captivating Elowyn like a feathered seed of a dandelion caught in a gentle breeze. Each note Aunora strummed released an ethereal, airy tune that stole the breath from Elowyn’s lungs. Aunora’s fingers danced masterfully along the plane of strings, plucking and pulling in powerful controlled movements. She closed her eyes blissfully as her fingers danced along the threads with perfect precision, letting her artistry command the cords for her.
Aunora began to play a ballad for the room.
As she played, a story unfolded in Elowyn’s ears, painted vividly by the haunting melody—it began as a seraphic song of a mother and child.
The harp’s melody transported listeners to a morning many moons ago, when spring flourished, and a weeping willow swayed gracefully in the gentle sunlight. Beneath its verdant canopy, a mother sat, cradling her swollen belly with tender hands. A cry escaped the mother’s lips, groaning as she welcomed her newborn daughter into the world under a full moon.
The mother was alone—still many miles away from home—only venturing forth to harvest the juniper berries that were bountiful this time of year. Her child was not yet due for weeks, but nonetheless, she thanked the Goddess her child came safely. Soon, exhaustion crept upon the mother, her eyelids weighing down like anchoring stones. “ Just a short rest,” the mother whispered to her daughter, pressing a kiss to her brow before falling into an inescapable slumber.
The harp continued to unfold the story in an illustrative aria; vivid notes began to thrum in powerful patterns, leaving Elowyn transfixed as each emotive clef drifted from Aunora’s fingers.
Upon awakening, the mother found herself under a sky devoid of stars. She blinked, clearing the remnants of sleep from her eyes, her thoughts immediately turning to the bundle cradled in her arms. A radiant smile graced her lips as she uncovered the cloth to caress her newborn’s face, her tender fingertips brushing gently across the soft skin. Yet, when she cupped the infant’s face, a scream tore from her throat, disbelief and denial washing over her. The infant was cold to her touch, its chill piercing her like a steel blade. The mother’s wails filled the air as she desperately called out to her newborn, but only deafening silence answered her plea.
Clutching the bundle tightly to her chest, the mother bellowed to the heavens, her sobs filled with grief.
She pleaded with the spirits of the feylands to spare her child, kneeling as she prayed to the stars for aid, yet the vacant sky offered no response. Begging the wind to breathe life into her newborn’s lungs, she watched in despair as it waned and dwindled away. Turning to the soil, the mother implored the fertile feylands to lend vitality to her child’s soul, only to be met with indifference. Forlorn, she sought strength from the rippling river, but it also paid her no heed.
She wept in anguish as each spirit disregarded her pleas and prayers. A final skyward cry for her lost child erupted from her throat, laden with desperation. At this, a spirit awakened from an endless slumber—the mighty willow beneath which she sat began to rouse.
The willow spirit considered the mother’s plea, but only once first light dawned the horizon, did it break its silence. Gazing upon the mother, still as stone with vacant eyes, the willow called back the wind to whisper the terms of a bargain to her .
The wind enveloped the mother, bearing the words of the mighty willow’s bargain. Upon hearing the words, the mother’s eyes widened, and with unwavering courage, she agreed to the tree spirit’s terms. Accepting her answer, the mighty willow’s branches lowered, tenderly cradling the silent bundle within its embrace. The mother knelt before the towering trunk of the willow, bowing deeply until her nose almost grazed the blades of grass below.
Observing the lifeless infant, the mighty willow sensed the absence of its soul in this realm. Harnessing the blazing energy of the rising sun, the willow illuminated the feylands in search of the child’s wandering soul. Directing the wind’s whispers, it instructed all it encountered to seek answers to a lost aura, adrift and unanchored. Commanding the river’s currents, it tasked the waters to scour the seas and guide the child’s soul back into this realm.
As hours stretched on, the mother's hope began to wane. “Patience,” the willow reminded her, steadfast in its search for the lost soul of her child. With the sun sinking low on the horizon, despair gripped the mother once more, tears streaming down her cheeks. Moved by her sorrow, the willow warbled a lulling lullaby, soothing her troubled heart. Lost, the mother surrendered to the willow’s gentle melody, finding comfort as her tears dried and a sense of ease washed over her.
She then gazed up at the midnight sky and drew in a sharp breath, beholding a scene of countless flickering stars. At the willow’s bidding, the wind carried another message to her, and with joyous cries, she embraced the news.
The mighty willow revealed that her child's soul had returned to this realm, though it would take until morning to reunite with her newborn. Overflowing with gratitude, the mother thanked the willow profusely. The willow reminded the mother of their bargain and she nodded simply. Acknowledging her acceptance once more, the willow summoned an ancient, potent magic from its roots. As the land’s vitality surged around her, the mother felt an arcane form of magic enveloping her, overwhelming her senses. Growing faint, the world dimmed around her, and she slipped into darkness.
The golden harp’s strings continued to sing the bewitching ballad of the mother, child, and willow. Elowyn found herself forgetting to breathe, consumed by the heart-wrenching tale.
As morning broke, the mother stirred and opened her eyes, greeted by a sense of joy as the sun’s warmth kissed her cheeks. Before her lay an unexpected sight: a cluster of ivory wildflowers cradling a bundle of cloth. With widening eyes, she beheld her daughter nestled within. Listening to the gentle rhythm of her child’s breaths and the soft murmurs of her awakening, the mother marveled at the beauty of the moment. Attempting to reach for her child, she found herself immobilized, frustration bubbling within her.
Sensing her distress, the willow extended a comforting touch and spoke softly to her, reminding her of their bargain. Remembering their terms, the mother stilled, deliberating a question. “Will she remember me?” she asked the willow, who offered a sympathetic nod in response. “She will.” Then came another question from the spirit, “Do you regret your decision?” The mother’s answer was swift. “Never,” she declared. “In this lifetime and all the lifetimes beyond, I would choose the same fate.”
Aunora’s fingers danced over the harp strings with fervent strokes, building towards an overwhelming crescendo that shattered Elowyn's composure, stirring something deep within her until the harp's melody softened into a soothing rhythm.
Many moons had come and gone since the mother struck her bargain with the mighty willow. Each day, she awoke by the willow’s side, rooted to the spot where she had made her solemn vow years before. Seasons cycled like clockwork—wildflowers bloomed in patches, rain nourished the rivers, the sun bathed the land, and snow blanketed the feylands.
One spring morning, the mother rose by the willow’s side, expecting the day to unfold like the countless ones before it. Yet, as she watched a passing fey gather juniper berries nearby, a glimmer flickered in her gaze.
The fey hummed a merry tune as she gathered the deep, black-purple berries into her basket. The mother watched in fascination, captivated by the graceful sway of the fey’s movements. Memories stirred within her, reminding her of a time when she too moved with such ease—a time now long past. With her basket brimming with juniper berries, the fey let out a satisfied sigh, indulging in the sweetness of one berry before looking to the sun and settling in the shade of the willow.
The fey ran her fingers along the ivory wildflowers that grew around her as she plucked a stem to inhale its fragrance. She twirled the petals between her fingers before releasing them to the ground. Leaning against the trunk, the fey closed her eyes, feeling a mystical connection with the willow as she traced her hand along its smooth bark. A sense of lost familiarity washed over her, a smile gracing her lips as she surrendered to the comforting touch.
After a few moments of silence, the willow addressed the fey, though the willow knew her words would remain unheard. “Daughter, you’ve come back to me at last.”
Aunora concluded her performance with a final, magnificent note, prompting tears to well up in Elowyn’s eyes. Applause filled the music hall, and she turned to see Draeden’s eyes shine with silver, mirroring her own emotions. Aunora gracefully rose from her seat, acknowledging the crowd with a smile and a bow before retreating from the stage.
“That was breathtaking,” Elowyn confessed to Draeden, her voice filled with awe. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything more beautiful.”
“I’m glad.” Draeden smiled at her. “Now, this definitely takes the cake for one of my most treasured memories.”
“I had no idea music could sound like that,” Elowyn murmured .
“One day, I’ll play something for you,” Draeden promised. “Perhaps a piece on the piano, just for you.”
“You’d really serenade me with the piano? Who knew you were such a romantic.”
“How could you doubt it?” Draeden teased. “Haven’t my heartfelt gestures proven enough? The more I offer, the more I find myself indebted to you.”
“I suppose you’re right. I stand corrected,” Elowyn chuckled softly, shaking her head. “But rest assured, I intend to collect on those debts soon.”
“I eagerly await it,” Draeden affirmed. “But for now, we have other matters to attend to. I have another surprise in store for you.”
“Today seems to be full of surprises,” Elowyn remarked, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she reached for his hand.
Draeden left a coin on the table before guiding them toward the exit of the music house. As they stepped out onto the charming cobblestone street of the Art District, they were greeted by the soft sun, indicating that the Ceremony was only a few hours away.
“Draeden?” A lilting voice floated from behind them.
Elowyn and Draeden spun around to find Aunora descending the limestone stairs, her elegant attire now replaced by a thick, brown hooded cloak.
Draeden’s face lit up upon seeing the soloist. “Aunora!”
Aunora returned his smile, stepping down the stairs to embrace him warmly. “I thought it might be you in the crowd. By the Goddess, when did you become taller than me?”
“Likely because it’s been years since you last saw me,” Draeden chuckled. “I assume you’re in town because of my mother’s request?”
“Yes, that’s true,” Aunora answered. “Though, I’ve also been away from Orwyn for far too long. It was time to return home.”
“How long will you be staying this time?”
“A few weeks... Maybe a month at most. I can’t linger too long. My troupe will need me back on the road eventually. We’ll be performing a few shows here in Orwyn, but we have plans to travel to the Elune Isles next.”
“Ah, don’t forget about us here while you’re basking in the sun and swimming in the tides of the Swyn Sea,” Draeden teased.
“Now that’s an enticing thought...” Aunora laughed, then turned to Elowyn as if noticing her for the first time. “And who might your companion be?”
“Erm, please keep this between us, Aunora,” Draeden interjected, placing a reassuring hand on Elowyn’s back. “This is Princess Elowyn Fangwright.”
Aunora’s expression turned flustered, but she swiftly composed herself, offering a deferential nod towards Elowyn. With a quick motion, she pulled down her brown hood, revealing her face framed by deep, claret-red locks, and dipped into curtsy. “I apologize for my informality, Princess Elowyn.”
“No need for apologies or formalities,” Elowyn reassured her. “If anything, I should be commending you for your performance at the music house. Hearing you play was a wonder to experience.”
“Thank you! All I’ve ever wanted to do is make others fall in love with music the way I have.” Aunora’s smiled. “Come to think of it, you may be among the first royalty from Eriden to hear me play.”
“Really?” Aunora’s words confirmed Elowyn’s suspicion that the soloist’s troupe had never been granted entry into Eriden’s borders. “In that case, I feel even more honored to have experienced your music.”
“I’m delighted to hear that!” Aunora beamed at Elowyn. “Well, I must take my leave to the royal castle and settle in before the start of the Fifth Day.” She turned to Elowyn, embracing her warmly. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. Hopefully, we’ll have the chance to meet again later tonight!” With a final hug for Draeden, she whispered something in his ear, to which he chuckled, before she departed in a different direction.
Draeden waved after Aunora, his laughter echoing through the air.
Elowyn arched an eyebrow. “Secrets aren’t any fun.”
“What she whispered isn’t exactly a secret,” he grinned. “Aunora warned me to not to act like a fool and mess this up.”
“Oh,” Elowyn murmured, her cheeks flushing. “I think you should definitely follow her advice—I quite like her perspective.”
“I was already planning on it,” he grinned.
They strolled across the cobblestone street and soon found themselves back in the bustling square they had visited nearly an hour ago. Elowyn’s eyes widened in wonder as she beheld the transformation that had taken place. The cobblestones now gleamed with a midnight black hue, illuminated by twinkling feylights that danced beneath the feet of passersby like stars in the night sky.
Looking up, Elowyn marveled at the sight of glowing moons and stars hovering above the market square, conjured by the magic of the fey of Orwyn. Each ethereal projection depicted a different phase of the moon or a radiant star, casting a spellbinding aura over the square. Elowyn gazed skyward, her heart swelling with delight at the display.
Since the dawn of the New Age, during the Fifth Day, the folk of Neramyr take part in the Offering. This ritual is one of the most favored days of the week-long affair, namely because it celebrates the magic that runs freely in the veins of fey. What sets this ritual apart is that any fey who can wield magic is welcome to participate, regardless of their social standing.
On this day, the fey offer a portion of their own magic to the heavens to honor Caena.
Each magical offering manifests as a celestial formation, appearing as a phase of the moon or a star. The appearance of these projections varies based on the strength of the magic wielder. Those with stronger abilities conjure phases of the moon, while those with lesser magical abilities contribute smaller stars. These ethereal manifestations linger in the sky leading up to the ritual. When the High Priestess utters the sacred words of the Offering, the fey of Neramyr relinquish their hold on the magic, allowing it to ascend to Caena’s realm.
Legend said that this ritual recurs every seven years to replenish the magic within the feylands. Some believe that the magic offered transforms into the very stars seen in the night sky, others say the magic nurtures the land. Some claim that the Goddess herself accepts the magic to preserve the divine link to the Bridge Between Worlds—the path between Neramyr and her divine realm.
The sight before her stirred a wave of nostalgia within Elowyn; she reminisced about watching the Fifth Day festivities from her bedchamber window as a young feyling. In the last Ceremony, at the age of twelve, she had summoned a crescent moon in her palm to offer to the Goddess. She could still vividly recall the joyous squeals she shared with Ora in that moment. Later, she discovered that Elyria had conjured one of the most radiant full moons witnessed in centuries, earning praise even from the High Priestess herself.
Elowyn found the collective release of magic by the city folk of Eriden to be nothing short of magical, like witnessing millions of shooting stars ascend into the night sky.
“I’ll never tire of the Fifth Day,” Elowyn remarked.
“Neither will I,” Draeden agreed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Together, they strolled across the cobblestone streets painted with fey-created constellations, leaving a trail of twinkling stars in their wake. Amidst the busy marketplace, they maneuvered through the stalls until they reached the serene alleyway where their journey had begun. Draeden summoned a moongate portal with a flourish and extended his hand to Elowyn once more.
“I know I promised to show you more of the city, but I couldn’t let you leave Orwyn without experiencing this as well,” Draeden said, his smile bright.
Elowyn returned his smile as she took his hand, ready to follow him wherever their adventure led, disappearing behind the veil of feylight.