Chapter 26Remembrance
26
Remembrance
Elowyn found the atmosphere at the Driftmoor castle’s post-ritual celebration to be lacking in genuine celebration. Despite the exchange of pleasantries and banter among the fey, the oddity of Elyria’s performance in comparison to her unblessed status couldn’t be ignored. Dismissive compliments were mingled with thinly veiled criticism as Elowyn navigated through the crowd, her golden aureum trailing lightly behind her. Though she attempted to block out the snide remarks, a few still pierced through the noise.
As she passed by a raven-haired fey from Erimead, likely of noble lineage, Elowyn couldn’t help but overhear her disparaging tone as she conversed eagerly with a sorceress from Lochwald. Fragments of their conversation still reached her ears.
“What an impressive display of magical prowess from the unblessed Fangwright!”
“Especially for someone deemed unworthy by the Goddess! It’s a shame she wasn’t blessed as a child. Even if she returns from the Bridge Between Worlds, she’ll never attain the first Mark.”
“Exactly! She might receive the final Mark after the Trial, but she’ll always be lacking the crescent markings on her palms, forever limited in her divine potential. How unfortunate!”
A flicker of irritation crossed Elowyn’s features as she seized a glass of honeyed vinum from a passing servant more forcefully than intended, taking a sip from the crystal goblet. With a composed exhale, she turned gracefully towards the two women.
“Good evening. I couldn’t help but catch snippets of your riveting conversation,” Elowyn remarked, raising her glass in a subtle gesture. “I’m curious to learn your names.”
The sudden interruption from Elowyn caused the two fey to pale and shrink under her scrutiny. Their gazes flitted nervously from Elowyn’s golden aureum , to her ivory locks, finally settling on her fanged smile. Recognizing her identity, they exchanged a flustered glance before both offering innocent smiles and performing quick curtsies.
The Lochwald sorceress swallowed audibly before speaking, “Princess Elowyn Fangwright, it is truly an honor! I am Brynna Crowe of House Blackbane. And this is Olessa Pend of House Mirthwood.”
Elowyn maintained her passive smile, inwardly knowing she would forget their names as soon as the encounter ended but seeing no need to reveal that. She took a moment to articulate their names slowly, as though committing them to memory. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Brynna Crowe of House Blackbane and Olessa Pend of House Mirthwood. I’ll be sure to relay your flattering comments about our kingdom to my father, King Eamon. He would be delighted to know the names of those who hold his realm in such high regard.”
The two females appeared as if all blood had drained from their faces.
Finishing her drink, Elowyn clapped her hands together with mock enthusiasm. “How fortunate! Just before our encounter, I was searching for my father’s whereabouts. Now I can inform him of our exchange.” She pretended to scan the crowd. “Oh moons, I must take my leave before I forget your names to share with him.” With an elegant curtsy befitting a princess, she flashed another charming smile before gracefully departing.
Upon turning away, Elowyn couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she exchanged her empty glass of vinum for a full one from a nearby tray.
Since the conclusion of the Vitus , her mood had soured, a blend of various factors contributing to it. Foremost among them was the looming final day of the Ceremony, with Elyria set to embark on her Trial across the Bridge Between Worlds, leaving Elowyn to face Neramyr alone. The thought of Elyria’s departure stung, though Elowyn quickly dismissed it. After all, it wasn’t Elyria leaving her; if anything, the blame lay at the feet of the Moon Goddess for these fated turn of events.
Elyria and their father were nowhere in sight. Elowyn would have willingly offered her soul to the eight moons if it ensured her sister was met with civility in the face of the seven realms. As she drained the contents of her current glass of vinum , she reached for another.
At the crux of it all was her father’s inability to treat Elyria with anything but contempt. A child born of his own flesh and blood meant nothing to him; only power and status held significance in his eyes.
Elowyn supposed she held little power and had inherited a false status, making her equally insignificant in his eyes.
Elowyn’s troubled mood knew no bounds. She had inquired about Elyria’s plans for the Vitus , only to be met with secrecy. Yet what transpired in the ritual today was certainly not what her sister had suggested. It shocked Elowyn to learn that Elyria had taught herself to summon and wield moonfire on her own—it was yet another skill Elyria possessed that Elowyn lacked.
The countless glasses of vinum failed to distract Elowyn from her incessant comparisons with her older sister’s abilities.
Where could Elyria be? And Draeden? Even Lyra seemed absent. Elowyn gripped the teardrop necklace hanging at her neckline. The gem emitted a soft hum, though too faint to discern whether her sister was nearby. With a resigned sigh, Elowyn helped herself to another glass and resumed her quest for a familiar presence.
“Fey of Neramyr,” Queen Aletta Driftmoor announced, her cutlery gently tapping against a crystal goblet for attention. “What a remarkable conclusion to the Sixth Day of the Ceremony! Our divine candidates have successfully completed the Vitus under the watchful gaze of our beloved Goddess. May the blessings of the many moons shower upon them tonight!”
With her lapis hair pinned back, Queen Aletta’s complexion, richly tanned by the sun, nearly copper, offered a striking contrast to the moonlit hues adorning her skin. The final Mark, unique to those pledged to House Driftmoor, depicted drifting waves and coastal mist.
“Tonight, we have yet another reason to rejoice!” The queen’s smile radiated warmth. “My sister, Princess Cleora, has accepted a long-awaited betrothal to Prince Edwyn Fangwright.” She lifted her glass in a toast toward Cleora and Edwyn, positioned to her left on their thrones. “It has been many reigns since such a harmonious union between two royal houses has been witnessed! Prince Edwyn has captured the heart of my sister, and it fills me with joy to witness such profound devotion. It is a love that even Queen Diantha herself would bless with great enthusiasm. Under the light of the next full moon, the royal couple intends to exchange the soul-bond, uniting them not only in this realm, but all realms beyond. Please join us in celebrating their betrothal and extend your heartfelt wishes for their happiness!”
Perched atop the courtyard’s highest balustrade, Elyria observed Queen Aletta’s announcement from the shadows. Leaning against the stone column railing, she surveyed the bustling crowd below, preferring the cloak of the night sky. Hidden from view, she felt a sense of solace, away from the festivities that she dared not partake in. The mere thought of joining them was overwhelming, and encountering Sylas would only stoke her anger further. Elyria had noticed Elowyn’s search for her since the celebration began, but she deliberately suppressed the magical connection between their necklaces, knowing her younger sister would only attempt to console her about the Vitus .
Concern pricked at her as she observed Elowyn indulging in her sixth glass of fey wine. Elyria pondered whether her overprotectiveness over the years had done more harm than good. The notion stung, but she recognized that Elowyn needed to learn to stand on her own once she was gone.
Pushing aside the guilt, Elyria redirected her focus to the gathering below. Her gaze fixed on her mother, Queen Eddra, who clapped politely alongside the other fey, wearing a pleasant smile. Yet, despite her outward disposition, Elyria sensed the underlying fury in her mother’s aura. She had learned to decipher her mother’s concealed emotions over the years. Whenever Queen Eddra appeared too perfect, too content, it signaled that she was hiding something. The Clever Queen harbored numerous secrets, and despite Elyria’s efforts, she had only uncovered a fraction of them in her twenty-six years.
Initially, Elyria found hiding to be frightening—detesting being alone and cloaked by darkness—but gradually, she grew to appreciate the hidden nooks and corners of the castle and the safety they provided.
She quickly discerned that fey behaved differently when they believed they weren’t being observed. And similarly, their behavior shifted when they were aware of being watched.
Her discoveries held their weight in gold, hence Elyria’s choice to remain concealed in the darkness, surveying the mingling crowd below.
In the calm expanse of the Eriden mountains, the pre-dawn sky hung heavy with darkness, the first light of morning still hours away. No more than thirty minutes after their return from the Elune Isles, Queen Eddra received a sealed missive, delivered by hand from a Neramyran informant. The message contained the same cryptic contents as the six missives before it, all arriving on consecutive days since the start of the Ceremony.
Queen Eddra recognized it was no mere coincidence that these messages began on the first day of the Ceremony. In Neramyr, coincidences were regarded with skepticism—often, they were calculated rather than merely coincidental.
Atop one of the mountain peaks, Eddra tenderly ran her fingers over the smooth, ivory scales decorating Stryx’s hide. Her gaze drifted to the starlit sky as she murmured, “She remembers, Edwyn.”
Edwyn stood nearby, his sapphire firedrake poised behind him, his expression inscrutable. “I know,” he replied with a grave look. “They both remember.”
Meeting his gaze with a composed expression, Eddra nodded in understanding. Turning her attention skyward, she crumpled the scroll tightly in her fist. At once, the parchment ignited into flame and disintegrated into ash, leaving only a faint trail of smoke in its wake.
With a formidable stride, Eddra mounted Stryx in a single fluid motion. United with his rider, the chalk-firedrake emitted a piercing cry before launching himself into the sky, his powerful wings propelling him upward. Stryx disappeared into the darkness, vanishing among the shroud of gray clouds.
Meanwhile, the prince exhaled deeply as he surveyed the darkness, his gaze shifting to his animus . With a gentle touch, he patted the blue dragon’s hide, a silent communication passing between them. Afterward, Edwyn mounted Nerys effortlessly, and the dragon charged toward the edge of the summit. With a powerful leap, Nerys soared into the air, her membranous wings beating against the night .
With cryptic eyes, the Clever Queen and the Fanged Prince embarked on their journey through the obsidian skies, hastening toward the Elberrin Forest.