Chapter 25
Glimmer Before the Dark
Lumora transformed as the festival drew near.
Streets were dressed in ribbons of gold, and lanterns etched with illuminating runes hung from every post, casting the town in a warm, radiant glow even after night fell.
By the time the first night of the festival arrived, Lumora was alive with light and music.
As Sorcha stood before her mirror, adjusting her gown, she took a moment to truly see herself.
The emerald-green fabric clung to her frame, highlighting her toned figure in a way she hadn’t seen in a while.
The gown’s hollowed out sides exposed just enough to hint at the swirling runes tattoos that danced faintly beneath her skin, their soft glow barely visible through the intricate embroidery of flowers and vines.
It was both simple and extraordinary. Her auburn hair was loosely braided and
tousled to fall over her shoulders. The firelight kissed her hair, making it shimmer like a crown of autumn leaves.
She reached up to fasten a small gold clasp at her neck, shaped like a crescent moon. A gift from Riona after their trip to the coast—when a sudden knock broke her thoughts. Opening the door, Riona, Eirin, and Emry greeted Sorcha.
For a moment, they all froze, taking in her appearance. “By Lugh’s light,” Riona said first, a sly grin spreading across her face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been holding out on us, Sorcha. You look radiant.”
Eirin’s gaze lingered a moment too long before he cleared his throat. “Riona’s right. You’ll have everyone at the festival tripping over themselves.”
Emry stood silently at first, his blue eyes softening as he observed her. Then, with his characteristic warmth, he added, “It’s perfect. You look like you stepped out of one of the stories we used to read about.”
Sorcha flushed, though she quickly masked it with a laugh. “Oh, please. You three look incredible. You’re going to outshine me entirely.”
Riona stepped forward, giving Sorcha’s gown a quick adjustment. “Not a chance. But I’ll admit, this suits you.”
“It does,” Eirin said quietly, his voice carrying an unusual gentleness.
Eirin was dressed in a honey-brown tunic, fitted to his body perfectly.
Decorated with gold embroidery along the edges, with leaves and blossoms adorning it.
A new pair of dark-brown leather pants to top off his ensemble.
Handsome and practical, what you’d expect from the weapons expert.
Then Sorcha’s gaze shifted to Emry and Riona.
Standing side by side, the connection between them was impossible to miss, even in the details of their clothing.
Riona’s silver gown shimmered with frost-like designs and deep blue embroidery.
While Emry’s navy-blue tunic bore silver embroidery in swirling, constellation like patterns.
The contrast of their outfits complemented each other perfectly, like two halves of the same design.
Sorcha’s lips curved into a faint smile.
They didn’t even have to say it; the bond between them was as obvious as the stars in the night sky.
“Speaking of perfection, Riona,” Emry murmured, his gaze drifting to her with unguarded admiration, “you’re breathtaking.”
She rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a smile. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Emry.”
“It’s not flattery,” he said, his voice earnest. “It’s the truth.”
Sorcha looked between them both, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. “I don’t know what’s sweeter, the compliment or Riona pretending she doesn’t love it.”
Riona huffed but couldn’t help the faint blush that crept into her cheeks. “Let’s go before this turns into a group confession,” she said, grabbing Sorcha’s hand.
With Eirin offering his arm to Sorcha and Emry walking closely beside Riona, the group stepped into the glowing streets of Lumora.
The festival was alive with music, laughter, and conversation, blending into a harmonious buzz that filled the air.
Lanterns cast golden hues over the streets, their runes humming faintly, while silk ribbons streamed from posts, creating a dreamlike atmosphere.
As they approached the center of the festival, they spotted other Circle members mingling among the crowd, dressed in their best and showcasing the unique styles of their regions.
Drystan wore a vibrant green and gold tunic, his hair half up as he soaked in the attention he always seemed to draw.
Rhosyn’s burnt-orange dress shimmered faintly, embroidered with deep green leaves and adorned with beaded flowers.
Mason was dressed in a dark-green tunic with swirls of silver, silver jewelry adorning his neck and arms, black slacks and his hair tousled over his amber eyes. They all looked exquisite.
Sorcha waved to the group, and they greeted each other with warm smiles and easy banter. As Sorcha approached, Drystan plucked a flower from a passing cart, placing it behind his ear. “I’m festival ready. Now who’s going to confess their undying love for me first?”
Rhosyn glared at Drystan. “Put that back,” she replied flatly.
“You know jealousy doesn’t suit you,” he said, grinning.
She turned looking into the crowd when she caught a familiar figure moving toward them with unhurried confidence.
His striking appearance was impossible to ignore.
Dressed in black with subtle gold accents, his attire hinted at something otherworldly.
He moved with effortless grace, exuding charm and mystery.
Though he blended into the crowd, his presence stood apart.
“Good evening,” Kyron greeted smoothly, his playful smile growing as he stopped in front of her. “Sorcha.”
The casual intimacy of his tone drew immediate attention from her companions. Riona raised an eyebrow, intrigued, while Drystan smirked. Emry’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly as he stepped closer to Riona, his hand brushing lightly against hers.
Eirin, however, stiffened, his jaw tightening as he instinctively positioned himself slightly in front of Sorcha. Kyron ignored the silent tension, his eyes focused entirely on Sorcha.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” he asked lightly, though he made no effort to wait for her response. “I’m an… acquaintance of Sorcha’s,” he added, his confidence disarming as his gaze flickered toward Eirin, deliberately testing the waters.
Sorcha opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Kyron stepped closer, placing his hand lightly on the small of her back. With a polite nod toward the others, he said, “I’d like to steal her for a dance.”
Eirin’s posture tensed further, his knuckles white as his hands clenched at his sides.
Emry, watching the exchange with a quiet intensity, shifted slightly as though ready to intervene. Sorcha glanced at her friends, unsure how to navigate the moment. Kyron’s hand, though gentle, was undeniably firm as he guided her toward the dance floor with an ease that left no room for protest.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sorcha hissed as soon as they were out of earshot. Her words cut through the lively music and laughter around them. “You can’t just show up here like this.”
Kyron smirked, tilting his head as though her frustration entertained him. “Would you rather I appear in the woods again? I thought this might be… less ominous.”
Sorcha glared at him, but his gaze softened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I wanted to see you, Sorcha. You’re impossible to ignore.”
The words, spoken so calmly and earnestly, left her momentarily speechless. His movements were smooth, his grip firm but never forceful. Sorcha couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he fit into the rhythm of the festival, as though he belonged there as much as the soft lights and music.
“Kyron—” she began, but before she could finish, a firm hand clamped onto his shoulder.
“Mind if I cut in?” Eirin asked, his tone leaving no room for refusal. His eyes burned with unspoken jealousy as they locked onto Kyron’s.
Kyron raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning as he stepped back with a slight bow. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of monopolizing her time.” He retreated to the edge of the dance floor, crossing his arms as he watched Eirin pull Sorcha into his arms.
Drystan leaned closer to Riona, his grin wide with mischief. “Think I should go next? Might as well make it a competition.”
Riona chuckled, her eyes gleaming. “I think Kyron’s face is competition enough.”
Kyron stood at a distance, his gaze focused on Sorcha and Eirin as they danced. Though his expression remained calm, the irritation in his eyes was unmistakable. He did little to mask the tension in his jaw or the way his fingers tapped against his arm.
On the dance floor, Sorcha’s thoughts swirled as she tried to focus on Eirin’s steady presence. Yet, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake the lingering heat of Kyron’s touch or the intensity of his gaze that still followed her every move.
Eirin’s jaw tightened as he noticed her attention drifting toward Kyron, who now stood with other members of the Circle, talking and laughing softly. Sorcha couldn’t help but wonder what they were discussing, her curiosity tugging at her despite her best efforts to stay present with Eirin.
“So, Sorcha,” Eirin began, his voice cutting through her thoughts, “who’s the guy?”
Caught off guard, Sorcha quickly looked at Eirin, stumbling to find the right words. She didn’t understand why she felt uneasy talking about Kyron, especially to Eirin. Her feelings were confusing and layered, like a knot she couldn’t untangle. After a pause, she finally said, “He’s an old friend.”
Eirin raised a brow skeptically. “Old friend, huh?
And why haven’t we met him before?”
Sorcha hesitated, her mind racing for an explanation. “Because… he lives further away, near Ironridge,” she said, her voice steady. “We met as kids, and I’ve only seen him randomly since then.”