Page 16 of The Divine Shallows
With a slow and hesitant stride, Elyria made her way over the ledge and into the Divine Shallows. An air of uncertainty surrounded her as she sought out the sigil of House Fangwright, a firedrake. Stepping onto the tiled dragon, she waited expectantly. However, to her dismay, the stone remained dull and lifeless.
A collective gasp filled the Temple as Elyria stood there in silence, her apprehension palpable.
The primordial voice echoed in Elowyn’s mind one last time. “Fey of Neramyr, this marks the conclusion of the Seventh Day, let us welcome the candidates for the next season’s Trial of Caena.”
The memoryfrom seven years past ripped away from Elowyn’s mind, jolting her awake with a gasp, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest. She struggled to catch her breath, a throbbing headache pulsating in her temples. Tossing aside the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the cool marble floor offering a momentary relief to her clammy skin. With a series of rapid blinks, she attempted to dispel the lingering fog that obscured her thoughts.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, a knot of unease twisted in Elowyn’s stomach. She was not one to often dream, especially not in Neramyr where dreams held weighty implications. The vivid recollection of the memory unsettled her deeply—it was a day she had tried hard to bury in the recesses of her mind. It was the day she realized thatwhile she had idolized her sister Elyria, the rest of Neramyr held a vastly different opinion.
The memory of that day flooded back, vivid and unwelcome. Elowyn remembered the deafening silence that engulfed the Temple after her sister’s candidacy was announced. Whispers, like venomous serpents, slithered through the air, poisoning every corner of the room. The pity once reserved for Elyria morphed into shock and disdain as the fey within the temple turned their scornful gazes towards her.
On that fateful day, Elowyn recalled how her sister stood frozen in the Divine Shallows, the weight of the crowd’s judgment bearing down on her. The air crackled with disbelief. In the face of the growing chorus of insults and jeers, Elyria remained silent, her fear apparent amidst the sea of hostility that surrounded her.
The Cursed Princess.
The Heir of Nothing.
The Unmarked Fangwright.
The Unblessed.
Despite the scorn of the seven realms, Elyria maintained a stoic disposition. It was only when their father, the king of Eriden, cast his gaze upon Elyria with disgust that her mask finally crumbled. A solitary tear escaped her eye, then another, until her cheeks were streaked with sorrow. Elyria’s head fell to her chest as her aura shattered from the force of an entire realm against her.
Elowyn’s heart shattered alongside it as she witnessed her sister’s anguish. The cries of injustice caught in her throat. The fey in the temple had no right to judge her sister so harshly. They didn’t know Elyria. None of them did. Elyria was Elowyn’s sun, her stars, her entire world—her older sister.
Elowyn yearned to rush to Elyria’s side, to shield her as Elyria had always done for her. But their father’s grip held her back, leaving her powerless as she watched her sister wither under the weight of her kingdom’s ire.
That night, back in Eriden, Elowyn climbed into Elyria’s bed and held her as she wept. She clung to her sister, wishing she could bear some of her pain. But Elyria’s tears seemed endless.
Elowyn could do nothing as she watched her older sister ache and fade into despair.
Sighing wearily, Elowyn felt this dream could only serve as an ill omen on the eve of this season’s First Day.
In the nightsky outside Elyria’s window, moonlight cast its gentle glow upon the feylands. She lay in the darkness of her bedchamber, awaiting the embrace of slumber. Her gaze drifted to the silk drapes enveloping the pillars of her four-poster bed, lost in thought.
Tomorrow marked the beginning of the Ceremony of Caena. Her fingers idly traced the opal teardrop pendant adorning her neck, while she focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath. Hours slipped by unnoticed as she waited for sleep to claim her, but it remained elusive.
Unsure if minutes or hours had passed, she finally broke her stoicism. Turning her head towards the window, she noticed the gentle rays of dawn filtering through the curtains.
Releasing a sigh so soft, not even a fey with golden ears could hear, Elyria sat up and swung her legs over the side of her bed and began to dress.
The First Day had begun.
6
Whispers of Kingdom Courts
As the weeklong Ceremony commenced,the kingdom of Eriden held the honor of hosting the First Day festivities. Elowyn wandered through the royal gardens of her home, dressed in a champagne gown. The gown’s bodice was fashioned as a corset and the sleeves fell to her wrists while the material wrapped her chest within a curved neckline that bled into the shoulders. Elowyn looked positively radiant for the First Day.
Emphasizing her status as a princess of Neramyr, a golden cloak was clasped at her shoulders. Crafted from the finest silk in the feylands, the cloak was embroidered with a classic pattern of dragon scales, symbolizing her lineage to one of the original founders of Neramyr.
Elowyn had spent the greater part of her morning getting ready with Ora who weaved a portion of her snow-white hair into an updo. Braids intertwined at the base of her temples, forming a half-circlet atop her head, while the rest of her snowy locks cascaded in gentle waves down her back. She opted for a subtle rosy hue on her lips and a chestnutbronze blush to highlight her features. The only adornment she wore was her teardrop necklace, a cherished gift from her older sister she’d worn daily since childhood.
Half an hour had passed since Elowyn’s arrival in the royal gardens, where she was patiently awaiting Elyria. However, her sister was late. This prompted Elowyn to walk along the winding paths of the impressively manicured gardens alone. For the past week, the royal castle had been flooded with event stewards, groundskeepers, servants, and cooks. Her mother spared no expense during this time as the most noteworthy members of the seven realms would gather in Eriden to witness the First Day.
Last season, the First Day had been hosted in Erimead by the monarchs of House Blackbane. It was customary for a different kingdom to undertake the responsibility of hosting each day of the weeklong ceremony each season. While the responsibility of hosting a particular day is changed, the sequence of which kingdom it is passed on to remains the same. Last season, though she was seven years younger than she is now, Elowyn still recalled the resplendence and extravagance King Balt and Queen Nyra Blackbane put forth in honor of the Goddess and the First Day. Her mother did the same, if not more, to commence the sacred weeklong ritual.
As Elowyn wandered the paths of the royal gardens, she cast a glance towards the castle entrance, anticipating the arrival of the other six royal families and various courtiers from across the seven realms. Earlier, her father had authorized the castle sentries to temporarily adjust the protective wards safeguarding the castle, accommodating entry for the guests of the First Day.
