Page 34 of The Divine Shallows
“Of course. It would be my pleasure,” Lyra agreed.
“Wonderful!” Elowyn beamed, linking her arm with Lyra’s, and whisked her away.
Elowyn and Lyrawandered through the halls of the Bloodweaver castle, wine glasses in hand, losing themselves in the amber-lit passages teeming with captivating artwork. They peered atabstract statues and studied the freeform sculptures that decorated the hallways while having to stifle giggles at some more progressive pieces. Lyra narrated certain fables and tales of particular sculptures that Elowyn pointed out in curiosity. An hour passed in this manner, the wine blurring their senses.
“What’s down there?” Elowyn gestured vaguely towards a hallway; her voice slightly slurred from the wine.
“That leads to the royal atrium,” Lyra responded, her words sluggish.
Elowyn sniggered. “An atrium in a cavern? What good would an atrium do underground?”
“Just wait and see. Beauty can be found underground, too,” Lyra replied, grabbing Elowyn’s hand clumsily and leading her towards the hallway.
The two of them meandered forward, as uncoordinated as newborn fawns, while they awkwardly made their way to the looming iron doors that towered before them.
“This is one of my favorite places in the castle for a thousand reasons,” Lyra mumbled with a thick tongue. “And here’s the first one.”
Lyra conjured a shimmering bead of magic in her palm and pressed it to the door. The aura of the door responded to her touch, swinging open slowly to reveal the atrium beyond, welcoming them with a gentle breeze from within. Lyra wandered through the entrance and beckoned Elowyn to trace her footsteps.
Elowyn didn’t expect what she saw next.
The atrium unfolded before her, and her breath hitched at the sight. The atrium was enormous, and much to her chagrin, it wasn’t made of glass. It was a deep underground sanctuary opened to the night sky above. She tilted her head back to stare at the heavens as millions stars twinkled. A natural stone path snaked between endless landscapes of rock formations ranging in various heights, lengths, and textures. If she desired, Elowyn could ascend to higher levels of the atrium to where thepath led. Brilliant crystal growths sprouted from the rocks and glistened in hues of aquamarine, emerald, and violet.
But what made Elowyn want to fall to her knees with wonder was what she found in the center of the atrium. There was a feylight waterfall that streamed from the sky and flowed into a large lake below, forming billowing gentle waves that lapped the shore surrounding it. It was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply as she felt another pull towards the ethereal cave around her. She had no idea how there was the open air several meters below the soil’s surface or why there was a feylight fountain pouring from the sky.
She knew it shouldn’t be possible, but somehow, this felt logical; it felt sound.
“How?” Elowyn whispered, unable to tear her gaze away.
“The divine Goddess of course… And the fifty-third Iron King, King Furno Bloodweaver. He created this atrium,” Lyra mumbled, taking a seat on a nearby bench and patting the space beside her. “The fey of House Bloodweaver are masters of alteration magic, silly. Come, sit.”
Elowyn settled onto the bench next to Lyra, who miraculously produced a bottle of wine from beneath her skirts. Elowyn raised an impressed eyebrow as the brunette fey took a swig before passing it to her.
“I can understand why you’re able to find a thousand reasons to adore this place,” Elowyn remarked, taking a generous sip from the bottle.
Lyra leaned back, releasing a sigh. “Of all the reasons, the one that stands above all is because I fell in love here.”
Elowyn struggled to control her expression, feeling awkward with this type of conversation. She wasn’t accustomed tooffering comfort or discussing matters of the heart, except with her sister. Growing up, her father had kept her isolated, allowing her to interact only with those he approved of. Any budding friendships were swiftly extinguished by his disapproval. This left Elowyn feeling lonely, but Elyria was always there to fill the void.
“Sylas told us about Theo,” Elowyn confessed, handing the bottle back to Lyra. “He’s a twat.”
Lyra looked back at her, surprised.
A moment of silence passed between them before they both erupted into laughter. Tears welled in their eyes as they laughed, the tension dissipating. But then Elowyn noticed the change in Lyra’s demeanor. Her aura darkened, and her expression turned somber.
“He’s not though,” Lyra said, her voice heavy with emotion. “Theo is wonderful. He’s kind and clever. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. He makes me laugh like no one else.”
Elowyn struggled to hide her disdain, her expression betraying her despite the alcohol clouding her judgment. She couldn’t fathom how Lyra could see Theo in such a positive light after their earlier encounter. Unable to find the right words, she remained silent.
“I know, I know,” Lyra admitted, her voice beginning to wobble. “But I’ve seen a side of him that nobody else has. He’s just not what he shows to the world. We spent endless nights here, talking until we fell asleep in each other’s arms. We laughed until our bellies hurt, made love under the stars, danced in the moonlight. We were truly, deeply in love.”
As Lyra poured her heart out, Elowyn couldn’t help but think of Draeden. Just last night, they had stayed up until dawn, sharing their deepest thoughts and feelings. Elowyn remembered the thrill of excitement that surged through her veins in Draeden’s presence, the anticipation of the unknown. Despite her initial reluctance, Elowyn found herself sympathizing with Lyra’s pain. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on Lyra’s arm.
“Sylas mentioned something about him getting upset, but no one seems to know why,” Elowyn said, her tone gentle yet probing.
Lyra’s expression turned pale at thequestion. “I don’t know what happened. I told him I loved him... and he snapped. He became hysterical, said terrible things to me. He hasn’t spoken to me since. He won’t even look at me,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I wish I could take it all back.”
Elowyn’s heart went out to her. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. You deserve to be loved for who you are, completely and unconditionally.” She articulated the words slower than she intended.
