Page 41 of The Divine Shallows
Pausing her brushing, Elyria arched an eyebrow curiously. “You kissed Draeden Darkmaw?”
Elowyn nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, and it was amazing,” she confessed with a gleam in her eye. “Really amazing.”
Elyria laughed. “I can tell. It’s about time you had some fun with someone. It feels like ages since your last tryst with that noble boy, doesn’t it?”
“Hey,” Elowyn protested. “It wasn’t that long ago... just a few months.”
Changing the subject, Elowyn turned to Elyria with a knowing look. “What about you and Sylas Fenhart? You seem quite taken with him. ‘Hopefully soon to be four’,” she mocked.
Elyria’s expression shifted, her gaze narrowing. “What about me and Sylas?” she replied evasively. “He’s a strong candidate, that’s all. It wouldn’t be surprising if he returned with ananimus.”
“Youtotallylike him. I can see it in your eyes,” Elowyn goaded.
Elyria scoffed in denial, but then leaned in closer to Elowyn, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Okay, fine,maybea little. But can you blame me? He has the most incredible sea-green eyes, and he’s lavishly handsome, isn’t he?”
“I knew it!” Elowyn gasped. “You two seemed awfully cozy when I spotted you together.”
The two sisters continued to chatter and gossip about everything under the moon. Their conversation, at first gentle, soon bloomed into a series of unfeigned, deep, belly laughs. The two of them felt again their unconditional, unwavering bond that would never bend or break—a bond only sisters could share, and both were beyond thankful for that.
As the afternoon wore on, Elyria put the finishing touches on Elowyn’s hair. With meticulous care, she wove pink lilacs into the braids in Elowyn’s hair, adding a touch of whimsy to her ivory locks. Her hair was styled similarly to the day before, with half down and the other half braided.
For the Third Day, Elowyn wore a stunning, rose-tinted gown that complemented the lilacs in her hair. The dress featured a range of shades, from apricot pink to plum magenta, creating a gradient effect reminiscent of rose petals. Intricate gold thread-work lined thebodice and skirt.
Her neckline was bare, save for the opal teardrop necklace that rested below the base of her neck. The dress’ bodice was a tightly fitted corset that hugged her body. Tulle rose-shaped ribbons draped from her shoulders and drifted down her arms. And, of course, her goldenaureumcompleted her look, clasped and flowing down from her shoulder blades.
Elyria skillfully painted a rosy, pink stain to Elowyn’s lips and generously lined her eyes with kohl. With a brush of bronze pigment on her cheeks, Elowyn looked radiant, as graceful as a garden of blossoms in full bloom.
Next, Elyria attended to her own appearance, donning a gown equally as stunning. Her dress boasted a spectrum of rich yellows, vivid oranges, and glinting golds. Marigolds lined her crown of braids, framing her face as loose curls fell down her back.
Her lips were painted an orange-red and her eyelids were decorated with shimmering gold. The fabric was so lustrous, it nearly blended in with her skin. Her goldenaureumwas clasped at the crest of her shoulder blades’ and it curved deeply, exposing her back. If there was a Goddess of the Sun that existed, Elyria looked like her.
Once both were ready, they both strode into Elowyn’s antechamber and straightened their skirts.
“Ready to face Lochwald?” Elyria extended her hand.
“Ready,” Elowyn took her sister’s hand.
Calling to their magic, they were soon enveloped in a veil of feylight starbursts. Together, they entered through a moongate once more, ready to face whatever awaited them in Lochwald.
In the GreatHall of Mirthwood castle, atop the royal dais, rested two thrones unlike any other in Neramyr. These thrones appeared to be rooted in the dais, the base like the sprawlinggrowth of a mighty tree. Crafted from ancient wood, they towered majestically, their legs and armrests twisting like the branches of a grand oak. The architecture of Lochwald mirrored the surrounding landscape of the Elberrin Forest, which stretched for thousands of miles beyond the castle’s walls.
Claiming these thrones were King Dren and Queen Maeva Mirthwood, rulers of Lochwald. King Dren exuded a commanding presence, and he was the largest warlock Elowyn had ever seen.
His stature was imposing, his umber skin starkly contrasting the final Mark of Caena. Queen Maeva was equally admirable, her aura was as formidable as she was distinctly beautiful. Her chestnut-colored ringlets framed her face while a crown of gems rested upon her head. The king wore a surcoat the color of the pine with golden threads that coiled like vines.
Beside them stood their son, the prince of Lochwald, a younger reflection of his father but lacking the wisdom and foresight gained through ruling a kingdom for hundreds of years. Towering over Elowyn, he displayed an air of confidence, his emerald attire emphasizing his muscular physique. A goldenaureumdraped from his shoulder, completing his regal appearance.
At the prince’s feet rested two remarkable creatures, the divineanimusof Lochwald—grimwolves. Their leaden onyx fur and snarling snouts were menacing and their jaws were lined with wicked, whetted fangs. Muscular and sleek, they radiated a sense of power and ferocity. Elowyn couldn’t help but be impressed—they were a testament to the strength and majesty of House Mirthwood.
“Welcome to the kingdom of Lochwald!” King Dren’s booming voice filled the Great Hall of the Mirthwood castle. “Today we gather to celebrate the Third Day, the Lore ofLunaris.”
Lochwald’s Great Hall appeared as an extension of the Elberrin Forest, with crawling vines decorating the limestonefloor and fountains bubbling softly like babbling brooks. Above, stained glass windows bathed the room in a warm, sunlit glow.
“On this sacred day, we join to unravel the legend of divine magic’s origins in Neramyr and pay homage to our liberator, the Moon Goddess. Following tradition, our ceremony will commence at moonrise, at the sanctuary within the Elberrin Forest where the Shrine of Oswin rests. Please enjoy the glory and graciousness that the kingdom of Lochwald has to offer. Let the celebration begin!”
As a piano melody drifted through the air, the hall buzzed with chatter and servants circulated, offering glasses of honeyedvinum. Elowyn suppressed a sigh, already feeling weary from the week-long Ceremony, which had only just begun its third day. There was a limit to how muchvinumshe could drink and how much small talk she could endure.
Turning to Elyria beside her, she braced herself for what she dreaded most: saying a heartfelt goodbye. It wasn’t a true farewell, but seven years was a long time.
