Her arms throbbed as she cradled the one that braced her fall. Attempting to stand up, she quickly regretted her effort. A whimper escaped her lips. She forced herself upright while gritting her teeth, hauling her frame from the ground. She limped to the wall of her bookshelves and managed to reach the center of her recessed foyer just before her legs buckled, grasping desperately for the table to steady herself. The table shuddered under her abrupt grip, and the glass basin filled with violet and magenta-colored lilacs toppled to the floor, shattering into fragments.
Elyria’s eyes turned dangerous as she seized control of her body witha ruthless mental grip of her own making. Clutching the tulle skirts of her gown, she forced her fatigued legs to carry her to the bookshelf on her right, rummaging through the stacks. Behind a tower of books, she extracted a small wooden chest nestled within a hidden space. With a click, she unlatched the chest and began sifting through its contents.
The wooden chest threatened to slip from her grip as she fought to steady herself. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Leaning against the walled bookshelf for support, she sank to the ground into a sitting position. Once stabilized, she delved into the chest’s wooden walls, finding neatly organized scrolls, a collection of potion bottles, and various magical artifacts.
Fingering through the glass potion bottles, she selected one with a spherical bottom and a slender stem. With quivering fingers, she examined the contents—a colorless, viscous solution swirling inside. She withdrew two bottles, tucking one into her dress pocket while clutching the other in her palm. Her heart raced in a frenzy, and she felt slick with sweat. Hastily, she removed the stopper from the glass bottle.
She summoned her magic, lifting her fingers above the bottle’s narrow opening. She called to the potion, beckoning the clear liquid out from the neck of the glass vessel. The thick, transparent fluid responded to her command, rising upward in a steady stream. Elyria adjusted her wrist, guiding the solution to gather around her bare palm and forming a fluid glove around her hand.
The colorless liquid faintly glowed a glacier blue. Without hesitation, Elyria pressed her glowing palm against her chest. As the magical solution seeped into her skin, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. Her shoulders relaxed and she released a sigh. Her breaths steadied into a rhythm, dispelling her panic with each passing moment. Gradually, the glacier glow faded, leaving no trace of the solution on her hand.
Leaning her head back against the wall of books, Elyria let out a sigh of exhaustion. When she felt steady enough to stand, she pushed herself up with agroan, still clutching the wooden chest. With effort, she turned and carefully replaced the chest among the stacks of books on the bottom shelf.
Though her panting had ceased, her body still protested with each painful step. Elyria made her way to the arched entryway leading to her bath chamber. She took only a few strides before she staggered toward the porcelain privy, holding back her braid as she retched into the bowl. Her chest heaved and her throat burned as bile rose. Finally, her stomach emptied, and she collapsed to the ground, spent.
Resting her cheekbones against the cool marble floor, Elyria felt exhaustion overwhelm her.I’m so tired.With weary ears, she listened to her surroundings carefully, ensuring she was truly alone before allowing herself to weep. Angry, clumsy tears streamed down her perfect cheeks and dripped onto the floor. One after the other, the tears shed in legions. She furled and unfurled her firsts in exasperation.
Elyria couldn’t say how long she lay there, but eventually, her tears dried around her. With hollow eyes, she allowed herself to lament a moment longer before rising to her feet and making her way to the large porcelain tub in the center of the bath chamber. She turned on the faucet and watched steamy water fill the tub, veiling the room with mist. She plucked the other glass potion from her pocket and placed it on the bath’s edge. She looked to the potion with reassurance, but then quickly, her eyes hardened with resentment.
She unclasped the goldenaureumthat hung off her back, followed by loosening the corset strings of her gown. She grimaced as she let the gown drape from her chest and let go, the layers of sage falling to the ground.
Elyria examined her shoulders and back in the mirror, her expression stiffening as she noticed reddened welts on her naked frame. Her aura shifted from one of distress to one of outrage. She harshly grabbed the glass potion and emptied it into the water. The water began to glow with the same glacier luminescence as before. Setting theempty bottle back on the bath’s edge, Elyria winced at the throbbing pain from the wounds on her shoulders and back—the very places where the ancienttelarested in the Favor of the Seven. The surface of her shoulders were wrapped in a shawl of wounds.
Elyria approached the edge of the bath and turned off the faucet, then carefully stepped into the glowing waters, lifting one leg and then the other. As she sank into the warmth, she let out a small groan of relief. The tub was nearly filled to the top, stopping just below her neck. Surrendering her fury to the temperate tides, she allowed the glowing water into her body. It seeped into her skin, permeated her bones, and embedded itself into her very core. The luminescent waters worked their magic, washing away the wounds on her shoulders and fading them until her skin appeared anew.
As before, the incandescent waters began to dim and return to their former state. Elyria remained in the balmy bath for a while, until the water to cooled. Lifting her arms, she ran her fingers along the loose braid of her silken locks, carefully removing the wildflowers that were woven her hair until none remained. The three words echoed in her mind once again:I’m so tired.Cupping her hands, she collected the cool water within them and lifted it to her face, letting the droplets wash over her.
Elyria repeated this regimen thrice before finally lifting herself from the tub with a sigh. Wrapping herself in a towel, she mindlessly dried herself off and donned a simple silk robe. Once dressed, she made her way to the bedchamber.
Feeling somewhat better than before, Elyria headed towards the makeshift study nestled in the corner of her room. She settled into the cushioned chair at the desk, and traced her fingers along the underside of it until she found a hidden knob. After fiddling with the latch, a compartment door opened with a soft click. She retrieved a small iron chest from the compartment and placed it carefully on the table.
The iron chest, about the size of a tea saucer, had a dark coal exterior with smooth edges and curved bends. It looked like it mighthave originated from the New Age, but it held an air of primitive existence that hinted towards the Old Age. Depictions of the sky, moons, and stars were melded onto its surface. Among them were illustrations of the new moon, waning crescent, and full moon, all meticulously detailed in a manner befitting Neramyran craftsmanship.
Elyria summoned a tiny bead of magic to her palm and placed it on the iron latch, which produced a soft clink as it unlocked. Carefully lifting the lid, she rifled through the contents within, finding only a bundle of parchment. Among them, she extracted a worn and tattered sheet, its edges yellowed and frayed from age.
With spelled eyes, she scoured over the words written on the parchment, her mind consuming the information before her. Blinking, her silver irises returned, and she folded the parchment back into fourths, tucking it away in the iron chest once more. With a final closure, the lid latched shut with a magical clasp.
Elyria placed the iron chest back into its hidden compartment beneath the table’s surface and she sat in contemplation, her hands interlaced beneath her chin. Peering through the swaying curtains at the midnight sky, her silver eyes displayed a moment of hesitation before settling into a resolute gaze.
Elyria strode to her closet and retrieved a set of plain trousers, a loose tunic, and sturdy brown leather boots. She dressed herself in the simple attire and secured her long ivory hair into a tight braid. From another armoire, she retrieved a thick, muted gray cloak, wrapping it snugly around her frame.
She returned to the antechamber and approached the concealed wooden chest from earlier, opening it to retrieve another glass bottle filled with viscous liquid. Tucking it into the pocket of her cloak, she frowned upon realizing it was the last in her inventory, mentally noting to replenish her supply later.
Pulling the heavy hood of her cloak over her head, she obscured her features, rendering herself unremarkable. With afinal glance at the wooden chest, she tucked it back behind the stack of books before making her way to the cherry-stained door leading to the castle’s hallway.
Elyria placed her ear against the embellished door to listen intently. She waited for a breath. With the Second Day of the Ceremony in full swing, the halls were unusually quiet. She summoned a pinch of her magic to the surface, just enough to cloak herself with a primary concealing spell—she needed to conserve the rest of her magic for later.
Carefully cracking the door, she slipped out soundlessly, pausing only to ensure the wards guarding her door were securely anchored before disappearing into the night.
14
Lore of Lunaris
A new dawn had arrived,casting streams of sunlight through the arched windows of Elowyn’s bath chamber. Soft, pearly curtains swayed gently in the mountainside breeze, filling the room with a sense of calm. Elowyn sat in front of her vanity while Elyria combed her long strands with an ornately crafted brush.
“Your aura is so cheerful it’s practically seeping from you,” Elyria remarked as she continued brushing. “Anything you’d like to share?”
Elowyn’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Actually, I do have something to confess,” she began, clasping her hands together. “I kissed someone last night.”