Page 55 of The Divine Shallows
Syrilla and Elowyn shared the same age. As dictated by the mysterious principle of the ‘sacred seven’ royal offspring, the heirs differed in age by no more than seven years.
The Skyborn princess was as beautiful as her mother, the queen of Prymont. Instead of the queen’s honeyed locks, Syrilla’s hair had hues of rose gold, a blend of blush pink, soft coral, and warm gold in her shoulder length strands. Her eyes, a mesmerizing smoky quartz, mirrored the color of slate thunderclouds. Sprouting from her delicate shoulder blades were sheer, gossamer wings. Describing Syrilla’s wings as heavenly felt inadequate; they radiated an ethereal glow, reflecting the feylight in the room with anelegant glimmer.
“Elowyn?” Syrilla’s expression was puzzled. “Moons, it’s been nearly nine years since we last met.”
Elowyn was caught unawares by the sudden encounter with the heir to the Skyborn throne. Memories of her flooded back, and she quickly gathered herself.
“Princess Syrilla,” Elowyn replied awkwardly. “Indeed, it has been quite some time. It's wonderful to see you. You seem well.”
“You can call me Syrilla,” the princess smiled. “We were once good friends, you know.”
Elowyn sensed the sincerity in Syrilla’s words, stirring a wistful emotion within her.
“I remember. I’m glad we’ve crossed paths again,” Elowyn admitted.
The two princesses of Neramyr stood in a moment of awkward silence, uncertain of what to say next. Syrilla absentmindedly twirled her thumbs in circles before breaking the silence.
“Would it be all right to ask why you stopped visiting me in Prymont?” Syrilla inquired candidly. “I sent letters. I even attempted to visit you in Eriden once, but my invitation to Fangwright castle was declined. I was informed that you no longer wished to see me.”
Elowyn’s expression shifted to one of confusion as she absorbed Syrilla’s words. Elowyn couldn’t recall precisely when their communication ceased, but she had always believed it was Syrilla who withdrew from their bond first.
“That’s odd. I was told as a child that you declined my attempts to visit to Prymont.”
A flash of frustration struck through Elowyn’s emotions as guilt also riddled her conscience. She knew that it was her father who kept Syrilla’s letters hidden, and it was he who spun the tale claiming that Syrilla refused her company each time Elowyn requested to visit Prymont.
Her father had always restricted her interactions with other feylands, even within her own kingdom. Yet, Elowyn failed to see theharm in maintaining her friendship with Syrilla. Her father wielded control over every aspect of her life. He would rather her suffer in loneliness than be influenced by entities out of his control—the only exception being her older sister. Perhaps their father feared that restricting Elowyn’s presence in Elyria’s life would prompt Elyria to sell her soul to the reaper of death to ensure he suffered eternally in this realm and all the realms beyond.
A sense of dread and unease settled deep within her as she came to a grim realization. Her father had succeeded in isolating her completely. The wreaths now branded on her hand were symbols of her lost freedom. In just three days, Elyria would embark on her seven-year journey, leaving Elowyn truly alone. Once the Ceremony of Caena concluded, she would have no legitimate reason to freely visit Draeden, Lyra, or Syrilla ever again. Despite her efforts to assert her independence, it seemed that her life would inevitably conform to her father’s desires.
In that moment, Elowyn felt a surge of hopelessness engulfing her, a feeling that seemed impossible to overcome.
19
A Moment of Bliss
Despite the weighton her heart, Elowyn awoke to a fluttering sensation in her chest. Darkness still blanketed the world outside, with the moon casting its final shadows before sunrise. Excitement pulsed through her veins as she remembered Draeden’s plan to meet her at the Temple at dawn, ready to guide her through a moongate into Orwyn. It would be her first time venturing beyond the walls of a castle, and her anticipation bubbled over.
Draeden had advised her to dress simply, in a modest dress and a hooded cloak, for their excursion into the city. As she contemplated the logistics of the upcoming Fifth Day, she wondered if there would be enough time to return to Eriden to prepare herself. At the very least, she needed to inform Elyria, perhaps even enlist her sister’s help in procuring a change of attire. Elowyn couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Elyria’s inevitable curiosity, imagining her sister eagerly questioning her about the day’s later adventures.
Elowyn rose from her bed and noticed a small parchment lying onher bedside table. Intrigued, she reached for it and unfolded the paper, smoothing out its creases. Honey and lilac greeted her as she read the neatly penned words, her sister’s handwriting dancing across the surface of the page.
Dear Elowyn,
I have an early engagement to attend to this morning. Regrettably, I won’t be able to see you before the onset of the Fifth Day, which means you’ll have to prepare without my expert hair braiding skills. Love you dearly. See you in Orwyn.
Elyria
Elowyn chuckled at the note and folded it neatly back into quarters. It seemed her plan to have Elyria bring her a change of clothes was no longer an option. She resolved to ensure she left Orwyn with enough time to return, dress, and arrive before the start of the Fifth Day.
Getting up from her bed, Elowyn began readying herself. She ran a brush through her ivory locks and fashioned them into a loose braid, though it lacked the precision of Elyria’s work. She then selected a simple pale dress with a snug bodice and a flowing skirt to wear from her wardrobe. Lastly, she draped herself in a thick-spun cloak with a hood the color of roasted chestnuts.
Nearly ready to portal to the Temple, Elowyn’s stomach grumbled loudly. She frowned, perhaps she’d sneak into the royal kitchen for a quick bite before departing. Surely the kitchen staff would still be asleep after the festivities of the Fourth Day.
Glancing out of one of the arched windows, Elowyn observed the faint hues of dawn, a dusky indigo that would soon give way to sunrise. Tucking a loose strand of her snowy hair behind her pointed ear, sheensured she had a small coin purse tucked into one of her cloak’s pockets.
Stepping as quietly as she could, Elowyn approached the entrance to her bedchamber and pressed her ear delicately against the wooden door. She waited, her senses heightened, but heard nothing. Her stomach growled once more, and she cursed its refusal to be silenced. With utmost care, she eased the door open and peered into the long hallway beyond. Golden sconces adorned the marble walls, casting a soft glow that danced with the shadows. After a moment’s observation, Elowyn slipped noiselessly out of her room.
Heading in the direction of the kitchens, she moved stealthily until a sound from behind caused her heart to sink.
