Page 8 of The Divine Shallows
Clutching the gown to her chest, Elowyn turned to Elyria, her silver eyes wide as she gestured towards the room filled with the equally enchanting attire.
“When were you going to tell me aboutthis?” Elowyn huffed; her tone tinged with annoyance.
“Ora helped the royal seamstress bring them in late last night. Mother apparently ordered enough dresses to clothe all of Eriden,” Elyria explained, her lips forming a thin line. “I think she wants me to wear a different gown every second of this week.”
“At least you’ll be the best dressed for all seven days leading up to the Trial,” Elowyn replied with understanding. “Mother’s feeling uneasy, isn’t she?”
“All I know is that she expects me to look immaculate every night of the Ceremony. Probably so I don’t embarrass her in front of the other six kingdoms,” Elyria confessed, her gaze fixed on her hands as she turned her thumbs in absent-minded circles.
“You are and always will be the most beautiful fey in all the seven realms—and that’s not an exaggeration. Trust me, if you were ugly, I’d be kind enough to let you know,” Elowyn teased, placing her palm over her heart mockingly.
“If I mess up or have one hair out of place, father will spurn me for the rest of the Ceremony,” Elyria continued.
Elowyn understood the weight behind her sister’s words; she knew their father’s unforgiving nature all too well. No matter how many triumphs Elyria achieved, a single misstep could overshadow them all.Raised within the confines of the castle, Elyria faced relentless scrutiny and criticism not only from their father but also from the fey of Eriden. Elowyn herself wasn’t immune to King Fangwright’s harsh judgment, but she had never felt the same hostility from their folk. Compared to the storms Elyria weathered, Elowyn’s own challenges seemed like mere rain showers.
Returning the dress to its place on the golden beam, Elowyn moved to a dresser across the room. She retrieved two white tunics made of lightweight cotton and fetched pairs of leather pants and matching boots from a nearby chest. Silently, she handed a set to Elyria, and both sisters dressed in somber silence, attempting to shake off the lingering memories of their father’s cruelty during their childhood.
“All right, enough of the gloomy chatter. Let’s have some fun,” Elowyn declared, extending her hand for her sister to grasp.
Elyria clasped her younger sister’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, expressing silent her gratitude.
The two sistersstrolled out of the room, arms linked once more, making their way towards the castle grounds near the rock gardens that overlooked the expansive ranges of the Eriden mountains. Elowyn wondered whether her sister’s tendencies toward solitude were natural or a learned disposition. Elowyn understood that in the presence of their parents, Elyria did whatever it took to avoid criticism or condemnation. Despite her talent and power, Elyria was treated as an outcast by society simply because she was not moon-blessed after her birth.
Elowyn could sense that her sister was not well. Elyria’s laid-back demeanor was merely a facade, an attempt to appear strong for the challenging week ahead. The fey of Neramyr were proud and traditional, but at times, they could also be cynical and disillusioned. The memoryof the last Ceremony was still painfully vivid in Elowyn’s mind. She had witnessed her sister’s radiant spirit dim under the weight of others’ cruelty until it was extinguished entirely. The memory of that ordeal still gnawed at Elowyn’s core as they wandered further within the familiar walls of their home.
After some time, the two sisters reached an open courtyard settled within the castle grounds. Elowyn inhaled deeply, relishing the fresh air. The sky stretched out in a brilliant blue canvas, adorned with playful clouds that danced across its horizon. They wandered through the gardens, following patterned brick pathways flanked by rose bushes. Every so often, they passed by ornamental trees heavy with berries and blossoms, infusing the air with a sweet fragrance.
In moments like these, Elowyn wished she could spend the rest of her days as an ordinary highborn lady of the court. She imagined leisurely strolls through the castle grounds, indulging in biscuits and tea while gossiping about royal scandals, clad in frilly gowns and carrying lace parasols to shield herself from the sun.
Yet, as the Crown Princess of Eriden, she bore the weight of duties and responsibilities far beyond her personal interests. As they walked, courtiers bowed and curtsied in deference to the two princesses making their way through the courtyard.
Their journey came to a halt as they approached a large cliff that extended from the mountain. Towering above them stood a weathered stone archway, twenty feet tall, with carvings depicting fangs, plumes of flames, and dragon scales etched into the once-smooth surface. A faint, pulsating aura emanated from the archway, growing stronger as Elowyn and Elyria drew nearer.
This stone archway, erected by the first king of Eriden, held sacred significance, and was imbued with divine magic that permitted only members of the royal family to pass beyond its pillars.
Beyond them, lay a vast expanse of rocky terrain ending in a cliff. The landscape, devoid of allure, consisted mostly of anempty stretch save for a watering trough, a handful of cavernous stables, and scant vegetation. In stark contrast to the grandeur of the archway, the cliff failed to captivate the eye.
With Elyria leading the way, the sisters crossed the threshold of the archway. As they did, their surroundings underwent a subtle transformation. Once a mundane dirt cliff, it now revealed a stone pathway leading to a series of snaking stairs ascending the mountainside. Elyria forged ahead, guiding them further up the mountain. As they climbed, the air grew thinner with elevation, yet having been acclimated to the mountains since birth, the sisters showed only a sheen of sweat as a sign of exertion. Step by step, they ascended, bridging the gap between soil and sky.
Eventually, they arrived at another rocky platform that overlooked the mountain’s edge. Across from them lay dark, deep caves burrowed into the mountainside. Scanning the area, Elowyn spotted monstrous prints pressed into the dirt beneath them. Both sisters observed the fresh tracks and exchanged a knowing glance.
Breaking the mountain’s tranquility with a melodic voice, Elyria called out, “Stryx... Bane... You can stop hiding now.”
At her word, a slow rustling sounded from the surrounding evergreens. The trees quivered and shook, then suddenly, two large, winged figures shot into the sky swift as lightning. The two forms arced back down, plummeting hues of charcoal gray and stark chalk. Just before they were about to collide with the rocky platform, their massive leathery wings spread wide, flapping rhythmically in sync.
Despite their imposing size, the two creatures landed with remarkable agility and precision, creating a gust of wind that prompted the sisters to brace themselves, anchoring their feet firmly into the ground.
The slightly smaller of the two creatures, the one with a chalk-colored coat, fixed its eyes on Elyria as it approached her cautiously. Gradually closing the distance, it stopped, extending its scaled snout to sniff her scent. Elyria stood frozen as the creature inspected her,but as it recognized her, a screech of approval escaped its lips, followed by a tender nuzzle.
“I’m glad to see you too, Stryx,” Elyria said with a laugh, her voice as sweet as honey. She gently patted the creature’s maw, eliciting a purr-like rumble of contentment as it leaned into her touch.
As Elyria continued to stroke Stryx’s head, she remarked, “It seems you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.” In response, Stryx emitted a spirited grunt, demanding more affection, while an ethereal aura radiated from his body.
Elowyn watched her sister joyfully, reveling in her carefree behavior.
Shortly after the warm interaction with Stryx, Bane, the larger companion, began to approach Elyria. His massive form moved with a calculated grace, each step emphasized the power evident in his rippling muscles. As he neared, his towering charcoal-gray silhouette loomed over Stryx, standing an impressive thirteen feet tall.
“Hello, Bane,” Elyria greeted softly.
