Morning light spilled across the curved walls of Ellowyn's room, filtered through shimmering, Ether-laced vines that framed her window. The soft hum of Yal Elunore waking drifted in on a cool breeze, the distant chime of crystal bells, the muffled footsteps of artisans stirring to open their workshops.
For once, no summons awaited her. The Ether gatherers had been granted respite, a rare interval during the high mists, when the flow of Ether slowed and the forests were allowed a breath of renewal.
Ellowyn stirred beneath her light linens, stretching slowly just as a knock sounded at her door.
Before she could answer, it creaked open and a familiar voice called inside, laced with mischief. "Finally awake, you lazy Nymble-tail?[1]"
A tall figure stepped into the room, silver-haired and grinning, arms folded with theatrical impatience as the light touched his face. His steps were quiet, but the faint creak of polished armor followed him, the layered plates beneath his cloak catching bits of morning light. A pauldron glinted at his shoulder, and a belt lined with crystalline insignias shifted slightly as he leaned against the doorframe.
Ellowyn laughed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Hardly fair, coming from someone who missed supper."
"My apologies, little sister. Guard duty by the riverbanks," he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. " Had to make sure the Syrends[2] stayed on their side of the stories."
She sat up straighter, smiling warmly at the sound of his voice. "Aeryn, you make it sound heroic."
He chuckled, crossing the room in a few lazy strides to ruffle her hair, earning a half-hearted swat in return. "Someone has to protect you lot while you're off picking flowers and daydreaming about lost cities." he added.
Ellowyn smoothed her silver strands back into place, though her smile lingered. Aeryn had always been different from their father, less rigid, less bound by the heavy pride that marked so many Eldians. He carried duty the way others wore scarves: lightly, comfortably, and with his eyes still full of light.
"I'm heading to Eldorwyn tonight," he said, dropping onto the bench by her window with a contented sigh. "Today is the Festival of the First Light. You coming?"
She brightened immediately. "Wouldn't miss it."
"Good," he said with a rare, genuine smile. "We could all use a night of forgetting who we're supposed to be."
There was something in his voice that made her pause, but before she could speak, he pushed himself to his feet and clapped a hand gently against the wall.
"See you there, sleepy Nymble-tail," he called over his shoulder as he left her room. The door swung shut, leaving Ellowyn alone with the golden hush of morning, and a heart strangely restless with anticipation.
-break-
Evening fell softly over the forest as Ellowyn walked the winding path toward Eldorwyn, her lantern casting long shadows across the moss-covered trail. Overhead, the trees parted just enough to reveal glimpses of the Aelorian Lake, its surface catching the last blush of sunset.
Tonight, the village would gather for the Festival of the First Light, an ancient celebration shared by Eldians, Elves, and Fwllings to honor the Ether that gave them life.
Ellowyn smiled as the first notes of harp and lute reached her ears, drifting through the air like fireflies made of sound. As she crossed the archway of woven vines that marked Eldorwyn's entrance, the warmth of voices, lantern light, and laughter surrounded her.
A strong voice rang out above the music. "Ellie!"
The call came from across the square, rising above the music.
A figure wove through the crowd toward her, silver hair tousled, tunic loose and relaxed, a stark contrast to the formal wear expected in Yal Elunore.
Aeryn opened his arms and pulled her into a brief, warm hug."You made it," he said, patting her shoulder with a grin.
She laughed, already feeling the weight of the day lifting. "Wouldn't dream of staying away."
Together they wandered toward the heart of the celebration, a wide clearing where low tables were laden with fruit, spiced breads, and honeyed drinks. The sweet, buttery scent of warm pastries blending with the crisp forest air. Lanterns floated in the air, their lights shifting gently with the rhythm of the breeze.
Elves in loose, flowing garments danced barefoot around the fire, laughter ringing like chimes. Their movements were effortless, joyful, so different from the careful steps taught in Yal Elunore.
Ellowyn watched, heart stirring with something between admiration and yearning. Aeryn handed her a small glass of sweetened etherfruit wine. "Careful. One cup and you'll think you can out-dance the Elves," he joked.
She chuckled and took a sip, letting the warmth spread through her, and soon she found herself drawn into the gentle whirl of music and laughter. The Elves pulled her into their dances without hesitation, their steps light and free, spinning beneath the flickering lanterns.
For a time, Ellowyn forgot everything, the lessons, the discipline, the unspoken weight of lineage. In those dances, she felt a kind of wonder untouched by formulas or technique. It was a wonder of life itself, messy, joyful, and imperfect, filling her heart until she could hardly breathe from smiling.
Eventually, she drifted to the edge of the clearing, settling onto a patch of soft grass where the glow of the fire flickered gently across her skin. It was then, from nearby, that she caught the low murmur of voices.
Nearby, a group of young Eldians and Elves sat in a loose ring, voices lowered, their tones sharper with drink. One voice cut through the rest, eager and defiant carrying a reckless edge that made Ellowyn's ears tilt instinctively toward the sound.
"I'm telling you, there's more beyond the Ether Woods," said a young man leaning forward. "Not just cities of glass or black seas, but ruins and Monsters. Things they never talk about inside the Dome."
His hand gripped his knee, knuckles white in the glow of the fire.
"They tell us Skyland is still shimmering, still safe, that by tending our forests, patrolling our borders, we're helping keep it alive. But how do we know? How do we know what's really out there anymore?"
A few of the Elves shifted, their laughter fading into uneasy glances, and among the Eldians, a hush settled like heavy mist.
Before the man could say more, a familiar figure moved toward him, calm but carrying a quiet, firm authority. It was Aeryn, placing a steady hand on the man's shoulder.
"That's enough talk for tonight, Talanar," His tone was kind but carried a weight that silenced the conversation. Aeryn gave a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Some doors, once opened, are not so easily closed." he added, voice quieter now.
Talanar flushed, glancing quickly at someEldian elders nearby who had turned their heads toward the commotion. He gave a stiff bow, his voice low and almost casual as if brushing it all away. "My apologies," he muttered. "Perhaps the Moonleaf Brew speaks more boldly than I do."
A few chuckled awkwardly, eager to let the moment pass. But from her place in the grass, Ellowyn noticed how Talanar's eyes stayed sharp, sobered not by drink, but by something deeper.
Aeryn gave Talan's shoulders a firm squeeze, half reassurance, half warning and stepped away.
For a moment, the circle sat in uneasy quiet, the fire crackling louder than before. Then, as if nothing had happened, the music swelled again, and laughter rose over the clearing lighter, but not quite as free.
Aeryn returned to Ellowyn's side, but when he settled beside her, she saw the change in his eyes a quietness, a weight he didn't voice.
"Not everyone here forgets the old warnings," he said quietly.
Ellowyn nodded, though a small tremor stirred in her heart, a chill that no fire could quite chase away. She lingered among the gathering for a while longer, letting the lilting songs and warm firelight wrap around her like a half-forgotten dream.
Yet even as laughter rose around her, a part of her wandered elsewhere, toward the edges of the clearing, toward the shadows beyond the clearing. Toward something waiting.
-break-
Later that night, as the fires burned low and laughter faded to a warm hum, the scent of charred herbs drifted on the breeze. Lanterns floated lazily above the clearing, their light dimming into soft gold.
Ellowyn stirred from her seat at the edge of the celebration, blinking away the haze of wine and song. A sudden, playful tug at the hem of her gown made her glance down, startled, but nothing was there.
Then a second tug came, firmer this time, urging her toward the treeline.
She rose slowly, curiosity prickling at her skin. The others were still lost in dance and drink, unaware as she stepped into the deeper dark.
Behind a curtain of ivy, tucked within a quiet hollow lit only by the drift of forgotten lanterns, a small figure crouched in the shade—copper-furred, eyes glowing like molten gold.
"Rikuin?" she whispered, breath catching in surprise before a quiet laugh escaped her lips. "You startled me."
He grinned, ears twitching with mischief as he appears from the shades of the tree. "That was the idea."
Ellowyn knelt beside him, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What are you doing here? I thought your kind hated festivals, too loud, too crowded."
Rikuin tilted his head, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. "You'd be surprised. A few of my kin are out there right now, stuffing their faces with moonberry tarts."
Ellowyn blinked, a laugh bubbling up. "Moonberry tarts?"
Rikuin smirked. "Sticky little savories these Elves make. Sweet enough to glue your jaws shut. We can't resist."
His tail flicked once behind him as he shrugged lightly. "But mostly, I came to see you."
The teasing softened in his voice as he studied her, the playful glint dimming into something more solemn.
"I see the Ether Tree still shares her music here," he said quietly, tilting his head toward the distant hum of the lake's edge, where the winds wove whispers between the waters.
Ellowyn's smile dimmed. She felt it too, that shift. "You're more serious than usual. Is something wrong?"
Rikuin's expression faltered. His ears lowered slightly. "There are things happening beyond the Blue Forest, Ellie," he said, voice low. "Things your people don't hear anymore… or maybe choose not to."
Ellowyn leaned in, instinctively hushed. "What things?"
Rikuin hesitated, the silence stretching between them. Then he looked away, his amber eyes catching the faint light of the lanterns. For a moment, he was silent as if weighing words that were too heavy to share.
"Dark things," he said at last. "Things that don't fit into the songs we sing by the fire."
Ellowyn's heart thudded once, quiet but firm. She tried to smile, to bring some lightness back. "Maybe it's just old fears. Stories meant to scare children when the mists grow thick."
Rikuin gave a soft chuckle, not mocking, but tired. "Maybe. But some stories aren't told because they're not finished yet."
The breeze stirred around them, carrying the smell of damp moss and the faint edge of coming rain. Ellowyn shivered, though the air remained warm.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a breath. "Just… listen closely. Not all dangers wear horns and claws. Some come softly. Some look very much like home."
From the folds of his satchel, Rikuin drew a feather, deep blue, its edges tinged with an eerie, shifting gleam. He held it out to her without a word.
Ellowyn took it carefully, the texture strange beneath her fingers. It was light, delicate, and yet there was something wrong in it, something that made her skin prickle.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
"A sign," he said. There was no fear in his voice, only sorrow. "One you won't find in your histories. Not anymore."
They sat for a while, saying nothing more. The sounds of the celebration drifted faintly through the leaves, too far now to feel real.
Then Rikuin rose, brushing the fallen leaves from his cloak in a single, quiet movement.
"I should go," he said, lightness returning to his tone. But the way he looked at her, long and unspoken, held something that didn't match his words.
"Before the guardians wonder why the ivy moves without the wind."
Ellowyn stood as well, the feather clutched gently against her chest. She offered a small, lopsided smile, trying to shake off the strange weight pressing on her heart.
"Same spot tomorrow?" she asked lightly, nodding toward the deeper woods where their secret glade waited.
Rikuin's grin returned, soft and easy, the way she knew it best.
"Of course," he said. "Until tomorrow, Ellie."
He stepped back into the ivy's shadow, the flicker of his copper tail the last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed him. Only his voice drifted back to her, soft, almost like a memory already:
"Remember tonight. The music. The laughter.
The way the world feels when you're not afraid to see it."
And then he was gone.
Ellowyn lingered there, the blue feather trembling in her hand, as the first thin breath of dawn began to stir the mist along the forest floor, a dawn that somehow felt different, heavier, as if Skyland itself were holding its breath.
[1] Field Notes: Nymble-tail
Ethereal Lifeform – Native to the Blue Forest
The Nymble-tail is a small arboreal Etherian species, found exclusively in the Blue Forest's dense Ether fields. Similar to squirrels, they are distinguished by a glowing patch running from their back to their long, prehensile tail, used for signaling and minor Ether conduction.
Nymble-tails display instinctive Ether manipulation, gathering lightweight materials to weave underground dens beneath Ether Tree roots — a behavior unlike typical surface nesters. Their pointed ears are highly sensitive to Ether fluctuations, giving them acute environmental awareness.
Playful yet cautious, they rarely stray beyond stable Ether groves. Their presence signals healthy Ether conditions within the Blue Forest.
— Excerpt from the Sylvanmyr Faunal Survey, Vol. II
[2] Field Notes: Syrends
Ethereal Lifeform – Native to the Blue Forest
Syrends are large, slow-moving Etherian mammals found in the densest groves of the Blue Forest. Resembling oversized, rotund bears, they are often mistaken for more dangerous creatures due to their mass and the deep hum that occasionally resonates from their Ether-rich bodies.
Docile by nature, Syrends spend their days foraging low Ether flora and basking near ancient tree roots. Their immense size makes moving a resting Syrend nearly impossible — a known issue for nearby villages.
Though generally passive, they can unleash sudden bursts of Ether-charged strength if startled, but such aggression is rare. Syrends prefer retreat over confrontation and are seen as a stabilizing force within the forest's delicate Ether ecosystem.
Children’s tales often exaggerate their threat, but seasoned naturalists recognize their gentle role among the Blue Forest's Ether life.
— Excerpt from the Sylvanmyr Faunal Survey, Vol. II