Eclipca

31.

Delora 

We finally arrived at the grand dining hall, a place of stark contrast to the lively chaos of the marketplace. The hall was bathed in an ethereal glow, the white marble floors gleaming under soft candlelight. High arched windows let in the last of the evening sun, casting long, golden rays across the room. It was spacious, elegant, and strangely silent, save for the faint murmur of conversations.

Long tables stretched out before us, set for what seemed to be an important gathering. The clink of silverware and soft whispers created a low hum that filled the space. As I scanned the room, I noticed not just noble families but also angelic figures seated at the far end—radiant beings whose presence alone made the air feel heavier. Their pristine white wings shimmered faintly, folded neatly behind their chairs, as they quietly conversed amongst themselves. Children sat beside them, playing with ornate trinkets or listening wide-eyed to whispered stories.

Seph and Solarys led me toward one of the tables, their usual easy demeanor now tempered by the gravity of the moment. I could feel eyes on us, or more specifically, on me. The tension was unmistakable, though no one openly acknowledged it. As we found our seats, I realized that this wasn't just a casual gathering—it was a council of sorts, with beings of immense power and influence all under one roof.

Solarys leaned over, his voice low as he explained, "This dinner is important. Many of these families have ties to both kingdoms, and their influence can sway the balance of power. We need to tread carefully."

Seph gave me a reassuring nod, her hand briefly brushing my arm. "Stay close. You're safe here."

But as I settled into my chair, I couldn't shake the feeling that this gathering held more secrets than I could comprehend. Across the room, the royal siblings from the werewolf kingdom sat at a prominent table, speaking in hushed tones with some of the angelic figures. Their eyes flicked toward us occasionally, a silent reminder that they hadn't forgotten our earlier encounter.

A bell chimed softly, and a hush fell over the hall as servants began to bring out platters of food—exquisitely roasted meats, colorful vegetables, and sweet-smelling bread. The scents were rich and inviting, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were elsewhere, swirling in a maelstrom of uncertainty.

As plates were placed before us, I couldn't help but glance toward the angels. Their wings, so similar to what I now felt within me, stirred a longing and a deep sense of foreboding. What would they do if they knew? Could they sense what I was hiding?

Before I could dwell too long on the thought, one of the children seated near the angels pointed toward me, his innocent eyes wide with curiosity. "Look! She's like them!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying through the silence.

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Conversations halted, and all eyes turned toward me—families, the royals, even the angels. My heart pounded in my chest as I froze, unsure of how to respond. I glanced at Seph and Solarys, but they looked just as stunned as I was.

The child's words lingered in the air, and I could feel the weight of their gazes, curious and probing, waiting for a reaction. My secret—my wings, my true nature—felt closer to being exposed than ever before.

Time seemed to slow as all eyes fell on me. My breath caught in my throat, the weight of their stares almost unbearable. For a moment, I couldn't move or think. The child who had pointed me out stood there, wide-eyed, ready to say something more, but his mother quickly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't start telling stories again," she chided gently but firmly. Her voice cut through the tension, and she gave him a look that only a mother could—a mixture of warning and affection. "Apologize," she added, her tone soft yet insistent.