Sallitia: Age of War

13

While the battle against Egeldor raged in the White Tower, the kingdom of Hisidore hummed with life as preparations for Mereth Nuin Giliath, the Feast of the Stars, reached their peak. Lanterns cast a soft glow across the castle and its surrounding courtyards, illuminating a night sky already glittering with countless stars. Musicians tuned their instruments, bakers stacked towers of golden pastries, and children darted between the crowd, laughing in anticipation of the feast.

In her chamber, Faelyn stood before her mirror, combing her hair into soft waves. The gentle murmur of celebration outside her window brought a smile to her lips. Her happiness, however, was tinged with nervous energy—this was her first Mereth Nuin Giliath as a grown woman, and she felt the weight of tradition on her shoulders. 

A knock at the door broke her thoughts. "Enter." she called, turning as king Eburon stepped into the room. In his hands was an intricately carved wooden box.

“I have something for you.” Eburon said warmly, his deep voice filling the room. “Your naneth wore this at every Mereth Nuin Giliath while she was captain of the royal guard.” 

Curiosity sparked in Faelyn’s eyes as she accepted the box. Her delicate fingers lifted the lid to reveal a breathtaking silver dress. Its shimmering fabric caught the light like liquid starlight, and the top was crafted with ornate details resembling armor—both elegant and fierce. 

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Faelyn exclaimed, holding the dress up and turning toward the mirror. She pressed it gently against herself, imagining how it would look. 

Eburon approached her, his gaze softening as he saw her radiant reflection. “You are beautiful.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Laralythia would be so proud of you.” 

Faelyn’s breath hitched at the mention of her mother. “Ada… how did you and naneth met?” she asked, her voice quiet but eager. 

Eburon chuckled softly, a faraway look settling in his eyes. “Didn’t I ever tell you that?” He gestured for her to sit beside him on the bed, which she did, her excitement growing.

“When I met your naneth, I was your age. At the time, I was still a prince, heir to the throne. But I often escaped to the forest when courtly life felt too heavy. One day, in the heart of the woods, I stumbled upon a young elf with fiery red hair and emerald green eyes. She was practicing archery but couldn’t hit the target. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the frustration in her stance. So, I approached her and said, "Your aim falters because your heart is too heavy."

Faelyn smiled at the image of her mother as a young archer. “What happened next?” 

“She laughed at me.” Eburon said with a grin. “But then she let me guide her. I showed her how to breathe, to let go of her tension. When she finally struck the target, she smiled—no, she beamed at me—and I knew I was lost.” 

“And that’s when you fell in love?” Faelyn asked, leaning forward.

Eburon chuckled. “Not quite. I thanked her, and she disappeared into the woods. I thought I’d never see her again. But when I returned to the palace, king Oloferm, my father, announced the appointment of the new captain of the royal guard. Imagine my shock when Laralythia strode into the hall, clad in armor, radiating strength and confidence.” 

“She must have been magnificent.” Faelyn said, her voice tinged with awe. 

“She was.” Eburon said softly. “And stubborn as a mountain. We spent years together, sparring and learning each other’s strengths. Despite the whispers that a prince and a guard could never be equals, we fell in love. We married, and soon after, we were blessed with Alvanar, and then you.” 

Eburon stood, brushing invisible dust from his tunic. “Now, hurry and get ready. The feast awaits.” 

Once dressed, Faelyn looked in the mirror. The gown fit her perfectly, accentuating her figure while evoking her mother’s commanding presence. As she descended to the castle courtyard, the elves gathered below fell silent, their gazes filled with admiration. Whispers followed her every step: 

“She’s her mother’s reflection.” 
“Truly a vision of Laralythia.” 

Faelyn joined her father and Alvanar at the dais, where the feast began. Laughter and music filled the air, and yet, Faelyn felt restless. Her eyes drifted toward the woods, to the place that had become her sanctuary.

Later, she slipped away unnoticed, her silver gown trailing softly behind her. At the edge of the spring, Sebastian waited, his dark form silhouetted against the starlight. His lips curved into a gentle smile as she approached.

“You look stunning.” he said, his voice warm. “Sounds like quite the celebration.”

Faelyn settled beside him at the water’s edge, her gaze lifting to the starry sky. “It is Mereth Nuin Giliath, the Feast of the Stars,” she explained. “Our most important holiday. Tonight, we honor our victory over Egeldor and the founding of Sallitia. Legend says the stars shone brighter that night than ever before or since.”

Sebastian tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “I always thought starlight was cold and distant.”

“No.” Faelyn said softly, her voice carrying the weight of centuries-old reverence. “It’s beautiful. Pure, like a memory that cannot fade.”

“And memories are all that will remain of you.” a voice interrupted, cold and sharp.

Faelyn and Sebastian spun around to see Alvanar stepping from the shadows, his bow raised and his arrow pointed on Sebastian.