"Why did you do that, Aethera?" a young woman, pure as driven snow, with eyes as blue as a cloudless summer sky, asked, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and hurt.
She wore a simple yet elegant white gown, its delicate lace and intricate embroidery a testament to the skillful hands that had crafted it, and a slender silver circlet adorned her brow, holding back a tumble of golden hair that cascaded down her back like a river of sunset hues.
"Did what? Mahina?" Aetheria, a young woman with skin as luminous as moonlight and hair as dark as the night sky, her eyes gleaming with a soft, ethereal light, replied, a hint of gentle curiosity in her voice, as she paused in her gentle strumming of the lyre that rested in her lap.
