The sun hung high over the bustling streets as a newspaper seller weaved through the crowd, waving fresh copies in the air.
"Breaking news! Tensions rise between the Velmoryn and Neidori Clans! Resources withheld! The kingdom watches closely!" he shouted, grabbing the attention of merchants, passersby, and travelers alike.
People gathered around him, coins clinking as they bought copies. Murmurs filled the air.
The moment the news spread through the market, a ripple of tension swept across the Velmoryn stalls like a sudden gust of wind.
A blacksmith paused mid-hammer, his brow furrowing as he overheard the crier. "Again? They're choking us slowly," he muttered, wiping his sooty hands on his apron. His apprentice looked up, eyes wide with concern.
A group of merchants huddled together, whispering in hushed tones. "If this keeps up, we'll have to import from outside the kingdom—and at thrice the cost."
A woman selling carved chairs folded her arms, staring toward the horizon. "If they think the Velmoryn will bow to pressure, they've forgotten who carved the throne the king sits on."
"Those Neidori rats are playing politics again. I knew this was coming."
"Let them keep their stones. We'll find other ways—Velmoryn always does."
"My cousin's order is already delayed. Now what am I supposed to tell him?"
"Dry mines? Lies. They're stockpiling
"They want a trade war? Then let's give them one."
"We built this kingdom's foundations. They forget that."
"This isn't about resources. It's about control"
"Hah, typical Neidori greed. Always taking, now withholding."
"Watch—next they'll claim their rivers ran dry too."
"If this continues, what will become of trade?" another worried voice asked.
Tension buzzed through the marketplace like a struck chord—sharp, lingering, and full of unspoken warning.
Among the chattering crowd, Zehron walked past, unfazed. He had no interest in politics, yet he couldn't ignore how the conflict might affect his own clan.
Velmoryn had always relied on Neidori's mined resources—precious metals, stone, and minerals essential for crafting their famed furniture and structures. But lately, Neidori had drastically reduced their supply, claiming their mines were running dry.
Some whispered that Neidori was hoarding resources, preparing for something unknown. Others believed they had struck a new, secret deal with another power. Whatever the case, Velmoryn was not willing to accept their excuse so easily.
As Zehron took a stroll through the bustling streets, his gaze unexpectedly fell upon Elvienne standing at a jewelry stall. She was smiling softly, holding up a pair of delicate earrings against the sunlight, tilting her head slightly as she admired their shimmer. One after another, she tried different earrings and necklaces, each reflecting her graceful beauty.
Then, something caught her eye—a bracelet unlike any other. It was a simple yet exquisite piece, adorned with small, light green gemstones, known as Elythian Crystals—believed to carry blessings and luck to those who wore them. The bracelet's design was elegant yet infinite, its circular shape unbroken, symbolizing endless fortune.
"How much for this?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
The seller named the price—350 Vaels, a sum not easily spent. She bought the earings and a small chain along with the bracelet she had an eye on, holding it in her palm as if it were something precious.
Hidden behind a nearby stall, Zehron watched her silently. His soft green eyes flickered as he observed the way her fingers traced over the gemstones, a soft, almost longing expression on her face. She had set aside the other jewelry, choosing only this simple yet mystic piece, a clear sign of her deep admiration for it.
For the first time, he found himself watching someone for longer than necessary.
Lost in his observation, Zehron was oblivious to his surroundings. That was until—
Thud!
A man in a hurry crashed into him, jolting him back to reality.
"Watch where you're going, you—!" The man turned, his face twisted in irritation, only to pause for a brief moment as he took in Zehron's composed, unwavering gaze.
Zehron, unbothered by the man's outburst, simply inclined his head and said, "Apologies." His voice was calm, neither defensive nor fearful.
The unexpected response left the man momentarily stunned. Expecting either a confrontation or a cowering excuse, he instead received an apology delivered with absolute indifference. He scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and stormed off.
Meanwhile, Elvienne, having noticed the interaction, instinctively hid the bracelet in the folds of her sleeve. Her heart pounded—not from fear, but from something else entirely. She stepped forward, her face carrying a light blush.
"You again," she said, her tone carrying a hint of amusement.
Zehron turned to her, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Yes."
Sylus would have laughed at the sheer lack of enthusiasm in his response, but he wasn't there.
Elvienne bit her lip, suppressing a chuckle. "You're not very talkative, are you?"
Zehron remained silent for a beat before answering, "No."
She smiled, shaking her head. This man was truly something.
Meanwhile, the man who had bumped into Zehron gave them a side-eye glance before deciding he had better things to do than stand around watching an awkward yet oddly intriguing conversation unfold.
Elvienne chuckles softly,"I see. Then, what brings you here?"
" Just passing by."
Elvienne nods slightly, " I should have expected that. You don't seem like the type to wander aimlessly."
" …I don't."
Elvienne pauses for a moment, then her eyes light up as she remembers something, "Zehron… are you going to attend the Celestara Festival?"
Zehron glances at her, confused, " The Celestara festival?"
" Yes. Surely you know about it? The legend of Ithren and Vayenne—two lovers who overcame countless trials and defied fate were finally united under the blessing of the Everveil Tree. It is said that those who stand beneath its branches on the festival night and share a kiss will be blessed with eternal love. her voice is soft, almost wistful".
Zehron just stays silent …
Elvienne tilts her head slightly, "Don't tell me… you've never attended?"
Zehron looks away, " …I haven't."
Elvienne smiles, her eyes twinkling, " Then, perhaps this year will be your first."
Zehron glances away, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, "…I don't have a lover."
Elvienne lets out a soft, amused hum, "Oh? You needn't have one to attend, you know. The festival is not solely for lovers—it is a grand celebration, filled with music, lights, and the most breathtaking sights. pauses, then adds with a teasing tilt Even someone as… indifferent as you may find it enjoyable."
Zehron keeps his expression neutral, though the blush lingers
Elvienne her smile turns slightly playful I do not have a lover either. tilts her head, studying him with curiosity So tell me, Zehron… would you care to be one, just for that night?" her tone is light, teasing, yet beneath it lies something softer, almost expectant
Zehron stiffens slightly, his ears tinging red, but he quickly schools his expression back to its usual unreadable state," …You jest."
Elvienne laughs softly, covering her lips with delicate fingers, "Do I?" Or perhaps I am simply making a most reasonable proposal. It is, after all, the spirit of the festival. her gaze lingers on him, her amusement hiding something deeper
Zehron straightens, his face unreadable once more, "…I should go."
Without another word, he turns and strides away.
Elvienne watches him go, a playful glint in her eyes before she cups her hands around her mouth and calls out, "I shall be waiting for you that night, Zehron!
I shall come to your house in the morning, be ready."
He halts mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly. He slowly turns his head back, his expression still impassive, but the faintest hint of fluster betrays him. "I didn't say yes."
Elvienne tilts her head, feigning innocence, "Hm? What was that?"
cups her ear with a hand " I don't seem to hear anything, Zehron." giggles " Well then, I shall take my leave!" With that, she twirls gracefully and walks away, her laughter light and airy.
Zehron stands there for a moment longer, exhaling quietly before running a hand through his hair and muttering under his breath …"Troublesome."
But despite his words, a small, almost imperceptible smile lingers at the corner of his lips as he finally resumes walking.
Zehron throws himself onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. He raises a hand to his forehead, exhaling as flashes of his conversation with Elvienne replay in his mind—the teasing glint in her eyes, her graceful chuckle, her parting words.
"I shall be waiting for you that night, Zehron!"
His eyes widen slightly as realization hits him.
Zehron bolts upright, running a hand through his hair with a deep frown
"Now what? What am I supposed to do? " groans
After a long moment of internal struggle, he drags himself up and heads to the main room where his mother is arranging herbs in small pouches. She looks up with a warm smile, but her expression quickly shifts to suspicion as she notices his unusual hesitation.
Zehron's Mother, Naevira raising a brow, "What is it? Did you get into a fight? Did you break something? gasps dramatically Did you finally get a job?!"
Zehron deadpan, " …No."
Naevira clicks her tongue, "Tch. Should've known that last one was too much to hope for."
Zehron, voice low but steady.
"I'll be at the Celestara Festival in few days."
His mother looked up from the hearth, surprised. "Oh? You usually avoid crowds."
He gave a small nod, almost indifferent.
"Just for a while. Thought I'd… see it for myself."
A pause.
"Pass the time."
She studied him for a moment, a knowing smile playing on her lips, but he had already turned away—composed, unreadable.
The night before the Celestara Festival, the sky hung heavy with the glow of countless stars. Inside their modest home, the scent of burning wood filled the air as Zehron helped his father with a wooden frame, steadying the structure as his father hammered in a joint. The rhythmic thuds of the hammer echoed in the quiet night, but there was an unspoken tension between them. Finally, his father set the hammer down and looked at Zehron with a measured gaze.
Zehron's Father, Vaedros calmly says, "So… you're going to the festival tomorrow.
Zehron pauses, glancing at him, "…I suppose."
Vaedros nods, rubbing his calloused hands together It's a good thing. It's nice that you've found someone.
Zehron quickly, "It's not like that. Although the festival is mainly for lovers, I'll be going... A sudden pause... a friend! Just a FRIEND.
Vaedros gives a small smirk, "Is that so? Your mother seems to have different thoughts though".
Zehron confused, " what thoughts?"
Vaedros trying not to be dramatic, " you know, well thoughts like daughter in law, grandchildren and stuff." Then chuckles teasingly.
" No, that won't happen!" Zehron Says firmly
"My, your mother would sulk for days if she heard you say that, she's already dreaming about what games to play in the future, haha."
And just like that they bickered for hours.
As morning light bathed the festival grounds, Zehron arrived, drawing countless gazes the moment he stepped in. His beauty, ethereal under the soft glow of the sun left many awestruck. Whispers spread among the crowd—many admired him in quiet longing.
They set off together, weaving through the lively streets. They explored the festival, stopping at stalls to admire finely crafted Vaelstone ornaments and delicately embroidered Astren shawls. They shared plates of sweetened Sylri petals and crisp Nerien wafers, their laughter blending with the cheerful hum of the crowd.
Elvienne's joy was radiant, she laughed freely, her excitement evident in the way she eagerly pulled Zehron from one attraction to the next. Zehron, though reserved, found himself smiling more than he had in a long time. For once, he let himself enjoy the moment.
As the day melted into twilight, the festival's true essence began to unfold. The grand Everveil Tree loomed in the distance, its ancient branches shimmering under the rising moon. The moment of the legend's reenactment approached, filling the air with quiet anticipation.