The Forest of Whispering Stones could wait. At least, that's what I thought—until a new and elaborately crafted invitation, this time engraved on a sheet of silver, appeared over our table at the tavern, floating gently before landing beside the dreaded ebony box.
"Your Presence Is Requested," it read in flowing letters. "By the High Lords of the Elven City of Lythanis, for the Festival of the Silver Moon, in honor of the (newly formed and somewhat accidental) bonds between our people and the… courageous adventurers of Vaelor. Your participation is expected in ceremonies, banquets, and traditional dances. Attire: Forest Etiquette (nothing transparent, please)."
I looked at the invitation, then at the group. "They invited us? After we basically destroyed their plaza?"
"They mentioned the 'accidental' bonds," Elara read, a bit offended. "And the 'please' about the clothes was a passive-aggressive touch."
"A festival!" Vespera shouted, jumping from her chair. "Food! Dancing! And I can wear my new dress!"
"You have a dress?" I asked, surprised.
"It's… tactical. With slits for movement."
Liriel examined the invitation with disdain. "Elven festivals. Hours of poetry about the beauty of a leaf, dances requiring millimetric precision, and wine that tastes more like tree-flavored water than anything worthy of a divine palate." She paused dramatically. "But… Princess Lyra will be there, won't she?"
We all looked at her. She didn't hide her interest very well.
"Why does that matter?" I asked, suspicious.
"Mortal curiosity," she answered too quickly. "I just wonder how elven royalty deals with… influential figures."
I knew it was more than that. Since the incident at the palace, that unspoken flirtation with Lyra and the constant romantic tension with Elara and Vespera had created an emotional minefield. Liriel, no matter how much she denied it, was tangled up in that silent competition.
The prospect of a festival was better than that of a murderous forest. And frankly, after the amulet ordeal, I needed a night of relative normality—or as close to it as we ever got.
The elven city of Lythanis was even more dazzling under the light of the silver moon. Fairy lights danced on decorative spiderwebs, and the air was heavy with the scent of night-blooming flowers and something that smelled like watermelon and magic. Elves dressed in flowing, elegant garments danced in intricate patterns, their movements graceful and precise.
We were a tractor in a field of daisies.
We were greeted by Princess Lyra herself, radiating enough enthusiasm to power a small city.
"Takumi! You came!" she exclaimed, grabbing my hand before I could hide behind Vespera. "And you brought your… companions." Her smile was polite, but her eyes flicked quickly over Elara, Vespera, and Liriel, assessing.
"Yes, we… are here," I said, unable to think of anything smarter.
"Wonderful! You must take part in the Dance of the Flows! It's a tradition where pairs must move in harmony with the energies of the forest!"
It sounded complicated. It sounded like a disaster.
"Of course he'll dance," Liriel cut in, her smile as sharp as a blade. "We'll all dance. Isn't that right, Takumi?"
I felt sweat trickle down my neck.
The Dance of the Flows was as bad as I feared. It involved passing a shimmering sphere of light from one pair to another, moving in complex circular patterns. One mistake and the sphere would fade—a sign of poor synchronization and eternal disgrace. Or something like that.
Lyra pulled me onto the dance floor. "It's easy," she whispered, her eyes gleaming. "Just feel my energy and follow my flow."
I tried. I really did. But my boots felt like they were made of lead, and elven grace was definitely not in my DNA. The sphere of light flickered dangerously in my hands.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liriel dancing with a tall, serious-looking elf who seemed bored. She was naturally graceful, but every movement she made was calculated—a challenge thrown at Lyra. When the sphere reached her, she handled it with unnecessary flourish, making it glow brilliantly before passing it along.
Vespera, looking like a kitten trapped in a maze, tried to kick the sphere toward her partner. It went out. Her elven partner sighed deeply.
Elara, appearing as though she might faint at any moment, managed to keep the sphere lit for a few seconds before tripping over her own robe and nearly knocking over a servant carrying a tray of mead glasses. The sphere died with a puff.
The tension on the dance floor was palpable. Lyra, determined to guide me, moved closer and closer, her motions becoming almost possessive. Liriel, seeing this, began executing increasingly complex and showy steps, stealing the audience's attention.
That's when the sphere reached me again. Lyra was on one side, Liriel approached from the other with a smile that screamed "an accident about to happen." I froze in the middle.
"Takumi, to me!" Lyra instructed.
"A mortal must learn to share, Princess," Liriel said, her voice sweet as venom.
In my panic, I let the sphere slip from my fingers. It bounced on the floor, flickered erratically, and then… split in two. One flew toward Lyra, the other toward Liriel.
Both caught their respective spheres in a single fluid motion, their eyes meeting over my head. The energy between them was so intense I half expected to see sparks.
The music stopped. Silence fell over the plaza. No one had ever seen the Dance of the Flows… bifurcate.
Then, the two spheres in Lyra's and Liriel's hands began to glow in different colors—Lyra's in pure silver, Liriel's in divine gold. They didn't fade. They defied tradition.
An elven elder, long-bearded and wise-eyed, stood up. "An omen!" he declared, his voice trembling. "Duality! The mortal brought not discord, but… choice! The flow divided, yet did not break!"
The silence was shattered by excited murmurs. We had, unintentionally, created a new cultural precedent.
Lyra and Liriel lowered their spheres, looking at each other with a new expression—not pure rivalry anymore, but resigned recognition. They were opposing forces, and I was the unstable point of balance between them.
The night ended with us being presented with silver flower garlands—a symbol of "accidental honor," they said—and a bill from the High Lord for "unauthorized modification of ancestral ritual."
As we left the elven city, the night air felt cooler. Elara walked beside me, quiet.
"That was… intense," she finally said.
"It was a disaster," I corrected.
"Yes. But it was a disaster where you didn't end up covered in slime or owing a fortune for property damage." She gave a small laugh. "That's progress."
Vespera was already asleep on Liriel's shoulder, whom she carried with an oddly maternal expression.
"At least the amulet behaved," I commented, feeling the weight of the ebony box in my backpack.
Liriel looked up at the moon. "It's quiet because it's where it wants to be. At the center of the storm." She glanced at me. "The Forest of Whispering Stones is our next destination. The festival was merely… an interlude."
I knew she was right. But that night, surrounded by the lingering echoes of the festival and the unresolved complexities of my own heart, the deadly forest almost sounded like a refuge. At least there, the dangers were simple and direct.