In the scorching desert, a figure seemed to be gliding through the arid landscape with astonishing speed. Each stride they took seemed to cut through the air, leaving a trail of dust in their wake.

Sylphrym ran on, swift as a desert gust. Every step of his was like a strike of lightning, propelling him forward with astonishing velocity. The wind pushed him forward with the might of a raging gale, the sand beneath his feet barely touching the ground.

As his surroundings seemed to blur, melding rocks and sand together, Sylphrym took advantage of the opportunity, "deceived" himself, and returned to reality.

Upon opening his eyes, Sylphrym’s gaze fell upon the familiar forest. With a breeze ruffling his hair, he did not hesitate any further and started to jog towards Arboima. The wind, although gentle and not as fierce as before, carried with it unmistakable intent.

With each step he took, it guided him onward. The wind alerted him to the rough terrain ahead and conjured gales that blew at his back, hurling him forward.

Sylphrym leaned sideways, avoiding an incoming branch.

While running, he pondered: which poem should he use? In the past, he had created some, but they were... unfitting, to say the least, especially during a festive occasion.

Of course, there were some poems he knew that would work. Those pieces might even win him the competition. But… to act as if those were his… No. That wasn’t happening.

So, what options remained? Sylphrym wondered if he should abstain from entering the competition altogether. It might disappoint his family, but that would be the extent of it.

How about changing... no, adjusting some poem he knew?

“Who am I fooling? Guess I won’t participate.”

On another note, how was Kaelion doing? It had already been over a year since he last saw him. Was he well? Did he find what he was looking for? He had high hopes for Auroheim.

He probably had. Considering his personality, he wouldn’t dare to show his face without it. Although Sylphrym felt joy at the prospect of seeing him again, a tinge of sadness crept into his heart. He wanted to impress Kaelion with a poem, but it wasn’t worth it.

Did… did he… Look into the Lost Voyage?

Sensing the wind altering its course, Sylphrym accepted its guidance, deftly navigating around several rocks before ascending a gentle slope atop a low hill.

Pausing briefly to regain his bearings, Sylphrym’s sight fell upon a tiger. It had golden fur adorned with dark stripes that blended seamlessly with the sunlight filtering through the overhead canopy.

With his contemplation halted, Sylphrym stopped letting his mind wander.

Understanding that he had disturbed the tiger’s rest, he didn’t delay any further and continued his advance.

Curiously, it made no attempt to pursue him. It simply watched, seemingly at peace with his existence.

~~~

As the trees appeared to part ways, Sylphrym at last reached a clearing. Here, he could clearly see how Arboima stood tall and firm.

Its colossal trunk, gnarled and weathered, seemed to stretch from the very ground beneath the Woodlands, as if coming from the underworld itself. Adorned in shades of black and white, it rose up and up through the world of the living, all the way towards the heavens themselves.

Its branches, pale as moonlight, extended outwards like outstretched hands of spirits. The silvery tendrils grew in every imaginable direction, casting a celestial glow. Grayish-white foliage cascaded from the branches, forming a canopy that shimmered with ethereal luminescence. The leaves embellished Arboima, forming a delicate crown.

Each leaf, as if spun from stardust, bore a striking contrast of black, white, and gray. Some were ebony as the night sky, while others shimmered with a pearly white radiance.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Surprised, Sylphrym turned his head in the direction the voice came from. Who was it?

There, in the clearing, stood a small building. It was supported by slender, intricately carved columns and adorned with delicate, trailing vines that entwined themselves around the structure.

Stone pathways meandered through the surrounding landscape, guiding Sylphrym's gaze towards a wooden porch.

Before him stood an elven woman, her countenance both serene and wise. Her eyes held a glimmer of mischief, curious as to how he’d respond.

Her silver-white hair gracefully flowed down her back, the sole testament to the passage of time upon her. She sat on an expertly made rocking chair, sculpted in exquisite patterns of leaves and flowers.

"Pray tell? For time waits not! The years advance, and so do I!"

Oh, it was Solyn. Her presence took him aback—doesn’t she intend on participating?

"It... it is," he replied hesitantly. Awkwardly smiling, he continued, "The colors are so... otherworldly."

Deep down, although he knew they wouldn't hear of it, the tree was too mystical, too fantastical. It had unnatural height, freakish tones, ghostly leaves, weird branches... Everything about it was strange, excessively so.

Sylphrym allowed himself to drift momentarily, taking his thoughts to the next level.

The island itself was too magical, and that fact extended to every facet of its existence. From the grass that was too soft and supple to the flowers that radiated hues so vivid they bordered on ethereal. The creatures within were friendly to elves, and the trees themselves wandered about. This place was too picturesque, artificially so. It was as if it was plucked from a children's tale.

In the brief silence that followed, he let his true thoughts show. "Trees should be green and brown, not black and white..."

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Appearing a little tired, Solyn quietly responded: “Thou art aware… magic beareth no great harm.”

Looking straight into his eyes, she went on, “I comprehend the essence of thy perspective. Verily, those colors resemble naught but fragments from the realm of dreams. Yet, it is undeniable that it is the art of magic. Thou shouldst not harbor such staunch resistance against it. It stands as a testament to the achievements of our ancestors. Forsooth, everbloom was never intended to endure for countless centuries.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Unwilling to continue with this topic, Sylphrym racked his brains for a way out. What could he say? Perhaps he could speak of how it was odd that she was still here? The festival was about to begin.

"Are you not planning to attend the festival? It must feel lonesome being out here by yourself while everyone will enjoy the celebrations."

Solyn knew that she shouldn’t force it. "Nay, I have beheld it countless times. Such revelries are intended for you youngsters to partake in. Venturing thither would serve as a reminder of the extent to which I have aged!"

"Are you certain? I've been informed that the emissary from Navaros has been granted permission to observe. Wouldn't it be prudent to ensure everything is in order?"

Her eyebrows rose, expressing her intense surprise. "Hah! To envision the old wretch permitting a non-elf to witness the hallowed rite, his mind must indeed be lost. Nay, my station dwelleth not there. Should aught arise, I hold faith that Aurirym can attend to it."

“Alright. You truly are convinced. Even still, it just seems a bit sad, sitting out here alone during a festival. Wouldn't you prefer to be with your family during such an occasion?"

Her gaze momentarily shifted to a sorrowful expression before she scrunched up her face. “They… forget it, you impish rascal! Worry not about an aged soul such as I. Or perchance thou wishest for my presence there? Art thou planning to recite a verse, perchance?"

The wind grew increasingly restless, pressing against Sylphrym. "No, I have no plans of doing so. Speaking of which, I should probably head out."

"Do inform me, why art thou in such haste? Methinks thou hast beseeched the wind for aid, fearing thou may not arrive in a timely fashion?"

Sylphrym couldn’t conceal his astonishment at her words. He knew that almost every elf could see magic and how it affected the world, but to perceive the blessings of the wind itself! It wasn’t even Solyn’s main forte!

On second thought… The wind wasn’t hiding itself either. It might be possible that she simply observed how the wind continued to push at him, hurrying him towards Aeloria’s Glade.

Admittedly, he harbored some concern over Aurirym's potential reaction. Having limited knowledge about his character, it seemed prudent not to provoke the Warden of the Forest. Moreover, his family would undoubtedly be anxious if he failed to make it in time.

Still a little embarrassed and shocked, Sylphrym did not manage to reply before she spoke again.

"Worry not, the ancient curmudgeon would not take offense. And should he dare to do so..." A wicked smile rose upon her lips. "Let it be known that once I am finished, not even Lady Miracle herself could salvage him."

Observing her silly smile, Sylphrym couldn’t help but laugh with a little shyness. “Heh, I’ll count on you then.”

“Aye! That’s the spirit!” Solyn threw her head back and laughed, a slight twinkle appearing within her eyes, accompanied by a hint of a genuine smile.

“Should thou shift thine stance regarding the poem, I would be pleased if thou wouldst grace me with its recitation.”

Taking a short pause, she carried on, "Now, though I would delight in thy company, I am certain thou dost yearn to reunite with thine kin. And shouldst thou not have observed, thy current stride shan't lead thee to Aeloria's Glade within the desired time frame. Though the wind doth strive to assist, a modest favor can only achieve so much. Indeed, this realm is not the Astral World."

Before Sylphrym could comprehend what she had just said, Solyn waved her hand, and suddenly, winds surged against him. Much more powerful than the mere gust that propelled him, he was now pushed with an unstoppable force, amplifying his strides and carrying him swiftly towards his destination.

“Doth not trouble with resistance, immerse thyself in the revelry!”

~~~

Sylphrym knew he had arrived when he saw Aeloria’s statue. The place was already bustling, full of people.

The earth beneath his feet was full of wildflowers, painting the land in a lively tapestry of color. Delicate petals swayed and pirouetted in harmony with the gentle breeze, as if engaged in a dance. A radiant golden glow enveloped the festival grounds, casting light upon the tables adorned with bountiful offerings.

Were those... berries? Nestled within stone bowls, there appeared to be strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries. Interspersed among them were also stone fruits, such as peaches, plums, and apricots.

Sylphrym wondered whether those fruits even matched the season. He had heard that the council was insistent on switching the offerings each time around.

Amidst the scene, he pondered, would it be ill-mannered to take some? The cornucopia, full of freshly grilled golden corn, called out to him. Its sweet aroma mingled with the scent of picked herbs, adding a touch of summer freshness. Watermelons and cantaloupes also garnished the table, seemingly ripe and full of juice.

Entranced by the offerings on display, Sylphrym's eyes were drawn to the elegant presence of sunflowers. Standing tall in plain vases, their faces turned towards the sun, mirroring the spirit of the season. Complementing this sight were an array of blossoms in varying shades of orange and yellow.

Carefully maneuvering through the crowd, Sylphrym skillfully moved, avoiding any accidental collisions.

Disregarding the various flower arrangements, Sylphrym watched from afar. Where was his family?

Looking upwards, a mesmerizing sight awaited him. Lanterns suspended from rustic poles and intertwined with vines were now being ignited one by one, casting a soft, enchanting light that danced upon the tables.

Puzzled by the presence of cages housing various animals, Sylphrym cautiously distanced himself from them. His attention then shifted to a grand wooden platform. Five intricately carved seats sat upon it, arranged in a semicircle.

“Maybe they’ve decided not to come.”

Sylphrym laughed to himself.

“Never mind…”

Adjacent to a stand adorned with fluttering butterflies and sparkling fireflies, Sylphrym sought out his family. In that moment, his eyes locked with his mother, Celestelin, who beamed with delight, her eyes widening with joy as she greeted him with a warm and heartfelt smile.

“When Dianthirin spoke of thy impending arrival, I deemed it a jest! Come here!”

With lustrous black hair elegantly braided and a fair, almost pallid complexion, his mother exuded a refined aura. Clad in a flowing blue dress, she gave off the feeling of tranquil azure skies. Though petite in stature, her radiant smile possessed an enchanting power, making her presence all the more compelling. With arms outstretched, she beckoned Sylphrym to come forward.

After a moment of hesitation, he approached. Casting his gaze around, he failed to spot Sorithym amidst the gathering. That old fogey was likely occupied with the other council members.

As Sylphrym was wrapped up in her gentle embrace, he saw his father, Eryndym, join in. Jokingly, he spoke, "Observe, he approacheth, the man who claims the throne!"

Sylphrym, accustomed to his father's playful nature, retorted, "I hereby declare my absolute lack of interest in any kind of royal seating arrangements!"

Eryndym had black hair. His eyes, too, were—

"Behold! Let it be known that Captain Kaelion, the esteemed envoy from Navaros, graces us with his presence!"

With no further regard for his family, Sylphrym scanned the surroundings and laid eyes upon the person who could truly be called his one and only friend.

The Dragonborn emissary strode confidently, his scales shimmering in the light from above. He was dressed in a tunic made from luxurious silks, tailored to fit his broad shoulders and powerful wings. It was adorned with intricate embroidery in shades of gold and silver, accentuating the curves of his muscular form.

Gracefully draping around his neck, a resplendent gold chain embraced him, its centerpiece fashioned into an anchor intricately molded into the form of a dragon.

As he approached the seats of the elven council, the Dragonborn emissary's wings spread out majestically.

In an instant, a figure materialized in the centermost seat, capturing everyone's attention. It was as if Aurirym had emerged from the shadows. With a resounding voice that echoed through the air, he proclaimed:

“Lo, let the grand festival commence!”