When she reappeared, Eryndor and Lyrisa looked up, relief washing over their faces.
"What took you so long?" Eryndor asked, half-joking but with a hint of genuine concern.
Iris smiled, brushing off some dirt from her cloak. "Another team asked for a favor, so I popped over to help them," she said playfully. "But don’t worry. It’s done. The place looks good—ashes, a few structures still standing, and the remnants of an elven village destroyed by a dwarven attack. I even gathered a few bodies from the last battlefield Lord Zero fought on and scattered them around the village before burning them. Then, I used wind magic to make the scent of the dead faint, so it seems like the battle happened recently but not today. Our cover should be solid."
Lyrisa sighed in relief. "Good. Now comes the hard part—what to do about these elves wanting to set us up with their heirs."
Eryndor smirked. "Honestly, I don’t see the problem. If they want us to marry their kids and give birth to some new generation, why not? It gives us status and authority within their society. We could use that to further our mission."
Lyrisa nodded in agreement. "We haven’t split ourselves like the other nymphs. Maybe it’s time to see what happens when we procreate with mortal elves from this world. By the time we’d give birth, the mission will be complete, and we can decide whether to leave the children here or take them back to Nova’s divine world, Esme."
Iris raised an eyebrow, considering the idea. "So, we play along with their little matchmaking game, rise in their ranks, and continue our mission. Then, when it's done, we decide what to do with our offspring." She smirked. "Sounds like a plan."
As they waited for the verification the next two days passed in a lazy silence. The three forest nymphs disguised as elves, Iris, Eryndor, and Lyrisa, had spent their time in the detainment cell, exchanging quiet conversations and preparing for what was to come. When the day arrived, they were escorted back into the grand trial room, a space so opulent it almost seemed to glow with the magic imbued into its very stone and wood. The carvings of ancient elven victories, the shimmer of enchanted chandeliers, and the tapestries depicting Silvanthorn in all its glory only added to the grandeur.
The council members sat upon their thrones, their faces masks of solemnity. Legolas of Aranthilis, who sat in the center, rose to speak. His eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over the trio before he began. “We have received word from our scouting party. Your story checks out,” he said, the words clipped and formal. “We regret our failure to rescue your village and the subsequent imprisonment you endured here. To amend this, and to honor your potential, each of you will be given the opportunity to marry the heir of one of the five noble families.”
The room stirred, whispers from the onlookers rippling through the hall. Iris, Eryndor, and Lyrisa exchanged subtle glances. They knew this was no apology but a carefully orchestrated move to integrate them into the elven society for one purpose: to strengthen the dwindling bloodlines of the noble families.
Legolas clapped his hands, and the heavy wooden doors at the far end of the room opened. Three young elven men entered, their presence commanding attention.
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The first was Eldrin of Aranthilis, tall and regal with striking golden hair that fell in waves down his back. His emerald eyes gleamed with pride, and a smirk played on his lips as if he found the entire proceeding beneath him. His robes were a deep blue, embroidered with silver runes that signified his mastery of enchantment magic. He walked with the confidence of one who had never known failure, his chin lifted slightly, giving him an air of arrogance. He was clearly a man who believed himself superior to those around him.
The second was Aolis of Thranduil, the illusionist heir. He was slender, almost ethereal, with jet-black hair that framed his pale face and fell messily into his violet eyes. He stood awkwardly, as if being in the room was painful, and he avoided direct eye contact. Aolis's expression was distant, his brows slightly furrowed as though lost in a world only he could see. He wore robes of dark green and silver, subtle and shadowy, matching the reserved aura he exuded. He took a small step back, avoiding the gazes of the council and the trio, as if retreating into himself.
The last was Aelar of Galadrieth, the youngest among them. His auburn hair was cut short, with a few unruly strands that refused to stay down, giving him a boyish look. His eyes were warm and golden, filled with mischief and wonder. He wore robes of earthy brown and forest green, adorned with floral patterns that seemed to move ever so slightly as he shifted. Aelar’s smile was broad and genuine, lighting up his entire face. He walked in with a spring in his step, his excitement palpable. As he reached the center of the room, he looked at the trio with unabashed curiosity and happiness, like a child presented with a new adventure.
The council members waited for the murmurs in the room to die down before Lirelle of Seladrial spoke. “You may choose which of the noble heirs you find most favorable. ,” she announced. Her gaze lingered on the trio, an unspoken challenge to play their roles well.
Iris stepped forward first, her heart steady. She had already considered her choice, knowing it would be strategic. She met Eldrin’s eyes, unfazed by the way he looked down his nose at her, and nodded. “I choose Eldrin of Aranthilis,” she said, her voice calm and unwavering.
Eldrin snorted in disdain, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I see you have good taste,” he muttered, half to himself, as if the choice were obvious.
Eryndor was next. She approached Aelar, who greeted her with an open smile. He reached out and took her hands, a warmth radiating from him that surprised her. “You’re even more beautiful up close!” he said, his voice ringing with genuine delight. Eryndor couldn’t help but smile back, caught off guard by his openness.
“I choose Aelar of Galadrieth,” she announced, and Aelar’s smile widened, his fingers squeezing hers lightly in welcome.
Finally, Lyrisa turned to Aolis, who averted his gaze and took another small step back. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his robe, and a slight flush crept up his neck. Lyrisa stepped closer, careful to make her movements soft and non-threatening. “I choose Aolis of Thranduil,” she said gently. His eyes flickered up to meet hers for a brief moment before looking away, but he nodded almost imperceptibly.
The council members representing the families of the chosen heirs stood up, their expressions a blend of relief and satisfaction. Legolas spoke again, his voice carrying a note of triumph. “The bonds that will be forged through these unions will strengthen our elven people and renew our hope for the future. We welcome you into our households and trust that you will adjust soon.”
Lirelle offered a smile that did not reach her eyes. “May your integration bring prosperity and strength to Eldrilia.”
Neriaeth and Elara exchanged subtle nods, acknowledging that this was a necessary move to preserve their society’s dwindling power. The room, which had been filled with tension only moments before, now buzzed with the anticipation of change.
Iris, Eryndor, and Lyrisa bowed, concealing their true emotions behind practiced expressions. The mission had taken an unexpected turn, but they would adapt, as they always did. They knew that gaining the status of noble wives would grant them unprecedented access to the council and their secrets. It was a rare opportunity, and they would use it to their advantage.
As the formalities concluded, Aelar leaned closer to Eryndor, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I hope you like flowers,” he whispered playfully, pointing to the intricate floral designs on his robes. Eryndor chuckled, already feeling a strange connection with the young heir.
Aolis glanced at Lyrisa briefly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Lyrisa smiled softly, acknowledging his silent struggle, and took the first step to bridge the gap between them.
Eldrin, on the other hand, kept his gaze fixed ahead, already planning his next move, confident that Iris would fall in line with his expectations.
The game was set, the pieces moving into place. The mission would continue, now deeper and more intricate than ever before.