The morning sun filtered through the canopy of Elderglade, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Lilia stood at the edge of a clearing, her keen elven eyes scanning the area. A flash of silver caught her attention, and she raised her hand in greeting.
Across the glade, an elf of impressive stature moved with fluid grace, each step a testament to centuries of martial training. His long, silver hair cascaded over broad shoulders, catching the light with each movement. As Lilia's call reached him, he paused, turning his head slowly towards her.
Halodor's lips curved into a smile, his deep violet eyes shimmering like amethysts under the morning sky. He raised his hand in return, the gesture both regal and familiar.
"Hal!" Lilia called out, her voice bright. "Where are you—"
Her question was cut short as a blur of motion crashed into her. Lilia found herself sprawled on the ground, a giggling elven child perched atop her. Before she could react, more children swarmed around, their laughter filling the air as they turned her into an impromptu playground.
Halodor's rich, full-bodied laughter rolled across the clearing. "I'm off to see Amanda," Halodor said. “Before tomorrow’s proclamation.” The words were almost carried by the wind masked by the children's laughter.
By the time Lilia managed to wrangle one of the children into a playful headlock, Halodor had vanished from sight. She sat up, absentmindedly rubbing her knuckles against the captured child's scalp as she scanned the treeline. Behind her, she noticed that a group of elven elders stood in quiet conversation, their heads bowed together as if exchanging something secret, their gazes flicking up toward the horizon where the castle stood tall.
“Where did Hal go?” she murmured, a sudden heaviness settling over her chest as his figure vanished into the shadows of the forest.
A young elf girl, her eyes wide with innocence, piped up. "He said he's going to see Amanda. Are you happy she came back home?"
Lilia's expression flickered for a moment before settling into a smile. "Of course," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "It's wonderful that Amanda has decided to return."
The child tilted her head, her brow furrowing. "Why does Halodor seem so different lately? It’s like he doesn’t smile as much."
Lilia's smile faltered for a heartbeat. She quickly recovered, ruffling the child's hair affectionately. “Becoming king changes a person,” Lilia said softly. “Some burdens reshape us in ways we can't undo.”
The young elf's frown deepened. "But why has he changed so much? Just because he’ll be king doesn’t mean he’s not still Hal, right?"
Lilia stood, brushing off her clothes and smoothing her hair. She glanced around at the clearing again, noticing more subtle cues—the way the elves were quietly but purposefully tending to every detail of the natural arena that surrounded them. A few elves were busy weaving fresh garlands from vines and wildflowers, decorating the towering trees that circled the clearing. Others prepared delicate banners, the colors of the royal crest beginning to take shape among the foliage.
"Children like you should enjoy being children," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Adulthood comes all too quickly, bringing changes we can't always understand or control."
As the children scattered, their laughter echoing through the air, Lilia's eyes were drawn to the magnificent structure that surrounded them. The clearing, she realized, was no ordinary glade but an immense, living stadium carved from the very heart of Elderglade itself. Today, it was vibrant with the playful energy of the children, but tomorrow, it would be filled with the anxious anticipation of the elven people—waiting for the new rulers to be named.
Enormous trees, their trunks wider than a dozen elves standing shoulder to shoulder, formed a perfect circle around a vast expanse of soft, springy moss. Their branches intertwined high above, creating a canopy that filtered the sunlight into a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. Tiered seating had been coaxed from the living wood, spiraling up the trunks in organic curves that could comfortably seat thousands.
The children darted between these natural bleachers, their small forms dwarfed by the sheer scale of the arena. Their giggles bounced off the bark walls, creating a symphony of youthful joy that seemed to make the very leaves quiver in response. As their joyful cries dissipated into the breeze, the silence that followed seemed heavier, as though the forest itself held its breath.
Lilia's gaze returned to the spot where Halodor had vanished, lingering for a moment on the gap between two massive roots that served as an entrance to the stadium. He used to join in, his laughter loudest among theirs. Now, it felt like a distant echo of a memory that was slipping away, just like the Hal she once knew.
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Then, almost unconsciously, her eyes were drawn upward and northward.
There, peeking through the tapestry of branches and leaves, stood the castle—a breathtaking fusion of elven architecture and natural beauty. Its spires and towers seemed to grow from the treetops themselves, their pearlescent walls gleaming in the morning light. Bridges of living wood connected various levels of the castle to the surrounding trees, where houses and buildings nestled among the branches like exotic fruits.
The entire Elderglade territory spread out before her, a vertical city of unparalleled beauty. Elves moved gracefully along the elevated walkways, their forms tiny at this distance but still visible to her keen eyes. The constant movement, the ebb and flow of life among the branches, stood in stark contrast to the weight of change Lilia felt pressing down upon her.
As she stood there, caught between the joyous sounds of playing children and the looming presence of the castle, Lilia couldn't shake the feeling that Elderglade itself was holding its breath, waiting for the proclamation that would shape its future. The whispers of change that had been merely a breeze now felt like a gathering storm, and Lilia found herself wondering what tomorrow would bring for her people, for Amanda, for Halodor—and for herself.
Lilia’s thoughts lingered on Halodor, who had seemed more distant with each passing day. There had been a time when his laughter was easy, but now, it often felt hollow, strained beneath the weight of the crown he had yet to wear. And then there was Amanda. Something between them had shifted, though Halodor hadn’t said a word. Tomorrow's proclamation, she feared, would set in motion forces none of them were fully prepared for.
Halodor's footsteps were nearly silent as he traversed the winding branch pathways, each step as sure and graceful as a cat's. The higher he climbed, the more Elderglade revealed its true marvel. Here, in the upper echelons of the great forest city, the branches had been woven and grown into a vast, floating network—a suspended world teeming with life and magic.
The makeshift ground beneath his feet creaked softly, a gentle reminder of the living nature of this remarkable place. All around him, the air buzzed with activity. Elven merchants called out their wares in musical voices, their stalls a riot of colors and textures. The scent of sizzling meats and exotic spices wafted from food vendors, mingling with the earthier aromas of leather and parchment from nearby shops.
"Fresh moonberries! Picked at the height of the lunar eclipse!" a vendor cried, her silver hair adorned with the iridescent fruit.
"Enchanted arrows, guaranteed to find their mark!" boomed another, demonstrating with a flourish that sent nearby customers ducking for cover.
Halodor weaved through the crowd, his tall frame and regal bearing causing others to instinctively part before him. His eyes, however, remained fixed ahead, barely registering the vibrant world around him. Conversations halted in his wake, and whispers followed him like shadows.
A group of young elves, gathered around a street performer conjuring shimmering butterflies from thin air, fell silent as Halodor passed. Their eyes followed him, filled with a mixture of awe and uncertainty.
"Is that really Hal?" one whispered, her voice barely audible above the market's din. "He seems so... different."
Halodor's ears twitched almost imperceptibly at the comment, but he didn't break his stride.
As he approached the castle, the sunlight filtering through the canopy above caught the intricate necklace adorning his chest. The pendant—a delicate construct of mithril and enchanted gems—seemed to come alive, casting prismatic patterns across his face and chest. For a moment, the light transformed him, softening the hard lines that had settled into his features in recent months.
An older elf, his beard intricately braided with tiny flowers, bowed deeply as Halodor passed. "May the Elven God's blessing be upon you, future king," he intoned solemnly.
Halodor paused, turning to face the elder. A flicker of something darker lingered in his eyes—a shadow of the warmth he once carried, now replaced by the cold, determined mask of leadership. The weight of his role seemed to gnaw at him, but perhaps something more dangerous lay beneath the surface.
"And upon you, elder," he replied, his voice rich and measured. "May your roots grow deep and your branches reach high."
As he resumed his journey toward the looming castle, whispers followed in his wake. The excited chatter of the marketplace seemed to dim, replaced by hushed conversations and furtive glances.
"Tomorrow's proclamation," Halodor heard someone murmur. "Everything will change."
The words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation and a touch of fear. His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, the weight of expectation pressing down upon him like a physical force.
As Halodor neared the towering gates of the castle, the faint smile playing on his lips belied the turbulence within him. His thoughts drifted to Amanda, his intentions wrapping around him like shadows, growing darker with each step. Tomorrow’s proclamation would be the first move—but what came next, even he wasn’t certain.