"We gather beneath Sariel's moon,
Offering our shadows to her gentle glow,
Transforming darkness into guiding light."
— Elven Prayer of Sariel's Embrace

Caelluma, Anderwyn
Eighteenth Year of the Fifteenth Cycle, A.D. 

Four days had passed beneath the hush of towering trees and silver skies, and though the days bled quietly into one another, Raelyn could feel the change.

Hovan was recovering. Slowly, painfully, but each day marked a step further than the last. Elowen, ever watchful, allowed him to stand and walk the length of his cot once or twice, her hands always hovering close but never interfering. Raelyn had watched him clench his jaw in frustration as his legs trembled under his weight. She'd seen him grit through the pain rather than admit to it aloud. It wasn't his strength that struck her most, but the way he refused to let go of his pride. He would heal. She had no doubt.

Training with Corix had grown more focused, more relentless. Each morning, they would return to the secluded grove, and Raelyn would work through her casting until her fingers ached and her medial pulsed with fatigue. The Glyph Bolt remained her greatest challenge yet. Its precision demanded more than power. She struggled for the Glyph Bolt to maintain its shape as it hurtled away from her. But on the third day, after dozens of failed attempts, she finally struck the target. The flash of golden light had flared across the mossy bark, and Corix had muttered, "Well done." It had seemed distant, but Raelyn could see the excitement in his posture.

Caelluma itself seemed to be changing. The elves were not yet warm, but the ice in their hearts had begun to thaw. It had started with the children. They would linger near the grove or the healer's hut, pretending not to stare. Then one brave voice had asked if Rakz was dangerous. Raelyn had knelt beside him and assured them he wasn't. A second voice asked to touch him. By the end of that day, Rakz had a cluster of younglings trailing him.

The adults watched at first, disapproving, then wary. But Raelyn smiled at them anyway. She greeted them without expectation. And slowly, hesitantly, they began to greet her back. Not all. But enough to make her feel like she wasn't a complete outsider.

Hovan sat propped up in his cot, one arm rested along the wooden frame while the other held a steaming bowl. Raelyn sat to his left, legs tucked beneath her, her own bowl balanced on her knees. Corix was across from them, back straight, his cloak folded neatly beside him.

The scent of crushed herbs and warm root broth lingered in the air, blending with the faint sweetness of fruit steeped in spices. A trio of carved wooden bowls sat on the low table nearby, each filled with an artful assortment of sliced fruits, crisp greens, and marinated tubers glistening with golden sap. It was a far cry from the food they'd known on the road.

Raelyn shifted on her cushion and reached for a segment of pale orange fruit. Its skin was soft and cool to the touch, its juice tangy with a hint of honey. She chewed slowly, eyes flicking to Hovan as he picked unenthusiastically at his meal.

He frowned down at a slice of purple-streaked root. "Still no meat," he muttered, pushing it to the side with his fingers. "Not even dried jerky. Not even fish."

Corix didn't look up from his own bowl. "You'll survive."

"I'm not so sure," Hovan replied flatly. "At this point I'd trade my soul for a roasted hare."

Raelyn stifled a laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, but the movement stopped short. Her fingers brushed one of the tiny braids threaded with silver twine, and she smiled instead. The younglings had done it earlier that morning. There had been no teasing in their voices. And so she'd sat still while gentle fingers worked, braiding and weaving until her hair was braided like any other elf. It was the closest thing to belonging she had ever felt.

A knock interrupted the quiet hum of their meal. Elowen looked up from the side table where she was drying a bundle of blue-veined leaves. "Come in," she called.

The door creaked open to reveal Naevor. He stepped inside with his usual composure, hands clasped behind him, the deep green of his tunic catching the lanternlight as he inclined his head.

"I bring word from the Celestial Spire," Naevor said. "The elders extend a formal invitation." He paused. "You are asked to attend Sariel's Embrace at the Starlight Conclave at dusk."

Raelyn blinked. "Sariel's... what?"

Elowen's hand froze halfway to her table. She turned slowly, eyes wide. "They invited you?"

"Apparently so," Corix said, brows furrowed and head tilted.

Elowen stepped forward, her voice hushed. "That's... a sacred rite. No outsiders have ever witnessed it. Let alone been asked to participate."

Naevor gave the faintest smile. "I guess that makes you special."

Raelyn looked between them, her confusion growing. "What is it exactly?"

Elowen folded her hands. "Sariel's Embrace is a tradition observed every full moon. We gather on the Conclave to reflect, to give thanks to the gods... and to recharge our moonstones."

Something stirred in Raelyn's chest. The prospect of being the first human to attend an actual elven ritual seemed almost too good to believe. "Can I really go?" she asked softly.

Elowen smiled. "You must. It is an honor. Refusing would be unthinkable."

"It sounds..." Hovan shifted against the pillows, his brows lifting. "Surprisingly peaceful. I wouldn't mind a prayer to Sariel."

But Elowen turned, already shaking her head. "Not you."

Hovan's expression dropped. "What?"

"You're still healing," she said gently. "The ascent to the Conclave is long, and you've barely made it around the room without stumbling."

Raelyn winced, but Hovan's frustration came sharp. "I can make it up a bloody tree."

"I'm sure you could," Corix said, his voice level. "But not without tearing something open again. You'd be doing yourself no favors."

Hovan gave a short, bitter exhale and leaned back with a scowl.

Corix added more softly, "Besides, we're guests here. Offending our hosts would be... unwise."

Elowen gave him a grateful glance. "Exactly."

Hovan clenched his jaw but said nothing. His hand tightened slightly around the bowl in his lap.

Raelyn lowered her gaze to the braid coiled over her shoulder and ran her thumb over the woven silver thread. Her heart beat a little faster. She would go. She would stand under the moon and kneel beside the elves, just as one of them. She looked at Naevor. "We'll be there."

He nodded, satisfied. "I'll return at dusk to escort you." Then, with another small bow, he slipped back through the door and was gone. Raelyn's fingers curled around the edge of her cushion. Dusk couldn't come fast enough.

☾⟡✦ 𓆩 ❖ 𓆪 ✦⟡☽

The Starlight Conclave spread out before them. The edges of the platform were adorned with garlands, delicate strands of luminous flowers that pulsed faintly with silver and violet light. They swayed with the breeze. Dozens, maybe a hundred of elves were already arriving, their footsteps near-silent on the polished floor. Each one held a small stone in different shapes and sizes. A dull light emanated from it.

Many knelt close to the edge, facing the moon. Others climbed with grace into the branches to the sides. Raelyn followed Elowen, her boots making the barest scuff on the radiant surface. She felt suddenly clumsy. They reached an empty stretch along the edge and settled there. Elowen knelt smoothly, placing her moonstone with care in front of her. Corix sank beside her in his usual rigid posture.

Raelyn eased down last, tucking her legs beneath her. Her fingers lingered over the moonstone she had been given. The surface felt like river-smooth quartz, she placed it in front of her as the others had.

Around them, heads turned when they noticed the humans. Some elves inclined their chins in silent greeting. A few even offered Raelyn soft smiles or respectful nods. One young woman with a garland around her shoulders whispered something to her companion and bowed slightly when their eyes met. But not all welcomed them. Many narrowed their eyes or turned away as if their presence disrupted something sacred. Raelyn kept her face composed, even as the old fear pressed against her ribs.

A sudden flurry of laughter broke through the murmer of the crowd. Raelyn turned. Rakz had wandered from her side, tail twitching with curiosity. A small group of elven children surrounded him, giggling as they knelt around the little creature. One girl held up a tiny wreath of woven leaves and gently set it behind his crest. Another boy offered a dangling charm made of twine and beads. Rakz accepted each offering with a regal stillness, only chirping once when a girl tried to pull his tail.

The full moon had climbed higher now, a pale crown above the treetops, and its light bled over the Conclave. The garlands shimmered brighter, the floor gleamed with starlight. Raelyn drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her hands resting beside the moonstone in her lap.

A hush fell over the platform as three figures stepped into the moonlight. Raelyn straightened, adjusting her posture to see more clearly through the crowd. The gentle rustle of leaves overhead stirred faintly in the night breeze, mingling with the distant chirr of crickets. Somewhere across the canopy, a bird called, then fell silent. Even the children quieted, their soft laughter fading into expectancy.

The elders of Caelluma moved with quiet grace. They wore ceremonial robes, long folds of deep green and silver that caught the moonlight in soft, flowing waves. The fabric whispering against the stone floor. Raelyn's gaze followed them until they reached the center of the platform. There, Thalrielle took a step forward. Her silver hair gleamed beneath the sky, and her hands folded neatly before her chest. For a long moment, she remained still. Then, gently, she inhaled. Her mouth parted and started to sing.

Thalrielle's voice carried into the night, rich and melodic. Rounded syllables and rising tone. The melody rippled outward, soft at first, then fuller as Nytheira and Vaelarion joined in. Their voices braided together into something almost hauntingly beautiful.

Raelyn's heart stirred. The sound was unlike anything she had ever heard. It bypassed thought entirely, unfurling within her like a tide, and pulled at something deep in her chest. Her breathing slowed. The world narrowed to that voice, rising like and falling like the wind.

She didn't understand the language, yet it felt familiar. As though her body recognized it even if her mind could not. She leaned slightly toward Elowen, careful not to disturb the silence. Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "What are they singing?"

Elowen, eyes half-lidded, was swaying gently with the rhythm. She whispered back, "They are calling to our gods. It is how we honor our place in Unevia. We give thanks, so we may be kept in balance. In harmony with them."

As the song continued, the gathered elves began to shift, parting silently at the sides of the platform. From the dark behind the circle, five wooden statues were carried forth by robed figures. They were tall and worn, carved from tree trunks. Each figure was adorned with vines, leaves, and bits of raw cloth or flowers.

The first statue was of a woman with great sweeping wings, bow drawn and aimed toward the stars. Her wings were made of leaves which rustled in the breeze. A circular crest marked her chest. A symbol Raelyn had seen before, etched into Naevor's armor.

"That's Lerajie," Corix murmured, tilting his head toward the statue. "Goddess of archery."

Elowen turned to look at Raelyn. "She is the guide of every arrow, the protector of our heroes. Her gaze watches over all who travel through the wild." She gestured gently. "Our warriors bear her mark as a vow to her."

Raelyn's attention drifted to the next statue. A woman kneeling amidst carved wolves, foxes, deer, and birds. Her wings arched protectively above them. The statue was painted in soft earthen hues, moss green and deep brown.

"Ariel," Corix said softly, following her gaze. "The goddess of nature. Guardian of the forest and all who dwell within. Ariel shields the innocent. Guides the lost."

Elowen smiled. "Not just the lost. We believe it is Ariel that comes for us at the end of our long lives."

"She is goddess of the dead?" Raelyn asked, glancing toward her.

Elowen chuckled softly and shook her head. "She only guides them," she said. "We believe that when an elf dies, we return to Unevia in animal form. Free to roam as part of the world again. Ariel chooses our next form, based on who we were, what we did. It's her way of offering us a new path or make amends to our misdoings."

Raelyn had always believed everyone in Unevia shared the same fate. That the soul, once separated from the body, traveled beyond the veil to Celestia. A place of warmth and joy. Eternal rest among the gods. A reunion with loved ones lost. It had never occurred to her that others believed in something else. She wondered which was true. If either were.

Would her parents have been reborn as stags, or foxes, or crows trailing shadows through the trees? Had they passed by her in the woods without her knowing? Or were they somewhere beyond reach, watching from Celestia, waiting for her to join them one day?

Movement caught Raelyn's attention. The elders, still singing, moved to the center statue. The tallest of them all. A woman carved with outstretched wings and an upturned face. Her arms extended and in her open palms rested small stones. The light above her bathed her figure in silver.

"So that must be Sariel," Raelyn said, hushed.

Elowen nodded. "The goddess of the moon. She watches over all from above, every night. When you're surrounded by darkness, Sariel is the light."

Raelyn remembered Hovan's comment about their night sleep being blessed by Sariel. She hadn't understood then, but now she did.

Raelyn's eyes drifted to the next statue in the line. The figure was tall and robed, one hand pointing toward the heavens while the other held a carved scroll close to his chest. His eyes were etched to gaze skyward. The robe shimmered with deep blue hues, streaked with faint silver. "I know that one," she said. "Baraqijal."

Elowen turned to her, mildly surprised. "That's right."

"Humans pray to the god of fate and the stars as well." Corix added.

"There's a statue of him in the Hall of Prayer at Ardesco, back in Kaiswen" Raelyn explained. Her bright expression momentarily faltered when she thought of her last memory of her old home. 

Elowen nodded. "I see. His wisdom helps us navigate the tides of our lives. Knowing when to act and when not to."

"I must admit I don't know that last one," Corix said.

Raelyn turned to the final statue. It was smaller than the others. A woman bent slightly forward, one hand pressed to the earth, the other cupping a handful of carved herbs. Her expression was serene. Her wings were folded behind her. Raelyn studied the statue's simple lines, the way its feet blended into roots.

Elowen's voice softened. "Bathin. Goddess of the herbs. It is said she planted them across Unevia to ease our suffering. It is because of her that us healers are able to save our own."

As the final notes of the elders' song faded into the night, the silence they left behind felt almost sacred. Not a soul moved and for a moment it was like the forest itself held its breath. Then the three elders began again, a softer, slower melody. The rhythm pulsed gently, and with it, a subtle stirring spread through the gathered elves.

One by one, the elves began to rise and made their way to the statues. Their hands carried offerings: woven bracelets, folded leaves inscribed with sigils, bundles of herbs tied in twine, fragments of crystal, even small carvings shaped by loving hands. Each item was placed with care at the statues' feet.

A young woman pressed her fingers to her brow before leaving a braid of wildflowers at Sariel's pedestal. An elder knelt for a long time before Ariel, whispering a prayer. Near the edges, children danced in slow spirals to the rhythm of the elders' song, arms outstretched, feet bare against the moonlit stone. All of it folded into the moment. A shared offering of memory, longing, gratitude.

Raelyn watched from the edge of the platform, arms folded loosely, her fingers absently tracing the ridges of the moonstone in front of her. Her gaze drifted from elf to elf, then to the statues themselves. Carved wood and paint, feathers and goldleaf, yet they represented something much deeper. 

Raelyn let her eyes settle on the statue of Sariel. She had always told herself that the gods had no place in her life. That if they had, they would have made themselves known when it mattered most, when she was cold and hungry, when her world fell apart, when no one came. And yet... watching the elves tonight, drawing strength from their gods, she felt a pang of longing.

Maybe she had misunderstood what faith was. Maybe it wasn't about expecting divine answers. Maybe it was about hope. About finding meaning in something bigger, even when the world offered none. Maybe belief wasn't about what the gods could give you. Maybe it was about the courage to keep going, even when you didn't know how.

She envied the elves and wished she had that same faith. But she simply didn't. Perhaps it was too late for that now.