The celebration was being held in what Rowan-In-The-Whispers called the Twilight Hall, though it bore little resemblance to any hall Ali had ever seen. The space seemed to exist somewhere between inside and outside, with walls that faded seamlessly into the eternal sunset sky and a ceiling that might have been made of actual clouds caught in the moment between day and night.
Long tables made of what appeared to be polished moonlight stretched in elegant curves throughout the space. Fae of all descriptions moved among them with fluid grace, their appearances ranging from almost human to decidedly otherworldly. The air was filled with music that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, played on instruments Ali couldn't quite focus her eyes on.
"Your places are here," Rowan-In-The-Whispers said, leading them to a table where other tributes were already being seated. Ali recognized several faces from their earlier presentation to the Queen, including Michael Anderson and a few others from their arrival group.
Ali found herself seated between Sage and a fae whose hair seemed to be made of actual autumn leaves, despite the perpetual summer of the court. Sage gave her a reassuring smile as they settled into chairs that adjusted themselves to provide perfect comfort.
"The feast will begin shortly," their guide announced. "Remember your courtesies, and enjoy the hospitality of the Summer Court." With that, they melted away into the crowd with impossible grace.
The autumn-haired fae beside Ali turned to her with a smile that reminded her of sunlight through leaves. "I am known as Maple-Songs-At-Dusk," they said. "I've been asked to help explain some of our customs during the feast."
"Thank you," Ali replied carefully. "I'm..." she paused, remembering to use her chosen court name, "Dawn."
"A pleasure, Dawn." Maple-Songs-At-Dusk's eyes sparkled with something that might have been amusement at her careful introduction. "Tell me, what star pattern guided your first breath into the mortal world?"
"I was born under the Maiden," Ali said, remembering her mother's advice about translating modern concepts into terms the fae would understand.
"Ah, the Starlit Maiden," the fae said approvingly. "She who weaves fate's threads with careful hands. A good omen for one entering our courts."
Before Ali could respond, servers appeared bearing plates that seemed to be made of spun moonlight. The food they carried defied description—fruits that glowed from within, bread that looked like it had been baked with captured starlight, meats seasoned with what might have been actual gold dust.
Ali watched carefully as Maple-Songs-At-Dusk and other fae began to eat before taking any food herself. She noticed Sage doing the same, and exchanged a knowing glance with her new friend.
"The stars have been particularly vocal lately," a fae across the table commented. Their skin seemed to shift between pearl and opal as they moved. "The Dancer's Crown has been moving in unusual patterns."
"Indeed," Maple-Songs-At-Dusk agreed. "Three nights past, I observed the Frost Phoenix crossing paths with the Summer Serpent—a rare alignment."
Michael, the dark-haired tribute from earlier, apparently decided this was his moment to join the conversation. "I had a dream about a phoenix last week," he said eagerly. "It was made of ice and spoke in riddles."
There was a pause—brief but noticeable—before several fae at the table laughed politely. It wasn't cruel laughter, but it carried an edge of something Ali couldn't quite identify. She noticed Michael's face flush red as he realized he'd somehow misstepped.
"Dreams in your realm are... charming," the opal-skinned fae said diplomatically. "But they lack the weight of true Dream-Walking. Here, dreams are shared experiences, carefully crafted and woven together like tapestries of starlight and shadow."
"Would you share a dream with us?" Sage asked carefully, clearly trying to smooth over the awkward moment.
The fae's eyes lit up—literally, glowing like moonstones. "Last night's dream was particularly vibrant. Several of us walked through gardens where the flowers bloomed with memories of ancient songs. Each petal held a different note, and as we moved through the garden, our footsteps composed a melody that hasn't been heard since the First Dawn."
"The harmonies were exquisite," Maple-Songs-At-Dusk added. "Especially when the starlight began to rain upward, each drop adding its own counterpoint to the composition."
Ali listened in fascination as the fae described their shared dreamscape, noting how they built upon each other's descriptions, adding layers of detail and meaning that seemed to exist somewhere between poetry and music. She took small bites of her food as she listened—everything tasted incredible, but in ways she couldn't quite describe. A fruit that looked like a pearl dissolved on her tongue like moonlight and tasted like the memory of summer storms.
"The stars speak of change," another fae commented during a lull in the dream-sharing. "The Wandering Crown drifts closer to the Court of Shadows with each passing night."
"As it ever has," Maple-Songs-At-Dusk said, though Ali noticed a slight tension in their voice. "The dance of the stars follows its own patterns, as it has since the First Song was sung."
"And yet," the opal-skinned fae mused, "patterns can be... disrupted. The Maiden's threads sometimes tangle in unexpected ways, do they not?"
Ali felt the weight of several fae gazes fall on her at this comment, though she wasn't sure why. She touched her mother's bracelet under the table, drawing comfort from its solid presence.
"Speaking of patterns," Maple-Songs-At-Dusk said smoothly, clearly changing the subject, "the Dance of First Light will begin soon. Dawn, would you care to observe from the Star-Viewing terrace? The perspective there is particularly enlightening for those new to our court."
Ali recognized the offer as both a kindness and an escape from the increasingly loaded conversation about stars and patterns. "I would be honored," she said, carefully matching the fae's formal tone.
As they rose from the table, Ali caught Sage's eye. Her friend gave her a slight nod, indicating she'd be fine on her own. Several other fae were already engaging Sage in what appeared to be a fascinating discussion about the properties of dreamlight in different seasons.
Maple-Songs-At-Dusk led Ali through the crowd to a set of stairs that seemed to be made of frozen starlight. As they ascended, the sounds of the feast faded behind them, replaced by a strange, ethereal music that seemed to come from the stars themselves.
"You handle yourself well," the fae commented as they reached the terrace. "Better than most first-time tributes. Your mother taught you carefully, I think."
Ali looked at her companion sharply, but Maple-Songs-At-Dusk was gazing up at the impossible sky, where stars were moving in patterns that definitely weren't natural by human standards.
"The stars do speak of change," they said softly. "But change isn't always what it appears to be, just as names aren't always what they seem. Remember that, Dawn-who-is-not-just-Dawn."
Before Ali could respond to this cryptic statement, music swelled from below, indicating the beginning of the Dance of First Light. But as she watched the spectacular display unfold, Ali couldn't shake the feeling that she had just been given a warning—or perhaps a prophecy—though she had no idea what it might mean.