The city of Eldralis gleamed beneath the light of a thousand lanterns. The twilight sky shimmered with hues of gold and violet, casting a magical glow over cobblestone streets that had stood for centuries. Banners of blue and silver fluttered in the cool breeze, each adorned with the sigil of Eldralis—a radiant starburst surrounded by protective runes. Merchants lined the streets, their stalls overflowing with glittering trinkets, spiced meats, and delicately woven fabrics.
The Festival of Stars was the most cherished event of the year. Children chased each other through the crowds, their laughter mingling with the melodic tunes of lyres and flutes. Elderly couples strolled arm in arm, reminiscing about festivals past. Every street thrummed with joy, illuminated by lanterns that seemed to rival the stars themselves.
Eira Windthorn stood at the edge of the celebration, her fingers brushing the carved hilt of the dagger strapped to her side. She was seventeen, tall and lithe, with dark curls that framed a face both fierce and thoughtful. Her storm-gray eyes, often filled with curiosity, now held a flicker of unease. While the city reveled, she remained vigilant, her gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the ancient walls of Eldralis. There, shadows stretched across the valley like grasping fingers, dark and foreboding beneath the fading light.
"Eira!"
The voice of her younger brother, Finn, cut through her thoughts. He bounded toward her, his sandy hair disheveled and his blue eyes wide with excitement. "You promised to watch the fire dancers with me!"
Eira forced a smile, pushing her worries aside. "All right, Finn. Lead the way."
Finn grinned and grabbed her hand, pulling her through the crowd. The scent of honey-glazed pastries and roasted chestnuts filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of burning lantern oil. Performers clad in shimmering robes twirled and leaped in the square, their movements mesmerizing as they wielded spirals of flame.
The crowd cheered as the dancers formed a blazing ring, the flames crackling and hissing like living serpents. Finn's eyes sparkled with wonder. "Did you see that?" he exclaimed. "They made a phoenix out of fire!"
Eira nodded absently, though her mind was elsewhere. For weeks, strange dreams had plagued her—visions of a shattered realm, where skies bled red and mountains crumbled into ash. A voice, neither male nor female, had whispered her name in the darkness.
Eira Windthorn. You are bound by fate.
She had told no one, not even Finn. What could she say? That she was haunted by dreams that felt more real than waking life? That an unseen force seemed to be pulling her toward something vast and unknowable?
The flames flickered, and for a moment, they cast eerie shadows across the dancers' faces. Eira shivered despite the warmth of the fire. Her instincts told her that something was coming—something that would shatter the peace of Eldralis.
The performance ended in a dazzling burst of light, and the crowd erupted into applause. Finn tugged at her sleeve. "Come on! Let's get some sweetbread before it's all gone."
Eira chuckled despite herself. "You and your bottomless stomach."
They made their way to a nearby stall, where a plump baker was handing out slices of golden sweetbread dusted with cinnamon. Finn devoured his piece in two bites, crumbs clinging to his chin. Eira ate more slowly, savoring the rich, spiced flavor.
As the last lanterns were lit and the sky deepened into indigo, a hush fell over the crowd. All eyes turned to the Grand Tower, where the High Sage stood with arms outstretched. His silver robes shimmered in the lantern light.
"Citizens of Eldralis," the sage proclaimed, his voice carrying across the square. "Tonight, we honor the stars that guide us and the ancestors who watch over us. May their light protect our city and bless our lands."
The crowd murmured in agreement, heads bowed in reverence.
Eira glanced up at the sky. The stars were unusually bright tonight, their light sharp and unyielding. She felt a strange tug in her chest, as if the heavens were calling out to her.
That night, as the festival drew to a close and the last lantern flickered out, Eira and Finn made their way home through the quiet streets. The joy of the celebration lingered in the air, but Eira couldn't shake the unease that clung to her like a shadow.
They reached their modest stone cottage at the edge of the city. Finn yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Good night, Eira," he mumbled, stumbling toward his room.
"Good night, Finn," she said softly.
As she sat by the window, gazing out at the darkened valley, a distant horn echoed through the night. The sound was low and mournful, carrying a weight of ancient sorrow. Eira's heart skipped a beat.
She stood, her pulse racing. The horn was not part of the festival—it was a warning, one that hadn't been sounded in Eldralis for generations.
Eira's hand tightened around the hilt of her dagger. The joyous peace of the Festival of Stars had faded, leaving only silence and foreboding in its wake. Eldralis would never be the same again.
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