The Still World knew no time—but that night, it seemed to pause just for them.
Selene's soft breaths mingled with the ambient glow of drifting light petals above. Her silhouette moved in rhythm with a deep, unseen tide—each breath drawn sharper, each motion etched with trust and vulnerability.
Alter lay beneath her, his hands gently guiding her hips, his voice a low murmur of her name each time she trembled.
She leaned forward, her hands braced on his chest, lips parted as a soft moan escaped. Then again, the pace rising. Her body tensed, arched, and finally collapsed against his chest, breathless, radiant.
He held her close, their skin slick with warmth, hearts beating in silent harmony.
"…I love you," she whispered into his collarbone.
He kissed the crown of her head in answer.
She drifted into sleep, nestled against him, fingers still clutching faintly at his hand.
Morning in the Still World was a gentle shimmer of sky and warmth.
Selene stirred first, stretching languidly beneath the linen sheets. Alter was already sitting up beside her, the glow of the realm casting golden light over his bare shoulders.
She sat up, one of his oversized linen shirts draping loosely over her frame—messy hair, flushed cheeks, and eyes still half-dreaming.
Alter turned—and paused.
She caught him staring.
"What?" she teased, smiling coyly. "Last night wasn't enough for you?"
Alter tilted his head slightly. "Not even close."
She giggled—but her breath caught as he leaned in, kissed her gently, and pressed his forehead to hers.
"Then don't stop," she whispered.
The linens rustled again as he gently pushed her back, their laughter and affection echoing faintly in the eternal calm.
Outside, the Still World remained still.
But within their sanctuary, love stirred like flame—quiet, but unending.
Sunlight sifted through a dome of pale emerald leaves as Alter, Selene, and their companions crossed into the twilight veil of the eastern groves. Here, in the forgotten heart of Seraveth, the great elven kingdom of Elarithan Glade stood untouched by time.
For Selene, the breeze carried memory. For Alter, it carried meaning.
"It feels… warmer than I remember," she murmured as she held his hand tighter.
Alter smiled softly. "Or maybe it's you that's changed."
The forest opened, revealing the radiant city of Sylvaralith—crystal-bark towers grown from living trees, their roots weaving bridges over glimmering pools. The ground beneath them pulsed with natural mana. Music from unseen flutes drifted with the wind.
It had been months since their wedding, but word of their return traveled quickly through the forest. Elven civilians paused to bow. Courtiers whispered. Some even waved warmly.
They remembered.
After all, the royal family of Dawnlight had attended the wedding themselves—King Elarion Virellia, Queen Nelyari, Alendra, and Theron. Their cloaked arrival at the ceremony had stunned the guests, and their acceptance of Selene's marriage to the Draconian Prime had rippled through elven and human courts alike.
Now, the newlyweds had come to visit her homeland for the first time as husband and wife.
At the high gate of Sylvaralith, golden-armored guards greeted them with familiarity.
"Princess Selene. Lord Alter," the captain said with a bow. "Welcome home. Your chambers have been prepared. The royal family awaits you."
Blazebloom, in his majestic bear form, huffed as he waddled through the gates behind them—wearing a flower crown from the wedding that Selene refused to let him remove. Several elven children giggled and whispered, "It's the fluffy guardian!"
Blazebloom paused, struck a regal pose, and one small elf tossed him an apple. He caught it and strutted proudly.
Mira leaned over to Finn. "Still wearing that flower crown, huh?"
Finn smirked. "He's married to the aesthetic now."
They ascended winding vine-formed stairs to the royal courtyard. Awaiting them were familiar faces:
King Elarion Virellia, arms crossed, his emerald robes fluttering.
Queen Nelyari, dignified but less rigid than before.
Alendra, who instantly beamed and waved dramatically.
Theron, ever formal, though his eyes had softened since the wedding.
"Back from your retreat into myth and love, I see," Elarion chuckled as Selene and Alter approached.
"You could have sent word," the queen chided gently, though there was no true anger in her tone.
Selene hugged her mother regardless. "I wanted to surprise you."
Alendra immediately bounded up and whispered loudly, "You're glowing again. Still World again, right? How many times are you two going to—?"
"Alendra," Theron muttered sharply.
Alendra grinned and nudged him, "Don't pretend you're not curious."
Alter bowed politely to both parents. "Thank you for welcoming us. We've wanted to come for some time."
"We've awaited it," the king said with warm eyes. "You're part of this family now, Alter. Though I admit, you do make the other suitors throughout history seem… laughably inadequate."
Selene blushed. "Father—"
"We will host a banquet tomorrow," Elarion continued. "For now, rest. Walk your homeland. Let the forest remember you."
Queen Nelyari added with a nod, "And we will join you for dinner. No politics. No ceremonies. Just family."
As they departed, Blazebloom was already attempting to climb a decorative waterfall in the royal garden. Elven guards watched with a mix of alarm and amusement as the bear balanced on two legs and posed dramatically on a ledge.
"Is he… challenging the koi?" one noble whispered.
"Don't question it," Mira muttered.
Selene laughed and leaned into Alter's side. "It's strange," she whispered. "I used to feel like I didn't belong here. But now—"
"You've returned home as yourself," Alter said. "Not as a daughter. Not as a soldier. But as the woman you chose to become."
She smiled, eyes misting. "And you're the man I chose to walk beside."
They stood beneath the glowing branches, hand in hand, as the elven city welcomed their daughter home once more—not in exile, but in celebration.
As twilight softened the canopy of Sylvaralith, the royal family withdrew into the inner sanctum of their palace—a chamber woven from crystalline leaves and mana-infused wood, echoing with whispers of ancestral songs. Only Selene, Alter, and her immediate family remained within.
They sat together beneath the arched skylight, moonlight spilling through like strands of silk.
Selene rested beside Alter on a curved divan of woven goldenvine, her fingers intertwined with his. Across from them, King Elarion leaned forward with a glass of amber nectar, eyes studying his daughter—now a woman fully in her own radiance.
Queen Nelyari sipped quietly. "You've changed, Selene."
Selene smiled. "I feel like I've… remembered who I was meant to be."
Alendra, arms crossed behind her head, grinned wide. "About time. You were always the quiet storm in the back. Now look at you. Still glowing, by the way."
Selene's cheeks tinted, but Alter gently held her hand tighter.
Theron gave a curt nod to Alter. "Your presence in Seraveth… is no small thing. There are rumors beyond the veil of this forest. Some whisper you're more than a man."
Alter met his gaze calmly. "Let them whisper. I only stand for those I care for."
The king chuckled. "Well said. A sovereign without arrogance. Rare."
There was a silence. Then Selene quietly asked, "Father, Mother… do you truly approve?"
Queen Nelyari met her daughter's eyes. "We came to your wedding, didn't we? You did not choose lightly. You chose the man who walked through the gods' gaze and still returned to hold your hand."
Elarion added with a warm tone, "He's family now. And I trust him to catch you if you fall. Or burn the world if you're ever taken from him."
Alendra raised a hand. "I'd pay to see that, honestly."
The family shared a soft laughter, shadows easing beneath the moonlight.
Later that morning, as golden mist rolled off the forest floor, the male members of the visiting group took a guided tour of Sylvaralith.
Alter, Finn, Theron, Draven (who had returned briefly to check on the group), and even Blazebloom in his smaller, upright cub form, wandered the spiraling paths and moss-covered bridges that crisscrossed the ancient elven capital.
The city was breathtaking. Graceful towers rose like blooming flowers. Floating platforms drifted lazily between canopy layers. But what caught their collective attention more than once…
…were the elven maidens.
Tall. Ethereal. Dressed in silken garb that shimmered like dew. Some practiced wind dances over reflective pools. Others glided through the arboretum, their laughter like windchimes.
Finn and Draven were the first to noticeably slow their steps. Theron exhaled through his nose, muttering, "Every time."
Alter raised a brow. "Impressed?"
Finn cleared his throat. "No! I mean, yes. But—"
Before he could finish, Mira, Arinelle, and Selene (now changed into a flowing traveling robe of white) appeared atop a nearby terrace, arms folded.
"Touring, are we?" Mira called down.
Finn jolted so hard his wind aura sparked at his heels.
Arinelle smirked, "Elven flora or elven figures, gentlemen?"
Even Selene tilted her head innocently, though her eyes sparkled with sharp amusement. "Shall I take note of how many times your gaze drifted from the guide's explanations?"
Alter, unfazed, raised one hand toward Selene. "For the record… my eyes didn't stray."
Blazebloom crossed his little arms like a judge and looked at each man. "Flirt counters: Finn – 5. Draven – 3. Theron – 1. Alter – 0."
Finn nearly choked. "YOU WERE COUNTING?!"
The women burst out laughing. Mira skipped down the steps to elbow Finn. "Don't worry. Just proves you're still mortal. And cute when you panic."
Theron grumbled, "This is why I prefer blade meditation."
Draven tried to regain composure, but Arinelle poked his cheek and said, "Careful. One more look and I'll report you to the flower spirits."
Selene walked beside Alter, whispering to him, "I noticed your eyes never left me."
"I don't need to look elsewhere," he whispered back, "I already married the most beautiful one."
She blushed—again—and they walked onward, the group reunited, laughter echoing behind them. Above, the forest swayed gently, as if even the trees were smiling at the antics below.
The emerald canopy of Sylvaralith filtered sunlight through layered branches, casting glimmering beams upon the forest's sacred training glade. Vines coiled around arching wooden pylons, forming natural rings where elven warriors sparred with graceful strikes and flowing blade forms. Their movements shimmered with elegance—like wind threading through leaves—each clash a dance of precision rather than brute force.
Alter stood with his arms crossed, Selene beside him. The Mythral Dawn Commanders and the rest of their traveling party were gathered in a loose semi-circle, watching the demonstration with a mix of admiration and respect.
The elven combatants moved in perfect rhythm, spears spinning, arrows drawn mid-flip, and swords weaving patterns like calligraphy in motion. A final synchronized formation ended in a kneeling stance—bows raised, blades lowered, breath unified.
Alter nodded. "Elegant. Refined. Impressive," he praised genuinely.
Then he tilted his head ever so slightly. A glint flickered in his eyes.
A smirk followed.
His arms slowly uncrossed.
And every single member of the Mythral Dawn group visibly stiffened.
"Oh no," Mira whispered.
"Not again," Finn muttered, already stepping behind Blazebloom as if for cover.
Selene's head snapped toward him, alarm flashing in her voice. "No."
Draven took a half-step forward, one palm raised. "Please… just this once… don't."
The elven scouts, completely unaware of the rising tension, blinked in confusion.
Alter blinked innocently. "What?"
"You're doing it again!" Mira shouted, pointing at his face. "That smirk! That damned sovereign training smirk!"
"I'm literally just standing here," Alter replied flatly, though he was now actively rolling his shoulders like he was preparing something.
Selene stepped forward and gripped his arm. "Darling. Please. I know that face. That's the 'what if I completely reshape their entire military philosophy and erase their souls in three days' face."
"It is not," Alter insisted, now visibly pouting.
"It is," the Commanders echoed in chorus.
The elven scout captain tilted his head. "Is… something wrong?"
Jaris stepped forward with a somber face and dark tone. "You don't understand. If he trains you… you may survive—but you will never sleep the same again."
Elira Mistshade added, "We don't speak of Day Eleven. We never speak of Ghost Step again."
Vellmar whispered as if reliving war: "So many clones… so many slashes…"
Talia shivered. "My thighs still hurt from the seventh day's 'omni-rotation leap reflex assault conditioning.' That wasn't a name—it was a death sentence."
The scout captain blinked. "But… isn't training supposed to be rigorous?"
Arinelle leaned in with a sweet, pitying smile. "You sweet summer sapling. You've never felt fear until your teacher slices a construct mountain in half with dimensional slashes and asks you to match the timing."
Blazebloom, now floating beside them in his fluffy bear form, crossed all four limbs and announced, "Statistical analysis shows: 87% chance of nervous breakdown. 12% chance of mild enlightenment. 1% chance of total divine ego-death."
Alter raised both hands, aghast. "It wasn't that bad. You're all alive!"
Finn immediately shouted, "Yes—but traumatized for life!"
Draven nodded grimly. "I still hear your footfalls in my sleep."
Selene doubled over laughing, holding her side as tears shimmered in her eyes. "You should see your face, love. They're terrified."
"I haven't even done anything yet," Alter muttered, genuinely wounded.
"You were thinking about it," Selene teased, booping his nose. "That's all it takes now."
The elves remained baffled, watching their highly esteemed guests devolve into borderline hysteria. One of the older elven instructors leaned toward the queen and whispered, "Should we still request a sparring demonstration from the sovereign?"
The queen quietly replied, "Only if we wish to declare national calamity."
Alter sighed in surrender, head drooping just slightly. "Fine. I won't change their training regimen. This week."
A unified wave of relieved sighs washed over the group.
Selene giggled and wrapped her arm around his. "You're a sovereign of war, love. But not everyone wants to be sculpted by fire and dimensional blades."
"More's the pity," Alter muttered.
The sun dipped just a little deeper through the forest canopy as laughter echoed through the ancient glade. For now—just for now—the elves were safe.
The stars were just beginning to glimmer overhead as the elven lanterns lit the arched terraces of Sylvaralith's royal guest manor. The floral wind carried the sweet scent of night lilies through polished walkways where vines danced lazily across the wood-carved railings. Beneath one of the moon-dappled gazebos, two figures sat alone—one in flowing white silks, the other in royal green with silver-threaded cuffs.
Selene leaned against the curved railing, arms folded and eyes distant, lost in the serenity of the elven homeland. Her long silver hair spilled down her back in loose waves, still damp from the earlier bath. Across from her, seated cross-legged with a glass of moon petal wine, her older sister—Princess Sylviana—watched her with a calm, amused gaze.
"You've changed," Sylviana said softly, taking a sip. "There's something… grounded about you now."
Selene smiled faintly. "He anchors me."
"And yet you're the one who shines."
Selene chuckled. "I try."
Sylviana tilted her head. "How strong is he really?"
The question hung in the air like dew on the leaf's edge. Selene's expression softened. "Stronger than anything I've ever seen. He fought a Demon God named Salvatore. One with partial Creator Authority."
Sylviana blinked. "A Demon God?"
Selene nodded and began to recount the battle—not in vague brushstrokes, but in detailed flourishes.
She described the shattered skies. The fire dragons diving in unison. Alter dashing across dragon backs mid-air to execute strike after strike of the Demon God Killing Martial Arts. The final blow—Strike XVIII: Creator's Banishment—that unmade Salvatore's divine essence, sending tremors through the realm.
Sylviana's wineglass paused halfway to her lips. "You make it sound like a saga out of the old verses."
"It was," Selene said softly. "I was there. I saw it."
Sylviana took a long sip, then leaned back, eyes thoughtful. "So… the man you married can decimate gods with his bare hands."
Selene smiled proudly. "He's more than power. He carries the weight of it with grace."
Sylviana tilted her head again, lips curling upward mischievously. "And your… marital sparring sessions… are they equally explosive?"
Selene choked on her tea. "W-What?!"
Sylviana smirked. "I mean, if he's that strong, how do you even survive? Does the bed survive?"
"I—That's not—!" Selene's ears flushed a deep pink as she fumbled for words.
"Do walls survive?"
"Stop it!" Selene swatted at her.
"Do you survive?" Sylviana leaned in with wicked delight. "You've been glowing every single morning since your wedding. Even the trees are gossiping."
Selene buried her face in her hands. "Why are you like this?"
"Because I'm your sister," Sylviana beamed. "And it's my divine duty to tease you."
"I'm going to die of embarrassment," Selene groaned into her palms.
Sylviana sipped again, then added, "You know… you were always the quiet one. The starlit shadow. But now, you look like you were made to stand beside him. You glow brighter than any moonlight."
Selene peeked between her fingers. Her blush lingered, but so did a soft smile. "He makes me feel seen. Not just as a mage. Or as a princess. Just… as me."
Sylviana nodded, her teasing tone fading into something warmer. "Then I'm glad. Truly."
The two sisters sat together in silence for a time, gazing up at the stars. The moon's silver glow bathed their faces, soft and gentle.
Sylviana leaned sideways against her sister's shoulder. "Though if he ever hurts you…"
Selene smirked. "He won't. He wouldn't dare."
"Good." Sylviana grinned. "Because I already prepared three divine arrows, a barrier-severing dagger, and a truth-binding spell just in case."
"You're insane."
"Family."
Selene laughed, long and unguarded.
And beneath that twilight veil, two sisters sat, not as royalty, but simply as women bound by love, memory, and the shared teasing only siblings knew how to deliver.
The elven manor's high balcony shimmered beneath the pale starlight, its marble railings kissed by the glow of moon-laced blossoms from the garden below. Selene sat with her sister on a cushioned bench, their legs curled, the breeze combing gently through their hair.
Her sister leaned close with a mischievous smile. "So… you're married to the man who's had half the continent panicking and the other half worshipping him. Tell me, just how strong is your Alter?"
Selene's lips curled with faint amusement. "Strong enough to make you rethink the definition of strength."
"Oh please," her sister teased, nudging her. "Give me more than poetic riddles."
Selene sighed and glanced to the horizon. Her voice softened. "He fought a Demon God, you know."
That made her sister pause. "Wait—seriously?"
Selene nodded. "In the southern continent… in a sealed realm known as the Forbidden Vein. The world didn't even remember it existed until the sky tore open. Six years passed in our world while he fought alone within it. And when the rift finally opened, a Demon God with Creator Authority—partially awakened—emerged."
She paused.
"He killed it."
Her sister blinked. "A Demon God? Like, actual god? The kind in the myth-songs?"
Selene nodded again, more slowly this time. "Its name was Salvatore. The battle leveled the skies. Six ancient Dragon Lords died in the fight. Alter killed the god… then absorbed the essence of all six dragons."
Silence fell between them for a long beat.
"...Okay," her sister muttered. "That's not strength. That's absurd."
Selene chuckled softly. "He came back changed. His body, his aura… even time bends around him now. He's not just a man anymore. He's the Prime Dragonic Sovereign."
Her sister leaned back, dazed. "I was just expecting a story about him punching out a mountain or two. But a Demon God? Six dragons? Who is this man?"
"My husband," Selene replied, eyes shimmering.
Then came the slow, devilish grin from her sister. "Well then… if your fights are that explosive…"
Selene blinked. "What?"
Her sister leaned in. "Are your other matches just as divine-tier? Like, I saw that glow, sister. You nearly blinded the garden."
Selene flushed instantly, eyes wide. "W-we're not talking about this—!"
"Oh come on, how many times has the bed frame surrendered in your nightly trials?"
"Stop it!"
"Be honest—do you cast Divine Shield before round two?"
Selene sputtered in embarrassment, covering her face as laughter spilled from her sister like music. "You're evil!"
"I'm just observant. And blessed with ears." Her sister winked. "Also, the staff downstairs is starting to place bets. Don't lose your title."
Selene groaned, already plotting her revenge.
Selene buried her blushing face in her hands, still glowing with residual heat—not from magic, but sheer embarrassment. Her sister sat back, arms folded, positively triumphant.
That was when the balcony doors creaked open behind them.
Soft footsteps padded across the polished stone. Selene's sister straightened, curious—and then smiled with the faintest flicker of amusement.
"Speak of the devil…"
Alter emerged from the shadows, dressed casually for once, a soft tunic of storm-thread silk tied at the waist. His eyes landed on Selene's flustered form and her sister's mischievous grin. He raised an eyebrow.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked dryly.
Selene didn't answer. She was too busy mentally rearranging the balcony railing to hide behind.
Her sister, however, leaned over and stage-whispered, "Just in time, actually. She was just telling me all about your... duels."
Alter blinked. "Duels?"
"Intimate ones."
Selene practically exploded into magical static.
"WE WERE NOT—!"
Alter's lips twitched. "Ah."
Her sister grinned like a fox. "You know, we were discussing how the stars weren't the brightest thing glowing last night."
Selene groaned and collapsed forward, face pressed into Alter's side.
"Please make her stop."
"I'm trying not to encourage her," he replied, patting her back gently.
But her sister wasn't done. "You're not even denying it?"
"Should I?" Alter replied with a small, calm smirk, clearly enjoying himself now. "She was glowing. Nearly blinded Blazebloom when we came out."
Selene whimpered in defeat.
"Oh gods," her sister laughed, clutching her stomach. "He's worse than you."
"Traitor," Selene mumbled into his shirt.
Alter chuckled, gently easing her upright. His hand slipped behind her back, rubbing soothing circles. "Alright, alright. That's enough teasing for one night."
"Fine, fine," her sister said, hands raised in mock surrender. "I'll save the next round for morning tea."
Selene gave her a sideways glare that could have frozen lakewater.
Alter kissed her temple and stood. "I'll go prepare a tray. Thought we could enjoy the rest of the evening here."
Her sister watched him go, then turned to Selene again. "I see why you married him."
"Don't start."
"I mean, confidence, power, muscles, and he makes tea?"
Selene's look was murderous now.
"Okay, okay!" her sister said, laughing again as she stood up and dusted off her skirts. "I'll go raid the dessert kitchen and see what he left for us peasants."
As she departed, she called back with a final wink, "Just don't break the balcony railing next time, Your Majesty."
Selene stood there alone for a second, visibly weighing her sister's life against the laws of hospitality.
Then she sighed, slumped back onto the bench, and muttered:
"I'm never living this down."
Moments later, Alter returned, tray in hand, holding cups of steaming moon-leaf tea and crystal fruit slices. He sat beside her, quiet, watching her mood gently recalibrate.
He placed one hand over hers and smiled softly. "They tease because they love you."
She leaned against him and sighed. "I know. But I swear, if she brings this up at breakfast..."
"I'll blindfold her."
That earned a small giggle. She looked up. "Promise?"
Alter nodded solemnly. "With enchanted cloth. Grade-A divine silk. No mercy."
Together, they sipped tea under the stars—husband and wife, Sovereign and Sovereigness—laughing in the moonlight of the elven homeland.
The halls of the elven citadel had never shimmered quite so brightly.
Golden blossoms of moonleaf glowed from vines curled around the marble pillars, while sapphire mana-crystals pulsed in gentle rhythm from above. Long tables of polished whitewood stretched across the open banquet garden, decorated with floating petal-lanterns and plates of rare delicacies—crystal-fruit preserves, shimmer-roasted stag, dew-marrow nectar, and firewine chilled in frostbark carafes.
This was a celebration not of war or alliance, but love.
Selene and Alter, seated at the high dais beneath a living canopy of starlight-touched branches, had eyes only for each other. She wore a flowing emerald dress spun from dawnspider silk and ancient vine-thread, her hair braided with silverleaf charms. Alter, beside her, donned a regal mantle of white and black dragonhide, trimmed in celestial thread, exuding quiet command and contentment.
As music drifted in from flutes and spirit-harps, elven maidens in ceremonial robes moved gracefully between the tables—pouring wine, offering fruit, smiling with the ethereal poise only elves could master.
And that... was a problem.
Down at the lower tables, the male Commanders were locked in mortal combat—not against foes, but against themselves.
Finn sat ramrod straight, hands in his lap, his mouth as dry as scorched stone. Mira, seated beside him, narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You've blinked twice," she said flatly.
Finn nodded stiffly. "Dust. In my eye."
"You've stared at the same lantern for ten minutes."
"It's a very symmetrical lantern."
Mira's eyebrow twitched. "Finn."
"I have not noticed anything. I am practically blind right now."
From across the table, Garran Flamecoil nearly choked on his wine. "Somebody save this man—he's got his soul on life support."
Darius, the Shield Commander, leaned over and muttered, "I've never clenched my jaw this long in my life. These elves… they move like music."
Thorne Ironstride, biting a fruit, groaned. "Why are they all so graceful? It's like being attacked by poetry."
Sorei Windshaper smirked. "You boys look like you're about to confess to crimes you didn't commit."
"I would," Revyn Mistclaw added from the shadows. "Just to escape."
Selene, from the high table, was sipping wine with a knowing smile. Her sister leaned over to whisper, "Your warriors look like they're being punished."
"They are," Selene replied softly. "By fate. And their own eyes."
Alter was quietly watching too—one corner of his mouth twitching upward as he caught Finn's glance, followed by Finn's swift turn away, face pale with stress.
And then… Blazebloom arrived.
The celestial bear—currently in his "chibi mascot" form, about half the height of a chair—strode into the banquet grounds with confidence. A laurel crown tilted sideways on his fuzzy head, a jug of honeybrew tied to his back.
"Oh ho! Did someone say celebration?" he bellowed in his deep, rumbling voice. "I smelled pastries."
A dozen elven maidens turned to look at the adorable talking bear. A collective "awwwww" echoed across the garden.
Blazebloom froze. "Wait. What is—why are they approaching?"
One maiden knelt down and offered him a candied fruit.
Another patted his fuzzy head.
"Cursed cuteness protocol activated—retreat!" Blazebloom yelped.
He scampered across the garden in panic, weaving between tables, the elven maidens laughing and chasing after him like children after a festival sprite.
The entire garden burst into laughter. Even the male commanders sighed in relief, the tension temporarily broken by Blazebloom's desperate retreat.
Alter raised his glass toward the table of his disciples. "Drink freely. But remember: if your hearts wander, your next training session will involve blindfolds and full-speed terrain navigation."
They froze mid-sip.
Selene stifled a giggle, leaning into him. "Cruel."
"Necessary," he replied, sipping casually. "I've seen Finn in a fog spell. We can't risk it."
Mira smirked as she leaned against Finn. "So… how's the symmetrical lantern now?"
Finn closed his eyes in defeat. "I miss the dungeon."
The music played on. Dances followed. Wine flowed. And the laughter never stopped.
In that moonlit grove, beneath trees older than kingdoms, warriors, lovers, and friends celebrated peace—even if for just a fleeting moment.
The banquet had slowly waned into quiet joy.
Torch-lanterns now floated lower, casting warm glows across the dew-slicked stones of the garden. The music had softened to a gentle hum as the nobles and commanders finished their final toasts and stories.
Then—like a spark thrown onto dry tinder—the Elven King rose.
His polished silver-green mantle shimmered with subtle arcane weaves, and his eyes, old as the woods themselves, glinted with mischief.
"A moment, friends," he declared, stepping forward with a calm grace. "Tonight we honor the marriage of my daughter, Selene, and her beloved—our honored guest, Alter. But traditions are sacred. In the old laws of our people, a guest of such standing must offer a show of martial strength before the court."
The music stopped.
Everyone turned.
Alter, seated beside Selene, blinked once. Slowly.
"Ah…" he said with a wary smile. "A demonstration?"
The King smiled knowingly. "A friendly match. A final exhibition of skill—between warriors of honor. It's been decades since we've held such ceremony."
Alter opened his mouth to respond, but a slam echoed.
Selene had already stood. Her hands slammed the table, eyes wide with panic.
"No."
Her voice cut through the garden like a blade of lightning.
"He is not fighting tonight."
The elven court blinked. Some even leaned forward. But Selene's expression was fierce.
Finn immediately stood next. "I second that."
Darius raised a gauntlet. "Third."
Thorne pointed his fork. "I don't need trauma again. No thanks."
Mira snapped her fingers, casting a small breeze through the banquet air. "What if the trees catch fire again?"
Garran muttered, "Or the mountain?"
The Elven King looked baffled. "Surely, it's only a spar—"
"He once broke a continent mid-duel," Revyn said flatly. "With his foot."
"I was there," Jaris whispered. "He sneezed in the middle of a feint. Three people passed out from the pressure."
Elira nodded. "I still dream about the crater."
Even the elven guards began murmuring now, eyes darting between Alter and the others.
Blazebloom, seated on a cushion with three half-eaten fruit pastries stacked on his belly, raised a paw lazily. "He flicked a demon general once. Flicked. The demon disintegrated."
The King raised a hand. "But surely… just a demonstration—"
"Last time he demonstrated something," Mira hissed, "it took three days to rebuild the training field."
Selene was already standing in front of Alter now, arms spread as if shielding him from the world. "Father, with all due respect, if you wish for the gardens to remain intact, I must forbid you from asking him to lift even a finger."
The Queen, amused but concerned, stood beside her husband. "Darling, perhaps we can settle for a story?"
The Elven Prince, Selene's brother, chimed in with a grin. "I mean, I would like to see him move. Just once."
Alter finally raised a hand in protest. "I'm not that destructive."
Everyone turned to him.
Then, in perfect unison, every commander and Blazebloom all muttered:
"Yes, you are."
Even Selene stared him down, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "You leveled half a mountain because someone threw a dagger at me."
"…I was aiming for precision."
"You erased a canyon."
"It was a very narrow beam."
"Then why is the entire canyon called 'Deathlash Hollow' now?!"
Alter sighed in defeat. "Okay. No demonstration."
The Elven King chuckled. "Then… perhaps a simple toast will suffice."
A wave of laughter washed over the garden. The tension dissolved like fog beneath the morning sun.
Alter leaned back into his seat as the music resumed. Selene sat beside him, victorious.
He muttered under his breath, "I was only going to flick someone's weapon…"
"I know," she whispered, smirking. "That's why we stopped you."
The banquet had long ended.
The moon hung high over the elven lands, casting its silver light through a veil of blooming nightshade trees. The wind carried the quiet hum of nocturnal magic, and the stars danced with reverence above the ancient canopy.
Alter stood alone near the edge of a carved stone balcony overlooking the moonlit lakes of the Elven Kingdom. His cloak rippled gently behind him, arms resting loosely on the railing, gaze distant.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice was calm. Measured.
Alter turned slightly as the Elven King approached, robed now in simpler white and green attire, without crown or entourage. Just a father. Just a man.
"It is," Alter replied softly. "Calm. Serene. Like the world hasn't burned in centuries."
The king chuckled, stepping beside him. "That's what we strive for. We preserve the illusion, so that peace feels tangible."
Silence settled for a time.
Alter finally spoke, "You knew. From the moment you arrived at the estate. Who I was."
"I knew who Selene had chosen," the king said, gazing out over the moonwater. "And I knew… that only someone who had endured far too much pain could look so gentle while carrying so much power."
Alter's jaw tightened slightly. He didn't respond immediately.
The king continued, "My daughter did not run away because of us. She left because the world called her to something greater. And in finding you, she found a man who could understand that pull. You are… a rare soul, Alter. You lead not because you desire to, but because you must."
Another moment passed.
Alter asked, "Do you approve?"
The king turned to look at him, eyes ancient and kind.
"I did the moment I saw the way she glows beside you."
He placed a hand on Alter's shoulder. "And I've seen many warriors across the centuries. Heroes, tyrants, kings, and fools. But only a few have looked at their wives the way you do. Like time itself could end—and nothing else would matter."
Alter's eyes lowered. "She's… my peace. My reason. And yet, I may have to leave her soon."
The king nodded solemnly. "Selene told me. The divine call. The world seeking balance."
"I fear it will hurt her again."
"It will," the king said. "But if her heart is anything like mine—she would rather hurt in your absence than lose you entirely to the weight you carry."
A long silence stretched between them. The stars wheeled overhead.
"Then I'll carve a path back," Alter whispered.
The king's eyes softened.
"And if the gods deny it?"
"I'll make them understand."
The king smiled faintly. "Now I see why she chose you."
They stood in silence for several more moments, two men—one bound by legacy, the other by fate—watching a world that still breathed quietly between their storms.
Then the king patted Alter's shoulder once more.
"Come. Rest. Your wife is waiting."
Alter gave a soft, tired smile. "She never sleeps well without me."
"And you?" the king asked, turning to go.
"I stopped sleeping centuries ago," Alter replied.
And as the Elven King walked back into the palace shadows, Alter remained by the moonlit edge a moment longer, holding on to serenity just a while longer before returning to the woman who made eternity feel fleeting.
The elven palace had fallen into stillness.
Soft music had long faded from the gardens. The night-blooming lantern lilies had begun to fold. Even the trees, ancient and knowing, swayed with hushed reverence beneath the silver moon.
Inside their guest chamber—etched with living wood, flowing silk canopies, and star-crystal windows—Selene lay nestled in Alter's arms. Her white linen robe clung gently to her frame, hair fanned across his bare chest. One of her legs lay draped across his, her hand resting just over the slow rhythm of his heart.
The world outside was quiet, but her mind wasn't.
"You didn't come back for a while," she murmured against him.
"I spoke with your father," Alter replied softly, his fingers running through her hair. "Just… two men talking about the woman they love."
Selene smiled faintly, eyes still closed. "He didn't challenge you to a duel?"
"He said something worse."
She tilted her head, amused. "Oh?"
"He said he approved."
Selene snorted and buried her face deeper into his chest. "You poor thing."
They both chuckled, and the moment floated in gentle stillness.
After a time, Selene spoke again, voice quieter.
"Tomorrow, we leave."
"Mm," Alter nodded. "The estate is waiting. Your siblings too."
She sighed, her fingers tracing slow circles over his chest. "I could stay like this forever."
"You say that," he teased, "until you realize I can actually make that happen."
She raised her head slightly to look at him.
"Wait—can you?"
He smirked, eyes glinting. "The Still World bends to me. I can freeze time. Suspend it. But…"
"But?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I wouldn't want to trap you here forever." He pulled her in closer, whispering into her hair. "You shine brighter when you're free."
Her breath hitched softly. "…You always say the right thing."
"I had a long time to learn," he murmured.
They lay in silence again. The moonlight streamed through the crystal lattice, illuminating their forms like a painter's dream. Selene eventually lifted herself slightly, resting her chin on his chest.
"Alter?"
"Yes?"
"Promise me something."
He met her gaze.
"Even if the world calls you again. Even if the divine realm rips you away. You'll fight your way back."
"I already promised that."
"No," she said, voice steady. "Promise it again. This time… not as a warrior. Not as a god. Just as my husband."
Alter gently reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingers one by one.
"I swear it," he whispered. "Not even time will keep me from you."
Selene's eyes shimmered. She leaned down and kissed him deeply, her body slowly sliding atop his once more. The blanket shifted as the two found solace in the warmth of each other again—not as warriors, not as sovereigns—but as two souls quietly holding the night at bay.
Outside, the trees whispered gently.
Inside, time no longer mattered.
The morning dew clung to the velvet leaves like tears that had yet to fall. Songbirds trilled their final lullabies across the towering branches of the elven kingdom as the Mythral Dawn entourage prepared for departure.
Selene stood with her sister and mother beneath the emerald archways, their hands entwined one last time. Her mother brushed a strand of silver-blonde hair from Selene's cheek, the queen's voice soft but weighted with emotion. "You've grown stronger, my moonflower. Your light… it reached us even from across continents."
Selene smiled, her heart full yet tugged in both directions. "And now it returns to where it began… beside him."
Her sister leaned in for one final whisper. "Try not to demolish any other kingdoms with your nightly thunderstorms."
Selene flushed scarlet. "Stop it!"
They laughed—just briefly—as the horns of farewell echoed through the crystalline trees.
On the lower terrace, Alter stood before the Elven King. The tall sovereign gave him a respectful nod and extended a sealed scroll. "A formal invitation," he said, "should you ever wish to return… as kin."
"I will," Alter replied, solemnly. "You have my word as Sovereign."
The King studied him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "She shines brighter near you. That is all any father could ask."
Nearby, Finn, Mira, and the rest of the Commanders were already loading Blazebloom's overly ornate saddle onto the wagon. The bear, still licking honey from a ceremonial fruit bowl, gave a muffled hurmph as a vine crown was accidentally placed over his snout. He shook it off indignantly and marched toward the exit like a divine mount summoned for battle. Talia declared dramatically that he needed a bard, and Rhed offered to ride him shirtless for intimidation. Mira nearly hit both of them with a light arrow.
Meanwhile, the male Commanders kept their eyes down as flocks of elven maidens waved goodbye. Finn didn't even look up—Mira was standing directly beside him, arms folded. Her eyes narrowed.
"I. Saw. Everything."
"I didn't even breathe!" Finn defended.
As the gates slowly opened, Selene stepped to Alter's side, her hand slipping naturally into his. She turned for one final look at her home—her childhood, her family… and smiled.
"I'm ready."
Alter nodded once. His draconic presence shimmered faintly beneath the veil of mortal disguise, just enough to make the departing crowd pause in awe. Then, as one unit, the Mythral Dawn and their celestial sovereign began their walk out from the forested kingdom.
Above them, light filtered through trees like scattered fragments of stars.
And behind them, the wind whispered promises of return.