The day had finally come.
The Coral Palace, vast and magnificent in its embrace of sea and stone, pulsed with life as the grand celebration of Princess Eloisa Cera Yekosta Vasiliou began. The air was thick with anticipation, the salt-sweet scent of the sea mingling with the perfume of rare blossoms brought from across Nexus.
Banners of blue and white draped down the coral-carved walls, their embroidered sigils of the sea serpent shimmering beneath the golden glow of a thousand lanterns. Crystal chandeliers, crafted to resemble waves frozen mid-motion, scattered light into dancing ripples that seemed to paint the marble floor with fragments of the ocean. Musicians stood at the sides, their violins and lutes tuned, waiting for the moment the first note would rise.
This was not merely a ball. It was tradition, the kind of tradition etched into the bones of a kingdom. For in Nexus, when a child of the royal blood reached the age of eighteen, they would kneel, vow, and be touched by the sea itself—a rite to bind them to their kingdom and their people.
Guests poured into the palace in waves of silk and velvet. Nobles from Nexus' provinces, foreign dignitaries, merchants, and envoys all mingled beneath the vaulted ceiling. The air was a swirl of voices—greetings, speculations, whispers of political undertones.
At the far end of the hall, the royal dais glittered with white coral inlays. There sat King Stewart, his crown of silver and sapphire gleaming faintly beneath the chandeliers, and Queen Elisha, radiant in a gown of flowing aquamarine silk. Her necklace, a single pearl as large as a dove's egg, rested against her collarbone, catching every flicker of light.
Nearby, the royal siblings stood: Steven and Elijah, dressed identically in white tunics embroidered with blue waves, their youthful eyes full of excitement and mischief; Zuleika, striking in a gown of midnight blue threaded with silver, her crimson eyes restless as she fanned herself idly. And finally, at the center of all anticipation, Eloisa herself, clothed in a dress that stole every breath in the room.
Princess Eloisa's Gown
Her gown was the color of a morning tide, a blue so pale it bordered on white, the silk catching light in every step she took. Layers of chiffon cascaded like water around her, the bodice decorated with delicate embroidery of seashells and corals threaded in silver. Around her shoulders, sheer sleeves billowed gently, and in her hair rested a circlet of tiny pearls braided through her golden locks.
She glowed—no, she radiated. For tonight she was not merely Eloisa, the third daughter of the royal house. Tonight she was the future of Nexus, the embodiment of its grace, and the vessel of its vows.
·__________·
The music swelled, and Eloisa stepped into the center of the ballroom, her cheeks flushed with nerves but her posture flawless.
The first man to step forward was her father. King Stewart offered his hand with the dignity of a ruler and the tenderness of a father.
"May I have this dance, my daughter?"
"You always may," she replied softly, placing her hand in his.
They moved across the polished floor as the orchestra played a stately waltz. Every step was deliberate, a dance not just of celebration but of memory—father and daughter, bound by blood, bound by duty. The King's stern eyes softened as he looked upon Eloisa, and she smiled faintly, her lips trembling as though she might cry.
When the final note of their dance faded, applause erupted across the hall.
Next came Steven, stepping forward with a mischievous grin. "Now, dear sister, it is my turn."
Eloisa laughed, curtsying playfully before taking his hand. Their dance was lighter, faster, with a spark of sibling rivalry. Steven twirled her with exaggerated flourish, drawing laughter from the nobles watching, and Eloisa giggled like a child once more.
Then came Elijah, his expression softer than his twin's, his movements gentler. He did not tease her, but held her with a protective grace. "You've grown so fast, sister" he murmured as they turned across the floor. "Stay the sister I know, even as you become a woman today."
"I'll always be your sister," she whispered back.
When their dance ended, it was time for the fourth. Zuleika strode forward, her gown trailing like a storm cloud, her crimson eyes glinting with mischief.
"Well," she said in a mock-dramatic tone, "as your dearest sister, I must dance as well, or I shall never forgive myself."
"Lei!" Eloisa giggled, though her eyes sparkled with delight.
Their dance was playful, with Zuleika exaggerating every step until Eloisa nearly doubled over in laughter. Yet behind the antics, there was warmth—Zuleika twirled her sister like porcelain, careful not to let her stumble, her hand steady at Eloisa's back.
The crowd applauded again, charmed by the closeness of the royal siblings.
And so the dances continued—other nobles, esteemed guests, and dignitaries taking their turns, each measured by rank and courtesy. But the first four had been the most precious, the ones that would be remembered by Eloisa long after the night faded.
·____________·
The music fell silent. The great bells of the Coral Palace tolled, their deep chimes rolling through the hall like the call of the sea.
Attendants stepped forward, carrying a long white carpet trimmed with sapphire threads, unrolling it from the throne dais to the center of the ballroom. At the end of the carpet, beneath the coral-arched ceiling, a shallow basin carved of crystal was placed, filled with seawater drawn from the kingdom's shores. Its surface shimmered, reflecting the lantern light as though it held fragments of the stars themselves.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Princess Eloisa left the floor for a moment, her attendants guiding her behind a screen. When she emerged, she wore a new gown—a sleeveless white silk dress, pure and unadorned except for the pearl belt at her waist. She seemed less like a girl in finery and more like a vision from the sea, her bare shoulders catching the lantern glow, her hair crowned with a simple braid of silver thread.
She walked forward slowly, barefoot upon the white carpet. Each step was deliberate, measured, as though the weight of her kingdom pressed upon her small frame.
Before the throne, she knelt.
Aquila leaned slightly toward her brother, her silver-violet hair catching the lantern light as her eyes followed the ritual unfolding in the center of the hall. Eloisa knelt gracefully before her father, her gown a cascade of moonlit silk against the marble floor, the hush of the crowd pressing close with reverence.
Aquila's lips curved into a faint frown, her voice lowered to keep from drawing attention.
"Brother… what exactly are they doing?"
Althurd's silver eyes softened as he regarded the scene, then turned to his sister with patience. "This is the vow of coming age, a tradition as old as the waves that guard this kingdom. To the Nexus people, turning eighteen is not simply stepping into adulthood—it is a promise, both to oneself and to the sea that nurtures them. Their King does not merely bless the heir; he asks her to vow loyalty to peace, to family, and to the ocean they believe binds them to life itself."
Aquila tilted her head, still watching as Queen Elisha lifted a vessel of sea-water, the surface glimmering under the golden lights. Her brows furrowed lightly. "And the water?"
Althurd's lips curved into a faint smile. "To them, the ocean is both womb and grave, beginning and end. Pouring its waters upon the princess is their way of returning her to the source—of saying: you were born of these waves, and now you stand as one with them, ready to face the tides of duty."
Aquila's eyes lingered on Eloisa, who bowed her head with quiet dignity as the cool water touched her hair and shoulders. Something stirred faintly within her chest—an unfamiliar pull at the sight of such devotion. Still, her words came out sharper, guarded.
"It feels… too romantic for a duty so heavy."
Althurd chuckled lowly, his gaze still fixed on the ceremony. "Perhaps. But that is why the Nexus endure. Where we wield our crowns like blades, they treat theirs as anchors. Not everyone survives the storm—but some choose to dance with it."
King Stewart rose, descending the dais. His heavy robes trailed behind him as he stepped down to face his daughter. His eyes, usually so unyielding, softened, though his voice carried the weight of centuries.
"Eloisa Cera Yekosta Vasiliou," he intoned, his voice echoing through the chamber, "you stand at the tide of eighteen, where childhood ends and duty begins. You are of the royal blood, chosen by sea and sky alike. Do you vow to guard this kingdom as it has guarded you?"
Eloisa's voice was steady, though her hands trembled against her gown. "I vow."
"Do you vow to wield mercy where others would wield cruelty, and justice where others would wield tyranny?"
"I vow."
"Do you vow to be as constant as the tide, unyielding in loyalty, unbroken by storm?"
"I vow."
The hall was silent, each word sinking into the bones of all who listened. Even the envoys of Feltogora leaned forward, unable to deny the gravity of the ritual.
King Stewart extended his hand. "Rise, daughter of the tide."
Eloisa stood, her gown shimmering faintly like water.
Queen Elisha then stepped forward, carrying a silver ewer shaped like a seashell. With care, she poured seawater over Eloisa's hair, the water cascading down her shoulders like liquid crystal. The droplets caught the lantern light, making her glow with unearthly radiance.
When the last drop had fallen, the Queen leaned down and kissed Eloisa's forehead gently.
"It is done," she whispered.
The hall erupted into applause—not loud and raucous, but reverent, awed, as though each guest had witnessed something sacred. Murmurs rose of "ethereal" and "a blessing from the sea itself." Many bowed their heads, some even wept quietly, touched by the beauty of the vow.
For a single moment, Eloisa seemed not merely a princess, but a vision born of the sea, a living embodiment of Nexus' heart.
Yet, as the applause faded, the Coral Palace remained vast. Nobles hurried forward to offer congratulations, musicians prepared to strike up a new song, and servants bustled to prepare the feast. The air swelled with celebration—but not all were where they were meant to be.
For in another wing of the palace, far from the ballroom, Princess Zuleika walked a separate path, unaware that her steps would soon converge with those of a silver-eyed princess who was yet her enemy.
But not tonight. Not yet.
Tonight belonged to Eloisa—the tide, the vow, and the sea.