Elven magic

A hush fell over the gathering as Elder Lyra stepped forward. Dressed in flowing robes of deep emerald, embroidered with silver thread, she carried an air of authority that made even the most restless elves still themselves.

Her silver hair, unbound and shimmering under the moonlight, cascaded down her back, adding to her ethereal presence.

Ash knelt beside Naya and Lira, feeling the weight of the moment settle over him. He didn't fully understand the significance of what was about to happen, but the reverence in the air was undeniable.

Lyra, with the scared book in one hand, and the other palm facing upward, she began to chant in a language Ash didn't recognize. The words were ancient, flowing like water, each syllable carrying a strange, melodic resonance.

The crowd remained perfectly still, not a whisper, not a rustle of fabric breaking the silence. The only sound was her voice, weaving through the night like an incantation.

Then, as the final syllable left her lips, the world changed.

A sudden gust of wind tore through the gathering, whipping Ash's hair into his face. The air around them felt charged, like the crackling energy before a storm. Then—light.

A brilliant, almost blinding glow erupted around the volunteer at the center of the gathering. She stood on a raised stone dais, her form barely visible through the swirling radiance. A shimmering dome of energy encased her, pulsing with a rhythm that seemed almost alive.

Ash squinted against the brightness, instinct telling him to look away. But he couldn't—he was transfixed.

The woman within the dome trembled, her body rigid as if an immense force pressed down on her.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream at first, then a real one—a sound so raw and filled with pain that it sent a chill down Ash's spine. He wanted to move, to do something, but Naya placed a firm hand on his arm.

"She's strong," she murmured. "She can handle it."

Despite the reassurance, Ash found himself clenching his fists. The process was clearly excruciating, but no one intervened. Instead, the elves—those who had seen this before—began to hum.

It was soft at first, barely audible over the woman's cries, but it grew, harmonizing into something hauntingly beautiful. The melody wasn't random; it had structure, a pattern, as if they were guiding the energy rather than simply observing.

Ash's attention snapped back to the dome. Something was happening inside.

A swirling mass of golden light had detached from the woman's chest, hovering just above her trembling body. It pulsed, then began to spin, faster and faster, shaping itself into something tangible.

It shrank, then expanded, then shrank again.

And then, all at once, the light shifted.

A tiny form emerged from the glowing mass—a small, elvish figure, its body curled in on itself. It hovered in the air, its translucent skin still radiating a soft golden glow.

Ash's breath caught.

It was… a baby.

A newborn, but not in the way humans were born. No blood, no physical birth—just raw energy molded into life.

The mother let out one final, pained gasp before the light around her vanished.

The dome shattered like glass dissolving into mist, and she collapsed. Her once-full figure had thinned slightly, her skin pale from the toll the process had taken.

Yet, even in exhaustion, she turned her gaze upward. Her eyes searched for the infant.

The baby still hovered in the air, small and delicate, barely larger than a human newborn. Despite its size, there was something oddly aware about it, as if it already understood the world in ways Ash couldn't comprehend.

Elder Lyra stepped forward and carefully reached out, cradling the infant in her arms.

For the first time since the ceremony had begun, she smiled.

The baby responded, letting out a soft laugh—not a cry, but an actual laugh, as though it had already found joy in the world.

Lyra turned to the exhausted mother, kneeling beside her. "What shall she be called?"

The woman's breath was heavy, her voice weak, but she managed a single word.

"Iva."

A ripple of joy spread through the crowd. A new sister had been born.

The elves cheered, their earlier restraint breaking into warm celebration. Ash watched, still processing what he had just witnessed.

His mind raced with comparisons to human childbirth—the pain, the fragility, the struggle. Yet, this was entirely different. It was creation in its purest form, a process that stripped the mother of her energy rather than her body.

It was beautiful.

It was terrifying.

As the ceremony came to an end, Ash followed Naya and Lira as they turned to leave. The excitement still buzzed in the air, but something lingered in his mind.

"The Queen," he muttered. "Why wasn't she here?"

Naya frowned, exchanging a look with her sister.

"She's always been here," Lira said, her voice unusually serious. "For centuries. She's never missed a birth."

Ash felt a chill crawl up his spine.

Then why now?

They continued their walk home, discussing possibilities—was she unwell? Was something happening behind the scenes? The unease in their voices was evident.

But then, as they neared the cottage, they saw someone waiting.

Aria.

She stood outside, arms crossed, her expression dark. The usual warmth in her gaze was absent, replaced with something troubled.

Ash immediately knew something was wrong.

Lira's cheerful demeanor faltered. "Aria?"

Naya stepped forward. "What's wrong?"

Aria barely glanced at them. "Uhhh... I'm fine... I'm here for Ash," she said flatly. "We need to leave."

The tension in her voice sent a spike of unease through Ash. He glanced at Naya and Lira, who exchanged worried looks.

"You just got here," Lira pouted. "Can't you stay a little longer?"

Aria shook her head. "No. We have to go."

Lira sighed dramatically before stepping forward, wrapping Ash in a warm hug. "See you tomorrow?"

Ash hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. I'd like that."

With a final squeeze, she let go.

Aria didn't say another word as she turned and walked away, expecting Ash to follow.

As he did, he stole one last glance at Naya and Lira before turning his attention back to Aria.

Something was very wrong.

And whatever it was, he'd find out soon enough.