Ch 3.1 - A Moon in Bloom

Nestled in the embrace of the oldest Alborian trees, whose towering trunks reached higher than the clouds and whose leaves shimmered fluorescent blue hues, was Elarion Glade, located just north of Yal Elunore and east of the great Ether Tree, the colossal heart of Skyland. In all of Skyland, the Ether felt most alive here. With a presence as conscious as any mind, its pulses hummed through bark, soil, water, wind, and all living things, flowing through the air like living silk.

This place was sacred not only because of its proximity to the Ether Tree, but because it was home to the Nyxes, the Ether Tree's offspring created in reaction to the chaos caused by the Great Catastrophe. When Eldian pride fractured the world's balance, the Ether Tree reacted, giving birth to new guardian in order to protect it from the corruption spreading through the land. These guardians were stewards of harmony, protectors of nature, and balance keepers, sculpted from the might of Eldians and the essence of Skyland's wild life.

High above the forest floor, the village of Elarion extended along the canopy. Its homes, woven pods of bark, leaves, and vines, nestled among Alborian boughs, perfectly positioned for watchful eyes and Bridges of woven lightwood connecting the structural platforms where druids worked alongside, herbalists prepared remedies, and sentinels protected the distant horizon.

There was harmony among these houses perched atop trees. Nymble-tails, with their long glowing tails, darted between hanging vines. The large Syrends with glistering fur coats, sat close to the hallowed shimmerpools and above, Cacatuids with golden feathers flitted in the wind, illuminating the sky with their rays as other bird species filled the air with their music. Both Fwllings and Nyxes cared for the roots and whispered sigils into the bark. The cycle was served by all present. Everyone here served the cycle. Everyone had a purpose, a duty, a calling...

"Ah... oh, yes, like that! Wait, was it Kaela or Mara?"

A giggle. "It's Trixy, and she's Nala, feather-brain!"

"Oh! That's what I said!"

...Okay. Perhaps not everyone.

Inside a rounded wooden pod on the glade's eastern edge, one notably popular among visiting females, moans gave way to giggles as a pair of Fwlling girls pulled their tunics over flushed faces. In the middle, a Nyx lay languidly on a huge bedding nest of furs, stitched feathers, and thick tuftmoss, grinning like a painter who had just finished their masterpiece.

"Trixy, Nala," he said, bowed mockingly from the bed. "Skyland's finest moon blossoms."

Trixy gave an eye roll. "Ugh, Flint, you're lucky to be cute."

Meanwhile Nala blew a kiss at him. "And lucky you've got... stamina."

They laughed and disappeared through the vine-curtained door.

This bubbly, lazy guardian Nyx, whose reputation among the Glade's female population was only rivaled by his inflated sense of charm, was Flint.

Bright orange feathers ran through his silver-blond hair like threads of sunfire silk, and he stretched, flexing his toned chest as he sighed contentedly. Long golden feathers glistened at his collarbones, gleaming as though polished copper had been kissed by morning dew. Puffed and fine, almost fur-like in texture, they layered delicately like a soft mantle. Behind his pointed ears, a few tufts curled.

From the waist down, his form became something more than Eldian, his hips and legs were wrapped in fine, overlapping feathers, blending flesh with plumage until his lower half resembled that of a sleek raptor. He walked with the kind of practiced care that came from knowing just how dangerous his sharp talons could be with every step, tapping cautiously and gracefully against the wooden floor.

Eight long, bright orange plumes that tapered into graceful arcs and were wide at the base sprang from his upper back. They resembled living banners that flared out when he stretched, catching the Etherlight and dispersing it in warm glimmers, but they weren't quite tail feathers. They somehow gave him a taller, wilder, and more flamboyant appearance.

He got up and strode over to his most valuable possession, a bronze mirror set in a carved driftwood ring. He smiled, ran his fingers through his hair, and combed it back into a crest blown by the wind. He winked at his reflection and muttered, "I still got it."

He put on his green trousers, which were loose at the knees and tight at the waist, with a few decorative belts buckled. He wore a silver-chained collar with acute Myr shards that glinted with latent Ether, but never a top.

He slung himself down a vine rope, ruffled his feathers, spun dramatically, and landed on a walkway with theatrical grace.

"Morning, ladies!" he called to a group of Nyx women plucking fruit from glowing vines.

One girl giggled. "Already spreading your feathers, Flint?"

"Only for the worthy!" he replied, flexing his muscles.

Another one rolled her eyes. "He's impossible."

"...But kind of perfect," a third whispered.

He blew a kiss and strutted along the bridge as if Skyland itself had made it just for his claws.

Below him, Elarion Glade spread out in swells of color and vitality. Wisps of Ether wind carried lanterns. In a vast web of green and blue, treetop homes arose like blossoms. Druids knelt next to sap wells that were bubbling. Some Nyxes meditated in stone circles, while a group of rookie Nyxes practiced defensive glides between branches.

Someone moved with quiet care along one quiet path, next to a stream that shimmered and a thicket of curling leaves, her fingers working the moss with the rhythmic practice of someone who knew how to listen. The Ether clung to the gesture, pulsing faintly around her.

Flint's assured stride slowed.

Her hands were steady and precise as she knelt down in the moss, brushing rot from a wilting moonshine flower. In the dappled Etherlight, her curly ginger hair glowed softly, with hints of autumn flame kissing each ringlet. Her lips formed a delicate smile, and her cheeks were naturally flushed, with a pattern of freckles that appeared to have been hand-painted on them. Wearing a gown of green silk and woven Ether leaves that clung to her elegant and slender figure like living fabric. From her forehead grew two tiny horns, thin and branching like young saplings, moving softly in the wind as though the wind would not disturb them. Her furred deer legs were folded beneath her, ending in dainty hooves, and a tiny, soft tail twitched every now and then. She looked like the forest's soul had shaped her for itself.

"Hey, Myri! You're up early," Flint smirked lazily as he strode closer and called out. 

Without looking up, she rearranged a bulky pouch on her shoulder and inspected the blooms surrounding her. "That's the second Moonshine Bloom that didn't blossom this season," she muttered, caressing a curled petal with her thumb.

He knelt next to her and teased, "If you keep looking at that flower like that, someone might think you're a bee."

Myri look at Flint as if scanning him, "You might be mistaken for someone who works if you keep swooping in like that," she said bluntly.

"Ouch," he said while gripping his chest "That hurts, little antlers."

"Flint, What are you even doing here?" she asked with a frown "You're supposed to be guarding the Ether Tree with the rest of your post, not charming your way into every girl's pouch in a ten-branch radius."

"Hey freckles, I provide joy," he replied, striking a dramatic pose. "A valuable service in these troubled times"

Myri huffed, shifting her weight as she tried to lift three bulging pouches of herbs that were slung at her sides. Flint stepped in and snatched up two of them, slinging them onto his shoulders as if they were weightless. 

"See? Helpful," He said with a gesture of mock heroism while ruffling his feathers. "Besides, they've got everything under control. If they ever need me, I'll be there in a flash, charm, feathers, and all."

However, Myri persisted. "Yes, exactly. Flint, you're a Dawnbind. Instead of throwing winks and feathers at every skirt that passes by, you should be going about your rounds, examining Ether flows, monitoring pulse vines, and tracking corrupted sprouts. The rhythm of the Ether is shifting, and instead of—"

Her voice continued to rise quickly and firmly, but Flint was not paying attention. His eyes had strayed to her lips, the gentle way they moved when she became agitated. like the wind rustling the petals of a cherry. Her horns' tilt perfectly captured the morning light, and her freckles danced with each word.

"... you're out here thinking with your tail feathers instead of doing your job."

"Huh?" Flint caught the essence of the moment but missed half of it as he blinked back into it.

He smiled and said, "You know, you're still ridiculously cute for someone who nags as much as you breathe."

Myri rolled her eyes and groaned.

However, Flint continued to use his endearing words. "I mean the freckles. The curls. The horns. You're like a poem written by Skyland."

She didn't smile. ""This is a serious matter. Something feels off. Do you not sense it?

On that, Flint stopped, scowled, and shut his eyes. As if catching something far away on the wind, his feathers fluttered and stirred. His face flashed with a rare but familiar seriousness. He appeared to feel something for a brief moment.

With hope, Myri waited and said, "Well…?"

Then his eyes peeked open. "Nah. I think the forest's just lazy today."

Myri groaned again but louder.

"Come on, Myri. You worry too much," With a relaxed tone and a crooked smile, Flint said, "Two missed blooms doesn't mean the Ether Tree is dying."

As she adjusted the pouches over her shoulder, she yelled, "You always have to 'Flint' things up."

"Obviously. I have a charming personality." He said, "Who doesn't like Flint?" with a big smile, proudly puffing his feathers and flexing his arms just enough to show it.

Smiling, Flint leaned in closer, raising both eyebrows in a playful manner. "You know, in two days it'll be the 36th Dawn Festival. I figured you might want to come with me and unwind a little."

Myri frowned and slowed. "The Dawn Festival? You're actually going?"

"Of course. He said, spinning in place with his arms spread wide, "I am the best part of it."

She looked away, while adjusting her pouch's strap.She spoke in a hesitant, softer tone "I thought you hated it... especially with the anniversary coming up." As her eyes fell to the path, her brows furrowed slightly and her lips formed a thin line, as if she had come too close to an open scar.

Flint stopped in his tracks as the light behind his eyes faded. "Myri... Don't."

Her voice grew softer as she paused."I'm sorry Flint... I just thought…"

But he dismissed it, saying with artificial brightness, "Life is short." "You might as well have fun. Come on, say yes, Just for one evening. You won't die from a little fun."

Myri hesitated only a second more before gathering her pouches once more. "Yeah… I'll give it some thought."

The aroma of rosemary and moss followed her as she left.

With his hands on his hips and a crooked smile and a distorted head shake, Flint chuckled to himself as he watched her leave. "She's so into me" Muttering to himself.

As Myri disappeared from view, a low, drawn-out sound echoed across the air…

Hrooooom.

A familiar call from a wind instrument, signaling the village that visitors were approaching.

Flint's ears perked. "Oho? Finally, something interesting?"