Crown of Frost & shadows

Chapter 10 – The Setting Sun

Alarielle followed Mavrick out of the small house, her gaze drifting across the village. It was unlike any place she had seen before. The homes, not just houses, were nestled close together, each one adorned in its own unique way—bright flowers trailing down wooden beams, intricate carvings lining doorways, wind chimes made from shells and crystals dancing in the breeze. It felt lived-in, cherished, and loved.

As they walked, the cheerful sound of laughter filled the air. A group of elfling children were playing some kind of magical game, tossing a glowing ball between them with bursts of energy that crackled with light. They giggled and chased one another through the streets, their magic seamlessly blending with their play, as though it were as natural as breathing.

Alarielle's heart softened at the sight, a moment of peace washing over her.

Nobody they met, looked at Alarielle as if she were some kind of disease, unlike the treatment she had received in other places. Instead, the elves who passed by smiled warmly and greeted her as if she were the most natural thing in the world. Their acceptance felt almost surreal. She wasn't used to such easy kindness; especially given the tension she'd felt among her own kind and others in the past.

It was a strange but comforting sensation, this village filled with warmth and magic, where no one seemed to care about the scars she carried or the mysteries surrounding her. It was as if, here, she could belong—if only for a fleeting moment.

"Until I woke up today, in your house, I had no idea elves existed. I thought it was a myth," Alarielle said softly, her voice tinged with awe.

Mavrick chuckled lightly as they strolled through the vibrant village. "We tend to keep to ourselves these days. In the old times, we were more involved in the world, but now... well, myths are a comfortable place for us to be."

Alarielle glanced around at the children playing, the serene faces of the villagers, the gentle hum of magic in the air. It was difficult to imagine how such a place, so full of life, could ever be forgotten or relegated to legend.

"Why hide?" she asked, curiosity growing with every step.

Mavrick's face grew a little more serious, though his tone remained calm. "The world outside became... complicated. Wars, power struggles, the kind of chaos that never seems to end. We chose to protect what we had, in our own way. To live in peace rather than be dragged into the affairs of others."

Alarielle nodded slowly,

"One more time!" a little girl's voice, full of laughter, rang out near a small flower shop. Alarielle turned toward the sound and saw two tall figures. Ralkov was playfully tossing the elfling into the air, her giggles filling the air. Each time she squealed for "more," a small chuckle escaped him, his normally serious face softened by the joy of the moment.

Beside him, leaning casually against the wall, stood Zār. His arms were crossed, and though his demeanor was still composed, one corner of his lips lifted into what seemed to be the ghost of a smile. For a moment, Alarielle stood there, watching the scene, captivated by the lightness in the air. It was a rare sight to see them like this—Ralkov, who always appeared so stern, and Zār, whose expression seemed forever cold.

She found herself wondering how Zār would look if he truly smiled or laughed. Would his eyes crinkle with warmth? Would the brightness of his silver eyes intensify? Would there be dimples deepening in his cheeks as his usually guarded expression softened completely? The thought lingered in her mind, and for reasons she couldn't quite grasp, her chest tightened at the image.

As if sensing her gaze, Zār's silver eyes shifted towards Alarielle, locking onto hers. The suddenness of his attention made her heart skip a beat, and a wave of warmth crept up her cheeks. Realizing she had been caught staring, she quickly averted her eyes, trying to focus on Ralkov instead.

Ralkov, now having set the little girl down, ruffled her hair gently as she ran off to play elsewhere. His relaxed demeanor shifted slightly, noticing Alarielle's presence. He gave her a polite nod, but it was Zār's gaze that lingered, as if still holding onto that brief moment of connection.

Alarielle fidgeted slightly, still feeling the heat in her cheeks. She glanced back toward Zār, only to find him watching her, his expression unreadable,

"Everybody in this village loves it when they come here, especially Ralkov," Mavrick said with a fond smile, his gaze briefly shifting to the tall figure of Ralkov. "Whenever he visits, he always helps out in some way. Once, a storm destroyed half the houses in the village. We had to rebuild everything, and Ralkov happened to be passing by during that time. He ended up helping build half the homes in this area."

Alarielle glanced at Ralkov again, surprised. It was hard to picture the demon who traveled with a hardened warrior like Zār spending time rebuilding homes for elves. There was something deeply comforting about the way Mavrick spoke of him—like he was part of the village, not just a passing outsider.

"He's got a good heart," Mavrick continued, "though he might not always show it. The village children adore him." He chuckled as he recalled the little girl from earlier. "And he's always been good with the little ones."

"What about Zār?" Alarielle couldn't help but ask as they resumed walking, still feeling the lingering weight of Zār's stare on her back.

Mavrick chuckled softly. "Ah, Zārok has grown from the little boy who used to run around here, trailing after Ralkov and Meara."

"Meara?" Alarielle asked, curiosity piqued.

"My eldest daughter," Mavrick explained, his voice warm with pride. "And Ralkov's mate."

Alarielle's eyes widened in surprise. "Ralkov's mate is an Elf?"

"Not quite," Mavrick corrected gently. "Half-elf. My mate was a demon."

Alarielle's mind raced at the revelation. The blending of demon and elf blood wasn't something she had ever considered possible, and yet here was Mavrick, speaking of it so casually. The image of the seemingly gentle and helpful Ralkov now carried an entirely new depth.

"I never knew demons and elves could…" She trailed off, unsure how to phrase her thought.

Mavrick smiled. "Love doesn't care for boundaries, child. Neither should we."

"So… you're Ravareth's grandfather?" Alarielle asked, piecing together the family connections.

"Yes," Mavrick replied with a nod, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and amusement. "Ravareth is my grandson."

Alarielle smiled softly."Wait, so you must be very old," she blurted out without thinking.

"I believe so," Mavrick replied with a soft chuckle.

"Are Elves immortal?" Alarielle asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Not all of them," he said, shaking his head. "Do you know how a mate bond works?"

"No... It's not normal for fae to find mates anymore. For us, it's mostly just marriage, so I never had the opportunity to talk or discuss it," Alarielle admitted.

"Ah, yes. Here in this realm, mates are quite common, even now. The mate bond is a blessing. If your mate is immortal, you gain the same ability after the mating is complete," Mavrick explained.

"But you spoke of your mate in the past tense?" Alarielle inquired, a hint of concern in her voice.

"My mate is still alive, just not among us," he replied, his tone somber. "She is imprisoned by a disease that has eaten away at her mind. She doesn't even recognize people anymore, but sometimes, for brief moments, she does."

"So she doesn't live here?" Alarielle asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

"She does," Mavrick replied, his expression heavy with sorrow. "But we have to keep her locked up. She tends to attack people when she's having one of those days—what we call the blood hunger."

Alarielle fell silent for a moment, contemplating the weight of his words. "I'm sorry; it must be awful to look at someone you love and have them not even recognize you."

Mavrick studied her intently. "You speak as if you've felt it."

"Yes," she admitted softly. "Once. A similar kind of disease."

"Someone you love?" he probed gently.

"Someone who was like my father," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mavrick looked at her for a moment but didn't press further, as if sensing the weight of her emotions.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat as he shifted the conversation, "come, I want to show you something."

He gestured for Alarielle to follow him down a narrow path lined with blooming flowers and soft, glowing orbs of light floating gently above the ground. Alarielle fell into step beside him, her curiosity piqued.

They walked through a lush garden bursting with greenery. Alarielle marveled at the vibrant colors and sweet fragrances that filled the air. In the center of the garden stood a massive tree, its trunk broad and sturdy, with branches that stretched high into the sky. Small lights flickered like fireflies amidst the leaves, illuminating the tree's rich foliage and highlighting clusters of luminous fruits that glowed softly in shades of gold and silver. The scene felt almost magical, as if the very essence of the garden was alive and breathing around them.

"This place is beautiful! And this tree… What is it? The fruits seem to glow," Alarielle said in awe, stepping closer to the magnificent tree that stood in the center of the garden.

Mavrick smiled at her enthusiasm. "Ah, this is the Lumina Tree. Its fruits are known as Glimmer Pears. They absorb sunlight during the day and emit a soft glow at night. The elves believe they hold a bit of magic within them."

Alarielle reached out, fascinated by the shimmering fruits. "Can we eat them?"

"Of course! They're quite delicious," he replied, plucking one from the branch and handing it to her. "Just take a bite, and you'll see."

With a mix of curiosity and excitement, Alarielle took a bite, the sweet flavor bursting in her mouth. "This is amazing!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "I've never tasted anything like it."

Mavrick chuckled, pleased to see her enjoyment. "Many say it's a taste of joy, a little piece of magic in every bite."

"Come," Mavrick said, walking around the tree. Alarielle followed him, curiosity bubbling inside her. As they reached the other side, she saw a cut-down trunk lying there, its surface weathered and worn.

"Do you see anything on that stump?" Mavrick asked, his voice steady.

Alarielle stepped closer, examining the stump more closely. That's when she noticed it—the intricate design etched into the wood, a pattern identical to the pendant now tattooed on her skin.

Her breath caught in her throat. "It's the same as my necklace!" she exclaimed, tracing the lines with her fingers. "What does it mean?"

"It's the mark of Goddess Nythera, the goddess of night and stars," Mavrick explained, his voice filled with reverence.

Alarielle thought back to what Iliana had said about Nythera before she had woken up. "What is that doing here?"

"Long ago, these realms were one single realm, ruled by two siblings: Solarius, the god of sun and daylight, and Nythera, the goddess of night and stars. Marks of their existence can be found in different realms now, and one, I believe, is now etched into your skin. It's rather interesting what that mark of yours might reveal over time," Mavrick continued, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

"What did this one reveal?" Alarielle asked, pointing at the stump.

"That, I don't know, dear. That was long before my time," Mavrick replied, his tone thoughtful.

"Master Mavrick! The ritual is about to start!" a young elf exclaimed, rushing toward them.

"Eddie sent me to get you and miss."

"Miss?" Alarielle raised an eyebrow at the young elf, who had striking white hair and bright blue eyes. A blush crept onto his cheeks at her question.

"I didn't mean to offend!" he stammered, fidgeting nervously under her gaze.

Mavrick chuckled softly, his amusement evident. "No offense taken, young one. Alarielle is indeed a miss, though I suspect she's not used to being addressed so formally."

"Right, of course," the elf said, regaining his composure. "I just thought it polite. Come on, we have to hurry!"

Alarielle glanced at Mavrick, her curiosity piqued. "What kind of ritual is it?"

"The Setting Sun Ritual," Mavrick replied, a hint of reverence in his tone. "It's a ceremony where we honor the cycle of day and night, acknowledging the balance of light and dark. We express gratitude for the blessings of the day and prepare for the night ahead."

"Is it a big event?" Alarielle asked, trying to absorb every detail.

"Very much so," Mavrick said with a nod. "Everyone in the village participates, and there are songs, dances, and offerings made to Nythera, the goddess of the night."

"You mean this ritual happens every day?" Alarielle asked, trying to wrap her head around the idea.

Mavrick nodded gently. " Two sunsets are never the same. Each day holds its own significance and beauty, and we honor those moments with the ritual. It's a celebration of the unique gifts that each sunset brings."

As they approached the gathering area, Alarielle could see other elves beginning to assemble, their faces aglow with excitement and anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the sounds of laughter, making her heart race. It was a stark contrast to her last experience among a crowd, where hostility and disdain had surrounded her.

Now, she felt an unfamiliar warmth envelop her, as if the very essence of the gathering was welcoming her. She glanced at Mavrick, who moved with an ease that spoke of familiarity, and for a moment, her apprehension melted away.

"Ellie!" Malrek's voice rang out from the crowd as he spotted her, running toward her with what appeared to be a clear bag filled with water and a fish swimming inside. His face was bright with a smile, a picture of uncontained excitement.

Ravareth followed a few paces behind, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he watched Malrek.

"What's that?" she asked, laughter bubbling in her voice as she pointed to the bag.

"Look! I caught it during the fishing game!" Malrek exclaimed, holding the bag up triumphantly. "Isn't it amazing? I named it Finny!"

"Fishing game?" Alarielle asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Every day before the Setting Sun Ritual, they gather to see who can catch the most fish from a tank. It's great fun!" Malrek explained, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Ravareth stepped forward, crossing his arms with a grin. "And Malrek here is determined to catch the biggest one, as you can see. Finny was his biggest triumph today."

"Yeah!" Malrek declared, puffing out his chest with pride. "I even beat Ralkov! He caught a small one, but mine is the biggest of the day!"

Alarielle laughed, the sound bright and genuine, her heartwarming further at the infectious enthusiasm of Malrek. "You should be proud! Finny looks like a champion."

"Thank you! I'll take care of him," Malrek promised, his voice earnest.

"It's not going to survive more than a day," Zār remarked, appearing behind Ravareth as if he had materialized from thin air.

A muscle twitched at Alarielle's jaw. "You have got to stop doing that. Has nobody informed you that you're, in fact, not a ghost?" she shot back, narrowing her eyes at him.

Zār narrowed his eyes back at her, "I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you for saving me,'"

"Oh my dear lord, thank you for not letting me die! How can I ever repay your debt?" Alarielle retorted, sarcasm lacing her words.

"There are plenty of ways you could repay me," the demon replied, his expression bored but a glint in his eyes suggested otherwise. For a moment, Alarielle got lost in those depths, and she felt as if he knew it too, as the corners of his lips twitched.

Alarielle shook her head, shaking off the distraction. "Can we talk?" she asked in a more serious tone.

Zār c****d his head. "About what?"

Before Alarielle could respond, a venomous voice laced with hatred interrupted them. "The snake didn't die, it seems."

Alarielle's eyes darted toward Magra, whose red ones glinted with malice. "No, but it could definitely bite your head off if you get any closer."

"Stay away from me, Magra. I don't care who gave you what order. Stay. Away. From. Me." Flashbacks of the whip shot through her mind, her heart racing and her back straightening at the phantom sensation of it.

Alarielle looked at Zār, gritting her teeth. "Please. Keep her away from me. I don't want trouble. I'll even wear those chains if it means you can…" She swallowed hard, struggling to finish the thought.

Zār's expression shifted, the glint in his eyes sharpening as he assessed the situation. "You don't have to do that, Magra won't come near you."

Magra rolled her eyes and stepped closer to Zār. "Will you sit with me at the ritual? Just like last time?" she asked, her voice laced with an unnerving sweetness that nearly made Alarielle choke.

Zār's gaze remained fixed on Alarielle. "I'm going to sit with Ralkov. I'm sure you'll find someone to sit with," he replied coolly.

Something like hurt flashed across Magra's face before she shot Alarielle a furious glance and turned away, stalking off into the crowd.

"Are you guys a thing?" Alarielle asked, her curiosity bubbling over.

A choking noise escaped from Ravareth before he coughed and quickly looked away. Malrek giggled, clearly enjoying the moment.

Zār narrowed his eyes at Alarielle, his tone sharp. "That's none of your business," he bit out before turning around, his posture stiff with annoyance.

Alarielle felt a pang of regret at her question, but she was also intrigued. "You could just say no, you know. It doesn't have to be a big deal, I didn't mean to intrude", she offered.

Zār walked away without a response.

"They aren't a thing and will never be, not that Magra doesn't try." Malrek chimed in, his eyes bright with mischief. "If he makes her my sister-in-law, I'll make sure to never speak to him again."

"Why?" Alarielle asked, intrigued by the dynamics.

"I don't like her. She's mean, just like Thalorin. Maybe they both can be together," Malrek said, glancing down at his fish.

"No, don't say that! The world doesn't need those two mating. I'm sure it would be some kind of evil omen or something," Ravareth added, scrunching up his face in disgust.

Alarielle couldn't help but laugh. It was the first time she had laughed in years, and it felt strange—like an out-of-body experience.

"You look beautiful when you laugh," Ravareth said, his gaze on her holding an odd intensity that made a blush creep onto her cheeks.

"Let's go sit, or we won't get good seats!" Malrek exclaimed, taking her hand and leading her toward the gathering area.

As they approached, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement, the energy palpable. Alarielle felt a warmth enveloping her.