Nyx didn’t hesitate.

  With everyone watching—every stare weighed with suspicion, curiosity, or both—she reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out a small, worn book.

  She held it gently, almost with reverence, as if it were something precious.

  Then, without a word, she stepped forward and offered it to Queen Valenya.

  The Queen took it with a quiet hum, her expression unreadable.

  She didn’t flip through it carelessly.

  She started at the beginning.

  And she read.

  Page after page.

  Line after line.

  No interruptions. No glances at her court. No reaction to the growing whispers that filled the room like smoke.

  She was reading it for what it was. Not who it came from.

  The room had gone quiet again.

  Every eye now flicked between the Queen and the girl beside her daughter.

  The human.

  The one who supposedly had no place here.

  And yet—

  Valenya’s gaze moved slowly down each detail, her fingertips tracing the edges of the page as she absorbed every word.

  There were no enchantments in the book. No sigils or complex arrays.

  Just clear writing and a plan that had been built with intention.

  Nyx’s design for the ceremony—the Radiant Masquerade—was built around a single idea:

  “A Vision of Living Beauty.”

  Not just a performance. Not just decoration.

  An experience.

  A celebration of beauty made by hand, not magic.

  The color palette alone was enough to catch attention:

  Iridescent gold. Sapphire blue. Pearl white. Lavender. Emerald green. Rose and silver.

  They weren’t just colors.

  They were meant to shift with light. To feel alive.

  She planned walkways lit by soft candlelight and scattered with reflective stones, giving the illusion of stars underfoot.

  Menus and signs would be painted in flowing gold calligraphy, elegant and readable to both elves and outsiders.

  Guests would wear handmade masks, designed by local elven artisans—every one unique.

  There would be silk banners strung across open courtyards, walls of fresh flowers, and floating crystal lanterns that refracted sunlight like gentle halos.

  Photo corners were built into the design, meant for portraits against intricate floral backdrops and glowing crystal arches.

  The food was just as intentional.

  Dishes that didn’t just taste good—but looked like art.

  ?Stuffed moonleaf wraps arranged like blooming petals.

  ?Blossom-steamed fish served over golden rice and seasoned herbs.

  ?Gemfruit skewers glistening with a honey glaze.

  The dessert menu read like something from a dream:

  ?Starfall tarts filled with cream and edible shimmer.

  ?Petal cakes layered with fruit and thin floral frosting.

  ?Glazed crystal candy, sculpted to mimic real gemstones.

  And drinks:

  ?Starlight nectar for everyone.

  ?Moonrose elixir, light and floral.

  ?And for the older guests, Gilded Spark—a fizzy gold-hued wine served in polished crystal flutes.

  All of it was coordinated. Thought through. Curated.

  Not just to impress—but to move.

  The Queen’s silence lasted longer than expected.

  When she finally looked up from the last page, she didn’t speak right away.

  She looked at Nyx.

  Really looked.

  And smiled.

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  Not politely. Not for show.

  A genuine smile.

  Warm and thoughtful.

  “I’m very impressed,” she said gently.

  Nyx blinked. “You are?”

  Valenya nodded. “Impressed….indeed.”

  She handed the book back carefully, as though it were something delicate.

  “Your vision is exquisite. Purposeful. Grounded in culture and feeling. It doesn’t rely on spectacle or illusion—it invites people into something real.”

  The murmurs in the room softened.

  Some of the stares began to shift—from suspicion to something closer to consideration.

  Nyx said nothing.

  Not because she didn’t have words.

  But because, for once, she didn’t need them.

  Her work had already spoken for her.

  The room remained silent.

  No one dared to speak, not until the Queen herself did.

  And she had made her decision.

  “We’ll use these plans,” Queen Valenya said simply, her voice calm but firm. “Since ours are missing at the moment.”

  The silence shattered.

  Gasps echoed through the hall—sharp, scattered, disbelieving.

  No one moved. But the tension was thick.

  They didn’t want to disobey the Queen. That wasn’t an option.

  But they also couldn’t accept it.

  Not this easily.

  One of the planners finally stepped forward, bowing slightly. His voice was careful, but edged with protest.

  “My Queen… we appreciate that this is one of a kind. Truly. But…” He hesitated. “She’s a human. She doesn’t understand what it means to create a ceremony meant for elves.”

  More murmurs. Doubts whispered behind closed lips.

  They didn’t want to say it out loud, but it hung in the air anyway—

  This girl doesn’t belong here.

  Queen Valenya didn’t flinch.

  Her tone remained just as even as before. But it carried a weight that silenced the room.

  “I’ve decided to use Nyx—the human girl with silver hair—and her plan for the festival.”

  One of the nobles spoke again, slower this time. “But my Queen… she’s human. You can’t possibly think—”

  He didn’t finish.

  The Queen turned her gaze on him, calm but piercing. “Are you questioning my decision?”

  The silence that followed was immediate.

  The man bowed his head quickly. “No, my Queen. We’ll… we’ll get everything prepared.”

  His voice had lost all strength.

  There was nothing more to say.

  Valenya stepped forward, handing the plan back to the head coordinator.

  She looked at Nyx one last time, her expression softer now.

  “I look forward to seeing what you’ve created.”

  Then she turned and left—without fanfare, without hesitation. The gentle sweep of her robes the only sound as the doors quietly shut behind her.

  As soon as the Queen was gone, Lorienna exploded.

  “Did you see that, Nyx?! We get to help out with the festival!” she squealed, practically bouncing in place.

  Before Nyx could say a word, Lorienna threw her arms around her in a sudden, aggressive hug—squeezing her tightly and rubbing her cheek against Nyx’s face with zero restraint.

  Nyx’s eye twitched.

  She didn’t return the hug.

  But she didn’t push her away either.

  “Get. Off,” she muttered under her breath.

  Lorienna only squealed louder.

  Around them, the mood had shifted.

  Grudgingly, reluctantly, the elves moved. Their steps were slower than usual. Their voices low and clipped.

  No one dared speak against the Queen again.

  But it was clear.

  They weren’t happy.

  Still, they began to gather the supplies, call in the artisans, and sketch out the setup.

  They were following Nyx’s plan.

  Whether they liked it or not.

  And so, the festival began to take shape—born from the hands of the girl they never wanted to trust.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  With the Queen’s word final, the festival preparations moved forward.

  Grudging or not, the elves got to work.

  And at the center of it all—Nyx and Lorienna.

  They coordinated with artisans, gave feedback on sketches, confirmed materials, and adjusted layouts. Nyx didn’t expect it to feel… like this.

  It was fun.

  Tiring. Overwhelming at times. But fun.

  Even Lorienna managed to rein in her chaotic energy—somewhat—and focused on her role. There was still the occasional distraction, like racing Nyx down the candle lit walkways or sneaking sweets from the dessert samples, but Nyx didn’t complain.

  Much.

  Uriel, however, remained silent.

  Even as the festival took shape exactly how Nyx had planned it—exactly how Uriel said it would—they hadn’t said a word.

  Nyx didn’t press.

  She already knew.

  By the end of the week—the day before the ceremony—Nyx found herself being dragged by the arm down a cobbled path near the outer market.

  “Where are we going?” she asked flatly, eyeing Lorienna’s unusually excited face.

  “You’ll see,” Lorienna said, far too pleased with herself. “Just come on. Trust me.”

  Nyx already didn’t.

  But she followed anyway.

  They stopped outside a quaint storefront with glowing crystal lanterns in the windows and elegant gowns displayed behind the glass.

  Nyx’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

  “Yes,” Lorienna said, already pulling the door open.

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  Inside, the shop felt like it belonged to another world.

  Soft music played from a floating orb in the corner. The air smelled faintly of lavender and fresh parchment. Dresses lined the walls—each more intricate than the last. Sheer layers, delicate embroidery, hand-painted silks.

  Nyx let out a breath.

  It was beautiful.

  And also, very clearly a dress shop.

  They were greeted by the owner—an older elven woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile—and the hunt began.

  It took time.

  A lot of time.

  And effort.

  And several rounds of Lorienna shaking her head like a disappointed mother at every option Nyx picked.

  “No. Too stiff.”

  “No. Too much sparkle.”

  “No. You look like you’re about to fight a dragon, not attend a ceremony.”

  Nyx was ready to walk out.

  But then—Lorienna stopped.

  Her eyes lit up.

  She didn’t say anything right away. Just reached out and carefully pulled one dress off the rack.

  “Try this.”

  The dress was an ethereal masterpiece in flowing silver hues.

  Layers of sheer, silken fabric shifted between soft metallic tones and pale moonlight grays. Bamboo leaves and delicate blossoms were embroidered across the wide sleeves and skirt, shimmering with every movement.

  The sash around the waist was a deeper shade—stormy silver—adorned with fine floral embroidery and trailing silk accents.

  And the bottom layers faded into a misty silver gradient, like shadows dipped in starlight. It moved like water. Looked like a memory.

  Nyx stepped out of the dressing room, her expression unreadable.

  Lorienna didn’t say anything at first.

  Just smiled.

  A real one.

  And nodded.

  “That’s it.”

  Nyx approached the counter, reaching into her pouch. “I’ll get it.”

  “Nope.” Lorienna blocked her path.

  “Lorienna.”

  “I said no.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I insisted on this.”

  “I’m wearing it. That’s enough.”

  “Nope.” She sidestepped and slammed her coin pouch on the counter first.

  Nyx stared. “You planned this.”

  Lorienna’s grin stretched wider. “Maybe.”

  The shopkeeper politely accepted the payment while trying not to laugh.

  With a triumphant smirk on her face, Lorienna turned to Nyx, holding up the dress bag.

  “Also—you’re staying at the castle tonight.”

  Nyx blinked. “What?”

  “You heard me. You’re basically the centerpiece of the ceremony. It can’t go on without you.”

  “No thanks. I’ll be fine at the inn.”

  “Nyx.”

  “No.”

  “You’re staying at the castle.”

  “Lorienna—”

  But it was already too late.

  Lorienna grabbed her wrist again and started walking. “Come on. You’ll get a warm bed, a hot bath, and actual food. I won’t let you back out now.”

  The castle was quieter than Nyx expected when they arrived.

  Lorienna led her through the halls with the ease of someone who grew up in them, chattering the whole time about dress accessories, hairpins, and how long the ceremony would probably run.

  Nyx tuned half of it out.

  The room they gave her was larger than anything she was used to—soft rugs, velvet cushions, a bath already drawn.

  Dinner had been delivered, too.

  She ate without saying much, and when the last bite was done, she made her way to the steaming bath waiting in the next room.

  She sank into the warmth, the silver dress laid carefully nearby, and finally, let herself exhale.

  The festival is tomorrow.

  Everything was in place.

  And for once, she wasn’t dreading it.