AUREVIA

The skies of Bagat shimmered silver light, ribbons of air weaving through the spires of the Cloud Citadel. On this day, Aurevia gathered to honor its sovereign, Queen Yrva. Every kingdom sent envoys, banners and gifts, for the feast of the Queen was not only a celebration — it was a reminder. At the heart of the citadel stood the Core, a crystal unlike any other. It pulsed with living light, its surface shifting with the hues of all elements; flame-red, ocean-blue, earth-brown, frost-white, storm-gray, and desert-gold. Some claimed to see fragments of dawn and midnight dancing within, proof that even light and dark bowed to its brilliance. For as long as Aurevia remembered, the Core had been the source of Bagat’s strength. With it, Queen Yrva ruled not only the skies but held influence across the realms. The Festival Begins Lanterns filled with wind-sprites danced across the sky as music rang from reed-pipes and crystal horns. The courtyards of Bagat overflowed with feast — roasted skyfish, spiced earth-root, molten flamefruit, and chilled snow-berries. Yet beyond the laughter of the people, an undercurrent of rivalry stirred. For tonight was not merely a festival. Tonight, each kingdom would present before Queen Yrva a suitable consort, one whose union with the queen could alter the balance of Aurevia. The First to Present- Eda As tradition demanded, the kingdom of fire presented first. From the gates of the citadel strode Lord Serad of Eda, proud in scarlet robes. In his side walked Kaelion, a warrior whose skin bore ember-like marks, his eyes burning with flames. “Majesty,” Serad declared, his voice carrying like fire crackling through wood, “Bagat has long held dominion , but fire is the heart of Aurevia’s strength. We present Kaelion, flame-blooded, whose fire shall guard your throne and k****e a future of might.” Gasps rippled through the crowd at this boldness. For all knew Eda hungered for influence beyond their borders, and this offering was no gesture of peace but ambition. Dalith’s Offering - The Scholar of Rivers Next came Dalith, kingdom of rivers and wisdom. Their envoy bowed low, presenting Marnel, a man with calm eyes, and a voice as steady as water’s flow. “Your Majesty, our Lahei,” he said softly, “Dalith offers not fire’s blaze, but water’s patience. Streams carved valleys, rivers shaped kingdoms. In Marnel, you will find not only a companion, but wisdom to endure when fire and storm fade.” Where Eda’s presentation had been bold, Dalith’s was quiet, but its words lingered like water soaking into soil. The Stone of Homon From Homon came Daro, son of stone. Broad-shouldered a d clad in granite armor, he knelt before the Lahei. “Majesty,” he declared, striking the ground so that the floor trembled, “earth is steadfast, unyielding. In me lies the loyalty of mountains. Should Aurevia fall to chaos, I shall be the wall that does not break.” The crowd roared approval, for strength and loyalty were virtues cherished across all realms. Keithon - The Builders of Sand Keithon entered next, their banners of gold and ochre fluttering the wind. They presented Sahim, a craftsman with hands calloused from shaping dunes into towers. He raised a swirl of sand that formed the likeness of Aurevia itself. “Majesty,” Sahim said, “sand is both fragile and infinite. With me, your reign shall build wonders beyond imagination. From dust, I raised empires. From nothing, I make eternity.” His artistry awed the people, though whispers spread quickly—was Keithon’s offering a challenge to Eda, or an alliance in disguise? The Lahun from Bagat. When the last of the four kingdoms had finished their offerings, the great hall had quieted. All eyes turned toward the dais where Lahei Yrva (Queen Yrva) sat, the Core gleaming in its crystalline radiance beside her. For a moment, it seemed as though the festival would move to its closing rites — until the High Elder of Bagat stepped forward. “Great Lahei,” the elder intoned, his voice carried by the hush of the Bambino winds, “though it is custom for the outer kingdoms to bring forth their chosen, it would be unworthy if Bagat itself did not honor its Lahei.” A young Bambino emerged, cloaked in garments woven with threads of silver air, his brow marked faintly with the sigil of wind. He knelt before the queen, lowering his head. “We present to you Beiani. He is not offered as a rival to the choices of other lands,” the elder continued, “but as a testament — that Bagat itself, the kingdom you guard, entrusts to you one of its finest sons. Not only as Lahun (king), should it please you, but as a shield and companion, one who breathes the very air of our people.” The hall murmured in awe, for the gesture was more than tradition — it was a declaration. Bagat had placed its own heart at the Queen’s feet. The Absent North And yet, one kingdom remained silent. Faphir, land of frost and exile, had sent no envoy when the festival began. For centuries, they had chosen seclusion, rejecting the politics of Aurevia. Many believed they would never bow, not even to Lahei Yrva. The hall buzzed with speculation: would Faphir’s absence be taken as defiance? After all, the festival is made to ensure successors of each kingdoms and anointing of the Deiangs. The Core Revealed At the height of the feast, the heralds called for silence. Lahei Yrva rose, her silver hair glimmering like moonlight. Behind her, attendants unveiled the Core. Its light bathed the entire citadel, and the crowd knelt as one. “Behold,” the queen said, “the gift of the Architect. The Core, source of Aurevia’s breathes, flames, rivers, stones, frosts, and sands. As long as it shines, Aurevia stands united.” The Core pulsed, light dancing across the hall. Even the suitors bowed, their marks faintly glowing in response. For in its presence, not could deny its living power. The Arrival of Faphir The silence broke when the sudden chill swept the air. The torches flickered, floors creeping along the marble floor. From the northern gates entered the long-absent envoys of Faphir. Cloaked in robes of ice-thread, they move like shadows of winter. Gasps echoes as the crowd parted. At their head walked Lord Vael, his boice cold as glacial wind. Behind him stood Eryndor, tall and pale, his eyes glowing faint as frozen stars. “Majesty,” Vael said, bowing low, “Faphir has long chosen silence. But silence does not mean severance. Tonight, before the Core, we present Eryndor. Let none say Faphir has forsaken Aurevia.” The court erupted. Some in awe, others in fear. That Faphir had come at all was astonishing. That they offered Eryndor—a figure whispering half-forgotten tales—shook even the most composed envoys. Queen Yrva regarded the suitor of ice with calm, though the air around her stirred restlessly. She raised her hand and the Core shimmered, reflecting not only fire, water, earth, air and sand—but also frost. “Then it is settled,” she said. “All kingdoms have spoken. Tonight, Aurevia is whole.” The people cheered, though beneath the celebration, unease coiled. For Faphir’s return was no small matter, and the Core’s brilliance, though steady, seemed to flicker with something unseen. And above, unseen in the revelry, the moon’s shadow deepened, as if the realms of Light and Darkness has begun to watch.