Vernal Revel
1563 Words
The morning of the Vernal Revel dawned crisp and sharp, like the world itself had polished its skin overnight.
The city of Veylieth practically hummed.
Banners of violet, gold, and green streamed from windows and lampposts. Vendors cried their wares in the streets — sweetfruit candies, enchanted perfumes, flower crowns woven with subtle glamour.
Even the air tasted sweeter today.
Inside the Velvet Hand, the energy was no less electric.
Every corridor buzzed with preparations:
Courtesans darting from room to room, half-dressed and laughing.
Tailors and enchanters weaving last-minute spells into gowns and jewelry.
Musicians tuning delicate stringed instruments that would serenade the revelers late into the night.
At the center of it all stood Raina.
Not rushing.
Not flustered.
Radiant.
A calm eye in the storm of beauty.
✨ [System Notice: Special Event — Vernal Revel Active] ✨✨ [Temporary Buff: Increased Charm, Regeneration, and Affinity Gains During Festival Period] ✨
Tanya stood at Raina’s side, adjusting the fit of a shimmering gown onto a mannequin.
"You sure about this one?" Tanya asked, nodding toward the dress they’d selected.
It was nothing short of spellbinding:
A gown of sheer, layered silk dyed in deep plum and midnight blue—the colors blending together like a lover’s sigh beneath the stars.
Tiny threads of starlight had been woven into the fabric itself, catching the light with every breath and movement.
The neckline plunged daringly, but tastefully, hinting at the power Raina carried rather than flaunting it.
The back was open almost to the waist, a delicate lattice of crisscrossing silver chains drawing the eye downward.
And the skirt...oh, the skirt.
A waterfall of translucent silk that shifted with every movement, like the petals of some impossible flower unfolding.
"It’s perfect," Raina said softly, tracing the gown’s lines with her fingers.
Tielan sauntered over, arms laden with boxes of jewelry.
He gave a low, appreciative whistle when he caught sight of the dress.
"If anyone in this city wasn’t already obsessed with you," he drawled, "this’ll finish the job."
Raina smirked.
But inside—beneath the growing tide of anticipation—there was a quiet, iron determination.
Tonight mattered.
Tonight was more than performance. More than beauty.
Tonight, she would cement her place.
Tanya draped a selection of jewelry across a low table:
A delicate circlet of silver and moonstone.
Arm cuffs etched with swirling vine patterns.
A pendant shaped like a blooming lark—wings outstretched as if caught in eternal flight.
"Which pieces do you want?" Tanya asked, her eyes gleaming.
"You could pull off all of them."
Raina tilted her head thoughtfully, feeling the hum of magic in her veins.
Less was more tonight.
She needed to shine as herself, not vanish under too much ornament.
She selected:
The moonstone circlet, to crown her without chaining her.
The lark pendant, resting just above the valley of her breasts, a quiet echo of the song she would sing later.
"Simple. Strong," she murmured.
"Me."
Tielan clapped his hands together, mock solemn.
"Goddess it is, then."
Tanya grinned wickedly.
"Oh, she's already halfway there."
Raina laughed, low and rich. But as she turned to gaze at her reflection in the floor-length mirror, the smile softened into something deeper.
Something hungry.
Something true.
"By the end of tonight," she whispered to herself, "they’ll know."
"Not just who I am—"
"But what I’m becoming."
[System Notice: Prestige Bonus Active — Vernal Revel Performance Will Greatly Influence Reputation, Affinity Progression, and Divine Seed Growth.] And somewhere deep within her chest, the Divine Seed pulsed once—steady, certain, waiting for the bloom.
The Vernal Revel had always been a day of lush indulgence—but this year, it felt different.
Sharper.
Hungrier.
The entire city of Veylieth had dressed itself in joy:
Flower garlands draped from balconies like offerings.
Musicians on every street corner, filling the air with bright, aching melodies.
Dancers twirling through the plazas, their skin dusted with shimmering powders that caught the light like living stars.
The scent of roasted meats, honeyed fruit, and spiced wine curled in every alleyway.
Even the nobility had left their towers and cloisters, mingling with merchants, adventurers, and dreamers alike.
Today, there were no barriers.
Today, every soul was equal beneath the rising moons.
And threading through it all—gliding from courtyard to square to stage—was Raina Moonveil.
She didn’t hide behind silks or spells.
She didn’t retreat into the walls of the Velvet Hand.
Instead, she walked boldly through the throngs, a living embodiment of the season’s promise.
Everywhere she moved, people parted instinctively:
Women brushed their hands across their own lips without realizing it.
Men stumbled over their words, eyes following her as if hypnotized.
Enbies flushed and turned away—then peeked back again with shy, reverent smiles.
[System Notice: Passive Aura Management Active — Controlled Emission Successful.]
But it wasn’t just beauty that drew the eye.
It was leadership.
Raina didn’t just admire the festivities.
She helped build them.
She knelt beside flower vendors to weave garlands for shy children.
She calmed a panicking musician whose lute had snapped just before a competition, helping him restring it with deft, careful fingers.
She soothed a group of bickering acolytes, reminding them gently that the Revel was not a contest, but a celebration.
Always moving.
Always smiling.
Always lifting those around her without drawing all the light for herself. And high above it all, standing at the private balcony of the Velvet Hand, the Madame watched. Silent. Sharp-eyed. She didn’t speak. Didn’t call out. Just observed like a queen measuring her heir. And in her lined, careful face...there was a flicker of something almost soft Pride. And a small, bittersweet sadness. The day spun onward—a riot of color and music and laughter.
And though offers came thick and fast—
Nobles trying to buy her time with heavy coin purses.
Merchants offering enchanted gifts in exchange for a single dance.
Adventurers boasting challenges, games, riddles, all to impress her—
Raina politely declined them all. She gave herself to the city today, not to any one soul. Only Brael managed to slip her a brief moment of privacy—offering her a candied peach with a wink and vanishing back into the crowd before temptation could take root. She bit into it, laughing softly, the sweet juice running down her wrist. The afternoon waned. The golden light stretched thin and soft. The drums grew slower, heavier, more solemn. The magic in the air deepened. And the city waited breathless for the final ceremony to begin. For the one voice promised to close the day: The Golden Girl of the Velvet Hand. The blooming star of Marastir. Raina Moonveil. The last echoes of revelry faded into a reverent, aching hush.
The city of Veylieth gathered under the twin moons, the squares and streets and balconies filled with expectant faces turned toward the grand stage erected in the Velvet Plaza.
Soon, she would walk that path.
Soon, her voice would ring out across the entire Principality.
But first—
Raina prepared.
Not in a frenzy of dressing.
Not with a flood of attendants scrambling at her heels.
She had sent everyone away.
Even Tanya and Tielan, who had hovered protectively for a moment too long.
Even Brael, who had looked like he might protest—but caught the look in her eyes and simply kissed the back of her hand before slipping away into the gathering crowd.
Now it was just her.
And the quiet.
The private dressing room was lit only by a handful of low, enchanted candles. They threw soft, shifting halos of gold across the mirrors and silken drapes.
Raina stood before the tall mirror, her gown already on—
that whisper of plum and midnight, threaded with starlight, flowing over her body like water kissed by the cosmos.
The moonstone circlet crowned her hair, simple and radiant.
The lark pendant rested against her heart, warm from her skin.
She placed her hands against the mirror, palms flat, fingers splayed.
Looked herself in the eyes.
Not the courtesan.
Not the student.
Not the fantasy.
The woman.
The storm.
The coming goddess.
✨ [System Notice: Divine Focus Ready — Performance Will Amplify Divine Seed Growth Based on Emotional Resonance.] ✨
Raina inhaled deeply, letting the magic coil around her ribs, stretch through her spine, curl behind her eyes like secret smoke.
Slowly, deliberately, she centered herself.
Her breath synchronized with the beat of her heart.
Her magic licked just beneath her skin, eager, restrained.
Her voice—low, steady, velvet-smooth—hummed a soft note into the stillness.
A tuning of the soul.
A weaving of body, mind, and power.
As she moved to gather her final piece—a soft gossamer shawl stitched with silver vines—the door creaked softly behind her.
She turned.
And there stood—
the Madame.
No fanfare.
No entourage.
Just the woman who had plucked Raina from the sea of courtesan hopefuls and shaped her with quiet, brutal patience.
The Madame held out a small object, wrapped in dark blue velvet.
"This," she said simply, her voice low and rough, "was given to me once. When I was very young, and very foolish, and about to step into the unknown."
She pressed it into Raina’s hands without ceremony.
"Now it’s yours."
- Writer
