As night settled, the heart of the festival led them to an ancient tree—a towering colossus with velvet-colored flowers that shimmered like tiny constellations against the darkened sky. This was a sacred night, one where the flowers bloomed only once in a five years, drawing countless Fivris to bask in their glow and drink the rich, glistening sap.
The air was thick with wonder as the tiny winged creatures fluttered around, their velvety indigo fur reflecting the luminescence of the petals. Among them, one particular Fivri—the same one Zehron had encountered in the forest—recognized him instantly. With an excited flurry of movement, it darted toward him, releasing a series of gentle, melodic chirps, its way of expressing joy.
Attracted by the scene, more and more Fivris turned their attention toward him, their wings creating a mesmerizing display of light and color. Before long, they had encircled Zehron, a radiant swirl of shimmering creatures twinkling like fallen stars come to life. Their delicate sounds blended into a soft, harmonious chime that resonated through the festival grounds, captivating every onlooker.
And at the very center of it all stood Zehron, his expression relaxed, his features bathed in the ethereal glow of the gathering Fivris. It was a rare sight—his usual reserved demeanor softened into a breathtaking smile, one that seemed to belong in a dream rather than reality.
Elvienne, watching from just a few steps away, felt her heartbeat falter. He was beautiful. Unfathomably so. It wasn't just his appearance—it was the way he existed in that moment, as though he belonged to something greater, something untouchable. And yet, here he was, close enough for her to reach.
Without realizing it, she had fallen deeper. Deeper into whatever this feeling was, deeper into the quiet pull that was Zehron himself.
.
As couples lined up beneath the ancient tree, the velvet-colored flowers shimmered in the moonlight, releasing a faint, glowing mist whenever a kiss was exchanged. Each time a pair pressed their lips together, the tree responded with a soft pulse of light, as if sealing their love with its eternal blessing. The air was filled with laughter, hushed whispers, and the fluttering of countless Fivris, their velvety indigo wings glowing faintly as they danced around the blossoms, savoring the sap that only bloomed once in a five years.
Zehron, feeling the weight of too many eyes lingering on him after the earlier commotion, quietly stepped away from the heart of the festival. Elvienne followed, her curiosity piqued, and they soon found themselves on a nearby hill, just far enough to watch the scene unfold without being in the thick of it. From this vantage point, the tree's glowing canopy looked even more otherworldly, like a portal between realms.
The Fivri that had first taken a liking to Zehron had refused to leave his side, unlike the others that had returned to the tree. It hovered close, making soft, contented purring noises, its tiny eyes gleaming with an almost knowing expression. Elvienne let out a quiet chuckle at its persistence.
"You should name it," she suggested, turning to Zehron with a teasing smile.
Zehron blinked at the little creature, unsure. "I'm not good at naming things."
At his response, the Fivri let out a low, sorrowful trill and drooped slightly in the air, its wings dimming just a little.
Elvienne laughed softly. "Oh dear, now you've gone and broken its little heart." She tapped a thoughtful finger against her lips before declaring, "How about… Liri?"
The Fivri instantly perked up, wings fluttering in excitement as it let out a series of delighted chirps, circling around them in joyous approval. Its glow brightened, casting a faint shimmer over Zehron's face, making his usually composed expression soften just a little.
"Liri, huh…" Zehron murmured, watching the little creature flit about.
Elvienne smiled, tilting her head slightly. "It suits it, doesn't it?"
Zehron gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and the two of them quietly watched as Liri danced in the moonlight, glowing like a tiny ember against the vast, endless nigh
As they watched the couples take turns kissing under the glowing tree, Zehron spoke, his tone laced with mild amusement. "I don't quite like the idea of standing in line just to kiss under a tree."
Elvienne turned to him with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Oh? Do you dislike the waiting, or do you just not want to kiss?"
Zehron shot her a glance, unimpressed. "That's not what I meant."
Elvienne smirked, resting her chin on her palm. "Mmm… then perhaps you prefer something more spontaneous? A stolen kiss in the midst of a crowd? Or maybe something more dramatic—like under a storm, where the rain makes it all the more intense?"
Zehron exhaled through his nose, looking away. "You're imagining too much."
Elvienne laughed softly. "Maybe. But imagine if the great Zehron Astravahn did stand in line, patiently waiting for his turn—wouldn't that be a sight? I'm sure the whole kingdom would watch in awe."
Zehron shook his head. "That's exactly why I wouldn't."
Elvienne placed a hand over her heart, feigning disappointment. "What a shame. And here I thought you'd be eager to follow tradition."
Zehron narrowed his eyes. "You're enjoying this too much."
Elvienne grinned, tilting her head. "A little. You're quite fun to tease."
As Elvienne chuckled, Zehron turned his gaze toward her, and sensing his stare, she instinctively met his eyes. The teasing air between them faded into something quieter, something unspoken. The laughter from the festival felt distant, drowned out by the steady rhythm of their breaths.
Elvienne's lips parted slightly, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. "Zehron…"
Zehron's expression remained unreadable, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he responded, "Yes?"
Elvienne blinked, a hint of nervousness flickering in her usually composed demeanor. "Ron?"
At that, Zehron's lips curled into a small, knowing smirk. His voice dipped lower, smoother. "Vienne?"
They hadn't realized how close they had leaned in, how the shimmering light of the great tree painted their faces in soft hues. And then, before either of them could think—before hesitation could creep in—they kissed.
It was gentle at first, uncertain, as if testing the weight of the moment. But as the realization settled, so did the warmth between them, deepening into something neither could name.
Liri, the little fivri, flapped its shimmering wings in sheer shock, tiny eyes widening. With an embarrassed chirp, it covered its face with its velvety wings, only to peek through the gaps a moment later, curiosity winning over modesty.
The night, the festival, the world itself seemed to hold its breath.
After their kiss, Elvienne, slightly flustered but playful as always, teases Zehron about how they technically didn't kiss under the tree, so it doesn't count as a festival blessing. Zehron scoffs, saying the idea of standing in line for a kiss still seems ridiculous.
Just then, Liri chirps and flutters away toward the tree, twirling between the glowing petals as if calling them. Curious, Elvienne tugs Zehron's sleeve. "Shall we follow?" she asks, her voice holding a quiet excitement.
Zehron sighs but doesn't refuse.
The crowd has started to thin, with only a few couples left under the tree, and the festival's attention is shifting to another performance nearby. Just after the last couple finished their deed, under the cover of the soft, shimmering glow of the ancient blossoms, they quietly step beneath the branches.
Elvienne, standing in the golden luminescence, tilts her head and murmurs, "See? No crowd, no waiting in line."
Zehron exhales, shaking his head with a soft smile. "You're relentless."
She chuckles but then looks at him, sincerity laced in her voice. "It's a once-in- five years blessing, Ron."
He gazes at her for a moment, then glances up at the luminous petals above them, casting an ethereal glow around them. There's no one watching. No expectations. Just them.
And this time, Zehron is the one who closes the distance.
As their lips meet, the ancient tree responds—its petals shimmer brighter, and for a moment, a soft, golden breeze swirls around them, as if acknowledging their bond. Liri flutters happily, chirping in approval.
Neither of them notices the tree's quiet blessing, lost in the feeling of the moment.
As their lips part, they linger in the closeness, eyes locked, sharing a soft, knowing smile. Foreheads gently pressed together, they bask in the warmth of the moment. The world feels quiet—just them, the moonlight, and the rhythmic beating of their hearts.
Then, a chorus of joyous chirps erupts around them. They turn their gaze toward the Everveil Tree, where a shimmering mist swirls through the air, wrapping around them in delicate spirals before fading into the night. The sight is mesmerizing, as if the tree itself acknowledges their bond.
Elvienne laughs, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Looks like the tree has given us its blessing."
Zehron exhales softly, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips. "So it seems."
Liri flutters around them in delight, its tiny wings glistening as it chirps in excitement, circling Zehron before landing on Elvienne's shoulder. It nuzzles her cheek affectionately before flying back to Zehron, clinging to him just a little tighter than before.
With the festival still in full swing, they decide to rejoin the crowd, eager to explore more of what the night has to offer. Hand in hand, they walk away from the Everveil tree, their laughter trailing behind them like the wind.
But as the distance between them and the ancient tree grows, something unseen begins to unfold. The once-radiant glow of the Everveil Tree starts to dim. Its shimmering petals and flowers lose their light, the ethereal mist dispersing as the tree falls into an unnatural stillness and darkness.
A sign. A warning.
Liri, the only one who notices, flutters its wings anxiously, glancing between Zehron and Elvienne. It chirps in distress, gripping Zehron's shoulder tighter. But unaware of the significance, the two only laugh at Liri's sudden clinginess.
"What's gotten into you?" Zehron chuckles, nudging the tiny creature.
"Perhaps it's jealous," Elvienne teases, tapping Liri's tiny head with her finger.
They continue forward, unaware of the darkness left behind.