The Council Hall of Yal Elunore rose like a glimmering mountain above the misted city — a vast dome of crystal and Mythriel, its surface shimmering with pearly light that rippled like a living thing. It seemed less built than breathed into existence, each curve flowing like frozen waves of silver.
Inside, the great chamber spun in solemn grace.
Ten floating stands, each bearing a Council seat, orbited the heart of the dome — a massive Ether Crystal chandelier suspended above them, casting beams of silver-blue light that fractured across the vaulted walls.
Below, the High Guards stood watch — silent, immovable.
They wore armor of deep red and blue, the plates carved with delicate feathers in polished Mythriel, giving them a strange, solemn beauty — like warriors shaped from sky and storm.
Their double-bladed staffs, crafted of the same metal, gleamed with a soft, cold fire: one edge shimmered sharp and deadly; the other curved outward like a wing, feathered and intricate.
Their presence filled the Hall with a humming tension — not loud, but inescapable — as if the entire dome breathed in time with them, waiting.
—BREAK—
The Council session was already underway.
The hall pulsed with the hum of Ether, a sea of murmuring voices echoing beneath the great dome.
One of the elder councilors, a stout, heavy-voiced man with rings glittering on his fingers, spoke with clear disdain.
"Is there any opposition to finalizing the decree against the Kinitu?" he rumbled.
Another elder scoffed, his voice dripping with cruel amusement.
"About time those vermin were driven out. I can smell them in the streets even when they're hiding."
Laughter rumbled from a few floating seats, low and ugly.
Others remained silent, their faces carved from stone — complicit in their quiet.
Above, the great Ether Crystal pulsed softly, its fractured beams scattering over the council stands like a hundred watchful eyes.
The presiding elder, ancient and still, raised a hand for order. His long silver hair stirred faintly in the shimmering air.
He turned to Caelarion, voice smooth but carrying iron:
"Caelarion. Do you have anything to add?"
A sneer from another councilor:
"What could he add? He brought the matter to us."
Caelarion sat rigid, jaw clenched so tightly a vein throbbed at his temple.
The memory of Ellowyn's fierce, tearful gaze burned against his mind.
For a moment, he teetered — words forming on his tongue, heart hammering —
— when the great doors exploded inward with a deafening crack.
Shockwaves rippled through the chamber, rattling the floating stands.
The High Guards moved instantly, staffs crossing in a gleaming wall, their Ether wings flaring wide.
"Insolence!" roared a councilor. "Who dares disturb this gathering?"
The guards parted slightly — and into the hall stepped a single figure.
Ellowyn.
Her cloak torn, dust clinging to her boots, her hair a wild halo around her pale face.
She stood alone, trembling — but unbroken.
Caelarion lurched halfway to his feet, his face a mask of horror and awe.
"Wait!" he cried out. "That is my daughter!"
Murmurs tore through the council chamber like a crack of thunder on still water.
Some rose to their feet; others leaned forward, whispering behind their hands.
One elder, his face twisted with disgust, spat:
"Has your seed rotted so quickly, Caelarion?"
The High Guards tightened their ranks, weapons poised to strike.
But before a single blade could fall, the Grand Elder raised his hand.
A silence, heavy and absolute, crushed the hall.
Slowly, the Grand Elder's stand floated down toward Ellowyn.
He studied her, deeply, as though peeling back the layers of her soul.
"Child," he said, voice low but carrying, "You would not come here without cause. Speak."
Ellowyn's throat tightened. Fear clawed at her — but she could almost feel it, a hand steadying her unseen.
She lifted her chin, her heart hammering.
"I apologize for the intrusion," she said, voice shaky but growing.
"But I cannot live in silence anymore. If I stay shut one moment longer, I'd rather perish. There are things you must hear—"
"I have committed treason!"
Caelarion's voice split the air like a blade.
The floating stands jolted. The crystal chandeliers above seemed to shudder.
Every eye turned, stunned.
The Grand Elder narrowed his gaze.
"What are you saying, Caelarion?"
Caelarion bowed low, shame dragging his shoulders down.
"I have betrayed our laws," he said, voice rough as gravel.
"I dared to speak to my daughter of forbidden histories.
I wished to show her the truths we have buried, but she stopped me before I could share her anything…"
A stunned silence held the chamber in its vice grip — and then came the explosion.
"Traitor!"
"Seize him!"
In a blur of light, the High Guards snapped forward, Ether wings slicing the air.
Their twin Mythriel blades crossed at Caelarion's throat in a breath, forcing him to his knees.
The Grand Elder watched, his sorrow deepening.
He turned to Ellowyn.
"Is this true, child?" he asked, voice like a soft blade.
Before Ellowyn could even find words, Caelarion forced out:
"Yes, Great Elder. I was about to show her the Encloric Scrol. It is my fault alone."
Another surge of shouting.
The Grand Elder closed his eyes briefly, grief carved into his features.
"Take him."
The guards moved.
Ellowyn stood frozen, horror locking her limbs as her father was bound and led away.
As Caelarion passed, he turned.
Their eyes met.
And despite everything — despite fear, shame, ruin — he smiled.
A small, proud, broken smile.
And with the barest motion of his lips, he mouthed:
"Follow your heart, my child."
Tears blurred Ellowyn's vision into rivers of light.
The Grand Elder floated his chair closer, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Thank you for remaining loyal to your people," he said low, meant only for her.
"But remember — true justice is not always found within these walls."
He withdrew his hand, sadness lingering in his gaze.
"Go now, Ellowyn. Return home. Your mother will need you."
He turned.
Ellowyn's voice cracked free, desperate:
"Grand Elder Valomar—!"
He paused, Ether crystals scattering broken light over his weathered profile.
Without turning, he spoke — a whisper carried on the mist:
"Seek what must be sought, child... even if it takes you farther than you dare imagine."
Then he was gone —
Leaving only the spinning Ether lights, the fading echoes of anger and sorrow —
And Ellowyn standing alone beneath a Dome that no longer felt like a shield,
but a cage.
—BREAK—
The house felt hollow when Ellowyn and Aeryn returned, as if grief clung to the very air.
Inside, their mother was collapsed on the floor, hands buried in her face, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
The two younger children clung to her skirts, their faces pale and tear-streaked.
Ellowyn froze in the doorway, the sight hitting her like a blow.
The walls, the hearth — even the air — seemed to shudder with sorrow too deep for words.
She staggered forward, memories rushing back:
— Her father fastening his cloak at dawn, trembling.
— The look he gave her, not cold, but unbearably heavy.
A goodbye he couldn't speak. A plea she hadn't understood.
"I always do what is right for our family."
Ellowyn's throat tightened painfully.
It hadn't been pride.
It hadn't even been fear.
It had been love — broken, quiet, desperate.
The only way he knew how to give it.
Tears filled her eyes as she knelt beside her mother, gathering the little ones into her arms.
Her father had made his choice — not for pride, but for them.
For her.
And now it was her turn to choose.
This time, she would not falter.
—BREAK—
That night, Ellowyn packed by the cold, flickering light of a single Ether lamp.
The room felt too quiet, too small — as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Scrolls. Potions. Sigils.
Dried fruits, tough bread, small flasks of water tucked carefully into her pouch.
Rikuin's scarf — tied snug around her belt, the fabric still carrying a faint, wild scent of the Blue Forest.
Her staff — worn but steady — slung across her back like a lifeline to what little she still understood of the world.
As she fastened the last strap on her etherial pouch, the floor creaked softly behind her.
Aeryn stood in the doorway, arms crossed — but his face betrayed him. His jaw was tight. His eyes, shadowed.
"So," he said, trying for his usual dry humor, but his voice wavered.
"This is your next great rebellion?"
Ellowyn smiled faintly, a tremor at the corner of her lips.
"I need answers," she said. "I need something... something that will open their eyes."
"And where exactly do you plan to find that?" he asked, the fight draining out of his voice.
She crossed the room in two steps, rising on her toes to touch his cheek softly.
Her hand was cold.
His skin was warmer than she remembered.
Aeryn stiffened, realization hitting him like a punch.
"So you were going to leave without saying goodbye," he said hoarsely, a crack splintering through the words.
Ellowyn's throat tightened.
She tried to smile — a small, broken thing.
"Goodbyes are for long farewells," she whispered. "And Skyland doesn't have that much time."
She turned to go — but Aeryn caught her wrist.
His fingers pressed something small and warm into her palm.
She looked down — a pendant, glinting softly in the lamplight.
Gold, smooth and ancient, shaped like a folded triangle, the edges gleaming with faint, ethereal lines.
"Last night. Father gave it to me," Aeryn said, rough and low.
"Told me... to give it to you when the time came."
Ellowyn's fingers curled around it instinctively, feeling the weight of it sink into her bones.
Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked them back fiercely.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking.
Aeryn tried for a smirk — but it faltered into something gentler.
He reached out and ruffled her hair clumsily, just like when they were little and playing in the gardens of Yal Elunore, before the world had grown sharp.
"Take care, lazy Nimble-tail," he muttered, his throat thick.
"Don't fall asleep out there. Or I'll come drag you back by the ear."
Ellowyn laughed softly, the sound a bright crack in the heavy dark.
She hugged him — fiercely, desperately — breathing in the familiar scent of home, of warmth, of the boy who had always watched over her even when she didn't realize.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Then, with a last whisper, Ellowyn slipped through the window into the misty night —
— and the world she could no longer turn away from.
—BREAK—
The streets of Yal Elunore lay silent under the watchful shimmer of the Dome.
Ellowyn moved like a ghost between the sleeping houses, slipping through alleys and forgotten paths where no lanterns burned.
No one saw her.
No one stopped her.
The city she had once called home seemed distant now — a memory already fading behind her footsteps.
At the far edge of the district, where the smooth stones gave way to tangled vines and wild earth, the great eastern gate rose before her — the boundary between the city and the vast unknown.
Beyond it, the Blue Forest whispered beneath the stars, waiting.
She hesitated only once, pressing her hand briefly to the cold iron of the gate.
And then she slipped through.
The mist curled around her ankles as she crossed the threshold into the wilds, and with it came a flood of memories:
— Gathering Ether from the flowers.
— Rikuin's laughter dancing through the trees.
— Promises shared under a silvered sky.
She pressed forward, clutching her staff tightly, the Dome still shimmering faintly above.
"Ellowyn?" a voice called behind her.
She spun around — tense — ready to run.
She turned — and there stood Maeron, the teasing young Eldian guard.
Maeron stood there, his silver-stitched guard cloak thrown hastily over his armor, his usual smirk softened by something quieter.
He took one look at her: the worn packs strapped to her shoulders, the determined glint in her eyes.
And he understood.
"So," he said, a small, crooked smile tugging at his mouth.
"Running away without even a goodbye?"
Ellowyn hesitated, guilt prickling under her skin.
"I have to," she said simply, the words thick in her throat.
"I can't stay."
Footsteps echoed in the distance — other guards making their rounds.
Ellowyn tensed, her body ready to flee — but Maeron reached out and grabbed her hand.
His fingers were rough and warm against hers.
"Come," he whispered urgently, a mischievous light dancing behind his eyes.
"You forgot one little part of your brilliant plan."
Without waiting for her answer, he tugged her into the thickets, weaving between ancient trunks and whispering vines until they reached the edge of the Dome — where the world outside shimmered, ghostly and unreachable.
He turned to her, his hand still loosely wrapped around hers.
"You can't leave," he said, voice low and a little too steady, "unless someone opens the way."
His gaze held hers for a heartbeat longer than necessary — something unspoken passing between them — before he drew his blade in one swift, practiced motion.
The tip glowed faintly with Ether as he sliced a small, perfect tear in the weave — just wide enough for her to slip through.
The Dome shivered around them, light rippling where it broke.
Maeron tightened his grip briefly, grounding her.
"Be safe, Ellowyn," he said, the faintest roughness catching in his voice.
She nodded, swallowing hard, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak.
For a moment — just a moment — she squeezed his hand back.
A silent thank you.
A silent promise.
She hesitated at the breach, heart hammering painfully in her chest.
The Dome's boundary shimmered like a living veil before her — cold, ancient, sacred.
Fear rooted her feet to the ground.
And then — she felt it.
That same unseen force as before — warm, firm — grasped her right hand, urging her forward.
Eyes closing, breath shuddering, Ellowyn clutched the memory of Rikuin tight against her belt.
She leaned into the pull, into the fear —
— and stepped through.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then, with a soft sigh, the Dome sealed behind her, vanishing into mist and memory, leaving only the wild scent of the Blue Forest and the rising light of dawn.
Before her stretched Skyland: vast, broken, beautiful — and free.
She stood still for a moment, feeling something bloom inside her chest — a fierce, living thing unfurling at last.
Alone now, but not afraid, Ellowyn clutched the golden pendant at her heart.
She lifted her face to the rising sun, its first true light touching her skin like a blessing.
Skyland was calling.
And this time —
— she would answer.