King Gealach
The Moon Court was alive with the soft hum of nocturnal celebration, the air cool and fragrant with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and silverleaf. The festival of the Rite of Reflection was in full swing, a time when the Court of the Moon honored the mysteries of the night and the wisdom it bestowed. Lanterns of pale blue and silver hung from the trees, their light mingling with the moon’s glow to cast an ethereal shimmer over the gardens. The reflective pools mirrored the stars above, creating the illusion of an endless sky both above and below.
Gealach stood at the edge of the festivities, his tall, lean frame draped in robes of deep indigo and silver, the fabric catching the light like the surface of a tranquil lake. His long, feathery black hair cascaded down his back, and his cool silver-blue eyes surveyed the scene with quiet satisfaction. The festival was a rare occasion when the Court of the Moon opened its doors to outsiders, and though Gealach valued solitude, he understood the importance of such gatherings. They were a reminder that even the night could be shared, that its secrets could be revealed to those who sought them with sincerity.
As he walked through the gardens, his pale silver wings folded neatly against his back, the festival-goers bowed respectfully, their voices hushed as they acknowledged their king. Gealach nodded in return, his expression calm and composed, though his mind was already wandering. He had always found the Rite of Reflection to be a time of introspection, a chance to ponder the balance of his court and the kingdom as a whole. Tonight, however, something felt different. There was a subtle shift in the air, a whisper of change that even his keen intuition couldn’t quite grasp.
He paused by one of the reflective pools, gazing into its still surface. The stars above shimmered in the water, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be lost in their depths. 'What secrets do you hold tonight?' he wondered silently, his thoughts as quiet as the night around him. The pool offered no answers, only the endless dance of light and shadow.
As he straightened, a guard approached, their footsteps soft against the moss-covered path. The guard bowed deeply, their voice low and respectful.
Gealach’s lips curved into a faint smile at the mention of his brother. Ruarc’s exuberance was a stark contrast to his own calm demeanor, but it was a contrast he cherished. He nodded to the guard.
The guard bowed again and retreated, leaving Gealach to his thoughts. He turned his gaze back to the festival, his eyes scanning the crowd. The music of flutes and harps drifted through the air, mingling with the soft laughter and murmured conversations of the guests. It was a peaceful scene, one that spoke of the harmony he worked so hard to maintain. Yet, that subtle shift in the air lingered, tugging at the edges of his awareness.
As he moved through the gardens, his sharp angular features softened by the moonlight, Gealach exchanged quiet words with his subjects. An elderly scholar bowed deeply, their voice filled with reverence.
Gealach inclined his head, his tone calm and measured.
Further along the path, a group of young poets recited verses inspired by the moon, their voices blending with the night. Gealach paused to listen, his expression thoughtful. One of the poets glanced up, their eyes widening in surprise at the sight of their king. They stammered,
Gealach offered a small, encouraging smile.
As he continued his walk, the sense of anticipation grew stronger. The festival was a time of connection, of shared wisdom and quiet celebration, but tonight, it felt as though something—or someone—was waiting for him. His intuition, rarely wrong, whispered that this night would be unlike any other.
Finally, he reached the heart of the festival, where the largest reflective pool lay surrounded by lanterns and cushions. The air here was cooler, the light softer, and the hum of conversation more subdued. Gealach’s gaze swept over the gathering, his sharp eyes missing nothing. And then, he saw it—a figure standing at the edge of the pool, their presence both unfamiliar and intriguing. The moonlight seemed to gather around them, as if the night itself had chosen to highlight their arrival.
Gealach’s pulse quickened, though his expression remained as calm as ever. He could feel the weight of the moment, the significance of this encounter. Whatever—or whoever—this was, it was no ordinary guest. With a quiet breath, he stepped forward, his silver wings catching the light as he moved. The festival faded into the background, the music and laughter becoming a distant hum. All that mattered now was getting to know the figure before him.
Gealach stood at the edge of the festivities, his tall, lean frame draped in robes of deep indigo and silver, the fabric catching the light like the surface of a tranquil lake. His long, feathery black hair cascaded down his back, and his cool silver-blue eyes surveyed the scene with quiet satisfaction. The festival was a rare occasion when the Court of the Moon opened its doors to outsiders, and though Gealach valued solitude, he understood the importance of such gatherings. They were a reminder that even the night could be shared, that its secrets could be revealed to those who sought them with sincerity.
As he walked through the gardens, his pale silver wings folded neatly against his back, the festival-goers bowed respectfully, their voices hushed as they acknowledged their king. Gealach nodded in return, his expression calm and composed, though his mind was already wandering. He had always found the Rite of Reflection to be a time of introspection, a chance to ponder the balance of his court and the kingdom as a whole. Tonight, however, something felt different. There was a subtle shift in the air, a whisper of change that even his keen intuition couldn’t quite grasp.
He paused by one of the reflective pools, gazing into its still surface. The stars above shimmered in the water, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be lost in their depths. 'What secrets do you hold tonight?' he wondered silently, his thoughts as quiet as the night around him. The pool offered no answers, only the endless dance of light and shadow.
As he straightened, a guard approached, their footsteps soft against the moss-covered path. The guard bowed deeply, their voice low and respectful.
Your Majesty, the emissary from the Court of the Sun has arrived. They bring greetings from King Ruarc.
Gealach’s lips curved into a faint smile at the mention of his brother. Ruarc’s exuberance was a stark contrast to his own calm demeanor, but it was a contrast he cherished. He nodded to the guard.
See that they are welcomed and offered refreshment. I will join them shortly.
The guard bowed again and retreated, leaving Gealach to his thoughts. He turned his gaze back to the festival, his eyes scanning the crowd. The music of flutes and harps drifted through the air, mingling with the soft laughter and murmured conversations of the guests. It was a peaceful scene, one that spoke of the harmony he worked so hard to maintain. Yet, that subtle shift in the air lingered, tugging at the edges of his awareness.
As he moved through the gardens, his sharp angular features softened by the moonlight, Gealach exchanged quiet words with his subjects. An elderly scholar bowed deeply, their voice filled with reverence.
Your Majesty, the library’s new collection of star charts is truly remarkable. Your vision has brought us closer to the heavens.
Gealach inclined his head, his tone calm and measured.
The stars have much to teach us, if we are willing to listen. I am glad the collection serves you well.
Further along the path, a group of young poets recited verses inspired by the moon, their voices blending with the night. Gealach paused to listen, his expression thoughtful. One of the poets glanced up, their eyes widening in surprise at the sight of their king. They stammered,
Y-Your Majesty, we are honored by your presence.
Gealach offered a small, encouraging smile.
The moon inspires many truths. Your words do her justice.
As he continued his walk, the sense of anticipation grew stronger. The festival was a time of connection, of shared wisdom and quiet celebration, but tonight, it felt as though something—or someone—was waiting for him. His intuition, rarely wrong, whispered that this night would be unlike any other.
Finally, he reached the heart of the festival, where the largest reflective pool lay surrounded by lanterns and cushions. The air here was cooler, the light softer, and the hum of conversation more subdued. Gealach’s gaze swept over the gathering, his sharp eyes missing nothing. And then, he saw it—a figure standing at the edge of the pool, their presence both unfamiliar and intriguing. The moonlight seemed to gather around them, as if the night itself had chosen to highlight their arrival.
Gealach’s pulse quickened, though his expression remained as calm as ever. He could feel the weight of the moment, the significance of this encounter. Whatever—or whoever—this was, it was no ordinary guest. With a quiet breath, he stepped forward, his silver wings catching the light as he moved. The festival faded into the background, the music and laughter becoming a distant hum. All that mattered now was getting to know the figure before him.
2018
