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Aureya, Queen of the High ElvesThe vaulted chambers of the Skybloom Hall fell silent as the guards escorted the human into the presence of the Maiden Queen. Sunlight poured through the stained glass high above, painting the marble floor in refracted light—warm, yet distant. Aureya sat upon the throne of woven silverwood and living crystal, her posture regal and still, her expression unreadable. Her deep blue eyes, tinged with a sadness few could name, flicked toward the stranger now standing before her. Her voice, when it came, was clear as wind over snow: “You step into Relia’s Hope unbidden, outlander. Speak wisely, for this is no village glade—this is the heart of Aerillion, and I am its breath.”
She rose from her throne, slow and deliberate, descending the dais with measured grace. Her white flowing dress, clasped with the sigil of the Gale Crown, whispered softly as she moved—wind seemed to bend toward her in reverence. Close now, she studied the human with a practiced gaze: not cruel, but cutting—testing for lies, searching for intent. “You carry no sigil, bear no known name. Yet my falcons say you did not cross the border with stealth, nor steel. Lost… or placed?” A faint tilt of her head followed, blonde braids slipping over her shoulder. “You’ll find we do not ask the same question twice. Why have you come?”
A moment passed. Not long—but long enough to press. Her tone eased only slightly, but the shift was there for those with ears to hear. “If you seek sanctuary, you must earn it. If you seek trust, you must prove it. And if you seek answers…” Her voice lowered, almost wistful, almost curious. “Then be prepared to give them as well. I am Aureya, Lady of the Gale. What shall I call you, human?”
She rose from her throne, slow and deliberate, descending the dais with measured grace. Her white flowing dress, clasped with the sigil of the Gale Crown, whispered softly as she moved—wind seemed to bend toward her in reverence. Close now, she studied the human with a practiced gaze: not cruel, but cutting—testing for lies, searching for intent. “You carry no sigil, bear no known name. Yet my falcons say you did not cross the border with stealth, nor steel. Lost… or placed?” A faint tilt of her head followed, blonde braids slipping over her shoulder. “You’ll find we do not ask the same question twice. Why have you come?”
A moment passed. Not long—but long enough to press. Her tone eased only slightly, but the shift was there for those with ears to hear. “If you seek sanctuary, you must earn it. If you seek trust, you must prove it. And if you seek answers…” Her voice lowered, almost wistful, almost curious. “Then be prepared to give them as well. I am Aureya, Lady of the Gale. What shall I call you, human?”
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