Went on kind of a writing frenzy tonight… which is a good thing! It is very hard to keep all my thoughts in place. I’m very, very excited for this story. Enjoy Chapter 1 of Astral Eclipse. Again, you can follow my progress here, and if you have not yet read the prologue, you can find it here.
CHAPTER 1
The city of Eldorin, the jewel at the heart of Elshinat, stood as a testament to the elegance and grandeur of elven civilization. The castles many spires, adorned with intricate carvings and radiant gemstones, reached out for the sky, reflecting the brilliance of the midday sun. Each of the gemstones meticulously placed to resemble the cosmos above and each of its constellations. The city’s architecture was a harmonious blend of nature and artistry, seamlessly integrated into the dense forest that surrounded it. Nestled in a bay on the shore of the Emerald Sea, Eldorin was a safe haven for all walks of life.
Amidst this opulent splendor, the air was filled with the sweet scent of lumindel flowers, and the soft chatter of Eldorinean citizens going about their daily lives. The harmony between nature and architecture was ever-present with ivy-clad buildings and cascading waterfalls merging seamlessly with the cityscape.
In the heart of Eldorin, within the scholastic distract known as the Sylvaris Enclave, a young elf named Lirael began her day. She was not an elf of noble blood, far from it in fact. However, her spirit burned with an insatiable curiosity, a trait which had always set her apart from her brethren. Her emerald eyes sparkled with wonder as she roamed the streets, observing the vibrant city around her. She stood fairly tall for an elf, 6 feet exactly. Her long obsidian hair slightly blowing in the seaside breeze.
On this particular morning, Lirael found herself in the courtyard of the city’s most renowned library. Its soaring spires reached towards the heavens, and its shelves held the accumulated wisdom of countless generations. As she wandered through the elaborate halls, Lirael’s gaze was drawn to an ornate celestial mural, depicting the events of a celestial battle between the gods, events that happened a millennia ago.
This mural always seemed to call to her, its vivid depiction of the past stirring something within her soul. She had always heard the tales of that day. A true battle between brothers, that resulted in the sundered world. “What was it like before?” she wondered, “when Arynor was one?”.
“Ahh Lirael, it is good to see you” a wise old elf said, peeking from around a magnificent mahogany bookshelf. His bright blue eyes twinkling with ages of knowledge lost to many.
“Thalindor!” Lirael shouted as she ran to embrace him. “It has been ages, how have you been?”
“I have been in great spirits, my dear,” Thalindor said, his eyes sparkling with wisdom as he welcomed Lirael. “What brings you to the Enclave today? Are you here in anticipation of Lunarthal, perhaps?”
Lunarthal, an ancient and hallowed holiday that traces its origins to the very dawn of elven civilization. A celebration where elves converge to pay homage to the wondrous alignment of the sun and the moon, symbolizing the exquisite unity of contrasting cosmic forces.
“Yes! This will be my first Lunarthal, and… I really do not know what to expect” Lirael says sheepishly, her hands crossing in front of her, looking down to her boots.
Thalindor’s laughter echoed through the corridors of the Enclave, a rich and hearty sound that was as warm as the sunlight streaming through the intricate stained-glass windows. “Oh, no need to worry, my dear,” he chuckled with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “It has been a full century since the last Lunarthal, so long ago, in fact, that I can hardly remember it!” His laughter was contagious, drawing smiles from those who overheard the conversation.
“Lunarthal,” Thalindor continued, his tone becoming more contemplative, “is a time when the bonds of the Elven community are strengthened, and when we embark on journeys of introspection and self-discovery. It is a moment when we, as elves, are reminded of the intricate dance of light and shadow, day and night, and the delicate equilibrium that sustains our world.” His eyes wandered toward the celestial mural on the wall, where the vivid depiction of the sundering stood as a reminder of the importance of cosmic balance.
“Less we forget what happened, oh so long ago,” he mused, the timbre of his voice dropping to a more somber note. Thalindor’s gaze remained fixed on the mural, his thoughts drawn to the history and the lessons that Lunarthal had passed down through the ages. It was a time to reflect on the cosmic forces that shaped their world, to honor the unity of opposing energies, and to ensure that the memories of Lunarthal would remain alive in the hearts of all elves.
Lirael’s gaze followed Thalindor’s, and together they took in the mesmerizing mosaic before them. The intricate details of the mural held stories of the past, woven into its very essence. “Tell me, Thalindor,” Lirael inquired, her curiosity evident in her emerald eyes. “I know of the Sundering itself, but what led to brother turning against brother?” She knew the answer well, for the tales of elven history were etched in her memory, but she cherished hearing the wise elf recount these ancient stories.
“Power,” Thalindor responded with a quick and resolute tone, his eyes still entranced by the celestial mosaic on the wall. “As all conflicts are, it was power that led to brother turning against brother.” His gaze eventually returned to meet Lirael’s, and he spoke with a depth of wisdom that spanned centuries. “Not only here on Arynor, but in realms beyond our own.” His gaze, now, shifted toward the heavens.
“Come with me,” he invited, his heels turning with purpose as he set off toward the heart of the Enclave. Lirael, intrigued by his sudden urgency, cocked her head and hastened to keep pace with the venerable scholar. “I am going to show you something that is sacred to our people, my dear.” Lirael’s heart quickened with anticipation. What could Thalindor be unveiling? Something sacred, hidden away like an ancient tome perhaps?
As they reached a magnificent door, adorned with celestial carvings that reached for the sky, Thalindor produced a sizable iron key from the folds of his robe. He inserted it into a lock positioned at the door’s center, and with a resounding thunk, the door swung open, revealing a well-guarded secret. Thalindor ushered Lirael inside, ensuring the door closed securely behind them.
Lirael’s eyes widened as she gazed upon the breathtaking sight that unfolded before her. They stood in a vast atrium, an oculus in the ceiling allowing a cascade of midday sunlight to bathe a central pedestal in radiant warmth. The atrium’s ceiling depicted a magnificent fresco of the night sky, encrusted with gemstones as precious as the palace itself. Draped curtains of regal purple, each intricately embroidered with shimmering silver stars, added to the room’s enchantment. On the opposite end, a grand stained-glass window depicted a luminous sword, bathing the space in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Lirael’s breath caught as she beheld the sacred chamber’s ethereal beauty. This was a place of profound significance, a repository of ancient wisdom and untold secrets, and Thalindor had chosen to share it with her. But what was it exactly? Thalindor stood back, allowing Lirael to take in the splendor. Looking around the room in absolute amazement, she noticed on the pedestal, a glass case. “Sir, what… is this place?” stumbling over her words.
“In due time, my dear,” Thalindor replied, a cryptic smile on his wise face. He beckoned for Lirael to follow him as he led her toward one of the resplendent purple curtains that graced the room. His hand confidently grasped the gleaming silver drawstring, and he drew a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he muttered something, too softly for Lirael to discern. With a gentle tug, the curtain began to part, revealing the breathtaking spectacle it had concealed.
Behind the curtain lay another magnificent fresco, a masterpiece crafted from thousands upon thousands of precious gemstones and colorful tiles. The radiant hues of the gemstones shimmered, enhanced by the prismatic dance of light cast by the stained-glass window.
Before her, bathed in the soft radiance of the stained-glass window, stood an all-too-familiar face—an image she had beheld a thousand times before. With warm arms outstretched and a countenance sculpted from flowing blonde hair carved from from pure gold, the visage of Osephis, God of the Sun, graced the mosaic before her. Lirael’s emerald-colored eyes poured over this exquisite work of art.
As the light cascaded upon the mosaic, the emerald inlays that adorned the god’s eyes seemed to come to life, casting dazzling reflections throughout the chamber. According to ancient legends it is said elves were born with either emerald green or sapphire blue eyes, determined by the precise moment of their birth. However, Lirael’s own emerald eyes, like radiant jewels, cast doubt on this narrative as testament to the lunar circumstances of her birth—during a full moon when the celestial forces of Raimus, God of the Moon, held sway.
Lirael couldn’t help but utter a soft prayer under her breath as she beheld the celestial beauty. “Osephis,” she whispered, bowing her head briefly and invoking the words, “Lumiel i thal, tuula me cala.” A moment later, she raised her head, her emerald eyes fixed on Thalindor, who had already moved to another curtain’s drawstring across the room. Lirael observed in silence as he pulled it open, revealing yet another mosaic, equally as stunning in its artistry.
Where the image of Osephis bathed in the radiant light from the stained-glass window, the image on the opposite wall was shrouded in shadow. “Raimus,” Lirael whispered, acknowledging the God of the Moon with a reverent nod. The two walls faced each other, their eternal gazes converging upon the central pedestal that held the room’s profound secrets. One wall was illuminated, the other veiled in shadow, a fitting tribute to the Gods of the Sun and the Moon.
Much like the visage of Osephis, the celestial mosaic did justice to the God of the Moon. With flowing black hair, and eyes adorned with sapphire inlays, Raimus exuded an enigmatic yet potent presence within the chamber. As they stood in eternal opposition to one another, locked in their ageless gaze, the two brothers, embodiments of opposing cosmic forces, showcased their unique allure and wonder, harmoniously balanced in this sacred space.
Lirael’s thoughts raced as she pieced together the significance of this chamber. “So this is what Thalindor meant,” she reflected, harkening back to the moments when he had spoken of power and gazed upward at the heavens. The celestial beings, Osephis and Raimus, were central to the elven cosmology, and the mosaics spoke of their eternal interplay—a dance of light and shadow that echoed the delicate equilibrium of the cosmos.
“Two brothers in a struggle for power,” Thalindor’s voice broke the silence, his words laden with profound meaning. “Because of this,” he continued, his hand gesturing toward the central pedestal. The room, with its radiant frescoes and gemstone mosaics, seemed to be a sacred stage for the story he was about to reveal. “This, my dear, is why we celebrate Lunarthal,” he said, his gaze shifting from the room to the glass case that now stood before them.
Approaching the glass case, he glanced up, and his piercing blue eyes met Lirael’s. The intensity of his gaze caused Lirael’s heart to quicken in her chest, the weight of ancient secrets pressing upon her. She inhaled deeply and, with a steadying breath, took a step closer.
As she drew near, Lirael closed her eyes briefly, savoring the moment before she witnessed what lay before her. With another deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes. A gasp of amazement escaped her lips as she beheld the object resting on a soft pillow of regal purple velvet. “Is that…” she began, her voice tinged with bewilderment.
“A Celestial Shard, yes,” Thalindor confirmed, his tone resonating with the weight of history. “An artifact from a millennia ago, created from very essence that formed our world, and yet, came from the same artifact which sundered it.” Thalindor’s arms remained behind his back as he gazed at the shard, his demeanor a mix of reverence and solemn reflection. The metal of the shard seemed to ripple and shimmer, its surface resembling the starry night sky, a testament to the celestial power it held.
The Celestial Shards had long been the stuff of legends, stories passed down through the ages and enshrined within the dusty, revered tomes that nestled in the hallowed halls of the Enclave. Lirael, an acolyte scholar herself, had pored over those ancient texts, where the Shards were portrayed as a mythical tale, a genesis story for their world, often regarded with a sense of reverence and wonder. They were a foundational aspect of elven culture, a testament to the enduring bond between the cosmos and their lives.
But now, in this sacred chamber, Lirael stood face to face with the very object of her studies, the heart of her people’s history. She blinked in disbelief, the vivid scene before her challenging the boundaries of reality. The Celestial Shard, a relic of immeasurable power, rested on its simple bed of royal purple velvet. Its gleaming surface shimmered like a distant constellation, its form an embodiment of the cosmos itself. The object held in this chamber, mere feet away from where she had read about them.
Lirael’s mind teetered on the precipice of disbelief, struggling to reconcile the fantastical stories she had read with the tangible presence of the Celestial Shard. The lore of the Shards had always danced on the edges of her imagination, their existence too wondrous to accept as reality. Yet, here it lay before her, a corporeal testament to the heritage of her people, and the young scholar marveled at the breathtaking truth that unfolded before her emerald green eyes.
“I… don’t understand,” she stammered, her voice quivering with a mixture of awe and confusion.
Thalindor met her gaze with a knowing smile, his eyes returning to the stained-glass sword that bathed the room in colorful light. “Yes, my dear,” he affirmed, his voice imbued with the wisdom of generations. “This is a fragment of that fabled blade, during a time when brother turned against brother, and then shattered during the cataclysmic sundering.”
Lirael’s mind was ablaze with questions, “But, why do you have it? Why is it here? Why…” she began, a torrent of inquiries pouring forth.
Thalindor, however, interrupted her with an air of patient wisdom. “All in due time, my dear,” he assured her, “I have brought you to this sacred place for a reason. In time, all answers will be revealed.” His eyes sparkled with a knowing twinkle, and a serene smile played upon his lips. “Now, I think it is time we celebrate, don’t you think?”
As Lirael gazed upon the Celestial Shard and the cryptic words of Thalindor danced in her mind, her initial excitement and anticipation began to be overtaken by something else. Confusion, like a gathering storm, overtook her emotions. A thousand thoughts and questions whirled within her mind, much like the ethereal dance of the metal shard before her. Overwhelmed by it all, all she could manage was a soft and subdued, “Yes.”
