Chapter 26 Starry Night Party She was no longer that flustered little girl…
Acorn Square in Ilovia is only this lively on one day a year: the Star and Moon Festival.
This is an arts festival, a magical carnival for artists; and the day after the art festival, there is a mysterious masquerade ball, where elves, after enjoying the art, begin to play without regard for their status.
Backstage, some artists were still preparing their works. Laurel frantically flipped through papers, while several musicians rehearsed on the harp in a corner.
"You can do it, you can do it, you can do it..." Ashlin muttered to herself, feeling like a lunatic. Think about yourself, think about yourself, yes.
“Relax,” Lucas said. “We’ve practiced for so long, you’re fine. The only problem is your nervousness.”
"My nervousness is the least of my problems. Remember the time I pierced the ceiling?"
Lucas remained silent for a moment, which showed that he was also worried about repeating history.
"That was an accident," he managed to squeeze out.
This dismissive tone only made Ashlin more panicked. She paced back and forth as if under a time loop, but pacing back and forth solved nothing.
It would be best to check the situation outside; maybe the other performances are terrible, and then she'll be the one who shines the most.
She quietly drew back the curtain and peeked outside.
Below the stage, magical dust filled the air, guiding the way. Lanterns in cool hues floated merrily in mid-air, illuminating the expectant faces of the elves.
The wine glass flew around on its own, nearly hitting the audience. An impatient elf pushed the glass aside, and it cried out in sorrow, shattering on its own, spilling wine all over the ground.
Queen Melia sat on the high platform in the center, her expression unreadable, with Aidan beside her.
The entire room fell silent, waiting for Melia to speak.
"The time has come again." The Queen's voice was amplified by magic, loud but not excited. "Tonight, with the silver moon hanging low and Venus as our companion, the people of Ilovia once again offer their hymns to the Forest Goddess."
"Drama recreates history, poetry inscribes the heart, music communicates the soul, and the paintbrush tells a story. Art is the magic in our blood, the hope bestowed upon us by the divine oak."
She paused for a moment, gazing into the distance.
"We all know that the Sacred Oak is afflicted with disease. Tonight's gathering may bring art and spirituality to the Sacred Oak, helping it to regain its divine power. Please remember this: without the Sacred Oak, art will be like a bird with broken wings, unable to soar again; without the Sacred Oak, our homeland will fall into a more miserable state than that of the northern orcs; without the Sacred Oak, Ilovenia will no longer be Ilovenia."
"At the same time, please allow us to remember that the young Princess Hida recently entered the spirit world. This evening is dedicated not only to the forest goddess, to the sacred tree, to all the living people of Ilovania, but also to the souls of the dead."
She suppressed the sadness in her voice and sat down. Aidan took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
The artists around Ashlin took to the stage one after another.
First was Laurel. Her presentation was a huge oil painting depicting the moon goddess and the forest god seated facing each other. The two deities' shimmering hair was made of enchanted paint, resembling a melting moon.
Legend has it that the moon and the forest always support each other, their relationship even more intricate than that of the sun and moon, and the imagery subtly reveals that seemingly inseparable bond.
Ashley didn't like the painting, partly because she and Aidan were the models, and partly because she had never been particularly interested in old stories. She had assumed that elven artists would value their own expression more than repeatedly depicting legendary deities.
Next came a group of musicians who claimed to be Aidan's apprentices. As soon as the melodious music began, the audience's gaze became hazy, as if they had entered another world.
The light, graceful rhythm made Ashlind want to dance, leaving her bewildered as to why she was there. Just last month, she was at home working with herbs; now, she was watching elves perform, like a dream.
Although the piece itself was an old piece that Aidan had quickly sketched, their skill was impeccable, and Queen Melia even showed a faint smile.
Then came the magnificent dances and exaggerated dramas...
Ashlyn found herself sweating profusely; she couldn't watch anymore.
“It’s our turn, Ashlin!” Lucas whispered, giving her an encouraging smile and extending his hand to her.
She took a deep breath, gently took his arm, and they went on stage together.
Lucas was more nervous than she was, she could sense it. His arms were trembling, and his eyes were darting around.
Thousands upon thousands of elf eyes were fixed on them.
Ashlin walked slowly, as if she had been stripped naked, under everyone's gaze.
Why hasn't she fainted yet?
The audience began to whisper among themselves, clearly puzzled by their empty hands, with some even shouting for them to get off the stage.
There were no musical instruments, no paintings, no fancy clothes; he was simply holding a potted plant.
What kind of art performance is this?
“As Her Majesty Melia said earlier, this gala is not only dedicated to all the living beings present, but also to the souls that have entered the spirit world,” Lucas began. “Our work is a gift to Her Majesty Melia, and also a gift to Princess Sheeta.”
Melia's eyes widened slightly, but no other emotion was apparent.
The moment has finally arrived.
Ashley decided to use an old trick: imagine all the audience members as carrots. Nobody was watching her.
However, this method didn't work; her magic was shrunken to the most hidden corner of her body. She was horrified to discover that she couldn't summon any magic at all.
So she replaced the carrot with Lucas.
Countless Lucas were watching her; some were people, and some were cats.
Just like in previous practice sessions, Lucas was teaching her, encouraging her, and supporting her.
She faced the potted plant, raised her hand, and the vines began to grow in a spiral.
The magic flowed from her heart, smooth and natural, no different from the feeling she had experienced during her seven days of practice.
That's it.
She concentrated intently, chanting the incantation in a low voice, making sure every syllable was accurate. She sketched the image of Princess Sheeta in her mind: large, bell-like eyes, a delicate nose, a rounded chin, soft, long hair, and a melancholy sitting posture.
She imagined Princess Sheeta's past and the future she could have had, a fairy girl turning back from the field, smiling brightly.
The vines grew and bent under her will, each arc just right, each connection point exactly as she envisioned.
Princess Sheeta first acquired the skeleton of vines, and then a white rose heart bloomed in her chest. It opened and closed, mimicking the real beating of a heart.
Tender leaves emerge, and long branches extend. Green vines climb gracefully along the human body's structure, intertwining and overlapping, filling the gaps in the branches, just as flesh and blood are added to a newly formed skeleton.
Sheeta's long hair was like slender, shimmering golden branches, swaying freely in the breeze. Pale yellow flowers and slightly curled leaves adorned her braids, just like the hair ornaments of a real girl.
Ashlin's magical plants gave her a second life.
The sculpture of life, the sculpture of magic, the sculpture of Sheeta.
She looked at the audience and found that their eyes were just as she had imagined: admiration, shock, and fascination.
Queen Melia's eyes were red, clearly not expecting them to put on such a show.
Ashlin realized that at this moment, she was the one in charge.
Even though she didn't use any magic related to the mind, her every move touched everyone's hearts.
Art doesn't need magic; it is magic itself.
She once thought that the withering of the sacred oak tree had extinguished the spirits' inspiration, which was why so many formulaic works appeared. But Aidan believed that the sacred oak tree was merely an inspiration, not a source.
Perhaps he is right.
Her magic finally obeyed her commands and submitted to her will.
She recalled the mess of plants in the room, the tattered spellbook, the dark circles under her eyes from insomnia, and Tara's words.
The seven days of practice were not in vain.
However, just as she was smugly waving her hand, intending to add flower eyes to Sheeta's plant sculpture, she saw something.
Wine glass.
The wine glasses that had been somewhat out of control had now quieted down and were resting quietly on the tables in the audience.
However, the wine in the glass was shaking.
No, it was the earth shaking, as if some slumbering beast had been awakened by her magic and was breaking free of its cage.
This illusion quickly disappeared.
Ashlin shook her head, trying to regain control of her power, but met a pair of purple eyes.
Aidan's eyes.
His eyes were incredibly strange, almost fanatical.
Her train of thought was interrupted once again. Ashlin's mind went blank; all the spectators seemed to have vanished, and even Lucas was thousands of meters away, his calls coming from the horizon.
She was no longer on the stage, but came to the sacred oak tree, just as Aidan had played for her that day.
On the pale trunk of the sacred oak, a woman's face appeared.
“You have crossed the boundaries of magic. If you need the magic flute, take it and leave,” Sylvina said. “Do not save Ilovia.”
The oak trees are gone, replaced by a battlefield.
The blade sliced across her waist, but failed to harm her in the slightest, for this was not her war. She turned into mist.
Ashlin was stunned and breathless, staring helplessly at the warriors and weapons. The warrior closest to her was holding a bow that looked extremely familiar.
Dragonbone Bow.
Upon closer inspection, she realized that the enemy was not an army, but a monster.
She had no idea where to look, because this guy had three different heads.
The lion's head bared its teeth at her, the goat's horns twisted strangely, and the python's tail slammed against the ground.
A chimera.
Many years ago, monsters like the Chimera ravaged the continent. They bred in the shadows of the moon, products of darkness. Some creatures could only be killed by weapons of extremely powerful magic, such as the Dragonbone Bow.
The witchers had to eliminate these monsters one by one, and those they failed to kill were imprisoned in the Edoro labyrinth.
Chimera is one of them.
She quickly realized that this scene came from the past. It was this battle that had led the Chimera into the labyrinth.
For some reason, the forest goddess decided to show her a battle against a dark creature.
However, the warrior wielding the dragonbone bow was not a Witcher.
He was a strong, dark-skinned elf. His face was familiar; Ashlin felt she had seen him somewhere before.
"Die, monster! Don't even think about harming Ilovia!" he roared, firing three arrows at the chimera in quick succession.
The elf looked confident and satisfied as the arrow pierced through three heads.
The chimera's three heads fell simultaneously, and golden blood gushed out.
But before it died, the snake's head sprayed green venom at the elf.
The elf cried out and retreated, his face contorted in pain.
Ashlin stumbled, and all the images faded away, revealing the bewildered elf audience in reality.
Before she fell off the stage, Lucas caught her in time: "Ashley, are you alright?"
She nodded reluctantly, trying to continue the performance, but her mind was in complete chaos. The feeling of "awakening the beast" was even stronger than before, but it no longer gave her confidence; instead, it turned into fear.
It wasn't just a feeling... something was actually awakening.
Is this what the forest goddess meant by showing her? Did she awaken a chimera-like creature? How could that be?
Another explanation is that she finally suffered a mental breakdown due to excessive pressure. It's hard to say which sounds better.
The vines went out of control; instead of blooming, they suddenly pierced out from the eye area of the Sheeta statue, like a murderous dagger.
The "dagger" grew longer and longer, shooting straight into the sky and piercing through the roof of the stage.
Several heavy wooden strips shattered and crashed down instantly, enough to kill any performer on stage.
Ashlinn froze, her mind reeling, completely unaware that death was already beckoning her. She was still thinking about the monster awakening in her sixth sense, Aidan's almost crazed eyes, the goddess's face on the Divine Oak, the chimera, and the poisoned elven warrior.
In comparison, winning over the Queen seemed so insignificant.
In the nick of time, Lucas grabbed Ashlin's wrist and shoved her violently toward the side stage. She stumbled and crashed into the curtain, narrowly escaping injury.
But he didn't have time to dodge, and a piece of wood hit him squarely on the shoulder. The wood chips embedded themselves in his flesh, causing him to cry out in pain.
Ashlin quickly helped him up again and touched the wet liquid.
Blood.
Even the flying magic goblets were stunned, some hovering in mid-air in confusion, others exploding in shock, the glass shards causing the elves to scatter in fear.
Only Melia slowly stood up, her face reminiscent of a frozen lake.
Ashlin's heart sank to her stomach.
She messed everything up.
Sheeta's plant sculptures failed to turn out as they had planned, spiraling completely out of control. Art became a disaster, and a gift became a stain.
Melia emanated an aura of coldness. She raised her hand, her voice utterly indifferent.
"Enough. Your performance ends here," she said coldly. "Get out of here."
“Wait!” Lucas shouted, then winced in pain. “It’s not over yet. This is all part of the performance, believe me, Your Majesty. I… I said we would present a surprise gift, and the prince of Helian City never breaks his promise. Please be patient.”
He clutched his shoulder, stepped aside, and grabbed Ashlin's skirt.
"Continue the performance."
"What are you doing? You need healing!" she cried urgently. "It's all my fault. I've hurt you so many times, and now I've made you injured! If only I could heal you now..."
“Let’s correct this mistake first,” he said breathlessly. “Our savior… is coming soon.”
"I haven't seen any sign of her."
“I’m going to find her.” Lucas stood up, but groaned in pain and had to sit down again.
"Let me do it," a woman's voice rang out. "You guys hang in there."
She swallowed hard, trying her best to remain calm, and nodded.
She looked at Lucas. He was still clutching his wound, his black hair a mess, but his bay-blue eyes calmed her heart.
She is no longer the little girl who was flustered and at a loss when faced with a prince who turned into a cat.
She defeated a mad bar patron, cut her hand to donate blood for a riddle, escaped from the dark magic of dragon glass, soared through the air with a dragon, worked as a model in exchange for illegal sketches, and practiced magic day and night with Lucas—all for reasons other than to lose face on the stage of Ilovian and destroy everything they had painstakingly planned.
No, that's not true.
She must be brave enough to pull herself together, get the performance back on track, and stop letting distracting thoughts cloud her judgment.
Daydreaming is utterly useless. She had made various excuses for her failed treatment of Lucas: the lost notes and the overgrown plants had panicked her, she wasn't good at intricate spells, she had difficulty concentrating...
But this time, she had no excuse.
This time, she has to rely on herself.
She waved her hands, uttering one green, shimmering spell after another, more like reciting poetry than creating a statue.
The branches and leaves retreated from the top of the fence, gradually returning to the statue of Sheeta, weaving her a long dress that was even greener than the forest in midsummer.
Next, thicker branches sprouted from the small amount of soil in the pot, forming the shape of a bench and supporting Hida's elegant sitting posture.
Flowers bloomed successfully in her eyes, their fragrance filling the air. Pollen, imbued with a spell, was sprinkled down upon the audience, swirling and spreading through the air. The entire square was filled with the intense and intoxicating scent of roses.
Sheeta's statue is near perfect.
A little girl, woven and intertwined with vines, white roses, and branches, sits forlornly on a bench covered in leaves, her hand on her skirt. Her flowery eyes gaze into a distance even more distant than Her Majesty Melia, as if she will never return.
However, Melia remained unmoved, only her anger subsided somewhat.
Ashlin sighed.
As expected, they were ultimately unable to move the heart of this cold female elf with art and magic alone.
Now, only one factor remains.
Ashlin stood behind the statue, her gaze sweeping over everyone, searching for Tara.
Just then, Ashlin saw Tara.
There were no ghosts around Tara.
This means...
She quickly looked at her work again.
The little white soul had already entered the vine body and blinked its flower-shaped eyes.
“Hello,” the statue uttered in a clear, childlike voice, “Mother.”
The audience was utterly shocked, and Melia was completely motionless and stiff.
The atmosphere of the entire party froze.
“This is impossible.” Melia turned sharply to Ashlin. “This…this is dark magic. I knew it, I knew you were a dark wizard!”
Ashlin was startled by this sudden slander, but she did not back down.
She met Melia's gaze and was about to defend herself when she was interrupted by the statue.
“You’ve misunderstood, Mother,” Hida said sadly. “Please don’t trace my origins. It was just an accident, and it has nothing to do with Ashlin or Lucas.”
Ashlin looked expectantly at the Queen, who paused for a moment before saying, "All elves, step back."
“Melia…” Aidan grasped his sister’s hand.
"The party is now over," the Queen announced.
The elves fled in shock and dismay. Ashlyn returned to Lucas, intending to heal his wounds with magic, but he raised his hand to stop her.
She was saddened by this distrust, but she could also understand it.
Lucas certainly didn't want her to misunderstand the spell again and add extra curses to it, like being a cat during the day and a mosquito at night.
“Send him to the elven healer,” Ashlin said to Tara.
"Please don't do this," Lucas said weakly. "I need to talk to Melia..."
Ashlin was immediately a little unconvinced.
You mean I can't communicate?
“I’ll take him to Setil right now,” Tara said. “He’s the most skilled physician I can see now.”
The name Setiel seemed to make Lucas change his mind in an instant, and it's unclear what he was thinking.
He obediently followed Tara away.
Melia slowly approached the spirit statue of Sheeta, gently stroking her face woven from vines. The light of her soul shone through the gaps in the vines, like a giant humanoid lamp.
"My daughter," she murmured, "I don't know what to say..."
“You don’t need to say anything,” Hita said. “But I have something to tell you. Mother, don’t dwell on your grief anymore.”
“It’s all my fault,” Melia said in a low voice. “I know the elves are allergic… I should have refused the orcs’ gift; they never meant any good, but I gave in…”
The statue let out a long sigh.
"What killed me was never a gift from the orcs."
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