The stars burn high over the Elven capital, their silver shimmer filtered through the impossibly tall trees that form the outer canopy of the royal palace. Lanterns of living light sway on vines above a great marble courtyard that sprawls like a blooming flower. Wide, regal, and steeped in centuries of reverent tradition.
It is the Night of the Heartroot, an ancient celebration of the First Tree, whose roots are said to spread beneath the entire kingdom. One night a year, elves gather beneath the boughs of the palace to toast to memory, growth, and the forging of new bonds. Which, of course, means one thing to Vaela…
Political theater. In designer gowns.
