It was the first day of summer.
Eddleguar stirred before dawn, as it always did. The city never truly slept—only shifted its rhythm with the turning of the tide. By the time the first streaks of gold touched the waters of the Ashen Bay, the harbor was already alive with motion and sound.
Dockworkers shouted orders over the groan of ropes and the splash of anchors. Ships from distant lands lined the piers, their hulls heavy with crates of grain, salted fish, iron, and foreign cloth. The smell of the sea—salt, oil, and tar—mingled with the sharper tang of citrus peels and roasted nuts from the food stalls that had just begun to open. Gulls wheeled above, their cries mingling with the chatter of sailors bargaining for a day's wage or a night's drink.
Beyond the docks, the narrow streets of Eddleguar pulsed with a different kind of life. Merchants swept dust from their doorsteps, calling to passing customers with practiced charm. Bakers slid trays of steaming bread onto wooden counters, filling the air with a warmth that competed with the rising sun. Children darted between legs and wagons, chasing one another with sticks that became swords or masts in their imagination.
Carriages clattered along the cobblestones, some carrying nobles or guild officials, others stacked high with goods bound for the upper districts. Street criers shouted the latest proclamations, and blacksmiths' hammers rang out like bells, echoing through the stone alleys. The rhythm of trade and toil filled every corner—steady, relentless, alive.
In a quieter part of the city, near the steps of the old temple, two children sat by the fountain. Locals still spoke of them in passing—the orphan pair who had been struck by a reckless carriage months ago, saved by the castle's young noble girl. Some said she had laid hands upon them and light had poured from her palms; others whispered it was a miracle granted by the gods. Whatever the truth, Eddleguar's people remembered. They didn't know her name, only that a kind girl from the castle had once looked down upon the city and shown mercy.
But the city had little time for wonders. By midday, the harbor was a storm of motion again—ships departing, wagons rolling, the market square ringing with barter and laughter. From dawn to dusk, Eddleguar moved like a living thing, driven by trade, rumor, and the endless call of the sea.
And as the day burned bright over the Ashen Bay, its people worked, shouted, laughed, and dreamed—just as they always had. Summer had come, and Eddleguar was alive.
As the sun climbed high over the Ashen Bay, the castle of Everlane shone like a beacon above the city—alive with excitement, expectation, and a quiet, trembling wonder.
And as morning unfolded, it grew even busier—each hallway echoing with hurried footsteps and whispered instructions. The air itself seemed charged, not just with activity, but with significance. Today was not merely Lady Saphy's fifth birthday—it was her Awakening Day, the moment every noble family both cherished and feared.
In this world, the Awakening Ceremony marked the true beginning of one's life. It was the moment a child's inner nature revealed itself—their talent, their path, the gift the world had chosen for them. Some awakened the flow of magic, able to call upon flame or frost with a word. Others found the strength of warriors, craftsmen, or healers. To nobles, this ceremony was sacred, a reflection of lineage and destiny. The ability one awakened could raise a house's standing—or cast doubt upon its future.
So, though Saphy was still but a small girl, her Awakening carried the weight of generations.
The castle moved like a great living thing, preparing for that single moment. Servants hurried through the corridors with stacks of cloth and flower baskets, polishing railings and shining windows until they gleamed. The scent of lilies and rosewater drifted from the grand hall, where the family's ancient crystal—an heirloom said to glow in response to awakening energy—was being set upon its pedestal.
In the kitchens, the atmosphere was that of organized chaos. Chefs shouted orders as fires roared and utensils clattered. Platters of fruit and pastries were arranged with care, though none would be served until evening, when the noble guests would arrive for the grand feast. Even Ironbeard, the castle's blacksmith, had been summoned early—not for metalwork, but to help set the ceremonial stands of silver and gold.
Outside, the courtyard rang with the sounds of preparation. Stable hands brushed the horses, polishing the visiting carriages that would soon carry noble families up the hill. Guards inspected their armor and banners, each one determined to look their best on such a momentous day.
Everywhere, the same whisper followed: "Today the young Lady awakens."
And somewhere within her chambers, Saphy sat before the mirror, her small hands folded in her lap. The maids fussed over her dress, her hair, her ribbons—yet her thoughts were far away. Today, she would discover who she truly was.
Though the guests would not arrive until evening, the castle was already brimming with anticipation. The Awakening Ceremony was not just a birthday tradition—it was the unveiling of destiny. And for House Everlane, whose name carried weight across both sea and land, the awakening of their young heir would be remembered for years to come.
The first day of summer had dawned bright and full of promise—and Everlane Castle stood alive, radiant, and trembling with expectation.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the warm colors of day melted into twilight, Everlane Castle transformed.
The once-bustling fortress now glowed like a jewel upon the hill overlooking Eddleguar. Hundreds of lanterns lined the walls, their soft golden light mingling with the shimmer of magical orbs that floated gently in the air. Enchanted ribbons of color—blue, silver, and pale rose—twirled above the courtyards like living streams of light. From the highest tower, a cascade of faintly glowing petals drifted downward, vanishing just before they touched the ground.
The castle was alive with brilliance and sound. Musicians played softly from balconies; laughter and conversation echoed through the open halls. Every pillar, every banner, every flower had been placed with care, and now all stood at their most beautiful, as if the castle itself were preparing to witness something sacred.
Soon, the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed up the winding road leading to the gates. One by one, luxurious carriages emerged from the dusk, their lacquered sides reflecting the lights of the castle. Each bore the insignia of a noble house—crests of lions, swords, wings, and stars—marking the power and pride of those within.
At the grand gate, heralds announced each arrival in loud, clear voices. "House Fenrielle of the Northern Coast!" — "Lord and Lady Verrin of Highstead!" — "Sir Darven of the Sapphire Order!"
Inside the entrance hall stood Williams, the young heir of House Astley. Dressed in formal attire far too tight for his liking, he shifted uneasily as each new guest arrived. His golden hair was combed back immaculately, his silver-embroidered tunic shone under the light—but the scowl tugging at the edge of his smile betrayed his mood.
"Welcome to Everlane Castle," he said for what felt like the hundredth time, bowing slightly. His tone was polite, his expression carefully composed—but his eyes held the weariness of someone who would rather be anywhere else.
Every time he caught his reflection in the tall mirror behind him, he had to remind himself to straighten up, to smile, to act like the perfect noble he was supposed to be. Father would have my head if I slipped even once, he thought bitterly.
As the next carriage rolled through the gate, its insignia gleaming in the torchlight, Williams forced his expression into a pleasant grin once more. The soft hum of music swelled, the smell of flowers and sweet wine filled the air, and laughter rippled through the hall.
The evening of Lady Saphy's fifth birthday—and her Awakening Ceremony—had officially begun.