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VAELITH

I stand at the center of Orthani’s grand courtyard, surrounded by more onlookers than I’ve seen since the siege.

Torches flicker against twilight’s fading light, illuminating the columns that still bear scorch marks from the Red Purna’s assault.

The air hums with a tense mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Voices drift over the crowd—whispers, hushed exclamations—as people crane their necks to watch the ceremony we’ve arranged on short notice.

I inhale slowly, trying to center my thoughts.

I’m wearing my formal armor, polished as best as possible despite recent battles, and my House’s sigils gleam in the torchlight.

To my left, Eryx fidgets with the hem of his dark tunic, scanning the gathered mass with that roguish confidence in his half-smile.

To my right, Zareth stands straight-backed, his robes bearing the Velcorin crest. He is regal and impassive, though I notice the slight tension in his jaw betraying his nerves.

The city rarely witnesses any ceremony involving purna—much less one forging alliances in public.

Beyond us, King Rython Vatoris watches from a raised platform, arms folded.

His expression is measured, neither approving nor condemning.

He allowed this event, no doubt to keep Orthani stable.

But I sense the undercurrent of power beneath his calm.

He won’t relinquish his throne easily, yet we’re here to show that Orthani will honor Selene without dethroning him—an uneasy balance.

A hush ripples through the courtyard, drawing my attention.

Selene appears at the far end of the plaza, stepping into the open amid a slow drumbeat that echoes off the stone walls.

My heart lurches at the sight of her—dressed in a flowing gown of deep crimson, purna markings gracing her arms. The flicker of torchlight dances over her confident stride.

People shift to give her space, half in awe, half in lingering fear.

I exchange a quick glance with Eryx, who nods in silent admiration, and Zareth’s gaze flicks toward her, composed yet charged with intensity. Selene crosses the courtyard, each step exuding quiet power. Around us, murmurs intensify:

“She’s the purna who turned Orthani’s fate…”

“… Fought off the Red Purna and forced a negotiation…”

“… She took three dark elves as her consorts, so they say… maybe it’s just rumors.”

Their voices confirm the swirling gossip.

Some remain hesitant, uncertain whether to bow or spit.

My chest tightens, remembering how Orthani’s old laws would’ve demanded her execution.

Now, she strides through the heart of the city to stand before the King and the watchers, forging an official vow that acknowledges her place without toppling the monarchy.

She stops before the raised platform, chin lifted, the quiet weight of her presence silencing onlookers. Zareth and Eryx move to flank me, forming a small arc. A hush falls as I step forward to greet her.

“Selene,” I say, voice firm, though tension coils within me. “We gather here to affirm your standing in Orthani. King Rython remains on the throne, but the city acknowledges your influence. Tonight, we formalize that recognition.”

Her gaze sweeps over me, over Eryx and Zareth, then across the assembled crowd. “Yes. Orthani must see we aren’t here to dismantle everything. We stand to guide it away from centuries of cruelty and into a new era. Let them watch as we affirm a shared oath.”

A flicker of satisfaction crosses King Rython’s face; he steps to the edge of his platform.

“Hear me, Orthani,” he proclaims, voice resonating.

“We convene under the twilight’s blessing to acknowledge a vow: that purna no longer hide in shadows, that they need not fear extermination.

And in turn, we reaffirm the monarchy and council. ”

A ripple of interest moves through the crowd. I spot a few battered nobles in the front row, along with purna survivors, humans peering from behind columns, even some orcs traveling through Orthani’s outskirts. All stand enthralled by the unexpected union about to unfold.

My pulse quickens. I pivot, stepping to the dais that once served for Orthani’s official ceremonies.

Eryx and Zareth follow. Selene advances behind us, her gown trailing across the cracked stones.

Once we’re assembled, we face the watchers—three dark elf men, publicly declaring ourselves devoted to a purna woman.

The older tradition demanded a single “mate,” if ever recognized.

But we subvert it. The entire crowd sees this is more than a typical vow: it’s a living testament to Selene’s unique power over each of us.

Taking a breath, I address the gathering.

“Orthani. I am Vaelith Zothani, once solely loyal to our ancient warrior code. I stand before you having witnessed how a single purna, Selene Varess, saved this city from ruin. She holds no lust for the throne, yet she claims a role in Orthani’s future.

In public vow, I pledge my devotion, for she commands my respect—and more. ”

My words hang in the air. Soft gasps rustle through the crowd; I see older warriors exchange stunned looks. They recall I was the paragon of Orthani discipline. Now I stand, acknowledging my bond to a purna in front of them. My throat feels dry, but I force myself to hold firm.

Eryx steps up next, smirking for the onlookers.

“I’m Eryx Hazeth, once a disgraced noble turned assassin in Orthani’s underbelly.

I found redemption and a cause in Selene’s magic.

She lured me from darkness, forging a path no one else dared.

Before you all, I vow my loyalty to her.

She’s no captive. She’s the one I choose to follow, even as the city unravels old prejudices. ”

A hush of shock greets his statement, though a few nod with reluctant admiration.

Eryx’s swagger resonates, reminding them of the city’s hidden labyrinth where he once thrived.

Now he stands here, arms bared, a dark elf assassin turned guardian for a purna.

If that isn’t enough scandal, there’s still Zareth.

Zareth’s expression remains controlled, though tension radiates from him.

He inclines his head. “I am Zareth Velcorin, scion of House Velcorin, once enthralled by the city’s psionic traditions.

I attempted to dominate Selene, only to learn her will surpasses mine.

Rather than kill me, she opened my eyes to Orthani’s potential for rebirth.

Today, I declare my devotion to her cause and her power. ”

He speaks with unwavering calm, but I detect the flicker of humility—rare for him.

The mention of his earlier attempt to enslave her draws murmurs.

Many recall rumors of how Zareth Velcorin prided himself on mind-breaking foes.

That he now kneels to a purna in public underscores how thoroughly Selene reshaped Orthani’s dynamics.

A hush deepens. The crowd waits. Finally, Selene steps forward, glancing at King Rython, who nods for her to address the assembly.

She turns, voice clear yet measured, audible to every corner of the courtyard.

“You see three warriors, each once powerful in Orthani’s realm, now standing at my side.

That is not submission alone. It is partnership.

They willingly bind themselves to me, and I accept them.

In turn, I vow not to overthrow Orthani’s throne.

I vow to aid this city, ensuring purna and other marginalized groups are no longer hunted. ”

Her gaze sweeps the watchers. “We hold a precarious peace. The Red Purna might rise again, or new threats might test us. In forging this vow, I stand with Orthani, not under it. I claim a seat on the council to keep peace, to open a place for purna. And in this ceremony, I reaffirm my bond with these men—Vaelith, Eryx, Zareth—who share my path.”

From the edges of the courtyard, I spot purna refugees watching with tears in their eyes.

Some humans cling to hope, perhaps seeing a shift in the city’s cruel hierarchy.

A few older nobles remain stern, arms folded, yet keep silent.

The tension crackles in the air, uncertain whether to erupt into applause or protest.

Vaelith. My name resonates from her lips, and my heart drums in my chest. I realize she’s beckoning me forward again. I step to her side, ignoring the dryness in my throat. She meets my eyes with an intimate warmth that momentarily blocks out the entire throng.

“You once commanded Orthani’s forces,” she says softly, yet loud enough for all to hear. “Now you stand beside me, forging new traditions. Do you willingly vow, before this city, that our bond remains unbroken by old hatred—that we share power to guide Orthani, not crush it?”

My breath catches. “I do.” The words tumble out with quiet conviction. My old warrior pride bristles at being so vulnerable, but I recall the battles we fought together. This vow is my truth. “I vow to guard you as you guard me, to follow your lead in forging Orthani’s next chapter.”

Her lips form a slight smile. She turns next to Eryx and Zareth, repeating a similar statement.

Each affirms their vow—Eryx with a roguish grin, Zareth with controlled intensity.

Onlookers strain to hear every syllable.

Then she claims each vow with a nod, voice low but firm.

“And I accept your devotion, as I share mine. Let Orthani witness a union that does not chain purna beneath dark elf rule, but unites us in forging peace.”

A few scattered cheers break the tension. Purna among the crowd clap, uncertain but hopeful. A handful of elves exhale relief that Selene hasn’t declared herself queen. I notice King Rython’s measured half-smile from his vantage point, likely satisfied that his throne remains unchallenged. For now.