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Elowynn worried over those letters. They made her study harder, her determination motivating her.
She wrote back as often as roads and couriers allowed. She told him of the ongoing faction disputes, Lora’s latest social offense disguised as charm, Alyra’s swordsmanship, her own research, Vaelor’s newest attempt to corner her beneath disdainful condescension, and every discovery she thought might interest him.
She rarely told him how often she missed him anymore.
At least, not in plain terms. Some truths became more dangerous when written, and she would not risk his safety.
Her mother wrote less often, though each letter carried a solemnity Elowynn had come to recognize with age. Seralyth never confessed loneliness, but it lived between her elegant letters. She wrote of Lumenshire gardens, of weather along the coast, of the remembrance rites, of old noble families making discreet inquiries after Elowynn’s prospects within the Spire.
Elowynn ignored those particular sections whenever possible.
Agatha’s missives were—mercifully—shorter.
Most contained corrections while some contained warnings. One even read:
Do not let Vaelor place you inside a box because he prefers history to be shelved and forgotten. That man collects talented young scholars the way dragons collect gold. Be hard to hoard.
Elowynn had laughed for an entire bell.
Despite the distance, Lumenshire remained present. Not as the whole of her life anymore, but as the foundation beneath it. The place that had saved her. The place that had held her grief until she became strong enough to carry it herself.
Where Veylspire had given her power, Lumenshire had given her new roots.
And somewhere between them, Elowynn had become something neither city could fully claim.
One thing was for certain, though.
She could manipulate astrylite with enough precision to make the most senior of scholars visibly wary of what she might eventually be able to achieve.
Unfortunately, tomorrow’s demonstration was unlikely to improve their worries.
Chapter Eighteen
“A scholar’s reputation is built one careful observation at a time.”
— Foundations of Astrari Scholarship
Morning light spilled through the towering crystalline windows, scattering splintered bands of silver and gold across the polished stone floors of Elowynn’s chambers. Two turnings earlier, she had been moved from the lower scholar’s quarters into the upper Spire—chambers reserved for prestigious archivists, senior researchers, and those Veylspire had begun recognizing as important figures amongst the denizens of the city.
Her original quarters within the eastern archive towers had been small and practical, with lower ceilings and simple furnishings. Those rooms had been intended for junior scholars still proving themselves.
The room she had now was a stark contrast to her once modest chamber; it was rich in elegance but lacking in softness. It was scholarly without austerity. Every surface seemed built with the assumption that beauty and knowledge naturally belonged together.
The suite occupied a curved corner high within the upper observatory district where several suspended bridges converged between towers. One entire wall consisted of enormous circular windows overlooking the southern half of Veylspire. Even now, bells after dawn, the city glittered beneath wisps of mountain mist while reso-tech rail lines traced a faint luminosity between terraces far below.
Books crowded every available surface. Stacks of theory texts and annotated celestial records occupied the edges of polished cedarwood tables while rolled star charts overflowed from carved storage alcoves built directly into the stone walls.
Alyra had also begun leaving fresh mountain lilies within a vase near the windows. She often remarked, "I wasn't sure whether to bring you flowers or a map back to civilization."
Elowynn privately maintained the assessment was exaggerated, though not entirely inaccurate.
Now, standing before the tall mirror near her wardrobe, Elowynn was fastening the final clasps along the sleeves of her formal gown. The sun’s demonstration required diplomacy as much as brilliance, which meant appearances mattered in the eyes of the upper echelons.
The dress she had selected was a deep, midnight blue and threaded with thin silver embroidery; it shimmered whenever it caught the light. The fitted bodice curved around her torso with elegance beneath layered outer robes that split at the front for easier movement. Delicate convergence patterns had been worked into the cuffs and collar with fine silver thread, so subtle they revealed themselves only upon closer inspection.
It was formal enough for the symposium chamber, but practical enough for resonance work.
While most scholars dressed in dark blue or silver robes marked by institutional insignias, Veylspire fashion remained exorbitant in comparison to the styles of the abbey. Astrari tailoring within the city favored long, dramatic silhouettes and layered fabrics meant to resemble flowing celestial motion.
