The days blurred together, forming a relentless cycle of training, studying, and persistence.
Nyx spent her mornings in the dungeons, tearing through raid after raid. She honed her dagger skill, sharpened her instincts, and pushed herself beyond exhaustion. The creatures inside the dungeons felt significantly weaker with each encounter, she was becoming too strong for these F class monsters she needed more challenges.
She welcomed the challenge.
Afternoons were different. Instead of battle, she drowned herself in knowledge. She sat for hours in the grand library, flipping through fragile pages filled with centuries-old traditions and ceremonial blueprints. The more she read, the more she understood:
*Colors weren’t just decoration—they represented lineage, alliances, and divine favor.
*Dances weren’t just performances—they told stories, passed down through generations.
*The structure of the festival wasn’t just aesthetic—it followed a celestial pattern, aligning with the movement of the stars.
Every thread, every step, every sound had meaning.
And in between fighting and studying—she kept asking to help.
Again.
And again.
And again.
“No.”
The answer was always the same.
Every time Nyx or Lorienna approached the festival committee, they were shut down.
“We don’t need your assistance.”
“The arrangements are already in place.”
“This is an elven festival, not a human one.”
The polite refusals came first, wrapped in tight smiles and controlled tones.
Then, as days passed, patience wore thin.
By the end of the week, they weren’t even trying to hide their irritation.
“You are hindering our progress.”
Nyx barely reacted as the head organizer—a sharp-faced elf with a permanently furrowed brow—glared at her.
Lorienna leaned lazily against the planning table, unimpressed. “We’re offering help. How exactly is that slowing you down?”
The elf exhaled, rubbing his temples as if he were dealing with children. “By forcing us to waste time telling you no.”
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Nyx crossed her arms. “Then say yes, and you won’t have to deal with us anymore.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “That is not happening.”
Nyx wasn’t surprised.
Neither was Lorienna.
But that didn’t mean they were giving up.
Eventually, the committee reached their limit.
A full meeting was called—not to discuss festival arrangements, but to deal with Nyx and Lorienna.
Six elves stood before them, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and barely concealed frustration.
Thalindra, who had maintained an air of diplomacy until now, exhaled sharply. Her patience had finally snapped.
“This ends now.”
Lorienna tilted her head. “Ends what?”
Thalindra’s emerald eyes narrowed. “The constant interruptions. The refusal to take no for an answer. The complete disregard for the fact that we have been planning this event for months without your interference.”
Nyx said nothing.
She wasn’t here to argue.
Thalindra’s voice dropped, her tone firm. “If you continue pestering us, we will ban you from the venue until the festival begins.”
A heavy silence followed.
Lorienna blinked. “You’re joking.”
“We are not.”
Nyx looked at Lorienna. Lorienna looked at Nyx.
Then, Nyx shrugged. “Alright.”
Thalindra’s eyes narrowed further. “Alright?”
“We’ll stop bothering you,” Nyx said simply.
Lorienna shot her a glance but didn’t object.
Satisfied, the elves shifted back to their work.
That was their mistake.
Nyx still planned.
She still studied.
She still prepared the festival in secret.
The Proud Peacock Constellation God of Lust demanded spectacle, and Uriel would not allow her to fail.
As the days passed, her vision sharpened.
*The colors she chose would capture the sun and moonlight alike, shifting seamlessly between dusk and dawn.
*The performances she designed would be unlike anything the elves had ever witnessed—grander, more immersive, something unforgettable.
*The festival’s layout would flow like a story, pulling attendees through an experience they wouldn’t just see, but feel.
She wasn’t just creating an event.
She was crafting a masterpiece.
One that couldn’t be ignored.
Even if no one knew it yet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, Nyx lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
She sighed.
“How do I get them to agree with my plans?”
She’d gone through every approach—every argument, every angle.
Nothing was enough.
As she pondered, Uriel’s voice slipped into her mind.
“I can assist you, if you’d like.”
Nyx blinked.
She wasn’t expecting that.
“Really?” she asked aloud. “How, though? You can’t do much physically.”
A quiet moment passed. Then, for the first time ever—Uriel chuckled.
It was faint, barely there. But Nyx heard it.
She shot up, eyes wide. “Did you just—” She stared into the empty room. “Did you just laugh?”
Uriel didn’t answer immediately. Then—
“You must be hearing things.”
Nyx gawked. “No way. I definitely heard you.”
“I wasn’t chuckling.”
A beat of silence.
Nyx narrowed her eyes, suspicion curling in her mind.
“Uh-huh. If you say so.”
Uriel didn’t respond.
Internally, Nyx made a vow.
One day, she was going to catch Uriel slipping again.
“Anyway,” she said, shaking off the weird moment, “you were offering help?”
“Yes.”
Nyx leaned back against her pillows. “If you can make them accept my plans, then sure. How exactly are you going to do that?”
A pause.
Then, Uriel answered, “That’s a secret. You’ll just have to wait.”
Nyx frowned. “That’s not comforting.”
“You will like the result, I assure you.”
“…That’s still not comforting.”
Uriel ignored her. “When is the ceremony set to begin?”
“In two weeks.”
“Perfect. It will be handled before then, so there will be ample time.”
Nyx sat up slightly, watching the dim glow of the lantern in the corner of her room.
“Whatever you’re up to,” she said slowly, “make sure nobody gets hurt.”
“You have my word.”
She exhaled. “Fine. I’ll trust you on this.”
“Good choice.”
Nyx ran a hand through her hair. “I’m still anxious to know what you’re planning.”
“You’ll just have to wait and find out.”
“That almost sounds ominous,” she muttered, eyes squinting slightly.
Uriel said nothing.
Nyx sighed, laying back down, leaving it all in Uriel’s hands.
