The Elder's Counsel

The air in Elder Elara’s chambers was thick with the scent of dried herbs and something else, something ancient and undisturbed, like the dust of forgotten stars. It clung to the tapestries depicting celestial maps I’d never seen, to the shelves laden with scrolls bound in leather I couldn’t identify, and to Elara herself. She sat on a low stool carved from what looked like petrified moonlight, her eyes, the colour of twilight, fixed on me. They held a depth that made me feel like a child, exposed and utterly transparent.

“You seek answers, Lyra,” she stated, her voice a low hum, like wind chimes made of bone. It wasn’t a question.

I nodded, my throat tight. Kael had urged me to speak with her, to trust her counsel. He’d said Elara understood the heart of this realm, its joys and its sorrows, better than anyone. But seeing her now, surrounded by the weight of centuries, I felt a tremor of apprehension. Kael’s assurances felt fragile against the sheer immensity of her presence.