Chapter 33: Last night with Lyriel
Urell stepped closer, his boots silent against the polished wood floor, "Strange things are frowned upon in the elven world," he said, his voice softening but carrying a weight that made Alex pause, "They disrupt the order of things, The harmony."
"So I’ve heard," Alex replied, his smile fading as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "I’m ready to face whatever hardships come with it, Strange or not."
Urell studied him for a long moment, his silver eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for something beneath Alex’s words, Then, abruptly, he shifted, folding his arms across his chest, "I’m being tested tomorrow," he said, the change in subject so sudden it took Alex a heartbeat to catch up, "At the academy, For my ability."
Alex raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself, "Really?"
Urell nodded, a faint glimmer of pride breaking through his otherwise calm demeanor, "Every elf manifests one, sooner or later, A gift from the blood, Mine hasn’t shown itself yet, but tomorrow the assessment starts, They’ll see if it’s stirred," He paused, then added, "The record for the youngest to manifest is held by a boy named Bastian, I’m hoping to break it."
The living room stretched wide and warm around them, its high ceiling adorned with delicate carvings of twisting vines that seemed to shift in the flickering lanternlight
Alex leaned against the arm of the moss-green couch where he’d been dozing earlier, the cushions still rumpled beneath him, their soft fabric catching the faint glow
Across the room, Urell stood near the wide window, his silver hair glinting like a thread of moonlight against the darkening glass, The air held a trace of the evening outside, pine and distant blossoms, mingling with the teasing scent of roasted herbs drifting from the kitchen
Alex nodded toward Urell, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips, "I’m rooting for you," he said, his voice breaking the quiet, "Tomorrow, I mean, Breaking that record, it’d be something to see."
Urell’s lips curved into a grin, sharp and confident, the kind of expression that seemed too bold for his age, "I don’t need luck," he replied, his tone steady and sure, His silver eyes glinted with a quiet defiance, as if the very idea of chance was beneath him.