Sprites and Starlit Trades

The dawn broke gently over the River of Light, its waters shimmering with a soft, bioluminescent glow that painted the surrounding trees in hues of blue and silver. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp moss and blooming starpetals, their delicate petals glowing faintly along the riverbank. Akira stirred in the elven tent, its silk and vine weave blending seamlessly with the forest, and slipped out quietly, careful not to wake Elara. His boots crunched softly on the grass as he wandered toward the river, drawn by its serene beauty. The twin moons, Aetheria and Nocturna, lingered in the pale sky, their light mingling with the river’s radiance, creating an ethereal scene that felt like a dream.

As he reached the bank, Akira paused, his breath catching. In the shallow waters, a water sprite danced, its form a shimmering cascade of liquid light, like a living ripple shaped vaguely like a small figure with flowing hair. It twirled and leaped, its movements graceful, leaving trails of sparkling droplets that glowed like tiny stars before fading into the current. The sprite’s laughter was a soft chime, blending with the river’s gentle murmur, and Akira stood transfixed, his heart swelling with the wonder of Arathia’s magic. He didn’t approach, respecting the sprite’s space, but the sight filled him with a quiet joy, a reminder of why he loved this world.

Returning to the camp, Akira stoked the fire, its embers glowing faintly from the previous night. He set a small pot to boil, adding dried moonberries and herbs from Elara’s satchel to make tea, its sweet, floral aroma rising in the cool air. As the sun climbed higher, Elara emerged from the tent, her silver hair tousled, her green dress slightly wrinkled, but her green eyes bright with morning energy. “You’re up early,” she said, smiling as she sat beside him, accepting the steaming cup he offered.

Akira grinned, his dark hair catching the sunlight. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said, sipping his tea. “I walked to the river and saw something incredible—a water sprite, dancing in the water. It was like… liquid starlight, moving with the current.”

Elara’s eyes widened, her cup pausing midway to her lips. “A water sprite? Akira, you’re so lucky! They’re rare, even here. I saw one once with Grandmother, but only for a moment. They’re shy, only dancing when they feel safe.” She leaned closer, her voice excited. “I wish I’d seen it! What did it look like?”

“Like a ripple with a mind of its own,” he said, his voice soft with awe. “It spun and leaped, leaving sparkles in the water. I didn’t want to disturb it, but it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen here.”

Elara’s smile was radiant, her hand finding his. “That’s a gift, Akira. The river must trust you. Next time, wake me—I want to see it, too.”

He laughed, squeezing her hand. “Promise. I’ll drag you out at dawn if I have to.”

But suddenly, a realization hit Akira. After coming to this new world, how can he understand them? He never thought that because everything felt very natural. Akira leaned forward. "How are we gonna talk with Durin? Don't dwarves have their own language?"

Elara burst into laughter. "I totally forgot that you didn't talk to other races besides elves until now. Don't worry, my love. This is a world where we all speak the same language, regardless of where you go and with whom you interact. You can understand them, and they can understand you." 

Akira felt a bit of relief, but he had another question. "How can I understand you all as soon as I arrive in this world?"

"Hmmm, I think that it has something to do with the book. The book was a Starweave Relic, made by ancient elves to connect worlds. Perhaps that book provides a cheat code that enables you to understand us. So that you can talk with us, help us," said Elara. 

Akira's eyes lit up. "Maybe that's the case." 

They ate a simple breakfast—Hana’s herb-infused flatbreads and dried moonberries—savoring the quiet moment by the river. The forest hummed with life, birds with glowing feathers flitting through the trees, their songs a soft, melodic harmony. Packing their gear, they checked their trade goods: baskets of carrots, lettuce, strawberries, moonberries, and two jars of Hana’s apple preserves, carefully wrapped to survive the journey. Elara secured her druidic satchel, its vials of moonlight essence and healing salves clinking softly, while Akira ensured Varyn’s letter for Durin was safe in his pack.

By mid-morning, they set off, following the River of Light upstream toward the Silverpeak Mountains. The path ascended gradually, the forest giving way to rocky foothills where silver-leafed trees clung to steep slopes, their roots curling like ancient hands. The air grew cooler, scented with pine and stone, and the distant peaks loomed, their crags dusted with late spring mist. Akira marveled at the landscape, so different from Greenwood’s lush fields, each step revealing Arathia’s vast beauty—a patch of glowing mushrooms here, a crystal embedded in a boulder there, sparkling like a trapped star.

By noon, they reached the foothills of the Silverpeaks, the path narrowing as it approached the Whispering Pass, a winding trail Thalion had described. But a thick fog blanketed the pass, its white tendrils curling like smoke, obscuring the rocky trail ahead. The air was heavy, damp, and eerily silent, the distant peaks invisible in the haze. Akira paused, his heart sinking as he realized they couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead.

“This isn’t good,” he said, adjusting his pack. “Thalion warned us about fog, but this is like walking into a cloud. How do we navigate through this?”

Elara studied the fog, her green eyes narrowing with focus. “We need help,” she said, her voice steady. “The mountain sprites might guide us. They live in these peaks, tending the stones and winds. I can try summoning them.”

Akira nodded, trusting her druidic expertise. “What do we need to do?”

Elara knelt, placing her hands on the rocky ground, her fingers tracing a faint rune that glowed green. She whispered an incantation, her voice soft but resonant, calling to the spirits of the Silverpeaks. The air shimmered, and a faint breeze stirred, carrying a chime-like hum. After a few moments, three small figures appeared—mountain sprites, no taller than a hand’s span, their forms made of swirling mist and flecks of stone, their eyes glowing like polished quartz. They hovered before Elara, their voices a chorus of whispers, like wind through a canyon.

Elara spoke to them in a melodic tone, explaining their need to cross the pass to reach Havenbrook. The sprites chattered, their voices rising and falling, and Elara listened intently, nodding. After a few minutes, she turned to Akira, her expression hopeful. “They’ll guide us through the fog to the cave Thalion mentioned,” she said. “But they want something in return—a gift to honor the mountains.”

Akira opened his pack, pulling out one of Hana’s jars of apple preserves, its golden contents gleaming through the glass. “How about this?” he said. “Mom’s preserves are a treasure. Will they accept it?”

Elara smiled, turning back to the sprites and presenting the jar, explaining its value. The sprites swirled closer, their misty forms inspecting the jar, their hum rising in excitement. After a brief exchange, Elara nodded. “They accept,” she said. “They love rare treats, and apples are scarce in the mountains. They’ll lead us to the cave.”

With the deal struck, the sprites darted ahead, their glowing eyes cutting through the fog like tiny beacons. Akira and Elara followed, their steps cautious on the rocky trail, the sprites’ hum guiding them through the haze. The pass was narrow, flanked by cliffs, and loose stones crunched underfoot, a reminder of Thalion’s rockslide warning. The fog muffled sounds, but the sprites’ light kept them on course, weaving past jagged boulders and twisted trees that loomed like shadows.

By evening, the fog thinned, and the sprites led them to a cave nestled in the pass, its entrance framed by moss and glowing lichen. The interior was dry, its walls smooth and etched with faint runes from ancient travelers. Akira and Elara set up their tent inside, its elven silk shimmering faintly, and built a small fire with enchanted flint. As promised, Elara handed the jar of preserves to the sprites, who gathered around it, their misty forms vibrating with delight. One sprite, its voice clearer, spoke to Elara, its words like a breeze. “If trouble finds you, call us,” it said. “We honor those who share respect with the mountains.” ( Note: Can't decide the gender of the Sprite. )

Elara bowed, her voice grateful. “Thank you. We’ll call if we need you.”

The sprites vanished into the cave’s shadows, their hum fading, leaving the jar behind as a token of their bond. Akira and Elara ate a simple dinner—flatbreads, moonberries, and roasted nuts—by the fire, the cave’s warmth a comfort after the foggy pass. They shared quiet stories, Elara recounting a childhood adventure where she and Liora got lost in a forest, only to be guided home by fireflies. Akira laughed, sharing a tale of sneaking into his Earth neighbor’s orchard to pick apples, earning a scolding but a pie in the end. The fire’s glow cast soft shadows, their bond deepening in the cozy cave.

The next morning, they awoke to find the fog gone, the Silverpeaks bathed in sunlight, their crags sharp against a clear blue sky. After a quick breakfast of moonberry tea and flatbreads, they packed their gear and continued, the path descending toward Havenbrook. By afternoon, the town came into view—a sprawling settlement nestled in a valley, its spires of stone and wood rising above a bustling market. Unlike Greenwood’s serene fields, Havenbrook was a vibrant hub, with cobblestone streets lined with hotels, taverns, and shops selling everything from enchanted jewelry to exotic spices. Dwarves in sturdy aprons hauled crates, elves in flowing robes bartered, and humans in practical cloaks haggled, their voices a lively cacophony.

Akira’s eyes widened, his heart racing with wonder. “This is nothing like Greenwood,” he said, taking in a tavern with a sign shaped like a roaring dragon, its windows glowing with firelight. “It’s so… alive.”

Elara smiled, her hand brushing his. “Havenbrook’s a crossroads,” she said. “Elves, dwarves, humans—all come here to trade. It’s chaotic, but you’ll love it.”

Exhausted from the journey, they decided to rest before seeking Durin. They approached a sturdy hotel, its wooden facade carved with mountain motifs, its sign reading “The Starlit Hearth.” Inside, the lobby was warm, with a stone hearth crackling and tables filled with travelers—dwarves laughing over ale, elves sipping herbal brews, and humans counting trade goods. At the counter, a human woman with graying hair and sharp eyes greeted them, her apron dusted with flour.

“We need a room for two,” Akira said, his voice polite but tired. “Is anything available?”

The woman, Supti, studied them, her gaze lingering on Elara’s elven features and Akira’s human ones. “Got one room left, fits two,” she said. “Good for you?”

Akira nodded, his hand finding Elara’s. “That’s perfect. We’re husband and wife.”

Supti’s brows shot up, and whispers rippled through the lobby, travelers glancing their way. “An elf and a human, married?” she said, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. “That’s rare as a winter apple.”

The hall buzzed, a few dwarves nudging each other, an elf tilting her head, and a human man with a weathered cloak watching intently, his eyes narrowing with interest. Akira felt the weight of Thalion’s warning about human curiosity, but he kept his focus. “We’ll take the room,” he said firmly. “How do we pay?”

Elara stepped forward, her voice confident. “We trade here,” she said, placing a basket of carrots and a jar of Hana’s apple preserves on the counter. “These carrots are fresh from Greenwood, and the preserves are my mother-in-law’s—apples, rare this season.”

Supti inspected the goods, her eyes widening at the jar’s golden contents, the apples perfectly preserved, their scent sweet and tart. She bit into a carrot, its crunch loud in the quieting hall. “These are exceptional,” she said, her tone impressed. “Apples this time of year? Near impossible. And these carrots—crisp, flawless. You can stay five days for this.”

The hall murmured, the human man leaning closer, his gaze sharp. Akira sensed the curiosity but focused on Supti. “Five days' work,” he said, glancing at Elara, who nodded.

Supti handed them a key, a small iron piece etched with a star. “Room’s upstairs, third door. Welcome to Havenbrook.”

They climbed the creaking stairs to a cozy room with a wooden bed, woven blankets, and a window overlooking the market, its stalls glowing with lanterns. Akira set their packs down, his mind buzzing with the day’s events. “That was… different,” he said, sitting on the bed. “No coins, just trading crops?”

Elara laughed, sitting beside him, her moonbloom glinting. “Arathia doesn’t have a universal coin,” she said. “Each region trades what’s valuable—crops, crafts, magic. Greenwood’s produce is prized, especially Hana’s preserves. You’ll get used to it.”

Akira shook his head, smiling. “There’s so much I don’t know about this world.”

Elara’s hand found his, her green eyes warm. “You’re learning, love,” she said softly. “We have time. Together, we’ll figure it all out.”

They gazed out the window, the market’s lights twinkling like stars, the sounds of laughter and bartering drifting up. The human’s curious stare lingered in Akira’s mind, but Elara’s presence grounded him. Tomorrow, they’d find Durin and secure the corner brackets, but tonight, in their quiet room, they were a team, ready to face Havenbrook’s wonders, their love a steady light in an unfamiliar place.