Within the quiet firelit caverns of Vellunor, the dark elleth sat. Slowly, she widdled a small flute from a piece of wood with the soft muttering of the candlelight for company. It was a small thing, not unlike the one her mother used to play. Citrine eyes glinted gold in the candlelight as she carefully inspected her work. Selah had been a child then. Her family had been happy, for a time, before the orcs came. Now, it was just her with her parents and ancestors to guide her in spirit. A howling wind suddenly blew through the cavern, tugging fiercely at her strands of silver, roaring in her ears. The soft muttering flames being no match for the rush of air. The flames silenced, doused the hall in shadow. Cursing softly, she abandoned her project as she searched for her flint. For a time, she scrambled in the dark, feeling along the ground for where she must have left it. Her eyes, slowly adjusted to the darkness only for more of those whispering winds to tickle her senses. Calmer now, those winds gently tugged at her hair and clothing until she finally looked up. Confused if this must be a sign from her ancestors or not, she soon found a soft light winking at her in the darkness, drawing her gaze higher and higher. Thousands of lights peered and winked at her as the stone hall she had always known doused in candlelight transformed before her eyes into a galaxy of twinkling stars deeper into the labyrinth of the underground city. Amazed, she stared gobsmacked until those whispers drew her onwards in a language she didn’t quite understand, and yet she felt deep within her soul that she should. Selah followed their beckoning as she watched these stars grow in intensity and number until they led her upwards. Nimble fingers scrambled for purchase on the smooth, weathered stone as she climbed higher and higher to the stars she sought. The breeze sang its encouragement until she finally reached the alcove at the very top. Breathless, Selah was blinded by the light of the full moon as the wind rushed at her back, almost as though someone had clapped her a hundred times in congratulations. The young elven maiden stared wide-eyed up at the moon, confused, yet not with the sense of rightness that filled and uplifted her soul. Her hair glowed like a white halo around her head as the wind tossed it into sight of the moonbeam. Slowly, she sat, leaning against the rocky entrance to take in the surrealness of this blessed night.. Listening to the wind and its strange whispers and how it somehow translated into an intense wanderlust deep within her soul... And the slow creeping fear it brought with it.
