Of Celedhrin and the Grace of Selene

The Grace of Selene

The moon hung heavy and full in the sky, casting a silver glow across the sprawling groves of Calanost. The celebrations of her ascension still murmured softly in the distance, the sound of elven voices carrying songs of Selene, their melodies laced with reverence and joy. Yet Celedhrin had slipped away, her bare feet whispering across the dew-soaked grass as she made her way into the forest.

The path she took was old—older than the Moonspire itself. It wound between towering silver birches and ancient oaks, their branches hung with pale strands of moonwoven silk that fluttered gently in the night breeze. She moved with the grace of memory, her hands brushing against the trunks of trees she had known since childhood. Their bark was smooth and warm, whispering faint echoes of her name as she passed.

Her new silvery-blue robes shimmered faintly, catching the light of the moon, the white embroidery seeming to glimmer as if alive. Yet as she moved deeper into the grove, she let the robe slip from her shoulders, pooling softly at her feet. With deliberate care, she folded it neatly and set it against the smooth roots of an ancient willow. Her long, sculpted legs gleamed under the moonlight, her body graceful and bare, unashamed beneath the eyes of the forest.

The path narrowed, winding between thickening trees and descending into a shallow ravine. Moss carpeted the stones underfoot, soft and cool, whispering with each step she took. Moonlight dappled the ground in patches, filtered through the thick canopy of leaves that shivered in the night wind. She ducked under low branches, her long hair catching the moonlight as she moved.

At the bottom of the ravine, the sound of water grew stronger—a gentle, melodic rush that filled the air with serenity. She smiled, her pace quickening as she pushed through a curtain of hanging vines, their leaves brushing her shoulders and arms like the hands of old friends.

Beyond the vines, the world opened up into a glade of breathtaking beauty. A hidden spring bubbled up from the earth, its waters crystal clear and shimmering with silvery light. It flowed gently into a small pool that glimmered like liquid glass, before cascading over smooth stones into a waterfall that sang as it fell, splashing into a deeper basin below. Moonlight glowed off its surface, illuminating the droplets like falling stars.

Celedhrin stepped forward, her bare feet sinking into the cool grass that ringed the edge of the spring. Here, away from the eyes of the world, she felt the weight of her new title lift from her shoulders. She was not Ovate Celedhrin nor Initiate of the First Circle—she was simply herself, the elf who had wandered these woods as a child, laughing under the moon’s watchful gaze.

She stepped lightly into the pool, the water lapping gently around her ankles, then her calves. It was cool and pure, and as she waded deeper, it rose to her thighs, then her waist. She closed her eyes, raising her arms above her head, palms open to the sky. Moonlight bathed her skin, glimmering off the droplets that clung to her shoulders and hair. She began to sway, slowly at first, her movements fluid and graceful, as though the water itself moved with her.

Her dance became more expressive, the ripples of the spring catching the rhythm of her motion. She stepped lightly from the water, her body glistening under the moon's light, and began to twirl upon the soft moss, her feet whispering against the earth. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, catching silver light in its strands as she moved, her arms weaving patterns of grace and beauty.

The waterfall’s song became her music, the rustling of the leaves her accompaniment. She moved with the confidence of one who had danced this way many times before, each step and turn practiced and perfected through years of devotion. This was her place—hidden, sacred, untouched by the burdens of the outside world.

Her dance slowed, and she knelt gracefully by the edge of the spring, her hands cupping the water and bringing it to her lips. It was cool and sweet, filled with the purity of the earth and the blessing of the moon. She bowed her head, whispering soft prayers to Selene and Finduilen, her voice soft and lilting:

"Lady of the Moon, light of the night,
Keeper of dreams and the gentle tide,
Watch over me as I walk this path,
Grant me grace, and keep me steadfast."

Her hands dipped back into the water, and she poured it over her head, feeling the chill trickle down her back and shoulders. Her breathing slowed, her eyes closing as she embraced the serenity of the place. She felt Selene’s presence here, soft and gentle, like a whisper of silver light upon her skin.

As she meditated, the wind stirred gently through the leaves, and she felt the familiar sensation of the trees whispering around her. The grove was alive, sentient in a way that only the Grey Elves of Gelmar truly understood. Her fingers brushed against the moss-covered stones, and she felt the pulse of life there, ancient and unyielding.

This was her sanctuary—a place untouched by the worries of court or the demands of ceremony. It was a place of peace, of solitude, and of divine connection. Here, she could be more than just an Initiate; she could be Celedhrin, daughter of the forest, child of moonlight.

Arrival of Selene

Her eyes were closed, her breath steady and serene, and for a time, there was nothing in the world but the feel of the earth beneath her feet and the whisper of the wind through her hair. She stepped lightly into the shallows of the spring, the water cool against her skin, rippling outwards with each gentle movement. Moonlight shimmered across the surface, reflecting back at her, swirling in silver and sapphire hues.

The moon above grew brighter—its light intensifying, spilling across the glade in waves of luminescence. The silvery glow washed over the leaves, the rocks, the water itself, until the entire grove shone like polished glass beneath the stars. Celedhrin stopped, her bare feet sunk gently into the cool silt of the spring, her breath catching in her chest as she looked up.

The moonlight coalesced, gathering into a singular column of light that pierced through the canopy of leaves above, illuminating the hidden spring in ethereal splendor. The light shimmered, spiraled, and then began to descend, soft and slow, like drifting feathers of silver light. It touched the surface of the spring, sending ripples outward in perfect, concentric rings, and within those rings, a figure began to take form.

Her descent was like a whisper of the night, an ethereal glide down the pillar of moonlight. Selene, the Empyreal Lord of the Moons, Nature, Dreams, and Fate, came forth from the light, her form gradually emerging with each ripple of silvery essence. Her body was breathtakingly tall—6'6" of perfect grace and celestial beauty. She was nude, bare to the world, her flawless skin kissed with the pale light of the moon, her long, silvery-blonde hair flowing down her back like liquid starlight. It cascaded around her form, swirling gently in the moonlight's glow, shimmering with each subtle movement.

Her eyes were like twin stars, silver-blue and filled with ancient wisdom, kindness, and a depth that seemed to reflect the very fabric of the night sky. Her expression was serene, almost knowing, as she descended from the light and came to stand upon the still surface of the spring itself. The water did not ripple beneath her feet; it remained glass-smooth, holding her weightless as if it too revered her presence.

Selene stepped forward, her movements as fluid as water, her bare feet gliding across the surface of the pool without disturbing its serenity. Her gaze fell upon Celedhrin, who stood frozen in awe, her breath held in disbelief and reverence. The air grew still, and the wind seemed to hush in reverence.

Celedhrin, whose beauty was whispered among the Grey Elves now stood before a manifestation of beauty and grace that eclipsed even her own. For Selene was not merely beautiful; she was the embodiment of moonlight and dreams, a living echo of starlight and serenity. 
 

The young Initiate sank to her knees instinctively, her long hair spilling over her shoulders as she bowed her head. Her voice, though soft, carried the weight of reverence.
"My Lady... my Goddess... I am unworthy."

Selene moved closer, her bare feet still skimming the surface of the water. Her smile was gentle, soft as the breath of night, and she extended a hand, her fingers delicate and long, reaching for Celedhrin's chin. Her touch was cool, soothing, and Celedhrin’s eyes were gently raised to meet the celestial gaze of the goddess.

"Child of the Moon... there is no unworthiness in you," Selene spoke, her voice like the soft whisper of leaves under a midnight breeze. "You dance beneath my light, and you have called me... perhaps without knowing. Your heart is pure, your spirit is strong. You honor me with your grace."

Celedhrin’s eyes shimmered with moisture as she stared up at Selene, awe and disbelief mingling with joy. "I did not call you... I merely danced to your light... as I always have."

Selene’s smile deepened, her hand brushing against Celedhrin’s cheek, leaving a trace of shimmering light that lingered even as her hand moved away.
"Yet still, I am here," she replied simply, her eyes filled with moonlight.

Selene stepped back upon the water, her body twirling in a slow, deliberate motion. Her hair swirled around her, catching the moonlight in shimmering trails, and the water beneath her began to ripple in perfect harmony. She moved with the elegance of a whisper, her hands flowing like streams of silver light. Her dance was a blessing, a weaving of fate and moonlight that resonated with the hidden magic of the spring.

"Dance with me, child," Selene called, her voice soft and lilting. "The moon is full, and I have come to share this moment with you."

Celedhrin rose slowly, her heart fluttering like the wings of a bird. Her body moved instinctively, her limbs finding the rhythm of the water, the sway of the breeze, the hum of the moonlight. Together they moved—goddess and mortal—dancing upon the surface of the hidden spring, their forms mirrored in the still waters below.

The moonlight grew brighter, spilling down from the heavens in shimmering rays that encircled the two of them. Celedhrin could feel the power of the moon in her veins, her movements becoming lighter, more fluid, as if the air itself carried her steps. The silver light flowed around them, weaving intricate patterns that glimmered and shimmered with each turn, each swirl of their bodies.

Selene laughed softly, her voice like the gentle sigh of midnight winds, and she reached out, taking Celedhrin’s hand in hers. A pulse of light surged through Celedhrin, a warm and comforting embrace that filled her with serenity and bliss. For a moment, there was no separation—no goddess, no mortal—only two souls moving as one under the gaze of the moon.

The moonlight cascaded in silver ribbons around them, swirling in perfect harmony with their steps as Selene and Celedhrin danced upon the glassy surface of the hidden spring. Celedhrin's movements were graceful, fluid, an echo of the goddess's own celestial rhythm. Her bare feet whispered across the water, the silver light illuminating the curves of her body, tracing the lines of her hips and shoulders with a soft, ethereal glow.

Selene moved with effortless grace, her feet never breaking the surface, her form barely touching the water as if the moonlight itself held her aloft. She reached out, her hands intertwining with Celedhrin's own, the goddess's eyes shimmering with a light that seemed to reflect all the stars of the night sky.

Their hands touched, and in that moment, Celedhrin felt a surge of warmth, a ripple of power that flowed from Selene's fingertips into her own. It spread through her body, gentle and tender, like the brush of moonlight upon still water. Celedhrin gasped, her breath catching as the sensation deepened, spreading through her veins, flooding her senses with light and warmth.

Selene’s eyes met hers, and her smile was soft and knowing. She stepped closer, still holding Celedhrin’s hands, and her voice came in a whisper, gentle as the falling of leaves.
"Child of the Moon, I have seen you... watched you dance beneath my light since you were but a child. You have been a whisper of beauty among your people, a flower not yet fully bloomed. But now... you shall be my blossom, the fairest of all who walk these lands. Let my light be your radiance... let my grace be your own."

As Selene spoke, her hands moved to Celedhrin’s cheeks, cupping her face with tender reverence. A soft light began to glow beneath Selene's palms, spilling outwards like tendrils of silver mist. Celedhrin’s breath shuddered, her eyes wide as she felt the magic seep into her skin, spreading warmth and light through every fiber of her being.

Her hair, already beautiful and flowing, took on a new luster, a silvered sheen that seemed to catch every glimmer of moonlight. It grew ever so slightly, the strands becoming softer, more lustrous, cascading down her back like rivers of starlight. Her eyes, vibrant and piercing, grew clearer, deeper, their depths shimmering with sapphire and aquamarine hues that seemed to mirror the light of the twin moons, Silmerana and Night Star.

Her skin, already flawless, took on a subtle glow, the pale light of the moon reflecting off her flesh with a gentle radiance. The slight imperfections that marked her humanity softened and vanished, replaced with the unblemished grace of the divine. Her lips, full and perfectly shaped, gained a softness that spoke of warmth and compassion.

Celedhrin felt her body lightening, her posture straightening, and her limbs becoming even more elegant—every movement more fluid, more ethereal. She became weightless, floating just an inch above the water alongside Selene, her body held aloft by the moon's grace.

Selene stepped back, her hands slipping away, and Celedhrin felt the loss like the slipping of silk from her fingers. She looked down at herself—her hands, her arms, her reflection in the water—stunned by the change. The spring’s surface showed her something unearthly, something more beautiful than she had ever dared imagine.

Selene spoke, her voice laced with divine certainty:
"From this day forth, you shall walk in my light, a reflection of my grace. You shall be the fairest of Gelmar, a beacon to your people, a symbol of my love and blessing. Your beauty will know no rival, and your grace shall be the whisper of the wind through the silver trees of Tol Galan."

Celedhrin’s hand moved to her cheek, her fingers brushing her own skin, and she felt warmth there—soft, smooth, and perfect. Her eyes brimmed with tears of disbelief and gratitude, her voice trembling as she spoke.
"My Lady... I am... I do not deserve this..."

Selene smiled gently, her eyes shimmering with celestial light.
"You deserve more than you know, child. Your heart is pure, your spirit unyielding. My blessing is upon you now and forever. You are my daughter of the moon, my flower of Gelmar. Shine brightly, Celedhrin."

With that, Selene leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Celedhrin’s brow. The touch was cool and soft, like the kiss of winter’s first snow, and it sent a pulse of light through Celedhrin’s body that shimmered outwards, illuminating the entire glade for just a heartbeat before fading back into moonlit serenity.

Selene began to rise, the moonlight swirling around her like ethereal threads, lifting her back towards the heavens. She smiled, her eyes lingering on Celedhrin for just a moment longer, before her form was taken back into the silver beam, ascending back towards the moons that hung heavy and bright in the sky.

The glade returned to its natural stillness, the waterfall whispering, the breeze sighing through the leaves, but now it seemed different—more vibrant, more alive. Celedhrin stood there, still and awestruck, her hands touching her face, her hair, her form—now more beautiful than she had ever dared dream.

Her reflection in the water shimmered back at her, unblemished and perfect. Her body seemed to glow faintly under the moonlight, her skin smooth as moonwoven silk, her eyes bright and clear. Her hair flowed in gentle waves, catching the light with every movement. There would be no question now—among all of Gelmar, among all Grey Elves, she would be the fairest of them all.