Page 9 of Rings and Wings and Stardust Things

The dimly lit opera house was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Sweeping curves and spirals seemed to defy gravity, with towering columns supporting a domed ceiling that shimmered like the night sky. Ryon guided me through the maze of corridors until we reached a private viewing box.

As we settled into the plush seats, I couldn't help but gape at the immense stage before us. It was easily the size of a football field, with a backdrop that appeared to be a living mural—ever-shifting colors and shapes that danced across the surface in an almost hypnotic display.

Helko and Sharlar took their seats beside us, the tension between them palpable. I leaned closer to Ryon and whispered, “What exactly are we about to see?”

A playful glint flickered in his eyes. “The Draen are renowned for their operas, but this one is a bit...unique. Just wait.”

The lights dimmed further, and a hush fell over the audience. Suddenly, the mural backdrop came alive, projecting vibrant images that seemed to leap off the stage. A solitary figure emerged, clad in robes that shimmered like molten gold.

As the figure began to sing, the very air around us thrummed with energy. The voice was haunting, resonating deep within my chest, and I found myself entranced by the sheer power of it. Words were unnecessary; the emotions conveyed through the ethereal melody transcended language itself.

Dancers materialized from the shifting mural, their movements fluid and hypnotic, as if they were mere extensions of the music itself. Brilliant hues washed over the stage, changing with each swell of the orchestra, and I swore I could smell the fragrance of exotic blooms carried on an unseen breeze.

And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the music faded, and the stage fell silent. The audience remained motionless, as if emerging from a trance, until a thunderous ovation erupted from every corner of the opera house.

Helko, always the picture of calm, seemed unfazed. But the slight parting of his beak gave away that he was just as impressed.

“Shall we step out for some air?” Sharlar's voice broke through my reverie. I glanced at her, taking in the regal tilt of her head and the way her feathers seemed to shimmer like spun gold in the dim lighting.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” I replied, rising from my seat. A chance to speak with the bride-to-be alone couldn’t be missed.

Ryon caught my eye and inclined his head slightly. I could have sworn I detected a flicker of...something in his gaze, but it was gone before I could decipher it. Shaking off the peculiar flutter in my chest, I followed Sharlar out into the corridor.

We wandered in silence for a few moments until we came upon a small sitting room, its curved walls adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to depict scenes from Draen mythology. Sharlar settled onto one of the plush benches, her wings folding neatly behind her.

A brief silence stretched between us before Sharlar spoke. “Savannah, what makes for a good marriage?”

The question caught me off guard, and I found myself searching for an answer that wouldn't come across as trite or clichéd. “Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. I've seen couples with all the passion and fire in the world, only to have it fizzle out before the flowers from their wedding have wilted. It's not about money or status, that's for certain.”

I paused, considering my own experiences, both personal and professional. “I think...it comes down to trust. The ability to be vulnerable with someone, to share your deepest hopes and fears without fear of judgment or rejection. That's what true intimacy is built upon.”

Sharlar ruffled her wings, the feathers rustling softly. “Trust,” she echoed, her voice tinged with something akin to resignation. “That will be difficult.”

Curiosity piqued, I ventured cautiously, “Why is that? If you don't mind me asking, what is the history between your family and the Zorax clan?”

Sharlar's beak opened slightly, and she drew in a slow breath before answering. “Once, our families were close friends. Alget, Varie, my mother Bhelenia, and my father Tobor...they were inseparable. But when I was just an infant, there was a shuttle accident. My father was killed.” Her voice grew quieter. “My mother has always blamed Alget for what happened.”

A pang of sadness welled within me as the pieces fell into place. “Your parents must have loved each other very much,” I said gently.

Sharlar blinked, her head pulling back in what I could only interpret as surprise. For a long moment, she was silent, and I wondered if I had overstepped.

Finally, she spoke, her tone contemplative. “My mother has been so consumed by anger for so long...it's difficult to imagine her ever being capable of love. But perhaps you're right. Perhaps they did love each other, once.”

Our quiet moment was interrupted when Ryon and Helko found us in the sitting room. Sharlar rose gracefully to her feet, her feathers ruffling slightly. “You didn't need to leave the opera on our account.”

Helko's gaze met hers, his eyes holding an unreadable expression. “There didn't seem much point if you weren't there,” he said quietly, then seemed to realize what he'd implied. A flush of color darkened the feathers along his neck as he averted his eyes, head lowering in what I could only interpret as embarrassment.

An awkward silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken tensions. Ryon cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could all use a change of scenery? I hear the night market is in full swing. It might be... illuminating to experience it together.”

The suggestion seemed to relieve the heaviness in the room. Sharlar inclined her head. “An excellent idea.”

We made our way through the winding streets, the sounds and smells of the city growing richer with each step. Soon, we were enveloped in the vibrant energy of the night market.

Bioluminescent lanterns cast a warm glow over the bustling stalls, their soft light seeming to emanate from within rather than shining upon the scene. Strands of illuminated ribbons crisscrossed overhead, swaying gently in the evening breeze and creating ever-shifting patterns of light and shadow.

Vendors called out their wares in melodic tones, their voices blending with the lively music that drifted through the air. Performers filled every open space, from acrobats contorting their bodies in gravity-defying displays to musicians coaxing haunting melodies from strange, alien instruments.

The aromas were intoxicating – the rich, earthy scent of exotic spices mingled with the sweet fragrance of unfamiliar fruits and the tantalizing aroma of sizzling street food. My mouth watered as we passed a stall where delicate pastries glistened under a sugary glaze.

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