Chapter Three Xishlon Kiss

Chapter Three Xishlon Kiss

Olilly Emmylian and Kir Lyyo

Voloi, Noilaan

Xishlon night

Across one of Voloi’s many newly crafted sky bridges, Olilly and Kir Lyyo spot each other for the first time since they were so cruelly torn away from each other in the Sublands many months ago.

They close in from opposite directions, Olilly’s steps fleet as a deer’s as the distance between them narrows on this highest

bridge where Kirin’s runic-hawk missive said he’d be, the purple light from Xishlon fireworks flashing over the scene.

As the bridge gently sways, Olilly glances past its vine railings, the woven-vine pathways magicked into being by the Dryad

Fae refugees that Wynter Eirllyn and the Smaragdalfar forces liberated. The Tree Fae have guided the crafting of so many of

the city’s new structures, sharing their techniques for building in harmony with the Natural World, spherical gall dwellings

now hugging so many Ironwood trees’ upper reaches. This isolated, river-facing bridge is placed high up in IV’s branches,

above one of the larger gall dwellings and near the top of the Great Tree’s cloud-high canopy.

Allowing a breathtaking panoramic view of the Xishlon-moonlit Vo River.

Olilly’s heart trips into a faster rhythm as she takes in Kirin’s slender, black-cloaked figure. Her steps slow on the woven

purple vines as throngs of Xishlon revelers stream across the large vine bridges that crisscross the air below them, more

Xishlon throngs swirling through the gardens at IV’s base and over every one of the city’s forested tiers, music and drumbeats

joyful on the air.

Reaching her, Kirin stills before Olilly, and the festive purple world recedes into the background, nothing left but the two of them and the Xishlon moon overhead.

A smile tugs at Olilly’s lips as she’s overcome by a sense of the moon smiling down on them both, a memory lighting of how

she and Kirin lingered on the dock last Xishlon near the river’s edge for one brief, magic moment before the Shadow War descended.

Blushing, she remembers their first tentative and thoroughly exciting kiss. Remembers how they felt like thieves, stealing

all the purple gems in the world.

Before the world turned gray.

Kirin cocks his head, concern in his beautiful dark kohl-lined eyes as he seems to read Olilly’s brief flare of pain.

Her heart warms, the affection in his gaze pushing away all troubled thoughts. She looks down and notices a glowing purple

lily in his hand, just like he had last Xishlon night, her flush pleasurably heating.

Kirin glances at the luminous lily in his hand, clearly noticing her noticing it, before a look of ardent purpose overtakes

his angular features. He holds up his free hand, palm out, revealing the image of IV imprinted there, then tilts his head

to the side, revealing a new streak of purple in his dark, spiky hair. A lavender Eastern Realm Cottontail Rabbit kindred

pokes its head out of his cloak’s edge to peer up at her.

Olilly’s heart lifts so fast that all the breath whooshes from her lungs. She feels as if she’s floated straight off the ground

into the moonlit air as she lifts her own palm, revealing the same Dryad’khin image emblazoned there.

Kirin’s face breaks into the most dazzling smile Olilly has ever seen on any face ever .

This levity is a welcome change, smiles rare during the Shadowed times they’ve so recently been through, the two of them huddled

in the Sublands during the worst of it, listening as violent explosions then storms battered the city above. And watching,

with mounting horror, as the different groups around them threatened to tear each other apart, a faction of Subland Smaragdalfar

fighting with Fyon’s faction over who should be allowed shelter there while Noilaan above fought to keep the entire Eastern

Realm just for the Noi.

Olilly unwelcome both aboveground and below.

And then, Kirin was cruelly ripped away from her as his father returned him to Noilaan to attempt to force him to take up

the cause of Noilaan for the Noi.

But now, as more and more people join with the Forest, everything is changing. An excited tension snaps between them as Kirin holds the beautiful lily out and Olilly eagerly accepts it, both of them so thoroughly lit up purple by the moonlight, her kindred Urisk color.

“You’ve joined us,” Olilly notes, heart fluttering, the two of them transformed by more than the moonlight, Olilly now wearing

a Wyvernguard uniform, its fabric tinted purple by her burgeoning geomancy, a lavender amethyst stylus worn proudly at her

side and more of her kindred purple stones adorning her wrists and ankles and neck.

Kirin’s gaze flits intently over her uniform. “I heard you joined the Wyvernguard’s Geomancer Division.”

Olilly nods. “We’re training with Dryad Fae and older Urisk geomancers and Earth Mage Dryad’kin,” she enthuses, “to rebuild

Erthia’s cities and towns in a whole new way. In harmony with the Natural World.”

She details for him how her life has been filled with bright purpose these past few months, her division’s special project

the creation of more towering islands rising from the Vo River to serve as great, spiraling marvels of vertical agriculture

that will help meet the food needs of the East’s growing population.

The Wyvernguard now an Erthia force under Dryad Fae and Ung Li’s leadership, dedicated to the restoration of the Natural World.

“We’ve geo-crafted vertical landmasses throughout the city, as well,” she joyfully relays, gesturing toward a few she worked

on with other Urisk and the magically brilliant botanist Yulan. “We’ve carved hundreds of small homes into many of them, interspersed

with tree seedlings, crops, and other plant life.”

A delighted shiver courses through Olilly over what she and her fellow Dryad’khin have wrought so far, their magical efforts

slowly turning Voloi’s tiered city into a weather-stabilizing forest that coexists, side by side, with Voloi’s dense population

of mostly Dryad’khin.

Olilly’s love of food and cooking has lent itself seamlessly to her new passion for agriculture in harmony with the Forest.

It’s been a challenge, increasing food production for so many on so little Unshadowed land, while rewilding more and more

of the Shadowed East to help the Natural World restore itself... a challenge that’s demanded the effort of every Dryad’khin.

Luckily, there is an ever-growing number of Dryad’khin.

Like her.

And wonderful Kirin.

“And you?” she asks, curiosity fizzing through her. “What brought you to Voloi?”

A slight smile edges Kirin’s lips, even as his eyes take on a serious light. “I’ve just joined the Wyvernguard’s Agricultural

Division.”

Surprise rays through Olilly, sunlight strong. She knows Kirin is conveying so much more than those calmly spoken words, revealing

that he’s broken with his father completely .

Forging a new path forward at the Wyvernguard.

With her .

Kirin undoes the clasps of his cloak and lets its edges fall to the side.

Stunned, Olilly takes in his brand-new Wyvernguard uniform. Hers has morphed to purple due to her geomancy affinity for violet

stone. His is the traditional sapphire, and imprinted, as is hers, with the new Noi design of IV rendered in shining onyx

thread.

“How did you get your father to let you leave?” Olilly asks, dazed, having heard that Kirin and his father relocated north

of Voloi, where a community of Noi who refuse to join with the Forest still live, all of them set on ridding the Eastern Realm

of every non-Noi person.

Kirin’s jaw hardens as he glances toward the purple-shimmering Vo. He sets his dark gaze back on her, immovable decision in

his eyes. “I love my father. But the way he thinks... it’s a terrible path forward, fueled by hate. Erthia can’t survive

it, and it’s not what I want. It never was. My father’s way isn’t the future.” Kirin holds up his IV-marked palm. “ This is the future.”

He pauses, as if all his words are suddenly caught in his throat, but Olilly can read the unspoken in the intensity firing

in his eyes, her pulse tripping over itself.

“I’ve left home for good,” he announces, tone final. “I petitioned the Dryad’khin Conclave for entry into the Wyveryguard,

and... as you can see, my request was granted.”

Olilly pulls in a wavering breath, her heart flooded with a sense of revolution and new beginnings.

“I... I remember the last time we were here together,” she stammers, needing to look away for a moment, but also needing

to show him her heart. As she remembers the feel of Kirin’s lips on hers.

Before the upper half of the Vo Mountain Range exploded, mid-kiss.

His cheeks reddening, Kirin glances at the ground, the moon, the river, clearly as flustered as she is and swept up in the same heated remembrance. But then, he seems to gather himself, his gaze meeting then firming on hers. “We never got a chance to finish that kiss,” he ventures, a slight tremor to his voice as fireworks in the shape of hundreds of Xishlon moons detonate over the river to a chorus of delighted cheers.

Olilly is barely aware of the show, Kirin’s words hanging in the air between them, lit up by the fireworks’ rush of shimmering

light.

And by the Xishlon moon’s aura of infinite possibility.

Olilly glances at one of the vertical islands that she helped to craft, a plethora of vegetables already planted and flourishing

in the island’s rich, geo-magicked soil. Enough food to feed hundreds. Thousands.

Her geomancy’s mark on Noilaan just beginning.

She turns back to Kirin, emboldened. No longer the scared, timid thing she once was. She’s even wearing her scarred ears proudly.

Defiantly. No more pretend points.

Because she’s beautiful just the way she is.

And she’s still here. Defiantly still here .

Working for a better future.

She peers meaningfully up at the moon, hope for the future, solid as her amethyst stylus, crystallizing in her heart, her

lips trembling with emotion. “I feel like I’m truly part of Xishlon now,” she says, adamant. “I’ve found not just my magic,

but my place here in this purple-moon world.”

She dares a glance at Kirin to find him giving her a look of pure emotion.

“Xishlon is so much the better for it,” he insists, moving slightly closer, his rabbit kindred venturing forward to press

affectionately against her.

“Kir Lyyo,” Olilly says with giddy formality, her smile bright, her heart pattering, “would you be my Xishlon’vir... again?”

Kirin laughs, his own beaming smile turning as bright as the moon above. And then they both lean in, and Kirin brings his

lips to hers in a shy, second kiss for them both. Then less shy as they bring their arms lightly around each other.

Then fully embracing.

As love blooms in both their hearts, along with rock-solid hope for the future.