Caelmont was a city that could humble even the proudest heart. Perched atop a jagged plateau carved by the hands of gods themselves, its walls rose in sweeping arcs of silvered stone and black granite.
Each tier of the city spilled downward in terraced rings, their rooftops crowned with banners that whipped in the wind. From a distance, Caelmont seemed part fortress, part jewel, carved from the spine of the mountains and set between heaven and earth.
At its heart towered the Aether Throne .... a citadel wrought from living crystal and pale moonstone. Its spires pierced the clouds, veiled in a constant shimmer, as though the sky itself poured its light into the stone. Legends claimed it had been born from the First Tempest, when the heavens split and the raw breath of the elements was bound into form.
Whoever sat upon the Aether Throne was said to feel the rhythm of the seas, the whisper of the wind, the heat of the earth's core, and the cold of the deepest frost.
Today, the Throne was a beacon, calling to every soul in the realm. The Solstice had come.
The streets were already alive when the sun's first rays swept across the plateau. Merchants draped their stalls in silks dyed in every hue imaginable .....storm-blue, ember-gold, blood-crimson. Perfume from crushed blossoms drifted through the air, mingling with the rich spice of roasting meats.
Musicians played in every corner, their pipes and drums beating out rhythms that echoed off the stone. Children darted between legs, their laughter ringing like chimes. Laughter and anticipation danced together in the voices of thousands.
From the southern gate came the first arrival ... Lord Azarion Flameborne, Lord of Ashmere and Warden of Emberhold, wielder of fire. He rode a coal-black destrier clad in armor glowing faintly with emberlight, each step leaving behind the scent of smoke.
His retinue carried banners of deep crimson and gold, the sigil of a phoenix wreathed in flame. Behind him marched his guard, their armor forged to gleam like molten metal, the heat of their presence felt even in the summer air.
From the east, the banners of Lord Valerian Stormborne unfurled .... Lord of Virelia, Warden of Valkoron, and wielder of thunder and lightning. He rode beneath a sky that darkened in his wake, the distant crackle of lightning threading the clouds overhead.
His cloak snapped like a sail in a gale, the silver embroidery shaped into curling bolts of lightning. His company was silent save for the rhythmic beat of hooves and the deep hum of gathering storm.
From the high skies and the northern road swept Lord Sylas Skyborne, Lord of Galesreach, master of the wind. His arrival was heralded by a sudden rush of air, scattering petals from the street stalls.
His white-plumed steed galloped as though the ground itself could not restrain it. His retinue rode light and fast, their armor etched with the spiral sigil of the gale, their banners streaming far behind, carried by the very winds he commanded.
Then came the chill — a creeping cold that prickled along the skin. Lord Neris Winterbourne had arrived, Lord of Frostmere and Warden of Aiseryn, wielder of water and ice.
His sleigh of silvered wood and frostglass was drawn by great white elk crowned in icicle antlers. The cobblestones beneath them steamed faintly, frost blooming wherever the sleigh's runners passed.
His guards wore mail that glinted like frozen rivers, their breath misting the air though the day was warm.
Last to arrive was a force that made the ground itself seem to listen ..... Lord Malric Stoneborne, Lord of Terravorn and master of earth. His destrier was a massive warhorse the color of granite, hooves striking sparks from the stone.
His armor was heavy, layered with plates etched in the shapes of mountains and roots. Each step of his procession seemed to resonate deep within the bones of the city, the rhythm steady and unyielding.
As the Five Lords reached the city's heart, the gates of the Aether Throne swung wide. Sunlight broke across the plateau, striking the crystal spires so that light refracted in cascading rainbows across the crowd.
The air thrummed with elemental power, each presence distinct, yet bound together beneath the looming shadow of the Throne.
The people cheered until their voices became a living tide. For the Solstice was not merely a festival .... it was a convergence of power, a moment when the five pillars of the realm stood together. Alliances would be forged here, rivalries kindled, and the fate of kingdoms decided in whispers behind the splendor.
And high above them all, the Throne waited.
The anticipation in the air was palpable, a living force that seemed to ripple through the gathered crowd. As the Five Lords dismounted and approached the Aether Throne, their footsteps echoed across the plaza, each stride purposeful and imbued with the weight of their respective realms.
The Lords exchanged nods, acknowledging the gravity of the occasion and the delicate balance of power they each represented.
The Solstice in Caelmont was more than just a celebration; it was a sacred ritual, a time when the elemental forces of the world converged in harmony. The city itself seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the significance of the moment.
The citizens, too, were keenly aware that this gathering was a rare opportunity to witness the unity of the elements, a spectacle that would be recounted for generations to come.
As the Lords ascended the steps to the Throne, a hush fell over the crowd. Each Lord carried with them the hopes and ambitions of their people, and as they reached the summit, they turned to face the multitude below.
The sun, now at its zenith, cast a brilliant light upon the scene, illuminating the Lords in a halo of radiance.
In unison, they raised their hands, and a surge of elemental energy coursed through the air. Flames danced alongside tendrils of lightning, gusts of wind swirled with icy mist, and the ground beneath them seemed to pulse with life.
It was a display of power and unity, a testament to the strength that could be achieved when the elements worked in concert.
The crowd erupted into applause, a thunderous roar that echoed through the city and beyond. This was the moment they had been waiting for, a reminder of the harmony that could exist between the realms.
As the applause subsided, the Lords turned once more to the Throne, ready to begin the negotiations and discussions that would shape the future of their world.
The Solstice was a time of renewal, a chance to reaffirm old alliances and forge new ones.
As the Lords entered the citadel, the doors closing behind them, the people of Caelmont knew that whatever decisions were made within those walls would ripple outwards, affecting the lives of all who called the realm home. The Solstice had begun, and with it, the promise of a brighter future