The party blazed into the night. The people of Redale were determined to celebrate the summer solstice with all the vigour they could muster, and the air was heavy with the smell of honeyed wine, smoke from the bonfires, and the sound of laughter and revelry.

Noda stumbled into an alleyway, waving to the group behind him. The young man was not generally one for partying, but the solstice was different. The city had celebrated the day for thousands of years, celebrating the legend of the Awakening, and who was he to turn down a day of rest and relaxation. If rest was what you called spending eight hours on your feet dancing away the last rays of the sun.

Noda was a blacksmith for the town, specialising in repairing magical armour and weaponry. Of course, he couldn’t create new enchantments, as endowing objects with the energy known as drive was an ability long since lost to time. Alchemists could brew potions which offered similar effects, and some of the more ancient species could still do it, but they weren’t sharing their methods. As a result, whenever a magical artefact became damaged, it was up to a blacksmith to carefully repair it, ensuring the drive spread itself across the patched-up material.

Tonight, however, the brown-haired blacksmith had no work in mind whatsoever, and having spent the evening dancing and flirting with the young ladies who worked in the tavern south of his home, he was looking forward to nothing more than collapsing in his bed and, hopefully, sleeping through the wine induced headache that was doubtless to follow.

It had been a good night. He wiped his mouth with his arm, grinning as he turned the corner that lead onto his street, almost colliding with a figure coming the other way.

                “Excuse me, sir. Could you point me in the direction of the bonfires?” spoke the figure, slim and petite, dressed in lightweight fabrics and bangles, like a dancer of old. It was traditional for women dancing during the solstice festival to dress as such, but that had died out in the last thirty or so years. Still, you occasionally saw young women eager to try out the ensemble. Noda hiccoughed.

                “Sure, miss. It’s around this corner, then straight. Can’t miss the fires!”

The moonlight caught the girl’s eyes briefly, appearing almost violet in the pale light. An elf? thought Noda, glancing into her hair to check her ears. Sure enough, slight points were visible through the messy black hair. Even through the haze of wine, he knew this was incredible. Elves hadn’t been seen for centuries around Redale. He reached out clumsily to brush the girl’s hair aside, but her arm rose smoothly to push his away.

                “Something in my hair?” she enquired, playfully. There was no hint of anything but mirth in her voice, as if this was an everyday occurrence for her.

                “You’re an elf…” Noda croaked, practically speechless.

                “Is that so strange?” the girl tilted her head to one side, like a dog when it can’t understand its master. “Are elves not a civilized species?”

Noda was mesmerised. “We don't see elves often round here, no…” He reached his hand out again, although he didn't fully understand why. The girl obligingly tilted her head to give him access, and he gently tweaked the tip of the pointed ear. “They're real!”

The girl laughed, bright, clear and free of anything but happiness. “Actually, they're not!” Her form wavered for a moment, and Noda caught a glimpse of something, lithe and alluring, before the girl was back, her facial features a little more rounded, her eyes lower on her face, and her ears distinctly less pointed. “How’s this? Humans are normal, correct?”.

The blacksmith was slack-jawed, looking her up and down dumbly, as she mimicked his earlier movements and reached out with an arm, grasping his chin to make eye contact with the dumbfounded man. He stared into her eyes, purple, swirling and bottomless...

        The body didn’t even hit the floor before it disintegrated into dust. The girl adjusted her bangles and flicked her hair from her shoulders with a grin. There were bonfires to dance around, and merriment to be had.

The party blazed into the night.