Luka’s Moon
In the biting chill of the Arctic night, a ceaseless wind whips snow flurries into swirling eddies, as if the very air itself is in turmoil. The darkness is almost complete, save for the resplendent beacon of the full moon that casts its watchful eye upon the frozen wasteland. Amidst this desolation, a castle appears on the horizon—crafted entirely of ice and snow, it gleams in the moonlight like a radiant jewel set against the unforgiving landscape.
Inside the castle, moonlight filters through the icy structure, illuminating even the darkest corners and revealing the magnificent architecture that sustains this crystalline palace. The scene inside the grand hall is breathtaking— its walls carved from glistening ice that captures the moonlight and scatters it into a thousand dazzling reflections. Chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling, their icy crystals casting a soft, cool light that bathes the room in an icy glow.
At the heart of this grand hall stands a magnificent throne, a work of art, adorned with delicate patterns of frost and rime. Towering ice sculptures of polar bears line the walls, standing as perfect guardians, their fierce yet majestic forms captured in perfect detail. They appear lifelike, as if poised to spring into action at their queen’s command.
Moving gracefully through the hall are small servants, each dressed in bronze armor that gleams like molten gold. Their armor is intricately adorned with delicate filigree, a testament to the artistry of this frosty kingdom. These diminutive attendants carry trays of delicacies and perform their tasks with an air of quiet efficiency
Seated upon the icy throne, the Snow Queen emanates a beauty that seems almost otherworldly, tinged with a hint of elven grace. Her eyes are pools of crystalline blue, mirrors to the icy realm she rules, filled with a wisdom that belies her youthful appearance. High cheekbones and slightly pointed ears suggest an ancient lineage, connecting her to the enigmatic forests of elven realms far away. Her skin is as luminous as the moonlight, contrasting strikingly against her flowing hair, which cascades like a silver waterfall around her shoulders. She wears a gown made of snowflakes intricately woven together, shimmering with every movement, as if the stars themselves have been sewn into the fabric. As she welcomes her long-traveled friend, her lips part in a smile that could warm even the coldest of winters.
Her friend, an eccentric yet captivating figure, stands in stark contrast to the Snow Queen’s icy elegance. Dressed in a resplendent rococo gown of white and gold embroidery, she looks as if she stepped out of a fairy tale. Her skin resembles fine white porcelain, flawless and delicate, which complements her slender elfin features. Her white hair flows like a silken river, styled in a way that harmonizes with her artfully applied makeup, accentuating her eyes and lips, and imbuing her expressive face with a vivid charm.
But what truly captivates the eye are her ears—elongated and furry, resembling those of a rabbit. Whether these are her actual ears or a whimsical tiara is anyone’s guess. In one hand, she holds a slender wand or baton, upon which perches a small fox, its eyes glinting curiously as if sharing in the mysteries of their enigmatic meeting. Together, they make an unforgettable pair, their contrasting styles only emphasizing the unique allure each brings into the room.
The porcelain woman in gold communicates through a language of gestures and expressions known only to a select few. Her communication is a dance of subtle movements, each filled with meaning. Her eyes, dark pools of mystery, convey her thoughts with expressive depth. They narrow slightly in contemplation, widen in moments of revelation, and twinkle with hidden amusement when a secret is shared. Her gentle hand movements guide the conversations like a conductor directing an orchestra. A delicate flick of her fingers might express agreement, while a graceful sweep could indicate a change of subject.
Despite her silence, her face is a canvas of emotion. A raised eyebrow might signify curiosity, a faint smile could convey approval, and the slightest furrow of her brow may hint at concern. It’s a silent ballet of communication—a language born of understanding and familiarity, known only to those who have delved into the depths of her mysterious world. To the casual observer, she is a figure of intrigue, but to the Snow Queen, she is a confidante who speaks volumes without uttering a word.
Down in the workshops below, Technician First Class, Opalmist Gemsetter of the Guild of Jewellers and Watchmakers, is putting the finishing touches on a clockwork doll, a magnificent work of artistry and mechanics, destined for the queen’s collection of clockwork mechanisms. Queen Njordis‘s realm, Polarix, is famous for its legendary clockworks, rivaled by none. Opalmist Gemsetter is one of the rising stars of the guild — her work surpassing her peers in its excellence. Today is destined to be different for Opal, who has just been summoned to the throne room by the queen herself.
Opal, clad in her custom-built bronze guild armor, glimmers in the moonlight that filters through the icy lenses embedded in the walls of the Crystal Palace. She cautiously steps into the throne room, her steps tinged with apprehension and uncertainty about the reason for her summons. The sight of the queen and her mysterious guest does little to alleviate her anxiety.
In her customary reserved manner, Njordis greets Opal. Yet, to Opal’s surprise, she receives no command or task. Instead, the queen introduces her to the porcelain-skinned figure standing before them.
Opal has only heard stories of Luka, the silent queen; the legendary 13th fey sister, who is not one of the Nordis’s 12 true sisters, but is treated as one just the same. Luka is unusual for so many reasons they are hard to number. These include, of course, her style of voiceless communication, her beautifully crafted baroque gowns, or her enigmatic crowns, which today resembles the ears of a lupine creature. But what struck Opal most was her beauty. As beautiful as is Njordis, and the few of her sisters that she has seen, Luka’s beauty, paired with her grace and charm were unparalleled.
Luka subtly lowered her posture to better align with Opal’s 3-foot stature and offered a hand gesture as a sign of greeting. Her eye movements conveyed warmth and welcome, devoid of the condescension that sometimes accompanies royal interactions.
The queen spoke, “I have invited you here because you are one of my best rising stars. Your dedication, skills, intelligence, and dependability are all traits of the highest value and quality.”
The queen gestured toward her enigmatic guest and said, “This is my sister, Luka. She has come to us with a request for an important task.” It was clear from Njordis’s tone and manner that this wasn’t so much a request for Opal’s assistance as it was a notification, an unspoken understanding that her skills would be called upon for this significant endeavor.
Unfamiliar with the nuances of royal interaction, Opal took a moment to collect herself. Opting for a gesture of humility and deference, she executed a respectful bow.
With a subtle nod, almost too slight to catch, Luka acknowledged Opal, the unspoken greeting radiating warmth, instilling a sense of comfort deep within her heart. Luka’s hands extended in a gentle, welcoming gesture. As Opal drew nearer, Luka’s head tilted ever so slightly, her gaze unwavering and focused. In that singular moment, everything about Luka communicated her happiness to meet Opal. She emanated a warm and inviting aura, leaving Opal both welcomed and deeply intrigued by the silent mysteries that seemed to form the essence of Luka herself.
What followed was a complex ballet of gestures from Luka, as she attempted to convey something elusive to Opal. Though the movements defied easy interpretation, Opal was no ordinary gnome; her intellect was renowned among her kind. With unyielding focus on Luka, her mind raced to decipher the silent language. Was Luka inviting her on a journey? Not just any journey—perhaps a mission to a distant land.
Luka pressed on, not pausing to ensure Opal grasped her silent lexicon. Her hands swept through the air like birds in flight, fingers articulating complex notions that transcended mere words. Opal’s mind churned, struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire choreography of Luka’s silent language.
At a certain moment, a palpable change overcame Luka; her gestures slowed, her hands trembling as if burdened by the weight of invisible sorrow. Opal sensed the communication turning towards the subject of the 12th sister—the one who was no longer among them. Luka’s eyes seemed to cloud over, a poignant mix of longing and loss swirling within them. Such raw emotion from a queen was unprecedented in Opal’s experience.
Regaining her composure, Luka extended a hand with newfound resolve, gesturing for Opal to follow. From her throne, Njordis gave a solemn nod, her face a study in royal approval. Luka curtsied deeply to the queen, her sister, and then led Opal down an icy corridor toward the very center of the castle.
Luka glided effortlessly through the labyrinthine halls of the Crystal Palace, her every step echoing an uncanny familiarity with its secrets. Eventually, they arrived at the Moon Court, named for its expansive lunar-shaped platform. This enchanting enclave stood in stark contrast to its icy exterior, hosting a vibrant butterfly habitat amidst flourishing gardens. The floral array was breathtaking; its colors transcended mere earthly spectrums, revealing hues of such vibrancy and saturation they seemed to belong to another realm altogether.
However, what captured Opal’s attention was the ethereal quality of the moonlight that evening. As the full moon hung high, its luminous beams converged on the lunar platform, as if guided by an invisible hand. Luka gestured subtly for Opal to ascend, and, ever the obedient servant, Opal complied. She stepped onto the lunar platform, blissfully unaware of the weight of Luka’s unspoken expectations.
Then, a sudden shift occurred in Luka’s expression; it was as if a critical memory had just resurfaced. She raised a single finger, silently urging Opal to pause, as if poised to divulge something momentous. But a sensation of internal upheaval seized Opal, as though her very core had been gripped by an invisible force. It dawned on her that she was experiencing the overwhelming gravitational pull of the colossal Polaris moon overhead. The pressure intensified, blurring her vision and scattering her focus.
She sensed Luka was trying to convey something crucial, yet she could no longer perceive her with clarity. The pressure escalated to the point where Opal felt as though she were levitating, disconnected from the ground. Her field of vision was subsumed by the dazzling luminescence of the moon, which now dominated the sky and her entire sensory experience. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the pressure relented. A sensation of weightlessness enveloped her before the world plunged into darkness, bringing Opal’s conscious experience to an end.