The ritual

The air changed first - warmer, heavier, and charged with a strange, intoxicating static.

My two guides slowed.

“You will want to be present for this,” one said casually, as if commenting on the weather.
“For what exactly?” I asked, trying to project a courtly composure I didn’t feel.

They simply stepped aside.

The forest opened into a circular amphitheater of moss-covered stone tiers. At the center lay a wide basin of still water, surrounded by dozens of druids. And they were unguarded in every sense - completely unclothed, their athletic, violet-skinned bodies entirely at ease. Back in Beornia, nobles hid behind heavy velvet and rigid rules. Here, the raw, unfiltered physical presence of the night elves filled the space. Dappled sunlight caught the broad, chiseled chests of the men creating an intensely charged atmosphere that made my own slim frame feel acutely loud.

My guides brought me to the edge of the stone basin.

“This is not a ritual you watch,” one murmured, his bare shoulder brushing mine with a deep, natural warmth.
“What is it, then?”
“It is one you participate in. You shall see.”

They gestured for me to enter. As I stepped forward, the druids turned as one. Several of them opened their arms in a collective invitation.

My naive upbringing told me to suspect a trap or a bizarre diplomatic test. Yet, looking at the breathtaking array of bare physiques waiting to welcome me, a familiar, treacherous warmth pooled in my gut. My body felt dangerously exposed under their gaze, but curiosity - and a sudden, breathless urge to surrender to their touch - pushed me forward into the circle.