Auriel soared through the sun-touched clouds, the heavens burning gold around her. Light split and danced across her armour, scattering into a thousand shards that followed her like comet trails. The air shimmered with warmth and reverence; every droplet of mist turned to liquid amber in her wake.
Below, storm billows rolled and folded like titanic waves, their edges smouldering with divine fire. Each breath she drew was sunlight — sweet, searing, alive.
For a moment, it was as if she flew through the veins of creation itself, where the world still remembered its first dawn.
The clouds parted as if in reverence, their dark bellies turning gold under the sweep of dawn. Sunlight poured through in colossal pillars, each beam striking the land like a blessing. Below, the Mesa Crown ignited—a vast plateau of radiant stone where no shadow dared linger.
The city that crowned it, Heliandor, shone like the heart of the sun made solid. Towers of auric crystal rose in arcs and spirals, every surface alive with reflected brilliance.
Around it, the clouds hesitated at its borders, roiling and folding but never crossing. Even storms bowed there—unwilling to mar the sanctum of the dawn. From above, it was as if the heavens themselves refused to touch what the light had claimed.
Heliandor did not merely stand beneath the sun; it was its reflection, a city built to remind the world that light could take form.
The entire city rose in concentric tiers atop the vast plateau, each level walled and fortified. From a distance, it resembled a blazing crown resting upon stone—a masterpiece of symmetry carved by gods and maintained by light.
As Auriel flew over, Heliandor unfolded beneath her like a living mandala of radiance and order. Each tier formed a perfect ring, linked by ascending causeways of gold-veined stone. Rivers of luminescent water flowed between them like veins of the world itself, spilling into vast reservoirs that pulsed with steady brilliance.
But Auriel was not descending toward the city itself, but its heart. Dominating the uppermost ring stood the Crownspire Citadel, its foundation anchored deep in the plateau's luminous core while its tip vanished into the clouds above.
The grand spire was veiled in curtains of water and drifting stardust. Aqueducts threaded through suspended gardens into courts of glowing mist. Cascades fell from terraces high above, scattering into radiant vapour that caught the sunlight like liquid crystal.
The falls were fed by the Prism Canyons—their waters heavy with micro-crystals that shimmered by day and, at night, scattered the heavens across the surface like galaxies reborn.
Those same flows powered the citadel's hidden mechanisms: water-lifts that moved as smoothly as thought, mist bridges that formed on command, and a secret moonwell concealed behind the main cataract, its surface still as sleep.
Auriel hovered above and then fell, more graceful this time.
Metal met stone as she landed with her usual striking pose.
Where she landed was not full of stone, nor was it full of soldiers. But a sanctuary of beauty.
The King's Garden.
One of Lumeris's Wonders.
The gardens stretched like a hidden sanctuary within the Citadel walls, facing south where the land blazed beneath the Dawn's light. From here, the world unfurled in gold—a view said to be the very image of Eosander's reign.
Marble colonnades framed the terraces, their pillars veiled in slow-climbing vines that shimmered with dew. Pools of luminous Essence mirrored the sky, rippling where the breeze passed. Among them bloomed star-fed lilies, dawnroses, and veil-orchids that glowed faintly even in shadow.
Groundskeepers walked barefoot along the paths, their gestures coaxing threads of Luminary through the soil. The light ran beneath the roots, and each petal drank from it like morning dew.
As she walked through the Gardens, Knights bowed to her in silence.
Garden Sentinels. Ceremonial and deadly.
Their golden armour chased with floral and astral motifs. Cloaks embroidered like petals with dew-bright gems.
A presence of silence, as if they were statues that chose to walk.
She continued her stroll, coming close to the overarching entrance to the Citadel, a man rested upon its pillar.
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Auriel stepped toward the older man.
He had short white hair that faded into a coarse stubble, and silver-grey eyes – aged, yet still bright with the Dawn's light.
"So, how goes the hunt for the Drake-Titan?" he asked.
Auriel shifted on the spot; a flicker of awkwardness softened her poise.
"I may or may not have been… distracted."
He sighed. "What was it this time?"
"...The northern frontier. The Gorgur offensive, a dear friend I knew was there. I couldn't just look away. What would you have me do, Uncle."
"Auriel," he said softly, "that is war. Soldiers fall and die in battle. That is the oath they swore—duty carried even into death."
"I cannot just stand—float there and watch people die, knowing I have the power to stop it." She said, walking past him.
He caught up quickly, matching her stride as they entered the Citadel.
"Sweetpie—"
"Uncle!" She snapped, eyes flashing.
"Sorry… Auriel" He coughed, clearing his throat.
He sighed, "You cannot think that way if you mean to rule one day. Ruling is not as grand as people imagine. A true sovereign does not see the glory, no, they only see the curse that comes with it."
His tone softened. "Before your Father became King, I ruled as Regent of Dawn. When your grandfather passed, Luminae bless his soul, your Father was still Supreme Commander, unable to leave the front. So, through time, I came to learn the truth of that burden—weight of countless lives that rely on your very strength, and yours alone."
Auriel slowed, her earlier irritation fading into deep thought.
Their footsteps echoed over sunstone tiles, passing Knights of the Citadel – motionless silhouettes in mirrored armour, eyes dimly glowing beneath crested helms.
The corridor opened up into a vast hall. High arches rose above, etched with sun runes and mural reliefs of past monarchs and kings, kneeling before the Dawnfire. Each arch bore engraved scripture, and beneath them stood the rulers of old—rows of kings and queens rendered in gold and glass.
Their eyes caught the light like a living flame, yet none of them smiled.
Auriel broke the silence. "But my Father… he's not—"
"Your Father, he has already accepted that curse," her Uncle said. "He carries the weight and burden of his people as though it were his own. He wears the crown not for pride, but the duty to uphold the hopes of all who live in the Dawn's light."
He looked ahead. "It is hard, Auriel. But when you walk the same path as your Father—when your Vitalis burns as strong as the sun, and you stand as Zenith. Then you will come to know that burden too."
Their auras carried the light further, denser, brighter—until the hall became a pool of gold, its glow rippling across the ceiling.
She frowned. "Even so, Uncle… I would rather throw away the title of Queen than watch my people fall to a fate that I could prevent. If I do not try Uncle, then I have already failed them."
Her Uncle just stared at her for a few moments, until his mouth cracked into a grin.
Then, a burst of laughter.
"That's my Auriel! Still fire in your blood, just like when you were young. Good—good! Another trait a ruler should never lose. Don't let anyone tell you what you can and can't do."
"Don't worry Uncle," she said with a smile. "I plan not to".
His grin faded, into something quieter.
"But Auriel, remember—fate can be cruel, and unavoidable. Fate turns for no one, mortal or god."
She blinked, puzzled by the strange tone in his voice. The phrase lingered in her mind, quiet as an omen falling through the stars.
His footsteps stopped, prompting her to look back.
"Speaking of fate…" he said with a faint cough, "this is a good time to stop. You're nearly there – he'll be waiting for you, as always."
"You're not coming, Uncle?"
"Ahh—no, no. I have… important things to attend to. Good luck, Sweetpie!"
But before she could protest, he vanished into stardust. A trick he never bothered to teach her. Not that she needed it.
He always seems to dodge father.
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