Clang!
The tolling of a bell shattered the prolonged silence of the night. And as if receiving a signal, thunder began to rumble violently – shaking the floor and the stone pillars surrounding the altar.
The carvings on the stone floor began to glow with a dancing, intoxicating blue light that even attracted a few insects.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
A figure with a sturdy build, wearing a black robe with blue stripes, walked with very measured steps towards the center of the altar. In his hand, he held a lantern emitting a blue light, surrounded by orbs of the same blue light – spinning gracefully like butterflies finding a flower.
Between the pillars stood figures in the same robes, standing still, observing.
"Messiah! Savior of the world from destruction!" The deep, confident voice came from the man now standing tall in the center of the altar. Majestically, he raised his blue lantern high, pointing it towards the sky.
He cleared his throat, then stared sharply at the sky while chanting a prayer.
"Nothing manifests without sacrifice."
"Life is never born from emptiness; it is always bought at an equivalent price."
"For from death, the most sublime life will begin."
"Only with the setting sun can the dawn of the savior rise – dispelling the destruction that threatens this world."
The man spread out his arms. "Guide us!"
The thunder grew more intense. The clouds in the sky began to swirl, forming a giant vortex centered directly above them. From the center of the vortex, a blue light shot out, illuminating the altar along with a figure that emerged from the center of the whirlpool.
Clang!
***
"Mother, may I touch it?"
The small voice came from a four-year-old prince named Lumian. His silver eyes sparkled, reflecting the twilight light shining on the soft edge of the bed where the queen sat, her stomach now enlarged with pregnancy.
"Of course, darling," answered Queen Silvana. Her silver hair cascaded beautifully over her velvet cloak adorned with several colorful beads. Her crystal-clear green eyes were glistening, adorned with a smile that Lumian believed could warm anyone's heart!
Lumian nodded slowly. He took a deep breath before carefully bringing his hand very cautiously to his mother's stomach – as if the unborn sibling inside was something very, very fragile.
"..."
His small palm finally touched his mother's stomach. It felt very warm… He also felt a faint pulse or gentle movement from within his mother's stomach. Was that her? My sister?
"Mother, I can feel it! She... she moved!" Lumian exclaimed in amazement. He couldn't hide his happiness at that moment, even his mother laughed at his antics. Until now, he was the youngest child – the age gap between him and his older siblings in the palace was very large; they were already adults, and because of that, he felt very lonely as there was no one he could play childish games with like others his age. But this time, right in front of him, in his mother's womb, he would soon have a little sister he could play with to fill his loneliness in this vast palace of the Aethelgard kingdom!
With sparkling eyes, he looked at his mother. His hand didn't move from her stomach, afraid that a sudden movement might startle his unborn sister. Innocently, he asked, "What will her name be?" his voice cheerful.
Her Majesty, Silvana, touched her chin. Her eyes darted around, her head nodding slightly, imitating someone thinking seriously. But her mannerisms seemed more like an intentional act because, honestly, she surely already knew what name she would give.
Lumian stood still in his place, his eyes fixed on his mother, who was thinking seriously. He deliberately gave her space so she could truly find a good name for his future sister!
"Eum..." finally, his mother broke the silence.
Had she found the name?!
"Her name is—" His mother stopped, chuckling, seemingly because of his frozen expression. She was making him even more curious!
"Her name is… Evangeline."
Hearing that answer, Lumian was instantly startled, his eyes widening further, his mouth slightly agape. "Evangeline...?" he murmured softly, almost like a breath.
The queen smiled and stroked Lumian's black hair. "What do you think?" she asked.
"Evangeline! That… That's a very beautiful name!" Lumian couldn't help but exclaim.
"Of course," Silvana replied with a gentle smile, her hand then stroking her enlarged stomach. "I gave her the name 'Evangeline' because it comes from Greek – our ancestral language – which means 'Bearer of Good News'. And that name…" Her voice grew lower and softer. "And that name suits her perfectly, because her presence is the most beautiful, and the best news for us."
Hearing his mother's explanation, which turned out to give such a meaningful name to his sister, an unbearable curiosity swelled in his heart. "Then, what does my name mean?" he asked innocently.
"Are you sure you want to know?" his mother replied, her eyes shining softly.
"Yes!" Lumian answered enthusiastically.
Silvana nodded. "I didn't give you a random name either, Lumi. Your name 'Lumian' comes from the Latin word, 'Lumen', which means light or illuminator." His mother caressed Lumian's hair with full affection, then moved to wipe his cheek. "I want you to become the light and illuminator for this kingdom."
Lumian fell silent. His wide silver eyes looked at his mother with awe and pride! Not just because his name was beautiful, but also because his mother had placed hopes and prayers in that name, which made his heart feel so warm.
"Light...?" he murmured softly, trying to comprehend the burden and honor in that word. A small, innocent smile now appeared, one he couldn't suppress.
"You can do it, Lumi?" his mother encouraged.
Lumian nodded. "I can! I promise I will become the Light, not just for the kingdom but… But for everything!"
His mother smiled for the umpteenth time, yet Lumian never grew tired of that smile. He looked at her for a long time, imprinting her face in his mind…
Is that what you wanted, Mother? he thought inwardly, his naive resolve strengthening, holding firmly to that ideal. Alright, I will become…
…
"Light…" he murmured once more, but this time his voice was heavy, devoid of any innocence, due to his increasing age and maturity – and now he understood the true burden of that name.
Time passed faster than he had imagined, until finally he arrived at his current situation – sitting on a wooden chair, in a dusty, narrow room that smelled musty from the old wood, a familiarity that now felt natural to him.
His mother's voice, once so warm and soothing to his heart, could now only be bitterly remembered in his mind – she was gone, along with the collapse of the entire palace due to the coup led by his uncle.
But what hurt his heart the most was… He was starting to forget what his mother's voice sounded like. All he could still feel was the warmth she left behind through his name.
September 1, 546, he suddenly thought, remembering his mother. That was the date that always haunted him whenever he was lost in reverie. It was precisely on that day the large-scale coup took place – a massacre carried out by his own uncle, 'William', for reasons Lumian still did not know to this day.
But he saw everything; his father turning into a monster and attacking him, powerless soldiers, useless magic, the moon turning red, the sky bleeding. Yet, on that night, everything felt muffled in an eerie silence.
He could still feel it; an immense pressure that choked his neck, people screaming without sound, and the hypnotic light of the moon – still fresh in his memory.
Ridiculous, he inwardly cursed his uncle or whoever he was sure was behind it all, but his voice was small, without energy.
Eight years on the run from that coup had left him utterly exhausted; he could no longer cry because he was used to it… And he also had to appear strong in front of his sister, whom he had managed to rescue when she was only six years old.
And now he had reached the point where he wrote in his journal:
"You have taken everything I should have had, now at least let me live peacefully with what remains; Revenge? Taking back the throne? For what? Will my father… my mother… my brother return if I do that? I am sick of the palace. Now I just want to live as 'Lumian Ward', a citizen of the Valenor kingdom, not as 'Lumian Reiss Augustus'."
He was now in the village of Avalon, located on the outskirts of the Valenor kingdom – a kingdom that was once on good terms with his own. Even his father – King Alistair – was good friends with the King of Valenor, named Julian.
Everything was so beautiful; they often visited the Aethelgard kingdom and brought a princess named Charlotte, who was to be betrothed to him. But it wasn't a stiff diplomatic engagement for the kingdoms; rather, it was an engagement carried out because they… two wise kings who wanted their children to have a worthy and trustworthy partner.
And now it was all gone, as he now stepped into his seventeenth year. Now he had no right at all because he was no longer equal to Charlotte – Now he was merely one of her subjects, who even struggled to earn money.
Lumian took a deep breath. Then, with his slightly trembling hand, wounded by needle pricks, he began to move.
Stitch! Pull! Stitch! Pull!
With only the light of a half-melted candle and the unnatural flashes of lightning from 'Mount Namea', dozens of kilometers away, he didn't want to waste any more time – utilizing the flashes of light to knit a small teddy bear on his worn wooden table… He couldn't sew at all, but he forced himself, because this was for his sister, and perhaps for himself?
The rhythm of sewing was also like a calming mantra for him, well, at least it helped him slightly dispel the fragments of the horrifying events of that night.
Tap!
He tapped his needle on the table, then scraped it against the edge of the wood, trying to remove the rust that made his sewing feel heavy.
He yawned widely, a powerful drowsiness attacking him.
"Young master, why don't you just sleep?"
An inhuman voice, stuttering and like the scraping of two blocks of wood, broke the silence.
Lumian didn't stop his sewing; he merely raised his eyes, looking at the source of the voice. It was Barnaby, his wooden soldier doll – His blue glowing eyes were now blinking due to a lack of Spiritual Energy. The doll also couldn't move because its arms and legs were only attached to its body with thread.
The doll was a gift from his older brother 'Vaelion'; it could talk because Lumian was the one who brought it to life by performing a ritual alone in the palace, sacrificing his fingernails. Actually, at that time, he didn't understand that the doll his brother gave him, which he thought was a cheap toy unsuitable for him, was special; he had even thrown it away. But upon closer inspection, the doll turned out not to be ordinary; it had an empty space between its stomach and head, filled with a crystal called a Realm Heart – a crystal that could absorb spiritual energy.
After discovering this, a curious Lumian immediately used it as an experiment. He had read almost all the books on magic secretly in the palace library: 'Spiritual Harmonization', 'Equivalent Sacrifice', 'Feeling the Soul and Spiritual World'.
He then combined all that knowledge and performed a ritual by himself, sacrificing his fingernails. And indeed, once the ritual was complete, his nails instantly vanished, leaving his fingers with a painful sensation and flowing blood. But finally, the doll came to life; perhaps his nails were the price, and it was a fair trade in his opinion.
"Soon," he replied. Lumian wanted to finish the stitching to attach the arm; besides, the candle that was his light source was about to die.
Finally… The doll's arm was attached. He smiled warmly; now only the back part needed sewing.
But his eyes felt very heavy. He yawned again.
Lumian looked at the doll again, but his vision was blurry, his head felt dizzy, and it felt very strange – this wasn't dizziness from sleepiness; it was a headache that made his head throb and his stomach feel nauseous.
Swoosh!
A strong wind hit him, extinguishing the candle and slamming the window shutter against the wall.
Then he raised his gaze – In the distance, the clouds over Mount Namea swirled, accompanied by thunder rumbling more violently than before. The lightning, like roots, adorned the sky incessantly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two points of light; he lowered his gaze – Barnaby was now staring at him. His blue eyes, which had been blinking due to low energy, were now shining brightly.
Where did he get the energy from? Lumian wondered, sensing something strange. Barnaby wouldn't be active if he didn't receive a supply of spiritual energy, and Lumian hadn't given him any at all.
Crash!
This lightning strike felt closer, shaking the ground.
Lumian anchored his eyes back on the swirling vortex at the center of the Mountain.
"What is happening over there?"