Last Light of Lumenór

The ballroom of Lumenór shimmered like a living sunrise.

Golden vines of ivy climbed the marble pillars, their leaves glowing faintly where drops of liquid light ran through them: magic harnessed by glass veins. Sunlight refracted from hundreds of suspended crystals, painting the room in shifting hues of gold and rose. The air smelled of citrus and jasmine, carried by enchanted breezes from the gardens above.

Every archway was etched with runes that pulsed in rhythm with the city’s great solar heart, the crystal at the center of the castle that gave life to its fountains and gardens. Water shimmered in clear channels carved into the floor, flowing in quiet loops between the guests: a gentle reminder that in this kingdom, even the rivers obeyed the sun.

It was supposed to be a night of celebration: the Solstice Ball, honoring the endless cycle of the sun, the strength of the kingdom, and the radiance of House Solarys.

But to Princess Elleanor, known only to a few as Lia, it felt like standing inside a cage made of light.

She stood near one of the towering windows, fingers brushing the petals of a bouquet meant for decoration, golden lilies that never wilted, kept alive by the palace’s solar crystals. She wondered what it would be like if they could grow on their own, under real sunlight, not the kind bottled and controlled by royal hands.

Across the hall, her brother Prince Adrian stood at the dais, posture regal, his smile calm.

“Tonight,” he said, voice carrying through the hall, “we celebrate not only the longest day, but the light that lives within us. The light that endures, even when the world darkens.”

Applause rose like a tide. Lia clapped too, politely, though her heart wasn’t in it. She loved her brother, truly, but her fingers itched for soil, for air unsoiled by politics and sneering nobles. She itched for the gardens she holds dear, safe from the outside world - would prefer, even, to lay in the earth in between her flowers and herbs, than being stuck at this ball.

Alas, Lia had to be here and show her support to her brother, the heir to the throne, because she knew that since father fell ill, rumors and intrigue were brewing in court. That Adrian, her dear brother, had eyes and hands wanting to take him from the post of regent.

On the other side of the dais, but a few paces behind, Captain Katherine Vale Solbrandt watched in silence. Her armor was polished goldsteel, runes flickering softly beneath the plates, not for decoration, but power. Her duty was to guard the royal line, not to join in its splendor, and the runes reflected that - wards upon wards so she could safely be their shield. And yet, her gaze lingered on Lia more often than she would admit.

Then, faint flicker pulsed through the crystal lamps. The musicians hesitated for a beat, and the air grew a touch colder. Lia’s gaze caught on a man at the edge of the crowd: pale robes, eyes sharp as shards of night. He was smiling, but not at the speech.

Katherine noticed it too.

Kate’s gloved hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, the runes along her wrist glowing faintly beneath the leather. Her armor gleamed like sunlight caught in motion, but her expression was pure calculation. She’d served the royal family since she was seventeen; she knew how celebration could turn into chaos in the blink of an eye.

Her eyes met Lia’s across the crowd, a silent exchange, quick as breath.

Stay close.

Lia gave the smallest nod.

The music swelled again, the crowd returning to laughter and dance. Adrian’s voice echoed through the hall - warm, proud, steady - and for a fleeting moment, it almost felt safe again.

Lia exhaled, the back of her neck prickling.

And then, as the prince raised his cup to the sun, one of the hanging spheres above them cracked, spilling liquid light like blood.

The ballroom fell silent.

The light faltered.

At first, only a flicker, a shiver along the golden vines that climbed the marble pillars. Then a pulse, deep and wrong, as if the sun itself had forgotten how to breathe.

The laughter died. Music trembled.

Every floating orb flickered once, twice - and then the light screamed.

A sound like glass breaking rattled inside their bones.

The room went dark.

For one heartbeat, the silence was absolute. Then, the world erupted.

A rift of red light tore through the crystal ceiling, splitting the dawn painted sky in two. Shards of molten glass rained down like dying stars. The air, once perfumed with jasmine, filled with the stench of burning silk and ozone.

People screamed by the dozens, then hundreds. The sound was unbearable: a symphony of terror echoing off marble walls.

Lia stood frozen, eyes wide as the chandelier above her crashed into the dance floor, scattering its jewels across the marble like spilled constellations and hitting inattentive nobles. The rivers of solar water carved into the floor turned black, the glow sucked away as though the sun itself had been wounded.

“Adrian!” She gasped, but her voice vanished beneath the chaos.

Her brother stood at the dais, shouting commands, his golden armor lit by the firestorm above.

“Form ranks! Shield the exits!”

But the soldiers who poured through the broken ceiling weren’t his.

They came in armors of shadow, not really humans, with crests of eclipsed suns and blades that drank the light around them. The Crepuscular Order.

Magic clashed with steel. Solar runes shattered like glass.

“Lia!”

Katherine’s voice cut through the noise, raw, urgent, alive.

She ran, boots skidding on the slick floor, her armor glowing like a falling star. The runes across her body flared to life, every vow she’d ever sworn burning at once.

A shadowed blade sliced through the smoke. Kate turned just in time - her sword met it midair, deflecting the strike, but another blow followed, sharper, crueler. Metal screamed.

Pain bloomed across her side as a line of heat and blood ran beneath the golden plates. She staggered, one knee hitting the floor, and, for a second, the light in her runes flickered.

But she didn’t stop.

With a ragged breath, she pushed to her feet, ignoring the wet warmth spreading beneath her armor. The runes on her hands burned white-hot, sealing themselves against the pain. She drove her blade through the next attacker, molten light spilling from the wound.

She would not fall. Not while Lia was still standing.

Another explosion shook the hall. Lia stumbled backward, eyes wide, and Kate moved - pure instinct, pure training, pure devotion. She caught the princess by the wrist, pulling her into her chest as debris rained down.

“Stay with me!” She shouted over the thunder.

“You’re hurt..!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

The words came like iron. Her blood hit the marble, glowing faintly gold before fading to red.

“Move!”

Through the smoke, Lia saw Adrian, still fighting, still standing. Their eyes met across the ruin.

“Katherine!” Adrian’s voice cracked through the chaos. “Take my sister now!”

Lia shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. “No, Adrian…!”

“Go!”

The ceiling groaned. Another beam of fire split the room.

Kate didn’t wait. She grabbed Lia’s arm, hauling her through the collapsing archway as the ballroom caved behind them, the sound of breaking light and burning gold chasing their every step.

As they ran, Lia looked back one last time. Through the smoke, she saw her brother raise his sword, a silhouette of light against a sea of shadow.

Then the world fell apart.

Heat and thunder chased them down the corridors, with light fracturing, fire spilling through shattered glass. Every hallway was a wound in the palace’s heart, bleeding smoke and gold.

Kate half-dragged Lia through the chaos, her sword still glowing in her bloodstained hand. Behind them, the ballroom collapsed with a roar that swallowed music, laughter, and prayer alike.

They burst into the open air of the royal gardens.

The sight stole Lia’s breath. The Solstice Gardens - her mother’s gardens, the ones where Lady Althea taught a small Elleanor about herbs, and light, and healing - burned. Solar vines curled in on themselves, glass petals bursting under the heat. Fountains of light boiled into steam, filling the night with the scent of scorched jasmine and iron.

“No…” she whispered. “No, no…!”

She tried to reach out, magic sparking instinctively from her fingertips, threads of green light weaving into the air, trying to smother the flames. For a heartbeat, the fire obeyed. The vines shivered, the smoke thinned.

Then the magic broke. The flames roared higher, hungrier, feeding on the light she gave them.

“It’s no use.” Kate coughed, voice rough. “We have to go!”

She pushed forward, pulling Lia with her and breaking through the pain. But in a flash, a streak of shadow cut through the air in their direction. Lia barely saw it before Kate shoved her aside.

Steel struck gold.

Kate staggered, the world lurching with her. The magic blade had found the weak seam beneath her arm and formed a deep, ugly wound before vanishing. Her armor dimmed, light leaking from the runes like dying fireflies.

“Kate!”

“I’m fine..!”

But her knees said otherwise. Lia caught her as she fell, blood soaking through the cracks of the golden plate.

“You’re not fine!”

The wound pulsed with a sickly darkness - not just blood, but the signature corruption from the Shadow Knights. Lia’s heart slammed against her ribs. She looked around the gardens, the smoke, the chaos, as her mind screamed for something, anything.

She tore at the earth around her, scattering the few herbs she could find into her palm: sunmoss, crushed roseleaf, moonflower petals. Her hands shook.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes.” She whispered, trembling.

The herbs shimmered under her touch. She pressed her palms against the wound the best she could, squeezing them under hard armor. The light burst forth, splashes of golden and green, searing and soft all at once. Kate’s body arched, a choked cry tearing from her throat as the corruption burned away.

“I’m sorry,” Lia gasped. “I’m sorry- I know it hurts, hold on…”

When the light faded, the corruption was gone. It wasn’t a healed wound, not even closed, but the blood flow was slow enough to keep her alive. Lia’s arms trembled with exhaustion.

“You…” Kate rasped. “You used… Light magic.”

“I just… Did what I could.”

Kate’s eyes softened, unfocused but still burning with stubborn fire.

“Then you did enough.”

They moved again, slowly now. Down the lower terraces, past the ruined fountains, through smoke that glowed red from the reflection of the burning city below.

The outer wall loomed ahead, ivy curling across the old stone like fading veins of sunlight. A narrow gate, half-forgotten, meant for servants long gone, stood open.

From there, Lia turned back.

Lumenór Castle blazed under a red sun, its spires collapsing in slow motion, gold melting into shadow.

“We’ll come back.” She said, her voice small against the roar.

Kate’s hand found hers: rough, warm, shaking.

“We will.” She whispered, urging Lia forward. “I promise.”

And together, they vanished into the tree line of the nearby forest.