"Some towns are born in silence. Others are forged in war. But Lumenfall… Lumenfall was sung into existence.
To live in Lumenfall was to breathe light and darkness. It wasn't just the glowing light pouring from the massive crystal spire at the town's center, or the shadows that loomed at every corner. No, it was the town itself.
The people say the winds in Lumenfall hum with memory. That the cobblestones beneath every foot remember every name, every sin, and every prayer ever whispered between its walls.
It's a town of beauty and burden. Here, gods speak. Not in visions or riddles, but openly. Through rituals. Through glowing orbs that defy mortal understanding.
And every century, one among the people is chosen to wear a crown they never asked for. For in this kingdom, rulers are not born to power; they are chosen by the god himself.
And as fate would have it, this time… he did not choose a noble, a knight, or a blood heir. He chose a boy from the dust."
The Stonekeeper's Son
In a small, sturdy house in the lower slopes of the town, lived the family of Elias, the Stonekeeper. Brann was the youngest son of Elias, thewidower whose hands could shape mountains but whose heart had long since turned to flint.
They were seven in total; Elias had six sons. Fridus, the eldest with a sharp tongue and big ambition; Silas, brooding and watchful; Hann, quick to anger; Josias, sly and calculating; and Macca, the big guy, though not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.
And then there was Brann. Sixteen, quiet and obedient to a fault.
He rose before the sun to carry stones. He stayed up after the moon had set to scrub the soot from his brothers' boots.
He never complained. Never raised his voice. If his father said dig, he dug. If his brothers mocked him, he smiled. Not once had he ever been cruel. Not once had he withheld love.
He had been nothing but good to them. Kind, loyal and forgiving, even when kindness was met with silence, and love with contempt. He gave and gave, and somehow still believed he hadn't given enough.
He loved them. Even when they didn't love him back. He saw something good in them, maybe deeply buried, but he wanted to believe it was there. He believed in the bonds of family.
Today's routine was different for Brann. He didn't have to rise before sun to carry stones because it was the Dominion Ritual day.
The kingdom never knew silence. From the winds that sang through the crystal spires, to the ancient bells that rang at dawn. Lumenfall was a place of sound. But on mornings like this, always, everywhere went still. Not even the birds dared to sing.
That morning, Brann stood barefoot outside their home, watching his brothers prepare to leave. Fridus was polishing his blade. Silas practiced a victory speech. Macca laughed cruelly at nothing in particular. None of them had spoken to Brann all morning.
Still, he carried Josias' cloak for him when he forgot it. Still, he helped tie the sashes. Still, he smiled. He didn't expect to be chosen. He only wanted to be there.
"Don't stand so close to us today," Hann muttered as they began the walk to the Sanctuary of Baldur. "People might think you're family."
Brann looked down. "Sorry."
"Of course you are," Fridus sneered.
Their father said nothing. Yet, Brann followed anyway.
Beneath the massive dome of the Sanctuaryof Baldur, thousands stood anxiously. Nobles, knights, peasants, children, everyone came.
Suspended in the air, a glowing orb floated at the center of the altar. And it would choose their next king.
Elias stood in the middle of the crowd, with his five sons arrayed around him. Fridus adjusted his garment, as if already imagining himself on the orb. Silas stared blankly ahead, with a scowl on his lips.
Hann fidgeted, muttering under his breath. Josias watched the crowd with impatience, while Macca shifted uncomfortably, he was bored.
But Brann stood far from them, in the shadows near the last row. His garment was plain, frayed at the seams, and his hair was uncombed. He hoped for a wise and just ruler for the kingdom.
The High Priest stepped forward with his hands raised. His voice echoed like thunder inside the Sanctuary.
"Today, we surrender to the will of Baldur, god of peace and righteousness. Today, the divine chooses not by favor… but by truth."
The orb pulsed once. Then twice. Then it began to spin slowly, then violently. Some people gasped out of horror and awe, while others dropped to their knees. A blinding light exploded from the orb, and then a face appeared. A boy's face.
Brann's face.
His face appeared clearly for all to see. Everyone began murmuring.
"No… no, that's wrong—"
"Who is he?"
"Is this some sort of joke?"
Brann stood frozen, staring into the blinding light. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His brothers were shocked and filled with disbelief.
Then, a deep voice came, not from the High Priest, not from the crowd, but from Baldur himself.
"I have given the throne to one I chose from the people. I have made my servant Brann king by anointing him this very day. My strength will always be with him; my power will make him strong. His enemies will never succeed against him; the wicked will not defeat him. I will crush his foes and kill everyone who hates him."
Brann shuddered just from listening to Baldur recite his promises to him. He couldn't believe his ears.
"I will love him and be loyal to him; I will always make him victorious. I will extend his kingdom. He will say to me, 'You are my god; you are my protector and redeemer.' I will make him my first-born son, the greatest of all kings. I will always keep my promise to him, and my covenant with him will last forever. His dynasty will be as permanent as the sky, and a descendant of his will always become king."
Brann was overwhelmed. Was this real? Him? He'd only ever wanted to be useful, needed. Not crowned. Not worshipped.
He turned, searching for the only faces that ever mattered. His brothers and his father. But where he hoped to find awe, joy and pride, he saw only rage.
The voice of Baldur continued. "But if his descendants disobey my Law, and do not live according to my commands, if they disregard my instructions and do not keep my commandments, then I will punish them for their sins; I will make them suffer for their wrongs. But I will not stop loving Brann or fail to keep my promise to him. I will not break my covenant with him or take back even one promise I made him. Once and for all, I have promised by my sovereign name I will never lie to Brann; he will always have descendants and I will watch over his kingdom as long as the sun shines."
The light faded from the Orb, leaving the image of Brann's face hovering in the air for just a moment before it disappeared. The silence in the dome was deafening. All eyes were now on Brann, not just the stonekeeper's son, but the chosen one, the unexpected ruler.