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— Prologue:The Lightfall.
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Fifty years ago, the world awoke. And everything changed.
The sun rose as it always had.
Birds filled the skies.
Children ran with laughter.
Markets opened.
Life moved in its familiar rhythm.
A tiny speck drifted across the sky.
Not a star.
Not a meteor.
Not anything known to science or divinity.
Something else entirely.
It grew. Then ruptured.
From its core, a blinding golden light spilled across the heavens.
It fell slowly, soft as snow, sinking into something more fragile than flesh.
Without words, it spoke—gentle as a lullaby, yet heavy with forgotten dreams and unspoken desires.
It was called The Lightfall — a phenomenon that reshaped the world from that moment onward.
---
Generations rose and fell beneath its glow.
They became beings now called Awakeners — believed to carry the Light's echo within them, wielding forces no one could truly name.
Some became heroes, inspiring hope in humanity.
Others fell into darkness, spreading fear and chaos wherever they went.
And some simply lived as they wished, carving out a normal life amid the extraordinary.
Over time, their existence blurred into myth.
Myth hardened into culture.
And culture became a chain no one could break, binding generations to the legacy of the Awakeners.
It may not be a grand tale.
But within it lies light and darkness, heroes and monsters, and the echoes of powers that could shape—or destroy—the world.
If you dare, follow the story. See how far the Lightfall reaches.
---
Part one.
✦⋆☾ ⋆✦ Redemption ✦⋆☾ ⋆✦
They said the Lightfall changed everything.
But for me, it only made the darkness clearer… until it was all I could feel.
"Where the hell am I?"
My voice didn't echo — it just vanished into the black, thick as tar, heavy as memory.
Fear crept across my face. Shadows gathered beneath my eyes.
I stood frozen, hands clenched at my sides — lost, consumed by nothingness.
A faint light appeared ahead. Like a doorway, slowly opening. Gentle. Familiar.
Not blinding, but enough to pierce the darkness.
It spilled over me, catching my face in half-light, revealing the tense lines of my jaw, the wide, searching eyes, the shadows beneath them deepened by fear.
The light highlighted everything I had tried to hide even from myself: doubt, uncertainty, the weight pressing down on my chest.
My feet moved reluctantly, each step stiff, as if the nothingness clung to my heels, whispering that I didn't belong in the light.
For a fleeting moment, hope flickered — fragile, trembling, painfully aware of how close it was to being snuffed out.
The instant I crossed the threshold, the void sighed behind me, hungry and patient.
I shivered, heart tightening, and wondered if this time… I'd stepped into something like heaven's lie.
But the moment I stepped over, I knew.
A nightmare — etched into memory, unchanging, unyielding — had returned once more.
---
I entered a playground I once ran to for joy.
Now it was drowned in dark blue.
The air reeked faintly of rust and rain.
The swings creaked like old bones, moving on their own.
Ghosts with nowhere else to go rode them.
Then I saw them.
Two bodies, laid out like broken prayers.
Massacred beyond mercy.
My parents.
I was only fifteen.
Too young to see that kind of cruelty.
Too old to ever forget it.
Most kids would've cried. Screamed. Begged for answers.
But me?
I just watched. Cold. Still.
Even as something deep inside me cracked forever.
---
The voices came again.
"Kill them all."
The words felt like shards of something I almost remembered… something buried deep inside me.
"Let it go…"
The voice seemed like an echo of someone I shouldn't have forgotten.
"End it."
Heavy. Cold. Yet… why did it feel like it was waiting for me, not just anyone?
"Shut up," I said, calm. Not pleading.
They only laughed, echoing louder until the sound pressed at the edges of my mind.
"Shut up!" I screamed.
The world reacted.
The ground split open beneath me, a thunderous crack ripping through the air as blue light flared behind my eyes.
Power surged outward, wild and alive, coursing under my skin like liquid fire.
It wasn't just power. It was recognition — alive beneath my skin, crawling, breathing, pushing to break free.
If this was the same light that split the sky on the day of the Lightfall…
Then why had it always seemed just beyond my reach, like something locked inside me, waiting for a key I'd is never held?
---
Then silence.
A single breath.
And I woke.
The ceiling. My room.
The blue-dark glow lingered in my eyes long after waking, like the dream had branded itself into my sight.
I opened my eyes.
The ceiling. My room.
The faint scent of coffee drifted through the air.
Gold morning light spilled through the blinds, warm and steady against the cold blue-black chill still clinging to my skin.
The hum of the city outside was distant, muffled, almost musical — a soft contrast to the violent crack of thunder in my mind moments ago.
Birds chirped in the morning, a colorless, ordinary sound.
Yet it felt piercing, after the deafening roar that had filled my head.
---
I sat upright, breathing even, heartbeat already at its usual rhythm.
The dream never fades. But I hope one day it will.
Fingertips brushed the smooth, warm sheets.
The cold from the dream lingered like a shadow.
But reality pressed back with warmth.
Death is a fate everyone will face — whether quietly, surrounded, by accident, or violently.
In the end… you're forgotten.
No echoes of your laughter.
No traces of your pain.
No one left to hold the moments you lived for.
The world just keeps moving, like you never existed.
---
I let the thought settle, fingertips tracing the edge of the bed.
The room smellea d faintly of dust and old wood, grounding me.
Death… everyis one faces it.
But my parents had left their echoes behind, imprinted in me.
I remembered them. Their presence, love, care, courage — everything they had given me wrapped around me like a warm, unyielding shield.
Even now, I could feel its faint pulse lingering in the hollow corners of my chest.
A reminder: still, I am not always alone.
---
Legs swung over the edge of the bed as I stood.
Blue-dark light flowed across my body, drifting like smoke, smooth and serene — a soft, living glow.
For a heartbeat, the dream pressed close.
But the aura moved before I did, settling around me like a protective veil.
I let it linger, delicate as breath, shimmering faintly along my skin.
Then, as if it had never been, it slipped away, vanishing into nothing.
Leaving only the faint echo of its presence behind.
Mask back in place. Every movement precise, deliberate.
Nothing — not even the shadows in my mind — could stop me.
Blue-dark light traced the edges of my form, faint but insistent — a whisper of what I had barely controlled, lingering still.
And somewhere beneath it all, a flicker of will remained:
Fragile. Unbroken.
A quiet strength no darkness could ever fully erase.
---
I strode into the bathroom.
Shoulders relaxed. Hands resting lightly on the sink.
I splashed cold water on my face.
Lifted my eyes to the mirror.
For a moment, I simply observed the calm reflection staring back.
A face that had seen more than it let on.
Blue-light pupils — steady, alert, measured.
Grey-black hair, straight and neat, framing a face that bore order over the chaos inside.
Fingers grazed skin pale and composed — a shield that had long since learned to hold the world at bay.
Chest rising and falling in calm, even breaths.
Lips relaxed.
Every line, every shadow, contained.
A face that could pass in a crowd — yet still carried the quiet weight of experience, lessons learned, things endured.
---
After a shower, I returned to my room.
The quiet of the house pressed around me.
Soft. Familiar.
Yet heavy with lingering echoes of the morning.
I pulled on a blue-light hood and plain black trousers.
Fabric settling over my skin like second armor.
Every movement deliberate, measured.
Each step purposeful, as if preparing for something unseen yet inevitable.
Fingers lingered over the seams, smoothing folds, checking the fit — a quiet ritual of readiness.
I paused. Breathing evenly.
Scanning the day ahead.
Thoughts aligned themselves with precision.
Anticipation existed, yes.
But tempered by control. By awareness.
Nothing in my stance, actions, or gaze suggested hesitation.
Every motion. Every inhale. Proof I was present, ready, and unshaken.
---
"Neriah? Are you awake?"
Her voice was soft. Hesitant.
Followed by a gentle knock.
I moved and opened the door.
Mira stood there.
Eyes wide with concern and curiosity, dark and luminous all at once.
Long black hair spilled down her back like liquid ink, a few strands drifting forward to catch the light.
Her black-and-white uniform gave her a quiet elegance, fitting for someone who had always been my caretaker.
"Good morning, Mira," I said softly.
She blinked, a little surprised I hadn't greeted her that way in years.
Her posture straightened, shoulders easing as she steadied herself.
For a moment, she just stood there. Quiet. Studying me.
Poised. With a faint hesitation in the tilt of her head, as if weighing every word I'd spoken.
"Good morning," she said, recovering quickly.
Hands met before her, fingers brushing together in quiet, practiced calm.
"I made you breakfast before you go out."
I rolled my shoulders back, ran a hand through my hair, brushing away the last traces of the dream.
"Thanks. I really appreciate it," I said. Words lighter than they felt in a long time.
Her eyes widened slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"I don't need you to thank me," she added softly.
"I've only done what I should. It's my job, after all. You are my master."
She straightened a little. Calm, but firm.
The words landed wrong.
A weight pressed against my chest.
But I didn't let it show.
I kept my expression neutral.
Shoulders steady.
Only the faintest flicker in my eyes betrayed the tension coiled beneath.
---
"Can you do me a favor?" I said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.
"Don't call me 'Master' anymore."
Her smile faltered.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features.
She lifted her gaze, meeting mine with careful steadiness.
Yet her fingers twitched at her sides — a small, almost unconscious betrayal of her composure.
"I've always called you by that name," she said softly.
"It's the only way I know to honor the place you've held in my life."
She was right.
Her presence was steady. Quiet. Almost motherly.
A constant I could rely on when the world offered nothing else.
"It's not wrong for you to call me 'Master,'" I said, low and measured.
"But I'd prefer if you used my real name instead. It would mean more to me.
And if that feels unfamiliar…" I shrugged lightly, meeting her gaze.
"Then think of me as you would a son."
I exhaled slowly.
The tension in my chest eased as the words settled between us.
Her eyes widened. The words sank deeper than I'd expected.
A warmth flickered there. Fragile but bright.
As if she'd been waiting years to hear them.
She shifted slightly forward, leaning just enough to meet the moment.
"If that is truly what you wish… very well then.
I will call you by your name," she replied evenly.
For the first time in years, I felt I had given her something — not only taken.
I let my shoulders drop.
The quiet weight in my chest lifted slightly.
"Okay then… hurry up, before your breakfast gets cold," she said, stepping down the hall.
I gave a faint smile. Small, but real.
My gaze lingered on her as she disappeared.
Her voice was the only sound that didn't echo like a ghost in this house.
Almost enough to make me believe the dream had ended.
Almost.
---
But the silence I've known has a way of disguising whispers I never knew whether they were mine… or hallucinations given shape.
That terrified me more than anything.
So much that even breathing felt like defiance.
Every step forward was like walking into a storm I couldn't survive.
That's when I realized…
They weren't waiting for my weakness.
They were waiting for me to remember — the light I once held, before I chose to fall.
—