The dream began with silence.
Not the kind that comes from peace, but the kind that waits before something breaks.
I stood in a vast hall made of gold — or what used to be gold. The floor was cracked, the walls scorched black as if touched by the fire of a dying sun. Every surface glimmered faintly, reflecting not light, but memory.
Above me hung a thousand suspended crowns, each fractured, each humming softly like broken bells.
And at the far end of the hall stood a **throne**.
It wasn't whole. The seat was split down the center, one half gleaming with cold, perfect light, the other burned and hollow. Between them, a faint line of shadow pulsed like a heartbeat.
I stepped closer. The air trembled with every movement, as though the world itself feared what rested there.
Something whispered behind me — a voice without sound, a presence without shape.
> *"You are late, Lucenara."*
The name sent a shock through me.
Lucenara.
It echoed as both truth and curse, cutting deeper than any sound should.
I looked at the throne again — and saw words etched into its base, glowing faintly as if written in starlight and blood:
**Luce — nara**
The letters shimmered, reshaping themselves as I read.
> *"The Light Born of the End."*
The meaning came unbidden.
**"Luce,"** the light that illuminates.
**"Nara,"** the eternal flame that consumes.
Together — light and fire, creation and destruction. A being forged not of balance, but of convergence.
> *Light that burns. Fire that redeems. The end that begins again.*
I felt the weight of those words settle in my chest like molten stone.but I could not understand it.
I stepped closer — and the throne moved.
Not physically, but spiritually, like something beneath the surface shifted in response to my presence. The air thickened. My vision fractured.
Then I saw it.
A figure sitting upon the throne — dim, half-formed, its body made of light and cinders. Its face was mine, yet not mine. Its eyes burned gold and white, flickering like dying stars.
> *"You took my name,"* it said quietly. *"But not my purpose."*
(And it said). (your era as long past. you should not exist.you are too dangerous."*
And lucky whisper to himself.
I wanted to speak, to ask what it meant — but the words dissolved before they could form.
The figure raised its hand. Flames of gold and ash swirled around its fingers. Behind it, shadows wept light, and angels without faces hung from invisible chains, their halos cracked and bleeding radiance.
> *"When the throne fell, I fell with it,"* it whispered. *"And now… you walk in my ruin."*
A roar followed — not from the figure, but from the world. The hall shattered into fragments of gold and glass, spinning through darkness.
I reached out to steady myself — and touched the throne.
The instant my skin met the metal, everything ignited.
Flames burst across my body, not burning, but searing symbols into me. Each mark carved truth into my flesh.
And then, a voice — not the same as before. Greater. Endless.
> *"Luce—nara. Light of the End. Bearer of the Broken Crown."*
> *"The dawn is not salvation. It is memory."*
The throne collapsed into dust.
And I fell — through light, through silence, through myself—
---
"**Lucky!**"
A voice broke the dream.
I gasped awake, drenched in sweat, the echo of flames still dancing behind my eyes. The ceiling above me was dimly lit, streaked with faint cracks of golden light. My chest ached where the marks burned beneath my skin.
Kael stood beside my bed, worry written all over his face. "Lucky, what's wrong? You're sweating like you ran all the way to the cliffs."
I forced myself to sit up, my breaths uneven. "It's… nothing. Just a dream."
He frowned, crossing his arms. "A dream? You were thrashing like you were fighting someone."
"I told you, it's not serious."
Kael didn't seem convinced. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. But get up. The High Priest is holding morning rites today. We'll be late if you keep sleeping."
"Morning rites?" I repeated, my voice still hoarse.
"Yeah. The **Temple of the Radiant Dawn.**" He gave a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. "You said you wanted to thank the Goddess for saving us, remember? The High Priest is supposed to bless all who survived the last storm."
The Goddess again.
Even her name made the marks on my skin stir uneasily.
I glanced toward the window. The light outside was pale and diffused, glowing in a way that felt too clean — almost sterile. The kind of light that hides what it touches.
Kael nudged me again. "Come on. You can wash up and wear your church robe. They'll scold us if we show up late again."
He left the room, muttering about burnt offerings and temple queues.
I sat there for a moment longer, gripping the edge of the bed. My mind replayed the vision — the broken throne, the figure, the word **Luce–nara** etched in flame.
When I closed my eyes, I could still see the glow of that ancient script beneath my eyelids.
**Light born of the end.**
The phrase pulsed through me like a heartbeat, whispering things my mortal mind shouldn't understand.
Was it a dream?
Or was it memory?
I touched my chest. The marks there were faint now, hidden beneath skin — but the warmth had not faded.
I dressed slowly, letting the silence of the house fill the space between my thoughts. Kael's soft humming reached from the next room — a tune that sounded both innocent and old, like something passed down from a world before faith learned to lie.
When I stepped outside, the air was crisp, tinged with silver light. The village stirred quietly — people heading toward the temple, their faces lifted with reverence, hope, and exhaustion.
The path to the temple wound through old stone streets, lined with carved pillars depicting radiant figures holding torches. Each one smiled the same way — serene, distant, hollow.
Kael walked beside me, carrying a small wooden box wrapped in cloth. "Offerings," he explained. "Just fruit this time. We couldn't afford incense after the last tithe."
I nodded absently. My gaze was fixed ahead — where the temple rose like a monument to light itself.
It was immense — a tower of white marble, its surface glowing faintly as though alive. At its peak, a radiant symbol burned — a circle of wings encircling a single eye.
The sight made something inside me recoil.
"Kael," I asked quietly, "what do you know about the Goddess of Light?"
He glanced at me, surprised. "What do you mean? She's the one who saved us. Everyone knows that. When the skies burned and the Fallen descended, she cast her light to drive them back. She… she protects us."
Protects.
That word again.
I looked up at the tower, its walls reflecting a light that didn't feel natural. Somewhere behind that brilliance, I could almost hear the faint hum of chains.
The closer we walked, the heavier the air grew — like the world itself bent toward that place.
Kael smiled faintly. "You'll feel better after the blessing, Lucky. The High Priest says the Goddess can even heal memory if you open your heart."
I didn't answer.
Because deep down, I already knew what I would find inside that temple — not peace, not light, but the truth behind the name that haunted me:
**Lucenara — the Light Born of the End.**
And perhaps, in that blinding radiance, I would discover which side of the throne I truly belonged to.
---