The Price of Being Seen
Being seen was its own kind of violence.
Lumi learned that before the first stone was thrown.
They gathered in the fractured plaza at the heart of Noctyrrh—citizens pulled from shadowed alleys and half-lit homes by rumors that moved faster than fear. Some came in awe, others in fury, most carrying the quiet terror of people who had survived too long by keeping their heads down.
Stars burned faintly above them, still unfamiliar, still wrong.
Lumi stood beside Blake at the plaza's center, her spine straight despite the tremor in her hands. Truth whispered relentlessly, brushing every face, every breath.
They want answers. They want blame. They want permission.
Blake shifted closer, his presence a steady weight at her side. The Dreadsword remained sheathed, but the night still bent toward him instinctively.
At twenty-five, he had commanded armies without flinching.
This frightened him more.
An older man stepped forward, voice shaking with anger. "You broke the night. My children can't sleep. The shadows don't listen anymore."
A woman shouted, "We were promised protection!"
Another voice cut sharper. "You were never meant to rule."
The truth surged, hot and overwhelming.
They are afraid of choice. Afraid of responsibility. Afraid that suffering might no longer be sacred.
Lumi inhaled slowly.
"At twenty-two," she said, her voice carrying without force, "I have bled for truths I did not choose. I have been caged so others could feel safe."
Murmurs rippled.
"The night you trusted was built on sacrifice without consent," she continued. "On love taken and called holy. That protection was never meant for you."
A stone struck the ground near her feet.
Blake moved instantly—but Lumi raised a hand.
"Let me," she whispered.
Truth flared—not as pain, but as clarity.
"You want the night back because it absolved you," she said gently. "Darkness asked nothing of you except obedience. Light asks you to choose who you will be."
Silence fell, heavy and trembling.
Then a voice from the back, small but steady: "Will it hurt?"
Lumi's breath caught.
"Yes," she answered honestly. "Change always does."
Another voice followed. "Will we be alone?"
She glanced at Blake.
"No," Lumi said. "Not if you don't abandon each other."
That was when the first blade was drawn.
Not by a citizen—but by a council loyalist, slipping through the crowd with practiced ease. The truth screamed a warning a heartbeat before Blake turned.
Steel flashed.
Blake intercepted the strike bare-handed, shadow snapping violently around his arm as blood spilled. The attacker fled, panic erupting in his wake.
"See?" someone cried. "This is what hope brings!"
Chaos threatened to swallow the square.
Blake stepped forward, voice cutting through the noise like iron.
"I was raised to believe fear was stability," he said. "That sacrifice was leadership."
The Dreadsword sang softly as he drew it—not in threat, but in promise.
"I will not rule you," Blake said. "But I will stand between you and those who would drag you back into chains."
The night responded—not bowing, but listening.
Lumi felt the cost settle deeper now.
Being seen meant being targeted.
Being chosen meant being hunted.
As the crowd slowly dispersed—uneasy, unresolved—Lumi leaned into Blake, exhaustion finally winning.
"They'll come for us," she murmured.
Blake pressed his forehead to hers. "Let them. We're done hiding."
Above them, the stars burned brighter—not warm, not kind, but unwavering.
And Lumi understood the final truth of visibility:
Light did not protect you.
It asked whether you were willing to endure what came next.