Kael's earliest memories were not of the wide, open skies or glittering streets of the city above. His world had always been shaped by stone and shadow, the underground labyrinth of Lumiria a refuge carved out of necessity. The tunnels were uneven and jagged, their rough-hewn walls forever damp with condensation. The air was tinged with the scent of iron and earth, a constant reminder of their distance from the surface. Yet, to Kael, it was home.
His mother's voice was the anchor in those early days, a melody that wound its way through the oppressive silence of the tunnels. She sang softly as she worked, her voice rising and falling in tones that glowed faintly in the dim light. Lumirians' emotions colored their eyes, and his mother's shimmered with deep purple when she looked at him—a color rich with love and comfort.
"Never forget who you are, Kael," she said, brushing her hand gently against his cheek. Her eyes shifted to a soft green as she added, "Our emotions are our strength. They connect us to each other, even when the world above tries to make us disappear."
Kael didn't fully understand her words at the time, but they lingered with him, growing sharper as the years passed. His father, Erydan, was less vocal about their heritage but no less proud. He was a silent protector, his presence steady and reassuring as he led Kael through the hidden pathways of Lumiria. Their world was dangerous, not because of the tunnels but because of what waited beyond them: the regulators and their ceaseless patrols.
Erydan taught Kael how to navigate the shadows, how to sense the faint vibrations of a nearby drone or the subtle hum of the system's surveillance network. "The system doesn't see us as people," he said one night as they crouched in the darkness, waiting for a patrol to pass overhead. "To them, we're anomalies—flaws in their perfect design. But that's why we can never stop fighting."
Kael listened intently, his green eyes wide as he soaked in his father's lessons. Erydan's words were always calm but purposeful, carrying a quiet strength that Kael admired. He wanted to be like his father—to protect their people, to keep their light alive in a world that sought to extinguish it.
But the light didn't always survive.
The day the regulators came for his father was etched into Kael's memory like a scar. He was eight years old, hiding under the dining table as Erydan faced the black-armored enforcers at their door. The room smelled faintly of oil and metal, the scent of the regulators' presence mingling with the warmth of their home.
"Stand aside, Erydan," one of the regulators said, his voice cold and mechanical. "You've been flagged for subversion."
Kael's mother stepped forward, her purple eyes flashing with anger. "We've done nothing wrong," she said, her voice trembling but defiant. "We're just trying to live."
"Emotion disrupts harmony," the regulator replied. "And your kind... refuses to comply."
Kael felt his chest tighten as he watched his father step closer to the regulators, his silver-tinged gaze unflinching. "If you want me, fine," Erydan said evenly. "But leave my family out of this."
The regulators didn't respond. Instead, they moved in unison, their heavy boots shaking the ground as they seized Erydan. Kael clenched his fists, his green eyes glowing brighter as his emotions surged. He wanted to run to his father, to fight, but his mother's firm hand on his shoulder held him back.
"Stay quiet," she whispered, her eyes shifting to blue for sorrow. "Please, Kael."
Erydan turned his head, his gaze meeting Kael's for the briefest moment. There was no fear in his eyes, only a fierce determination. Then the regulators dragged him away, their shadows swallowing the light of their home.
Kael never saw his father again.
The loss of his father left a void that Kael didn't know how to fill. His mother tried to hold their family together, her voice a constant presence in the tunnels. But the songs she sang were tinged with grief, her purple eyes often clouded with silver. Kael threw himself into learning—learning the paths of Lumiria, learning how to survive in a world that saw him as an anomaly.
By the time he was a teenager, Kael had become a shadow himself. He moved through the tunnels with silent precision, his instincts honed by years of training. He worked with other Lumirians to secure supplies, his green eyes sharp as he evaded the drones and patrols that hunted them. The tunnels had taught him patience, discipline, and the strength to keep going, even when every step felt heavier than the last.
Kael's mother passed when he was seventeen, her voice fading into silence one final time. He stood alone at the edge of the underground chamber where they laid her to rest, the soft glow of the Lumirian lights casting long shadows across the walls. He clenched his fists, his emotions swirling as his green eyes flickered briefly to blue.
"You'll see them again someday," an elder said softly, placing a hand on Kael's shoulder. "But until then, fight for what they believed in. Fight for all of us."
And Kael did. He became a leader among the Lumirians, his calm determination guiding their efforts to protect their people. The regulators' grip on the city tightened with each passing year, but Kael refused to let them win. His emotions—his anger, his sorrow, his love—became the fire that kept him going.
Now, as he stood at the edge of the Lumirian territories, Kael adjusted the hood of his cloak and tightened his grip on the hilt of his dagger. The city above shimmered with artificial light, its cold glow unyielding. But Kael wasn't afraid. He was ready.
Tonight, he would take the first step toward uncovering the system's secrets. He would fight for his people, for the memory of his parents, and for a future where the Lumirians' light could shine freely.