LightReader

Chapter 2 - STORM OF DARKNESS

The gentle, melodic drizzle that had kissed Lumisgrave's rooftops for hours was slowing—not stopping, but shifting—as though the heavens were drawing in a long, trembling breath.

The sound of laughter dimmed. The splashing feet of children fell silent. A hush crept in from every corner of the city, so sudden and complete that even the air seemed to hold itself still.

Somewhere deep in the earth beneath Lumisgrave, something stirred.

BOOM!

The sky split open. A single bolt of lightning screamed downward with a violence so primal, so absolute, it was as if a sword had been dragged across the fabric of reality itself. It didn't flash and vanish like a normal strike—it lingered, a jagged white scar carved into the clouds, lighting up the city like a scene frozen in time.

The great bell in the central tower let out a hollow, trembling CLANG, as if it, too, had felt the shock.

Birds burst into the air in panicked spirals, wings frantic against the sudden, unnatural silence.

Then the light began to die.

Not fade, but die.

The clouds above Lumisgrave coiled and thickened, spinning like a whirlpool of black smoke. Daylight was swallowed in seconds. The world plunged into a depthless dark—not dusk, not shadow, but a night so thick it made torches flicker and lanterns wheeze like choking lungs.

A street vendor looked up at the sky, face pale. "What's that ...."

The city's familiar hum turned to unease.

People stepped out from stalls and homes, looking upward. Mothers called for children. Shopkeepers lit lanterns—but the flames flickered oddly, sputtering against some unseen presence in the air.

And then the city began to react.

Back at the Modest Home – Arslan's Scene

The room darkened abruptly.

The comforting orange hue from the hearth turned grey, then was gone. Shadows swallowed the corners of the house like a creeping wave. The soft patter of the drizzle was no longer soothing—it sounded distant now, strange, like footsteps in the distance.

Arslan stood at the window, cup halfway to his lips. His brow furrowed. The steam rising from his tea drifted the wrong way—toward the glass, like it was being pulled.

> Mother (worried): "Why… why did it get so dark?"

Arslan didn't answer right away. He moved slowly to unlatch the window and open it.

A burst of cold wind met him, but not wind like normal. It carried no scent. No sound. Just a pressure… like being stared at by something immense and ancient.

He narrowed his eyes.

> Arslan (low, strained): "…This isn't just a storm."

> Mother: "What do you feel?"

He didn't speak. His fingers gripped the windowsill tighter, jaw clenched.

Then he whispered:

> Arslan: "It's like something covered sun and day turning night before time...."

He didn't move.

> Arslan (barely audible): "It's watching. From somewhere… close."

She reached for his arm—and in that second, a second BOOM cracked across the sky. The house shuddered. The window slammed shut on its own.

Arslan stumbled back.

> Mother (frightened): "Enough! We're staying inside. Whatever this is, we wait it out."

Arslan looked to the ceiling. The wood above creaked. A whisper—inaudible but felt—brushed across the walls.

Then something like a pulse traveled through the air.

A silent thud.

Every candle in the room went out.

Above Lumisgrave, at the highest balcony of the Ivory Spire, King Farhan stood like a statue carved from storm and stone.

The darkness unfurled below him like a black ocean consuming his kingdom. The towers no longer gleamed. The city no longer sang.

He did not move.

> Advisor (nervously): "Your Majesty… shall we sound the bells? The emergency horns?"

Farhan's white and black hair flared behind him in the wind. His eyes were narrowed—not in fear, but calculation.

> King Farhan (coldly): "Do it. Now. This… is not nature."

A flash of light danced far to the north, near the edge of the city.

The streets had fallen into chaos. People screamed. Horses broke from stables. Stalls overturned. Cries echoed through alleyways.

Some knelt and prayed.

Others ran.

The central square filled with confused civilians, guards trying to light torches—but they failed. Flame after flame extinguished itself as if smothered by invisible fingers.

In the silence, one voice rose:

> "The world is going to end"

Another:

"It's over now....."

And then the first bell rang.

GONG.

Then another.

GONG. GONG.

The emergency bells. First time in years.

Arslan sat hunched forward on the edge of his seat, every sense alive. His eyes glowed faintly—a flicker unnoticed by his mother.

> Mother: "Arslan… what's happening to you?"

His voice came as a whisper, but it seemed deeper—almost not his own.

> Arslan: "Mom.... I have to go outside to check what's happening there..."

Mother refuse "No... Just stay inside"

The ground trembled.

Outside, somewhere deep beneath Lumisgrave, a low groan rose—like stone grinding against stone.

More Chapters