In a spacious room devoid of warmth, Lumina sat cross-legged within a circle of runes. Candlelight flickered in every corner, yet not a single flame touched her skin. The air felt dense, as if rejecting the very existence of magic from her being.
Her fingers trembled. Once more, she raised her hands and chanted:
> "Ahmira... da'el... selanthe..."
An ancient incantation from her bloodline. A legacy from her mother. And still—no wind, no water, not even a spark of light appeared at her fingertips. Nothing.
Her eyes began to redden. Her breath shallow. She bit her lip, holding back a surge of anger and despair. Who knew how many hundreds of times she had repeated it—yet the result remained unchanged.
> "Why… why am I the only one who can't…?" she whispered.
Soft footsteps echoed beyond the wall. Without a sound, the door creaked open. A spirit appeared—a silver-robed old woman with eyes like mist. Verruksha.
> "They never told you, did they?" Verruksha spoke with a flat tone, yet it pierced like a blade.
Lumina didn't answer. She stared at the spirit, tension etched into her gaze, but she didn't reject her presence. Verruksha stepped closer, then raised her hand and touched the air before her.
A faint light shimmered, forming a vision: a baby girl born in a rain of blood, surrounded by Hellseers who inscribed glowing seals into her tiny body.
> "You are not a pure heir. You… are an empty vessel, sealed. A place to hold something far greater than yourself," Verruksha whispered.
Lumina's body trembled. Her eyes could not look away. In the vision Verruksha revealed, her mother wept as she handed the infant Lumina to the Hellseers—among them were Saelmir and Elhara. They spoke a name: "Vessaria, the Veiled Source."
> "That was your name before they changed it," Verruksha said gently.
> "N-No… I am no one but Lumina…" she murmured, yet her hand reached out to the vision—as if yearning to touch the past.
> "The more you recognize yourself, the more you open to me," Verruksha smiled faintly. Her shadow grew, wrapping around the room.
The protective runes Enver had drawn on the walls began to tremble, cracking little by little. Verruksha moved closer, and the light in her eyes seeped into Lumina's own.
> "Let me show you the truth they never gave you."
Suddenly, a voice outside shattered the silence. Enver.
> "Lumina!" he called.
The spirit of Verruksha shrank swiftly, retreating into the folds of shadow. Lumina collapsed, gasping. Her gaze unfocused, but she was still conscious.
The door burst open, and Enver entered. He saw the room shaking subtly. All candlelight extinguished at once. He swiftly raised his hand and planted a card into the floor. A protective aura spread, sealing off the remnants of Verruksha's presence.
> "What did she tell you?" Enver asked sharply.
Lumina lowered her head.
> "That I'm not Lumina… that I'm… a vessel," her voice barely a whisper, but honest.
Enver looked deep into her. He knew—Verruksha had already begun to root herself within Lumina's soul.
> "Don't believe everything you see. Even a Hellseer's eyes can be deceived when the heart wavers."
Lumina nodded faintly. But deep within, doubt had begun to grow like a hairline crack in a mirror.
She was still Lumina… wasn't she?
Far away, in the astral realm, Verruksha stood above a black lake.
> "One crack has opened. The rest… is only a matter of time."