Chapter 40 – Soul in Flames
Lumina stood in the heart of a burning city.
The fire did not come from magic — but from the wrath of humans who had lost their way.
Houses melted. The sky glowed red. Screams and prayers mingled in the air.
Amid the ruins, a little girl sat clutching a half-burnt doll. Her eyes were hollow.
Her mother had died before her. Her father had turned to charcoal.
Her neighbor had stabbed him — for water.
"This is no magic war. This is moral collapse," Ilior said.
Lumina walked slowly, as if taking in the scene.
At the end of an alley, an old man enchanted a well so only his family could drink.
A young woman twisted the memories of her neighbors so they would forget who had stolen their children.
"Humans can change… when they feel fear. Fear of dying," Lumina said.
She raised her hand toward the old man.
The median of life flowed from her fingertips.
The man screamed as something inside him burst. His greed tore free, taking the form of a black serpent.
Lumina said nothing. She simply seized the serpent and crushed it.
The young woman tried to flee. But Lumina appeared before her like a shadow. The woman fell.
"I just wanted to live," she said.
"Not to live. You wanted others to die first."
One touch — her memories opened. She wept.
But those tears did not erase her sin.
Lumina drove her hand into the woman's chest, took a shard of her soul, held it… and released it into the sky.
"Did you purify her?" Ilior asked.
"No. I freed her."
The sky cracked. The magical world could not withstand two purifications: one by Enver, one by Lumina.
In the southern tower, the magic wardens gathered. They spoke of Lumina.
"She kills. Without trial. Without mercy — not to cleanse, but to end humans and astrals alike."
"She is no ordinary mage."
"She is more dangerous than Enver."
"She must be stopped."
Lumina sat at the edge of an old well. Her hands and robes were covered in ash.
Ilior was silent.
"I don't like this," he finally said.
"Neither do I. But if they don't see… they will keep becoming monsters. I'm not Enver. I will not forgive."
From beneath the ground, something stirred. Not spirit, not sin — but emptiness awakening.
Lumina closed her eyes.
"What I purify… begins digging a new pit."
Ilior murmured, "You're opening a gate that should stay shut."
"There is no gate. Only the limits of awareness."
From the distance, a boy called for his mother.
But what emerged from the darkness was her broken spirit — screaming, crawling, fused with shadow.
Lumina raised her hand.
Not to save it.
But to erase its existence entirely.
The boy was silent. His hair turned white. He looked at Lumina.
"Who are you?"
"I am what remains of time burned away."
That night, the sky held no stars.
The Mage Council issued a decree: Lumina was not part of the system. She was a threat.
In the sacred chamber, one council member asked,
"We cannot touch Enver. But Lumina… could she still be killed?"
No one answered.
But magic swords began to be forged.
Lumina rose again. Before her stood dozens of survivors.
Some stared with hope. Others, with hatred.
She asked, "Who wants to be freed?"
No one replied.
"Then I choose for you."
The median of life swept forward.
Not with strength — but with decision.
Half of them fell. The other half knelt.
"Your blood is not impure. But your choices have made this world a hell."
Ilior whispered, "Is this your path?"
Lumina replied, "It's not a path. It's the end of denial."
And the night closed over the city's tale — with ash, silence, and the trace of a girl who no longer searched for a place to call home.