Grand Luminarc's Pov:
Darkness.
That was how it began.
No sound. No warmth. Only a black sky, torn by flickers of violet flame. The Grand Luminarch stood alone in a vast wasteland, ash swirling at his feet. The world was dying. Stone temples had crumbled. Church spires lay broken in the dust. And ahead of him, a marble altar split clean down the middle, cracked like dry bone.
The Luminarch raised his gaze.
A golden figure stood beyond the ruins, cloaked in veils of light, a woman with her back turned. She walked barefoot across the cracked earth, robes stained with ash and gold. A faint silver chain, broken at the center, trailed from her wrist like a shackle once snapped.
His lips parted. "The Saintess…"
A burning wind howled through the empty land, and the voice of heaven boomed like thunder...
distorted, yet clear.
"She left… because of your chains."
The ground trembled.
Black vines burst from the soil, writhing like serpents, swallowing the churches, choking the sky. From the dark horizon, shadows with hollow faces marched forward, kings with no crowns, priests with no eyes, warriors with no hearts. They trampled over what remained of the holy land.
And the Saintess? She didn't turn back.
She walked away from the altar, toward a forest of mist beyond the ruins.
The High Luminarch reached out. "No!... please!... come back!... The world will fall!"
Then came light.
A blinding, golden brilliance shattered the sky.
Not from above.
But from below, from the earth beneath her steps.
The Saintess knelt in a field of dying flowers and placed her hands upon the ground. A pulse of white spread outward. Sickly trees bloomed. The air turned gold. The shadows screamed and recoiled.
She raised her palm to the sky.
The clouds split.
Rays of divine light rained down, not from heaven — but through it, as though something higher than heaven itself responded. Every dying soul touched by the light stood again. The land was healed. The cursed were freed. The dead were at peace.
And the Luminarch saw her face at last, not the Saintess he once knew.
But a new one.
Younger. Untouched by ritual. Veiled in simplicity.
A healer.
Her eyes were steady. Not afraid. Not angry.
Free.
Then, the light turned to white.
And a voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"The Saintess is gone. Because of your selfishness. Find the envoy. Stand with her. Don't repeat your sin."
The light burst, blinding.
And the Luminarch awoke.
---
Rain tapped against the tall glass windows.
The High Luminarch sat upright in the candle-lit chamber, breath uneven. A prayer scroll slipped from his lap. He looked east, toward the mountains.
"Envoy of heaven…"
His hands trembled.
Then stilled.
---
Later, in the Temple of Gods—
He sat in silence, lost in thought. His inner voice echoed:
That dream. Too vivid. Just like the others...
Visions he'd once buried. Prophecies that had always come true.
Am I to choose a new Saintess?
He recalled the Church's top candidate. Gifted. Strong holy affinity. But no divine resonance. Not even close to what he saw.
That girl in the dream? She wasn't like the others. She wasn't trained. She wasn't known.
She was free.
He stood before his gathered Luminarchs. Candlelight flickered across their solemn faces.
"None of the candidates match her," he said firmly. "Her power came from beyond the heavens. This wasn't symbolic. This was divine."
The Luminarchs exchanged glances. One spoke gently, "Perhaps a metaphor, Your Eminence?"
Another added, "Or your devotion... shaping your dreams."
But their eyes betrayed them. Doubt. Denial. Jealousy.
The Grand Luminarch clenched his jaw.
"Do not lie to yourselves. Or to me."
Silence.
One Luminarch bowed. "We are sorry. We follow you, as always."
He turned away. Their faith shook him.
Not because they disbelieved.
But because they feared the truth.
He walked the halls of the temple alone, robes trailing. Every candle seemed dimmer.
He collapsed in the sanctuary, resting at last.
Then—
"Head Cleric!" A priest burst in, panting. "A miracle! In Cindres! Eyewitnesses say light broke through the sky! A child was healed!"
The Luminarch stood, thunderstruck.
"Summon the carriages. All of them. Ready the Paladins. Gather the others!"
He gripped the edge of the altar.
"The prophecy... she's here. The Saintess has arrived."
---
Days later...
Mrs. Kirn hummed in her home, her daughter playing nearby. Peaceful. Bright.
A knock.
She opened the door.
And there he stood.
Clad in white, trimmed in gold. The High Luminarch.
The man untouchable by common folk.
On her doorstep.
---
> To be continued...