A dark night. One where the Light in the sky reaches its apex. A child, mother, father, and a devout crowd of onlookers bask in this moment, in the Light's glory.
That is all that is required for a successful ritual. For Lucernarium.
"O Lux, quam pulcher dies! Filii tui fideles hodie ante te genua flectunt, ut alterum fidelem tibi consecrent.
Virtute Dominae Rubrae, benignitate Dominae Caeruleae, fortitudine Dominae Viridis, audacia Dominae Purpureae, et potentia Dominae Albae,
Eos custodi et in via eorum dirige!" The priest recited proudly; the beam of light that shone down on the newborn's body seemed to react, to hang on his every word.
Then finally, vanished. Gently placing the newborn back on its bedroll that's been laid out just outside the church.
An anxious older woman rushed to the baby's side, his mother no doubt. "Oh Light! Is he alright, Father?" She exclaimed, hesitating to swipe her son up into her arms.
The priest gave her a soothing smile. "Patience. Our holy Light is nothing, if not forbearing—"
VROOM!
A single, blazing beam of light shot down from the sky once more, only it was one singular color.
Red.
As the burning beam of light ceased, the crowd of onlookers gasped, then fell silent—turning to each other with nervous glances.
The mother's hands began to tremble. "N-No... That can't be right." She whispered, slowly turning to face the priest.
"F-Father! T-This isn't right! You must've done it wrong, Y-You!-"
He cut her off. "My child... The Light does not make mistakes."
The mother aggressively grabbed the priest by his robes, pulling him tightly. "NO! THIS IS MY BABY! MY SON!!"
"CASTOR CANNOT BE A RED-LIGHTER! PLEASE!"
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
"...Urgh."
Castor groaned, rubbing his head as he slowly opened his eyes and rose from a pillow.
... That damn dream again. Jeez, when is he ever going to catch a break? That same dream has been haunting him for years: his Lucernarium as a newborn.
The worst part is, he doesn't even know how true those events were. He was a damn baby, for crying out loud, and the dream never cares to specify his point of view in that moment; it's almost like he's an outsider looking in.
Castor looks around the room and does a dramatic double-take. He puts a pin in those earlier thoughts, and in a very Castor-like way, begins to quietly panic very loudly in his mind.
Where the HECK is he!?
He studied the quaint room; it wasn't like any home he had ever seen before. The interior was fitted with a sort of tanned wallpaper—the entire area would seem a bit bland if not for the single crowded desk on the far side of the room.
It was full of half-eaten candy bars, dirty plates, and books. Castor walked over and inspected the desk, also noting the large bottle of...
SNIFF.
He sniffed the top and immediately retracted his nostrils.
...The strongest bottle of whiskey on the planet?
After putting down the bottle, Castor caught the glint of steel from the corner of his eye. Curiously, he turned towards its direction—and saw something that wildly surprised him.
A sword.
Not just any random sword, it was... his?
There's no way he would ever mistake it, the tattered hilt and chipped edges of the blade. Plus, he always had this kind of... strange calling to the weapon.
But it didn't make any sense...
He didn't have his Odachi when he fell.
Did he?
Castor just shook the thoughts away and instinctively reached for the sword.
SCHING!
... And was immediately stopped dead in his tracks by the cold sensation of steel pressed against the back of his neck.
"I wouldn't try that if I were ye, pal." A voice suddenly spoke from behind him.
Castor gritted his teeth and slowly raised his hands up in surrender. Despite the situation, Castor attempted to identify his aggressor; Luni training prepared him for situations exactly like this.
... He began to sweat—remembering that he retained literally zero information from any of those classes and sort of, maybe, kind of copied off of Pollux the entire time.
Shit! Ok, just focus. What can he infer about this situation right now? The king threw him and Pollux off of Lychinus, and SOMEHOW, he's alive—but he'll deal with that insane implication later.
That must mean whoever is digging this extremely sharp object into his neck is a creature, right?
Their voice also sounded higher-pitched and feminine in nature, so he could deduce the creature was a female, though the species was a bit trickier to pinpoint.
She also rolled her 'R's' kind of weird, like in a really strange accent he had never heard before.
Castor then loses his train of thought and begins to think about how the concepts of accents are pretty funny.
Hehe.
"URGK!" Castor yelped as she pressed the steel deeper into his neck, snapping him back into the moment. "Ye' think I'm jokin', eh?" She growled, her voice growing sharper.
She gripped his shoulder aggressively. Castor couldn't explain it, but it felt like sharp claws were digging into his deltoid.
"Turn around, and don't try anything funny."
Castor gulped and kept his hands raised high above his shoulders. "H-Hey, Y- You got it! I'm just gonna slowly turn my body, and then we can all just take a deep breath—"
Castor suddenly slipped her hold and lunged for his Odachi!
CLANG!
He got to it just in time, spinning his body around to clash with her dagger.
"Gah!? What the f—" Castor exclaimed, finally getting a clear look at her appearance,
And it wasn't what he was expecting at all.
Average height, no more than 5'7. Scaly red skin, sharp teeth, and a scaled draconic snout. A Dragonborn, and she didn't exactly seem happy.
Her outfit was that of a rogue. A charcoal-colored tunic, reinforced with plating across her chest and stomach, her hood hung loose behind her back, revealing her face and snout. She wore trousers that hugged her hind legs and cut off just short of her large feet and daunting giant claws. There were all sorts of knives and daggers strapped across her body. She almost looked like an extremely advanced version of a kobold.
Despite her intimidating appearance at first glance—it isn't what Castor noticed initially.
It was her eyes. He had never seen a real Dragonborn this close, but he wasn't prepared for how expressive they were.
There was something in them.
Something...
...Sad.
The Dragonborn used Castor's hesitation against him, sweeping his legs and sending him tumbling down to the hardwood floor of the practically empty room.
Before he even had any time to wince, she quickly pinned him to the floor using just one foot. Castor could barely breathe; her foot was gigantic! He would've at least tried to move, if not for the three razor-sharp claws that were attached to said foot that were dangerously close to his sternum.
She leaned down and peered at him menacingly—right in his face. Impressively, she was flexible enough to keep her weight on top of him at the same time.
She scrunched her face and whispered.
"Who. Are. You?"
Castor struggled to choke out a sentence. "URGK! Y-You know... I'd love to TELL you. But you k-kind of have your foot on my neck! - HRGK!"
She pressed down harder. "And how did ye' find out where I live!? Bellator recrutin' humans to spy for 'em now? Talk!"
Castor did his best to resist, attempting to push her foot off, but her strength was nothing like he'd ever experienced. He finally managed to choke out two words.
"A-Aetheron Ly...chinus...!"
...
"What?"
Slowly, she raised her leg off of Castor's chest, then took a step back.
Castor took a deep gasp for air, the breath returning to his lungs in long, slow bursts.
As he regained his composure, he bolted up to his feet, watching the Dragonborn like a hawk—who returned his gaze with a bewildered look of her own.
He broke eye contact with her to glance down at his clothes, a giant black lizard-like footprint faintly visible across his collar.
"Ah! Dude, what the hell!?" Castor groaned, hunching over and vigorously swiping at the footprint. "This is a white suit! You can't just be stepping on it and shit..."
"Aetheron... Lychinus? He sent ye'?" She said warily. "...Why?"
Castor scoffed. "Yeah. 'Sent' isn't really the word I'd use. More like threw us off the damn kingdom."
"What? Ye' expect me to believe you survived a fall from that high?" The Dragonborn crossed her arms.
Those words suddenly reminded Castor of a more pressing issue. He stopped absentmindedly rubbing off the dirt spot and turned to look at the Dragonborn, with a heavy shift in demeanor.
"There was another boy. A human, who fell down here with me. Please, I need to find him." Castor glanced around desperately, hoping for any small sign Pollux may have been here.
"Eh?" She responded. "Ye' nearly crashed through my roof! Believe me, I would've known if there were another boy here."
Castor sighed under his breath; he knew it wasn't likely they'd land together, but it was still worth an ask.
"Uh-huh..." Castor turned and spotted a window; he peered out to gauge his surroundings, but he was only left with more questions.
Outside was empty, save for all the tall trees and shimmering lake. He'd heard about something like this before in class, a forest.
"...And where is 'here,' exactly?"
The Dragonborn cocked up her snout at him, then walked over to the area he was resting, proceeding to pick up the pillow and blanket that were laid out. "Hah! Like I'd tell that to some human! I already know how yer' kind operates."
Castor watched her and tilted his head. What does she mean by that? She has something against humans?
"Well..." Castor traced the wooden desk with his finger—until his hand stopped shy of yet another empty bottle of alcohol; he picked it up and studied it. "You saved me though, right? So, you can't think I'm really ALL that bad?
She groaned. "I just wanted you OFF my roof."
Castor was then startled as the Dragonborn snatched the empty bottle out of his hand.
He crossed his arms and watched her walk off into another room; after peeking over the wall, he realized it was a kitchen. He followed her into it shortly after.
"So... Is this like the part where you eat me and then regurgitate my body to feed your young? 'Cause, uh... I don't think you'd like me; I'm pretty chewy." Castor said.
The Dragonborn jerked back, like she was utterly astonished by what she just heard. "Eat ye'!? W-Why?"
Castor raised an eyebrow, like he was asked a trick question. "Um. Because you're a dragon...?"
She scoffed. "I am NOT a damn dragon! I'm a Skal!"
Castor took a seat on the stool by the countertop that led to the sink. "Pfft. Okay? How was I supposed to know that? I've never seen a dragon." He said as he spun himself around on the stool.
The Dragonborn watched him in awe and seemed to be having a hard time wrapping her head around his stupidity. "Usually, a dragon walks around on all fours and isn't bipedal!" She exclaimed.
Castor met her annoyed gaze and began to rub his chin inquisitively. "Hmm. So they say..."
She decided not to respond to that.
After a while, Castor's eyes glanced down at the countertop; on the far side of it was a small, strange-looking device. It seemed to be a watch of some kind, or... maybe it wasn't?
It was bulky, like an unfinished science project; it also had a pointed tip protruding from the wrist part of it. It couldn't be a watch; who would stick themselves with a needle just to tell the time?
He reached over and picked it up, studying its details. "So, what's your name? I've never met a creature before. Aw, I bet it's something really cool and dragon-like! Like, uh... Toothless! No, that's stupid..."
The Dragonborn groaned in annoyance as she threw the empty bottle in the sink across from Castor.
"My name's Castor, but it's probably a lame-sounding name compared to yours—"
He's cut off by the Dragonborn dropping the pillow and blanket on the floor suddenly—angrily marching over to Castor, pointing her sharp finger in his face. "LOOK, human. You and I are NOT friends. What YOU are is trouble.
I picked this quiet cabin in the middle of nowhere to avoid things like this showing up at my doorstep!
But like it was Gaasyendietha's will herself, it always seems to find ME!
So when yer' good and damn healed, you're going to LEAVE and act like I don't exist and ye' never met me!
And we'll go our separate ways, and never speak to each other again, ye' got it?"
Castor rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. I 'goh ait'." He mocked.
After she gave him one last menacing stare and walked off, Castor examined the device even closer, noticing a tag inscribed on the label. "...Drashira Gravrynn?"
Drashira stopped in her tracks and blinked a few times—before whipping her head back in his direction. "W-Wha!?"
She dramatically lunged at Castor, practically tackling the strange device out of his hand.
Castor put up little to no resistance; he was slightly amused by the quick change in her demeanor—leaning back on the countertop as he watched her fumble with the device, turning away from him in a pathetic attempt to hide it under her body.
She turned back to look at him, obviously flustered. "A-Are ye' some kind of idiot!?"
Castor scoffed, as if she had said something laughable. "Idiot? Pfft. Yeah, right. I don't mean to brag, but all of my teachers always liked to say I was a little special." He remarked confidently.
Drashira rolled her eyes. "This is NOT a toy! And ye' better forget that name!"
BANG!
...Castor and Drashira both froze immediately; it sounded as if something crashed into the cabin.
...
KNOCK! KNOCK!
Now it wasn't just a random sound; someone was at the front door.
Castor hesitantly turned in the direction of the door. "Uh... Are you expecting some-"
Drashira hastily slapped her hand over his mouth and didn't even give him a second glance before she became laser-focused on her surroundings.
And for a moment...
The room fell silent.
...
CRASH!
Two figures suddenly came crashing through the kitchen windows!
They both lunged from opposite windows, forcing Drashira and Castor to split up to meet their attacker's blades.
Drashira pulled the 12-inch dagger that sat on her hip out of its holster, lunging forward at her attacker. She wasn't able to identify who it was in time—she just did what she knew best.
Went in for the kill.
SCHING!
... Drashira was surprised when she didn't feel her blade glide across flesh or any other kind of skin—her dagger met steel.
But when she finally glanced up and got to study her assailant,
Her heart dropped. The person that was staring back at her was a Skal, and she smiled at Drashira madly—overwhelming her with a dagger of her own.
In that same instant, Castor was forced to fend off the other attacker.
The attacker's form and build seemed to be that of a male, or at least a male from a human-adjacent species. His build also appeared very athletic.
Castor only had a split second to study him, though, before the man came barreling towards him—wielding an uchigatana.
Damn! He doesn't have a weapon! At least, not in arm's reach.
He didn't have time to think; he threw his right arm in front of his face, closed his eyes, and braced for impact!
SCHING!
... He opened his eyes, and yellow sparks flew out in front of him. The clashing of steel.
He couldn't believe it, but... His odachi was in his hand!
How!? He didn't even think to bring it with him before he fell, then it somehow ended up in the room he woke up in.
Now it's right here in front of him!?
...
... Castor smiled; he doesn't really give a shit where it came from.
His blood was boiling.
Now, he can even the playing field.
WOOSH!
With a wide, wild swing of his odachi, he conjured up a force so intense, the pressure of the blade cutting through the air seemed to surprise his attacker, the man flipping backwards nimbly, creating a wide amount of space between them.
Castor growled through his grin, a red aura beginning to faintly envelope his entire body.
Without a second thought, he blasted off at a blinding speed, becoming nothing but a red blur in front of his opponent's eyes.
Unknowingly to the man, Castor was already right behind him.
And he wasn't wasting this opportunity.
SLASH!
Castor brought down his Odachi on the man's shoulder with thunderous force; he felt his attacker's flesh, blood, and bone ripple throughout the steel of his blade as he cut down harder, deeper.
He also felt... rubber?
No, that's not right. It feels like something soft.
Ice cream? No, that's even more stupid.
Wait...
Castor glanced down at his weapon... and it was being absorbed! By the man's body!?
"Ew! What the f—" Castor released his hold on the weapon and watched as it was slowly absorbed into the man's shoulder; like a stick falling into a pit of lava, it completely disappeared.
The man then quickly whipped his body around and, with surprising flexibility, drove his knee upright into Castor's chin, knocking his body into the air.
To add insult, he grabbed his suit collar while mid-air and tossed his entire body into the kitchen, knocking over various utensils and pans.
The Skal watched the brutal display with a twisted grin as she toyed with Drashira in the opposite corner.
Deciding it was her turn to have some fun, the Skal whipped her green tail into Drashira's snout—knocking her to the ground.
Looming over her one final time, before raising her dagger high into the air...
Then!
WOOSH!
... The Skal's smile immediately faded; she took a few hesitant steps back as she finally realized what she actually had stabbed.
Castor.
He activated his ARS just in time to throw his body in front of Drashira, the Skal's dagger penetrating the palm of his left hand that he threw out instinctively.
He didn't wince, and he didn't groan.
He just stared back at the Skal with an enduring expression, his eyes switching from hazel to red, like a flickering lightbulb.
Drashira had already flinched and thrown her hands up impulsively. When she opened her eyes, she saw Castor—shielding her.
... She seemed confused.
"O-Out of my way, human! This doesn't concern you!" The Skal said, gritting her sharp teeth.
"Stop, Galaria." The man said, approaching the three of them as he silently slid his sword back into the sheath on his hip. "We're just here to gauge them, to gauge him. Remember?"
Castor and Drashira could finally get a close look at who these two were.
But studying their appearances closer only invited dread into their bodies.
They both recognized their clothing.
Red and black full-body suits, each intricate and woven to fit their specific builds.
What struck the most fear was the symbol carved into the middle of their uniforms.
A bold black emblem with a broad double-edged sword rising in the center, encircled by a perfect ring, and flanked on both sides by two curved blades crossing at the base.
The symbol of Bellator Luminus.
As Castor inspected the man closer, it became more apparent he wasn't actually a 'man' but instead, a dark elf.
His pigmentation and pointed ears were a dead giveaway.
Galaria crossed her arms and shook her head—closing her eyes as she began to laugh. "Oh, this is just TOO perfect. First you run from the humans, and now you're harboring one? You should've seen the look on my face when we found out. You're still nothing but an embarrassment to my people."
Drashira looked as if she wanted to respond, like she was going to. But ultimately, her voice fell back into her throat as nothing more than a low growl.
"Please excuse us for the intrusion. You must understand, we came here on direct orders." The elf said calmly, hand still resting on the hilt of his sheathed blade.
Castor chuckled. "Oh yeah? I think you just finally realized you messed up and can't win without the element of surprise." He stood up straight finally and cockily pointed at the elf with his injured hand, the knife still protruding out of his palm. "Sorry, but I'm gonna need that rematch. Can't be having dudes who look better than me kick my ass."
The dark elf did not react; he just continued. "I think you'll want to listen to me first. Our leader would like to speak with you. Also,
We have your friend."
Castor lowered his hand and furrowed his eyebrows.
"...Pollux?"