An executioner stepped forward, voice amplified by runic resonance.
"Citizens of Sunspire," he declared, "Elrin Therion stands condemned. By decision of the Magistrate Court, by witness and confession, he is found guilty of treachery, of patricide, of the murder of his own blood."
The words rang across the plaza like iron striking stone.
"I should have never trusted someone like you."
"I should have never trusted someone like you."
"I should have never trusted someone like you."
—
I woke up screaming.
"No—! I didn't mean that!"
My voice shattered the stillness of the room, hoarse and raw, clawing its way out of my chest as if it had been trapped there all night. My body jerked upright, breath tearing in and out of my lungs too fast, too shallow.
Darkness greeted me.
The ceiling above my bed stared back—plain, unmoving, uncaring.
Moonlight slipped through the narrow window, pale and cold, cutting across the wooden beams overhead. For a moment, I couldn't tell where I was. The echo of the execution square still rang in my ears. The smell of incense and blood clung to my senses like it had just happened.
My left eye burned.
I reached up instinctively, fingers trembling as they brushed against wet skin.
Tears.
It had been almost a year.
Almost a year since that day.
And still—it never left.
The nightmare came back the same way every time. Not the chains. Not the accusations. Not even the dungeon mouth yawning open beneath the platform.
It was always that moment.
"Lyra, we heard you are friends with a criminal. You disgust us."
I remembered the pressure—hands on my shoulders, voices hissing into my ears, eyes burning holes through me. The Magistrate's gaze. The crowd's hunger for certainty. The terror of being next.
I remembered how my mouth moved faster than my heart.
How fear won.
"I should have never trusted someone like you."
How my voice broke him.
I pressed my palm over my mouth, forcing myself to breathe quietly.
"I didn't mean it," I whispered to the empty room. "I swear… I didn't."
But apologies spoken to ghosts never reached the living.
—
Morning came without mercy.
The bells of Sunspire rang from the high towers, their sound clean and ceremonial—too clean for a city rotting from within. I dressed mechanically, muscles moving through routine while my thoughts lagged behind, heavy and dull.
Cadet uniform.
Pressed. Proper. Blue trimmed with silver.
I tied my hair back, fingers steady despite the ache lingering behind my eyes. As I reached for the door, I paused.
Something felt wrong.
I turned back.
On the table near my bed lay my nameplate.
I had forgotten it.
For a moment, I just stared.
Then I picked it up and fastened it to my uniform, stepping toward the mirror instinctively.
Lyra Penciv.
The name looked strange some days—too small, too fragile for the weight it carried now.
I met my own reflection.
Tired eyes.
Straight posture.
A city's quiet guilt staring back at me.
"Elrin…" I murmured under my breath.
—
Sunspire had not healed.
It pretended.
The spires still gleamed in the morning light, their Axiom-reinforced stone unmarred by time. The streets bustled with trade. Markets shouted prices. Carriages rolled as if nothing had ever broken.
But beneath it—
Everything was wrong.
After the execution, House Therion did not simply fall into disarray.
It dragged the city with it.
Therion had been the pillar that held Sunspire upright—its military funding, its Blight expeditions, its coordination with Bastion routes. When Lord Caelen Therion died and his heir was cast into the depths as a traitor, the structure collapsed inward.
Budgets were cut.
Expeditions delayed.
Entire patrol routes vanished overnight.
The Blight crept closer while noble houses argued over prestige.
At first, Duke Emeritus Aldric Therion returned to stabilize the house—the old ruler, gray-haired and stern, stepping back into power like a relic summoned from necessity.
For a brief moment, people hoped.
But hope did not last.
The council fractured.
Houses maneuvered.
Assassinations rose quietly.
And then—
Two months after Elrin's execution—
House Therion announced a permanent succession.
Only one candidate remained.
Lord Marius Therion.
The coronation was broadcast across Sunspire—runic projection towers illuminating the sky, displaying the grand hall for all to see. I stood among the crowd that night, surrounded by cheers that felt forced, hollow.
Then—
The city shook.
Axiom screamed.
The air vibrated so violently I fell to my knees.
A colossal magic circle erupted from the city's depths, rising skyward like a judgment carved into reality itself. Light followed—brilliant, blinding—forming a beacon that pierced the clouds.
It came from the dungeon.
That dungeon.
The one that had swallowed Elrin whole.
People screamed.
People prayed.
And I—
I cried.
Because as the city stared in awe and terror, all I could see was him—standing at the mouth of the abyss, chains rattling, eyes wide with betrayal.
Alive?
Dead?
I didn't know.
But the guilt nearly crushed me.
After that night, the dungeon vanished.
Collapsed.
Erased.
And ever since that night...
Lord Marius was always there.
"Search every nook and cranny!"
"Yes, sir!"
Soldiers combed ruins, patrols doubled, surveillance tightened. They weren't looking for artifacts. They were looking for someone.
And everyone knew it.
Sunspire's politics grew uglier. Greed stank openly now. The Magistrate turned blind eyes. The people whispered. Trust eroded.
Something was deeply, irreparably wrong.
—
That night, I sat at the table with Mama and Papa.
The house was quiet—too quiet.
"I will be joining the Sunspire Military," I said.
Their reactions were immediate.
"What?" Mama whispered.
Papa frowned. "Lyra… what's gotten into you?"
"I need to see what I can do," I said softly.
Then my voice broke.
"Elrin and I promised," I said, tears spilling freely now. "We promised we wouldn't let the city decide who we were. I broke that promise. I was afraid."
I clenched my fists.
"But I won't be afraid again."
Silence.
Then arms wrapped around me.
"We trust you," Papa said quietly.
Mama kissed my hair. "Come back alive."
—
Now—
I was a cadet of the Sunspire Academy.
Marching grounds replaced childhood streets. Discipline replaced comfort. Every bruise felt earned.
I trained harder than most.
I studied ranks. Command structures. Supply routes. Political histories.
Because power was not just strength.
It was access.
Months from now, when I graduated, I would enter the Sunspire Army.
And one day—
I would stand high enough to see the truth clearly.
"Elrin," I whispered beneath the open sky. "I trust you."
The sky hung above Sunspire—warm, distant.
Somewhere far away, beneath another roof, another sky—
I believed he was looking at it too.
And this time—
I would not turn away.