Sermon from the Church of Lumin:

Take heed and obey! The power of our Great Goddess Selene has been sown among us, granting us, her children, blessings so that those she has gifted may protect us and keep us from the clutches of the Damned One’s Servants. It is only right that in answer to this, they should possess an exalted position amongst our own, as they are heroes of no compare!

The moonlight shone down upon the verdant hilltop, illuminating the surrounding area with an entrancing light. Sevrath watched the distant moon with a sort of reverence that, strangely enough, didn’t seem out of place in this environment.

In fact, the moonlight on this particular night possessed an inherent magical quality that seemed to overshadow all else in the world. A wondrous world of night, which, in any other circumstances, would have seemed to be filled with countless horrors hiding among the shadowy pathways instead became a sight of beauty and magnificence as the full moon appeared to continuously send out its rays in pulsing waves, highlighting the night sky with its luminescent aurora.

Though the moon when full had always been a distinct symbol of awe for the people of Dolunay, as it was the source of power for those blessed with the magic gifted to mankind by the Goddess of Creation, Selene, for Sevrath it had at some time unknown to him veered away from its previous state as a monolithic, godlike presence. Now, it seemed to radiate a sense of belonging and familiarity that would normally have been reserved for family members. And yet, it somehow did not seem curious to him that he would feel like this, that he would have some sort of intangible connection to this ineffable source of power which, even now, seemed to rejuvenate everything its light fell upon.

A twig snapped nearby. Dazed out of his reverie, Sevrath turned around languidly, seeming to sense that, on this night of all nights, no enemy could approach him under the watchful eye of the midnight sentinel in the sky.

Before him a finely tailored girl with long, glossy chestnut brown hair which seemed to be perpetually bound in a messy tail slowly approached him with smooth, leisurely movements. Her unkempt hair and dirt-shrouded appearance appeared to belie what lay underneath; the young scion of a noble family. Yet even if she were not wearing clothes that seemed of far higher quality than those of other townsfolk, it would still be impossible for one to label her as a commoner, as she was far from common. Even in her bedraggled, dirt strewn state, it is impossible to not notice the palpable aura which seemed to radiate off of her at all times, a creation of general magnetism and a natural beauty that only seemed to become more noticeable in her current state, for even if one attempted to do so, it would be impossible to prevent the small glimpses of fair skin and mischievous eyes which would cause anyone to attempt to peer at her in admiration that would only grow as she aged further.

Sitting down with a thump, the girl looked at him with an adorable pouting expression. “Sevrath, what are you doing outside here so late at night? You know that your mother gets frantic when you do not return home when it becomes dark, what if you fell into danger?” She said maturely, pointedly ignoring the fact that she herself was guilty of the same crime.

Glancing aside briefly before continuing to gaze longingly at the mysterious moon far above, he had to suppress the urge to snort at the supposition that he would run into trouble on a night like this. Looking askance, he asked in a mock-dejected tone, “Who are you and where did my cute friend who would call me Sev and force me to join in her adventures when I was little disappear to?” while slowly dragging his finger across the ground, appearing to be suffering from extreme loneliness.

“She just turned twelve!” She answered haughtily, spreading her arms in a grandiose fashion, exceedingly proud that she had finally reached one of the most important ages in a person’s life, a time that could forever alter the course of their life depending on their natural affinity. For, the age of twelve is the when those who have the potential to become one of the powerful Luminescents, those with the power to manipulate Lumin, are awakened to their pre-nascent abilities.

“Congratulations Katrine, you have managed to accomplish something which, if my guess is correct, anyone who is older than you has done before!” Sevrath exclaimed wryly, with a twitch of his nose.

Katrine just looked at him with a stern expression for a few moments, causing him to start to feel a bit guilty for stomping on her exuberance. Her glare did not last in the face of her giddiness though, as she quickly once again broke out into an uncontrollable grin.

“Ah, this is true,” Katrine remarked sagely, nodding her head knowingly as a sparkle a mischief coalesced in her electric blue eyes. “Oh, woe is me, for I have merely followed in the footsteps of our great leader, Sevrath the Aged!” she cried out mischievously, throwing her hands up in the air in a false display of praise. As her hands reached its zenith, the aurora which was raining down upon the two suddenly began to sway gently in answer, swirling around her upraised arms in accordance to her will.

Sevrath merely stared in shock at the scene, unable to accept what he was seeing before him. Suddenly, his childhood friend had all at once become a potentially powerful existence in the world, something all children in the world yearned for when reaching their twelfth birthday, with him having not been an exception. Katrine had become a Luminescent, a wielder of Lumin, a weaver of moonlight.

This awe-inducing display of magnificent power was quickly squashed, however, as Katrine began to giggle happily and dance around in triumph, demonstrating that, despite everything, she is still who she has always been; a twelve year-old girl.

Feeling no small amount of envy, Sevrath still found it in his heart to be happy for his friend’s talent before taking the chance to excuse himself to head home, as it was actually quite late. Heading in a direction opposite from Katrine, he began to dash through the grassy terrain as if running from his feelings of jealousy.

All too soon, he arrived at the door of his family’s home at the outskirts of the town, bordering the woods. He charged through the door and yelled out to his mother that he was back in order to stop her worrying. Suddenly feeling quite tired, he shut the door to his room and dropped down on his bed, head filled with youthful imaginings of saving princesses, single-handedly defeating evil armies, and, perhaps most fervently of all, of wielding the essence of the world in his hands, creating wondrous miracles throughout the world as a Luminescent, just like the heroes in stories.

The flames of war rose and men fell in answer. Men and women wearing determined expressions stood resolute within the battered fortress walls, awaiting their eventual demise at the hands of the army banging at their gates, welcoming the hard-won freedom signified with each echo of the unceasing siege engines across the canyon walls. Despite the calling of death and worse at their doorstep, they did not fear, for they had long been living corpses, living and dying by the whims of others. Now however, things had changed. They may die today, but so be it, for it was of their own choosing.

Deep within the recesses of the besieged fortress, a hasty contingent was formed of those unsuited or too sickly for warfare. Yet even among these few, a great purpose could be seen within their every step as they left through the tunnels deep beneath the ground in hopes of finding aid, wherever it may be found.

Among these a woman could be seen holding a keris rife with rust. With an air of satisfaction, the weapon began to glow briefly underneath her fingertips, revealing strange and archaic runes. Smiling, she looked down dotingly at her stomach where her unborn baby stirred.

“Shh,” she whispered quietly, “Mother will protect you.”

Sevrath woke with a start to a cacophony of noise announcing the dawn of a particularly irritating day. Groaning in annoyance, he gave up on resuming the blissful state that is slumber after a few tosses and turns and dragged his feet clumsily across the worn oak floorboards, each squealing painfully in response to his trudging footsteps. Crossing the threshold of his room, his mood considerably brightened as the tantalizing aroma of morning breakfast drifted through the house, revitalizing his every step. Dashing into the kitchen at a speed which seemed to belie his earlier sluggishness, Sevrath was greeted by his mother’s figure.

“Why is there so much noise outside?” He asked curiously as he began to scarf down his breakfast.

“The Lord of Carthal decided to have a holiday celebrating his daughter’s ascension as a Luminescent, so preparations are being made.” his mother said jubilantly, excited for the upcoming festivities.

“I’m sure he was quite ecstatic to have an excuse to send Katrine away,” Sevrath said scornfully, knowing full well how little true interaction there was between her and her father. Her mother had been said to be an unmatched beauty who was deeply loved by the Lord; however, she died giving birth to Katrine. Because of this, Katrine’s father only saw her as the murderer of his wife, the likely end of his lineage as she could not inherit, and, due to her likeness to his deceased wife, a stark reminder of what he has lost. It was due to this fact that Katrine had taken to escaping the suffocating manor and adventuring out into the forest and the surrounding hills, leading to her fated meeting with Sevrath. Since then, they had become inseparable, with her escaping the confines of her gilded cage with every opportunity, an action that was not prevented by her father despite the differences in their respective social statuses, since this would mean she would be out of his sight and mind. He even suspected that would it not damage his house’s reputation, her father would gladly disown her for the sin of living.

-\o/-

Running through the forest on swift, silent feet that seemed to obscure all signs of passing, Sevrath stalked his prey. Since he lived next to the forest, his father had taken it upon himself to teach him woodcraft from an early age, drawing from the knowledge he had gained from his previous experience as a scout in the Imperial Army. Skills, from walking stealthily so as not to alert prey, to tracking through the signs of the forest, to marksmanship had all become second nature to Sevrath over time, as he grew more and more adept at traversing the woods. Even in times when he was not hunting for food, he could often be found wandering the forest, be it day or night, enchanted by wondrous imaginings as he ran across the ground and flew over the treetops. Today, as with many days before, he found himself running in the direction of the behemoth of the forest, an ancient fir with a size far surpassing its kin, with gnarled tree roots diving in and out of the ground like a pod of dolphins. With a size dwarfing its surroundings, it seemed to be a watchful mother, gazing upon her children from upon high. Entering the clearing, he couldn’t help but have a sense of reverence for this mother of life, as birds trilled in numbers high in its branches, squirrels scampered on quick feet in play, foxes burrowed deep beneath its roots, and deer frolicked amid the leaf-strewn land.

Startled by his sudden appearance, the wildlife froze momentarily before resuming their antics, unguarded despite his nearness. For Sevrath, this had been an event that had been occurring since early childhood, with creatures, even those with greater predatory instincts, not being frightened or aggressive unless provoked by him. Ironically enough, this very fact is what ended most of his hunts in failures, as he could often not bring himself to kill his prey when they didn’t react in a negative manner to his presence. He felt grateful to be accorded this sense of companionship in a world where his only real companion was Katrine, but he couldn’t help but feel bitter about this, as it was just one more thing that set him apart from those he knew.

While most people within the Arcelian Empire possessed light skin tones with hair color tending to range from brown to blonde and eyes of typically bright colors, Sevrath had a naturally tan pigmentation. This alone did not set him apart greatly, as many others possessed this skin tone due to sun exposure. What showed him as obviously different was his black hair and gunmetal gray eyes. This, combined with his unknown parentage and being found at the edge of the Desolate Lands as an infant, a land where few can survive long due to constant turbulent storms and countless mysteries, caused many of the townsfolk to view him with superstition and disdain, a trait which was passed on to the younger generation. It was due to this that his only friend in Carthal was Katrine. It was also due to this friendship that his intellectual capacity and general musings were often more refined than most of his peers, as she would frequently force him to suffer with him whenever her tutors would manage to force her to study.

Resigning himself to the fact that he would once again fail to succeed in his hunt, he left the forest animals be and began to wander as he often did when stuck in his thoughts. After an unknown amount of time passed, Sevrath finally was startled out of his imaginings when struck by a fearsome sight. The trees of the forest seemed to thin out, as an aura of death seemed to exude from the surroundings, with dead and dying oaks stretching their limbs out in despair towards their companions. Beyond the rise could be seen a strange land, regarded with fear by the townsfolk. Constantly assailed by terrifying storms, shrieking winds which incited fear in any who heard, and fearsome howls elicited from the throats of what could only be demons, it was no surprise it was viewed as such. Multiple forays had been sent into this dying land over the centuries, and all that had been gleaned about its mysteries was that it was vast, strange, and brutal. Many adventurous folk who dared the dangers of this land found themselves succumbing to their final sleep, never to be seen again. Despite this, Sevrath could not help but feel a sense of curiosity and longing when looking out to the Desolate Lands. He could not help but wonder. Somewhere, out there in the depths of that dying land, might there be a people of his own?

Sighing morosely, he turned his back on his homeland and began his journey back home, hopefully in time for the upcoming festival.

-\o/-

His head swiveled back and forth as he stared in wonder at the transformation the town had gone through for the festival. Jubilant expressions could be seen on many of the townspeople, as such celebrations were not that common and it was a good way to break up the monotony of average everyday life. As wonderful as the festivities were, Sevrath was a little disappointed since Katrine was not present, despite it supposedly being a celebration for her. More importantly to him, though admittedly selfish, was that because of that he had nobody to accompany him other than his parents.

Feeling the same twinge of embarrassment every boy feels when with their parents rather than friends, Sevrath left them to continue perusing the merchants stalls while he himself went wandering about. Smelling the sweet smell of candied apple, he gave into the temptation and paid the vendor his remaining coppers and moved on content. Absorbed in his new snack, he found himself walking without direction, paying little attention to his surroundings. Relishing the sweet taste of caramel meshed with the juicy satisfaction of apple, he rounded a corner, slamming into a fleshy wall. Stumbling backwards, he lost his grip on his prize and slid into the mud-caked cobbles.

“What dah ya think yer doin’!” the other boy yelled out indignantly before Sevrath had the chance to properly apologize. Grimacing at what was to come, he could only bite down on his lip to keep from showing his anger on his face.

“Oh it’s da demon,” the older boy snorted derisively, “why don’tcha go back to the Desolate Lands? Maybe ye ken find yer parents out ther, wailin’ at the sky.”

Glaring angrily at the boy, Sevrath tried to stay composed at the implication that his family were not even human. While Sevrath was thin and wiry due to most of his exercising consisting of playing within the forest, Kyle was the son of the town blacksmith, and it showed. At fourteen, he was already quite muscular and was prone to proving his superiority to those he disliked.

Perceiving his submissiveness as fear, Kyle relished the taste and decided to take it one step further as a cruel smile lighted his face. “I reckon since someone already did the rest of us good folk a faver by puttin’ down that demon mother o’ yers, I-” he began to say, but was interrupted when the still figure suddenly stiffened before angrily slamming his shoulders into Kyle’s stomach, taking him by surprise.

Sevrath knew that trying to contend with a boy far stronger than him would only end in his loss, but he could not help himself as he surrendered to his rage. Falling down after the boy he tackled, he weakly punched at the boy’s face a couple of times, but was stopped when the muscular boy began to recover. The tables turned abruptly, as the shock wore off and the older boy began to demonstrate his superiority. Sevrath could only hope to block as much as possible, covering his stomach and face as he tried to escape the boy pinning him down. His vision began to blur as he lost strength with each successive blow, until finally he succumbed to sleep.

Weakly, he opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a moonless night sky, pain which encompassed his whole body, and a deep, dull ache in the depths of his heart. He could not help but lament his weakness and that of his birth parents. Perhaps if he was stronger, the townspeople would not dare ridicule him for being different. Perhaps if they were stronger his parents would not have died, leaving him alone in a world in which he is a stranger. He was pulled from his melancholic broodings by the soft sound of familiar voices in the distance.

“sevrath! Sevrath! SEVRATH!” A despairing voice called out to the night, growing louder and more despairing with each successive cry. He responded by weakly coughing, finding it difficult to even speak, let alone shout back. Apparently his feeble pleas were heard, as he soon could see a pair of well worn leather boots rushing towards him. Sevrath’s consciousness began to waver once more as he saw a pair of concerned blue orbs staring down at him from above. Rugged hands grasped his feeble body, walking steadily away from the blood-coated scene.

Sevrath groaned as his consciousness returned, bringing with it a fierce headache and many stinging pains. Looking to the side of the bed he was laying on, he found himself in his bedroom. His family must have found him on the roadside. He could not help but feel a sense of helplessness at the thought that he was seen in such a wretched state. The floorboards groaned as heavy booted feet entered the room. Glancing towards the doorway, Sevrath could see his father, a man with a powerful figure built from years of battle. He could not help but be embarrassed at his failure when looking at him. Even if he was not his true father, it still hurt to be seen to be weak by one he looked up to. While his father’s face was masked with anger, a hint of tenderness and worry could be spotted underneath.

Looking at Sevrath sternly, he growled out in his low baritone, “Are you going to explain why I found you in such a state? It seems you picked a fight with someone.” Sevrath looked down, too fearful that he might notice disappointment in his father’s eyes. His fists began to clench in remembered anger and a surge of self-loathing began to erupt within him as his chin began to tremble fiercely. Tears began to well in his eyes as he answered.

“I accidentally ran into Kyle during the festival,” he began to speak, his eyes clouding with righteous anger, “He started saying things about my birth parents. I tried to stay calm, but I couldn’t help myself. So I hit him.” Sevrath refused to look at his father throughout his recounting of the events, shamed by his lack of control and even more ashamed of his inability.

Silence lingered for a moment after he finished speaking. Curious as to why his father had nothing to say, he finally rose his head to look at him. His father seemed to be deep in thought, as his eyes had taken on a hazy look. Suddenly, he stood up and walked out of the room without a word. Sevrath could only sit there silently, waiting for whatever might come.

“Would you like to learn how to fight?” He suddenly heard, causing him to startle. He did not understand why he would offer him this chance, but Sevrath was anxious to take the opportunity, as the previous day kept repeating in his mind.

Looking at his father with an expression of both delight and confusion, he saw that he was now holding something. He seemed to notice Sevrath’s questioning eyes and began to speak.

Throughout his life Daniel had found himself drawn to the forests. It was for this reason that, on a night after getting into a spat with Anna due to her depression when it was discovered she was unable to conceive, he ended up escaping into the darkness to wander and think. Roaming through the woods on silent feet, he found himself near the edge of the forest, where beyond he could see the roiling storms in the sky above the legendary Desolate Lands.

He gazed at the strange sight momentarily before his fear of the unknown began to overwhelm him and he turned to head back to his home. Sparing one final glance back, he was shocked at the sight. Light flashed across the sky, illuminating the previously dark land. The dead and dying could be seen everywhere, as if the land itself were trying to destroy its inhabitants.

Within that place of death, he could see movement. With his head filled with tales of demons and worse which supposedly inhabited the Desolate Lands, he forced himself to look harder at the sight. The vague silhouette of a woman could be seen slowly dragging itself across the ground with one hand.

Alarmed, Daniel rushed towards the figure, momentarily forgetting his fear. By the time he had reached the figure, their weak struggles had nearly ceased as they panted despairingly for breath. Looking down at the pitiful figure, he could see hair black as night enshrouding the face of a woman, with blood pouring incessantly from many wounds all over her body. He could tell she was in her final moments. Saddened by his inability to change her fate, his face darkened. Contrarily, the woman’s face, despite being so close to the brink of death brightened. She called out in a weak voice “Please...help…” Daniel could only lament her fate, as she could only be saved by a Guardian at this rate, and he was far from that.

She extended her other arm out, which had previously been hidden by her shroud of hair. “my...son.” She finished, as Daniel noticed a baby, free of wounds and somehow sleeping despite the situation. The baby was placed in his arms in a gentle fashion which seemed to belie her dying figure. She spoke once more, “Please… protect...Sevrath.” as she handed over one more thing, a blood-soaked keris which was surprisingly heavy.

Grabbing the dagger, he noticed a set of old scars lining her wrists, as if something had been digging deep into her flesh for years. With all her worries evaporated now that her baby’s life was safe, she fell to the ground limply, never to move again. Daniel was greatly moved by the love she obviously had for her son, as, despite her body rife with wounds from beasts, and a dagger coated in blood to match, the baby had escaped unscathed. The baby, which had been quietly sleeping until then, suddenly began to wail loudly, as if mourning the loss of his mother.

Finished recounting the tale, Sevrath’s father extended his hand and gave him the keris he was holding. Sevrath could only stare at the dagger with tears, as if he was looking at his deceased mother herself.

“Though the weapon itself is strange, with rust spanning its length and of a shape foreign to most I have seen, I thought that I should give you this as a memento of your mother. Assuming I teach you to fight, you must promise me that you will act as she did - to protect those who cannot protect themselves and those that you love.” He stated sternly, his eyes showing the seriousness of this matter. Sevrath could only look up with tears in his eyes and nod, his thoughts centered on the mother whom he had scorned in his weakness.