Chapter 6 – Whispers of the Lost King
(Arc 1: The Awakening of Lumora)
Night came quietly over Vaelwyn. The glowing lanterns floated high, their soft golden light drifting through the air like silent spirits.Arin sat beside the great tree, Elyndra, staring up at the twin moons — one blue, one red — that watched the world from above.
The air was cool, filled with the scent of leaves and distant rain. For the first time in days, his heart felt still.
He touched the golden mark on his hand, now faint and calm."Who are you?" he whispered to himself. "Why me?"
Footsteps echoed softly behind him. Liora appeared, carrying a small bowl of luminous water. She sat beside him without a word, placing it near the roots of the ancient tree.
"The forest listens at night," she said quietly. "If you ask something from the heart, sometimes it answers."
Arin looked at her. "Has it ever answered you?"
Liora smiled faintly, her gaze distant. "Once. A long time ago. But the answers it gives are rarely simple."
The old village elder approached them, leaning on his wooden staff that glowed faintly at the tip. "You wish to understand Lumora," he said kindly. "Then listen closely."
Arin nodded, and the elder began to speak — his voice deep and calm, echoing through the quiet grove.
"Long ago, before the forests whispered and before the shadows grew, Lumora was whole.A single realm of light — pure, endless, and alive.
At its heart ruled the Lost King, a being born from the light itself. His voice shaped the world, and his will kept the balance between creation and chaos."
The elder paused, his eyes reflecting the silver glow of Elyndra's roots."But light without darkness is fragile. One day, a shadow rose — not from outside, but from the King's own doubt. That shadow broke Lumora's heart in two. The world shattered into fragments — light and darkness scattered everywhere."
Arin listened intently. "So that's why it's called the Fractured Light?"
The elder nodded. "Yes. This village stands on one of those fragments — a remnant of what once was."
He looked at Arin's hand. "That mark you bear… it is the Sigil of the Chosen. It carries a spark of the Lost King's own essence."
Arin's eyes widened. "You mean… the King's power?"
"Perhaps," the elder said softly. "Or perhaps his memory. Some say the King's spirit sleeps within those chosen by Lumora itself."
Liora turned to him, her expression unreadable. "I told you, Arin. You weren't brought here by chance."
Arin shook his head, trying to take it all in. "But… why me? I'm not special. I'm not a hero."
The elder smiled gently. "Neither was the King, before Lumora called him."
A breeze stirred the leaves above them. The glowing veins of Elyndra pulsed brighter, and for a brief moment, Arin felt a strange warmth inside his chest — like someone was watching him, comforting him.
He looked up at the sky. The twin moons seemed to shimmer more brightly, their light crossing paths and forming a soft golden hue that bathed the village.
Liora whispered, "The King once said — 'Light is not what we see, but what we choose to be.' Maybe that's your path too."
Arin smiled faintly. "Then I'll try to understand it… even if I don't know where it leads."
The elder placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then you've already begun."
As the night deepened, the three sat in silence, listening to the soft hum of the forest.Somewhere far beyond the horizon, a faint light flickered — like a heartbeat echoing through the world.
Lumora was alive.And it had begun to remember.