The forest at the base of the Celestine Peaks was cloaked in fog — a silent ocean of silver mist that swallowed sound and memory alike. Moonlight dripped through branches like liquid glass, illuminating tracks of faded ruins beneath moss and frost. Here, the world remembered what men desperately tried to forget.
Lucien walked quietly between the grave trees. Each step disturbed ancient symbols carved into the stones — glyphs of a forgotten faith that once praised the dawn he had betrayed. His presence warped the surroundings; faint motes of golden light flickered and died along his path, devoured by the faint darkness trailing his heels.
He stopped at a fractured shrine, kneeling before a weathered stone idol.
The statue's face had eroded long ago, its hands broken off, yet it radiated the faint essence of divinity — of hope.
Lucien traced a thumb across its surface, and for a moment, pain crossed his serene expression.
"They prayed to me once," he murmured. "And I failed them."
The air trembled. A rustle — a heartbeat; someone was watching.
From the bushes, a slender figure emerged, holding a dagger carved of spirit crystal. Her cloak was torn, stained by soot and blood, her breathing uneven. Eyes of muted lilac fixated on Lucien, trembling between awe and fear.
"Stay where you are," she warned. "You're standing in a death zone—the corrupted beasts here devour even high cultivators."
Lucien looked at her, calm and curious. "And yet you entered."
Her grip on the dagger tightened. "Because someone has to light the last beacon before the corruption spreads."
At that, Lucien's expression softened imperceptibly. The girl's spirit reminded him of another — someone who had once stood beside him beneath a rising sun.
"What is your name?" he asked quietly.
"Lyssia Vale," she replied, wary. "Of the fallen Dawn Temple… or what's left of it."
Silence settled between them. The pendant around Lucien's neck pulsed faintly.
Lyssia frowned, stepping closer. "That pendant—where did you get it?"
Before he could answer, the air shattered. Branches bent under unseen weight; a deep growl rippled through the clearing. A monstrous shadow emerged from the mist — a beast of twisted light and tar-black energy, corrupted by both holy wrath and demonic miasma.
Lyssia stumbled back. "That thing shouldn't exist—!"
Lucien rose to his feet, eyes narrowing as his aura awakened in quiet defiance. Golden and black light spiraled around him, forming a twin-winged halo that split the darkness.
"Corrupted light and cursed shadow," he said slowly, unsheathing his blade. "How familiar."
The beast roared, sky trembling in resonance.
Lucien stepped forward once, letting Eclipsera hum in his grasp.
"For years," he whispered, voice calm as dawn's first breath, "I've wondered what I've become. Perhaps… this battle will remind me."
The ground erupted in radiant flame as his blade moved — elegant, solemn, unstoppable.
And in that single moment, the forgotten forest woke to witness the return of the man who once challenged heaven itself.