The vision had left a mark on Lumark, one he couldn't erase no matter how hard he tried. The Nerhu's desperate voice, the Trinity's chilling words, Child of Death, and the fractured images of fire and destruction haunted him as he followed his mother into the family chamber.
The warmth of the hearth offered no comfort. His legs felt weak as he sank into the chair, the findoth toy still clutched tightly in his hand. The cool, polished surface of the tribrid figure grounded him, keeping him tethered to the present.
Serah moved about the room with practiced precision, but Lumark could feel her glances, sharp and calculating, like she was piecing together a puzzle he couldn't see. Finally, she knelt beside him, her hands resting on his knees.
"You've been quiet," she said, her voice calm but edged with concern.
"I'm fine," Lumark replied, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
Serah tilted her head, studying him. "Don't lie to me, Lumark. Not after everything you've seen."
Lumark looked down at the findoth, tracing its edges with his thumb. "You know, don't you? About the visions?"
Serah nodded, her expression softening. "Your father and I thought they'd stopped when you were younger. We never imagined they would return… or become stronger."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Lumark asked, his voice breaking slightly.
Serah hesitated, as though searching for the right words. "We wanted to protect you. The Trinity… they've always been drawn to you. But we didn't understand why. We still don't."
Her hand moved to his, covering his trembling fingers. "What did you see?"
Lumark hesitated, the words catching in his throat. Finally, he whispered, "The Nerhu… she was holding a baby. She said, 'Don't let them take my child.'" He paused, his voice faltering. "And then the Trinity… they called the baby the Child of Death."
Serah's breath hitched, though she quickly masked her reaction. She released his hand and stood, pacing to the far side of the room. "Does the First Elder know?"
"No," Lumark said. "I haven't told anyone. Not even Thorne."
Serah turned back to him, her expression unreadable. "Your father believes in preparation. He's been teaching you how to lead, but he's never prepared you for this. How could he? How could anyone prepare for what you've seen?"
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Finally, Serah knelt before him again, her voice soft but firm. "Whatever this means, Lumark, you must be strong. Your visions may not make sense now, but they will. And when they do, you'll need to face them with courage."
"I don't know if I can," Lumark admitted.
"Yes, you can," Serah said, her hands gripping his shoulders. "You're stronger than you think."
The convoy set out at dawn, the first rays of sunlight breaking over the jagged peaks of the Norg lands. Lumark rode with his father in the lead transport, the rhythmic hum of the vehicle blending with the faint whistle of the wind.
The First Elder sat beside him, silent and still. His presence was commanding, yet comforting, a steadying force against the storm that raged in Lumark's mind.
"Do you know why we're going to Aqurna?" the First Elder asked suddenly.
"For the bleeding," Lumark replied.
The First Elder nodded but said nothing more.
The journey to Aqurna stretched across vast expanses of golden plains, the terrain dotted with smaller Oreah cities that shimmered like jewels under the protective shimmer of the Dome. Each city was a testament to the Oreahs' mastery of architecture and their deep connection to the land. Lumark watched them pass, their spires rising like watchful sentinels, their streets alive with movement and purpose.
The convoy's first stop came at Mevorah, a bustling trade city known for its sprawling markets. The streets were lined with stalls overflowing with goods—glowing fruits, shimmering fabrics, and polished weapons that reflected the light like mirrors. Oreah merchants called out to passersby, their melodic voices blending into a vibrant cacophony.
Lumark stepped out of the transport alongside the First Elder, the noise and activity a stark contrast to the quiet halls of Thetorah.
"This is the Oreah way," the First Elder said, his voice low. "Order beneath chaos. They thrive on it."
Lumark nodded, though his eyes lingered on a group of Norg laborers hauling crates from a human trading ship. Their faces were hard, their movements deliberate, but their posture spoke of weariness.
"Why are there so few of us here?" Lumark asked.
The First Elder followed his gaze. "Because we're not traders. We're the workforce behind the goods they sell. They wouldn't have this without us, but they'll never admit it."
As they moved through the market, Lumark couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Oreah guards patrolled the streets, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd. A few lingered on him and the First Elder, their expressions unreadable.
"Keep your head high," the First Elder said without looking at him. "They're looking for weakness. Don't give it to them."
Their next stop was Dorthal, a city built into the cliffs overlooking the shimmering Sea of Etra. The sight of the water took Lumark by surprise; its surface glowed faintly, reflecting the artificial light of the Dome in waves of iridescent blue.
The convoy was greeted by a group of Oreah dignitaries, their robes flowing like water as they bowed deeply to the First Elder. Lumark stayed close to his father, his silver eyes scanning the cliffs and the water beyond.
Dorthal was quieter than Mevorah, its streets narrower and its people more subdued. Oreahs moved with purpose, their expressions serious, their conversations hushed.
"They're wary," the First Elder said as they passed a group of Oreahs whispering near a fountain. "This close to Aqurna, everyone's playing a game. They want power, influence, something to set them apart. And they see us as pieces on the board."
As they ascended the cliffs, Lumark noticed a small group of children playing near the edge. One of them, a boy with pale orange skin and golden hair, glanced up as they passed. Their eyes met for a brief moment before the boy turned back to his friends, his laughter carrying on the wind.
"Do you ever think it could be different?" Lumark asked suddenly.
The First Elder raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"
"Between us and them," Lumark said. "Do you ever think we could… live the same way? As equals?"
The First Elder's expression darkened slightly. "Equality is a myth, Lumark. There will always be those who lead and those who follow. What matters is ensuring that we're the ones leading."
Lumark didn't respond, though his father's words weighed heavily on him as they continued their ascent.
By the time they reached Aqurna, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the golden plains. The city's spires glowed in the fading light, their surfaces catching the last rays of the artificial sun.
"Aqurna is different," the First Elder said finally. "The Oreahs don't see the world as we do. Their ways are not our ways. But you will need to understand them if you're to lead."
Lumark frowned. "Why now? Everything seems to be moving very fast"
The First Elder turned to him, his silver eyes meeting Lumark's. "Because you're my son. And because you're destined for more than you realize."
The gates of the capital were larger and more ornate than any they had passed before. Carvings of the goddess Diniir adorned the archway, her faceless form surrounded by scenes of triumph and unity. Oreah guards stood in formation on either side, their armor gleaming like liquid gold.
The convoy slowed as they approached, the sound of horns announcing their arrival. Lumark felt the knot in his stomach tighten as the gates opened with a heavy groan, revealing the bustling streets of Aqurna beyond.
The city was alive with movement, its streets wider and more orderly than those of the smaller cities they had passed. Oreahs moved with purpose, their flowing robes catching the light as they walked. Norgs were present here as well, though they were fewer in number and often seen hauling goods or standing guard outside Oreah establishments.
Lumark noticed the way the Oreahs looked at them—curious, wary, and, in some cases, dismissive. It was a look he had seen before but never so clearly.
"Do not let their stares unsettle you," the First Elder said, his voice low. "They look at us like that because they know we're different. Stronger. Better."
The palace loomed ahead, a masterpiece of Oreah design. Its golden walls seemed to shimmer with an inner light, and its spires stretched impossibly high, piercing the artificial sky like needles.
The arrival was met with formality and grandeur. The First Elder was greeted by a delegation of Oreah dignitaries, their robes as bright and flowing as molten gold. Lumark followed closely behind his father, his presence acknowledged with polite nods but little else.
"You've honored us with your presence, First Elder," said an Oreah man whose voice carried the smooth authority of a seasoned diplomat. "The Nerhu and Nneurha await you in the grand hall."
As they entered the grand hall, the sheer scale of the space took Lumark's breath away. The domed ceiling was encrusted with gemstones that reflected the light in waves of color, creating the illusion of a starry sky. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting the history of Alantus, from the days of chaos to the unification under the Nneurha's rule.
At the center of the hall sat the Nneurha and Nerhu. The Nneurha's imposing figure commanded respect, his broad shoulders and piercing gaze making him seem larger than life. The Nerhu was a vision of elegance, her golden robes flowing like liquid sunlight, her deep green eyes sharp and calculating.
The First Elder approached them with the confidence of a man who had stood in the presence of power many times before. He bowed slightly, the gesture respectful but not deferential.
"Nerhu. Nneurha. Your hospitality humbles us," the First Elder said.
"First Elder," the Nneurha replied, his voice deep and resonant. "It has been too long. Aqurna welcomes you and your son."
The Nerhu's gaze shifted to Lumark, studying him with an intensity that made him feel exposed.
"So this is the boy," she said, her voice smooth but firm. "He carries himself well. You must be proud."
"I am," the First Elder said simply.
The welcome feast that followed was a spectacle unlike anything Lumark had seen before. Long tables stretched the length of the hall, adorned with dishes that shimmered in the light. The food was as much a display of Oreah opulence as it was a meal, each dish meticulously arranged and infused with subtle spices that lingered on the tongue.
Lumark sat beside his father, his eyes scanning the room as he listened to the conversations around him. The Oreah dignitaries spoke in measured tones, their words laced with subtle undertones that hinted at alliances, rivalries, and ambitions.
"You'll learn to read between the lines," the First Elder said quietly, noticing Lumark's furrowed brow. "Diplomacy is as much about what's unsaid as what's spoken, that's why you're going to the academy."
As the night wore on, Lumark's thoughts drifted to the Academy. He didn't know what awaited him there, but he felt a growing sense of unease, as though the path before him was shrouded in shadows.
And somewhere in the distance, faint but unmistakable, he thought he heard the whisper of the wind
The days that followed were filled with ceremonies, meetings, and lessons that left Lumark feeling both overwhelmed and restless. The palace was a maze of opulent corridors and hidden chambers, its walls adorned with carvings and tapestries that told the history of Alantus.
Each morning, Lumark accompanied his father to meetings with the Nneurha and Nerhu. He sat quietly, observing the dynamics between the leaders, the way the Nneurha commanded the room with his presence and the way the Nerhu wielded her words like a blade.
"Power is not always loud," the First Elder said after one such meeting. "Sometimes, the quietest voice is the most dangerous."
In the evenings, Lumark explored the palace on his own, drawn to its quiet corners and forgotten halls. It was during one such exploration that he stumbled upon a vast library, its shelves filled with ancient tomes and holographic records.
An Oreah girl dressed in a fine dark green robe resembling that of a perfectly carved judge noticed him lingering near a shelf and approached with a polite bow. "You must be Lumark," she said. "I'm Kaelith. I'm one of the Academy's students."
Lumark straightened, his heart beating faster, surprised. "I didn't… realize the Academy's students visited the palace."
Kaelith smiled faintly. "Not really, my father is commander Vigge. I hear you'll be joining us soon."
"Yes," Lumark said, though the certainty in his voice felt forced.
Kaelith studied him for a moment before nodding. "The Academy isn't easy, but I think you'll find it… enlightening.
On the morning of his departure to the Academy, Lumark stood at the gates of the palace, his belongings packed and his mind buzzing with anticipation and uncertainty. The First Elder placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm.
"Remember what you've learned here," he said. "The world is bigger than you know, and it's filled with those who would seek to use you. Stay vigilant, but never lose your sense of who you are."
Lumark nodded, his resolve hardening. "I'll make you proud."
"You already have," the First Elder said.
As the gates of the palace closed behind him, Lumark felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders. The Academy awaited, its halls filled with lessons and challenges that would shape him in ways he could not yet imagine.
The Academy was a marvel of engineering and artistry, its crystalline walls reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of colors. The halls were alive with activity, students moving between classes with an air of purpose.
Lumark felt the weight of their stares as he walked through the main hall. He wasn't surprised; Norgs were rare at the Academy, and his towering frame made him stand out even more.
He was led to his first lecture by an Oreah attendant, who spoke little but moved quickly. The room was spacious, its walls lined with shelves of ancient texts and holographic displays.
The instructor, an Oreah dignitary, began the lecture with a commanding voice. "Diplomacy is not just about words. It is about understanding the balance of power and knowing when to act."
Lumark listened, but his thoughts drifted. The vision, the Nerhu's plea, the Trinity's words—they echoed in his mind, refusing to be silenced.
As the lecture ended, Lumark gathered his things and made his way to the dormitory. The cold wind returned as he walked the empty corridors, brushing against his skin like a ghost's touch.
"Lumark," a voice whispered.
He froze, his breath catching in his throat.
"Unity," the voice came again, softer this time.
He turned, scanning the shadows for the source, but the hallway was empty.
The whisper faded, leaving only silence. But the chill it brought stayed with him long after.
Uncanny indeed.