The Solaris family, bearers of the radiant Sun Glyph Crest, had long stood at the zenith of power and influence within the realm. For centuries, their bloodline had been synonymous with brilliance, strength, and ambition, their name inspiring both awe and envy across the great houses of the land. Tracing their origins back to the War of the Waking Glyphs, they were heralded as the first wielders to harness raw glyphic energy into radiant constructs—a feat that shifted the balance of power and forged the foundation of the Aetherial age.
At the heart of this rise was the family motto: "We do not follow the light. We are the light." It wasn't just words—it was reality. The Solari were born to the sun itself, masters of radiant energy and glyphs that bent to their will. Light itself became their greatest weapon, pure and consuming, and each generation was pressured to uphold—or surpass—the legacy set by the last.
But the Solaris name was a blessing and a curse. Other families venerated them in public but plotted their downfall in the shadows, seeking any opportunity to usurp their hold on dominance. The world revered the Solaris family as radiant stars, but stars also burned fiercely—and sometimes, too brightly.
The training yard of the Solaris estate basked in resplendent radiance, echoes of power laced through every glowing glyph etched into the polished, sunlit field. The yard stretched wide, a golden arena bordered by columns of pristine white stone, each adorned with shimmering runes of the Solaris family. Here, strength was molded, skill was tested, and weakness was exposed for all to see.
Merir Solaris stood at the center, exposed.
He exhaled shakily, his hazel eyes darting to his siblings who surrounded the space like smoldering suns. Their golden blades hummed like thunder in the still air. Each one of them stood tall, radiant, bastions of power expected of the Solaris bloodline. He couldn't bring himself to meet their impatient stares for long.
In front of the group loomed Lord Cael Solaris, the High Patriarch of the Solaris family. Clad in flowing robes embroidered with shifting glyphs of pure light, he radiated authority. His face was severe, his frown deeper than usual. He stepped forward, his footsteps ringing sharp against the immaculate stone floor.
"Summon your Solaris Blade, Merir," his father barked, the words cutting through the quiet tension. "Do not waste time."
Merir clenched his jaw, suppressing the flinch that threatened to betray his nerves. He lifted his trembling hand toward the sky, palm open, trying to will the golden energy forth.
"Focus," Cael commanded. "Feel the light in your blood. Draw it to you!"
"I— I'm trying," Merir stammered weakly, his voice like gravel under crushing weight.
"Try harder!"
There was a faint flicker in Merir's outstretched hand. A weak tendril of shimmering gold flared to life before sputtering into nothing, leaving only blackened smoke spiraling from his palm.
A quiet, cutting laugh broke the silence.
"Oh, incredible," drawled Lux Solaris, Merir's elder sister, twirling her blade as if mocking his failure with her elegance. Its golden radiance set her blonde hair aglow, casting her shadow long across the stone. Her deep crimson training robes fluttered as she turned effortlessly to their eldest brother. "Did you see that, Kael? Truly... magnificent."
Kael Solaris, eldest of the siblings, didn't even bother to respond. He didn't scoff. He didn't smirk. He just stood there, arms crossed, his massive golden scythe glowing faintly at his side. His silence was worse than mockery.
Merir felt his pulse quicken. Every nerve in his body screamed in embarrassment, but he still held his ground. He summoned every ounce of desperation within himself. He closed his eyes, forcing his mind to go still. And then—
Flicker. A faint glint of light in his hand began to form…
But just as quickly as it sparked, it snuffed out.
"ENOUGH!" Lord Cael's voice boomed. The force unbalanced Merir's footing, his knees nearly buckling.
Merir's head dipped in shame as his hand fell limply to his side.
"Is this what you call effort?" his father barked, disappointment laced into every syllable. "Are you even trying? The Solaris Blade is no simple parlor trick—it is the core of your duty! If you cannot summon it, you dishonor this family!"
"And yourself, honestly," Lux added with a sharp laugh, swinging her blade lazily and letting it crackle with golden energy before dispersing it in a dramatic flash of light. "Even the servants could summon more light than you."
"Enough, Lux," Kael said, his voice a deep rumble. For a moment, there was silence, but his next words sent another bolt of shame into Merir. "Father's disappointment is enough."
Merir's heart sank further as Kael walked away without so much as a glance in his direction. The others followed, Lux shooting Merir one final sneer before striding confidently off the training ground.
Cael loomed for one long, excruciating moment before turning on his heel. As his golden robes glided through the glowing glyphs, he said, "You will be disciplined until you rise to your name. Or you will fall beneath it."
Merir remained standing at the center of the yard, though his body screamed to collapse. His hands trembled at his sides, curling into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. For minutes, the only sound in the radiant training ground was his labored breathing.
Finally, he allowed himself to sink to his knees. His father had turned his back on him, his siblings laughed, and his blade remained nonexistent.
Merir Solaris was both humiliated and alone.
That night, the grand halls of the Solaris mansion stretched on in cruel, mocking silence. Golden pillars glowed with the faint radiance of embedded glyphs, lightstones hovering in the air casting a steady brilliance throughout the estate. No corner was shrouded in darkness, as was the Solaris family's way.
But in his quarters, Merir sat in shadow. The single lightstone at the ceiling shone dim; he hadn't bothered to adjust its luminescence.
He sat hunched on the edge of his bed, staring at the reflection in the mirror across the room. Sweat still clung to his body from the earlier training. His hazel eyes were heavy as they bore into the polished, golden surface.
"Mirage," he whispered to himself.
His name wasn't like his siblings'. His siblings held meaning in the light—Strength. Fury. Radiance. Power. His? Mirage. A phantom. An illusion. A fleeting trick of the light.
His chest tightened, and he clenched his fists, nails biting into his skin again. "I'm…I'm nothing here. For years, I've—" He bit off the sentence and ran his palm over his face instead.
The silence stretched on, suffocating him until his thoughts suddenly… shifted.
It was as though something struck—a memory, vivid and foreign, seizing his mind. His breath caught.
Images flashed in his head, sharp enough to be real. Tall towers scraping gray skies, streets lined with lights—all alien to Lumina. No radiant glyphs. No glowing gold. Only metal, stone, and bustling crowds.
In his mind, a name burned bright, sharp in its simplicity yet defiant in its power:
Mark Malaya.
Merir clutched his temple as the room swayed, those visions pressing deeper into his consciousness.
"I wasn't always... who I am?" he breathed, collapsing to his knees.
The air rippled before him, shimmering and vibrating unnaturally. A thin line of light sliced through reality itself, hovering in the center of the room. It pulsed, gold tinged with something darker.
The voice in his head was calm and foreign, blending into the unfamiliar memories:
"Welcome, Mark Malaya. Your Ability has been activated: 'I Say, Therefore I Am.'"
Merir's eyes widened, staring at the tear in the air. Energy danced at the edges. The system's words seared themselves into him.
Breathless, trembling, he whispered, "What… is happening to me?"