The carriage rocked gently as it wound its way through the valley. Iron-rimmed wheels whispered against moonlit stones.
Inside, silence hung as thick as the fur-lined cloak she'd been stripped of days ago.
Her wrists ached beneath the cold kiss of manacles. Ankles bruised where chains had rubbed raw. Her breath misted faintly in the chilled air, but she made no sound. Silence was safer. Silence didn't provoke the guards.
She didn't know how long she'd been traveling. A day? Two? Perhaps more. The sedatives they'd dosed her with, blurred time and thought alike. Only fragments remained: the searing betrayal of her brother's voice, the sigil of her house trampled into the mud, the memory of divine light flickering at her fingertips-
And then, the Fear Gripped her Hollow Heart.
They said he ruled from a throne of bones. That his breath turned air to ash. That the Ruler of Darkness stole maidens not for ransom, but for rituals. They said he bathed in the blood of the just and Light itself dimmed with his every step.
And now she was here. As a Slave.
The chains rattled softly as the carriage slowed.
Then stopped.
She heard footsteps of the guards, headed towards the door which blocked the light from entering in.
She held her breath. She knew as she held her breath that the light from the kingdom of Darkness would be firelight used to burn the bodies of His victims.... The victims of the Ruler of Darkness.
The latch creaked. The door swung open.
And light poured in.
But not firelight. Not the crackling orange she expected. No torch-bearing cultists. No smoke-stained skies. Instead—
Moonlight. Soft. Pale. Pure.
And with it, fragrance. The scent of night-blooming lilies. Sweet, not sickening. The wind that touched her cheek carried lavender and something else—A hint of fragrance of fresh fruit?
The man standing there—A guard, cloaked in deep Blue armor that shimmered like the night sky—did not yank her out. He extended a gloved hand.
She stared, Half Shocked and Half Relieved.
She gracefully accepted, Her bare feet stepped onto smooth obsidian stone, polished like glass. And she froze.
Before her, the city unfolded like a dream torn from heaven's own vault.
Towering spires kissed the night sky, their peaks crowned with silver flames that burned without smoke. Roads paved in mirror-black rock curved gently beneath floating bridges of crystal. Between them flowed soft streams of glowing blue—a liquid she did not know, winding like veins through a living body.
Starlight danced on glass rooftops. Glowing petals drifted down from trees with violet bark and silver leaves. Laughter echoed nearby—children, chasing illusions that shimmered like fireflies.
She blinked, half-expecting the vision to melt.
But it remained.
"Where... where are the bones?"
Her chains clinked again as she took another step. No Burning Bodies. No crucified rebels. Just stalls brimming with color and sound—merchants selling glowing fruits, books that turned pages on their own, perfumes that hummed when opened. A cat with two tails stretched lazily atop a barrel.
People looked at her. But not with malice. Not even pity.
Just... curiosity.
Her knees nearly buckled.
"This is Vael'Thorne, Our Kingdom" said the guard beside her. His voice was quiet, reverent even.
She turned to him, eyes wild. "But... this is the kingdom of darkness."
He smiled faintly beneath his helm. "So they say."
A floating lantern drifted past, releasing a trail of glowing pollen. She stared after it.
'This can't be real.'
They passed through the Aetheriel Markets now. Every step brought new wonders. A woman with glowing white eyes sang in a language she didn't recognize, her voice bending light into swirls. A beastman sculptor shaped shadows into physical forms with his bare hands, crafting moving animals that blinked and played.
There were whispers too—hushed voices remarking on her chains, her presence, her divine glow even dimmed beneath exhaustion. She caught snatches:
"Is that.... a slave?"
"She doesn't look like a prisoner..."
"She glows. Like starlight before dawn."
She lowered her gaze, ashamed of their awe. The divine power in her veins felt like a curse now.
The road turned upward, leading toward a distant palace that rose like a shard of midnight sky. It pulsed gently, its towers, like the world's heart beating in time with the stars.
Her gaze was drawn to a high balcony—just for a moment, she saw a figure there. A silhouette carved from moonlight and shadow. Watching.
Then gone.
Her heart skipped.
She gripped the chain that held her shackles. Her fingers trembled. Not from fear. Atleast Not entirely.
She could feel it in the air. This wasn't a land of torment. This was a kingdom of mystery, built on beauty and brilliance—not cruelty. Every instinct warred against what her mind had always known.
As they crossed the bridge of stars—wide, arcing, glowing faintly beneath their feet—she saw dancers in the gardens far below. Lights trailing from their hands, laughter like bells.
And in the very center of the bridge, a statue rose. Two figures: one of light, one of shadow, carved into an embrace. An inscription ran along its base:
"Not all light is pure, not all darkness blind.
What matters is the warmth of the hand you reach for."
Her breath caught.
She had been told darkness devours all light.
But here, among silver trees and starlit streets... She began to wonder, for the first time in her life— 'What if it simply shelters it?'