CHAPTER ONE: BIRTHDAY OF BONES CHAPTER TWO: VOICE OF THE FORGOTTEN CHAPTER THREE: THE NAME THAT LIVED CHAPTER FOUR: THE LIGHT BEARER EPILOGUE: LIGHT FOR ALL   CHAPTER ONE: BIRTHDAY OF BONES Today I turn twenty-one. Yemina Everbright—named for light, born to burn bright. The cake candles flickered like tiny golden suns on my kitchen table, my mother’s smile soft as silk across from me. “Make a wish, love,” she’d said, her voice a warm melody I’d known all my life. I’d closed my eyes, whispered “May I always protect those I care for,” and blown. Then the warmth died. A cold like I’d never felt seeped through my skin, heavy as wet earth. The room blurred at the edges, colors bleeding into gray, then black. I couldn’t draw breath—my chest felt hollow, lifeless. This was it, I’d thought. Death on my birthday. But death didn’t sound like this. Cries tore through the darkness—“Please, no more!” a woman shrieked, followed by the guttural crack of bone. Another voice, young and shaking: “I’d rather die than stay here…” then a sickening thud against stone. The sounds were so loud they felt like they were clawing their way out of my own throat. My eyes snapped open. I was alive. But I wished I wasn’t. The place wasn’t a prison—it was a charnel house dressed like one. Iron walls stained brown and black stretched into shadow. Chains hung from the ceiling, some still holding bodies that twitched and whimpered. Men and women alike, their skin marked with burns, cuts, and worse—things I couldn’t name without my stomach heaving. I doubled over, retching onto the cold floor, the stench of blood and fear thick enough to taste. This can’t be real, I told myself, but the pain in my palms—scraped raw against rough stone—proved otherwise. Then I saw him. Tall and gaunt, his face a mask of scars and madness. In his hand, he twisted something sharp and serrated—metal that caught the dim light like a hungry tooth. He was walking toward me, slow and deliberate, his steps echoing like a countdown to my end. I backed away, my legs shaking so hard I could barely stand. Each step sent jolts of terror through me, my mind racing to find a way out—but every thought was drowned by the scream building in my chest. I don’t want to die like this, I gasped, pressing my back against a wall that felt like ice. I won’t let them break me. The torturer raised his blade. And then I heard it—a voice, clear and strong, cutting through the chaos like a ray of light: “Fight.” It wasn’t like the others—no fear, no despair. It was mine. Or maybe it was something more. What is this place? Who are they? My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. The pain grounded me, sharpened my focus. No matter what it takes, I will escape this hell. I won’t let them take my life. I need power… I need to be the light they tried to snuff out. The blade descended. I moved.