CHAPTER EIGHT
543 Words
The Dawn-Spark
The lead Arbiter sneered, unimpressed by the man who appeared to be nothing more than a soot-stained peasant. "Bold words for a Lowland rat," he hissed, leveling his staff at Alaric’s chest. "Purify him."
A beam of freezing lunar energy shot from the staff, meant to turn Alaric’s heart into a block of ice. Lyra screamed, reaching out as if she could catch the spell with her bare hands.
But the frost never touched him.
As the beam neared, the air around Alaric didn't just warm—it ignited. The shadow-veil Lyra had woven remained intact, hiding his face, but it couldn't contain the sheer power radiating from his core. Alaric didn't move; he simply breathed out. From his skin, a shockwave of gold-white fire erupted, colliding with the lunar beam and incinerating it instantly.
The Arbiters stumbled back, their eyes wide with a terror they hadn't felt in centuries. "That... that is not the Moon’s light," the second one stammered, his robe catching fire from the sheer heat of the room. "The Forbidden Glow! He is a Sun-Bringer!"
Alaric didn't wait for them to recover. He moved with a speed that defied the laws of the moon-drenched world. He didn't use a sword; he simply placed a hand on the lead Arbiter’s staff. The raw moon-shard at the tip turned red, then white, before shattering into molten glass.
"Tell your High Priest," Alaric said, his voice ringing with a solar authority that shook the very foundations of the workshop. "The night is long, but it is not eternal. The Sun has remembered its name."
With a flick of his wrist, a pulse of golden energy threw the Arbiters out into the street. They didn't get up.
The silence that followed was heavy with the smell of ozone and burnt silk. Kaelen looked at his Prince with a mixture of awe and fear. "Alaric... you could have leveled the entire district with that much power."
"I felt it," Alaric whispered, looking at his hands. They were trembling, not from weakness, but from the sudden, violent surge of life. "It was like a roar in my blood. I’ve spent twenty years feeling like a guttering candle. Now, I feel like a wildfire."
Lyra slumped against her workbench, the adrenaline leaving her body in a cold rush. "We have to go. Now. That light... it was like a beacon. Every Seeker in the city is probably heading for this alley."
"She’s right," Kaelen said, grabbing a heavy traveling cloak and throwing it over Alaric to hide the shimmering heat still rolling off him. "But where? We can't stay in the city, and the High Priests control the mountain passes."
Lyra looked at her bone needle, then at the glowing embers on her floor. "There is one place. The Whispering Wastes. The magic there is so chaotic the Priests can't track anything. It’s where the largest shard of the Sun was said to have fallen."
Alaric looked at her, his brown-disguised eyes searching hers. "You would lead us into the Wastes? Most people consider it a death sentence."
"I've spent my life weaving fragments of the past," Lyra said, standing tall. "I think it's time I saw the place where the world actually broke."
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