Breakthrough

Fragments of Light

Shane

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I wake to blinding light, warmth like the sun soaking into my skin. The air is so clear it feels unnatural, too pure. My name… I know my name. Shane. But beyond that, there’s only emptiness, a vast hollow where my memories should be. I sit up, disoriented, surrounded by marble pillars that stretch into a sky of endless gold. The soft hum of a distant melody fills the air, a sound more felt than heard. I’m in Elyssian, though I don’t know how I know that.

The halls are impossibly vast, shimmering with light that pulses like a heartbeat. Other figures—bright and beautiful, each radiating an aura of peace—move with purpose. Their steps are quiet, their faces serene. I realize they don’t look at me, not really. They are familiar yet alien, like reflections of something I’ve forgotten.

Then they appear—The Luminaries, the beings who rule this place. They glide forward, their forms cloaked in blinding light. One speaks, her voice like wind over water, calm but absolute.

“Shane, you are a newly risen one.”

Newly risen. The term feels clinical, impersonal, but I don’t question it. I have no choice. The Luminaries surround me, their radiance suffocating in its perfection.

“Your memory has been cleansed,” she continues, “but your purpose remains. You have a choice: Become a Battle Angel, guarding the realms, or pursue the path of reincarnation. To earn your rebirth, you must capture one thousand darkholds and seal them within the Vessel of Light.”

I glance down and see it hanging around my neck—a delicate glass jar that glows faintly, tethered to a silver chain. Empty, for now.

“But beware,” another Luminary warns. “The path is perilous. Break the laws of Elyssian, and you will fall. A Fallen Angel is condemned to the Underworld.”

Their warning presses down on me, but I feel no fear, only emptiness. What else is there to do? I accept. I am now a Battle Angel.

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Years Later

The furie’s parting words echo in my mind, latching onto my thoughts like barbs. “You may be able to kill me now, but you’ll soon fall.” Its grin, wide and menacing, burned into my memory before it dissolved into ashes. Even after returning to Elyssian, I can’t shake the unease that coils in my chest.

But it isn’t just the furie’s words that disturb me. It’s him—the sinner. The one who emerged from the shadows, uninvited and out of place. His golden eyes, sharp and unyielding, held a weight I couldn’t understand. But it wasn’t his gaze alone. His tousled brown hair, the way it caught the faint light, and the flicker of recognition that stirred in me—it all felt familiar, hauntingly so.

I pace the marble halls of Elyssian, my steps echoing against the pristine floors. I try to bury the memory, to focus on the duty at hand. The Vessel of Light hangs heavy around my neck, nearly full with 982 darkholds. Just a few more, and I’ll be free to reincarnate. Yet the thought doesn’t bring me peace, only more questions.

Unable to find solace, I leave the chambers and make my way to the Gardens of Aetheria, the one place that always seems to quiet my mind. The gardens stretch endlessly, a sea of ethereal flowers glowing softly under the eternal twilight. The air hums with life, a symphony of whispers carried on the wind.

I stretch my wings as I walk, their feathers brushing against clusters of primroses scattered across the ground. Their soft petals tickle against my skin, grounding me in the present. But no matter how serene the gardens feel, my thoughts keep drifting.

I wander deeper into the garden, where the light grows dimmer, the air heavier. At the heart of the forest stands the Yseria Tree, its gnarled branches reaching skyward, adorned with glowing silver fruits. The fruits shimmer like captured moonlight, each one pulsing faintly as if alive.

I stop a few paces away, staring up at the tree. The words of the Luminary from my first days in Elyssian resurface, clear and cautionary: “If you eat the fruit of the Yseria Tree, your past life will flood back into your mind. Every memory, every emotion. But it comes with a cost.”

They had warned me about the first to eat from the tree—Killian. A powerful Battle Angel who crumbled under the weight of his memories, unable to reconcile his past with his duty. His fall was swift, turning him into the very thing we were meant to protect the world from.

I clench my fists, my gaze fixed on the tree. Why am I drawn here now? The sinner’s face flashes in my mind again, his piercing gaze, his silent presence. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the image.

Still, the thought lingers: What if I remembered?

But the consequences loom large. The furie’s words gnaw at me, a warning I can’t decipher. And the sinner—there’s something about him, a thread of familiarity that feels like it could unravel everything.

I turn away from the Yseria Tree, wings folding tightly against my back. I can’t risk it, not yet. But as I walk back through the garden, a chilling realization settles in my chest.

What if the answers I need aren’t in the Vessel of Light, but in the memories I’ve lost?

The thought terrifies me.

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