The Light that burn
1505 Words
Light burned through her chest like a blade of the sun.
Eira’s scream tore through the Shadow Palace as walls splintered and shadows bled silver. Draven caught her before she hit the ground, his cloak flaring into a storm of living darkness. The light’s army had breached the gates—winged creatures of radiance descending like falling stars. The realm shook under the clash of opposites.
“Don’t let go of me,” Draven ordered, voice raw with fury and fear.
He raised his sword, forged of nightfire, and swung through the blinding storm. Each strike carved swaths of black flame through the air, devouring the light. But for every creature he felled, two more rose from the breach. The palace itself moaned, its foundations fracturing under the assault.
Eira tried to stand. The mark on her wrist pulsed violently, burning so bright it seemed to melt her veins. Her body trembled, caught between light and dark, neither willing to let go.
“Draven—” she gasped.
He turned, eyes glowing silver. “You’re drawing them to you. The light wants its vessel back.”
“I’m not—” Her words broke into a sob. “I can’t stop it!”
“Then I will.”
He pressed his palm to her heart. The mark flared, sending a shockwave across the hall. Shadows wrapped around her, forming a cocoon that blocked the light’s advance. But it wasn’t enough. The radiance poured in, blinding, searing.
Draven’s roar shook the realm. “Eira, release it! Before it consumes us both!”
Her mind fractured into fragments. Voices—echoes—whispered inside her head.
Child of eclipse. Balance must break to be born again.
“No!” she screamed. “I won’t be your weapon!”
The world exploded in white.
---
When she opened her eyes, silence reigned.
The battlefield was gone. She stood in a vast plain of glass, surrounded by falling ash that glowed faintly like dying embers. Her body felt weightless. Every heartbeat echoed like thunder.
A figure appeared ahead—a woman of light wearing armor shaped like sunrise. Her eyes were pity and judgment combined.
“Who are you?” Eira demanded.
“I am the First Flame,” the woman said. “The guardian of all that the dark has forgotten.”
Eira clenched her fists. “You attacked me.”
“I tested you.” The woman’s voice was neither cruel nor kind. “He has bound you to his dying realm. Do you know what that means?”
Eira’s chest ached. “He saved me.”
The First Flame stepped closer, light rippling from her skin. “He saved you to save himself. The Shadow King cannot love without destroying.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then why does the mark burn when you think of him?”
Eira looked down. The symbol on her wrist shimmered like molten silver. Pain and longing twined through her veins, indistinguishable.
“I can’t break it,” she whispered.
“Then both worlds will fall,” said the First Flame. “The bond must be severed, even if it costs your heart.”
Light engulfed her, and the vision shattered.
---
Eira gasped awake.
The palace lay in ruins. Shadows and light waged war through broken corridors. Draven knelt beside her, his hair matted with blood—silver blood that glowed like moonlight. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths.
“You stopped breathing,” he said hoarsely. “For a moment, I thought—”
“You thought you lost control.”
He met her gaze, a thousand storms flickering in his eyes. “I never lose control.”
“You’re lying.”
Draven’s jaw tightened. “What did you see?”
“The First Flame.” She pushed herself upright. “She said the bond is killing us both.”
He flinched, barely visible. “She lies. She always has.”
“She told me you’ll destroy me, just like you did her.”
Draven froze. “You spoke to Aislen.”
“She called herself the first queen.”
He looked away, voice low. “She was the first to bear the bond. And the first to betray it.”
“Betray—or escape?”
His hand shot out, gripping her arm. The mark blazed between them. “Do not speak of things you don’t understand.”
“I understand enough,” Eira snapped. “You bound me without asking, dragged me here, and now you expect me to trust you?”
Draven’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “If I wanted to cage you, I wouldn’t have given you power.”
“I didn’t ask for it!”
“No one ever does.”
The ground shuddered as another explosion echoed through the palace. Draven pulled her close instinctively, his body shielding hers as debris rained down. The heat of him seeped through her, the pulse of his power resonating against her skin. For a moment, all she could hear was his heartbeat—steady, defiant.
Eira whispered, “Why do you care if I live?”
Draven’s voice was barely audible. “Because if you die, so do I.”
Their eyes locked. The bond between them pulsed, thick with tension and something darker. His hand lingered at her waist, fingers tracing the edge of her mark. She should have pulled away. She didn’t.
He leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. “You are my ruin, Eira Vance.”
“Then maybe I’ll ruin you.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “You already are.”
The next blast ripped through the hall. A burst of white light slammed into the floor, throwing them apart. Eira hit the ground hard, pain lancing up her spine. Through the smoke, she saw a figure descending—a warrior of pure radiance wielding a spear of dawnlight.
Draven rose to his feet, shadows swirling around him. “Stay back.”
But the light spoke, its voice both male and echoing. “You cannot protect her. The bond is corruption. Release her, and we may spare your realm.”
Draven’s answer was a growl. “Come and take her.”
They clashed in a blur of light and shadow. Each strike sent waves of energy ripping through the ruins. Eira shielded her face, the brightness searing her eyes. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Something inside her—a pull, a call—began to rise.
The mark on her skin glowed brighter than ever before.
Draven faltered under the onslaught, the light warrior driving him back. His sword cracked, shadows flickering.
“No!” Eira cried, reaching out.
The moment her hand touched the floor, darkness spread from her fingertips, coiling like serpents of smoke. The power she’d tried to resist answered her plea. It wasn’t just shadow—it was balance. Half light, half dark. Both hers.
The warrior turned toward her, spear raised. “Impossible—”
Eira stood, eyes glowing silver and gold. “I’m not your enemy.”
She raised her hand. The air split apart. Light and shadow fused into a single burst that hurled the warrior backward, through walls and stone.
Silence fell.
Draven stared at her, chest heaving. “You…”
“I didn’t mean to—”
He crossed the distance between them, grabbing her shoulders. “You wield both sides. Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Her voice shook. “I saved you.”
His hand slid to her cheek, thumb brushing the line of her jaw. “You changed everything.”
Their faces were inches apart. The tension between them burned hotter than battlefire. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause—light trembling at the edge of dark.
Draven’s lips parted as if to speak—but then the ceiling split open.
A voice rolled down from the heavens. Cold. Absolute.
“The balance must be restored. The vessel must be purged.”
Eira looked up in horror as beams of light converged on her position. Draven shoved her aside, his arms wrapping around her as the sky itself exploded.
The light swallowed them both.
---
When the radiance faded, only smoke and silence remained.
Eira stirred, her body weak. Draven lay motionless beside her, shadows flickering around his still form. His hand still clutched hers.
“Draven…” she whispered, shaking him gently. “Wake up.”
No response.
Tears blurred her vision. “You can’t die. Not you.”
The mark on her wrist pulsed once—then twice. A heartbeat answering hers.
Draven’s eyes snapped open, glowing brighter than ever.
But his voice, when he spoke, was not his own.
“The Shadow King is gone,” it said. “And the light has taken his place.”
Eira’s blood turned to ice. “Draven?”
He smiled—a beautiful, terrible thing. “You wanted balance, my queen. Now you’ll learn what it truly means.”
- Writer
