27. Raea #2
It scattered across the void, threading fire through the heavens, weaving power into the marrow of creation. These were the stars—not lights to banish darkness, but living embers of the universe’s power.
Yet light is not meant to dwell forever alone in the sky. When the Balance of creation falters, and the shadow swells beyond its border, the stars will choose a vessel. Into mortal flesh will their luminance descend, and through that vessel, the memory of creation’s power will awaken once more.
Such a soul is called Lumisthariel, bearer of the first light’s song. Their power is not conjured, nor learned. It is the heartbeat of the stars made flesh, the echo of the beginning carried forward into the now.
This soul does not rise to conquer. They rise to illuminate. When all else is consumed by shadow, they will burn brightest—a reminder that even in the end, light was the first word ever spoken.”
Annotations by E.K.:
The oldest of the temple records place these verses far before the age of councils—before the Veil itself. A single note says the light will arrive when the worlds stand at the edge of the precipice, when darkness believes it has already won.
It is said that when Lumisthariel walks among us, even the fabric of magic will shift and the Veil itself will answer to their light.
You, Princess, I believe after much deliberation and thought, are Lumisthariel.
You carry the light of creation within you.
If I am wrong, then I fear what it means for us all.
My chest tightens—not with pride, but with dread.
Lumisthariel.
A title doesn’t teach me control. It doesn’t tell me how to stop the fire when it answers fear instead of command. Or how to reach Auralan when I don’t even know where to begin. If I fail, it isn’t me who burns. It’s all of us.
Ryker’s hand tightens over mine, like he feels the spiral before I can stop it. “We’ll figure it out.”
Not you.
We.
With the weight of Elison’s words still swirling in my mind, Ryker and I find Professor Ainslyn on the training grounds. He smiles at our approach, standing as we near. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Here for another round, Princess?”
I blush as Ryker turns to study me.
“I’ve been…practicing,” I tell him. “Or…more like struggling,” I groan, burying my face in my hands.
The professor shakes his head lightly. “She’s doing just fine. Her problem isn’t power. It’s fear.”
Easy to say when the fate of the system isn’t humming under your skin, waiting for you to lose focus.
Ryker lets out a low laugh, wrapping an arm around me. “Sounds about right. To be fair, though, if I could melt everything and everyone on this island, I’d be terrified, too.”
“Thanks,” I deadpan.
Professor Ainslyn waves us over to a door to the training facility. We take the stairs to a lower level I’ve never seen before. I smile when the lights flicker on, revealing a normal facility with a training mat.
“You two need to practice. But I think it’s best if we start with the basics. No magic. Princess, I’m sorry to say, but your hand-to-hand skills could use some help.”
I roll my eyes but say nothing.
“Prince Anders, please. I’d like to test her and see where we need to start.”
Ryker grins as he drags me by the waist to the center of the mat. Thankfully, before coming here, we both dressed in appropriate attire. Ryker grabs my arm, turning on my energy shield.
“Ah, please no shields,” the professor says from the side.
“He’ll kill me!” I respond in disbelief.
Ryker only laughs, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.
“Don’t be dramatic,” the professor responds. “He’s the most skilled opponent.”
I swear, Ryker preens at the compliment.
“Careful,” I mutter. “Your ego’s already dangerous.”
“You didn’t seem to mind it three days ago.” His gaze lingers like he’s already counting the minutes until we’re alone.
“That was before the universe started ending.”
His smile softens. “Fair.”
“Just the basics to start,” the professor encourages.
I came here to work on my magic, not humiliate myself. Ryker spends every morning honing his skills and his body. It’s clear he puts the work in because, gods, his bare chest is a distraction.
The professor pauses, his gaze flicking to the small satchel at my side. “Hold. You brought it?”
My fingers curl instinctively around the familiar weight of the orb that was gifted to me by elders on the Ancestor Isles. I had forgotten about it until Mera found it in my trunks from school.
I hesitate before pulling it free. The glass sphere fits perfectly in my palm, cool and smooth, its surface catching the low light of the training room. Veins of soft gold and starlight swirl beneath the glass—restless. Waiting.
Ryker’s posture shifts the moment it’s visible. Subtle. Protective.
“I don’t need it,” I say quickly, even as my thumb brushes the surface. He’s been having me familiarize myself with it for the past few days. Every night before bed, I’m supposed to let it call to my magic.
Professor Ainslyn arches a brow. “Humor me.”
I exhale and close my fingers around it. At first, it responds the way it always does—warmth blooming in my chest, a familiar hum answering in my veins. My magic stirs, cautious but eager, like it’s been pacing behind a door for too long.
Then it pushes.
The warmth spikes too fast, too sharp. My breath stutters as the light inside the orb flares, brighter than it should, slipping past my grip like water through clenched fingers.
“Raea,” Ryker warns.
I try to pull it back. Ground it. Do everything the professor has taught me.
Instead, the pressure builds—too much, too soon. My vision blurs at the edges as heat licks up my arm, the orb vibrating hard enough that my fingers ache.
“No,” I whisper. “Wait—”
The light fractures. Not an explosion. Not fire. Just…wrong. The glow stutters, flickers, then collapses inward, leaving the orb dim and inert in my hand. Silence crashes down on the three of us. My heart hammers as I stare at it. My throat tightens. I didn’t lose control. I lost connection.
When I look up, Professor Ainslyn’s expression has gone grim. “That is not a discipline issue.”
I swallow. “Then what is it?”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
Ryker steps closer, his presence a steady weight at my back, his hand hovering near my wrist like he’s afraid to touch the orb and afraid not to touch me.
“Its capacity. Your power is there. Growing, even. But you—” Professor Ainslyn’s gaze meets mine. “—are not yet whole.”
The words land heavy.
I curl my fingers around the orb, shame and fear tangling in my chest. “So until the lifeforce is restored…”
“You’re asking a star to burn in a mortal body,” Ainslyn finishes. “No human has ever possessed such power.”
Ryker’s jaw tightens.
I force a breath, lifting my chin even as dread coils low in my stomach. “Then teach me how to survive it. Because the war isn’t going to wait for me to be ready.”
Professor Ainslyn shakes his head. “For now, you must learn to recognize the place where your magic originates. It should be instinctual. When your lifeforce is restored, control will follow.” He pauses, his gaze moving between Ryker and me. “Until then, we train the body.”
I want to argue that being able to punch someone isn’t going to win a war—but he’s right. Survival doesn’t wait for perfection. And the weight of it all presses in on me, sharp and relentless. Not one great burden, but many small ones piling up until it’s hard to breathe.
I set the orb a safe distance away and step into position across from Ryker, my feet falling into place exactly the way Trysten drilled into me.
Ryker lifts his hands, bracing.
I drive my fists into his palms, warming up. He doesn’t even flinch. Every strike lands lighter than it should, like my strength is still only half of what it needs to be. Ryker’s eyes never leave mine as he steadies my blows, like he’s anchoring me even when my magic can’t.
After I’ve done enough of those, we move on to a few self-defense moves.
Starting with trying to get Ryker’s grasp off my clothes.
Thankfully, this is another thing Trysten covered.
I grip my shirt with one hand and shove Ryker’s hand away with the other.
When he doesn’t budge, I scream—startling him—and try again. I’m successful the second time.
“Well played.” He chuckles, a hint of pride in his eyes. When he wraps his arms around me, memories of that first night in the gym flood my mind. I had been fighting our Bond, and he had somehow, in the course of a few minutes, managed to get behind my defenses.
“This feels familiar.” I whisper.
“This time I suggest you don’t pull me down on top of you.”
“That…was an accident. I learned from that mistake, trust me.”
“Any day now,” Professor Ainslyn says from the side.
Ryker’s arms tighten around my shoulders, holding my arms pinned at my side. I drop quickly, hook my foot behind his, and roll out from his grasp, spinning quickly to kick him in his manhood.
He dodges, but the look of surprise on his face has me giggling and parading around, teasing him. He has no clue that after that night, it was the first thing I learned from Trysten. I made a promise to myself to never be weak again. I meant it. Not just mentally, but physically.
Ryker looks at me like he’s never seen me before, and I savor it. It’s rare to surprise him.
“Well done, Princess,” Professor Ainslyn claps as he stands beside us. “It seems you’re not as far behind as I thought.” He smiles. “Let’s move on to swords.”