As the endless march of time carried the solar system along its celestial path, so too did Solaris spin relentlessly on its axis. The sun crept above the horizon again, spilling its cursed light over the land, and I found myself once more confined within the cramped, suffocating walls of a carriage. The burning rays never had to touch me directly for me to feel their corrosive effect—my skin prickled as if infused with fragile glass, every muscle weighed down by an invisible malaise.

  Gripping the sword in my hands felt like a cruel exercise, the familiar metal growing heavy and foreign as if my very senses rebelled against it. Even the sharpest scents dulled, the world seeming to tilt and twist in an unsettling, alien rhythm. I was alone—trapped between the oppressive light of day and the yearning for darkness—clutching at shadows for comfort.

  At least there was a sliver of promise in the hours to come: two mages assigned to accompany me, their presence a fragile tether to sanity amidst this endless twilight. Until then, I was left with the oppressive silence of the carriage and my own restless thoughts.

  Boredom gnawed at the edges of my mind, and in that creeping silence, I found myself creating art.

  The world revolves around me,

  a vampire in distress,

  unable to free thee,

  unable to impress.

  She pushes the blame on another vampire,

  Hypothetical in nature,

  But very real in a temper.

  May he be forever a useless creature.

  Death through fire.

  The verses were crude, the rhythm awkward, but they gave voice to the storm within me—the simmering rage, the bitter resentment, the hollow longing. No one was there to judge, no one to interrupt. Just the quiet tick of time and the endless curse of the burning sun outside.

  Vampire… temper… The words still rang hollow in my mind, an awkward fit for what I wanted to express. I spent two long hours pressed against the cold carriage wall, replaying the poem over and over, hunting for a better phrase—something sharper, something darker, something truer. But no matter how much I twisted the lines, nothing felt quite right. Time slipped away unnoticed, a silent thief in the dim light of the carriage, until suddenly the jolting halt of the wheels snapped me back to reality.

  The door was flung open, and blinding sunlight poured in like molten fire, swallowing everything whole. The air itself seemed to freeze. My breath caught, my heart stuttered, and a bitter curse tore from my throat.

  “Ahh, sh—”

  Then nothing.

  The sun was my enemy incarnate, a merciless, burning god that mocked my very existence. I hated it for how it knocked me off my feet, for the cold hardness of the floor that met my head, for the awkward, stumbling first encounter I was about to have with the two mages.

  Darkness claimed me again only after the sun dipped below the horizon, pulling me back from that numb void where dreams refused to come. I awoke to the soft rustling of curtains being drawn back, ignorant of my true nature—ignorant of the vampire they had rudely exposed to sunlight. I could hardly blame them, though. They didn’t know.

  Beside me sat the younger of the two, a girl whose innocent presence sent a confusing flood of emotions crashing through me once more.

  “Hi?” My voice cracked with surprise, higher than intended.

  “By the gods, you’re finally awake!” she gushed, breathless and bubbling with concern. “I was so worried! Why did you just… fall over? Are you hurt? Can I help? Please tell me if you need anything!”

  Her rapid-fire questions tumbled out without pause, and I barely had a moment to process the torrent. Blue hair framed her youthful face, her eyes shining with earnest kindness—a kindness so foreign to this dark world I inhabited.

  “My name’s Luna Bauer,” she said with a bright smile. “You can call me Luna or Lu. I’m from the Alzaroth province, way up north.”

  She extended her hand eagerly. I hesitated, then accepted it, my fingers brushing hers with reluctant curiosity. Testing the boundaries of our connection, I squeezed hard, trying to elicit pain—but there was none. Her grip held the unmistakable warmth of life itself, the pulse of the seed of life shining through. It was a strange comfort, and against all my instincts, it calmed me.

  “Hi,” I replied softly, a tentative smile lifting my lips. “I’m Lucinda. It’s… a pleasure.”

  “Both our names start with Lu!” she exclaimed, eyes sparkling. “Can I call you Lu? Or Lucy?”

  The question caught me off guard. Her easy friendliness was almost alien in this harsh world, yet I didn’t recoil. Instead, a warmth bloomed within, fragile but genuine.

  “Uhm… sure,” I answered, allowing myself the small grace of acceptance.

  “Yay! My first friend in the army!” Luna declared with childish glee, a note of triumph in her voice that felt oddly precious.

  Friendship was something I had never known, and the sudden prospect of it unsettled me more than I cared to admit. I said nothing, turning my gaze toward the older mage, her presence a cold shadow beside Luna.

  “And you are?” I asked, voice dipping into caution.

  Her reply was a blade in the dark: “That doesn’t concern you.”

  Her words struck like ice, seeping through the floor beneath me and sinking deep into the core of Solaris itself. Such sharp disdain, wielded without cause, left a bitter taste. Yet I forced a tight, wry smile and turned back to Luna, deliberately shutting out the frostbitten glare of the other woman.

  “Hey Luna,” I called out, my voice low and conspiratorial, “do you want to have some fun with a few others?” The boy I’d met yesterday flitted at the edge of my thoughts—would he come? I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter.

  “I’d love to!” Luna’s bright smile was a sharp contrast to the shadowed world we moved through. For once, I had someone beside me—not just a shadow or a servant, but someone alive, vibrant, and unburdened by the weight I carried.

  Before she could bask too long in the moment, the older mage’s voice cut through, sharp as a blade.

  “You’re supposed to be soldiers, not children fooling around. Get to sleep. Tomorrow could be dangerous.”

  Luna, ever the tempest of youthful defiance, stuck out her tongue and darted for the door. The older woman’s cold, unreadable stare remained fixed on the carriage wall opposite, as if the world beyond was already dead to her.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “What a bore,” Luna muttered under her breath. “Since I met her yesterday, it’s always soldier this, soldier that…” Her words hung in the air, carrying a fragile loneliness I could feel deep in my bones. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to reach out, to shake her from the weight of that solitude.

  “Yeah,” I said softly, “she’s not exactly the easiest person to be around.”

  Then an idea sparked, lighting a rare warmth inside me.

  “Hey, have you seen that large tree as we arrived here?”

  Luna’s eyes lit up with recognition.

  “There’s one on the west side of the camp, right over there,” she said, pointing to a lone hill where a tall, skeletal tree clawed at the sky.

  “The fun begins there,” I whispered, already moving, the sudden rush of freedom rushing through my veins. Luna was quick to follow, our footsteps pounding the earth beneath as we slipped past silent tents and shadowed corners.

  A strange, infectious laughter bubbled up from deep inside me, an idiotic joy I hadn’t felt in a lifetime. Luna matched it with her own, light and carefree. For once, I was not the predator or the prisoner, not the schemer or the haunted soul.

  Perhaps I was trying to reclaim a fragment of the childhood I never had. Or maybe I simply craved the innocence of running wild, unburdened by the chains of power and obsession.

  Hand in hand, when Luna could no longer keep pace, we sprinted until we reached the tree. I spotted a nearby torch, still glowing faintly, and snatched it quickly despite a disgruntled guard’s protest.

  With a savage grin, I set the dry branches ablaze. The flames roared hungrily, licking the night sky, twisting into grotesque shadows. The air filled with smoke and the bitter scent of burning wood—an echo of chaos.

  “Are you sure this is wise?” Luna’s voice wavered with unease. “The fire could spread… like in the year 405. That fire was small too, but it consumed everything.”

  Her knowledge surprised me. Maybe she could help unravel the secrets I’d found buried in old history books. Maybe.

  “What happened around two hundred years ago? Was there something… notable?” I broke the rhythm of our easy conversation, curiosity gnawing at me.

  Luna’s eyes widened slightly, her weight shifting nervously from one foot to the other, like a trapped bird unsure whether to speak or stay silent.

  “A few kings were born then… Louis the 56th, for example.”

  My brow furrowed in disbelief. Who even remembers kings with numbers that high? The whole thing sounded absurd, but Luna’s gaze darkened as she averted her eyes, suddenly carrying a secret she wasn’t willing to share.

  “Luna… please,” I urged gently, careful not to sound accusing. I didn’t want to be that kind of friend—demanding, invasive—especially not to someone so young and fragile. “If you know anything …”

  “…I’m sorry. I can’t.” Her voice was quiet, weighted with something unspoken.

  I exhaled slowly and turned back to the burning tree. If she didn’t want to tell me tonight, so be it. The information wasn’t urgent; if she knew it, others probably did too. And if not, I could always ask again—people sometimes change their minds with time.

  “It’s alright,” I said softly. “Hey, I thought you were a mage, not a historian?”

  Luna shrugged, biting her lip before answering.

  “Uhm… they’re linked. I specialize in magic that’s based on history, mostly.”

  I frowned, picturing some strange spellcasting—maybe she catapulted old dusty books at enemies or summoned ancient spirits of forgotten kings.

  “And what kind of magic is that, exactly?” I pressed, hoping for some clarity.

  She glanced around, voice dropping conspiratorial.

  “It’s a secret. Only the higher-ups in the army are supposed to know.”

  That struck a chord. She was clearly valuable, but maybe fragile—her secrets guarded like delicate glass. If they ever fell into the wrong hands, she might be a liability rather than an asset.

  I shrugged again, none the wiser.

  Just then, voices rose behind us—three teenagers laughing and cheering. One was the boy with the bizarre name from yesterday. The other two were strangers to me, as expected.

  As they approached, all eyes turned to me for introductions.

  “Luna, this is… uh… this is… Kataschama?” The boy’s frustration was palpable. I wasn’t helping with his complicated name.

  “Just call me Kat,” he said quickly. “This is Joel,” he pointed to a round-faced kid no older than ten, “and Julius.” Julius was thin, his gaze fixed oddly on the burning tree, as if mesmerized by the flames.

  I nodded at my fellow arsonist, then turned my attention back to the fire’s hypnotic dance. Thankfully, it hadn’t spread far; a few soldiers nearby sipped beer, oblivious or too drunk to care. I recognized one from a poker game and gave him a lazy wave—he was too far gone to notice.

  “So… what now?” I asked, realizing I’d made no plan beyond this reckless spark.

  Luna was quick to speak, practical as ever.

  “I thought you had a plan?”

  Fair enough. I had gathered this motley crew under the pretense of fun, but really, it was just a chance to watch the flames consume something—anything.

  “No, not really,” I admitted, a faint grin tugging at my lips. “Honestly, I just wanted to watch a big fire.”

  That, and the secret I’d tucked away in the burning dress draped on the tree’s branches.

  Kat’s eyes gleamed with mischievous delight.

  “We have an arsonist here! How about we tell scary stories while the fire burns?”

  I wondered what these kids considered frightening. I held back the darkest tales I could share—those from purgatory that would freeze their blood—saving those stories for another night.

  No one else had a better idea, so we settled on the grass, eyes flickering between the flames and each other. Kat cleared his throat, preparing to spin the first tale, the fire crackling ominously behind us.

  “Have you ever heard about the prophecy of doom?” Kat began, voice low and full of mock drama. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the name.

  “That’s just an urban legend,” Luna said quickly, though I noticed the color draining from her cheeks, her smile faltering.

  “That makes it even scarier, doesn’t it? Alright then…” Kat grinned, eyes gleaming in the firelight. “In the woods, there’s a monster with unimaginable intelligence and power. It escaped purgatory through some vile trick and is now plotting to overthrow every government in the world. It’s a master of disguise, can be anyone—and hides among the elite. But here’s the worst part… it drinks… the brains of humans to get stronger until it’s ready to devour the whole world.”

  I burst out laughing, ruining his spooky setup. Brains? Drinking brains? I pictured some monster awkwardly trying to suck through a straw in someone’s ear.

  “Wow, you told it all wrong,” Luna shot back, scolding him with a serious look.

  “Then do it better,” Kat challenged, shrugging with a sheepish smile.

  “Alright…” Luna took a deep breath, her voice dropping to a whisper.

  “Two hundred years ago, an oracle made a prophecy about the world’s end. The daughter of a god would come to this world and try to open the gates of purgatory for every monster inside. She’s supposed to look human but isn’t. She feeds on us, shows no mercy, and will be responsible for thousands upon thousands of deaths—unless the heroes who rise to stop her succeed. If you ever see her… run. Because she will be the end of the world.”

  The fire flickered, casting shadows over our faces. My heart skipped a beat, the story hitting far too close to home.

  Oh… fuck.

  My reputation had already spread farther than I thought—making me, apparently, one of the most feared people on this planet.