The air was not merely tense but crushingly heavy, forcing all within it to reflect — not by choice, but by an indescribable compulsion. They stood as though cast into the middle of nowhere, a void stripped of all familiar anchors.
At its center rose a vast golden beam of balance, its silver strings taut, its pan gleaming with an unnatural light. Where the thumb wheel should have been, there was instead a crown — its form shifting, its color beyond comprehension, as if no mortal eye could define it.
Encircling the beam were countless screens, each one flickering with visions that bled into the void. They shimmered like mirrors of guilt, restless and unrelenting, casting their revelations into the air.
Nyreal Lumen stood before them, back to them, her figure unyielding, arms crossed, eyes locked upon their truths. She did not waver; she did not blink. She watched, and the world around feeling alive.
"Monk Vaelen…" Lucen felt misplaced, confused, like he was being watched. "Where are we? What is this place?" He asked, his eyes still hovering around the screens.
"Welcome to Aequora, The Domain of Lumen, where judgment reigns, and sin is revealed." Monk Vaelen said.
"So the screens…" Lucen stammered, his eyes wide.
"Yes. They are the sins of those Princess Nyreal has marked for judgment, the ones she saw as beyond forgiveness." Headmaster Virell explained.
Instantly, Nyreal Lumen's head snapped a full turn, 180 degrees, toward the foreigners who had trespassed into Her domain. Her head twisted over them as She assessed them with Her stern gaze, cold and unyielding, as if stripping away their disguises. Only then did her body follow, adjusting with deliberate precision, every motion a silent judgment.
Something felt wrong. Nyreal Lumen bore Princess Nyreal's features, yet they were distorted in a way that defied nature. Her mouth was sealed — not closed, but absent, erased as though it had never existed. The smoothness where lips should have been was more terrifying than any horror movie.
It was not merely concerning; it was dreadful. Her gaze spoke in place of words, cold and absolute, and the absence of a mouth made her presence feel less human, more judgment itself made manifest in its true divine form.
"We are not supposed to be here, are we?" Lucen asked, unsure of what to do or think, even forgetting how to breathe normally.
"Whatever you do, do not look into Her eyes." Monk Vaelen warned.
Headmaster Virell sighed, disappointment evident. "I think it is a bit too late for that." He shook his head.
Monk Vaelen turned to Lucen who had already stared deep into Nyreal Lumen's eyes. "Oh, for the love of…"
…
It was darker. There was nothing. There was void.
For reasons he could not name, Lucen knew he was no longer breathing. His heart had ceased its rhythm, his chest no longer rose, and his nose was useless — no air entered, no air escaped, but the strangest part was that he was still alive. He was suspended in a silence beyond life, a stillness that felt eternal. For how? He had no clue.
"Lucen, the Light that Blinds. She asked that you be spared, for your heart did not linger with theirs. Why then do you beg that I cast you down alongside the sinners?" The voice thundered through the silence like a trumpet of doom, shaking the heart to its core. It was a judgment summons, a sound that made even the void itself tremble.
"Who are you? What do you want? Why am I here?" Lucen asked, confusion no longer able to describe what he was feeling.
"Why are you here? You came of your own accord, mortal. I did not summon you." The voice answered with a calmness that seared, its tone burning in the chest like fire contained. "You gazed where no mortal dared to look, and you sought judgment in the place where man was never meant to tread. So then I inquire of you…"
A wind rose from no known direction, carrying with it both chill and dread. Trepidation clung to the air as the voice thundered again: "Lucen, the Light that Blinds — mortal who feasts among the gods, son whose presence makes the heavens crumble in fear and the earth scatter in agony — are you willing to be judged?"
At once, a drum resounded, deep and final. The last word struck like a blow, flipping the heart and quivering the lip, as though the decree itself had already begun.
Lucen was confused; he hadn't planned for it, plus, was he not too young to be judged? Was there anything in his life to be judged on? I mean, he stayed indoors all day, no friends except Steven, and the only people he didn't see eye-to-eye with were his brothers, something he never asked for…
"Lucen…" Lumen interrupted the boy's thoughts.
Lucen turned only to find Her face centimeters from his.
"Why does your head breathe but your heart dream?" Lumen asked.
"Huh?"
"The war within is far more dangerous than what you are yet to face, child. When desire and duty are put on the same scale, man must choose whom he shall crown as the victor, with no room for regrets, for there are no take-backs in this game called life. But do not fret, no matter your choice, destruction is the path you shall tread, and there is no turning back."
Lucen tried to speak, but Lumen's finger silenced him. "No mortal has ever left my realm whole. Yet I have granted you and your company permission to depart. Do not waste your breath pleading for those already marked for doom."
"I know, but… Is it not against the rules for one to be judged before their appointed time?" Lucen asked, trying to reason with Lumen.
"Appointed time…?" Lumen scoffed. "I alone decide when I deem fit that a mortal be judged, and that is when Princess Nyreal marks them."
"Please… You said it Yourself, we are just mortals, mortals who were created selfish and inconsiderate, just as these victims are all nothing but children. Please, give them a chance to learn from their mistakes, give them a chance to grow." Lucen pleaded.
Lumen narrowed Her eyes, staring intently at the young prince. "Lucen, the Light that Blinds, I ask you — do not see the world with your mortal eyes, but with my divine ones. How many more times will man continue down this path? No matter how many chances they are given, they always return to the same ruin, as you yourself have said. Mortals remain mortals, even after they grow, always finding a way to stray from how the gods designed them to be.
Lucen, do you not think the world would be better rid of mortals? The world would be perfect. I am not asking you to join me, child. I am only asking you to permit me to cleanse them."
As She spoke, the screens from before appeared again, this time revealing heinous acts — each more vile than the last. "Humans are disgusting. Can you not see?" Lumen whispered as She appeared behind Lucen, Her hands resting upon the trembling boy's shoulders while his eyes remained fixed upon the visions
Lucen could not avert his gaze from the screens. They did not show only the students marked for judgment, but almost everyone across the world — people tortured, tormented, sold like objects. It was too much. He had thought such horrors were only exaggerated in films, but now he saw them happening to real humans. And compared to this, the sins of the students seemed almost small, though still vile.
"Look, child. Look at your world. This is what it means to see through my divine eyes. Nothing may be perfect, as you claim, but it does not have to be this way. Do you know how many innocents cry out to me in a single day, begging for justice? Imagine how I feel, forced to watch this without pause, every hour, every breath, for eternity — and unable to act." Lumen's voice dripped with disgust.
"The students… your victims… are they part of all this?" Lucen asked, struggling to steady his tone.
"One way or another, yes. This is not the first time they have treated a life-or-death scene as if it were a performance. And worse still, there are sins far more repulsive than theirs." Her eyes narrowed, the screens flickering with darker visions. "Do you wish to see…?"
"…No, thank you." Lucen said, having seen enough.
"You see why mortals must be eliminated?" Lumen asked as She moved from behind him.
"I do not see a problem with what you showed me," Lucen replied after a long, shaky breath.
"Excuse me?" Lumen turned, surprised.
"If the gods wanted a perfect world, as you claim, they would have made all mortals divine like themselves — or better yet, never created mortals at all." Lucen began, his confidence slowly returning.
Lumen narrowed Her eyes, crossing Her arms, listening intently.
"I believe the gods knew what they had created, yet allowed it to remain, no matter how repulsive. To prevent wickedness from continuing unchecked, they created death — and You came into existence as the manifestation of justice and judgment. But if You destroy mortals as You suggest, You render Yourself irrelevant. Your power becomes useless." Lucen said, standing his ground.
Lumen blinked slowly. "There is indeed a first time for everything. You not only defied the laws of nature to meet me, but you speak against the justice and rest I long to bring. You are an interesting one, going to such lengths for people you have never met, all because you despise pain and suffering. My only wish is that you remember your words, for you will need them more than I."
"What do you mean?" Lucen asked, his heart racing.
He looked into Lumen's golden eyes — and saw it: total apocalypse. Everything burning, bodies scattered across the land, souls bartered for mere minutes of life. His heart sank. At first he thought Lumen was trying to break him, to dishearten him, but none of it was false. It was all real.
The void around him began to shift and churn. The screens went blank as a violent ringing tore through the silence.
"Do not forget your words, Lucen, the Light that Blinds…" Lumen's voice slithered through the noise. "…for you will need them more than I. Destiny cannot be cheated, so treat this meeting as such. Embrace your destiny, and only then can you accept your fate. Good luck, Lucen — the Light that Blinds. Until we meet again, hopefully under different circumstances."
The world around Lucen swirled violently, his head pounding with a headache louder than drums, the ringing growing sharper in his ears, the screens blazing until they became blinding.
Lucen's eyes flew open with a gasp — just as Princess Nyreal's did. They turned to each other, breathless, the same question spilling from their lips: "What the-?"
Headmaster Virell and Monk Vaelen stormed into the infirmary, alarm etched across their faces.
"Thank the gods, you are finally awake," Headmaster Virell said, exhaling as though he had been holding his breath for hours.
"What happened in there? You seemed… dead," Monk Vaelen pressed, his voice tight with unease.
"Are the students awake?" Lucen asked at once, his tone urgent.
The two men exchanged a nervous glance, then turned toward Princess Nyreal. Without warning, they dropped to their knees — the sight making Lucen's stomach twist.
"My Princess… we beg you," Headmaster Virell pleaded, his voice breaking. "Please, have mercy on the students. Let their judgment fall upon me instead, for I am responsible for them… responsible for their disgraceful behavior."
Lucen sat frozen on the bed, confusion clawing at him. Had he not spoken with Lumen? Had She not heard his plea? Had She killed them all?
"Headmaster Virell…" Lucen whispered, his voice trembling. "What happened to the students?" He asked again, softer this time, as though the answer itself might shatter him.