Lucianus POV
Lucianus stood by the narrow window of his room, watching the other children play in the orphanage yard below.
Their laughter drifted up faintly through the glass.
Some were chasing one another through the grass.
Some were kicking a ball back and forth.
One little girl spun in circles until she fell laughing into the dirt.
Lucianus rested his hand against the cold stone beside the window and watched in silence.
He had seen them play like this every day for as long as he could remember.
And every day, he remained inside.
He was never allowed in the yard.
Never allowed to join the others.
When he was younger, he had asked why.
The answer was always the same.
Because you are an Augustinian.
Father Hugo said it like that should explain everything.
But it never did.
Lucianus did not know what Augustinian meant.
He did not know why it meant staying inside while the others ran free.
He only knew that the Sisters watched him differently than they watched the other children.
The other boys were scolded.
The other girls were comforted.
But Lucianus was watched.
Carefully.
Quietly.
As if he were something dangerous.
He hated it.
He wanted to be outside.
He wanted dirt on his boots and grass stains on his knees and sunlight on his face.
Instead, he had a room.
A bed.
Books.
Silence.
The door behind him opened.
Lucianus turned at once.
Sister Violette stood in the doorway.
Her face softened when she saw him.
"Lucianus," she said gently, "Father Hugo wishes to see you."
Lucianus straightened immediately.
"Yes, Sister."
She smiled faintly.
"Come with me."
He nodded and followed her into the corridor.
The orphanage halls were cool and dim, the stone walls lit by narrow windows and flickering candles in iron holders. The smell of wax and old wood lingered in the air.
Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked.
As they passed the common hall, two Sisters standing by the doorway turned to look at him.
Then another farther down the corridor.
Lucianus lowered his eyes.
They always looked at him like that.
Not with kindness.
Not with hatred either.
With something else.
Something he did not understand.
He tried not to think about it as he followed Sister Violette through the winding halls.
At last, they reached Father Hugo's chamber.
She opened the door and stepped aside.
"Go in."
Lucianus entered.
Father Hugo sat behind his desk as always, dressed in the robes of the church, his hands folded before him.
But today he was not alone.
A man stood beside the desk.
Lucianus froze.
The man was old, but he stood straight and tall like a pillar.
He wore gleaming armour worked in gold and white, polished so brightly it seemed to catch the light of the room and bend it around him. Upon his chest was the blazing sigil of the Order of the Living Sun.
Lucianus stared.
Even as a child, he knew that symbol.
Every child in the orphanage did.
The warriors of the Living Sun.
The defenders against the darkness beyond the Wall of the Living Sun.
The holy knights the Sisters spoke of in whispers.
And one of them stood before him now.
Father Hugo smiled.
"Ah, Lucianus. You are here."
Lucianus bowed his head respectfully.
"Yes, Father."
Father Hugo turned to Sister Violette, who still stood in the doorway.
"Leave us. And make certain no one comes near."
Sister Violette bowed her head.
"Yes, Father."
She closed the door behind her with a soft thud.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
Lucianus stood still as the armoured man looked him over.
The knight's face was lined with age, his skin weathered and marked by time. His hair was gray, cropped short. But his eyes—
Lucianus had never seen eyes like them.
They seemed to shine.
Not brightly, not unnaturally, but as if light itself lived behind them.
They were stern eyes.
Powerful eyes.
And strangely beautiful.
Father Hugo spoke.
"Lucianus, this is Sunlord Victarius of the Order of the Living Sun."
Lucianus's eyes widened.
A Sunlord.
Not just a knight.
One of the great lords of the Order.
Here.
For him?
He suddenly became very aware of how small he was.
Victarius stepped forward.
His armour barely made a sound.
"Boy," the Sunlord said, his voice deep and calm, "I have come to take you to the Order."
Lucianus stared.
"To the Order?"
Victarius inclined his head.
"You have been chosen by the light of the Living Sun to serve."
For a moment, Lucianus could not speak.
He had heard stories all his life.
Stories of shining warriors.
Of sacred warriors.
Of great battles fought beneath the Wall of the Living Sun.
The Order was everything noble.
Everything glorious.
And now—
He had been chosen.
A warmth spread through his chest so suddenly it almost hurt.
He was leaving.
Leaving the room.
Leaving the orphanage.
Leaving the watching eyes.
Leaving the whispers.
He would finally matter.
"When do we leave?" he asked quickly.
Victarius studied him.
The old knight's glowing eyes narrowed slightly.
"Are you not afraid to leave, boy?"
Lucianus did not even have to think.
"No."
The answer came out faster than he expected.
Victarius tilted his head.
"No?"
Lucianus shook his head.
"There is nothing for me here."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Father Hugo shifted uncomfortably behind the desk, but Victarius kept his gaze on the boy.
Lucianus swallowed, then spoke more quietly.
"I have never left this place. I have never been outside these walls except to pray. I have never had friends."
His hands tightened at his sides.
"If the Living Sun chose me, then I want to go."
The room was silent.
Victarius watched him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, the old Sunlord smiled.
It was not a warm smile.
But it was approving.
"Good."
He stepped closer.
"Fear binds weak men to small lives. If you are to serve the Living Sun, you must leave fear behind."
Lucianus nodded.
"Yes, Sunlord."
Victarius turned to Father Hugo.
"The boy is ready."
Father Hugo forced a smile.
"Yes… Yes, of course."
But Lucianus noticed something strange.
Father Hugo did not look relieved.
He looked worried.
The thought flickered through Lucianus's mind, but the excitement inside him drowned it out.
Victarius looked back at him.
"We leave at first light tomorrow."
Lucianus could barely contain his happiness.
Tomorrow.
By tomorrow, he would leave this room forever.
He imagined shining halls.
Training yards.
Knights in bright armour.
Purpose.
Belonging.
The future opened before him like the sunrise.
"Yes, Sunlord," he said.
Victarius nodded.
"Prepare yourself."
Lucianus bowed.
When he rose, the Sunlord was still watching him with those strange shining eyes.
This was what he had always wanted.
To be chosen.
To belong.
To become something greater.
As Father Hugo dismissed him, Lucianus stepped back into the corridor, his heart pounding with joy.
His old life would end.
A new one will begin.
Viggo POV
Viggo walked at the front of the column, a Lamp of Sunna held high in his hand.
Its golden light spilled outward in a wide circle, bathing him and the warriors behind him in warm radiance.
Beyond that light there was only darkness.
Not the darkness of night.
Not the darkness of a cave.
This was something deeper.
A living blackness that swallowed everything beyond the lamp's reach.
The Sunless Lands stretched around them like an endless void, silent and formless, as though the world itself had died there.
No stars shone overhead.
No moon watched from above.
There was no wind.
No sound except the crunch of boots on dead earth and the quiet breathing of armed men.
Even the air felt wrong.
Heavy.
Cold.
As though the darkness itself pressed against the edge of the light, waiting.
Viggo tightened his grip on the lamp.
The golden flame within the crystal chamber burned steadily, blessed by a priestesses of Sunna, its light said to repel the horrors of the Sunless Lands.
It was the only reason any man could walk this cursed place and survive.
Behind him, armored boots shifted over the dead earth.
There were twelve of them in all.
Veterans.
Chosen warriors.
Warriors of the Order of the White Wolf.
Each clad in white cloaks over steel mail, shields on their backs, axes and swords ready at hand.
No one spoke loudly here.
The dark swallowed courage as easily as sound.
At last, one voice broke the silence.
"Viggo," said Sigrid, walking just behind him, "are we near?"
Viggo glanced back.
Sigrid's face was pale beneath her helm, though her grip on her spear remained steady.
Even she was afraid.
Viggo answered honestly.
"I don't know."
His voice sounded small in the endless black.
He was about to say more when the lamp in his hand flared brighter.
Golden light pulsed through the crystal chamber.
Viggo smiled faintly.
"Sigrid," he said, "it seems Sunna has answered your question."
The men behind him stirred.
Hope moved through the group like warmth.
They pressed forward.
The lamp grew brighter with every step.
Then, in the distance, something emerged from the dark.
A shape.
Tall.
Pale.
Glowing.
A great white gate stood in the emptiness ahead, its surface shining softly like moonlight on snow.
Relief washed through the warriors.
One man laughed under his breath.
Another whispered a prayer.
They had found the checkpoint.
The gates of the White Wolf.
Ancient wards left behind to keep the darkness at bay.
Sanctuary.
Viggo approached slowly, raising the Lamp of Sunna toward the gate.
Golden light touched the white stone.
At once the gate shuddered.
Ancient runes flared.
Then the doors groaned open.
The men stepped closer—
and Viggo froze.
Beyond the gate there was only darkness.
No sanctuary.
No light.
Nothing.
The same endless black void stretched on beyond the opened gate.
His heart stopped for one terrible moment.
That was impossible.
The White Wolf's gates were wards against the dark.
There should have been light beyond.
Fire.
Stone.
Safety.
Not this.
Viggo stared into the blackness.
Cold fear crept into his chest.
"A voice spoke behind him.
"Viggo… what is that?"
It was Olaf.
Viggo turned.
Olaf was pointing into the darkness beyond the gate, his face pale with terror.
Viggo looked where he pointed.
There was nothing.
"Olaf," Viggo said slowly, "there is nothing there."
Olaf's breathing quickened.
"No… no, it's right there—"
Before he could finish, something moved.
A black shape shot out from the darkness beyond the gate.
It was fast, too fast to see clearly.
Olaf screamed.
A clawed arm seized him around the waist and yanked him forward.
He vanished through the gate in an instant.
"OLAF!"
The warriors surged forward.
Olaf's scream echoed once—
then cut off with a wet snapping sound.
Silence.
For one frozen second no one moved.
Then the darkness exploded.
Shapes rushed the gate.
Huge.
Twisted.
Blacker than the void around them.
Monstrous limbs slammed into the glowing barrier.
The white runes flared.
Cracks appeared instantly.
"SHIELDS!" Viggo roared.
The warriors locked together just as the barrier shattered.
The creatures burst through.
The first was man-shaped but horribly wrong, its limbs too long, its skin like moving shadow, its face a hollow mass with burning pale eyes.
It slammed into the front line.
A warrior screamed as claws tore through his shield and ripped open his throat.
Blood sprayed across the white gate.
Another creature leapt over the shields and landed among them.
Its jaws split unnaturally wide.
It bit into a man's face.
Blood and Bone were the only remnants of his face.
The warrior fell twitching.
"Fight!" Viggo shouted.
He thrust the Lamp of Sunna forward.
Golden light erupted from it in a wave.
The nearest shadow creature screamed as light burned through its body, tearing it apart into black ash.
Sigrid drove her spear into another creature's chest.
The thing shrieked and seized the shaft, snapping it in half before tearing into her shoulder.
She hacked at it with her axe, chopping into its neck until black blood sprayed over her armor.
The line collapsed into chaos.
Steel flashed in the dark.
Warriors screamed.
Creatures lunged from every angle.
Viggo swung his sword, severing one monster's arm.
The creature shrieked and lunged anyway, clawing at his chest.
Its claws tore through his mail and raked flesh beneath.
Pain burned through him.
He smashed the lamp's light into its face.
Its head burst apart in smoke.
Another warrior was dragged screaming into the darkness.
A second had his stomach torn open, entrails spilling across the ground.
Sigrid buried her axe in a creature's skull—
another leapt on her back.
Its claws punched through her armor.
She screamed as it ripped her spine out of her body.
Viggo roared in fury.
The Lamp of Sunna blazed brighter than ever.
Golden fire exploded outward.
Many creatures disintegrated instantly.
The remaining monsters recoiled, hissing.
For one desperate moment, the light forced them back.
The surviving warriors gathered around Viggo, bloodied and gasping.
There were only three left.
Viggo raised the lamp higher.
The golden light trembled.
Then the darkness ahead shifted.
Something stepped forward.
It was taller than the others.
Broad-shouldered.
Its form was made of living shadow.
Two pale eyes glowed in the blackness.
And it was smiling.
The thing lifted one hand.
Darkness gathered around it like smoke.
Viggo felt the Lamp of Sunna shudder.
"No," he whispered.
The shadow thrust its hand forward.
A wave of darkness slammed into the light.
The lamp flared blinding gold—
then cracked.
"No!"
The Lamp shattered.
Golden light burst apart.
Darkness rushed in instantly.
The warriors screamed.
Creatures descended on them from all sides.
Viggo swung wildly in the dark, feeling his blade strike, hearing shrieks and the crunch of bone.
Something seized his arm.
Another claw tore into his side.
He hacked one creature apart.
Another knocked him to the ground.
Boots slipped in blood.
Hands clawed at him.
Teeth tore at his armor.
He screamed and thrust his sword upward, piercing something above him.
Black blood poured over his face.
Then a claw drove through his chest.
Pain exploded through him.
His sword fell from numb fingers.
The shadow figure stepped over the carnage.
Around it, the last of Viggo's warriors were torn apart.
Screams echoed in the dark.
Then silence.
Viggo lay dying, blood filling his mouth.
The shadow stood above him, smiling with those pale burning eyes.
Viggo tried to move.
He could not.
The creature leaned close.
Its voice was soft.
Mocking.
"The light does not reach here."
"But soon the Darkness will reach your Wall."
Then darkness swallowed everything.