Anara expected darkness—but instead, she found color.
After the silence of the citadel, the Hollowgreen bloomed like a secret remembered by the earth itself. Hidden deep beneath the roots of shattered continents, it was a vast subterranean forest where every tree glowed softly from within—emerald light pulsing in branches like veins, fungi cascading in coral blues, and vines whispering lullabies in forgotten dialects.
Cael was uneasy. "Places like this don't survive the end of the sun," he murmured, brushing a fern that sang faintly at his touch. "Something protects it. Or... someone."
As they ventured deeper, the air grew thick with pollen and memory. The shardlight in Anara's palm sparked to life, casting a map across the undergrowth. It led them to a clearing shaped like an ancient seal—and seated atop its center stone was a woman.
She looked no older than Anara—but her gaze carried the weight of eons.
"I've been waiting," the woman said, rising.
"You're—" Anara began.
"The First Lightbearer," she finished. "Before the sun died, before the shards scattered, I carried the flame. And now, it calls to me again."
Her name was Liraen. She spoke in riddles at first, half-truths spun like threads around a deeper knowledge. She knew of the shards—how each one held a piece of not just light, but choice. Of the great betrayal that tore the world from the sky. Of the one called the Dimming, who had once walked beside her.
"You seek to restore the sun," Liraen said. "But that is not the true path. The world is not what it was—it does not need the old light. It needs a new one. Are you prepared to become something it has never seen?"
Anara felt the four shards humming—and the fifth pulsing more fiercely now, resonating with Liraen's presence. But there was no sixth shard here.
Instead, Liraen extended her hand—and the forest responded.
Dozens of orbs blinked to life in the trees like fruit ripening, and from them drifted voices—memories of every past bearer, their triumphs, their failures, their last breaths.
"This is the truth," Liraen said. "The sixth shard is not an object. It is a decision."
Anara stepped into the center of the seal. The voices flooded her mind—inviting her to become more than a bearer. To become the vessel.
And she accepted.
The light didn't enter her. It awoke inside her, as if it had always been waiting
The forest roared with song.
And far above, in towers of rusted glass and skyless ambition, the Dimming whispered to her generals:
"The light walks faster than we expected. Prepare the eclipse."
Would you like to dive into Chapter 10 next? We could explore the rise of the enemy, the mysterious "Eclipse Accord," or even see how Cael's past finally collides with Anara's path. The final shards are near, and the world is watching. 🌌💫