Lilith
Thornhill,
Vankar Island
Northern Isle Region,
Kingdom of Ashtarium
October 31st 6414
I leaned back against the sturdy fence that framed the large, open field, letting its cold wood press into my shoulders as I stared up at the sky. The field itself was silent, devoid of any animals, and the stillness wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. Above, the purple night sky stretched wide, scattered with tiny, twinkling lights that looked surreal. The stars here reminded me of the artificial skies I had seen in the sundomes, yet there was something distinctly different about this one—something natural, alive.
Back in the Black Forest, I had spent years beneath the eternal night. It was an unnatural, oppressive phenomenon, one that smothered the sky with an infinite, starless darkness. No moon, no glimmering points of light—just an unending void overhead. That emptiness had always felt wrong, as though it was a wound in the fabric of the world. Something about it had always tugged at me, unsettling yet familiar. Perhaps it was because I knew deep down it wasn't supposed to exist. And now, looking at the stars above, I was struck by how profoundly different this sky was. It was a natural night sky, radiant and endless, brimming with strange, shimmering essence that seeped into the air of this sanctuary.
This place was a Dungeon—one of the mysterious structures that dotted the world, each containing its own pocket reality filled with wonders and impossibilities. I was still in awe of them, still trying to wrap my mind around their nature. How many more Dungeons were out there, holding secrets I couldn't begin to fathom?
"There are many Dungeons out there in the world to explore," Aeternum's voice cut through my thoughts. The entity projected itself beside me, taking on the familiar image of my mother to address me. The sight of her face sent a pang through my chest, but it wasn't the comfort it used to be.
"Can you change your face?" I asked, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.
Aeternum regarded me for a moment before answering. "I take it this appearance no longer brings you comfort."
I watched as a wave of black ink coursed over Aeternum's form. In a moment, the visage shifted, and the being took on a new shape—tall, masculine, with golden hair, radiant skin, and piercing golden eyes. His towering height made him loom over me, an imposing yet graceful presence.
"What's this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"This is the original appearance my creator gave me," Aeternum replied, his voice steady and smooth.
I studied his new form carefully. "Is that so," I muttered. Even in this form, there was something otherworldly about him—an inhuman quality that reminded me he wasn't just some ordinary being.
"It seems there is a lot for both of us to learn," Aeternum said with a faint, enigmatic smile.
I turned my gaze away, focusing again on the fence and the field beyond. "Are they…" I hesitated, unsure of what I wanted to say. "Are they my family?"
Aeternum's golden eyes softened slightly. "My scan shows a 99.9 percent blood connection," he said simply.
I sighed, my mind spinning. So they were my blood after all. There was no denying it, not anymore. "So they've been waiting for me all this time," I murmured. "What if I never showed up at Thornhill? What if I never entered this damn Dungeon? What then? Would they have just kept waiting, year after year? Why didn't they come out and find me?"
Aeternum tilted his head slightly. "There was a fifty percent probability that you, Lilith Kain, would return to Thornhill seeking answers about your identity," he said. "The Avrams likely held onto that hope, believing you would eventually appear. As for why they could not leave the Dungeon… you already know why."
"The Eternal Night," I said quietly. The Eternal Night had been the downfall of the Children of the Light. Stripped of their primary source of power, they had lost the war. The eternal darkness left them vulnerable, diminished, and confined. But then I thought about myself. If I was truly part of the Children of the Light, why had the Eternal Night never weakened me? On the contrary, while I loathed it, I also felt a strange strength in its presence—a power that coursed through me in the same way it did with the Vampires.
"The Kain family is different," Aeternum said, his voice thoughtful. "Just as much as they are connected to the Children of the Light, they are also tied to the Children of the Night."
"Is that so," I growled, the edge in my voice sharp enough to cut through the stillness around me. Before I even sensed her presence, I heard the light tread of footsteps. Turning to my right, I saw Jennifer approaching. She wore a simple white shirt tucked into dark, tailored pants, and brown sandals that made little sound against the ground. Beneath the soft, silver glow of the moonlight, she was striking—her features clear and refined, the faint shimmer of her eyes catching the light. Her presence drew my attention in an almost magnetic way.
Now that my internal senses were fully active, I could perceive her strength more acutely. It wasn't just the physical beauty that stood out; it was the sheer force of her presence. Her aura was solid, composed, and it resonated with a level of power I hadn't fully appreciated before. Every breath she took, every small movement, seemed to carry a deliberate control. She wasn't like most people I'd encountered. No, Jennifer was something else entirely.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice calm, steady, yet somehow soothing.
"Better than before," I muttered, my tone rougher than I'd intended. I glanced away, uneasy at her piercing gaze. "What are you doing here?"
Jennifer came to stand close—close enough that I caught her scent. It was faint but pleasant, a natural fragrance that stirred something unbidden within me. Her presence, combined with that subtle scent, made her seem almost otherworldly. She radiated a quiet strength, and that calm confidence wrapped around me like a gentle current, almost easing my earlier tension.
"I thought you shouldn't be alone," Jennifer said softly. Her words held an undercurrent of warmth and understanding, as though she knew exactly how lost I felt. "Learning about yourself—your true self—can be quite the troublesome experience. Sometimes it's better to face it with someone who understands, or at least someone willing to listen."
Her words hung in the air, an invitation to let my guard down. I looked back at her, my gaze lingering on her steady expression, and for a moment, the weight of all my unanswered questions felt just a little lighter.
It was a small reprieve, a flicker of light that barely cut through the storm brewing inside me. My expression softened just slightly, enough to shed the burden of overt tension but not enough to reveal what I was truly feeling. The emotions melted from my face, leaving only a blank slate.
"We should head back to the real world tomorrow," I said, my voice measured and even. "We've been here too long."
Jennifer didn't seem fazed by my deflection. Instead, a knowing smile tugged at her lips as she tucked a stray lock of her long, chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. The gesture was graceful, almost teasing.
"Good," she said. "At least then you can finally take me on that date you owe me."
The words caught me off guard, freezing me in place. She'd brought it up again, this so-called date. I found myself unable to reply, a sharp tension creeping up my spine. I was caught between irritation and a strange, unfamiliar warmth. Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn't that.
****
When it came time to prepare, I realized there wasn't much to pack. Most of my old gear was gone—shredded during the upheaval of my awakening. What remained were the new clothes the Avrams had provided. Leah had been thoughtful, outfitting me with practical garments: sleek black pants, a gray long-sleeved shirt reinforced with armor segments across the chest and shoulders. They were lightweight yet sturdy, designed for both protection and mobility. The sacred, enchanted blade I had claimed early in the dungeon now rested at my side, secured in a new sheath crafted by Levi. It felt balanced, almost an extension of myself. My new boots, sturdy and well-fitted, completed the outfit.
As I adjusted the blade at my waist, the door opened, and Leah stepped in. She was dressed in a flowing yellow robe that shimmered faintly under the soft light. Her skin, a warm shade of brown with subtle golden undertones, seemed to radiate vitality, and her hair, styled in intricate braids, framed her face elegantly. She carried herself with poise, her every movement deliberate and graceful.
I caught myself staring. It wasn't just her appearance—though she was undeniably striking—it was how much she resembled my mother. The curve of her jaw, the glint in her eyes, even the way she stood. The resemblance was uncanny, and it made my chest tighten. Looking at her was like glimpsing a piece of a past I could barely remember. For a moment, I had to force myself to meet her gaze, grappling with the mixture of familiarity and unease that stirred within me.
"So you're really returning," Leah said softly, her voice tinged with both curiosity and something deeper that I couldn't quite place.
"Yes," I replied, the word coming out more clipped than I intended. I glanced at her, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words, and I found myself at a loss. What could I say to this woman who seemed both a stranger and a link to a past I barely remembered? The silence stretched out until I finally managed to break it, my words coming hesitantly. "Thank you for taking care of Ella, even though she's…"
I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. There was something about acknowledging the truth—speaking it aloud—that made it harder to say.
"Even though she's a Vampire and I am a child of the Light," Leah finished for me, her tone steady.
"That part," I admitted with a nod.
"It's no problem," Leah said, smiling faintly. "The House of Ashtarmel has always been a close ally of my family. We've long been connected by more than just bloodlines. We're here by the grace of King Rafael."
I blinked at that. So the King had known. He had known I had family here and said nothing. Then again, Sanders had brought us to Thornhill for a reason. Perhaps he, too, had known. The thought made my stomach tighten with frustration. Still, I forced myself to respond. "Is that so," I said, my tone neutral. "Anyway, thanks for taking care of her… when I couldn't."
Leah's eyes softened, and then, with a quiet intensity, she asked, "Do you love her?"
Her question caught me off guard, stopping me mid-thought. Love? Did I love Ella? My mouth opened, but no words came. I stood there, grasping for a response, while my mind raced. Did I even know what love felt like, truly?
Before I could find my voice, Leah added, "I believe the Princess loves you."
"We're best friends," I said quickly, a bit too quickly. "She's the only person in the world I give a damn about." It wasn't the full truth, but it wasn't a lie either. Ella meant more to me than I cared to admit, and that scared me. Leah nodded, a knowing look in her eyes.
"I'm glad you had love in your life," she said quietly, her gaze drifting off for a moment. "Love is such a precious thing. Especially the love between a child and a parent." Her voice faltered slightly, and I caught the faintest glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I wish you knew… I wish you knew how much you meant to your mother, my daughter."
Leah's words cut through me, striking something raw and vulnerable I hadn't even realized was there. She drew in a breath, and her next words carried the weight of years of longing. "What I wanted to tell you, Lily, is that my daughter, Sarah, loved you very much."
Her statement hung in the air, heavy with emotion, and I stood still, unsure how to respond. The words "my daughter" rang in my ears. Sarah—my mother—had loved me. And yet she wasn't here now. The ache of that absence pressed against my chest, and for once, I had no answer. I opened my mouth to respond, to acknowledge Leah's words and the emotion behind them, but nothing came out. No matter how much I wanted to say something meaningful, the words stuck in my throat. All I could manage was a nod, a quiet acknowledgment as I forced my expression back into its usual calm, trying to bury the storm of feelings her statement had stirred in me.
Mary Avrams, however, wasn't about to let us leave on our own. She insisted on showing us the way out of the Sanctuary and back into the Dungeon's Tutorial floor. Apparently, the Feyborns were still lurking beyond the Sanctuary's borders, and any of them spotting us alone might lead to trouble. As much as I longed to crush those creatures for what they'd done to Ella, I knew I wasn't ready. My newly awakened powers still felt foreign, unsteady—like trying to wield a blade whose balance I hadn't yet learned. A fight now wouldn't be wise. Mary leading the way was a relief, even if I didn't want to admit it.
We passed through the tranquil field where I'd spent so much time reflecting. The land was wide open, dotted with golden grasses that swayed in the faint breeze. Ahead, I noticed Levi tending to a small herd of magical beasts. The creatures varied in size and color, some with shimmering fur, others with scales that glinted in the sunlight. Levi moved among them with practiced ease, his large hands gentle as he checked their coats and made adjustments to their harnesses. He looked entirely at home in this role. Watching him work, it struck me just how grounded the Avrams were. They were more than guardians of this Sanctuary—they were caretakers of the land and its life. The farmland, the herds, the simple routine of their daily chores… it was all so mundane, so removed from the chaos and violence that had defined so much of my life. For a moment, I let myself wonder what it might feel like to live this kind of life—to know peace, even for a short time.
But that thought was dangerous. It was one of the reasons I had to leave. The longer I stayed, the more this life would call to me. The more I'd feel the pull to remain among the Avrams, to sink into the quiet rhythm of their days. And that wasn't an option. I couldn't afford to lose focus. I couldn't afford to give up everything I'd been fighting for. I glanced away from Levi and his magical beasts, steeling myself as we reached the gate.
It creaked slightly as we pushed through, the wooden frame worn from years of use. Beyond it, the serene sanctuary fell away, replaced by the untamed wildness of the Tutorial forest. The air grew heavier, the light dimmer, and the faint sounds of distant creatures filtered through the dense trees. Each step away from the Avram farm felt like a step away from something I couldn't quite name—something that could have been, but never would be. I adjusted the blade at my side and looked ahead, forcing my thoughts back to the path before me.
Mary led the way, walking ahead while chatting with Ella. It seemed the two had grown close during the time I'd been unconscious. Their conversation was easy and lighthearted, punctuated by Ella's occasional laughter—something I hadn't heard in a while. It was a strange thing to witness, that connection forming so quickly, but not unwelcome. Ella had been through a lot, and seeing her smile even a little was a relief.
As we moved along, I felt a pair of eyes lingering on me. Glancing to the side, I caught Neil and Ben stealing quick looks in my direction. When I turned toward them, their gazes darted away, but I wasn't about to let it slide.
"What?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended.
"Nothing!" they said in unison, their voices rising a touch too high. They sped up, slipping closer to Ella and Mary as if hoping the proximity would shield them. Their reaction wasn't lost on me. It almost felt like they were trying to avoid... something.
A quiet chuckle behind me made me turn. Jennifer was watching me with a smile tugging at her lips.
"Can you really blame them?" she teased. "I mean, with the way you look."
"The way I look?" I echoed, confused. Before I could dig any deeper into what she meant, she laughed again, leaving me to shake my head and let it go. There was no point in trying to decipher whatever she thought was so funny.
It wasn't long before we reached our destination. The portal stood before us, a massive pillar of light stretching upward into infinity. It shimmered and pulsed, casting an eerie glow that turned the surrounding forest into a dreamlike scene. Mary stopped a few steps ahead of it, standing off to the side and letting us approach the light first. She didn't speak, but her presence was steady, a calm anchor as we gathered around the portal's base.
My attention kept drifting back to her. It was hard not to look at her—my mother's younger sister, a living tie to the bloodline I barely knew. She wasn't just some passing figure in this journey; she was family. The realization made the air feel heavier. She was my aunt, yet she didn't look any older than I was. It was as if time had folded in on itself, leaving her untouched. That thought gnawed at the edges of my mind, raising questions I wasn't ready to confront.
As if sensing my gaze, Mary turned her head, her eyes meeting mine. There was something in her expression—a quiet understanding, a patient acknowledgment. She gave a small nod, a gesture that somehow felt more profound than words. I held her gaze for a moment longer before I took a step forward. Then another. The light from the portal grew brighter as I walked toward it. I didn't look back. When I reached the pillar of light, I stepped through, letting the glow envelop me.