Kael's earliest memories were not of the wide, open skies or
glittering streets of the city above. His world had always been shaped by stone
and shadow, the underground labyrinth of Lumiria a refuge carved out of
necessity. The tunnels were uneven and jagged, their rough-hewn walls forever
damp with condensation. The air was tinged with the scent of iron and earth, a
constant reminder of their distance from the surface. Yet, to Kael, it was
home.
His mother's voice was the anchor in those early days, a
melody that wound its way through the oppressive silence of the tunnels. She
sang softly as she worked, her voice rising and falling in tones that glowed
faintly in the dim light. Lumirians' emotions colored their eyes, and his
mother's shimmered with deep purple when she looked at him—a color rich with
love and comfort.
"Never forget who you are, Kael," she said, brushing her
hand gently against his cheek. Her eyes shifted to a soft green as she added,
"Our emotions are our strength. They connect us to each other, even when the
world above tries to make us disappear."
Kael didn't fully understand her words at the time, but they
lingered with him, growing sharper as the years passed. His father, Erydan, was
less vocal about their heritage but no less proud. He was a silent protector,
his presence steady and reassuring as he led Kael through the hidden pathways
of Lumiria. Their world was dangerous, not because of the tunnels but because
of what waited beyond them: the regulators and their ceaseless patrols.
Erydan taught Kael how to navigate the shadows, how to sense
the faint vibrations of a nearby drone or the subtle hum of the system's
surveillance network. "The system doesn't see us as people," he said one night
as they crouched in the darkness, waiting for a patrol to pass overhead. "To
them, we're anomalies—flaws in their perfect design. But that's why we can
never stop fighting."
Kael listened intently, his green eyes wide as he soaked in
his father's lessons. Erydan's words were always calm but purposeful, carrying
a quiet strength that Kael admired. He wanted to be like his father—to protect
their people, to keep their light alive in a world that sought to extinguish
it.
But the light didn't always survive.
The day the regulators came for his father was etched into
Kael's memory like a scar. He was eight years old, hiding under the dining
table as Erydan faced the black-armored enforcers at their door. The room
smelled faintly of oil and metal, the scent of the regulators' presence
mingling with the warmth of their home.
"Stand aside, Erydan," one of the regulators said, his voice
cold and mechanical. "You've been flagged for subversion."
Kael's mother stepped forward, her purple eyes flashing with
anger. "We've done nothing wrong," she said, her voice trembling but defiant.
"We're just trying to live."
"Emotion disrupts harmony," the regulator replied. "And your
kind... refuses to comply."
Kael felt his chest tighten as he watched his father step
closer to the regulators, his silver-tinged gaze unflinching. "If you want me,
fine," Erydan said evenly. "But leave my family out of this."
The regulators didn't respond. Instead, they moved in
unison, their heavy boots shaking the ground as they seized Erydan. Kael
clenched his fists, his green eyes glowing brighter as his emotions surged. He
wanted to run to his father, to fight, but his mother's firm hand on his
shoulder held him back.
"Stay quiet," she whispered, her eyes shifting to blue for
sorrow. "Please, Kael."
Erydan turned his head, his gaze meeting Kael's for the
briefest moment. There was no fear in his eyes, only a fierce determination.
Then the regulators dragged him away, their shadows swallowing the light of
their home.
Kael never saw his father again.
The loss of his father left a void that Kael didn't know how
to fill. His mother tried to hold their family together, her voice a constant
presence in the tunnels. But the songs she sang were tinged with grief, her
purple eyes often clouded with silver. Kael threw himself into
learning—learning the paths of Lumiria, learning how to survive in a world that
saw him as an anomaly.
By the time he was a teenager, Kael had become a shadow
himself. He moved through the tunnels with silent precision, his instincts
honed by years of training. He worked with other Lumirians to secure supplies,
his green eyes sharp as he evaded the drones and patrols that hunted them. The
tunnels had taught him patience, discipline, and the strength to keep going,
even when every step felt heavier than the last.
Kael's mother passed when he was seventeen, her voice fading
into silence one final time. He stood alone at the edge of the underground
chamber where they laid her to rest, the soft glow of the Lumirian lights
casting long shadows across the walls. He clenched his fists, his emotions
swirling as his green eyes flickered briefly to blue.
"You'll see them again someday," an elder said softly,
placing a hand on Kael's shoulder. "But until then, fight for what they
believed in. Fight for all of us."
And Kael did. He became a leader among the Lumirians, his
calm determination guiding their efforts to protect their people. The
regulators' grip on the city tightened with each passing year, but Kael refused
to let them win. His emotions—his anger, his sorrow, his love—became the fire
that kept him going.
Now, as he stood at the edge of the Lumirian territories,
Kael adjusted the hood of his cloak and tightened his grip on the hilt of his
dagger. The city above shimmered with artificial light, its cold glow
unyielding. But Kael wasn't afraid. He was ready.
Tonight, he would take the first step toward uncovering the
system's secrets. He would fight for his people, for the memory of his parents,
and for a future where the Lumirians' light could shine freely.