Chapter 38 – The Time That Burned
Lumina walked through the city that once cast her out.
Her steps touched the cobblestone streets that had once carved a sense of strangeness into her skin. No one recognized her. She was no longer the little girl locked away in a spell, no longer the cursed child hidden from daylight and the call to prayer at night.
She walked slowly, inhaling the scent of soil, windows, and walls—searching for the fragments of herself that had once been forcibly erased.
Ilior rested within her soul in calm silence, yet the fire inside her kept boiling.
"Are you angry?" Lumina asked softly.
"More than that," Ilior replied. "But your body doesn't tremble. You... are too calm."
"I've already burned long ago. What's left... is only embers that know where to go."
They arrived at the old houses that had once been the center of the seal—the walls that had imprisoned the median of life within her body. Once, these places had been sacred. Now, they were nothing but ruins and names that had been forcibly erased from memory.
Cold night fell. The sky darkened into pitch black.
Lumina opened the door to the witches' council room—without knocking, without asking permission. Voices halted. Twelve old witches stood, their hands moving instinctively, weaving spells in the air. Yet, none dared to strike first.
"Lumina?" one of them spoke. "You..."
"Still alive," she replied.
Their eyes locked onto hers—the silver eyes they had once sealed with gentle curses and spells.
"You sealed me. But I grew. Outside of you. Without your control. Without your blessing."
One elder stepped forward. He had once carried Lumina as a baby.
"We saved you. You were born unbalanced. The median inside you was too deep. Too... wild."
"You were afraid. Not saving me."
Her hand rose. The median of life emerged—not fire, not light, but an unseen current that separated the false from the true.
The median danced in the air, tendrils of energy piercing through their robes. It did not wound, but touched—unveiling their souls one by one. Their bodies remained whole, but their spirits were stripped bare.
They saw their own faces. Their own fears. The sins they had hidden behind the name of protection.
Ilior's voice rang inside her. "You are tormenting them, not killing them."
"I am not a judge," Lumina replied. "I am a mirror of how they treated me."
One elder collapsed to the floor, weeping—but without tears.
"I remember… when you were born, the sky shook. Everyone thought it was a sign of the demon's return. But I… I knew there was something more. And I stayed silent."
Lumina's gaze fixed on him. "Silence is the first seal. You smothered the truth."
Others kneeled. Some still clung to their pride. Some cracked under the median that sliced through their false convictions.
A frail old woman shrieked, "You threaten the order! Without that seal, you will bring destruction!"
"I bring no destruction. I uncover what you buried. What is broken is not because of me, but because you refuse to see."
Outside the room, people began to gather. They heard the voices, felt the cracks in the city's spiritual dimension.
Young ones saw Lumina and whispered, "Who is she?"
"The Sealed One. Returned."
The median of life spread like a thin mist—not burning, but piercing the conscience. The city began to tremble, yet nothing collapsed. Only the false constructions they had worshipped for generations fell away.
Ilior drew in a breath within Lumina. "You are disturbing the order."
"I am only returning time to those who burned it."
Someone in the crowd threw a stone, hitting the wall. The sound echoed.
She turned her gaze.
"Once, you hid me. Now, you want me gone? What's the difference between then and now?"
Silence. No answer.
A little girl stepped forward. Her hair was pitch black, her eyes faintly glowing silver.
"I'm like her," she whispered.
Lumina knelt, taking the girl's hand. "Don't let them close your eyes. Don't let them seal your median."
Ilior shivered. "That child's median... it's wild."
"Just like mine once was," Lumina said.
Two elders tried to attack. But the median of life coiled and twisted their magic, laying bare the motives behind the spells.
The magic wasn't defense—it was fear. And fear had no foundation. Thus, the spells crumbled before they touched the ground.
Lumina stood tall.
"You can keep calling me a threat. But I am not the one who began this ruin. You taught generations to fear what is different, what does not meet your expectations or desires."
"What do you want, Lumina?" asked one of the weakened witches.
"Nothing. I came back so you could see."
"See what?"
"That I am still here. Still alive. Not insane. And the median within me does not bring an end—but understanding."
She walked out. People parted before her.
In the sky, there was no moon. Yet the median in Lumina's body shone.
Ilior spoke, "You are not just a vessel of the median. You are its body. I begin to understand why the seal could not hold you."
Lumina turned toward the city's center—once the place of her sealing ceremony.
There, the sacred pillars began to crack—not because she destroyed them, but because they could no longer deny that the median had returned. Not as a curse. But as a mirror.