There are no 'good' people.
In actuality, we are all constructs of a former mind. Yet, we are brought into this world as a blank canvas, shaped by our unfortunate circumstances. We are all slaves to a condition, one that forces us to strengthen our constitution, to differentiate our being, making us whole.
Though, as time goes on, we become unable to distinguish the esteemed qualities we've nurtured. We stop believing in an imperfect image, mutilating our souls for the promise of immortality.
Why?
There are no crossroads on the highway to destiny.
It is impossible for a person to be 'good'. Their soul will always be trapped on the 'other side' of the looking glass.
Only to ponder what comes after, for we are perfect beings, trapped inside of a faulty machine, and still, it is what we deserve.
...Why?
Because, there are no 'good' people.
And angels don't exist.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
This is the only time of year it's out in full effect, Light.
Its vast amounts of variations adorn the night sky with dazzling colors. Red, Blue, White, Green, and Purple.
Dozens of Lychinus's civilians have gathered in the kingdom's town square for the annual Light Festival, some sit and share the view with their loved ones, others dine at the various ale tents, but they all are here collectively as one, tonight.
They all are here to witness the power of the Light that has chosen them.
"Haha! Oh, come on! You're not even trying!" A blue-haired child remarked playfully, her body floating in the air gently, swiftly flying past her group of friends, who look on in awe.
"Snrk... Yeah, Dion! You can catch her!" Another child smirked, stifling back a chuckle. "Just use your Light!"
"...Oh wait. Pfft!" The other child said knowingly, the entire group bursting out into roaring laughter.
Dion's face scrunched in annoyance, he did his best to ignore their taunts, rolling up his sleeves, and balling his fists.
The blue-haired girl noticed his sudden shift in demeanor, and she raised an amused eyebrow. "No way. You're actually serious?"
She floated closer to the ground, and extended her hand. "Here, I'll make it easier for you, just grab my hand." She said with a smile.
Dion hesitated at first, the gesture genuinely surprising him. But... She's been pretty nice to him before, not like the others who poke fun at him all the time...
He widened his stance, took a deep breath, he leapt!
And...!
"Hup!" She immediately retracted her hand back. "Too slow! Haha!"
Dion face-plants onto the grass below him, he writhed on the floor, the pain immense enough to almost muffle the rest of the children's sounds of hysterical laughter.
He fought through it, and picked himself up, catching a glimpse of his 'friend's' feverish amusement. Dion could only shake his head, biting his lip as he endured their jeers.
Finally fed up, Dion huffed, then stormed off into the other direction, covering his face to hide the tears that were swelling.
"Come on, Dion! It was just a joke!" The blue-haired girl shouted, but there were still traces of laughter in her voice.
As their mocking voices finally faded in the background, Dion found himself far removed from the crowd at the Light Festival, and all alone in a secluded area of the capital, he could see the grand castle, it's towering stone wall worn by age.
But, the banner of Lychinus still flew high above all else, it's golden star symbol illuminated by the Light in the sky.
Dion stared at the banner, a yearning deep in his eyes. Until finally, he could not hold the tears back any longer, he quietly climbed onto a bench nearby, and wept.
A gust of wind swept past, scattering confetti along the empty cobblestone path, accompanied by the sound of cheers. It's tradition for Lighters with flying techniques to drop confetti from the sky—when all of Light's combine for 60 seconds to form the 'Golden' Light.
...Guess he missed it.
...
"Dion?" A familiar voice called out to him. "Where'd you go? Your mom was worried sick, kiddo."
He knew that voice, it's his grandfather. But to be honest, he's the last person he wants to talk to right now, he doesn't want to be seen by him like this.
Dion didn't respond, just clutching his shorts tightly as he attempted to quell his tears. But his grandpa knew that expression, he knew his grandson.
He took a seat beside him, crossing his legs, and gazed at the sky above, he couldn't hold back a slight smirk, the Light was gorgeous.
"...They were messing with you again, eh?"
Dion just blinked, but his face told the entire story. He took a few short breaths, still trying to calm down. "It's... It's not fair. What's so bad about me, huh? I've been nothing but good, and still I don't get chosen! Everyone else gets to run around with their Lights! Most of them will probably even become Luni! What about me!? I'm just gonna be nothing! That's all I'm good for!" Dion cried, choking out his words amidst his sobs.
His grandpa didn't respond right away, his expression was silent, as well was the area, broken only by Dion's quiet, stifled sobbing.
"...It is beautiful, isn't it?" His grandpa noted, shaking his head in disbelief.
Dion raised his eyebrow, and glanced at him—confused.
"But you ask me, that's all it'll ever be good for." He turned and pointed towards the festival. "You see those people over there? Bunch of dullards, the whole lot of them. Twenty percent of 'em are probably perverts."
Dion giggled at the comment.
"Never had to fight for anything a damn day in their life, they have Light, but don't have any color." He turned back, and looked Dion in his eyes. "It doesn't matter how bright the sun shines, or how many Lights are in the sky,"
He brings his finger to Dion's chest. "You. It's people like you Dion, who don't lose their will, who are brave enough to hope."
"...It's people like you, who truly, light the kingdom."