The wind carried voices that weren't voices.
It sounded like the breath of the world itself — long, tired, and ancient.
I had wandered through the ruins for what felt like hours, my mind fogged, my pulse too steady for someone who should have been terrified. The sky above Naijara shimmered with faint gold cracks, as if the heavens had fractured and no one bothered to repair them.
Every step echoed against the earth, and for a moment, I wondered if I still had weight — if I still existed in the way humans did.
The memory of the ritual still haunted me — flashes of faces, blood, light, and the whisper that had named me **Lucenara**.
I looked down at my hands. The markings had dimmed since that first awakening, yet faint light still pulsed beneath the skin — like veins filled not with blood, but with molten starlight.
Then — a sound.
Soft.
Human.
Close.
"**Lucky!**"
The voice pierced through the fog. I froze. That name — my old name — shouldn't exist here. It didn't belong in this world.
I turned sharply, scanning the ruins. The air shimmered, and from behind a collapsed stone pillar, a boy emerged.
He couldn't have been more than sixteen. Ash-gray hair, eyes the color of cold amber, and a face that carried the same blend of exhaustion and stubbornness that I felt inside myself. His clothes were simple — a worn shirt, leather straps across his shoulders, and a faint silver emblem hanging from his neck.
"Lucky," he said again, panting slightly, "what are you doing here? I've been looking everywhere for you."
I just stood there, staring.
He frowned. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you hit your head again."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. My mind raced, trying to fit the impossible pieces together.
He knew my name.
He looked at me like I'd always been here.
Like I belonged.
"Who… are you?" I asked finally, the words feeling heavy in my mouth.
He blinked, surprised, then sighed in that weary, familiar way siblings do.
"Really? You're joking again?" He walked up and grabbed my arm. His touch was warm, *real*. "It's me, Kael. Your brother. Did the shock make you forget your only family?"
Brother.
That word hit harder than I expected.
Kael.
He said it like it was something I should have remembered — something precious.
I wanted to tell him the truth — that I wasn't the Lucky he thought I was. That the one he knew had probably died the moment I appeared in this body. But something deep in my bones — or maybe in this new body's bones — told me to stay silent.
The air shimmered again, and for an instant, I saw something behind Kael — faint golden threads connecting him to the air around him, to the light above, and… to me.
"What happened here?" Kael asked, his tone quieter now. "You wandered off right before the ritual. Everyone was panicking — then the storm came, and the Church's barrier shattered. But…" He smiled faintly, relieved. "It's okay now. The **Goddess of Light** has blessed us. The Church said Her radiance purged the corruption."
I stared at him.
Blessing?
The word sounded wrong in my ears. The last thing I saw before waking up in this world was a creature made of shadows whispering in a dead language. If that was a blessing, I didn't want to know what a curse looked like.
Still, I nodded slowly. "Right… the blessing."
He seemed satisfied with that. "Good. Then let's go home before the night bells."
"Home," I repeated softly, tasting the word. It felt foreign. Empty. Yet, beneath it, there was warmth — not mine, but Lucky's. This body's memories stirred faintly: a small house near the southern cliffs, a cracked window, two wooden beds, laughter echoing in a place too small to contain it.
Kael noticed my hesitation. "You really did hit your head." He grinned and nudged me lightly. "Don't worry. You'll remember once you've eaten something. Come on."
We started walking.
The ruins gave way to narrow streets lined with half-collapsed stone homes. The people we passed bowed slightly when they saw the emblem on Kael's neck — a sign of the **Church of Radiant Dawn**, if the name he mentioned was true.
Everywhere I looked, I saw contradictions.
People smiling through exhaustion.
White banners fluttering over burnt houses.
Priests preaching light in places where shadows lingered like stains.
The "blessing" Kael spoke of had left the world quiet — but not peaceful.
When we reached the house, I paused at the doorway.
Inside was dim light, wooden walls patched with care, and the smell of old incense. Kael went straight to the hearth and started stirring something in a pot.
"Eat first," he said. "Then you can tell me why you wandered into the ruins again."
I sat, watching him. There was something grounding about the sound of boiling water, the simple rhythm of normal life. After everything that had happened — dying, awakening, being renamed by something that shouldn't exist — this small moment felt surreal.
"Kael," I said finally, "how long has it been since… our parents died?"
He froze. For a second, his shoulders trembled.
"…Seven years," he said quietly. "You were sixteen. I was nine. The Church took us in after the first descent."
"Descent?"
He turned, confused. "You really don't remember? The day the sky cracked and the Fallen came down. Half the world burned. The Goddess sealed them away and marked us as survivors."
I said nothing.
The markings on my skin pulsed faintly in response — as if mocking the words *Goddess* and *light.*
Kael's voice softened. "It's okay, Lucky. You don't have to remember everything. You just need to remember that you're not alone."
He smiled then — pure, hopeful, unaware of how fragile that light truly was.
But something in me — or perhaps in *Lucenara* — stirred uneasily. I could feel the air around us humming faintly. The walls, the fire, the shadows… all watching, waiting.
The moment Kael turned away, I looked down at my reflection in the bowl of water beside me. The golden glint in my eyes had returned — faint, like a hidden ember. And in it, I saw a reflection that wasn't entirely mine.
The whisper came again.
Soft. Cold. Amused.
> *"You wear his face well."*
My pulse froze.
> *"This world bows to false light. The real one sleeps beneath its altar."*
The reflection rippled, and for a moment, I saw a cathedral made of bone and flame. A thousand angels chained to their own halos, singing in silence.
I blinked — it was gone.
Kael turned back, holding out a bowl of stew. "Lucky? Are you okay?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
He handed me the bowl. "Tomorrow, we'll visit the Cathedral. Maybe the High Priest can heal your memory. They say the Goddess herself speaks through the altar now."
The word *altar* echoed in my skull like a bell.
Something deep inside me whispered that the Goddess of Light wasn't what she appeared to be. That the "blessing" Kael spoke of was a veil — thin, luminous, and hiding something ancient beneath it.
But I said nothing.
Not yet.
As the night settled over Naijara, I lay awake, watching the faint cracks of golden light move across the ceiling. They pulsed slowly, like veins in the sky.
Kael slept beside me, breathing softly. Innocent. Unaware.
I turned my gaze toward the window, where the stars burned in unnatural patterns. They formed the shape of wings — broken, burning, endless.
And in that silent hour, I whispered the truth I couldn't share:
> "I am not Lucky."
The air didn't answer — but the light did. It flickered once, as if acknowledging me.
Outside, somewhere far beyond the horizon, a bell tolled — deep, metallic, and wrong.
The night bent with it, and a whisper brushed against my mind.
(Lucenara).