Distance Is a Weapon
The separation was announced at dawn.
Not as exile. Not as punishment.
As protection.
Lumi stood beside Blake in the High Hall as the decree echoed through the vaulted chamber, its words dressed in silk and false concern. Courtiers bowed. Priests murmured approval. The lie moved through the room like incense—sweet, suffocating.
"For the stability of Noctyrrh," the herald proclaimed, "the Truth Bearer will reside temporarily in the Sanctum of Veils."
The pain struck instantly.
Lumi's vision blurred as truth surged violently, furious at being wrapped in ceremony.
This is a cage.
She did not look at Blake.
At twenty-two, she had learned how to stand still while something vital was taken from her.
Blake's voice followed the decree, calm and measured. "This measure ensures her safety while unrest settles."
The truth screamed.
He believes this will save you.
Lumi clenched her hands at her sides until her nails cut skin. Blood welled, grounding her.
When the hall finally emptied, silence crashed down hard and sharp.
"You promised me honesty," she said without turning.
Blake exhaled slowly. "I promised no unnecessary lies."
She faced him then, eyes bright with unshed tears. "You used me as proof. As leverage."
He did not deny it.
"They needed to believe distance would weaken you," Blake said. "If they're wrong—"
"And if they're right?" Lumi interrupted.
Blake's jaw tightened. "Then I would rather you be weakened and alive than whole and dead."
The truth inside her burned—but did not reject it.
That hurt the most.
The Sanctum of Veils lay beyond the inner city, a tower carved from pale stone that resisted shadow. As Lumi was escorted through its gates, she felt the night recoil, stretching thin between her and the man it now recognized as absence.
The pain worsened with every step.
Inside, the air felt sterile. Quiet. Wrong.
"This place dampens shadow," Lumi whispered, clutching the wall as a wave of agony rolled through her. "It's designed to isolate Truth Bearers."
The guards did not respond.
When the doors sealed behind her, the pain became unbearable.
She collapsed to her knees, gasping as truth surged wildly, no longer tempered by Blake's presence. Blood spilled freely now, staining the pale stone.
Far away, Blake felt it.
The night screamed.
Shadows tore through the palace corridors, shattering torches and cracking stone as the Dreadsword hummed with fury. Blake braced himself against the throne, breath ragged.
"She's hurting," he whispered.
The night answered—but it did not obey.
In the Sanctum, Lumi pressed her forehead to the cold floor, tears slipping free at last.
"This is what they want," she whispered hoarsely. "To remind me what I am without you."
The truth roared back, merciless.
Alone.
And across Noctyrrh, the cursed realm learned a brutal lesson:
Distance was not peace.
It was a weapon.