Mikhail entered his room and immediately flopped onto the bed.
The same stone ceiling. The same small crack in the left corner. Nothing had changed. Too many mysteries, he thought.
He was nine years old. Too young to remember anything about himself before the Atrium Lumen. He knew this because every time he tried to remember, his mind seemed to stop in front of a blank wall. No voices. No faces.
All he knew was one thing: his life always began here.
There used to be Custos Willie. Large hands, a flat voice, a routine that never changed. Wake, eat, study, sleep. No questions. No answers.
Ever since he entered Lumina Grade One, everything changed. Willie no longer came. No one explained where he went. It was as if a person's existence could simply cease without a reason.
Mikhail stared at the bookshelf in the corner of the room. He had read almost everything, the history of the Atrium, fairy tales, story of kings and saints. But it all felt distant. Like stories of another world that had never truly touched his life.
It's getting away from me, he thought.
He didn't know exactly when it happened. But he knew now, he rarely asked, rarely hoped. It was safer that way.
But Rev's voice flashed through his head.
The world is vast.
Mikhail closed his eyes. The word "vast" sounded like an invitation... and a threat at the same time. If he went out, if he followed them, maybe he would find something. Or maybe he would lose the only place he had ever known.
His heart beat faster. For the first time, he realized that even silence was an option.
Mikhail rose from the bed more slowly than usual. He took a breath, then removed his cloak and laid it back on the mattress. The thick fabric lay neatly folded, as always, as if waiting to be worn again later.
Well, he thought. Maybe it's time to try something different.
He stood in front of his bedroom door, his hand on the handle. For a moment, he hesitated. Then the door opened, and he stepped out.
The dormitory corridor was bright with daylight. Paintings lined the walls, silent and orderly, as always. Mikhail walked out of the dormitory toward the training field.
With the next step, he slowed.
It wasn't a clear voice, nor was it a call he could pinpoint. More like a subtle feeling that something was drawing his attention.
He turned his head. Without fully understanding why, he followed the direction and walked deeper into the dormitory, opposite the exit. The corridor he was walking grew quieter, rarely visited by students or Luminars. He continued walking until he approached the kitchen area.
There he saw it.
The painting was different from the others. He had read about it in the library; it was called Prince Novron and the Witch. It showed the prince holding the witch's head, her long hair a mess, blood splattering to the ground. Around him, an army of armored knights cheered, as if celebrating their victory. The witch's body was depicted as collapsed, but not yet fully on the floor. In the background, a royal building loomed.
Suddenly, a faint memory of Custos Willie telling the tale flashed through his mind: "Once upon a time, there was a kingdom…" Mikhail's head ached, and suddenly his soul felt like it had been stabbed. The eyes of everyone in the painting were staring at him. The pain pierced him even deeper, and from their eyes oozed black water that seeped into his mind.
When Mikhail opened his eyes again, the painting seemed still, the army of knights still, blood drying on the canvas, the witch's head still clutched.
When Mikhail opened his eyes again, the painting seemed still, the army of knights still, blood drying on the canvas, the witch's head still clutched.
Suddenly, the walls around the painting began to vibrate, the vibrations subtle but penetrating to the bone. Tiny cracks crept wildly, like living veins, and a thin whirring sound could be heard, almost like the whisper of the stone itself. The stones in the wall moved slowly, bending and joining together, forming a gap that grew larger. From within emerged a passage, dark and dense, with a stone staircase winding to the left. The end was nowhere to be seen, only darkness swallowing the light.
The torches along the stairs burned on their own, but not from fire. The stone within them emitted a blue light that pulsed like blood, as if it possessed a consciousness of its own. Each pulse revealed the rough texture of the walls, shadows moving across the stone surface like living, lurking creatures.
The silence of the hallway was so thick, Mikhail felt completely isolated from the outside world. He wanted to turn around, return to the familiar, bright corridor, but something drew him in, something far stronger than his fear.
He stared at the stairs, his hands trembling, his heart pounding erratically. With a deep breath, he took the first step. The blue stone pulsed around him, as if responding to his every step, leading him deeper into the darkness.
The cheers of joy from the painting seemed to fade slowly, replaced by a soft hum that echoed off the stone walls. The hum wasn't just audible, it was felt in his bones and blood, a call that pierced his fear and unleashed a curiosity he couldn't contain.
Mikhail realized one thing: he wasn't just descending a staircase. He was stepping into another world, a space that didn't exist in any history or book. And despite his fear, his heart still pounded with a strange tension; there was something down there, waiting for him, and he knew he couldn't stop now.
Mikhail continued down the winding stone staircase, the blue light from the stone torches pulsing softly around him. The silence was so intense that every step he took was clearly audible in the hallway. His body felt light, but his mind was tense, as if something awaited him at the end of the journey.
Finally, the staircase stopped, and he stepped into a vast space. The blue from the torches reflected throughout the room, creating the effect of a frozen hall of ice, the floor shiny and cold, long shadows dancing on the walls. The room was so large that the ceiling almost disappeared in the haze of blue light.
In front of Mikhail, rows of chairs stood neatly arranged in rows. But what caught his attention wasn't the rows, but three different chairs, facing him. They were more imposing, more imposing, as if beckoning him to come closer.
Surrounding the three chairs stood six statues: three on the left side, three on the right. Each statue's shape was different, asymmetrical, and not uniform, but Mikhail paid no attention to the details. He only felt a powerful calling, something leading him to the heart of the room.
Behind the three chairs stood a statue much larger than a human, about twice the height of an average man. The statue wore a long cloak that reached down to the floor, covering its feet, even the lower half of which was lost in shadow. It was different from the Luminar cloaks he was used to; it was unfamiliar, as if from another world.
The statue held an open book in its hands, displaying a page Mikhail couldn't read from this distance. Around its neck hung a unique necklace: not a symbol of the sun, moon, or stars, but a circle with eight lines converging to a point in the center. The symbol seemed alive, pulsing faintly with the blue light that surrounded the room.
Mikhail stood there, transfixed. All the details and dimensions of the statue seemed to pale in comparison to the calling that burned within him. Every beat of his heart seemed to be in tune with the aura of this room; there was something waiting, something he wanted to meet, and he knew, for the first time, he couldn't look away.
"Wow... there's a human. There's a new guest."
The voice echoed through the great hall. Mikhail flinched, his heart pounding. He was shocked, scared, as if the words had penetrated his bones and seeped into his being. The blue light from the torches suddenly flickered randomly, making the shadows of the hall dance like a living creature. Darkness crept in, engulfing part of the room.
Mikhail turned, panicked. He tried to run, but the voice continued to follow.
"It's been a long time since I've seen a human."
The torches in front of him went out one by one, the blue light that had guided him now vanished, replaced by a darkness that seemed to chase him.
"Don't run."
The voice echoed again, closer, deeper. Mikhail's body shivered, fear gripping his entire being. He stared at the spiral staircase that had led him into the hall, and without thinking, he climbed it, hoping to escape the pursuing darkness.
But something strange happened. The staircase had no end. He continued to climb, but his steps seemed to return to where they started, the world spinning and spinning endlessly. The darkness deepened, swallowing the sound of his footsteps, swallowing the light that There was nothing left.
Finally, his foot caught on something invisible, and his body fell. The world around him turned pitch black, eerily silent, with only a piercing emptiness. Mikhail felt a suffocating helplessness, as if all space and time had closed in around him.