Chapter 3

The afternoon sun descended slowly upon the golden light towers of Luminosus, casting long ribbons of light across the royal gardens.

Beyond the palace walls, the capital was preparing for the most anticipated night of the year.

Luminosian hosts hurried through marble corridors carrying ceremonial garments and trays of enchanted offerings. Royal guards polished their golden armor until its surface reflected the colors of the sky. Enchanting Musicians gathered in the courtyards, tuning their celestial instruments, while palace attendants adorned the great stairways with white roses, luminous lilies, and ribbons of sky blue.

Tonight was no ordinary celebration.

Tonight, the ten kingdoms of Avelia would gather beneath the royal banners of Luminosus for the Lumus Annua Ritual.

And every road leading to the capital seemed to carry the promise of something extraordinary.

Within the Great Shakka Hall, preparations for the royal ceremony had reached their final stage.

The hall had been transformed.

White and gold banners hung from the towering pillars, each bearing the emblem of Luminosus: a radiant sun surrounded by celestial rays. Sky-blue crystals floated beneath the vaulted ceiling, casting a gentle glow over the assembled attendants. At the far end of the hall, the royal dais had been adorned with ceremonial flowers, ancient relics, and the golden vessels reserved for the sacred rite.

King Levarro stood before the great windows, observing the capital below.

From the highest tower of the palace, the Kingdom appeared to be a sea of light. Streets had been decorated with luminous lanterns. Market squares overflowed with travelers, merchants, and visiting dignitaries. The balconies of the royal district were draped in ceremonial fabrics, while musicians rehearsed in the courtyards.

The Lumus Annua Ritual was more than a feast.

It was the annual celebration of the sovereignty and prosperity of Luminosus, the governing capital of Avelia. It commemorated the responsibility entrusted to the Light Kingdom: to preserve harmony among the ten kingdoms and uphold the ancient bonds that allowed their diverse peoples to flourish.

The ritual also offered each kingdom an opportunity to renew its allegiance, present its gifts, honor its ancestors, and affirm its commitment to the continued peace of Avelia.

For one night, the capital became the meeting place of ten different identities, ten traditions, and ten expressions of magic.

And at the heart of it all stood King Levarro.

“My King.”

Lady Agartha approached, carrying a ceremonial vessel of polished gold.

Levarro turned.

“Is everything prepared?”

“The royal hall is ready. The delegations have arrived, the sacred offerings have been arranged, and the guardians of the ritual are awaiting your command.”

The western gates of Luminosus opened beneath a sky of deepening blue.

Beyond them, the ceremonial road stretched toward the capital, lined with towering white pillars and golden lanterns. At its far end, the royal palace rose above the city like a monument fashioned from sunlight itself.

Then the first procession appeared.

From the northern road came the delegation of Levithali, the Kingdom of Wind. Their garments were pure white and gold, flowing like clouds across the ceremonial path. Silver streamers danced above their standards, while the breeze seemed to follow their footsteps as though the very air had come to welcome them.

Their arrival was met by a chorus of silver horns.

Next came the delegation of Hydranas, the Kingdom of Water.

Their ceremonial robes shimmered in shades of turquoise and deep blue, decorated with pearl-like ornaments and patterns resembling waves. Crystal vessels filled with enchanted water were carried before them, each drop reflecting the surrounding lanterns like a tiny moon.

As they passed through the gates, the water within the vessels rose into delicate spirals, forming fleeting shapes of fish, flowers, and flowing ribbons before settling once more.

From the eastern road came the representatives of Latiper, the Kingdom of Lightning.

Their dark-blue garments were edged with brilliant yellow, and their standards bore symbols resembling bolts of celestial fire. Golden sparks flickered along the ceremonial poles, illuminating their armor as thunder rolled softly across the distant hills.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

Then the Kingdom of Etara arrived.

Music announced them long before their procession came into view. Harps, flutes, drums, and enchanted strings created a melody that traveled through the streets like a living thing. Their garments shimmered in colors inspired by sound and rhythm, and the air seemed to vibrate with every note.

Where Etarians walked, even the fountains appeared to dance.

The delegation of Raterion followed, bearing gifts carved from the treasures of the earth. Their ceremonial wagons carried sculpted stones, polished crystals, and intricate works of craftsmanship, while their banners displayed the ancient symbols of the Earth Kingdom.

The ground beneath their procession glimmered with mineral light.

Then came the healers of Ajonoth, robed in gentle hues and carrying vessels of sacred herbs, restorative crystals, and medicinal flowers. Their arrival brought a quieter reverence to the gathering. People bowed as they passed, honoring the kingdom whose gifts had brought relief to countless lives.

Fordala followed, its delegation distinguished by rich fuchsia, brown, and gold. Their scholars carried illuminated books bound in enchanted leather, their pages protected by ancient seals. The kingdom's ceremonial offerings included volumes of history, poetry, prophecy, and knowledge preserved across generations.

Some books opened as the procession passed, revealing letters that floated above their pages like golden fireflies.

From the southern volcanic road came Agordom.

The Kingdom of Fire announced its arrival with crimson banners and golden standards. Their warriors marched in disciplined ranks, their armor reflecting the fiery glow of ceremonial torches. The air around them shimmered with heat, and the distant mountains seemed to answer their presence with a low volcanic rumble.

At their center rode King Lunagor, formidable and proud, accompanied by Prince Jero.

The Fire King raised his hand in greeting.

The people answered with thunderous applause.

Last among the visiting delegations came Gathorio, the Kingdom of Soul.

Their procession was solemn, draped in royal purple and silver. Their standards bore the emblems of memory, spirit, and the unseen mysteries that bound the living to those who had departed. Their ceremonial lanterns glowed with a soft, ethereal light, and the people gathered along the road grew quiet as the delegation passed.

Some bowed their heads.

Others watched in wonder.

For Gathorio was a kingdom whose beauty was inseparable from its mysteries.

And far within its ancient borders stood the colossal Bloodgemstone, the sacred prison of Avelia's lost souls—a monument whose true history remained hidden from most of the world.

No one spoke of it during the procession.

Tonight was a celebration of unity.

Yet even among the music and applause, the old mysteries of Avelia remained.

At last, the ten kingdoms stood represented beneath the banners of Luminosus.

Ten peoples.

Ten traditions.

Ten kingdoms gathered beneath one sky.

And above them all, the first stars began to appear.

King Levarro stepped forward on the marble dais, the folds of his golden mantle catching the torchlight. He raised both hands, and the crowd’s roar thinned to silence.

“Welcome, sons and daughters of Avelia,” he said. The words carried easily over the assembled heads. “Tonight we remember the pact that keeps our ten kingdoms standing. Tomorrow we renew it.”

Behind him, his remaining sons took their places—Hectoro broad-shouldered and stern, Akilio watchful, young Gino fidgeting with the clasp of his cloak. Finio was absent. The empty spot beside Hectoro drew glances, but Levarro did not acknowledge it.

From the Fire delegation, King Lunagor’s mouth curved in a thin smile. Prince Jero leaned closer to his father and whispered something. Neither man looked away from the dais.

A single bell tolled from the high tower, deep and measured. Its note rolled across the courtyard like a slow wave. When the last echo faded, the torches flared once, brighter, then settled. The crowd exhaled as one.

Levarro lowered his hands. “Let the feast begin.”