Bolt_1

He kneeled on the snow. The burning cold was reddening both his toes and fingers, but it didn't compare to the anger he was feeling at the moment. Such anger could be noticed in his expression, which even seemed animalistic, as well as in the tears streaming down his face.

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When he opened his eyes, all he could see was an old, wooden ceiling. After staring at it for a while, he turned his head.

"Oh! I'm glad you're awake!"

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"I swear! I'm coming back alive!"

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On August 17th 1788, Austria, a new boy is born, this boy would bring a huge change with him.
The novel "The Bringer of Light" will revolve around quarrels of powerful noble families, political matters, strategic discussions, the real human condition where good and bad people don't truly exist, and much more.

That boy is a prodigy child, having deep insight ever since his birth. One day, something terrible happens to him, which makes him have the goal of bringing light to this world.

The main point of this book is following him on his journey to fulfill that task. He goes through a lot of internal struggles such as: Is it really possible to achieve such a thing? Is what I'm trying to do even the right choice?

The Bringer of Light

Lukas and the rest of his team were following the 5 instructors who had brought all of them to their meeting spot.

Lukas was walking beside Marco in a casual way as they made small talk.

Lukas turned his head to Marco. "Hey, Marco, how did the things go in the camp?" he asked.

Marco shrugged his shoulders. "To be honest, they were really chill. You kinda had left everything set up anyways," he said.

Lukas laughed softly as he shook his head. "If you mean to underestimate your efforts with that sentence, then I won't let you. I may have set everything up, but you maintained the good conditions, which, sometimes, is harder than actually building something," he said.

Marco scoffed. "You really are good with words aren't you, brat?" he asked. "Well, you could have used them to calm Luther down a bit when he heard the war horn," the black-haired boy said.

Poor Carriage Driver