the awakening

Lira stood frozen, her mind whirling as Thorne's words reverberated in her chest like a drumbeat.

"You... you're the Sungod reborn."

The words didn't make sense. How could they? She was just Lira, an orphan living in a ruined temple, a nobody in a world that had long since forgotten the warmth of the sun. The sun was dying, they said. The world was dying. There was no god. Not anymore.

"Thorne, you're wrong," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm just... me."

Thorne's amber eyes softened, but they remained intense, focused, as if he were trying to peer past the layers of disbelief and confusion clouding her mind. He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "You feel it, don't you? The pull. The power inside you. You've been dreaming about it for weeks, maybe longer."

Lira's throat went dry as the memories of those dreams flooded back. The darkened sun, the flash of fire and light, the weight of something ancient pressing down on her chest. Faces, half-remembered and distorted, calling her name in voices that were not her own. The feeling of power, so vast and so frightening, it made her want to run and never look back.

"I don't... I don't know what it means," she stammered, pulling her hands to her chest as if to quiet the storm raging inside her. "I'm not the Sungod. I'm not anyone important."

"You are," Thorne said, his voice steady and certain. "The gods do not just die, Lira. They are reborn. And you, my dear, are the god who was born from the sun. The very thing that sustains this world. You have power in you that's older than the stars."

She shook her head again, her hands trembling at her sides. "This doesn't make sense. The sun's dying. I—how can I possibly be the one to stop it?"

"I'm not saying you can stop it, Lira," Thorne replied, his tone softening. "What I'm saying is that you are the key. The sun's death wasn't an accident. It was deliberate. The Sunpriests—" He broke off, casting a wary glance toward the shadowy edges of the temple. "They are the ones who have kept the sun's power under control. But they've been hiding the truth for centuries. They've kept the world in the dark, manipulated it to their advantage."

Lira's breath caught in her throat. She had heard whispers about the Sunpriests, legends of the ancient mages who had once held the power of the sun in their hands. Stories of their immortality, their cruelty, their worship of the dying light. But she had always dismissed them as myths, tales told to children to explain the unexplainable.

"They... they did this?" she asked, barely able to speak the words.

Thorne nodded grimly. "The Sunpriests believed they could control the sun's power—use it to extend their lives, to become gods themselves. But they underestimated the cost. The sun's light is tied to the balance of the world, and when they severed that bond, they set everything on a path to ruin. The sky turned gray. The islands broke apart. The magic of the world began to fade."

Lira's heart pounded in her chest. "And you think... I can stop them? I can fix this?"

Thorne's gaze was unwavering. "You can't stop the sun's death without consequences, Lira. But you're the only one who can make a choice. You can either restore the sun and bring light back to the world—or you can let it die and let the world rebuild itself in darkness. It's your destiny."

The weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders. How could she be expected to make such a choice? How could she, an orphan with no ties to this broken world, hold the fate of everything in her hands? The pressure was suffocating.

"I don't even know how to begin," Lira whispered, her voice cracking. "How am I supposed to understand something this big? I can barely understand who I am."

Thorne stepped closer, his presence steadying her, his hand lightly brushing against her shoulder. "You already know more than you think. The memories, the dreams—they are the first steps toward awakening your power. The key to unlocking it lies within you."

Lira looked up at him, confusion still etched on her face. "But I can't do this alone."

"No," Thorne agreed. "You won't have to. There are others who can help you, people who've been waiting for you. You've already met one of them."

She frowned. "Who?"

"Cael. The Lost Prophet. He's been searching for you."

Lira's stomach clenched. She had heard the name before, in passing—another shadowed figure, a figure cloaked in mystery, whose name was spoken only in hushed tones. Cael, the prophet who had vanished from the world centuries ago, leaving only whispers of his return.

"Cael," she repeated. "What does he want with me?"

"Cael knows things. Things that will help you understand your place in all of this. He can guide you, teach you how to control your power. But you must trust him. And trust me." Thorne's expression darkened, the shadows in his amber eyes deepening. "There are those who will try to stop you. The Sunpriests have already sent agents to find you. They won't let you walk away from this. Not without a fight."

Lira's heart skipped a beat. "Then we need to leave. We need to—"

"Not yet," Thorne interrupted. "You can't leave yet. You need to understand what you're up against. I need to show you something."

Thorne stepped back and motioned toward the back of the temple. The stone hallway was dark, the air cool and stale, but Lira followed without question. There was something about him—a quiet urgency, a determination in his eyes—that made her feel as though this was the only path she could take.

At the far end of the hallway, a stone door loomed, etched with more strange symbols that Lira couldn't quite comprehend. Thorne placed his hand on the door, and it creaked open with a low groan. Behind it was a small chamber, dimly lit by flickering lanterns.

In the center of the room stood a pedestal, its surface covered in ancient runes. Atop it lay a cracked, golden mirror, its glass dark and clouded, as if it had been shattered and reforged countless times. The mirror shimmered faintly in the dim light, and Lira felt a strange pull toward it.

"This," Thorne said quietly, "is the Mirror of Souls. It will show you the truth of who you are. The past lives you've forgotten, the god within you."

Lira hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at her. She had always been afraid of the unknown, afraid of what might be revealed if she let herself look too deeply. But the pull was undeniable, and she stepped closer, reaching out a trembling hand.

When her fingers touched the surface of the mirror, the world around her seemed to dissolve.

A flood of images washed over her—visions of worlds long gone, of gods and mortals entwined in a dance of light and shadow. She saw herself, in a thousand different forms, each time a little different, but always the same. A powerful being, bathed in light, with the sun at her back and the world trembling beneath her feet.

She saw the fall—the moment when the sun had died, when everything had been shattered, when the gods had been cast into darkness.

And then she saw a face. A man with silver eyes, his features etched with sorrow. He reached out to her, his hand trembling as if he knew the choice she would have to make.

The vision faded, leaving Lira gasping for breath, her heart racing.

Thorne was standing beside her, watching her with a somber expression. "You've seen it now. The truth. You are the Sungod. And you must decide whether to restore the sun or let it die."

Lira's thoughts were in chaos. The weight of her destiny pressed down on her chest, suffocating her.

She had seen it. But could she accept it?

Could she save the world—or destroy it?

There was no turning back now.