The Sacrifice of Light 1

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the stone corridors of the castle. Sunlight poured through tall, narrow windows, illuminating the figure of a young woman sprinting down the hallway. Her silver hair shimmered with each step, fox-like ears twitching with determination. A long, fluffy tail swayed behind her, its silver fur catching the light, adding an air of elegance to her movement. Her hands, covered in soft fur up to the mid-upper arm, ended in sharp, retractable claws at the fingertips—a trait exclusive to rare races like hers. Normally retracted, her claws were now extended, reflecting the anger simmering in her chest. Similarly, her feet were furred up to the middle of her thighs, with sharp claws tipping her toes, and padded like the paws of a fox. She wore no footwear, as her unique physiology made it unnecessary. On her head rested a delicate silver crown, and her white short dress contrasted beautifully with her silvery fur and regal bearing. Most demi-humans lacked these features, having human-like limbs, making Lirien's appearance all the more distinctive. This was Princess Lirien, daughter of the king, and her presence was enough to draw smiles from everyone she passed.

"Good morning, Your Highness!" called an elderly maid as she dusted a nearby tapestry.

"Morning, Mrs. Belva!" Lirien replied with a quick wave, not breaking her stride.

A young guard standing by the armory door straightened at her approach, offering a sharp salute. "Princess Lirien!"

She nodded with a grin. "Keep up the good work, Johan!"

Even the blacksmith, hammering away at a misshapen horseshoe, paused to give her a warm smile. "Off to save the kingdom again, Your Highness?"

"Always, Mr. Thren!" she called back, her voice carrying a hint of playful exasperation.

The castle's inhabitants adored Lirien, not just for her noble lineage but for her relentless energy and the way she treated everyone—noble or servant—with genuine kindness. But today, there was no time for pleasantries. Her heart pounded, not from the run but from the anger simmering in her chest.

She rounded the final corner and burst into the grand hall. The room was cavernous, its once-majestic walls now faded and cracked. The tapestries that lined them were threadbare, and the air carried a faint chill, even in summer. At the far end of the hall, sitting on a throne that had seen better days, was her father, King Harald.

The king's silver hair was streaked with gray, his fox-like ears drooping slightly, a testament to the years of burden he had carried. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he addressed a group of advisors and clan leaders gathered before him.

"Father!" Lirien's voice rang out, cutting through the murmurs in the room.

All eyes turned toward her as she strode purposefully toward the throne. Her anger was evident, and the advisors instinctively parted to let her pass. King Harald straightened, his tired eyes meeting hers with a mixture of weariness and affection.

"Lirien," he said, his tone calm but firm. "This is an important meeting. What brings you here in such a state?"

"I heard," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "that you're planning to summon a hero. Is this true?"

The room fell silent. The advisors exchanged uneasy glances as King Harald sighed deeply. "It is true. We have little choice."

"But we don't have enough priests to complete the ritual!" Lirien exclaimed, her hands clenched into fists. "It's reckless, Father! You're risking the lives of everyone involved for a ritual that will most likely fail!"

King Harald's gaze hardened. "And what would you have us do, Lirien? Sit idly by while our people starve? While the humans continue to raid our villages and enslave our kin? Look around you! Our fields are barren, our coffers empty, and our soldiers too few to protect what little we have left."

Lirien hesitated, her anger wavering in the face of her father's despair. She looked around the room, seeing the grim faces of the advisors and leaders. They all carried the same weight of hopelessness.

"I understand," she said finally, her voice softer. "But if we fail…"

"We fail either way," King Harald said, his tone heavy. "At least this way, we've tried everything. Our people need hope, Lirien. Even if it's a fleeting glimmer."

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Then I demand to attend the summoning."

The king raised an eyebrow. "Lirien, this is no place for a princess. The summoning is dangerous, and—"

"All the more reason for me to be there," she interrupted, her resolve returning. "If we're asking our people to risk their lives for this, then I should be willing to do the same."

King Harald studied her for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Very well. You may attend. But promise me you will stay out of the summoning."

Lirien nodded, though a small, defiant spark glinted in her eyes. "Of course, Father."

The king sighed again, leaning back in his throne as the room buzzed with quiet murmurs. Lirien stepped back, her mind already racing. She didn't like this plan—not one bit. But if this was the path they had chosen, she would make sure she was there to see it through.

"When is the summoning happening?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with tension.

"This afternoon," King Harald replied. "Preparations are already underway."

----------------------------------

The scene shifted to the church that afternoon. The air inside was heavy with the scent of incense, and faint sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the worn stone floor. Eight priests stood in a circle around a summoning glyph etched into the ground, their hands clasped in prayer. The intricate markings of the circle glowed faintly, a soft hum resonating through the chamber.

Lirien stood off to the side, her arms crossed tightly, next to her father. She was clad in a ceremonial white cloak draped over her usual attire, signifying her role as an observer. The tension in the air was palpable, and even the priests' voices quavered slightly as they began the incantation.

The summoning circle flickered and sputtered, the glow faltering as the priests chanted. Lirien's sharp eyes noticed their strained expressions, their foreheads slick with sweat as they pushed themselves to maintain the spell.

"It's not working," she muttered under her breath, glancing at her father. He remained silent, his jaw clenched as he watched the scene unfold.

The lead priest raised his voice, his chant growing louder as he pushed more mana into the ritual. The others followed suit, their desperation palpable. Finally, the circle flared to life, its light stabilizing into a steady, golden glow.

The hum grew louder, the air thick with magical energy. But then, without warning, the circle began to waver again. The glow flickered chaotically, and a deep crackling sound filled the room. The priests exchanged panicked glances, knowing full well the consequences of failure: if the spell collapsed, the ensuing explosion would be powerful enough to destroy the entire church and kill everyone inside. 

Lirien's heart pounded in her chest. She looked at her father, her eyes wide with fear and determination, tears starting to form and streaking down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Before anyone could react, she broke into a sprint, running toward the circle.

"Lirien! Stop!" King Harald shouted, his voice breaking with worry and fear. "Don't do this! Please! You're all I have left!" His desperation was clear, the plea of a father who had already lost two of his children to the humans. He couldn't bear to lose her too, but she didn't slow down.

As she approached the summoning circle, Lirien clasped her hands together, her claws retracting as she began to pray. "Great god," she whispered fervently, "take my body and soul. Use me as your vessel. Just please, give us a hero who can save our people."

With a final leap, she jumped into the glowing circle. The light exploded in a brilliant flash, blinding everyone in the room. The hum of magic crescendoed into a deafening roar before cutting off abruptly, leaving the room in stunned silence. Her body was left behind, lying motionless on the ground, slightly radiating light that pulsed softly, as if echoing the remnants of the powerful spell.

-------------------------

When Lirien opened her eyes again, she found herself in a vast room made entirely of light. The walls, the floor, and even the air shimmered with an ethereal glow. In the center of the room stood two figures made of light, one brighter and more radiant than the other. She blinked, taking in the surreal sight before focusing on the brighter figure.

"Are you... God?" she asked hesitantly.

The brighter figure nodded. "Yes, child, I am."

Before she could ask another question, the second figure spoke, the tone tinged with regret. "I was supposed to be the summoned hero," the figure began, the form flickering slightly. "But the spell was too weak to anchor me into this world. When you jumped into the circle, all the remaining energy concentrated into your body instead."

Lirien's heart sank. "So... what happens now?"

The second figure hesitated, then said gravely, "The only way forward would be to destroy your soul and try to anchor mine into your body instead."

Her breath hitched, and she glanced at the brighter figure. "Is he telling the truth?" she asked.

God nodded solemnly. "Yes."

Lirien turned back to the second figure. "Before I agree to anything, I need to know—are you truly a good person? Will you protect the demi-humans and take care of them?"

The hero's form seemed to straighten, the light within the body steadying as the figure spoke with conviction. "I promise you, I will. In my old life, I hated humans for what they did to the world. Even though I was one myself, I couldn't stand how they destroyed everything they touched. I won't let that happen here."

Her resolve hardened. "Then I'll do it," she said, her voice steady despite the fear gripping her heart. "If it means saving my people, I'll give my body and soul for this."

The god's light flickered softly, almost as if in approval. "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten," he said. "But before we proceed, I will grant you a chance to say goodbye." As he finished speaking, the room grew even brighter, the light becoming all-encompassing. Lirien raised her hand to shield her eyes, but it was no use. The brightness overwhelmed her, and everything went black.

----------------------------

Back in the church, King Harald knelt on the cold stone floor, cradling Lirien's glowing body in his arms. His face was pale, his eyes glistening with tears as he whispered her name over and over.

When her eyes fluttered open, he gasped, his arms tightening around her. "Lirien!"

"Father..." she murmured, her voice weak but filled with warmth. She hugged him back as best she could, her trembling arms barely able to move. "I need to tell you something..."

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. "What happened? What's going on?"

She took a shuddering breath, her glow dimming slightly as she spoke. "I met God... and the hero. The spell... it wasn't strong enough. The only way to bring the hero here is to use my body."

"No," Harald whispered, his voice breaking. "No, Lirien, you can't—"

"It's the only way," she interrupted gently. "The hero will take care of our people, Father. I made sure of it."

Her words faltered as her strength waned. She leaned against him, her arms falling limp. "I love you, Father," she whispered, her eyes closing as her glow intensified briefly, then began to fade. Her body grew still, the light pulsing faintly as if signaling her final goodbye.