Chapter 1 - The Legend of Stella Lux

The city of Hamerlie, the proud capital of Silerius, was alive with celebration. Its streets, paved with gleaming stones, bustled with merchants hawking vibrant wares, soldiers patrolling in gleaming armor, and travelers from distant lands eager to partake in the Stella-Lux festival. For three days, the city would revel in remembrance—honoring the heroes who banished the great darkness and saved their continent named Mithel.

The air buzzed with excitement as traders shouted over one another, displaying exotic goods from across the kingdoms and beyond. Some even displayed goods which were procured from continent beyond Mithel like Silks woven with intricate golden embroidery, jewels said to be enchanted with traces of ancient magic, and delicacies crafted by the finest hands—all were laid out for eager buyers.

The streets themselves were transformed, adorned with ribbons and banners in hues of deep crimson and celestial gold, fluttering with every passing breeze.

Children with wooden swords and staff ran between the stalls, their laughter blending with the sounds of musicians playing lively tunes on flutes and lyres. Acrobats performed breathtaking feats in the open squares, twisting through the air like spirits unbound by earthly constraints. The scent of roasted meats, grilling skewers, fried pastries, and sweets of different flavours of fruits filled the air, making the travellers entering into the city to stop by each store to savour the taste of these delicacies and make this look like a celebration a feast for the senses as well as the spirit.

Amid the long string of travellers, city dwellers and bussling in and around an old man and a young woman, cloaked from head to toe, moved silently through the crowed street. Their presence was unremarkable among the multitude of visitors, yet if one notices, they would find that there was something deliberate in their steps, something keen in their observant eyes. They wandered through the joyous streets, taking in the spectacle with quiet curiosity, unnoticed by the others who were too absorbed in their own merriment to pay them any mind.

Towering above the festival grounds stood a grand monument so high that it could be seen anywhere from the city—a statue carved from the finest white marble, depicting two figures locked in an eternal moment of heroism. The radiant Prince Zacchurs Fae, his right hand aglow with divine light,and in his left hand he hold a golden staff embedded with many mana stones and the fierce warrior Aisha Aeroen, her blade covered in red light of her mana poised against unseen enemies. The names beneath them were etched in gold, forever remembered as the saviors of not just their kingdom but Mithel as a whole.

As one of the most famous tourist destination in the city, a small crowd had gathered before the monument, listening to a woman animatedly recounting the legend to her companion. She gestured with dramatic flair, her voice rising and falling like a skilled storyteller weaving her spell.

"Look at them," she whispered, eyes wide with reverence. "Prince Zacchurs and Aisha. Do you know? Long ago, Mithel was a world of vast kingdoms, but The Azove Empire from where our founders of the kingdom originated, stood above them all—a land of splendor where golden spires reached for the heavens and was rumoured to be undefeatable. But as the old saying even the largest and strongest tree might fall under a huge strom, the empire too had whethered upon a terrible nightmare" She lifted a hand toward the sky as if conjuring the past itself.

"They called that nightmare as the great darkness Lux," she continued, "a force that devoured light and hope. When Lux descended upon Mithel, Azove, like many other kingdoms, fell. When humanity was on the verge of falling to despire, Legends speak of two who stood against it—Aisha Aeroen, the fearsome warrior born of a cursed clan, and Zacchurs Fae, the prince whose healing touch and kindness were a balm to the world."

Her companion, a burly man with a merchant's crest embroidered on his tunic, crossed his arms skeptically. "Aisha was the real savior," he countered. "Without her sword, Prince Zacchurs would have died before he could do anything. And don't you know the theory that the prince was the one who unleashed the terror upon Mithel?"

The woman gasped, scandalized. "Oh, hush you! There is also a theory about Aisha unleashing Lux in her fury. But I don't believe in these baseless rumors," she declared. "People try to twist history to suit their own narratives in the basis of stating it as theory... I believe the truth is what's written in the royal archives—after Prince Zacchurs sacrificed his life for Aisha, breaking her curse, she mourned him and disappeared into obscurity. That's why history says she vanished after his funeral."

The woman sighed dreamily, as she mumbled about true love pressing her hands together as if moved by the tragic tale. The merchant, flustered by her sudden sentimentality, rubbed the back of his neck, his ears turning red. Yet, despite his earlier skepticism, his expression softened looking at the woman.

The old man and his cloaked companion listened but said nothing. Their gazes lingered on the statue before a sudden blare of trumpets split the air, signaling the arrival of royalty.

A great cheer erupted as the king of Hamerlie ascended a grand balcony overlooking the square. Draped in golden robes embroidered with the insignia of Silerius, he raised a goblet in tribute. His speech, laced with passion, echoed through the streets, retelling the age-old tale of love, sacrifice, and victory. He spoke of the darkness that threatened to consume Mithel, of the radiant prince and the fierce warrior who stood against it as humanity's final home.He praised their courage, their unwavering devotion to their cause, and how they gave everything for the survival of the realm.

The old man and the woman listened, their expressions unreadable. Neither raised a cheer nor joined in the festivities that followed. When the speech ended and the festival resumed its lively course, they quietly slipped into a dimly lit tavern, seeking respite from the overwhelming celebrations.

The scent of spiced ale and roasted meat mingled in the air as the patrons engaged in boisterous conversations and occasional laughter was heard among those seated.The tavern was packed, filled with travelers and citizens alike sharing tales of the legendary pair, debating truths and embellishments over frothing tankards of mead.

As the old man and the woman settled into a corner table, their attention was drawn to a heated discussion among a group of travelers at a nearby table.

"I tell you, Zacchurs was the true hero!" a man insisted, pounding his mug against the wooden table. "He gave his life to save the world."

"Ridiculous!" scoffed another. "Without Aisha's blade, no one would have lived to tell the tale."

A younger traveler, hesitant but intrigued, leaned forward. "But wasn't there a theory that Zacchurs, in his love for Aisha, brought Lux upon Mithel?" he asked. "Or that Aisha's fury tore open the veil of shadows, allowing Lux to enter?"

A woman in the group huffed, rolling her eyes. "Theories, theories! Why do people always try to rewrite history? The archives tell the truth—Zacchurs sacrificed himself, and Aisha disappeared in grief. Anything else is just speculation."

The old man, listening from his seat, sipped his drink slowly, his eyes dark and thoughtful.

Unable to reach a consensus, the travelers turned to another form of proof. "The play will tell the truth," one of them declared. "Tonight, the story of Zacchurs and Aisha will be performed. Let us watch and judge for ourselves."

Curious, the old man and the cloaked woman exchanged glances before silently rising to follow them.

As they stepped out into the night, the city of Hamerlie still shimmered with celebration. The streets pulsed with life, lanterns casting golden halos upon the cobblestones. And above it all, the monument of the radiant prince and the fierce warrior loomed, silent and eternal—watching over a world that had long since decided what their story was.