Chapter 1: Dreams of the past

Tharion Starborne, King of Aurelith, sat alone in the dimly lit chamber, staring at the intricate patterns of his staff. The luminescent crystal atop it pulsed gently, sending waves of ethereal light cascading over the room. The warmth of the hearth crackled and whispered in the silence, but it did little to ease the weight pressing on his chest. His thoughts were far from the present; they drifted like ghosts to another time—one he could no longer reach.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him, not the tender kind one feels when recalling old friends or distant memories, but a raw, painful ache. He missed his old life, before the weight of the crown had settled upon his brow. Before the endless responsibilities and the constant pressure of leadership consumed him. There was a time when he had fought for survival, when he had known who his enemies were and what he had to do to overcome them. But now, as King, he only fought to maintain unity—something that seemed ever more fragile.

His eyes drifted to the window, where the grand city of Aurengarde spread out beneath him. The celestial spires—tall, shining towers—rose like needles into the heavens. Their radiant glow filled the city with an otherworldly light, casting shadows of wonder and foreboding upon the streets below. The royal castle, built upon these spires, seemed almost alive, a shimmering testament to the unearthly power that had shaped it. But the beauty of the city only deepened his melancholy. He could feel it now—the absence of the Luminar, the celestial beings who had once ruled alongside the royal family, the ones who had created this marvel of a kingdom.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his reverie. He turned, and a young woman stepped into the room, holding a board to her chest, the runes etched upon it glowing faintly. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing a little quicker than normal. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Tharion hadn’t seen her before, but her nervousness was clear. He smiled gently, rising to his feet.

"Sir, they are ready for you in the Celestial Hall," she said, her voice shaky.

Tharion placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light but reassuring. "No need to worry, child. I am just as nervous as you are."

The girl nodded but didn’t respond. She turned and led him down the long hallways of the Golden Spire of Sovereignty. Even after all these years, the grandeur of the castle never failed to take his breath away. The walls shimmered with crystalline veins of purest light, radiating from the very stones themselves. The castle was more than just a home; it was a living, breathing testament to the ancient magic of Aurelith.

They passed the royal tapestries that lined the hall, depicting scenes of great battles, celestial gatherings, and moments of unity. But it was the spires that truly stole his attention, their shining forms climbing ever higher into the sky, reaching for the stars. They were not made by human hands—no mortal could craft such beauty. It angered him, when others doubted the existence of the Luminar. No one could deny their craftsmanship, their divine influence on Aurelith. And yet, there were those who claimed it was all but a myth, a story passed down to explain the inexplicable. Tharion knew better.

After climbing the spiral staircase that gleamed like polished gold, they reached the massive doors to the Celestial Hall. The young girl fumbled with the runic board, speaking the words aloud in a trembling voice. She stumbled over the pronunciation but, to her credit, managed to open the door correctly.

The hall was vast, its dome stretching high above them, adorned with paintings that depicted the Luminar’s creation of Aurelith, their guidance of magic, and the golden age of the kingdom. In the center of the room stood the Table of Unity, a massive circular table surrounded by the most important people in the kingdom. His family sat at one side, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern. To the other side, a group of scholars—ancient elves, their ears long and graceful—were working to connect a strange, complicated machine to the crystal plants that adorned the hall.

Tharion nodded at them and took his seat on the throne. The others in the room were still, their gazes fixed on him, waiting. A silence hung in the air, thick with anticipation.

"It’s happening, is it?" A deep voice asked from beside him. The speaker was his younger brother, Kaelith Starborne, a battle-hardened man with a rough black beard that reached his chest. His half-shaved head gleamed in the light, and the gemstones woven into his armor glinted with an almost imperceptible glow. Tharion looked at him, seeing the same weary, greyed look that mirrored his own. They had both carried the burden of leadership, though Kaelith’s path had always been one of war, not wisdom.

Tharion nodded, his gaze lingering on the large machine the elves were working on. "It is. We’ll see where it takes us."

Tharion turned his gaze away from the machine and towards his family, his blue eyes reflecting off the stars of the night sky above.

"Everyone out, except for my brother and the scribes," Tharion ordered, his voice firm but with a hint of strain.

His son, Orion Starborne, slammed his hands on the Table of Unity. His long blonde hair and silver cloak swaying as he did so. "We all came here to see you attempt this crownspin display of celestial travel. What makes you think you can just kick us out?"

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Tharion’s patience wore thin, the nerves gnawing at him. "The scribes will fill you in on everything. Now leave. That is an order."

Orion's face reddened, but after a moment of tense silence, he huffed and turned away. "Fine. But don’t come crawling back to us when this ends in disaster."

Tharion didn’t answer, his focus already shifting to the scholars and the machine before him. Kaelith scoffed, watching the family leave with a smirk.

"Boy ain’t going to cut it," Kaelith muttered.

"Just give him time," Tharion said, not looking at him. "He’ll grow into it."

Kaelith shook his head. "You know as well as I do. He’s more suited for trade, for policy, for maintaining the kingdom. He has no head for this Celestial nonsense."

Tharion sighed. "He’s my son, Kaelith. Let him find his own path."

“That path was decided upon him the moment that crown turned your hair grey and voice potent.” Kaelith said, harsh heartland accent pouring out. He sat up, staring at Tharion. The king stared back.

“I miss the old you, brother. The war general. Not this crownspin scholar who sacrifices pride for knowledge.” Tharion sighed, standing from his throne as he shook his head.

“Not now Kaelith. I have more important things to do than bicker.” Kalith scoffed, standing and leaning on the table, crossing his arms. He didn’t say a word after that.

Tharion thought for a moment about what his brother said. The old him was a ravaged monster, not fit for the crown. The chorus saved his life, and changed who he was. In return, he had to use his gift to make a change in Aurelith. He not only had to be king but also the best scholar in the heartlands.

The elves were now finishing their preparations, running final checks on the strange contraption that hummed with energy. The machine worked like a purifier, as green gas spread through the strange contraption. Around four elves stood around it, hands hovering over it.

A darker-skinned elf, taller than Tharion, turned to him, his long pointed ears folding back as he spoke.

"Your Majesty," the elf said, bowing his head. "We are ready to begin. When the Starless Nights occur, we will attune you to the Echo magic. It should allow you to travel to the past, though we cannot control where you may land."

Tharion took a deep breath, taking off his robes and gently placing them on the table. Next, he kneeled next to the machine, letting the elves surround him. Each one’s palm glowed with a green tint.

His brother sighed, a look of concern on his face. "This is new magic, right?” The darker-skinned elf nodded, sharing eyes with Kaelith. “If something happens to him, none of you will be leaving the place. Understood?” Nobody said yes or nodded, but the silence that followed could be taken for approval.

Tharion didn’t answer immediately, his gaze distant as he prepared himself for the journey ahead. "I know not of where this will take me. But I must see the past with my own two eyes.”

The Starless Nights finally enveloped the kingdom. A phenomenon that has occurred for months now, where the stars all shimmer away, leaving only darkness in the air.

The elves moved into position, their hands glowing with ethereal green energy as they knelt beside Tharion. They placed their hands on him, the air around him thick with power. A strange sensation washed over him, as though his very soul was being pulled from his body.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, everything had changed.

The Celestial Hall was still there, but the world around him was not. The walls had transformed into towering spires of gleaming crystal. He felt disconnected from the world, as if he was a misplaced object, never to be seen again.

A gathering of Luminars surrounded him, their otherworldly forms radiating light. They spoke in a tongue he did not understand, but it was unlike any language he had ever heard. It was rhythmic, musical even, each word a note in a divine symphony. The form they took was different than any painting depicted of them.

He almost couldn’t believe it. The echo magic worked. He saw everything with a green tint, but could identify every color and hue the celestial hall of the past gave him.

Tharion wandered among the magnificent Luminar, reaching out to touch one of the figures, but his hand passed through them, as though they were made of smoke. He was but a spectator, a shadow in their world. They didn’t see or recognize his presence at all.

His heart ached as he watched the Luminar—the creators of Aurelith—move in perfect harmony. They were gathering for something, an event of immense importance.

At the front of the hall, stood the largest of the Luminar, dressed in material that he had never seen before. If the stories were true, this had to have been Elyndra Solveir, the leader of the Luminar. Judging by the way other luminar bowed when talking to her. Even her harmony was different- one of true authority.

Tharion stood among them, taking it all in. He’s seen this place before in the Celestial Archives. Was told of this event before as a kid. He knew exactly what this was.

The Veling of the Chorus.

Suddenly, a rift opened in the sky above them, a celestial beacon shining down. Colors he had never seen before filled the Hall, as Luminar one by one entered the beacon. Their body’s deconstructed, floating up into the rift and leaving behind nothing but the empty echoes of their presence… It was hauntingly beautiful.

Tharion’s heart clenched. The Veiling. The moment when the Luminar left Aurelith. A tragedy, a loss that had shattered the kingdom. His mind raced, his emotions tumbling. He had seen it—felt it. The kingdom's greatest mystery, was now laid bare before him.

For centuries, many wondered weather the veiling was a blessing or a tragedy. Seeing the Luminar abandon this kingdom, one by one shifting into the rift above… Tharion found the answer.

This was a tragedy. A nightmare. One he could never forget now that he had lived in it.

One Luminar remained, staring out into the kingdom known as Aurelith. Tharion walked next to her, staring down at the celestial spires the city was built upon. He heard a faint whimper from them, as if they were relinquishing something divine.

The king began to stare at Elyndra, but to his surprise, was staring back. Her large Luminar eyes filled with a million colors, emotions and thoughts. She reached out to him, touching his chest, feeling his very being.

"Who... who are you?" Her voice was soft, yet filled with an ancient sorrow.

Before Tharion could answer, the world around him began to dissolve. The light became blinding, the stars above returned to their places, brighter than ever before. And then, there was nothing.

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When Tharion awoke, the Celestial Hall was no longer the place of wonder he had seen. It was back to its familiar grandeur, but he lay on the floor, disoriented and sick. He threw up, the sensation of traveling through time still heavy in his body. The voices around him were distorted, his vision blurry. His brother’s voice shouted, the elves moved to assist, but Tharion could only manage a weak response.

"What did you see?" the head elf asked, kneeling before him.

Tharion's mind struggled to piece the fragments together. He looked up, his eyes wide with the weight of what he had witnessed.

“… Everything.”