Chapter 1: Eternal Dusk

The horizon of Aethon smoldered in hues of deep red and burnt gold, the dying breath of the red giant sun that loomed over the planet like an unblinking eye. In this perpetual dusk, the Luminar had built their existence, thriving in silence beneath a sun that whispered extinction with every slow turn of the sky. Kyra Vael stood on the edge of a crumbling excavation site, her hands covered in the fine black dust of Aethon’s soil, her thoughts tangled in forbidden curiosity.

The artifact in her hand gleamed faintly, its surface impossibly smooth, etched with strange, curving lines that reminded her of the archaic symbols she'd seen in her studies of Earth's remnants. But this fragment was different. Unlike the muted, weathered pieces she usually uncovered, this shard pulsed with a faint hum—so subtle that she wasn't sure if it was real or her imagination. That faint resonance, as if the object remembered the vibrations of a world filled with sound, was enough to make her heart race.

She glanced around the dig site, a hollowed-out stretch of blackened ground bordered by ancient, petrified trees. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint rustle of wind sliding through the dust. The other archaeologists moved with careful precision, their faces shadowed by the low light. No one spoke. Speaking was taboo. Even the faintest whisper might draw the darkness closer, a lesson ingrained in every Luminar since birth. To speak was to invite ruin.

Kyra slipped the shard into her satchel, her motions smooth and practiced. If anyone saw her pocketing a relic, she’d face severe punishment. The Council controlled all artifacts from Earth with an iron grip, guarding them in the Cathedral of Quiet. Knowledge of Earth’s past was deemed dangerous—an indulgence of a time when sound ruled and chaos reigned. But Kyra had always been drawn to that chaos, to the forbidden history of their ancestors who had once danced and sung beneath the bright blue skies of Earth. A world where silence wasn’t survival but an impossibility.

A shadow fell across her, and she looked up sharply, her breath catching. Toren Halix stood at the edge of the site, his tall, broad frame silhouetted against the fiery sky. His gaze swept over the archaeologists with the calm authority of the Luminar’s High Steward. His presence commanded respect, even fear, but Kyra had long ago learned to mask her emotions around him.

Toren’s eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something flicker there—a question, perhaps, or suspicion. Then he nodded, a curt gesture that dismissed her, and turned to speak to one of the overseers. Kyra exhaled slowly, the tension in her chest easing as he walked away. She hadn’t been caught. Not yet.

As the excavation wound down for the day, Kyra lingered, pretending to examine a nearby structure while the others packed their tools. The structure was a monolith of blackened stone, its surface carved with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the fading light. She ran her fingers over the grooves, feeling the subtle vibrations beneath her touch. It was almost as if the stone was alive, breathing in rhythm with the world’s dying sun.

The whispers came softly at first, so faint she thought it was her own thoughts. A low murmur, indistinct and melodic, brushing against the edges of her mind. She froze, her hand still on the stone, her eyes darting around the site. The other archaeologists were gone, their figures fading into the distance. She was alone.

Kyra closed her eyes, her pulse quickening. The whispers grew louder, though still incomprehensible, like a forgotten melody carried on the wind. She pressed her hands over her ears instinctively, but the sound wasn’t external. It was inside her, curling through her thoughts like tendrils of smoke. A word began to form, elusive and fragmented, slipping away before she could grasp it.

Her knees buckled, and she stumbled back from the monolith, her breathing ragged. The whispers faded as quickly as they had come, leaving an eerie stillness in their wake. Kyra stood there for a moment, her heart pounding, before forcing herself to move. She couldn’t afford to linger. Not now. Not with the sun sinking lower and the darkness encroaching.

By the time she returned to the city of Illenar, the twilight had deepened into a dim crimson haze. The city rose like a jagged silhouette against the sky, its spires reaching toward the heavens like the fingers of a supplicant. The streets were silent, the only sounds the faint rustle of fabric and the soft patter of footsteps as the Luminar moved through the narrow alleyways. Communication was conducted through swift, precise gestures, a language of the hands and eyes that had evolved over centuries.

Kyra kept her head down as she navigated the labyrinthine streets, her satchel pressed tightly against her side. She avoided the gaze of the Watchers—silent enforcers who stood at every corner, their dark cloaks blending into the shadows. The shard in her satchel felt heavier with every step, a burden she couldn’t shake.

Her apartment was small and sparsely furnished, a single room with a cot, a desk, and a shelf filled with forbidden texts hidden behind a false panel. She locked the door behind her and slid the satchel onto the desk, her fingers trembling as she pulled out the shard. The faint hum she’d felt earlier was gone, replaced by a cold, lifeless stillness. But as she held it up to the dim light of her lamp, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before—a faint glow emanating from the etched lines, like veins of fire running through the glass.

Kyra set the shard down and opened a battered notebook, its pages filled with sketches and notes from her previous digs. She flipped through them until she found a sketch of a similar artifact—a fragment of what the old texts called “data storage devices.” But this shard was different. It wasn’t just a piece of a long-dead machine. It felt alive, aware, as if it had been waiting for someone to find it.

The whispers returned, faint and insistent, pulling at the edges of her consciousness. This time, she didn’t resist. She closed her eyes and let them wash over her, focusing on the rhythm of the sound. The word she’d heard earlier began to take shape again, clearer now, though still elusive.

“...Home…”

Her eyes snapped open, her breath hitching. The word lingered in her mind, resonating with a strange, bittersweet familiarity. Home. Was it the home of the Luminar? Or the home their ancestors had left behind—Earth? The shard pulsed faintly beneath her fingers, as if responding to her thoughts.

A sudden knock at the door shattered the silence, and Kyra’s heart leapt into her throat. She shoved the shard back into her satchel and closed the notebook, her mind racing. No one ever visited her unannounced. She crossed the room and peered through the peephole, her stomach sinking when she saw who it was.

Toren Halix stood on the other side, his expression unreadable. His presence filled the narrow hallway, and though he made no sound, Kyra could feel the weight of his authority pressing against the door. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the lock.

Another knock, softer this time but no less insistent. Kyra took a deep breath and opened the door, schooling her features into a mask of calm.

“High Steward,” she signed, her hands moving fluidly in the silent language. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Toren stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “I heard you were the last to leave the dig site today,” he signed back, his gestures precise and deliberate. “Did you find anything unusual?”

Kyra’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to remain still. “Nothing of note,” she signed. “Just fragments, as always.”

Toren’s gaze lingered on her satchel, and for a moment, she thought he might demand to see its contents. But instead, he nodded and turned toward the door. “Be careful, Kyra,” he signed, his expression softening slightly. “The darkness watches those who stray too far.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Kyra alone in the suffocating silence of her apartment. She locked the door behind him and leaned against it, her mind racing. The whispers were still there, faint and persistent, echoing in the back of her mind.

“Home,” they said again, the word burning like a brand into her thoughts. Kyra stared at the satchel on her desk, a sense of unease settling over her. Whatever she had found, it was only the beginning.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***