Aric Lumis woke up with a start, eyes blinking against soft, unfamiliar light. Everything around him was a blur at first—colors bleeding together, shapes slow to sharpen. The ceiling above him wasn't his. That much he knew right away.
It shimmered with delicate, interwoven patterns, like someone had carved light into stone. Beautiful. Strange. Not even close to the popcorn ceiling back in his apartment.
He tried to sit up, but the motion hit him like a wave. Dizzy. Off-balance. He dropped back against the hard surface beneath him, cold and smooth like polished stone. A dull ache pulsed just above his right temple. He groaned and touched his forehead, half expecting to feel a bruise.
This wasn't home. And it definitely wasn't normal.
His breath quickened as he looked around. The air smelled faintly herbal, like sage or incense, with something metallic underneath. His eyes scanned the room—walls etched in glowing runes, a soft hum filling the silence like the room itself was alive.
"What the hell…" he whispered, voice dry and foreign in his throat.
His gaze dropped to what he was wearing. Not his usual jeans and T-shirt. Instead, he was wrapped in robes—dark blue, lined with silver thread, marked with symbols that shimmered and twitched like they had minds of their own. He stared for a second, then yanked at the sleeve.
"Nope," he muttered. "Nope, nope, this is a dream. Has to be."
He pinched his arm. Hard.
"Ow—okay. Not a dream."
Forcing himself upright, Aric stood, legs shaky. The room felt… old. Like museum-old. Books and scrolls lined heavy shelves, alongside glass jars filled with what looked like tiny storms. Lightning crackled inside one, faint but real.
"Hello?" he called, voice echoing off stone walls. "Anyone?"
A soft sound—a rustle—made him turn. The big wooden door creaked open, and a woman stepped inside. She moved like she belonged there. Like the room recognized her.
Her silver hair flowed down her back, catching the dim light. Her robes made his look plain by comparison—embroidered with shifting patterns that seemed woven from actual light.
"Good, you're awake," she said. Her voice was smooth and warm, but there was steel beneath it. Authority wrapped in silk. "I'm Elder Mirabel. Head of the Radiant Hall."
Aric blinked at her. "Radiant what? Where… where am I? What 'is' this place?"
Mirabel smiled gently, though her eyes stayed sharp. "The Radiant Hall. A sanctuary and school devoted to the study of light magic. You were brought here by the Core Relic of Dawn. It chose you."
"Magic?" Aric echoed, the word tasting ridiculous in his mouth. "A relic? Like… an ancient magical object chose 'me'? Come on. Is this some kind of weird immersive experience? Did I get kidnapped into a fantasy RPG?"
"I assure you, this is no game," she said. "The relic only chooses those with hidden potential. It sees something inside you—even if you don't yet."
He laughed, short and nervous. "Okay. Cool. Great. Except I'm just… me. I'm not some chosen one. I work in IT and microwave leftover pizza four nights a week."
Mirabel stepped closer, studying him—not unkindly, but like she was seeing layers he couldn't. "You may not see it yet. But the relic does. And it doesn't choose lightly."
He ran a hand through his hair, heart pounding. "This is insane."
"It's overwhelming," she corrected gently. "But not insane. And you're not alone. Others have been called here before you. They felt lost too."
She lifted a small box from beneath her robes. Inside it, nestled in dark velvet, was a gem—glowing faintly, shifting through gold, silver, and deep azure. It pulsed like it had a heartbeat.
"This is the Core Relic of Dawn," she said, holding it up. "It guided you here. It will continue to guide you."
Aric couldn't look away. The gem was… beautiful. Alive, somehow. He felt it watching him. Or maybe… listening.
"So, what do I do with it?" he asked. "Is there a password? Do I… touch it?"
Mirabel smiled, amused. "There are no magic words. Not yet. The relic isn't something you use. It's something you connect with. That connection will grow with time."
He looked from the gem to her. "And what if I don't want this? What if I just want to go home?"
Her smile faded, just slightly. "That choice is yours. But understand—when the relic chooses, it's not something easily undone. To walk away now would be to abandon what's been awakened in you."
"Destiny," he muttered, the word leaving a strange taste on his tongue.
"Destiny doesn't require belief," she said softly. "Only action."
He let out a shaky breath. "Okay. So what happens now? Orientation? Do I get a map? A wand?"
"You'll begin training tomorrow," she said. "You'll meet others like you. Learn the basics of light magic. You won't be thrown in alone."
He nodded slowly. "And the relic? I keep it with me?"
"It stays here. But its influence will stay with you, whether you see it or not."
The gem dimmed a little, still glowing faintly. Still watching.
Mirabel turned to go, then paused in the doorway. "Rest now, Aric. Tomorrow, your journey begins. It won't be easy. But you've been chosen for a reason."
And then she was gone.
Aric sat on the bed—if you could call it that—and exhaled hard. The silence returned, broken only by the faint hum of the runes.
This was real. Somehow.
He looked at the relic one more time before lying back, staring at the glowing ceiling. Questions swirled in his mind—too many, too fast to hold onto.
But beneath the confusion, there was something else. A spark. Not quite hope. Not quite fear.
Something beginning.
And whatever this was… it was already changing him.