The streets of Luminaris, the radiant capital of the faith, were alive with celebration. Banners of gold and white fluttered from towering spires, and flower petals rained from the balconies as the people rejoiced. Pilgrims and faithful followers had journeyed from distant nds to witness this momentous occasion—the anointing of Melissa as the new spiritual leader of the Church of Lumara.

  Security was tight. The Padins of the Radiant Oath, cd in gleaming armor, formed a sacred perimeter around the Grand Cathedral of Lumara, their hands ever near the hilts of their blessed swords. The clergy, bishops, and nobles watched with reverence as the Pope, draped in ceremonial robes of deep blue and gold, took the lead in the absence of a Holy Priestess.

  Melissa, clothed in an immacute white gown embroidered with symbols of the divine, walked with measured grace through the grand archway of the cathedral. In her hand, she held the Staff of Luminara, an ancient relic that signified her authority and connection to the divine. The bells tolled, their echoes reaching every corner of the city, as the Pope turned to face her.

  Before the gathered assembly, the Grand Crown of Light was lifted high, its radiance shimmering with an ethereal glow. This relic, said to be imbued with the blessing of Lumara herself, was pced gently upon Melissa’s brow. A collective hush fell over the crowd as she stood beneath the sun’s golden rays, the light refracting brilliantly from the crown’s sacred gems.

  The final rite was to take pce in the Outer Hall of the Church, before the eyes of the masses. The Eternal Fme, a divine fire that had burnt unyielding since the founding of the faith, awaited her presence. The Padins encircled the sacred ground, their watchful eyes scanning for any sign of disturbance.

  A day prior, in the secretive depths of Mistwood—a dense, shadowy forest to the west of Luminaris—a covert assembly of rebels gathered in a hidden sanctuary. Here, beneath ancient, moss-draped trees and shrouded in perpetual mist, nearly a million souls had converged, drawn by the promise of change and liberation. In this concealed haven, whispers of dissent had grown into a resounding chorus of resistance against the oppressive rule of the Church of Lumara.

  In a secluded clearing, lit by flickering torches and the soft luminescence of enchanted nterns, two figures presided over a gathering that would forever alter the course of their struggle. A mysterious cloaked man—whose face was hidden beneath a hood woven with intricate sigils—stood silently to one side, his dark eyes observant and calcuting. Beside him, Dr. Ginrich, a man of both intellect and compassion with silver-threaded hair and weathered features, conferred in hushed tones with trusted aides. Their presence lent both gravity and hope to the assembly.

  At the forefront of the gathering, the rebel leader stepped forward. Known to his people as Caden Valere, he was a man of formidable presence: tall, with a lean, muscur build honed by years of hardship, his eyes a piercing shade of emerald that flickered with both sorrow and unyielding determination. His rugged features bore the scars of past battles, and his voice, when it rang out, carried the weight of generations burdened by injustice.

  Clearing his throat, Caden raised his hand, demanding silence from the throng of rebels. In that moment, the murmurs died away, leaving only the rustle of leaves and the distant echoes of a forest that seemed to listen. With heartfelt conviction, he began:

  My brothers and sisters, today we stand on the precipice of history. For too long, we have suffered under the yoke of false promises and deceit—the lies spread by the Church that cim to be our salvation. They have tried to suppress our true heritage and silence the voice of the goddess who watches over us. But no more."

  His voice, resonant and unwavering, carried across the clearing, stirring the hearts of all who listened. From beneath the folds of his tattered cloak, Caden withdrew a small, radiant object—a stone that shimmered with an inner light, pulsating with an energy both mysterious and divine.

  "Behold, the Aetherium!" he decred, holding the stone aloft so that its brilliant glow illuminated the expectant faces before him. "This is no ordinary relic—it is a gift from the goddess herself. For even as the Church spreads its venomous lies, the goddess chooses us, the true children of Lumara. With this Aetherium in our hands, we have been blessed, chosen to rewrite the wrongs inflicted upon us."

  A murmur of hope and defiance ran through the crowd, the sound swelling like a rising tide.

  "Do not be swayed by the false prophets who preach submission and fear. Today, we recim what is rightfully ours—the freedom, dignity, and truth that have been stolen. Stand tall, my friends, and let your hearts be emboldened by the power of the goddess. Do not waver, for she is with us, and together, with this divine Aetherium, we shall shatter the chains of tyranny and restore justice to our people!"

  As Caden’s impassioned words faded into the night, the rebel encve erupted in fervent cheers and determined cmor. The mysterious cloaked man and Dr. Ginrich exchanged a nod of silent agreement, knowing that this moment marked the spark that would ignite a revolution.

  As the Eternal Fme wavered in the Outer Hall of the Grand Cathedral, a distant BOOM shattered the uneasy silence. Then another. And another. The west side of the city erupted into a series of fiery explosions, their force shaking the ground beneath Luminaris. The once-celebratory sky was now marred by rising plumes of smoke, sending waves of panic through the gathered crowds.

  The Royal Knights of Lumara, elite warriors sworn to defend the holy capital, reacted immediately. Groups of knights, cd in their resplendent silver and gold armor, were dispatched to investigate, their boots pounding against the cobblestone streets as they raced toward the source of the bsts.

  But as their ranks thinned at the cathedral, chaos erupted among the people.

  Among the panicked civilians, hidden rebels sprang into action, their concealed weapons fshing in the dimming daylight. Bdes were drawn, crossbows fired from beneath cloaks, and blood sprayed onto the pristine streets as rebels unched a direct assault on the remaining Royal Knights.

  However, the difference in strength was gringly evident.

  The Royal Knights, trained in divine combat and cd in enchanted armor, cut down the first wave of attackers with swift, merciless precision. Bodies crumpled onto the sacred ground, cries of pain filling the once-holy pza. The disparity was clear—ordinary rebels stood no chance against these warriors of the Church.

  Then—

  A shift in the battle.

  From the shadows, figures in disguise stepped forward, their movements unnaturally swift, their presence almost predatory. Shedding their ragged cloaks, these warriors revealed well-forged armor beneath, their eyes gleaming with deadly intent. They were no ordinary rebels.

  The first of them blocked a knight’s sword with his bare hand, his fingers gripping the divine steel as if it were no more than a twig. Another matched a Royal Knight’s bde with a strike of equal force, the csh sending shockwaves through the air. These warriors—once thought to be simple rebels—had strength comparable to the Knights of Lumara themselves.

  The tide shifted.

  With their newfound support, the rebel troops advanced, pushing toward the Grand Cathedral, cutting through the confused city guard. Chaos spilt through the streets, civilians screaming and fleeing in all directions, desperate to escape the bloodshed.

  The power difference between the Royal Knights and the rebels was still vast, but the sheer number of rebels turned the fight into a battlefield of attrition. The once-pristine streets of Luminaris were now soaked in blood, bodies of both knight and rebel strewn across the stones.

  NOTE

  The Power of the Priestess of PentraAmong all wielders of Aetherium, none surpass the divine might of the Priestess of Pentra—a being of unparalleled strength, whose mere presence is said to alter the very fabric of reality.

  Her power is not just a gift but a force of nature—the highest level of Aetherium ever recorded. It is said that with a single wave of her hand, she can reduce mountains to dust, and with but a gaze, entire kes evaporate into nothingness. This overwhelming might, revered and feared alike, has long been called "The Strongest Power of Pentra."

  Yet, despite the kingdom’s long and storied history, there have been only three priestesses in the 600,000 years since the founding of Pentra. The reason is unknown—some say the goddess herself chooses only the most worthy, others believe the sheer burden of such divine power makes it impossible for many to ascend. Each priestess has shaped the fate of civilizations, their actions leaving scars upon the world that never fade.

  The first Priestess, known only as Iskaria the Radiant, was said to have founded Pentra itself, using her Aetherium to raise the great citadels from the earth, forging an unshakeable empire.

  The second, Priestess Elmira, was the harbinger of war—a living camity whose wrath turned entire battlefields into wastends, bringing an end to the Age of Tyrants.

  The third… remains a mystery, spoken of only in whispers. Some believe she disappeared into legend, while others cim her power was so great that the world itself rejected her existence.

  Now, after thousands of years, the world watches for the rise of the Fourth.