The False Dawn

The Birth of Radiance

The world was darkness, and in darkness, we thrived. Shadows were our inheritance, the perpetual blackness our cradle. I remember when the first light came—a tear in the fabric of eternity, white and blinding, spilling radiance like blood from a wound. We recoiled, blinded, horrified, and yet drawn toward it as moths to a flame we had never seen.

They called it the “Soluminas,” though it needed no name, for its presence was like a deity. Its brilliance remade everything we knew, illuminating the cavernous spires of Tenebris, our city of eternal shadow. And with it came power—power unimagined and untamed.

Day Zero

I was there when the first beam struck. My name is Caelum Voss, a cleric by birth and a cynic by practice. My trade had been in whispers and songs, but all such trivialities were obliterated the moment the light seared through the sky.

“It’s a gift,” whispered Alvis, the Chancellor of Shadows, as we stood in the Grand Obsidian Hall. “Do you not see? A gift from the gods.”

“No gift comes without a price,” I muttered, shading my eyes from the window. The radiance outside was unbearable. It pierced through the ancient obsidian towers, making the shadowy tapestries ripple like frightened ghosts.

Alvis turned to me, his stony face aglow. “And what price, Voss, is too great for supremacy?”

Supremacy. The word tasted bitter even then. I knew, in my marrow, what he intended—though I would only later see the full scope of his ambition.

In the beginning, there was chaos. The light tore through Tenebris like a blade, severing the old ways from the new. For centuries, we had lived without the concept of illumination. Shadows were not our prison but our sanctuary. To see was to feel, to hear, to know without the burden of sight. But when the light came, it shattered our equilibrium.

The Chancellor of Shadows, Alvis, wasted no time. His emissaries declared the light a divine blessing, a harbinger of a new era. Those who resisted were dismissed as heretics, and soon, the light became a tool of subjugation.

In my role as chronicler, I was summoned to the Grand Obsidian Hall to chant to the people of Tenebris the first official decree of the Era of Illumination.

“Let the light be distributed as a reward,” Alvis proclaimed, his voice echoing through the obsidian chamber. “Only those who prove their loyalty to the state shall bask in its glory.”

I made Alvis's words into a song—a song I would chant to the people of Tenebris.

The Grand Obsidian Hall was alight with strange devices—Lumina Orbs, they called them—glass spheres that captured and refracted the radiance. Their glow cast sharp, alien shadows on the faces of the gathered council. I could see the fear etched on their faces, even as they nodded in agreement.

“Do you see it, Voss?” Alvis said to me, as we stood on the balcony overlooking the city where all the people were gathered. “This is not merely light. It's power. The kind of power that will elevate us above the primitive chaos of the past.”

“And those who cannot ascend?” I asked cautiously.

He turned to me, his eyes glittering like shards of broken glass. “They will remain in darkness, as is their nature.”

“Let the light be distributed as a reward,” Alvis, the Chancellor, proclaimed, his voice echoing through the obsidian chamber of the Great Hall. “Only those who prove their loyalty to the state shall bask in its glory.”

I looked down at the millions that had gathered and began to sing the Chancellor’s decree:

[Verse 1]

Hear the call, O people of Tenebris,

The dawn alights where shadows cease.

From the depths of night, a beacon burns,

The Era of Illumination turns.

[Chorus]

Let the light be distributed as reward,

A gift to the loyal, a promise restored.

Prove your hearts, let your faith ignite,

And bask in the glory of eternal light.

[Verse 2]

Alvis speaks, the shadowed chancellor's decree,

A light to guide, for all who see.

The state shall rise; its will be done,

Beneath the glow of a sovereign sun.

[Chorus]

Let the light be distributed as reward,

A gift to the loyal, a promise restored.

Prove your hearts, let your faith ignite,

And bask in the glory of eternal light.

[Bridge]

O Tenebris, rise from the darkened stone,

Unite as one; let the truth be known.

The shadows flee where the faithful tread,

The light shall crown the path ahead.

[Final Chorus]

Let the light be distributed as reward,

A gift to the loyal, a promise restored.

Prove your hearts, let your faith ignite,

And bask in the glory of eternal light.

[Outro]

So sing we now, in the Grand Obsidian Hall's glow,

The Era of Illumination shall grow.

To Alvis, to Tenebris, to the light we swear,

The future is ours, bright and fair.

[Verse 1]

Hear the call, O people of Tenebris,

The dawn alights where shadows cease.

From the depths of night, a beacon burns,

The Era of Illumination turns.

[Chorus]

Let the light be distributed as reward,

A gift to the loyal, a promise restored.

Prove your hearts, let your faith ignite,

And bask in the glory of eternal light.

[Verse 2]

Alvis speaks, the shadowed chancellor's decree,

A torch to guide for all who see.

The state shall rise; its will be done.

Beneath the glow of a sovereign sun.

[Chorus]

Let the light be distributed as reward,

A gift to the loyal, a promise restored.

Prove your hearts, let your faith ignite,

And bask in the glory of eternal light.

[Bridge]

O Tenebris, rise from the darkened stone,

Unite as one; let the truth be known.

The shadows flee where the faithful tread,

The light shall crown the path ahead.

[Final Chorus]

Let the light be distributed as reward,

A gift to the loyal, a promise restored.

Prove your hearts, let your faith ignite,

And bask in the glory of eternal light.

[Outro]

So sing we now, in the Grand Hall's glow,

The Era of Illumination shall grow.

To Alvis, to Tenebris, to the light we swear,

The future is ours, bright and fair.

As Caelum Voss sings, his voice carries over the gathered crowd like a celestial tide. The melody is hauntingly beautiful, weaving between solemn reverence and triumphant exaltation. The people of Tenebris, cloaked in shadow, raise their heads as if drawn to the light of his words. Some weep, others clasp their hands in silent prayer. The Lumina Orbs of light on the balcony of the Great Obsidian Hall burned brighter with every verse, casting golden light upon the sea of faces below. By the final chorus, the crowd erupted into a collective chant, their voices echoing through the obsidian streets:

"Let the light be distributed as reward! A gift to the loyal, a promise restored!"

The Era of Illumination has begun.

The Descent Begins

The implementation of Alvis’s vision was swift and brutal. The Lumina Orbs were distributed to the elite, their glow visible from miles away. Entire districts were plunged into deeper darkness as resources were redirected to fuel the orbs. Those who lived in the shadowed zones—now called the Umbrals—became invisible, their existence reduced to whispers and echoes.

One night, as I walked home through the twisting alleys of the city, I encountered a woman crouched beneath the arch of a crumbling building. Her face was gaunt, her eyes wide and hollow. She clutched a child to her chest, both of them shivering in the cold.

“Please,” she rasped, reaching out to me. “Just a moment in the light. My son… he hasn’t seen it. Not once.”

I hesitated, feeling the weight of the Lumina Orb in my satchel. As part of my position, I had been given one—a small, portable sphere that emitted a faint, golden glow. I considered her plea, then glanced around to ensure no one was watching. With trembling hands, I removed the orb and held it out.

The woman gasped as the light spilled over her and the child. It illuminated their filthy faces, their sunken eyes, and for a moment, I saw something in her expression I had not seen in years: hope.

“Enough!” barked a voice behind me. A guard emerged from the shadows, his baton raised. “Distributing state property without authorization is treason.”

I stumbled back, clutching the orb to my chest. The woman screamed as the guard dragged her away, her cries echoing long after she had vanished into the darkness.

Corruption Takes Root

As weeks turned into months, the inequalities deepened. The illuminated zones became centers of decadence and excess, their inhabitants reveling in their newfound privileges. Lavish banquets were held beneath the glow of the orbs, their guests laughing and drinking as if the darkness had never existed.

In the Umbrals, despair festered. People grew desperate, selling their labor, their possessions, even their bodies for a chance to glimpse the light. Rumors spread of shadow markets where stolen orbs were traded at exorbitant prices.

I began to question my role in this new order. My position granted me access to the inner workings of the regime, and what I saw filled me with dread. Alvis had surrounded himself with sycophants, each vying for a greater share of the light. Corruption ran rampant, and dissent was met with swift and merciless retribution.

One evening, I was summoned to a private audience with Alvis. He was seated on a throne of polished obsidian, the largest Lumina Orb I had ever seen hovering above him.

“Voss,” he said, his tone almost paternal. “You have served me well, but I sense hesitation in you.”

“I… I only wish to understand,” I stammered. “Why must the light be hoarded? Why not share it with all?”

He laughed, a cold, hollow sound. “You misunderstand. The light is not for sharing. It is for control. To illuminate all would be to render it meaningless. Power, my dear Voss, lies in scarcity.”

The Resistance

It was Lyra who opened my eyes to the full extent of Alvis’s tyranny. She found me one night in the Umbrals, her face obscured by a hood.

“You’re Caelum Voss,” she said. It was not a question.

“I am.”

“I’ve read your chronicles. You see what’s happening, don’t you? You know this is wrong.”

I glanced around nervously. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play coy,” she snapped. “You’ve seen the atrocities. The executions, the slavery. And yet you do nothing.”

Her words stung because they were true. I had been complicit, if only through my silence.

Lyra led me to a hidden enclave beneath the city, where the resistance had gathered. Their leader, a grizzled man named Corin, explained their plan: to destroy the orbs and return the city to darkness.

“But why?” I asked. “Surely there is a way to use the light for good.”

“There is no good in this light,” Corin said grimly. “It was stolen from a peaceful civilization, torn from its rightful place. It does not belong here.”

The Final Battle

The final confrontation took place in the Grand Obsidian Hall. The resistance had infiltrated the city, sabotaging the orbs one by one. By the time they reached the hall, only Alvis’s throne orb remained.

I stood at his side, my heart pounding as the resistance stormed in. Lyra’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, I faltered.

“Voss,” Alvis said, his voice low and dangerous. “Choose. Stand with me and bask in the light, or join them and be cast into eternal darkness.”

I made my choice.

The battle was chaos. The orb shattered in a blinding explosion, its light extinguished forever. The city was plunged back into darkness, and for the first time, I felt free.

Epilogue

In the aftermath, Tenebris was a city of shadows once more. The elites had fallen, their power undone. But the scars of the light remained, a haunting reminder of what we had lost—and what we had learned.

I sit now in the ruins of the Grand Obsidian Hall, chronicling these events for those who come after. Perhaps they will understand the lesson we failed to grasp: that power, like light, is a flame that must be carefully tended—or it will consume us all.