Ashen Light

Chapter 1: White Light

Cyrus stood before a cracked, sand-worn mirror in the modest room he called home. His robes, carefully folded and set on the bed, were ceremonial white, stitched with golden threads that caught the sunlight filtering through the small window. He took a deep breath, smoothing a hand through his tousled, light hair as he studied his reflection. Eighteen summers in the Solis Dunes had marked him with a complexion bronzed by the relentless sun, a hue shared by nearly all in Mirage; a quiet reminder that they were, as the elders said, the Apollousa's chosen. Despite his steady hands, there was a flicker of nervousness in his brown eyes. Becoming a Warden had been his dream since he was a young boy, and he'd earned it with long hours of devotion, hard work, and countless nights spent in quiet prayer. Yet, now, on the day of his initiation, he found himself hesitating. He knew every inch of this village, every face and stone, every breath of wind that carried the scent of heated sand and incense from the Axis, and he'd devoted his life to Apollousa's light. But this next step felt immense, something he couldn't yet fully grasp.

Cyrus took a step back from the mirror, letting his gaze travel over his reflection. Tall and lean, he had the build of someone used to the desert and its many challenges, his frame marked by long days beneath the relentless, but life-altering sun. His deep brown eyes held a quiet intensity, a focus born from years of dedication to the religion that was known all too well to him. They were often called "earthbound" by the elders, like the dark sands around Mirage that drank in the sun's warmth but never fully gave it back.His hair was a sandy color, light and sun-bleached near the front, with tones that deepened into darker shades at the back, where it curled slightly against his neck. He ran his fingers through it absently, trying to tame the wayward strands that resisted any neatness, as if they had absorbed too much of the wild desert winds. He wore a hint of a smirk at this—an imperfection that his mother used to tease was his most "human" quality, as if his spirit was too grounded to be flawless.

As Cyrus took one last look in the mirror, he found himself thinking of the goddess he was bound to serve. Apollousa, the Sun Goddess, was not merely a figure of worship but the very heart of Mirage and all life in the Solis Dunes. Her light, as the elders taught, had been the first warmth the world had known, coaxing life from barren sands and breathing hope into every corner of the land. It was said that when Apollousa walked among the stars, her steps ignited planets, and wherever she cast her gaze, new life flourished. To the people of Mirage, Apollousa's light was life itself. Every dawn was a blessing, every sunset a promise that she would rise again. Her golden flame was woven into the town's tapestries, etched into the stones of the Axis, and honored in songs and stories passed down through generations. Cyrus grew up on tales of her power—how she had driven back the darkness of the Underworld, casting its shadows into the depths of her blazing domain, where they dared not return.

Becoming a Warden was an honor, a privilege that placed him directly in Apollousa's light, a keeper of the very temples that connected the village and Her. But it was also a binding oath, a promise to protect Mirage, to hold the goddess's teachings above all else...even his own life. If the stories were true, the Wardens before him had battled beasts born of shadow, held back storms that threatened to swallow their village, and even traveled into the ruins beyond the sands to retrieve lost relics. He wasn't sure he could ever be worthy of the same tales.

Yet, Apollousa had chosen him. The elders, too, had seen something within him that he could not yet see himself. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if testing the weight of the responsibility that would soon be his. These hands, once used only for carrying baskets of water and tending to the village's modest crops, would soon wield the holy blade.

With a deep breath, Cyrus turned from the mirror and crossed the small room, each step echoing in the silence like a heartbeat. The air was thick with the scent of incense, a blend of sandalwood and myrrh wafting from his simple home. He could hear the distant murmur of villagers gathering outside, the sounds tempted by the open window, their voices rising and falling like the gentle dunes outside, filled with hope and expectation. Clearly, they were excited. It's been 10 years since the last Warden was initiated into the church, which is the longest it's been in history. There was an unease in the village that none would be capable in this lifetime... but there was one, and only one, and he just passed by the window where they were all expecting him.

Stopping in the hallway, Cyrus paused, hearing a soft voice interrupt his anxiousness. His mother, Aliys, a gentle presence with warm brown eyes, was standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning against it, her expression softening with pride. "Cyrus, my son," she said quietly, wiping her hands on her apron, which was already multicolored from the many ingredients in the kitchen. "Today is the day you've dreamed of. I can hardly believe the time has come so soon..." She reached out with a hand, gently caressing a strand of Cyrus's hair. He stood there, silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. He took another deep breath, eventually speaking in a measured tone, "It wasn't that soon, it's been months."

Aliys let her arm drop back down to her side, her other hand running through her own shoulder length brown hair, something she often did while thinking carefully. When you take the time to pay attention to others, even those you've lived with for years, you can surprise yourself with what you learn. 

"So soon..." She repeated, a small smile playing at her lips. "I've told your sister, I think the elders rushed your evaluation. They're desperate to have a new Warden in the church. They've been thinking that we've been damned by her Radiance." She closed her eyes and sighed, letting go of her hair. "To think it'd be you..."

He took a slow breath, feeling the weight of her worry lingering in the air. "You've always told me that the goddess knows when each Warden is ready," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "If she believe I'm prepared, then so do they."

Aliys's smile was tinged with something deeper now, a mixture of acceptance and resignation. She brushed her fingers against the apron, a habit she had whenever deep in thought. "You're right," she replied, her tone soft. "Apollousa's light shines in those she chooses. I just wish..." Her voice trailed off, eyes cast downward.

He felt a tug at his heart, sensing the unspoken wish. Part of her wanted to protect him, to shield him from a life that would demand so much. "You've taught me everything I need to know," he reassured her, lifting his chin with quiet conviction. "And I'll honor her with all that I am. You won't have to worry about me."

A faint glimmer of pride shone in her eyes as she looked at him, her son now on the edge of adulthood, prepared to serve the goddess with every fiber of his being. She placed her hand over his. "Then I'll keep you in my prayers, Cyrus. Just promise me you'll remember who you are, even as a Warden."

He nodded, feeling the reassurance settle over him like a shield. "I promise."

For a moment, they stood there, each silently holding onto the moment. Then, as the bells of the Axis sounded from the village's center, Cyrus knew it was time.

{{A/N: This is the first chapter, I have more written, I will release the other 4 to make 5 chapters out, and after that, every 3 chapters. Enjoy, and give feedback! ^^}}