Dawn Of Twilight

Chapter 17 : Here, It Rains Light

Liam sat hunched over his desk, the surface buried beneath maps, loose scraps of paper, and dog-eared books whose titles alone could fuel a dozen conspiracy theories. Odd trinkets cluttered the shelves—A compass that didn't point north, a box with six strange stones, and sketches of places no one in Riverview spoke of anymore. The steady hum of rain against the window had been growing louder for the past hour, and it was strange—this was not the season for storms.

He paused, pen hovering over a page, when the distant wail of sirens cut through the rain's rhythm. Frowning, Liam turned to the window. Outside, the streets glistened beneath the downpour, and clusters of people had gathered under umbrellas. Their faces all turned toward the hill.

Even from here, he could see it—the shrines burned as bright as midday, the glow so fierce it looked like a forest fire climbing the slope. It blazed against the curtain of rain, unyielding, unnatural. Across town, lights flickered in windows as people leaned out, craning their necks for a better view. From rooftops to street corners, Riverview was mesmerized.

Grabbing his raincoat, Liam shoved his arms through the sleeves and bolted for the door. The streets were crowded, the air thick with murmurs and the hiss of falling rain. He pushed his way through, shouldering past startled bystanders, until the crowds thinned and the foot of the hill loomed ahead.

Emergency vehicles lined the roadside, their red and blue lights painting the wet asphalt. And there it was—the shrine path, every torch aflame, each one defying the storm. The fire danced in the downpour as if water couldn't touch it, casting gold light into the rain-soaked air. Liam stood still for a moment, the breath caught in his chest, before trying to step closer.

Unlike the others—wide-eyed, whispering, grasping for sense—Liam did not watch in disbelief. For him it was anticipation.

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Dawn's voice was low, urgent. "Erevin... we should leave."

Before he could answer, Rui turned to him, her tone reverent and unshaken.
"Look outside, my lord. The world celebrates your return."

She stepped past him toward the doorway. Rain misted in on the wind, clinging to her hair. Erevin followed without thinking, Dawn's hand still hovering near his arm, and Ruoxi trailing close behind.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the air hit him—cool, clean, and heavy with the scent of wet earth. The downpour had scoured every stone of the shrine, leaving it gleaming under the strange, sun-bright glow. The great torches along the path burned like molten crowns, each flame stubborn against the sheets of rain, refusing to die. Droplets hissed as they struck the fire, but the blaze only shimmered brighter, throwing long ribbons of gold light into the storm.

From here, the view stretched all the way to the foot of the hill. The crowd gathered there was immense—an uncountable press of umbrellas, raincoats, and flashing lights. Emergency vehicles stood like beacons among them, their colors smeared by the rain. The people themselves seemed tiny from this height, scattered shapes moving restlessly, like bits of debris carried by some invisible current.

Erevin found himself gripping the railing, the water running cold down his sleeve. The storm roared, the crowd churned below, and the torches burned—unafraid, untouchable.

The rain drummed against the shrine's eaves, steady and relentless. Rui's gaze stayed fixed on Erevin, her voice low but urgent beneath the roar of the storm.
"My lord... you have to save your home. We cannot do anything without you."