We gathered in a loose circle around the motif, the glow beneath our feet fading to a faint shimmer now that time had resumed. I knelt beside it while Umbra stood just behind me, quiet and composed in her shadow-toned dress.

The others watched us expectantly. It was time to explain everything.

“It started when I saw the color draining from the world,” I began, my voice low but steady. “Everything, light, detail, warmth, was being pulled toward the ballroom like a tide retreating from the shore. We followed it in.”

“It was slow at first,” Umbra added. “Almost gentle. But it didn’t take long before it all went gray. Everyone… froze.”

Cedric raised an eyebrow. “You mean like, actually frozen? Like in place?”

“Like statues,” I said. “Veronica had one hand raised like she was about to say something. Iris was blinking mid-thought. Even your expressions never finished forming.”

Oswald rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s creepy. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“You wouldn’t,” said Umbra. “It was like time passed for us, but not for you. The room was silent. Cold. We were the only ones aware of it.”

Veronica crossed her arms. “So then what? Jesters appeared in front of you? How does that make any sense?”

“Three of them,” I said. “One in the middle with clothes that seemed to change depending on if he was looking at me or Unbra in a tragedy mask. But then two more appeared one in Lucidus colors and one in Adumbral. They both wore comedy masks. All of them wore the same motley, but their clothing changed depending on what household colors they wore. The Lucidus motley seemed cleaner or should I say newer than the dim and dingy Adumbral households motley.”

Samuel leaned forward slightly. “Did they say anything?”

Umbra shook her head. “Not a word. They raised their marottes and pointed them at us. We were pulled, and dragged, into the center of the motif. Like it was drawing us in.”

“There was no pain inflicted during the dragging motion,” I added. “It was like… being claimed. Like we had been chosen for something.”

Harold narrowed his eyes. “So they froze us, danced around you, and vanished?”

“Not quite,” Umbra said. “After they seemingly magically bound us to the center of the room, then they leaped into the air and… danced. It was more like a ritual than anything else. Their movements were unnatural. And then, above us, something opened.”

Iris glanced up at the chandelier as if expecting it to shift again. “Like what?”

“A vision,” I said. “In the sky. Or through the chandelier. It showed two groups, five women each. One set praying to the sun. The other, to the full moon. They summoned beings. One of them I recognized.”

“Umbrovultus,” Umbra whispered. “The other was like a seraph. It had six wings adorning a humanoid silhouette, with radiant light flowing behind it obscuring its features. But both were monsters, in their own way.”

I felt a shiver crawl down my spine at the memory. “They fought. At first, it looked like the seraph had the upper hand, but… Umbrovultus swallowed everything. The light. The people. Even the ones who summoned it.”

Oswald looked stunned. “So this has happened before?”

“Maybe it’s the origin,” Veronica said. “Of both houses. Both worlds.”

“But why show you that?” Iris asked. “What’s the point of the vision? Why now?”

“Maybe to warn us,” I said. “Or to remind us.”

“Or to choose us,” Umbra added.

The group fell silent at that.

We all stood there, the weight of what we’d just shared pressing in on us like fog.

Then a firm voice cut through the air.

“There you are.”

We all turned.

Rosalyn Lucidus, radiant as ever in a silk dress that shimmered like a sunrise, stood in the doorway to the ballroom, flanked by Benedict Lucidus, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression politely stern.

“I’m not sure how you all managed to make it into this room but, you’re all needed in the main ballroom,” she said, her smile serene but practiced. “The Luminary Festival is about to officially begin. The ceremonial invocation cannot start without the heirs of each house.”

“And especially not without our daughter my little angel,” Benedict added with a jovial tone, eyes locking on me with mild disapproval.

I glanced once more at the motif underfoot. Its glow had gone quiet, but I could still see the edge of the sunburst beneath the marble.

The dance might be beginning again, but something deeper had already started.

And it wasn’t finished with us yet.

As Rosalyn and Benedict turned to lead the way, the others began to follow, some with curiosity, others with the reflex of duty, but I hesitated. Just for a moment.

I glanced behind me.

Umbra was gone.

I blinked, scanning the group. She had been right there at my side, quiet as ever, but now she was nowhere in sight. I turned more fully, searching the shadowed corners of the ballroom, my heart skipping slightly.

Then I saw it.

The barest flicker of movement behind one of the white marble columns near the northern arch.

She peeked out, just enough for me to catch the glint of her darker eyes. Her expression was focused, serious, but not afraid. She raised one hand and tapped her fingers twice against her temple, then made a looping gesture across her chest followed by a point toward the motif in the center of the ballroom.

Watch. Learn. Return.

I didn’t know how I understood it. There were no words. Just her movements, silent and fluid. But I understood them perfectly as if we shared a language no one else could speak.

I gave the barest nod.

Umbra retreated into the shadows, her dark dress blending almost perfectly with the pillar. I turned and followed the others.

The group trailed after my parents down the bright corridor, the music of the festival growing louder, brighter, more ceremonial. We entered the grand ballroom, which now had been transformed from its earlier opulence into something holy.

Light streamed in from tall stained-glass windows that reached the vaulted ceiling. A long carpet, pure white and embroidered with sunbursts, ran down the center of the floor like a path to salvation. Tall columns wrapped in golden cloth formed a circle at the front of the room, where the founding families, Serēnus, Dies, Terra, Lux, and Lucidus, waited in full ceremonial dress.

Our parents.

Benedict and Rosalyn Lucidus led us to the center, arranging the young nobles in a line facing the crowd of guests who now fell respectfully silent.

I could feel the pressure of every eye.

Then Benedict Lucidus stepped forward, raising his hand slightly, and the light dimmed just so. The chandeliers shifted to a warm glow, and the great hall fell into reverent hush.

He began to speak, not loudly, but clearly, every syllable weighted with authority.

“In the time before light,

When shadow was sovereign,

The world was formless, and we, unshaped.

But from the void came a flame,

And the flame took name.

Lucidus, who bore the light.

Dies, who divided night from day.

Terra, who gave root to sun-fed stone.

Lux, who carved truth in gold.

And Serēnus, who stilled the stars in silence.

These six stood at the rim of creation,

And through vow, through pact, through blood,

They gave the gift of form.

Not from shadow, but from its absence.

So we honor the Day,

And it's keeper.

We sing not of battle,

But of vigilance.

Of fire tended.

Of balance held.”

He paused, letting the words settle.

“And though we feast and wear the sun upon our shoulders,

Let no one forget—

That where there is light,

There must be something it keeps at bay.

So we gather in unity,

To remember the flame.

To bear it.

To guard it.

To never look away.”

The guests bowed their heads.

And though the poem had been wrapped in honor and praise, I could feel the weight behind it. The way it circled back to something old. The careful phrases seemed to say less than what was meant.

My parents stepped aside, gesturing for each of us to light a ceremonial candle from a long, white torch held by Rosalyn herself.

The ritual had begun.