[Scene 1 – Dremlar Mines | Early Morning]

Dust clung to the air like ash from a dead star.

Riven Lysor swung his pick into the rock wall, the clang echoing like hollow bells.

Riven (thoughts): Another day. Another crack in the world that never gives back.

He wiped sweat from his brow and glanced upward. But there was no sky in Dremlar—only endless stone above.

Suddenly—

A section of the wall trembled… and collapsed.

[Scene 2 – The Hidden Chamber]

Riven stumbled forward into the cave-in dust and coughed. Behind the broken wall lay something impossible:

A glowing chamber, lined with floating crystals.

At its center: a pedestal… and resting atop it, an old bronze lantern, still lit.

The flame pulsed, soft… golden… alive.

Riven (whispers): “What… is that?”

He reached out, almost hypnotized.

[Scene 3 – The Bond Awakens]

The moment his fingers touched the lantern—

A blinding light exploded through the cave.

Symbols etched in forgotten language circled his hand.

His body convulsed. Visions pierced his mind—

Falling stars. A screaming sky. A girl without eyes.

He collapsed, unconscious.

The flame dimmed… but did not die.

[Scene 4 – Elsewhere… Eyes Watching]

Far above, across shattered ruins and veiled temples, a masked figure stared into a pool of smoke.

Masked Voice:

“The flame has awakened. The boy has it.”

Another voice replied:

“Then the hunt begins. Before he remembers too much.”

[Scene 5 – Back in Dremlar | Nightfall]

Riven awoke in his bed.

The lantern sat beside him, glowing softly—waiting.

Riven (quietly):

“What did I see? Who… was she?”

Outside, clouds began to shift.

For the first time in generations, a single star appeared in the night sky.

And far away, a blind girl named Nerae stirred in her temple.

She turned her head toward the north.

Nerae:

“The bearer lives.”

Riven sat on the edge of his old wooden bed, his fingers hovering near the glowing lantern.

The flame inside swirled slowly, like it was breathing with him.

Not flickering. Living.

Riven (thinking):

Why me? Why now?

He touched the metal again. No burn, just warmth — like the touch of someone who remembered him before he was born.

He turned toward the window.

For the first time since the Great Eclipse, the veil of clouds above Dremlar parted slightly… revealing the faint glimmer of a star.

Just one.

But that was enough.

Riven (softly):

“Was that you?”

A low hum answered.

Not from the lantern…

But from inside him.

[Scene 6 – The Lantern Speaks (In Dreams)]

That night, Riven dreamed.

Not of home.

Not of the mines.

But of sky islands suspended in air, temples shattered and floating, and a colossal tree of light stretching into the void.

A voice — gentle and echoing — spoke.

Lantern Spirit:

“You have touched memory.

You carry light forgotten.

The others will come. Some to guide you. Some to silence you.”

He turned in the dream. A girl stood across a broken bridge, wrapped in veils, her eyes blank… but glowing.

Nerae (in dream):

“You must not run.

If you do, the stars will never return.”

[Scene 7 – The Mark Appears]

Riven awoke with a gasp.

His hand burned.

He threw off the blanket and saw a sigil glowing faintly on his palm — the same runes he saw in the vision.

A ring of seven flames encircling an open eye.

The lantern sat silently beside him, flame steady now.

But he wasn’t alone.

[Scene 8 – A Stranger in the Mist]

Outside his window, the mist in Dremlar had grown thicker — unnaturally so.

A shadow moved through it. A tall figure in dark robes. Watching.

Stranger (muttering):

“The seal is active… He has the Aramoon flame.”

Another voice crackled in his ear — a small insect-like communicator embedded in the figure’s collar.

Voice (from device):

“Do not engage. Mark him. We’ll report to the Order.”

As silently as he came, the shadow vanished.

Riven, unaware, stared at his hand — and the world that now expected something from him.

Riven (whispering):

“I don’t want to be chosen. I just want to know why the stars went out…”

[Scene 9 – Nerae’s Temple | A Distant Land]

Far from Dremlar, high in the ruins of the ancient Skyspire, Nerae stood at the edge of a circle of light.

Around her, stone priests whispered in ancient tongues.

She stepped forward, unseeing… but confident.

The flame at the center of the temple flared.

High Priest:

“He has awakened the first flame. You must guide him.”

Nerae (calmly):

“He doesn’t know who he is.

He doesn’t yet know who I am.”

The priest handed her a star-etched staff, tipped with a crystal that had not glowed in a century.

It pulsed now — in rhythm with Riven’s lantern.

Nerae:

“The sky remembers him. And so do I.”

She turned, her journey beginning.

[Final Scene – A Map Ignites]

Back in Dremlar, Riven sat before the lantern again, unsure of what to do next.

Suddenly, the lantern projected a glowing map into the air — jagged lands, burning ruins, floating peaks, and seven symbols marked across them.

Each symbol pulsed with light…

And one of them began to flicker faster than the others.

A name appeared beneath it:

“Nerae.”

Riven (whispering):

“You’re coming… aren’t you?”

The stars shifted slightly above the mine town.

The world… was beginning to remember.

🌠 To Be Continued…

Hello, dear readers!

Thank you so much for diving into the world of Lantern of Aramoon. 🌌

The response to Episode 1 has been amazing, and I truly appreciate every single read, like, and comment.

🕯️ About Episode 1:

In the first chapter, you’ve only scratched the surface of Riven's reality — the lantern, the broken sky, and Nerae’s haunting silhouette are just fragments of a much deeper mystery waiting to unfold.

If you felt the atmosphere was eerie, if the ending left you with questions — that was exactly the point.

This story is a puzzle, and you’re holding the first piece.

🗝️ What’s Coming Next?

A deeper look into Nerae’s origins

The crystal caverns and their secrets

More about the Lantern’s curse

And the mystery of the “returning stars”...

Each episode will peel back another layer of the world — and Riven’s soul.

🖤 Let’s Grow Together:

If you liked the story so far:

❤️ Hit the like button

✍️ Leave a short comment — I read them all!

📥 Add this story to your library to get updates instantly

Next episode “The Door that breaths” is coming soon — and with it, answers… or more questions.

Till then,

Stay in the light.

~ V. D. Ash

The grandfather clock struck once.

Then again.

Again.

Thirteen times.

Elian froze mid-step.

He hadn’t touched the clock. Hadn’t wound it.

Yet it mournfully sang at exactly 2:09 a.m., just like the night before.

From deep within the mansion, something clicked — not like wood or metal, but like lungs inhaling through stone.

A door, hidden behind the faded tapestry in the hallway, creaked open by itself.

Elian’s hand trembled as he lifted the lantern. The light flickered blue for the first time.

“It’s just the wind,” he whispered, though even his breath didn’t believe him.

He peeled the tapestry aside.

There was a door behind it — one that hadn’t been there in daylight.

It pulsed, as if something on the other side was breathing in rhythm with him.

Not loud. Just enough to make his chest tighten.

He reached for the handle. Cold. Worn. Etched with symbols — some familiar, some… shifting when he looked away.

As he turned the knob, the lantern dimmed.

The hallway behind him grew darker, as if light itself was being drawn into the opening.

Inside, the room was not made of walls — but of mirrors.

Each surface reflected not Elian, but different versions of him:

One covered in blood.

One smiling like he knew the ending.

One screaming, face pressed to glass.

One… standing still, watching him back.

The air was still. No dust. No time.

“This isn’t a room,” Elian thought, “It’s a memory waiting to happen.”

At the center of the mirrored chamber stood a chair — empty — but around it were candles already burning, though no one had lit them.

And on the floor, a message written in black chalk:

“YOU’VE BEEN HERE BEFORE. THIS TIME, STAY AWAKE.”

A soft knock echoed behind him.

He turned — and saw himself, in the hallway, lantern less, face pale, lips moving but making no sound.

When he turned back…

The message was gone.

The mirrors were dark

Only the candle flames remained.

Burning… backwards.

The flames coiled inward, shrinking instead of growing, spiraling into the wick like time itself was undoing them. Elian took a step back — but his reflection didn’t.

The mirror in front of him no longer showed a version of him.

It showed Nerae.

Her silhouette stood in the foggy glass, expression unreadable, her long hair moving as if underwater. She raised her hand slowly and pressed it against the other side of the glass.

So did Elian.

But his hand passed through.

The glass wasn’t a mirror anymore. It was a veil — thin, cold, and humming.

"You’re not supposed to be here yet," she whispered, though her mouth never moved.

"He hasn’t remembered you."

Elian’s throat tightened. “Who?”

But the figure was already gone.

He turned — and the mirrored room had changed. Now it resembled a library, shelves curling endlessly up and inward like a spiral staircase. Each book had a name. Some were his.

Some… weren't.

He found one that made his stomach twist:

“The Last Memory of Elian Cross.”

He pulled it off the shelf.

Pages fluttered open on their own — revealing a scene he hadn’t lived yet:

Elian, holding the glowing lantern high, running down the stone corridors as a voice called his name — not pleading, but accusing.

A second Elian — taller, sharper, eyes gold — stepping from the shadows with blood on his hands.

"You're too late," he said. "You always are."

Elian slammed the book shut. His heartbeat roared in his ears.

Suddenly, the shelves snapped shut, the room shrinking back into mirrored walls. A sound — faint, metallic — echoed above.

The ticking had stopped.

Elian looked up.

The grandfather clock’s face was floating midair, its hands hovering at 2:09, refusing to move.

The lantern flickered violently.

From the mirror directly behind him, a voice — his own — whispered:

“You’ve opened the door. But it breathes now because you fed it.”

He spun around.

The mirror cracked.

A hand — his hand — reached out of the broken glass, grasping at his shoulder with unmatched force. Its skin was pale, decayed, fingertips burning cold.

Elian screamed, stumbling back into the center of the room.

Every mirror erupted with fractured versions of him, all yelling, whispering, screaming… laughing.

The room rumbled. The floor beneath his feet warped, softening like wet clay.

Then —

The candles went out.

And in total darkness, a voice said:

“Welcome to Night Two, Elian.”

To Be Continue...