The first time you see one, you wish you hadn't.
Abell was six when he saw his first Malignant.
The creature had crawled from the darkness between the trees, its body wrong in every conceivable way. Dark red eyes stared at him with hollow hunger, but what made him freeze wasn't the eyes, it was the bright magenta orb pulsing in its chest like a diseased heartbeat. The thing moved with deliberate slowness across the forest floor, dragging malformed limbs and leaving smears of something dark behind.
Every pulse from that orb fed something darker within it.
Too small to run, too scared to scream, he'd simply frozen.
Genevieve found him there, paralyzed with fear as the creature closed the distance. Without a word, she'd burst through the bush, her neatly kept blonde hair barely shifting as she stepped between him and death.
Her blade, a sleek falchion radiating golden energy, pulsed as she drew it.
The beast roared, a sound that echoed through his bones and left the forest unnaturally quiet in its wake.
He didn't scream. Couldn't even blink.
The creature lunged, with it's claws outstretched, tearing through roots and earth as it closed the gap.
Genevieve met it head-on. Her sword swept upward in a perfect arc, catching the creature's arm mid-swing. On impact, the blade's light exploded outward, sharp and blinding. The creature shrieked, stumbling sideways as its severed limb hit the ground with a wet thud.
The intensity of sound and light made him flinch, but when he opened his eyes, his sister was already advancing.
The creature reeled back, legs twitching, chest heaving faster as panic set in.
Genevieve's steps were measured, controlled. Her simple tunic clung to her frame as she raised her blade again, light pulsing from the hilt as she drove it straight into the creature's magenta core.
The glow flared violently. The thing squirmed, then went still.
"Is it... Dead?" he asked, voice barely a whisper as he crept closer.
His eyes stayed locked on the motionless form.
"I always promised I'd protect you, didn't I?" She knelt beside him, brushing his dark, messy hair with fingers still slick with the creature's blood. "That's what big sisters do."
He trembled, but his eyes wouldn't leave the corpse. Pushing through the fear, he asked, "W-what was that?"
Genevieve glanced back at the fallen creature.
"A malignant."
Now, nine years later, Abell stared at the broken hilt resting in his palm. That sword, like her, was gone.
A gust of wind pulled him back to the present. The farmlands of Iridius stretched before him, golden in the morning sun. His grip tightened on the broken steel.
"Thinking about her again?"
He turned to find his mother, Keeko, standing behind him with arms crossed. Her graying hair fluttered in the breeze, and her weathered face held the same sharp intelligence that had made her a legendary Luminary.
"No," he said. "It's nothing."
"Hmm." She studied him with the look that said she saw right through his lie. "Are you ready?"
He gave the sword one final squeeze, feeling the familiar weight of loss and determination. "Always."
They walked to the backyard together, past the cottage's stone walls and into a field of open grass bordered by old oak trees. It was a lovely, warm morning in Iridius, the kind of day that made you forget Malignants existed at all.
Keeko glanced at him with an unusually bright expression, something almost playful in her weathered features.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Today, I'll only be counterattacking," she said with a smirk that reminded him why younger Luminaries used to fear her. "Go get your wooden sword."
"I can't use my Lux?"
"Nope." Her tone turned serious, the playfulness evaporating. "I want to see what you can do without it. Real combat isn't always about power."
Walking to the side of the cottage, he grabbed a worn wooden practice sword from the rack. The weight felt wrong in his hands after holding Genevieve's broken blade, but he'd learned to adapt. "What's with her today?" he muttered.
Rolling up his sleeves, he pushed his unruly hair out of his face and tested the sword's balance. "Alright, I'm set. Today's the day I finally land a hit. I can feel it."
Keeko let out a small chuckle, rolling her shoulders as she loosened up. Despite her age and the limp from an old injury, she moved with the fluid grace of someone who'd spent decades in combat.
"Confident, are we?" She took her stance with one foot planted firmly, both hands raised at her sides, waiting. "Come on, then. Show me what you've learned."
He charged with calculated aggression, swinging his sword in a diagonal arc toward her midsection. It was a good strike, controlled but forceful.
Keeko blocked the swing with her right hand, the impact barely registering on her face, and drove her left palm into his stomach with surgical precision.
"Stop being predictable," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Your sister never attacked the same way twice."
The comparison stung worse than the hit. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the ache and went back on the offensive. This time, he varied his attacks, high, low, feints mixed with real strikes. Nothing connected. She countered every attempt with minimal effort.
"After all these years, I still can't compete with her," he thought, frustration building.
Keeko actually yawned. "You know, at fifteen, Genevieve was already giving me a hard time in these sessions," she said, voice light but distant. "And that was when I was in my prime."
The mention of her name hit like a physical blow. Memories of that night screams in the darkness, blood on stone, the weight of failure flashed before his eyes. His jaw clenched as he charged again, this time with more precision but less control.
He picked up the pace, swinging repeatedly with focused intensity. But she was faster, always one step ahead, anticipating every move like she was reading his mind.
That last swing carried too much emotion, too much force. He overcommitted. Badly.
Keeko shifted her weight, her foot sweeping under his legs with casual efficiency. Before he could react, his legs flew out from under him, and he crashed onto his back. The wooden sword clattered uselessly beside him.
She offered him her hand, but he slapped it away, pride stinging worse than his bruised back.
"Come on, don't be like that," Keeko chuckled, though her eyes held understanding.
"Seriously, how strong can you be? You're already an old woman," he said, rubbing his stomach where her palm had connected.
Her smile faded instantly. She slammed her fist into his chest, not hard enough to injure, but enough to remind him who he was talking to.
"Be respectful, Abell. Age doesn't erase skill."
He nodded apologetically, recognizing the steel beneath her weathered exterior.
After a moment, she gestured toward the village. "Enough training for now. Let's go to the market. You promised if I won, you'd accompany me on errands."
Crossing his arms, he sighed in defeat. "Yeah, whatever. Let's go."
The market buzzed with the controlled chaos of morning commerce. Vendors shouted over one another to hawk their goods, children darted between stalls while their mothers haggled, and the smell of fresh bread mixed with leather, herbs, and the earthy scent of produce.
Walking behind Keeko through the busy marketplace, Abell let his mind wander until nearby voices cut through the ambient noise.
"Malignant attacks are getting worse out east," a woman said, her voice tight with worry. "When will those damned elites finally help us?"
"You know the Alsaints are too busy lining their pockets," another woman scoffed, shaking her head. "Politics and profit, that's all they care about."
"When's the last time you saw a real Luminary stationed here? We're nothing to them."
Her friend sighed heavily. "Do any of the Four Families even remember places like Iridius exist?"
Abell frowned, trying to piece together the conversation. The Four Families, Alsaints, were terms he'd heard whispered but never explained.
Keeko nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Come on, keep up. I finished here already."
As they moved through the crowd, he noticed how the villagers greeted his mother. Not with the casual familiarity shown to other residents, but with genuine appreciation, even reverence. "Thank you for keeping us safe, Keeko." "Bless you and yours." Pride stirred within him. She wasn't just his mother, she was their protector.
Drifting away while Keeko continued shopping, he found himself at the market's center where a towering statue of the Liberator stood. Arms crossed, gaze cast toward the horizon, the figure radiated heroic determination. Larger than life. Uncompromising.
Staring up at it, his fists clenched at his sides. One day... no, I will reach the same heights. I can't stay here forever. I promised her that.
"Face me, Abell!"
The challenge rang out across the market square. He sighed, not even needing to turn to identify the voice.
Misha, the ever-energetic eight-year-old troublemaker, stood atop a vegetable stall, brandishing a wooden sword like a seasoned warrior. His wild brown hair stuck up in all directions, and his eyes shone with the kind of reckless confidence that only children possessed.
"Misha! Get down from there this instant!"
Astrid, his older sister, rushed forward with exasperated efficiency. Her brown hair swayed behind her as she tried to maintain some semblance of control over her chaotic sibling. "Sorry, Abell. He's always like this when you're around."
Misha leaped down with surprising grace, landing in a crouch before popping up with a grin. "Fight me! Show me your Lux!" He pointed his wooden sword dramatically. "I want to see the golden blade everyone talks about!"
Abell barely spared the kid a glance. "Not now, Misha. I'm not in the mood."
But Misha was nothing if not persistent. With a battle cry that was equal parts adorable and annoying, he charged.
Sidestepping with minimal effort, Abell flicked the boy's nose mid-swing. Misha yelped, tumbling backward in a tangle of limbs and wounded pride.
"No fair!" Misha whined, rubbing his face. "You're supposed to use your Lux, not just dodge! Fight me properly!"
"It's not a toy," Abell replied, his tone sharper than intended. "Besides, you're not worth the effort."
The words came out harsher than he'd meant, but the damage was done. Laughter rippled through the small crowd of onlookers, but it wasn't the good-natured kind. A few people frowned, murmuring among themselves.
"Always so arrogant, that one," someone whispered.
"Just like yesterday with those Malignants. Acts like he's better than everyone else."
"Poor Keeko, having to deal with that attitude."
Great. Now they think I'm some arrogant brat. But what am I supposed to do, pretend to struggle against an eight-year-old?
Astrid quickly grabbed Misha's arm, shooting Abell an apologetic look. "Let's go find Mom before you cause more trouble," she said, then gestured for Abell to follow them away from the growing whispers.
Exhaling sharply, he adjusted his tunic and followed, grateful for the escape route. The murmurs didn't fade as they walked, and he caught more than a few disapproving glances. Maybe I should have just played along.
The trio found Keeko at a leather goods booth, but she wasn't alone. A towering man stood beside her, his presence commanding despite his casual demeanor. His clothes were well-tailored but practical, a thin scar curved under his left eye, and when he turned, Abell's breath caught.
The man's pupils weren't normal. They shimmered like tiny constellations, star-shaped and constantly shifting.
"Keeko!" the man greeted with genuine warmth. "Still as youthful as ever!"
Keeko's reaction was immediate and violent. She swung at him without warning.
The man tilted his head back just enough to let her fist whistle past his nose, the motion smooth and effortless, like he'd been expecting it.
"Why are you here, Hugo?" she growled, her scowl deepening.
Hugo. Abell had never heard the name before, but something about the man's presence set his nerves on edge.
"How did you even find me?" Keeko continued, her voice tight with old frustration.
Hugo chuckled, completely unfazed by her hostility. "You thought we wouldn't eventually track down one of the most skilled Luminaries of the last generation? This is one of the safest regions in western Eudora. Someone with real power had to be maintaining that."
His gaze shifted to Abell, those star-shaped pupils seeming to see right through him. "So this is what you've been hiding out here."
Before Keeko could respond, a scream cut through the market chatter like a blade.
"HELP! PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP!"
The market froze for a heartbeat, every conversation stopping mid-sentence. Then chaos erupted as villagers scattered in every direction, knocking over stalls and trampling goods in their desperate flight.
Abell's breath quickened, his hand instinctively moving toward where his sword would normally rest. "Is it them?"
A Strong howl answered his question.
Emerging from the market's eastern edge came the stuff of nightmares. Three wolf-like Malignants stalked into the square, their forms grotesque parodies of natural predators. Hollow red eyes burned with mindless hunger, and the magenta orbs in their chests pulsed with malevolent energy, making the air feel heavy and wrong.
"Astrid," Abell said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. "Take Misha and run. Head for the town center."
Her eyes widened, but she nodded with the quick understanding of someone who'd lived with this threat all her life. She grabbed her brother's hand and pulled him away, Misha's protests fading as survival instinct finally kicked in.
As the market emptied around them, the weight of the Malignants' presence grew oppressive. The creatures moved with predatory patience, savoring the fear that hung in the air like smoke.
Abell felt a tap on his shoulder. Keeko met his eyes and gave a single, sharp nod.
That was all the permission he needed.
Opening his hand, golden sparks flickered between his fingers until they twisted into a cluster of pure light. The energy built, condensed, and with a sudden flash that lit up the entire square, settled into the form of a straight sword.
The weapon pulsed in his grip, weightless but undeniably lethal. The blade's radiance cast dancing shadows across the abandoned stalls.
"Finally," he said.
"I was starting to get bored."
Hugo, still standing beside Keeko despite the chaos, whistled low in appreciation. "Now that's interesting," he murmured, studying the luminous blade with undisguised fascination.
Abell moved forward without hesitation, without fear. The broken hilt of his sister's sword pressed against his back, a reminder of what he'd lost and what he still had to prove.
Just like Genevieve had done for him all those years ago, he stepped between the monsters and the innocent.
Some promises were worth keeping, no matter the cost.