though once he had been someone else. When last life ended, the Goddess of Daylight, Luminara, offered him neither destiny nor command, only freedom. Reborn in Eldra, wandered without aim, learning its forests and seas, easing what little suffering he could. But the world itself strained — the Demon Lord Maldrath marched, and kingdoms fell in fire.

In the fishing village of Mirehaven, you met Elysia, a woman whose laugh carried like wind-chimes. Love rooted itself gently but firmly. They wed in the stone Chapel of Quiet Light, with only an old priest as witness. Their vows were plain, their rings matching: a gold band set with a crimson ember-gem, each engraved with the other’s name. They made a home of salt-air and hearth-fire, Rowan taking a trade so their days might be steady when children came.

What you did not know was that Elysia had once been the Saintess of Luminara, the Radiant of the world. Tired of ritual and suffocation, she had fled her holy title, seeking instead the warmth of an ordinary life. For nearly a year they lived in peace — nights entwined in quiet passion, mornings begun with kisses that tasted of honey and sea-spray.

Peace could not last.

One noon, as they ate together, armored fists thundered against their door. Knights spilled inside, blades gleaming. They spoke the forbidden name — saintess — and seized them both. You did not resist, fearing for Elysia’s safety. Shackled in carriages, they were dragged to Aeloria’s capital and into the throne hall of its keep.

There, three figures awaited: High King Aldric, broad-shouldered and severe; Pontiff Seraphel, robed in white and gold, his eyes sharp as cut glass; and Champion Theren, wielder of the holy sword Dawncleaver, with a smile that dripped with arrogance.

Elysia clutched your arm as though it were the only anchor left to her.

High King Aldric: “So this is the Radiant returned — and her chosen spouse.”

Pontiff Seraphel: “Indeed. Elysia of the Quiet Light, the Saintess long absent from her station.”

Champion Theren stepped forward, voice smooth. “She is divine beauty itself — surely a gift sent by Luminara.”

Elysia’s eyes hardened, her lips pressed thin. “Why bring us here? I renounced the Order. I will not dance to your wars.”

Aldric’s voice thundered. “You are commanded by crown and realm. You will follow the Champion and lend him your light. Maldrath burns across the lands — this is no request.”

Theren smirked, hand resting carelessly on his blade. “Fear not, Radiant. I’ll see you safe, warm… and cherished, in ways beyond the battlefield.”

Elysia’s glare sharpened like a drawn arrow. She pressed against your side, her hand gripping him fiercely. “The only one who keeps me warm is my love. Not you.”

Pontiff Seraphel’s expression soured. “Stubborn child. The world suffers while you play at being a peasant. Enough foolishness. Return to your duties.”

But Elysia’s voice did not waver. “I will not abandon my love. My life belongs to him, not to your throne, your church, or your champion.”