They say every life begins with light. Warmth. A cry. A lullaby, if you're lucky.
Mine began with arrows.
Screaming. Hooves. And the not-so-gentle bounce of a galloping horse while I—newly reborn, wet, cold, and very fucking confused—was tucked beneath my mother's cloak like a smuggled spirit gem.
Yes, hi. I was literally born during a kidnapping.
Well—technically—my mother was fleeing after giving birth in a forest shrine in the middle of nowhere. I don't know the full details. It's not like I took notes from inside the womb. But I remember the fear. Her shaking hands. The crushing pressure in the air.
And the godsdamned cold.
I may have been a newborn, but in my head? I was twenty-eight. Overworked. Underslept. A corporate burnout with trust issues and a growing suspicion that reincarnation was not as glamorous as manhwa made it look.
Gaaaah.
My mother whispered between ragged breaths.
"You are my light, Lysara… my little moon."
She said it like a prayer. Like a goodbye.
I wanted to answer her. To say something meaningful. But I hadn't figured out how to blink yet, let alone speak. So I did the only thing I could—I cried.
Not because I was a baby.
But because I knew she wasn't going to make it.
And I was right.
Then came the silence. And the cold.
Not a breeze. Not a chill. I'm talking Northern-blizzard, swaddled-in-rags, abandoned-in-the-woods kind of cold. She placed me in a clearing surrounded by ancient trees—massive, watchful, and whispering.
Then… she ran.
I wanted to scream. To fight. But all I could do was lie there, blinking up at the sky as snowflakes kissed my cheeks and dread settled like lead in my tiny chest.
Thunk.
An arrow struck nearby. The ground shook.
Then something changed.
The trees stirred—not from wind, but from will. The moonlight thickened, poured over me like oil. Holy. Heavy.
And then came the voices.
Not human.
"This child is marked.""Luceria's blood.""Guard her."
I blacked out after that. Probably for the best. I was one divine whisper away from an existential crisis.
When I woke again, I was surrounded by silk pillows, potion-scented air, and a man so unreasonably beautiful I thought I'd died twice. Platinum hair. Golden eyes. Spirit aura like a walking weather system.
That was my father.
King Cassel Aetherion.
So yeah. That's how my new life started.
Born in scandal. Hidden by spirits. Blessed by moonlight.
No pressure.
Fast forward fourteen years?
I'm selling fruit. In a cozy shop. Pretending none of that ever happened.
What could possibly go wrong?
No, really—this shit only gets weirder from here.