Luminous: The Throne

“Where am I?! ” The voice burst from Luna’s—no, Alessia’s—throat before she even realized she had spoken. She jerked upright, her hands flying to her chest, expecting the cold tile, the sting of glass, and the ache of bruises. Instead… warmth. Softness. A bed. Her fingers dug into thick sheets embroidered with gold threads, smoother than anything she had ever touched in her life. Her breath came fast as she stared wide-eyed at her surroundings. This wasn’t a hospital. This wasn’t school. This wasn’t Earth. The ceiling above her was high and domed, painted with swirling constellations that glowed faintly like the sky itself lived inside the room. Curtains of deep blue silk draped from carved pillars. Gold lanterns flickered with gentle, steady flames that didn’t smoke or burn too bright. They shimmered like captured stars inside glass. Her heart thudded painfully. “W-What is this…? ” she whispered to herself.Every part of her felt wrong—too light, too warm, too alive.She touched

“Don’t look at her. If she sees you staring, we’ll be blamed.” The whisper floated to Alessia the moment she stepped into the outer hall. She froze. It had been only a short while since the Emperor left her room, but Seraphine had returned with a set of pale blue robes and gentle, firm hands that guided her out of bed. Her legs still felt weak, but she refused to stay lying down. If she stayed in that room, the fear would swallow her. Now she stood just outside her chamber, hands clenched at her sides, heart pounding as she faced the corridor. Guards lined the walls, their armor polished, their spears upright. Their eyes flicked to her, then away. Some tightened their grip on their weapons. Some shifted their weight. No one smiled. Servants moved past, carrying trays, linens, and stacks of scrolls. The instant they noticed her, they stiffened. The whispers started like a low buzz. “That’s her…” “She’s really alive…” “Didn’t they say she was—” “Hush! Do you want to die?” Alessia

“I don’t know who to trust.” The confession slipped out before Alessia could stop herself. She stood beside a wide balcony overlooking the palace gardens, her hands gripping the railing as she stared at the sprawling view below. Sunlight caught on the silver leaves of the Lunar Trees—rare plants that shimmered like frost even in daylight. Behind her, Seraphine frowned. “Princess…?” Alessia turned her head slightly, meeting Seraphine’s golden eyes. At sixteen, Alessia looked fragile—too pale, too thin from the “recovery” she supposedly endured. But inside, Luna’s memories sharpened her fear into something warmer, fiercer. Not weakness. Not this time. “I mean it,” Alessia said softly. “Every face I see looks at me like they want something. Or like they want me gone.” Seraphine stepped closer. At twenty-five, she carried herself with a calm grace, her posture steady even when tension pressed against the palace walls. “That is the nature of the palace,” she replied gently. “Trust is

“Your Majesty, she is a threat.” Lady Lovette’s voice rang through the small council chamber, thin but sharp. Emperor Priam Endymion, forty-two years old, did not react at once. He sat at the head of the long table, fingers steepled, his cold gaze fixed on the woman who had just spoken. To his right, Empress Ariadne, in her late thirties, watched with calm, measuring eyes. To his left sat High Chancellor Varian Hale, fifty-two, with silver at his temples and a steady, unreadable face. Farther down, leaning back with lazy arrogance, was Lord Cassian Varest, seventeen. Eryx Endymion stood against the wall, arms crossed, silent. Priam finally spoke. “Explain yourself, Lady Lovette.” Lovette sighed. Her usually strict composure wavered. “Your Majesty, I performed the standard core evaluation on Princess Alessia, as ordered. The crystal sphere responded in a way I have never seen before.” Varian’s brows drew together slightly. “In what way?” “First, there was a Lux response

“Ignis burns for those who fear.” Kael’s voice cut through the morning air like a cold blade despite the heat radiating around them. Alessia stood in the center of the old training courtyard, sweat dampening the back of her neck. Dawn had barely broken—the sky still painted in pale pink—but the courtyard already felt scorching. A huge circular rune etched into the ground glowed faintly red beneath her feet. Seraphine stood near the archway, arms crossed tensely. She had insisted on watching today’s training, claiming she “didn’t trust Kael with fire.” Alessia didn’t trust herself with fire. Ignis is fire. Luminous control. It felt dangerous enough hearing it. It felt even more dangerous seeing it. A blast of heat burst upward from the rune. Alessia flinched and shielded her face. “Don’t shield,” Kael said sharply. “Ignis reacts to cowardice.” “I’m not cowardly!” Alessia snapped, lowering her arms. “Then prove it.” She glared at him, cheeks burning—not from the heat, but fro