Luna’s Rebellion
Not Kael, not the man who begged the stars for mercy.
Something else.
Something older.
Armor of living shadow plates itself over my skin, pulsing with veins of starlight black as pitch.
My eyes burn—not with flame, but with the endless night between worlds.
And in my hand, called from nothing, sleeps the blade I thought I’d drowned in blood and chains:
Noctis.
The world-breaker.
The end-song of kings.
I lift it, and the void hums like a beast that’s tasted blood.
Above, somewhere far beyond this prison of dark, the stars tremble.
Bab Populer