Be the Light, Be The Love

Days turned into nights as I cleaned, fed, and sometimes even played happily with the magnificent creatures of the stables. Ten days had already passed since the first time I came.

While I eagerly awaited Guisee's return, I was slowly finding my place within the vast mansion, realizing that even the most unexpected roles could lead to new adventures.

The whispers and rumors among the unassuming workers.

Duke Lightweaver's third wife and her daughter, Mille and Josephine, were, how can I put it, the epitome of privilege and arrogance. Always dressed in the finest silks and adorned with the most extravagant jewels, they paraded around the mansion as if they owned the world. In a way, they did, for in the social hierarchy of Eldoria, they stood atop, looking down upon everyone else.

The stark difference in treatment between Josephine and Aine, the daughter of the Duke's second wife, was palpable. While Josephine was showered with attention and luxuries, the second daughter was often relegated to the shadows, her presence barely acknowledged.

Josephine's parties were grand affairs, drawing in the young elite of Eldoria. The mansion's grand ballroom would be awash in color, laughter, and the sounds of music and revelry. Despite the ongoing war, they seemed unaffected, living in their bubble of indulgence.

Mille slept with people from Duke Aslan when her husband went to the war. She even threw a party when the Duke Lightweaver's only son from his second wife died in Radiant Vale when the vampire attack them.

One day, while I was tending to the magical beasts, Josephine strutted into the stables with her latest suitor, a haughty young duke known for his cruelty to the workers. Spotting me, he sneered, "Look at the stable boy, covered in filth. Fit for his job, I'd say."

Eager to impress Josephine, he swaggered over, and with a swift kick, sent me sprawling into a pile of fresh beast dung. The pair erupted into peals of laughter, their voices echoing mockingly. To them, I was nothing more than entertainment, a brief distraction from their hedonistic lives.

The griffin, the water horse, and some magical creatures suddenly turned berserk, making angry sounds. Josephine took out a medallion and channeled her energy into it, commanding, "Shut up!"

Suddenly, the collars of each magical creature glowed brightly, forcing the animals to the ground. "I will kill all of you if you don't stop."

Rising, I tried to maintain my dignity, wiping off the muck as the two chose a creature to ride. They settled on the majestic griffin. As they ascended into the skies, laughing and carefree, I could hear Josephine proclaim, "When we inherit everything, we'll have even grander parties! The entire continent will envy us!"

I couldn't help but feel a burning anger, not for the humiliation I'd suffered, but for the blatant disregard they showed to the world around them. The war was tearing the continent apart, and the apocalypse seemed so near, yet here they were, living in blissful ignorance.

A dangerous fire burns within me, one that, when stoked, could very well lead me to end someone's life. Yet, looking at the two of them, they seemed no more than petulant toddlers throwing tantrums.

The young Duke only has level 15, and I can kill him anytime.

Rolling my eyes, I suppressed a sigh. The pettiness before me felt like scenes straight from a child's playroom, and I grew weary of such trivial games. I laughed and smiled at the magical creatures, thanking them for their defense, even though they were oppressed.

This place, with its gilded walls and peculiar inhabitants, felt alien to me. Every step, every glance served as a stark reminder that I didn't belong. It was merely a temporary detour, a fleeting chapter in my own story. If I harbored any ill will towards them, it would be better to act only after my tasks were complete. Anyway anger would not yield anything good for my future.

Drawing my thoughts inward, I resisted the urge to form attachments at this place even it is for anger. At the evening, as I scrubbed stubborn stains from my clothes, I reflected on the passing days.

"Jaime," a voice echoed in the dimly lit corridor. Turning, I was met by a guard, his armor gleaming under the torchlight, the metal plates reflecting the dancing flames. "The head butler, Guisee, requests your presence. Ensure you're presentable. Bathe."

Guided by the guard, we navigated the mansion's labyrinthine passages. As we entered through the kitchen's rear door, the aroma of roasted meats and simmering stews wafted through the air. Following the scent trail, we finally arrived at the head butler's chambers.

Before me stood a man, the embodiment of age's grace. Guisee's slender figure was deceptive, for it bore the weight of countless tales and secrets. Silver wisps of hair framed his age-worn face, with eyes that shimmered like tranquil azure lakes, echoing kindness. His face, a canvas of time, bore laugh lines and wrinkles that seemed to narrate stories of joy and sorrow alike. Every inch of him, from his crisply ironed suit to the gleam of his leather shoes, radiated dignity.

His gaze, warm yet discerning, reminded me of an affectionate elder. A Person who can kill you with their kindness.

Clearing my throat, I spoke, "I bring an item from Duke Lightweaver." Carefully, I extended a shimmering memory crystal, its facets catching the candlelight, and a regal gold insignia.

Guisee's eyebrows arched slightly at the sight. With a measured grace, he reached out, fingers encircling the crystal. As its luminescence grew brighter, he momentarily shut his eyes, embracing its power. After what felt like an eternity, his eyes opened, the light of recognition dancing within.

"The insignia," he murmured, extending his hand. "May I also have a drop of your blood for verification purposes?"

"Yes," I affirmed, voice unwavering. As Guisee gestured towards me, I felt a tingling sensation in my palm. Blood began to seep out, drawn by an unseen force, and it pooled onto the insignia. Almost immediately, the insignia gleamed radiantly, and the symbol of the Lightweavers materialized.

Guisee's blue eyes grew wide as they fixated on the symbol. His expression transformed from one of anticipation to deep satisfaction. A hearty laugh escaped his lips, echoing in the vastness of the room.

Striding to an ornate wooden table, he deftly opened a drawer, retrieving a luminescent crystal. As he clasped it, the crystal pulsed, casting a glow that mirrored the starlit night. Whispering into it, his words resonated with authority, "The time has come. By our master Duke's decree, act without hesitation. Show no mercy to those who defy."

Almost instantly, chilling screams pierced the thick walls. They multiplied, forming a dissonant chorus of panic and despair. Footfalls, muffled cries, and the clashing of metal filled the air. As abruptly as it began, silence reclaimed the halls.

"Duke Lightweaver suggested you wear a mask. Might I see the face beneath?" Guisee queried, curiosity evident in his voice.

With a deep breath, I slowly removed the mask. Guisee's sharp intake of breath was audible. "By the light... you rival even the Duke in appearance," he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. "It's as if the fates wove it this way."

He extended an arm in a grand gesture. "Shall we? The grand ballroom awaits, and its occupants are most eager for our arrival."

As we traversed the intricately decorated corridors, evidence of the upheaval was undeniable. The grand ballroom's double doors revealed a scene of grim transformation. The once-celebrated haven of wealth now resembled a chamber of judgment. Approximately fifty individuals stood restrained, their wrists bound by gleaming chains. Among the sea of anxious faces, I recognized the haughty visages of Mille, Josephine, the chief maid, and several guards.

Mille's voice, dripping with venom, pierced the thick tension, "Guisee, you treacherous hound! How dare you command the guards against us? When the Duke returns, your life will be forfeit!"

Guisee's reply was chilling in its calmness, "The Duke has met his end on the battlefield."

Mille's face registered disbelief, then her posture straightened as a loud, almost manic laughter escaped her lips. "So, the old hound is finally gone!" She declared triumphantly. "Know this, Guisee, and all present, the realm of Duke Lightweaver should have been mine. Lower your weapons."

Guisee's voice held a cold edge, "The Duke's final wishes were clear: you are to face justice. You and Duke Aslan conspired, leading to Young Master Anthony's death in Radiant Vale. You even sent guards to kill Duke Lightweaver. Your sins are too numerous to count, Mille."

Despite Guisee's accusations, Mille's laughter persisted, her voice dripping with arrogance. "Duke Aslan and his legions are on their way to here. All of you will perish."

Guisee retorted, his voice steely, "Our envoys are already en route to Duke Aslan and the king, carrying evidence of your treachery. The king will soon be made aware, and he won't come to your aid."

"I am the Duke's sole heir! All his possessions, his title, his realm — they are now mine." Mille declared, her eyes gleaming with avarice.

Guisee chuckled, his laughter echoing the chamber's grandeur. "Your audacity knows no bounds, Mille." He glanced my way, "Young master, please display the insignia."

With a sense of purpose, I extracted the insignia, allowing its intricate design to catch the light, presenting it for all to witness.

Mille's face contorted with shock, "This can't be!"

With a knowing smile, Guisee directed, "Young master, please activate it. Recite any phrase it imparts to you."

Following his instructions, I firmly voiced, "Activate." Almost immediately, words manifested in my mind, and I voiced them with clarity, "For I am created by light and love, I am the light, I am the love, I am what the True Source wants me to be. In my demise, my essence shall transmute into light, into undying love. As a Lightweaver, by the decree of the True Source, may all be bathed in light and enveloped in love.

May everyone becomes the light, becomes the love."

The ballroom atmosphere shifted the moment I finished speaking. The room was steeped in an almost tangible silence before an ethereal light, pure and brilliant, cascaded from above. The ceiling seemingly dissolved, giving way to a celestial panorama, wherein streaks of radiant luminance descended directly onto Guisee, the guard, and all other Lightweaver disciples in attendance.

To the naked eye, it was a marvel; tendrils of light embraced them, illuminating their very beings. It was as if the cosmos itself acknowledged their loyalty and faith.

Even in the presence of such a magnificent spectacle, the bound conspirators, including Mille and Josephine, could only gape in shock and awe. Their faces, untouched by the heavenly illumination, contorted with a mix of envy, disbelief, and fear.

After a few minutes, which felt like an eternity, the lights receded, and the ballroom's grandeur returned. However, the people it housed were transformed. Guisee, with a luminescent aura still surrounding him, stepped forward, his voice echoing with newfound authority, "This is the True Light. The universe's acknowledgment of our unwavering faith."

Mille, attempting to mask her trepidation with defiance, sneered, "A parlor trick. Nothing more."

Guisee simply smiled. "Believe what you will. But know this: our light is unwavering and our purpose clear, to be the light, to be the love. The True Light has chosen its faithful, and it will always guide the way. The Lightweaver hasn't finished; this is the beginning of our new history. This young man is our new Duke!"