Chapter Text
The Alpha crowned in blazing gold
whose blood holds Sol’Athar’s fire
shall find no peace, nor steady breath,
until he stands beside the Dawn.
Should the Sun touch the Shadow
through the heart of the Dawn,
a bond beyond gods’ intention
shall blaze into being.
And the Empire will tremble.
𖤓
The sands of Goldfleece Dunes shimmer brighter than usual today.
It must be because it’s high noon—Sol’hara’s sun blazing against a sky of endless blue and cotton-white clouds. The contrast has always fascinated Shouyou. Against better judgment, and against the scolding of his teachers and elders, he often finds himself staring directly into the sun.
The gods do not wish to be disturbed, they would say. Lest you be blinded by their true form.
He has not been rendered blind. Yet.
Shouyou respects the gods and their privacy, but curiosity always wins in the end. Sometimes he catches himself with his face tilted skyward, as though answering a call he doesn’t remember hearing.
It’s foolish. Someday, it might cost him his sight.
But perhaps the gods appreciate being seen—noticed, rather than endlessly, blindly sought through prayer and ritual. Perhaps they want to be regarded, if only for a moment.
Past the glare and blistering heat, sometimes Shouyou swears he sees a smiling face looking back at him.
As he said—foolish.
He blinks, breaking the spell, and lets his vision clear. He scans the expanse of Goldfleece Dunes, his vantage point high enough to appreciate the blinding scene and motion of Sunrise Plains. From a distance, he can see the Dawn Plaza, bustling with activity, air saturated with all kinds of smells, from sunburst cakes to aura-heightening oils. At the center of the market stands the Sunwell Fountain, its water believed to be infused with Dawnsera’s tears of joy. Younglings often play around it; pregnant Omegas and exhausted travelers linger nearby to revitalize their aura and energy.
Not far is the sunlit gardens of Dawnspire Terraces, training grounds for young pups, couriers, and aura-sensitive children, always alive with laughter and motion. It’s been a couple of years since Shouyou finished his training and received blessings to become a Sky-runner, but he misses his youthful days there and often visits the Terraces for a quick hello to his teachers—the Lightwardens—and to play with the children. Maybe he can drop by later this afternoon, after he buys star lollies to share.
He lets his line of sight drift further, until he can make out the glistening arcs of Luminara Rise, sitting on top of the highest terrace of the Plains. The royal manor unfolds like a gilded lotus, its seven tiers of pale gold stone cascading outward, each level adorned with delicate spires that pierce the cloudless sky. It's hard to miss—every crystal lantern of the majestic structure is lit, even in broad daylight, thousands of them strung along balustrades and archways, making the layered arcs glow like a second sun sitting on the horizon, its light rippling across the dunes like liquid gold.
Squinting, Shouyou notices a large banner draped prominently on the main balustrade—a radiant sun disk with elongated rays, crowned by a black obsidian circle at its core. A thin ring of gold glyphs encircles the sun.
The Solar Crown. The royal sigil.
Oh. The Trials of the Sun must be starting soon—or perhaps has already begun while he's been running messages across the dunes, oblivious to the machinations of royalty.
He tries to imagine himself in such a position—scrutinized by the entire empire of Sol’Hara, standing before the Crown Prince and being evaluated as a potential mate.
A future Empress.
What would it be like, he wonders fleetingly, to have your entire life changed by such a ceremony? To walk into those gleaming halls as one person and emerge as another, no longer just yourself but a vessel for an entire kingdom's hopes? The thought makes his chest tighten uncomfortably. He much prefers the open sky, the simple joy of running, where the only expectations to meet are his own.
“Sounds scary,” he whispers to himself.
He adjusts his robes and fixes his sandals before he begins to run, quickly gaining speed as he dashes downhill across the sand. He gathers his aura with a deep breath, warmth humming beneath his skin. Light answers him immediately, glittering at the edges of the air as he breaks into full speed.
His sandals barely touch the sand.
Sky-running feels best at noon, with the sun overhead—watching. The thought makes him giddy, reckless.
“Careful there, Hinata!” Tanaka yells from a distance, waving his hand at Shouyou.
He waves back, then looks around. Aside from Tanaka, he could see his fellow Skyrunners going about their duties, and a handful of stalls dotted amongst the dunes that offer refreshments for couriers and runners like him. But the field of sand and slopes around him gives him more than enough space to do what he plans to do.
He pulls on his aura, the way the Lightwardens had taught them to achieve light-bending—firm, yet delicate, a gentle coaxing of the light, and wait for it to allow you to gain control. He can feel the light give in, molding to his will as the air around him distorts like a mirage as he runs faster.
Then he reaches deeper, until he can visualize each individual strand of light like glowing pieces of thread interlocked over the other.
‘Allow me,’ he asks.
The light responds almost instantaneously. Then he pulls.
Shouyou can feel the weight strip off him as he bounds off the crest of a dune. He laughs, the breeze carrying his gleeful sound across the desert.
He leaves a trail of light in every surface his feet touch—the sand, the air, the sky. Sunstep, what the Lightwardens call this unusual ability of his, a technique so rare only a handful has been recorded to be able to wield, even fewer of those that have mastered it. Shouyou chalks it up to pure, simple luck.
Absolute exhilaration courses through him as he leaps between sandstone spires, laughing as gravity loosens its grip on him. The air thickens beneath his feet, turning solid just long enough to carry him forward.
He can feel his insides burn. Not painfully, but comforting, as if the sun itself is within him.
Just…there. Alive.
Reaching. Calling to him.
He laughs again—louder, echoing.
Then a voice—deep, commanding, but also…sad.
Find me.
He lands wrong. Sand tears at his palms as he skids down the slope, breath knocked loose. Shouyou presses his hands to his burning chest.
He can hear the shouts of his name, the thuds of camel hoofs coming closer, but he barely registers them as the light spilled out—soft at first, then brighter, a pulse rolling across Goldfleece Dunes.
The deep voice is speaking again—desperate, melancholic—but it gets drowned out by the loud ringing pounding in his head.
The last thing he sees is Tanaka running at him, face painted in panic, before everything turns black.
𖤓
Shouyou awakes in a bed that is not his.
The bed is wider than anything he’s ever slept in, low to the floor, layered with cushions and pillows he’s almost swallowed by them. The sheer suncloth sheet blanketing him brushes his skin like a gentle breeze. The air smells warm and clean, faintly floral, like stone that remembers sunlight.
Cautiously, he sits up. His bare feet touch the stone, and it’s warm. Welcoming. It takes a few more moments for him to realize that he’s stripped of his courier attire and is now dressed in a soft, sunlinen white tunic with golden woven threads that shimmer when he moves. The material is almost sheer, barely enough to keep his modesty and to hide the numerous cuts and bruises all over his arms and legs from trying out new tricks while sky-running.
He scans the chamber for his own clothes, but finds only gossamer fabrics draped across ornate furniture. He picks up what looks like a shawl from a nearby chair—it slips through his fingers like water, nearly transparent in the morning light. Across the room, silken curtains billow at the windows, so fine they seem to dissolve where sunbeams touch them. Nothing substantial enough to preserve his modesty.
The walls of the chamber glow softly, pale gold washing across curved stone walls as the first edge of sunrise slips through the open eastern windows.
How long was he asleep?
Before he can process an answer, a loud knock startles him.
“Uhm, come in?”
Shouyou heaves out a sigh when Tanaka enters. He’s in his usual courier uniform of high-collared fitted tunic in terracotta and deep browns, satchel strung across his torso. The familiarity grants Shouyou even more relief.
The Alpha courier regards him with a nod and a smile. “You slept well, kiddo?” he says, relief softening his grin. “I was starting to think you’d decided to hibernate.”
“How long was I out?” Shouyou asks. “And… why does this place feel expensive?”
Tanaka huffs a quiet laugh. “About a day. And because it is. You’re in Luminara Rise.”
Shouyou stiffens. “Why am I—”
“Easy,” Tanaka cuts in gently. “You’re not in trouble. I’m just here to walk you to people who like to talk too much.”
The comforting walls of the chamber suddenly feel like they're closing in on him, making it harder to breathe. He remembers in great clarity of what happened back in the dunes.
His aura detonating, couriers and runners knocked on their knees, that incinerating glow imploding from within him that should feel terrifying…but wasn’t.
The voice.
“Am I in trouble?” he whispers, hating the way his voice trembles.
Tanaka waves off a hand. “Nah. You know how those geezers are, they’re just being dramatic.” He offers his arm to Hinata. “But they’re also impatient geezers, and they’d be livid at me if I don’t take you to them within the next five minutes, so…”
With another encouraging, wide smile from his Alpha friend, Shouyou reluctantly takes the extended arm.
Tanaka leads him through a gently sloping corridor. Light wells along the floor illuminate each step without casting shadows. They walk in silence, which is another odd thing on top of all the other odd things Shouyou has roped himself into. It’s never quiet when he’s with Tanaka. The Alpha is loud, rambunctious, and pairing that with Shouyou’s own excitement, there’s almost no room for silence when it’s the two of them.
It makes the pounding within Shouyou’s chest grow even louder.
“Is it about what happened in the dunes?” he blurts out, shattering the eerie silence. “I swear I didn’t know—”
“Hinata, you’re not in trouble,” Tanaka cuts in. Then he shrugs. “Well, at least not in the way you think it is.”
“So I am in trouble!”
The Alpha chuckles. “Hinata, no.” He stops and turns Shouyou towards him by the shoulders. He gives him a firm, reassuring pat. “Let the Council explain, okay? I’ll be right here.”
Tanaka gives him one last nod before Shouyou is ushered by guards through the large, ornate doors. They close behind Shouyou with a sound too soft to be reassuring.
The Hall of Convergence is a vast, circular chamber without a single straight wall in sight. Sunlight pours through the domed crystal lattice ceiling in soft bands, reflecting mesmerizing patterns on the polished stone floor, with a radiant spiral pattern that converges at the center.
There are no raised thrones, only gently tiered semicircular benches. Behind them, the Dawnspire sigil—a half-sun cresting a horizon, with three radiant beams breaking upward—is embedded on a flowy golden fabric, strung like a waterfall of sunlight behind the council seats.
The Elders are seated on the benches, their robes varying in hue and texture, but the glyphs embroidered along their hems glow faintly in unison. Every member of the Light Council is present, even Shimizu Kiyoko, Dawnspire’s Court Representative, seated at the center—regal, radiant, and other-worldly beautiful. Her aura radiates in the most refined form, calm and clarifying, that light bends subtly around her silhouette, not in brilliance, but in focus.
Shouyou has heard how impressive an Omega she is—the Voice of First Light, they all call her—but no words could have perfectly described how immaculate the Councilwoman truly is.
“Hinata Shouyou.”
Her voice is as delicate as she is, yet it carries that sharpness that demands respect and obedience. Shouyou drops down to kneel, head low.
“Please,” she says. “Rise. I would rather see your face.”
He hesitates, then rises. The moment their gazes meet, her aura reaches him—cool, steady, anchoring. His hands, trembling moments ago, still.
For a long breath, no one speaks.
Shimizu studies him—not with judgment, but with careful attention, as though listening to something beneath his skin.
Finally, Shouyou breaks.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I don’t know what happened in the dunes. I didn’t mean to cause—whatever that was.”
“What do you believe you did?” she asks.
The question is simple. It unnerves him more than accusation would have.
“Something happened…in the dunes…” Shouyou tries to explain, but it’s proving to be difficult when he can’t wrap his own mind around it. “I…really don’t know what and how it happened. But I swear I didn’t mean it!”
An Elder to Shimizu’s right lifts a hand, palm outward. Not dismissive. Calming.
“We know you did not act with intent.”
Another voice follows, lower, edged with something wary. “And yet, something answered you.”
“What?”
Shouyou winces; he didn’t mean to sound impatient. Especially not when talking to the Elders and the Court Representative.
Shimizu inclines her head. “Tell me, Hinata Shouyou. Do you know what it means to be Called?”
“It’s for the Trials, and the brides…” Shouyou trails off. The thunderous beating of his heart returns tenfold, his hands beginning to tremble at the implication. “Oh. You don’t mean…?
“Yes.”
It’s almost laughable how a single, simple word can deliver a ripple of shock waves through Shouyou’s entire being. This must be some sort of joke. It must be.
He tries to play into logic, even though his brain is starting to fray into a hundred different things. “But I can’t be the only one, right?” he asks.
“No.” An Elder on the farthest left answers. “Multiple Omegas reacted to the Call. But you’re the only one who laughed.”
A murmur of agreement waves through the entire Council.
“You felt no fear.”
Shouyou frowns. “Should I have?”
His question is answered with silence, making the panic within him surge. He can feel his aura react, flickering like a lamp seeping the final drops of oil. He tries to gather control, to remain steady, but each passing second of nothing but quiet looks exchanged between the Council threatens to break his composure.
Then the eldest among them speaks—her voice worn smooth by decades of sun and prayer. “What you answered was not merely the Call.”
Shouyou’s breath catches. “Then… what was it?”
Shimizu exhales slowly. “Dawnsera.” The name hums in the air, like struck cymbals. “Or what remains of her favor,” she adds.
The floor feels unsteady beneath Shouyou.
“The Dawn Goddess’s blessing has not manifested for generations,” an Elder says quietly. “Not in this way.”
“And yet,” another murmurs, “it recognized you. She recognized you.”
Shouyou shakes his head, words tumbling over one another. “That doesn’t make sense. I’m not— I don’t come from anything special.”
The hall suddenly feels like it’s spinning, the calming warmth emanating from the walls now feels heavy and suffocating.
Blessed by Dawnsera? Why would the Dawn Goddess take any interest in him? He’s not of noble birth—he’s just a simple courier, living modestly alone, with no family he could call his own since his mother perished due to a deadly case of valley fever. He was merely eight years old when she died, and since then, he grew up under the care of the Lightwardens in the Terraces, like most orphaned younglings.
He did advance ranks earlier than his peers when he was training back in the Terraces, but that’s just because he genuinely enjoyed the classes and listened to the Lightwardens. He worked diligently and faithfully, becoming the youngest trainee in history to advance to the rank of Lightbearer.
He didn’t feel blessed. He just felt…happy, in all his years of becoming and as a Sky-runner courier. He loved learning new things with his friends and enjoying their company, and the feeling was certainly reciprocated. His aura, they found, calmed them, and Shouyou is only too happy to help out his friends.
He remembers what a teacher told him when he asked why the other children calmed down when he was with them.
‘Because you remind them of morning,’ she said simply.
He thought nothing of it at that moment, just a child accepting what an adult is telling.
Just as he had accepted that training was almost like play, and that the sun glowing from above him had always felt…friendly.
That it was something common for his aura to resonate whenever dawn breaks, pulsing like a steady, beating heart, as if answering the sun as it greets him for a new day.
Blessed.
The word feels too big for his chest.
“We know this is all too much to ponder,” an Elder says softly, as if appeasing a small animal, “but it is in your best interest that you must know.”
“You are an Omega,” the Eldest says, not unkindly. “With an aura vast enough to quiet others. Vast enough to answer the sun.”
Shouyou swallows through his dry throat, hands clasping together to keep them from shaking.
“You make it sound dangerous,” he says.
Shimizu meets his gaze. There is kindness there, paired with caution. “We do not yet know what it is,” she says. “Only that to deny the Call is to deny Sol’Hara itself.”
The words land softly, but he feels them echo anyway. The heaviness within his chest intensifies, the weight of it threatening to shatter him from the inside out. His hold on his aura begins to falter, quivering, threatening to explode—
A ray of sunlight slips through the open archway then, touching Shouyou’s hair, his shoulders, his hands. For just a moment, the air feels kinder. Like a warm embrace—calming, soothing.
Blessed.
Shouyou exhales. His aura steadies, easing into a soft pulse.
“The Council would still convene,” an Elder says. “We will call for you once we have arrived at a decision.”
“Until then, you will remain here,” the Eldest declares. “The Dawnward Chamber is for you to use, along with the hospitality of Luminara Rise. You are excused from your courier duties in the meantime.”
She gestures at the guards, and they escort Shouyou back to where he came in.
As Shouyou is guided back toward the doors, he glances over his shoulder. Shimizu smiles and tips her head into a bow.
He doesn’t miss the sadness beneath her kind smile.
𖤓
Despite the Council’s advice, Shouyou finds it difficult to rest. He wanders around to ease the pickle of nerves dancing beneath his skin, but the unfamiliarity of elegance and refinement within the pristine halls and rooms of Luminara Rise only agitates him even more.
Tanaka is nowhere to be found, but that doesn’t surprise him. His duties—their duties—as couriers start with the beginning of dawn, racing alongside the light as it scatters through Sunrise Plains and the rest of Sol’Hara.
He tries to go outside, out into the dunes—sky-running has always calmed him. But the guards only give him a firm shake of their heads when he relays his intentions.
“I’m not trying to run away,” he reasons.
“You are to be kept within Luminara Rise as the Council instructed,” comes the stern reply by the guard. “It’s for your own safety.”
Shouyou frowns at that. His safety? From what?
He doesn’t bother asking the guards, huffing as he walks back. He lets himself wander around aimlessly, ignoring the stares and whispers of the acolytes and scholars he passes by. He’s still wearing the ridiculous gauzy tunic, but he figures his outfit is the last thing about him they’d be talking about.
He finds himself in a quiet part of the building. He enters a small, empty balcony, sits over the top rail, and lets his legs dangle.
It’s already late afternoon, the sun is already sinking, its light bleeding into the dunes below—gold turning to copper, copper to red. The desert looks endless from here, a sea he knows how to cross without thinking. By this time, he’s almost done with his work, traversing his usual route from Insula Pass to the outskirts of Sahlien Oasis, where he turns over his messages or parcels to the receiving outpost.
After work, he would stop by the Dawn Plaza to buy dinner or have a few drinks with his friends. He’d go home, happy and full, sleeping in contentment, already looking forward to another fulfilling day.
He doesn’t want to go to the capital. He doesn’t want to be some mate for a spoiled, insufferable Prince and be an Empress. He wants to keep running the skies, laughing, burning without thinking.
“Who knew a pipsqueak like you could capture the Goddess’s fancy?”
Shouyou almost jumped off the balcony at the sudden voice intruding his thoughts. Then he rolls his eyes when Tsukishima sidles up next to him. He’s wearing a floor-length pale yellow robe, tied together with a dark auburn sash—garments befitting a Scholar such as him. With his blonde hair and pale skin, he looks almost too bright to look at, in both complimenting and ridiculing ways.
They were classmates, back in the Terraces, but that’s all they share in common. Tsukishima is an Alpha of noble birth, his father a Scholar, and he knew he’d be following the same path since he was young. Their classes begin to diverge to focus on different disciplines, but they see each other often. He’s one of Shouyou’s closest friends, and he likes to believe he is also Tsukishima’s, although neither has expressed that out loud.
“That sounds fake when you say it like that,” Shouyou huffs.
“Except it isn’t.”
“You confirming it makes it so much worse.” Shouyou kicks his heel lightly against the stone. “Everyone keeps acting like I’m supposed to be honored.”
“And you aren’t.”
It’s not a question. Tsukishima always has that uncanny ability to read Shouyou like an open book. The Alpha scholar says he’s simple like that; Shouyou thinks he’s just honest.
Below them, the last edge of the sun slips behind the dunes.
Tsukishima inspects him through his glasses, that glint of curiosity in his eyes unmistakable.
“So? What are you going to do if the Council send you for the Trials?” he asks.
Shouyou shrugs. “Do I have a choice?”
“You made a reputation for making your own choices.”
“This just feels so…overwhelming,” Shouyou sighs. He flicks a small rock off the limestone rail, watching it roll over the arches. “I mean, being an Empress? I can’t even govern over the desert lilies in my backyard!”
Tsukishima is silent for a while. Shouyou finds it comforting because his being quiet and not immediately launching into a snide remark means he’s considering Shouyou’s plight. Perhaps he, too, is as simple to read as he claims Shouyou to be. Or they just know each other too well for too many years, more than they like to admit.
“You don’t have to win,” the Alpha scholar finally says. “You only have to go.”
Shouyou chuckles. Tsukishima is right, as he always tends to be. Shouyou can just go and participate, if only to appease the Council. The Trials isn’t as deadly as it sounds, despite the name. It is merely a series of tests to judge Divine Compatibility with the Crown Prince, a sign that the gods bless their bond and their future reign.
The Chosen Bride will then be named Crown Consort, a title they will briefly hold before they are crowned Empress once the Heir ascends the throne. The unchosen Brides are compensated generously, both in wealth and power. They are given a seat on their House’s Council, and some exceptionally talented Omegas are even offered positions on the Imperial Sun Court, either inheriting a title or succeeding one as the new Emperor sees fit.
Shouyou isn’t really particular about the promise of wealth or titles, not even the exaltation of being Called for the Trials. But if it means bringing honor to Dawnspire, even if he feels undeserving and wholly unprepared, he supposes he can at least try.
Yet still, a dry lump forms in his throat, his words lost in the cold breeze of dusk as the dunes welcome the blue and black blanket of night.
“That doesn’t make it less terrifying.”
𖤓
Shouyou’s dreams are mostly happy memories.
He dreams of his childhood spent in the Terraces, learning and playing with the other children, recollections of his very first memories—the excitement he felt when he first light-bends, the thrill of his first attempts at sky-running and falling in love with it, the absolute joy in his heart when he learns Sunstep.
But tonight, his dream is different.
It is not a nightmare, nor does he feel fear.
He stands beneath a sky split by fire and shadow, the sun vast and unmoving overhead. The air hums with power, thick enough to taste. The ground beneath his feet is obsidian, warm and unyielding.
He looks far ahead and…
Someone is there.
A figure, tall and broad-shouldered, standing at the center of the scorched plain.
They are made of contradiction.
Light crowns them—golden, radiant, burning like a star caught in human form. But shadows cling just as fiercely, threading through their aura like ink in water, sharpening at the edges.
Sun and night, bound together.
A pull tugs at Shouyou’s chest. Not fear. Not curiosity. Not desire.
Recognition.
A blink, and Shouyou is suddenly face-to-face with the figure. Shadow crowds over their face, but their eyes burn bright, twin flames burning blue. They are haunting and intimidating, demanding to yield to their presence.
Yet they look unbearably tired.
Lonely, the thought comes unbidden. So lonely it makes Shouyou’s chest ache.
The sky flares, light and shadow bleeding together in a blinding halo. It’s a beautiful yet terrifying sight, but Shouyou feels not a single shred of fear in his heart, even as the figure regards him with the burn of those deep blue eyes.
‘Find me,’ the figure says.
The same deep voice he heard back in the dunes.
He reaches out a hand.
And the world fractures into a blinding burst of light.