The Radiant Voice of Ulithara

The funeral pyres burned bright across the high plains of Tol-Prava, their smoke rising to touch the sun-bleached sky. Arillia stood at the edge of the gathering, her blonde hair intricately braided and adorned with glass beads that glimmered in hues of soft blue and silver. Her attire—a flowing azure tunic belted with golden cord and a fitted gray underdress of woven silk-like vellin—shifted gently in the dry wind, catching the warm sunlight and casting faint, shimmering reflections against the rocky terrain.

In her hands, she gripped a long, slender staff of pale ivory wood, its handle inlaid with runes that faintly pulsed with life when the shadows crawled too near. She half-turned, glancing back over her shoulder at the crowd with a faint smile, though her eyes carried the weary sorrow of someone who carried too many secrets. Behind her, the Spirits of the Unveiled gathered in silence—a legion of translucent figures whose voices whispered faintly against the wind, unseen except for Arillia’s touch of the rare Gift.

“You,” a voice growled, sharp and guttural. “Ulithara’s chosen.” The voice came from a massive figure that stepped through the crowd, a man whose scars spoke of countless battles. He wore a breastplate fashioned of blackened ironscale with grieves to match, but his gaze was sharper than any weapon he carried.

Arillia offered him no bow. “Commander Belvar,” she replied, her tone level. “I presume you’ve come to arrest me, or perhaps to steal the Gift of the Spirits before the Lightfall.” She tilted her head, almost amused, though her footing shifted subtly, ready to counter any sudden movement.

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Behind her, the kitchen-table council of the resistance shifted in their spots, trying to read Belvar’s expression. The room, simple as it was, had the last semblance of Prava faction history written over the walls- torn defiance without clear tonal allegiance.

The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Light Blue Tank Top and High-Waisted Gray Leggings: Casual Chic Athleisure Outfit for Effortless Style

storybackdrop_1737491192_file The Radiant Voice of Ulithara

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2 comments

j

Not gonna lie, you had me hooked with the first line. Like, pyres burning bright and a sun-bleached sky? That’s a mood. Arillia’s whole vibe is on another level—those glass bead details and the runes on the staff? Ugh, chef’s kiss. But man, I wasn’t ready for that Commander Belvar entrance. Dude’s straight-up tension overload.

Here’s the thing though, the end feels a bit…incomplete? Like, what’s the deal with the kitchen-table council and the “last semblance” thing? Are they just chilling awkwardly while this insane standoff happens?? I wanna know more about what they’re thinking. Give me the tea! Otherwise, solid world-building and such vivid characters. 👏

pete
pete

yo this is lowkey epic lol
kinda wild how a tank top and leggings article turned into fantasy fire rituals and ghost squads 😂
but real talk, the vibe and atmosphere are 🔥🔥🔥
would love to see more worldbuilding tho, like what even IS the Lightfall??
still tho… props to the writer. this goes hard.

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