The Broken
Lylanthea is pronounced (Li-Lan-Thia). I hope to make this into a novel one day. I already have much of the world, much of the lore and the main plot worked out. I want to stay away from Tolkien and other fantasy authors and create what I hope is something unique. You can't have an elf in the story and not have some crossover, but I will address those in the novel. In the mean time this short story is just a tiny, tiny taste of what I have in mind.
The air in the Lylari cities did not merely exist; it sang. It was a shimmering, melodic weave of pale lavender light that pulsed through the crystalline spires and the living, breathing architecture of the great "buildings". To any other being, the city would have seemed a dream of impossible geometry, a place where life and magic were so inextricably entwined that one could not tell where the building ended and the Lux began. But to Lylanthea, the song was a taunt. It was a symphony she could hear, yet her senses remained clumsy, unable to catch even a single note of its divine melody.
She was fifty-eight years of age, a mere child by the reckoning of the Lylari, barely having emerged from the long, soft dawn of her adolescence, but her heart felt as heavy and weathered as an ancient oak. She moved through the glowing corridors of her home with a restless, jagged energy. Around her, the elders moved with a grace that was almost terrifying, their minds, hands and song, knitting light into solid form, breathing life into the very stones. They used the Lux as easily as a human might breathe, a seamless extension of their will. Lylanthea, however, felt only the frustration of a broken tool. She could smell the sweet, floral scent of the Lux, a fragrance like pale lavender and morning dew, but when she reached for it, her magic slipped through her mind like sand through a sieve.
The anger was a hot, bitter thing in her gut, a dark knot that refused to be unraveled. She hated the effortless perfection of her kin; she hated the way they looked at her with eyes full of pitying kindness, as if she were a fledgling bird that had forgotten how to fly. Most of all, she hated herself. The Lux was life, it was creation, it was the very essence of what it meant to be Lylari. To be unable to command it was to be a ghost in one's own body.
Driven by a need to escape the suffocating glow of the city, she fled toward the deep woods. She needed the silence of the earth, the unadorned reality of the wild, away from the shimmering, artificial perfection of the crystal spires. She sought the center of her own being, that sacred, quiet place where the soul and the world become one. As she delved deeper into the shadows of the ancient forest, the air grew heavy and damp, stripped of the city’s lavender light. Here, the world was dark, raw, and unapologetically real. The lux was still there, it is everywhere, but much softer, muted, just a faint tone waftng in the breeze.
The heat of her frustration burned in her cheeks. To truly connect with the pulse of the world, she felt she must strip away the layers of civilization, the silken garments that acted as a barrier between her skin and the earth. She shed her clothes, casting them aside like useless husks, until she stood naked and vulnerable amidst the moss and the loam. The cool dampness of the forest floor was a shock to her skin, a grounding sensation that promised the clarity she so desperately craved. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind, trying to find the thread of the Lux in the darkness.
She took a step, her foot seeking purchase on a moss-covered root. But there was no solid wood beneath her. There was a sickening, soft *crunch*, a sound that felt far too loud in the sudden, heavy silence of the woods. Her eyes snapped open. Beneath the arch of her foot lay a small, woodland creature, its tiny body crushed into the dark earth. Its eyes, wide and glassy, reflected the moonlight in a way that made her heart seize.
A wave of grief, sudden and violent, crashed over her. It was not merely the death of a creature; it was the weight of her own clumsiness, the realization of how easily life could be extinguished by a single, thoughtless movement. In that moment of profound sorrow, something shifted within the architecture of her soul. The grief was not a void; it was a presence. It was a cold, hungry shadow that rushed to fill the hollow spaces left by her despair.
And then, she tasted it. It was not the sweet, floral scent of the Lux. This was something else, something ancient, dark, and terrifyingly potent. It was the taste of ash and old graves, a cold, metallic tang that coated her tongue and chilled her very marrow. It was Tenebrea. The forbidden magic of destruction, the shadow that lived in the spaces between the stars, had found a doorway through her grief.
She watched, paralyzed by a mixture of horror and a dark, intoxicating fascination, as the life force of the creature bled out into the earth. It did not flow like the Lux; it ebbed like a receding tide, leaving behind a void that pulsed with a rhythmic, dark hunger. For the first time in her life, Lylanthea felt the power. It was not the gentle, creative warmth of her people; it was a jagged, predatory strength that demanded to be fed. She had reached for the light and found the shadow, and in the terrifying silence of the forest, she realized that the path of the Lylari was far more complex than any elder had ever dared to teach.
Something so far away, that distance had no meaning, stirred. Something so ancient that even the stars had no memory of it. It awaken with a jolt, by something it thought it would never encounter, but here was the unmistakable signature of a savant, a potential scion.
Lylanthea doesn't have a "models page", but she does have a members only gallery that you can view HERE
Just to be abundantly clear....none of these "women" exist in real life. They are 100% computer generated by Ai. All the Ai "models" are generated to represent "women" who are over 18 years of age.
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