Luminosity - The Beginning - 8. Chapter 8

**
He left his hiding place and approached the stone Tomas had so reverently embraced. It was overgrown with vines and covered with a layer of dirt. Henry carefully pushed the vegetation to the side, brushed the soil from the stone, and looked in amazement at the deeply chiseled inscription on the ancient block. It was the tome of Gartwim, only different.

They were two united in Ymuno â. One was kind and one was strong and they both shined brightly together on the plains. One died in the preservation of his people and the other wreaked terrible revenge. Here lies Gar the kind. Twm the strong will forever watch over his people.

Henry repeated aloud the last line of the tome. "Twm the strong will forever watch over his people!"
**

Tomas was Twm, the strong and the destroyer of the nmblings, but how was it possible? The legend of Gartwin was thousands of cycles old. Henry may be new to this world, but he didn't know how any plainsrunner could stay on the plains that long. He had a lot to figure out, and there was so much he didn't know. He may need help.

It was time for gorffwys, and Boner wanted everyone there for a special announcement. Henry hurried to the roundhouses, arriving just in time to join the half circle.

When it came time for the novices and fledglings to contribute, Boner nervously rose to address the phalanx. Some of the boys started giggling. Boner gave them a dirty look and began. "Umm… I'm going to participate in ymuno â this gwyl."

As expected, the entire phalanx, including the primaries, cheered and laughed loudly. Henry was unaware of this news despite Boner being one of his closest friends. He was so absorbed in searching for Tomas and deciphering the mystery of Gartwim that he had neglected his friends.

It seemed Hywel was also unaware of Boner's impending bonding. "Who is the lucky plainsrunner?"

"It is Feirol!" Boner gushed.

"He is a mighty primary . . . and sexy too," Laughed Hywel.

Boner turned crimson as the phalanx erupted in laughter. Henry felt a little better and joined in the laughter.

"You must all sing for me!"

They all happily affirmed they would sing for Boneddigaidd during ymuno â on the third day of the gwyl celebration. They drank water and sang.

After gorffwys, Henry approached Aneurin and Diffuant.

"I have some questions about our lives as plainsrunners. Can you help me?" Asked Henry.

Diffuant Responded, "Henry, there are so many things you don't know. These are things you should have learned in your mangeni. Why didn't you receive this training?"

"I promised someone I wouldn't share that secret with anyone. I want to tell you everything, and maybe someday I can."

"Did you make this promise to Tomas?" Asked Aneurin.

Henry looked away, unwilling to speak Tomas' name.

Aneurin smiled kindly. "We trust you, Henry. Ask your questions."

Looking at Aneurin, then Diffuant, "Thank you, you are my family in this world."

He began. "How long do plainsrunners live on the plains?"

"Usually between twenty and thirty cycles, but it varies," replied Diffuant.

"Do any run the plains for millennia?"

Aneurin answered, "That is a strange question, Henry. Some say those strong in lumin live longer on the plains, but not millennia. Every plainsrunner longs to return to the mangeni one day. We visibly age in the mangeni, but after our passage to the plains, physical aging stops until we return to the mangeni to breed, raise children and train the next generation of plainsrunners. We are all compelled to complete the cycle."

Diffuant added, "Some legends speak of plainsrunners living long on the plains, some even reversing aging through sustained and exhausting expenditures of lumin, only to revive stronger than before. But these are just stories, and no one has witnessed this phenomenon."

Henry thought about this briefly, then asked, "Why was Gar the kind interred in the shrine rather than cremated in the mangeni?"

"I don't know Henry. Plainsrunners did things differently thousands of cycles ago, and Gar was exceptional and deserving of a special memorial," said Aneurin.

Diffuant continued, "As a toddler in the mangeni, I heard a story about the 'strong,' distraught in losing his mate, building a stone memorial to honor Gar the kind forever. It's a nice story, but we know the Great Shrine of Gartwim was built hundreds of cycles after the event. It was built by the plainsrunners of Dinas, with the help of all the settlements over a vast period of time."

"Thank you. I have learned much from your wise counsel. I have a great deal to think about."

Aneurin and Diffuant both watched Henry exit the roundhouse with concerned expressions on their faces.

Henry returned to the true Shrine of Gartwm to ponder all he had learned. Deep in the shady wooded gully, he reread the ancient tome and contemplated the legend.

They were two united in Ymuno â. One was kind and one was strong and they both shined brightly together on the plains. One died in the preservation of his people and the other wreaked terrible revenge. Here lies Gar the kind. Twm the strong will forever watch over his people.

The excitement built leading up to the first day of gwyl. All the plainsrunners from the settlement and visiting phalanxes assembled before the Great Shrine of Gartwim. They solemnly marched to the assembly area, singing poignant songs of sorrow in honor of those who lost their lives in Carreg and the survivors left behind to mourn the losses.

The rest of the day and most of the next, the plainsrunners participated in competitions between individuals and phalanxes. Henry's phalanx did well in many of the competitions, and Henry proudly secured the prestigious Double Touch win for novices. Some kidded him about being elevated to primary soon. Henry assured them he wasn't ready for a major step like that.

On the second day, the settlement also welcomed the new fledglings entering the plains for the first time. The innocent boys with wide-eyed expressions of wonder on their faces seeing Dinas and the Great Shrine for the first time brought warm smiles from all, welcoming them to their new lives. Later that day, they would attend their first gorffwys with their new phalanxes.

The return of honored plainsrunners to the mangeni also brought emotional farewells and commitments to meet again soon. As was the custom, many pledged plainsrunners returned to the mangeni together. These plainsrunners were all eager to start a new phase of their lives.

The highlight of the third day was the Ymuno â ceremonies and the flaring displays. Seven couples participated on this day. Boner and Feirol were the sixth couple scheduled to bond.

The ceremony began. Each participant and their supporters approached the dais, singing the earnest song of bonding. Some of the boys were ghost white with anxiety, not for fear of rejection, for that hadn't occurred in recent memory, but because of the momentousness of the occasion.

It was Boner's turn to take the frightening journey to the dais to confront Feirol and ceremoniously plead for bonding. Boner was shaking with nervousness. The phalanx sang imploringly. Without hesitation, Feirol leaped forward and aggressively grasped Boneddigaidd's hands with a gigantic, lustful smile. They were bonded, and the voices in the phalanx joyfully soared, and Boner blushed in expectation of a new adventure during the private time that gorffwys.

As they sang the joyous chorus of acceptance, Henry observed Tomas standing off by himself in an inconspicuous area to the side of the dais, watching the celebration.

The last Ymuno â of the day began.

Henry gathered his phalanx around him. "I will plead for Ymuno â today."

Confused, Hapus asked, "What are you talking about? You can't decide now."

"Yes, I can. I wish to bond with Twm . . . I mean Tomas."

"Tomas? I haven't seen him in over a cycle."

"He is here," said Henry

"Have you talked to him?" asked Diffuant.

"No"

"But Henry, what if he doesn't accept your offer?" Asked Hapus. "That would be horrible."

"I don't care. I have to try. Will you sing for me?"

With only a slight hesitation, they all affirmed, "We will sing for you, Henry."

The last scheduled Ymuno â of the day completed, the assembled plainsrunners were surprised to hear the song of bonding begin once again.

The phalanx, led by Henry, approached the dais, singing the song of pleading and acceptance of the offer of binding. The other phalanxes, although surprised, joined in the song.

The novices and fledgling of Henry's phalanx approached Tomas.
Henry stopped and resolutely stood in front of Tomas.

"Henry, what are you doing?" asked Tomas.

"Twm, I am not Gar the kind, and I never will be, but I am Henry, and I am here if you want me."

Tomas knew that Henry had learned of his true identity.

"You think you know who I am, Henry, but you don't. Yes, I am Twm of the legends, but I am also death. I have extinguished countless lives, for I am pledged to kill the enemies of our people, and that can never change."

They stood staring intensely into each other's eyes. There was pain in Twm's eyes and understanding in Henry's.

Henry raised his arms with open hands towards Twm, silently imploring him to seize them and confirm their pairing. After a pause, Twm stepped forward and grasped Henry's hands, tentatively at first but then firmly. They were bonded, and the voices of the chorus soared.

It was time for the newly pledged couples to flare across the plains to display their devotion to each other.

They lined up in order of their pledging in the Ymuno â ceremonies and proceeded out the entrance of Dinas. Boner and Feirol were sixth in line, and Henry and Twm were eighth and last in line.

All the primaries, novices, and fledglings followed them out of Dinas, forming against the cliffs in anticipation of a dazzling display. There were many strong primaries, and all assembled had high expectations.

The assembled plainsrunners cheered loudly as each couple cleared the safe zone, erupted, and flared majestically as they headed southeast in preparation for the penultimate sweep and return to the entrance of the settlement.

Henry’s eyes traced the blazing arcs of the couples ahead, their flares painting the heavens with torrents of incandescent light. Each eruption was a spectacle, a symphony of raw lumin that scorched the twilight air. His heart thundered—this was his dream made flesh. He ran not with Twm the strong of ancient lore, but with Tomas, the one who held his soul. As they breached the safe zone, Henry’s gaze swept to his phalanx below, their faces alight with fervor, all save Boner, who streaked ahead, lost in his own triumphant flare with Feirol. Their cheers rose, a primal roar urging Henry and Tomas onward, binding them to this moment.

Tomas ignited. The air shuddered with the surge of his power, a latent force so vast it seemed to warp the fabric of the plains. Henry felt it—a pulse of energy that sang in his bones—and answered with his own eruption, a fierce cascade of lumin that wove seamlessly with Tomas’. It was akin to their runs on Henry’s lost homeworld, yet magnified, as if the plains themselves amplified their bond. Their flare matched the others’ intensity effortlessly, a radiant beacon slicing through the gathering dusk. Henry’s mind raced, a single question burning: *How vast is Twm’s strength?*

None but Henry knew the truth. Tomas was Twm, the mighty, forged in the mangeni of Dinas thousands of cycles past, a legend cloaked in flesh. The plainsrunners below, their eyes fixed on the sky, saw only a man, not the immortal force who had shaped their history.

Each couple’s flare outdid the last, their lumin blazing like newborn stars against the deepening indigo of the riseset. The gorffwys sky drank their light, and the plains thrummed with the weight of it. Whispers rippled through the crowd—never had Dinas witnessed such a display. The flares were not mere tradition; they were a defiance of the ordinary, a declaration that this gwyl would be etched into the annals of their world.

As the seventh pair completed their run, their flare fading into embers, many primaries, novices, and fledglings began to drift back toward the settlement’s entrance, their minds perhaps clouded by the spectacle, forgetting the eighth pair announced in the ceremony’s final moments. But Henry’s phalanx stood firm, unyielding, their ranks now swelled by Boner and Feirol, who had returned from their own radiant flight. They formed a resolute line before the entrance, their eyes locked on the sky, waiting for Henry and Tomas to claim their moment.

Tomas and Henry arced in a graceful sweep, aligning with Dinas’ towering cliffs. Tomas’ voice cut through the wind, steady and charged with intent. “I am far stronger than you recall, Henry. Do you trust me?”

Henry’s pulse quickened, but his voice was iron. “I trust you utterly. If death claims me now, I will embrace it gladly.”

Tomas’ face broke into a smile, the first Henry had seen in over a cycle—a flicker of warmth that pierced the weight of his ancient burden. “You will not die this day,” he vowed.

Then Tomas’ flare surged, a cataclysmic bloom of lumin that tore at the boundaries of possibility. The blue counter-lumin thickened before them, a shimmering veil that pulsed with defiant energy. Henry’s breath caught as the flare grew, its intensity climbing beyond comprehension, the counter-lumin swelling in tandem to hold the raw power at bay. They stood motionless, suspended in the heart of the plains, as Twm unleashed a radiance no living soul had ever witnessed. It was not light—it was creation itself, a force that reshaped the air and scorched the earth below.

The cliffs blazed under the glow, their jagged faces illuminated as if by a second sun. Plainsrunners who had turned toward the settlement froze, their steps faltering, drawn back by the expanding brilliance that consumed the sky. A fledgling, voice shrill with awe, cried out, “Look! What is it?” The crowd stood transfixed, mouths agape, hearts pounding. This was no mere flare—it was the echo of legend, the rebirth of Gartwim’s era, when the kind and the strong had burned brighter than the stars. Whispers spread: ‘Is this the return of the ancient ones?’

Tomas turned to Henry, his eyes glinting with a mischievous fire, a spark of the eternal warrior unbound. “Are you ready?”

Henry’s heart raced, uncertainty warring with exhilaration. He offered a trembling smile, his voice a quiet surrender to fate. “I’m ready.”

The plains detonated. A maelstrom of unrestrained lumin erupted, a cataclysm that obliterated sight and sound. The world vanished in a white-hot void, the sheer power of Twm’s radiance searing through reality itself. Henry felt it—not pain, but a transcendence, as if he were no longer bound to flesh but part of the light itself.

In an instant, they stood at the edge of Dinas’ safe zone, the assembled plainsrunners gaping before them. A colossal shield of blue lumin, impossibly dense, held back the inferno of their flare, sparing the crowd from annihilation. The air crackled with residual energy, the ground scorched beneath their feet. As swiftly as it had begun, the flare collapsed, leaving only silence and the faint hum of fading lumin. Twm the mighty and Henry stepped forward, their bond unbroken, and faced the awestruck plainsrunners of Dinas, their presence a testament to a power that transcended time.

Epilogue

The Obelisk of Dinas awoke. The mightiest plainsrunner had chosen and something was watching — something far more ancient than Gartwm was watching.

The plains whispered of a darkness rising, waiting for the day Twm’s strength would falter—and Henry would be tested.