Lumen #1

"This isn’t working out, Adam. Let’s break up."

Victoria Stone spoke in a calm, almost lazy tone as she lounged on her luxurious white leather seat in her penthouse high above Solaris Bay. She wore a deep red dress that framed her perfectly and held a glass of expensive wine as if it had been crafted for her fingers alone. She sipped it, looking as serene as if she were commenting on the weather rather than ending a relationship.

At twenty-seven, the world knew Victoria Stone by name. She looked like someone sculpted to live among cameras and iration: tall, blonde, with the kind of figure both men and women dreamed of. She was an international supermodel, an influencer, and a style icon whose work had earned her fame, magazine covers, and a fortune most could only dream of.

Wealth flowed from her modeling work, her endorsements, and her clever investments. Her lingerie and swimsuit brands had become global sensations, already worth millions and growing in value every year. She owned real estate across Solaris Bay, held lucrative stocks, and controlled every inch of her image. She was rich, brilliant, and powerful.

To most of the world, Victoria Stone was glamorous and dazzling. Yet those who worked with her also whispered about the parts that glitter did not hide: she was vain, selfish, and addicted to attention. She was known for going through men like disposable accessories and was indifferent to the hearts she broke. A new boyfriend every few weeks.

Adam stared at her with wide, wounded eyes. He was only twenty-one, a cute photojournalist she had been dating for two weeks. He was attractive enough for casual fun but not interesting enough to keep longer than that. She had dated A-list actors, heirs to billion-dollar fortunes, top athletes, and other wealthy and beautiful men who crossed her path. But she avoided attachment as a rule and rarely kept a boyfriend for more than a month.

"Are you already bored of me, Victoria?" he cried. "I thought what we had was special. I thought I was different."

Victoria let out a soft sigh and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Barely two weeks, and he was already clinging. Almost every man she dated believed he would be the one to change her.

"Let’s not make this uglier than it has to be, Adam," she said. "We had fun for two weeks, but it’s time to move on. Both of us."

She pressed a small button under the armrest. Two towering security guards entered the room silently and gave Adam a firm but polite signal that his time in her world had ended.

Adam wavered, as if searching for a final plea, but he found nothing. He looked like he wanted to protest, to shout, or maybe to cry, but in the end, he let the guards escort him out. His shoulders slumped, and his face was sullen.

The door closed, and Victoria checked her phone without a hint of remorse. Messages waited for her: two A-list actors, a young and handsome prince from the Middle East who would one day inherit billions in oil money, his father the sultan who already had billions, a tech billionaire, a top supermodel, and multiple famous superheroes she had collaborated with during charity events. Victoria Stone could have any partner she wanted.

At twenty-seven, she was at the peak of her fame: obsessive fans, endless parties, editorial photo shoots that seemed to appear everywhere she turned. She had a new boyfriend nearly every other week and a reputation for destroying hearts for amusement. And she was not only a breathtaking supermodel but also a clever businesswoman who had secured her wealth many times over.

Beauty, fame, money, and power. She had it all. Yet even with her brands thriving, her properties rising in value, and her bank s overflowing, she felt something hollow inside. A faint ache. A sense that she was missing something important.

"You broke up with Adam."

A twelve-year-old voice brought her back to reality. Luke stood with his hands in his pockets, giving her a look that made it clear he had expected the breakup.

"I did," Victoria said with a small shrug. "He was getting too clingy, so I dumped him. Word of advice for when you’re older and you start feeling attracted to girls, Luke: don’t get too clingy. Girls hate that."

Luke said nothing. He simply sighed. His expression was quiet and resigned. He was getting taller, older. His features were beginning to resemble his father’s more each year, and Victoria felt a small twist in her chest every time she noticed it.

Lucas Albright. Luke. He had lived with her for six years, an arrangement she had stumbled into and barely survived at first. She cared about him deeply, yet she often wondered if she was doing more harm than good as a parental figure.

Six years earlier, she had dated his father, Daniel Albright, for a month. Daniel was a reporter, six years older than Victoria, a single father who had lost his wife years earlier and was raising Luke alone. He had interviewed her once for a magazine feature, and somehow the conversation had turned into something more.

Daniel had been a good man: handsome, kind, loyal, someone who carried quiet strength behind gentle eyes.

It was never supposed to be a long-term relationship. None of hers ever were. She had thought she would move in with him for a little while, enjoy the sweetness of a simple family life, then leave with minimal emotional fuss. She found his son Luke adorable, and they had become close almost instantly. "Aunt Vi," he had called her, with bright eyes and complete trust, and Victoria had liked the boy more than she cared to it.

Still, she had planned to end the relationship. She had made up her mind to do it that very evening. She had even rehearsed the speech. But before she could say a word, Daniel died in a car accident on the way home.

Suddenly, Luke was an orphan with no close relatives. The authorities planned to send him to an orphanage.

Victoria had acted without thinking, without planning, without hesitation. She stepped forward and claimed him as her responsibility, becoming his legal guardian even though she had never imagined herself raising a child. She had no skills for it. It was unplanned, messy, and frightening, but she could not bear the thought of letting him disappear into a place where he might be mistreated or forgotten.

Now, six years later, Luke was a twelve-year-old boy living with her in her penthouse, cared for by her immense fortune and her uncertain affection. Her wealth ensured he lacked nothing, except perhaps a proper role model or a responsible adult to emulate.

Luke raised an eyebrow at her. After six years, he understood Victoria better than anyone else in the world.

"So I should get a new girlfriend every week?"

Victoria shook her head. "No, girls will think you’re shallow, that you're scared of commitment—" She blinked when she realized what he was getting at.

Luke crossed his arms and gave her a look that reminded her painfully of Daniel.

"It’s different when I do it," she muttered, her lips pushing into a small pout. It always felt strange that when they were alone together, Luke seemed like the more mature one.

Luke shook his head slowly. "I worry about you, Aunt Vi. When you break up with guys, they get mad, don’t they?"

Victoria itted it with a small nod. "Some of them." A football player she broke up with had slashed her tires. A rapper she dumped had called her a bitch and wished for her ****.

"What if one of them tries to hurt you?" He tried to hide the concern, but she saw it clearly. He cared about her more than anyone else in the world.

Victoria smiled, warm for once. "That’s why I have bodyguards. The best money can buy. Don’t worry about me, Luke." He really did remind her of his father sometimes: thoughtful, kind, a little sarcastic in an endearing way. "And guys like Adam don’t really have the guts to try anything."

Luke murmured, "Just be careful, Aunt Vi."

---

A few days later, Victoria attended a party so exclusive that even the most famous people in Solaris Bay had to wait for invitations. Politicians, CEOs, tech moguls, celebrities, and top superheroes drifted among the chandeliers and marble pillars. Soft jazz buzzed through the air, and the scent of expensive perfume hung like an invisible cloud over everything.

Victoria glided through it all with practiced ease. She held a glass of wine and chatted with a famous director whose films had won international awards. He leaned closer, captivated by her presence.

"You should get into movies next," he said, half-iring and half-pitching. "With your looks and your name, you could be as big as Marilyn Monroe was."

Victoria smirked. The thought had crossed her mind before. "I’ll tell my agent to get in touch with you."

She moved on, weaving through the party like a queen. This was her element. International supermodel with millions of fans. A beautiful, wealthy, and powerful woman with the world at her fingertips. She carried herself with the confidence of someone used to spotlights and was smart enough to thrive in them.

"The next big thing is the arms industry," a tech billionaire told her as he intercepted her path, speaking with the intensity of a zealot. "You should invest in my automated drone company."

Victoria stirred her drink. "Weapons don’t really go with my brand."

He lowered his voice urgently. "Think about the profits. Sleep on it before you make your decision."

"I’ll consider it," she lied with a polite smile before drifting away.

Everywhere she walked, people stared at her, some with envy, some with desire, and some with a hunger for proximity to her fame. She felt their eyes like warm lights on her skin. This was what she lived for: being seen, being adored, and being the center of everything.

And tonight, she felt at the top of the world. Untouchable.

Still, she had to go home soon. The babysitter was with Luke, but he had a school play the next day, and she wanted to be there. Maybe she would give him some advice or listen to his ideas. He always lit up when she pretended to care about school things, and lately, she was trying to pretend a little less.

A famous soccer player flirted with her, brushing her arm and whispering sweet, shallow compliments. She flirted back with a lazy smile. Maybe she’d call him later. Maybe.

Eventually, she made her way toward the exit, her chauffeur already bringing up her luxury car. Before getting in, she paused in front of the velvet ropes to let the reporters take her photo. Flashbulbs exploded like tiny fireworks. Victoria posed effortlessly: chin tilted, lips parted, and eyes smoldering. What was the point of attending a party like this if it didn’t keep her on magazine covers for another week?

"Miss Stone, is it true you’re dating the prince—"

A reporter started shouting a question, but Victoria didn’t hear the rest.

Because among the crowd of photographers, she saw Adam.

He had his press ID around his neck, giving him access past security. His hair was messy, his expression frantic. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his hands trembled.

And instead of his usual camera, he was holding a gun disguised within the camera housing.

Victoria froze.

"Adam—" she started, though she didn’t know what she meant to say.

He pulled the trigger.

The blast was deafening. A sharp, searing pain tore through Victoria’s chest. Her wineglass shattered from her hand. Her breath vanished. She dropped to her knees as the world tilted violently around her.

She looked down. Blood was blooming across her dress, dark and spreading like ink.

The sound around her became muffled and distant, as if she were sinking underwater. People were screaming. Reporters scrambled. Photographers stumbled backward, tripping over one another.

Security guards swarmed Adam, tackling him to the ground. The gun clattered away. He didn’t fight. He didn’t run.

He looked horrified.

"I... I’m so sorry," he babbled as they pinned him down, his voice cracking. "I’m so sorry, Victoria... I didn’t mean... I just... I’m so—"

His words dissolved into sobbing apologies.

Victoria’s vision blurred. Lights smeared into streaks. Her body felt cold, too cold, as her blood stained the marble beneath her. She tried to inhale but couldn’t. She tried to scream, but her throat gave no sound.

Voices echoed all around her:

"Call an ambulance!"

"Get back, give her space!"

"Is she breathing?"

"My God... she’s been shot!"

Someone tried to press down on her wound, but she barely felt it. Darkness crept in like fog.

Her thoughts scattered.

The last one she caught was of Luke.

Luke alone in the world.

No one left.

No one to protect him.

Then everything went black.

---

“We are losing her!”

“She’s lost too much blood—”

“ the next of kin—”

The voices echoed through Victoria’s mind, distant and distorted, as though she were hearing them from underwater. She floated in an endless void, weightless and numb. She was dying. She knew it. And she was powerless to stop it.

Blackness stretched around her like an ocean with no surface. She tried to move but had no body, no breath, no heartbeat. Just drifting.

Another voice cut through the void, urgent, ****.

“Try the Lumen therapy. Use synthetic EM-cell infusion and repair her tissue via energy catalysis—”

A second voice snapped back, panicked. “It has less than a five percent chance of survival—”

“If we don’t try, she has zero chance!”

Silence. A terrible, suspended silence.

Then—

A blinding light tore into her.

It wasn’t like seeing light; it was like "becoming" light: electric, burning, overwhelming. Energy filled her veins like molten fire. The agony was indescribable, as if her cells were being unraveled and remade one by one.

She wanted to scream but had no voice. She wanted to run but had no body.

It went on for an eternity.

A thousand eternities.

Until suddenly—

She gasped.

Her eyes snapped open.

---

Bright white lights glared down at her from the surgery suite ceiling. The room was empty now, IV bags swaying gently, monitors humming softly.

Victoria lay on a hospital bed, her body trembling.

“I’m alive…” she whispered, shocked to hear her own voice.

Memories rushed back like a floodgate bursting open.

Adam raising the gun.

The deafening shot.

The pain.

Blood pouring down her chest.

Darkness swallowing her whole.

And now, she was here.

Breathing.

Somehow alive.

She lifted her hand, though it felt heavy, uncoordinated. As she moved, the overhead light flickered sharply, once, like a shutter snapping closed.

Victoria froze.

“What the hell—”

A faint glow pulsed at the tip of her index finger, a soft shimmer like a dying sparkler. It lasted only a moment before fading.

Her breath caught.

That had to be a hallucination. A side effect of the ****. A trick of the dying mind still lingering.

Right?

Her heart hammered, too fast, too strong. She was trembling, not from fear, but from… something else. Like static in her blood.

Footsteps approached rapidly.

A nurse’s voice pierced the silence. “Patient is awake... patient is awake!”

Victoria sank back into the pillow as a wave of dizziness washed over her. The room spun, then steadied.

She stared at the faint reflection of her hand in a nearby medical cabinet, searching for the glow that wasn’t there anymore.

But she had seen it.

She knew she had seen it.

Something inside her was different.