Who You Truly are Matters.
More Than You Know.
General Rhona didn’t expect her mission to light the fuse on a galactic war.
However, when the Marauders’ Syndicate abducts Ivy, daughter of the missing king, she refuses to stand down. With MaxWell’s chaotic brilliance, Aora’s quiet magic, and Domingo’s newly forged will, Rhona tears through shadow markets and hidden prisons, cutting a path toward the girl who could change everything.
As betrayals strike fast and empires crack, Rhona confronts the ghosts she buried and the explosive truth MaxWell hides. In a galaxy ready to burn, love and loyalty become the sharpest weapons she owns, and she’ll wield them before the darkness can strike first.
©2025 The Last Lumenian™ by Lilac Grove Entertainment LLC, all rights reserved.
Feel free to review our Terms of Use | Privacy Policy | California Consumer Privacy Act
Who You Truly are Matters.
More Than You Know.
General Rhona didn’t expect her mission to light the fuse on a galactic war.
However, when the Marauders’ Syndicate abducts Ivy, daughter of the missing king, she refuses to stand down. With MaxWell’s chaotic brilliance, Aora’s quiet magic, and Domingo’s newly forged will, Rhona tears through shadow markets and hidden prisons, cutting a path toward the girl who could change everything.
As betrayals strike fast and empires crack, Rhona confronts the ghosts she buried and the explosive truth MaxWell hides. In a galaxy ready to burn, love and loyalty become the sharpest weapons she owns, and she’ll wield them before the darkness can strike first.
©2025 The Last Lumenian™ by Lilac Grove Entertainment LLC, all rights reserved.
Feel free to review our Terms of Use | Privacy Policy | California Consumer Privacy Act
Who You Truly are Matters.
More Than You Know.
CHAPTER 1
RHONA
My body slams into the ground, facedown.
Oomph!
Pain erupts—sharp, blinding—as my nose crunches, and my split lips scrape the coarse red sand. It burns. Every nerve screams. My battered body is a tapestry of agony, painted with sweat, blood, and grit. The hot, metallic tang of my blood coils in the air, mixing with the sunbaked scent of the fight circle. The melded generals never gave me a chance. Not that I expected one.
I am so tired.
Get up. Get up!
Grains of sand embed themselves into the raw skin of my palms as I drag my arms beneath me. My muscles seize in protest. Pain cascades over me.
I whimper.
Blood mingles with salty sweat, dripping into my eyes. My right one’s already swollen shut, a pulsing mess of bruising. The unrelenting heat from the midday Teryn sun scorches my back through my black dress uniform.
Through blurry vision, I spot the edge of the fight circle. So close. Just a hand’s span away.
But I can’t leave the fight.
Not until it’s over.
Come on, Rhona! Pull yourself together! For the love of swords, get up!
I push up to my hands and knees. My arms quake, a breath away from collapse.
I need just one moment. One second to think, to plan.
“Not so fast,” Milt growls.
The boot drives into my stomach.
The force of the kick hurls me to the side. Air flees my lungs in a hoarse cry. My ribs scream. I curl, folding into myself, arms over my head.
This is it. The reckoning I’ve always known was coming.
Gasping for air, I watch Milt through one blood-streaked eye.
His leg draws back.
And the last thing I see—
—is his boot, flying straight at me.
