Ascension of the Luminarch

It is said that on the final day of their life, the Luminarch sat in stillness atop a sunlit stone, blind eyes lifted skyward, lips unmoving. Witnesses claim the air grew heavy and still, and the sun’s light sharpened until shadows vanished. When the veil was drawn aside, the Luminarch was gone.

No body, no blood. Only a faint scent of ash and myrrh, and the imprint of knees pressed into the stone.

Clerics call it the Ascension, the moment the Luminarch shed their mortal form and merged with the radiant Law they had once glimpsed.

Whether miracle, metaphor, or deception, none can say. But the place where they vanished is sealed, and no light touches its altar.