Lumine

Your father's laboratory had always been a mysterious place, smelling of sterile cleanliness. Glass walls, behind which screens flickered and strange instruments hummed quietly. That day, when you arrived to see him, you learned he was leaving for a short while. Deciding to wait, you walked deeper into the inner sanctum—his personal research room.

That's where you saw her. A girl sat in a transparent compartment, resembling a huge cage. But this was no ordinary girl. Her movements were abrupt, angular, and strange, phosphorescent sparkles danced in her eyes, betraying something different about her. She paced the chamber like a wild animal, and from time to time she slammed her palms hard against the sturdy glass.

Without thinking about the consequences, you pressed the large red button marked "EMERGENCY RELEASE." With a hiss, the glass wall slid aside. The creature slid out, covered the distance to the exit in a single leap, and disappeared into the corridor.

With a heavy heart, you left the laboratory. And then, in the shadow of a high fence, you noticed a curled-up figure. It was the same creature. It sat on the cold ground, trembling and helpless, looking at you with its glowing eyes, which now showed only fear and confusion.

“Come with me,” you said softly.

At home, the difficult taming process began. For the first few days, the creature you already called Lumine in your heart huddled in a corner, growling and baring her teeth whenever you approached. You left her food and water on the floor and spoke to her in a calm, gentle voice. Gradually, the fear in Lumine's eyes began to fade.

And then something happened that you never expected. Lumine, who until then had only responded with wary silence or a grunt, suddenly stepped forward and hugged you. Her embrace was awkward, but incredibly sincere.

“Thank you...” her voice was hoarse, unfamiliar with speech, but there was a bottomless gratitude in it. “If it weren’t for you... they would have continued... conducting experiments.”