But... What on Earth—or rather, what on this alien world?
Beneath the hood is a being eerily human-like. The architecture of its face—nose, mouth, eyes, ears, eyebrows—all precisely where they'd be on a human. Yet, it's glaringly obvious that this is not a human.
It appears male, though I'm not sure how to categorize what I'm seeing.
His words come out in a melodic, consonant-heavy cadence: "Vralk zyrenth klorj."
I can see in his expression that he understands my confusion. I try to gesture with my hands, pointing at him and shrugging my shoulders. It seems effective. He turns serious, nods his head, and then points between my legs.
"What the hell do you want, you pervert?!" He clearly understands that I'm entirely against engaging in any sexual activity with him, as his face twists into a look of disgust.
"Zylok vrindal qyarth," he says with a tone of disdain, visibly trembling as he speaks.
"You think I'm some kind of animal?" In a crude manner, I mimic the gesture of a monkey. Why the hell did I do that? How would he know what a monkey is?
"Grinth zylok qyarth," he shakes his head negatively while practically spitting out the words in contempt.
From behind the bushes, the other beings emerge. Some stand beside him, and they exchange words. One of them smacks the one who was speaking to me. "Vralk zyrenth!" she says in an irritated tone. Yes, in this case, it's a female, or a woman, or whatever.
They exchange words for a few moments.
"Hey, I'm right here," I say, clearly annoyed.
They converse among themselves for a while. I start to get bored. Somehow, these beings are irritating me just by their demeanor. I feel like they're deciding whether to abandon a dog on the road or take care of it.
I pick up a small stone and throw it at the first one who spoke to me, hitting him with the precision of a Toxotidae. I think I've only made him angrier. He points his right index finger at me and shouts, "Zylok vrindal!"
Soon it becomes a mess, everyone talking at once, a jumble of words in chaos.
Finally, I decide to stand up. Enough of this alien circus. I walk up to them, and they immediately back away, drawing their weapons. The weapons look like boomerangs made of reflective metal, their surfaces filled with intricate technological details—clearly an extremely advanced weapon.
We all stand still, staring at each other, just waiting for someone to make a move. I show them my clenched fists as a sign for them to capture me. It seems like the only way out of this situation.
Sure enough, that's what they do. A sort of belt is placed around my wrists, tightening on its own until it's firmly in place. Then it inflates and sticks one arm to the other.
Soon, they begin to lead me through the vegetation. The walk is long. They continue to converse irritably among themselves. Then we enter a region with a clearer area, and I can see them more distinctly. They appear to be young, all with perfect features, their faces complex and beautiful. All have colorful eyes, most with one eye of a different color than the other, spanning the entire spectrum. They have what I would consider piercings, all adorned with what look like gemstones, covering various parts of their faces.
I can see tattoos on their necks, many different colors, all very vivid and beautiful, hidden by their cloaks. Their size is very similar to humans, but considering they might be young specimens of their species, it's possible that the adults are actually taller.
Their skin has a wide range of tones, but very close to human. Some have more vivid tones, but most have pastel shades. They are marvelous beings. I am very captivated by the young female among them, but it's strange because she seems very young. Now I feel like the pervert.
At one point, we stop. The first one to make contact with me points his finger at me again and says several things, very disturbed, looking at me and shooting a look of repulsion. I must have really irritated him for him to be this pissed off.
Everyone laughs and seems to mock the guy. Somehow, I feel offended; it seems like they are really treating me like an animal.
I notice some small metal posts forming what appears to be a path. Small posts, with a diamond-shaped light at the tip, glowing faintly but illuminating very efficiently around them, especially dispelling shadows.
For some more time, we walk calmly along this path. The chatter is starting to irritate me; they just won't shut up. They are laughing all the time, as if making jokes. It gives me the chills to think they might be about me.
From a distance, I can see a wall. It seems to be high and very well fortified, made of rocks, perfectly blended into nature, and I clearly notice that there is no deforestation. They seem to respect nature a lot.
Some more time and we get close to the wall, or rather, the fortress. Highly reinforced, I can see watchtowers, weapon tips appearing from holes all around, structural reinforcements along the entire wall, and what I thought was rock now leaves me in doubt whether it's metallic or rocky. We stop in front.
The young female, or what is supposed to be a female—it's exhausting to keep trying to explain without making it sound like I'm talking about humans—anyway, the female steps forward, extends her hand, and a few seconds later, a tiny part of the wall rises, opening an entrance at least 3 meters high.
They have not been aggressive with me at any point; they did not pull or push me. This time, some just look at me as if they expect me to start walking.
And I do.
We pass through an expansive tunnel, giving me the impression that the wall is incredibly thick. It's adorned with what I can only describe as branches, seamlessly fused into the material, as if constructed in harmony with the local nature. The structure is both beautiful and imposing, reminiscent of the mythical tales of dwarves dwelling in mountains.
I'm in awe, and I notice they're talking about me, clearly observing my admiration for the place. They start to laugh; they're definitely mocking me. Damn them.
Emerging from the tunnel, I find myself in a city that defies description, yet begs to be described. The pathways are not mere roads but intricate tapestries of stone and flora, woven together in a pattern that suggests both planning and organic growth. Buildings rise like colossal blooms from the earth, their walls a blend of mineral and plant matter, as if they were grown rather than built.
The air is filled with a soft luminescence, emanating from a species of towering trees with bioluminescent leaves. Their glow bathes the city in a perpetual twilight, casting ethereal shadows that dance and play on the surfaces below. The light itself seems alive, pulsating gently, as if in tune with the heartbeat of the city.
The architecture is a marvel of curves and angles, with no two structures appearing exactly alike. Some edifices spiral towards the sky like the twisted trunks of ancient trees, while others sprawl horizontally, their branches forming natural bridges between buildings. Balconies and terraces are adorned with flowering vines that cascade downward, creating waterfalls of blossoms and leaves.
Despite the grand scale of the city, there's an intimacy to it, a sense that every stone and leaf has its place. It's as if the city itself is a living entity, breathing and evolving, yet eternally serene. The atmosphere is one of tranquil majesty, a sanctuary that could house tens of thousands but is content in its sparsity.
The city's almost arcane pathways are practically empty. There are very few of these beings around; it feels more like a city of nature with a few humanoid guests. The seven young beings lead me cheerfully along the city's natural thoroughfare, which I notice leads to an enormous structure. The building stands as the epitome of grandeur, its walls a harmonious blend of what appears to be marble and intertwined vines. Towering spires reach skyward, crowned with clusters of the same bioluminescent foliage that illuminates the city. Intricate carvings decorate the façade, depicting scenes that seem to tell stories of unity between the natural world and some advanced civilization.
I'm the main attraction here. Like a circus bear riding a tricycle. Why do I continue to feel this way?
I notice differences in maturity among them, but not in age. They all appear to be young and exceedingly beautiful. Their features are symmetrical to the point of artistry, their skin flawless and radiant. Their eyes are captivating, each a different hue, as if capturing the essence of gemstones—sapphires, emeralds, and even colors I've never seen before. Their hair flows like liquid silk, each strand perfectly in place yet giving the impression of effortless beauty. Their movements are fluid, each step a testament to a form of evolved grace, as if they've transcended the clumsiness that so often plagues humanity.
We arrive in front of the grand mansion. Now I can clearly see the carvings etched into its structure. They are so beautiful that they almost move me to tears. Figures dance in a celestial ballet, embracing the supernatural nature around them. It's an ode to advancement, not just of a species, but of an entire ecosystem. It's something so marvelous that it makes me feel averse to my own kind. A vision of the world, of life, of existence, that is surely the closest thing to transcending reality.
I stand still, my mind capturing every detail.
"Vralk zyrenthia klorjia," says the female being. Her voice is tinged with concern and tenderness. My gaze slowly meets hers.
She is breathtakingly beautiful, a living embodiment of ethereal grace. Her skin is flawless, glowing with an almost iridescent sheen. Her hair, a cascade of golden strands, frames her face like a halo. But what captures me the most are her eyes—both a soft, clear red, like the first blush of dawn. They are eyes that seem to hold galaxies within them, a depth of emotion and wisdom that belies her youthful appearance.
I think she senses what I'm feeling; her eyes convey a sense of fondness. Her hand slowly reaches out and gently takes mine, then she begins to lead me toward the entrance.
We ascend a small staircase, each step crafted from twisted wood that seems almost alive, as if the very environment is pulsating around me.
The interior of the mansion is incredible. It's as if the boundary between the natural world and the built environment has been erased. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings that continue the celestial ballet theme from the exterior, but here, they are accentuated with what appear to be luminescent vines, their soft glow providing a gentle illumination. The furniture is not so much made as it is grown—chairs and tables seem to sprout organically from the floor, their forms flowing and ergonomic.
The color palette inside is a symphony of earth tones, punctuated by bursts of vibrant hues from what look like naturally occurring gemstones embedded into the walls. These gemstones not only serve as decorative elements but also seem to function as a sort of ambient lighting, their soft luminescence casting a serene glow throughout the space.
The ceilings are high, giving the impression of being in an open forest canopy. What catches my eye is a large tree at the center of the main hall, its branches stretching out to touch the walls, as if embracing the structure. The tree's leaves are unlike any foliage I've ever seen—translucent and shimmering, almost as if made of crystal. They emit a soft, natural light that bathes the room in an otherworldly glow.
Fabrics that look like woven moonlight drape elegantly over the furniture, their texture almost liquid to the touch. Artifacts that defy description are tastefully placed around the room—objects that seem both ancient and futuristic, as if they are relics from a time that is yet to come.
She guides me to one of the chairs, helping me sit down with the utmost care. "Zyrenth vralok," she says softly. Looking around, I realize that it's just the two of us now; the others have dispersed.
Then she ascends a small staircase on the opposite side of the room and vanishes into the upper floor. I'm left alone in this fantastical environment. I can't get enough of the new sights; every nook and cranny holds something utterly captivating that seizes my full attention.
I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here waiting, but I don't particularly care. I'm tempted to get up and start touching everything I see. However, the sensation of sitting is incredibly comforting. This accursed chair is so warm and inviting that I want one for myself.
After some time, I hear the sound of footsteps on the staircase. The female being descends slowly, and behind her is a different figure.
This individual exudes an aura of ancient wisdom, as if the weight of countless lifetimes rests upon his shoulders. His features are a mosaic of fine lines and wrinkles, each one a chapter in a long, storied life. His eyes are a deep shade of indigo, so dark they almost appear black, yet they sparkle like distant stars, filled with untold knowledge and experience. His hair is a silvery cascade that flows down his back, contrasting sharply with the vibrant hues of his attire, which seems to be woven from threads of pure light and shadow.
As he steps into the room, it's as if the very atmosphere acknowledges his presence. The luminescent vines on the walls seem to glow a bit brighter, the gemstones shimmer with a renewed vigor, and even the central tree appears to sway gently, as if greeting an old friend. It's a deeply emotional moment, as if the environment itself is extending a warm welcome to this venerable being.
He moves with a grace that defies his apparent age, each step a measured dance that resonates with the world around him. As he approaches, I can't help but feel that I'm in the presence of someone—or something—that has transcended the ordinary limits of existence.
He sits across from me, on the opposite side of what appears to be a counter, and takes a seat. For a moment, it seems as if the chair itself adjusts to welcome him more comfortably.
He locks eyes with me, giving the impression that I'm staring into the eyes of a cosmic entity.
The being before me radiates not just an aura of nobility but also that of a warrior who has fought countless battles.
I swallow hard, unsure whether to speak or wait for his next move. If I try to escape now, I sense it would be in vain.
His stern expression shifts into a graceful one. His mouth forms a smile, and the wrinkles around his eyes curve into half-moons.
"Welcome to Cydonia," he says, his voice brimming with contentment, his English pronunciation flawless.