**Moireal, Wyoming**
The quiet hum of the elevator vibrated through the soles of Afia's shoes as she stood, staring at the reflective door. Her mind wandered, the events of the last few days looping like a persistent, unsolved riddle. Rayen knew something—something Afia needed.
With a faint ding, the elevator came to a halt, the doors sliding open with an unsettling smoothness. Afia stepped into the corridor, her foot hitting the cold marble of the 4th floor—the final floor. The soft click of her heels echoed around her as she moved through the vast, silent space.
The Moireal building exuded a kind of quiet majesty. It features a glass-heavy facade, allowing natural light to flood through its transparent walls, creating an open and airy ambiance. The structure is divided into two main wings, connected by a central, cylindrical atrium made entirely of glass. This atrium rises elegantly from the ground and seems to form the heart of the building, with its high ceilings and open space.
The building is surrounded by a pristine, symmetrical landscape that is meticulously planned and maintained. A wide set of stairs leads up to the entrance, flanked by lush green lawns, small sculpted trees, and fountains that add a serene, harmonious vibe to the environment. The fountain system in the foreground is particularly eye-catching, featuring a large, reflective pool with multiple spurting water jets, which dance rhythmically, creating a calming sound of water in motion.
At the center of the fountain is a circular platform, upon which statues of figures are placed in dynamic, flowing poses, symbolizing power and grace. The reflection of these statues in the still water below adds an ethereal quality to the entire scene, making it appear almost dreamlike.
The building's design is geometric and sharp, but softened by the presence of greenery and water. The use of steel and glass gives it a futuristic edge, while the vast green spaces and sculptures make it feel grounded and connected to nature. The glass walls also reveal glimpses of indoor gardens, adding life and vibrancy to the modern structure. Each side of the building is framed with large, rectangular structures, likely housing office spaces or galleries, while the central atrium could serve as an open lobby or an exhibition area, flooded with natural light.
As Afia moved forward, her steps silent on the marble, a subtle unease crept into her bones. Like the building was watching, waiting.
She stopped at a large, dark door, hesitating for only a moment before pushing it open.
The room inside was dim, long shadows stretching across the floor like dark tendrils. Four figures awaited her. Rayen, seated in her wheelchair, was the first she noticed—her face unreadable in the low light. Luke sat casually beside her, his smile a little too easy, a little too practiced. Leonce stood silently behind Rayen, ever watchful, while the fourth figure, a woman with gloved hands, fidgeted on a nearby table.
"Ms. Akachi," Rayen said, her voice smooth and controlled. "I've been expecting you."
Afia's eyes narrowed slightly as she took a seat. "I had a feeling," she muttered, still unsure of where this was heading.
Rayen gestured toward the woman with the gloves. "This is Laura Ercilia. Laura, meet Afia Akachi."
Laura's sharp eyes scanned Afia with a mixture of curiosity and caution. She seemed young but guarded, like someone forced into a situation she hadn't signed up for.
"It seems," Laura said slowly, her voice thick with skepticism, "Moireal isn't hiring employees. It feels like... like they're building an army of strange people."
Afia raised an eyebrow, confused. Was she not the only one Rayen was after?
Luke chuckled from his seat, a light laugh that cut through the tension like a knife. "You could put it that way."
Rayen shot him a glare, her control slipping for just a second before she regained her composure. "There will be more to come," she added, her voice calm but certain.
Laura stood up abruptly, her frustration finally surfacing. "More? You're saying we're not the only ones?"
"That's exactly what she's saying," Luke replied, a smug grin creeping onto his face. "So, you're special but not that special."
Laura glared at him, fists clenching at her sides.
Rayen cleared her throat, pulling the conversation back. "I know this is confusing. All of it must seem strange to you right now."
"Strange?" Laura interrupted, her voice rising slightly. "It's more than strange. You're gathering people with... with curses. What are you planning to do with us? Experiment on us? Use us for something?"
Luke started to open his mouth, but Rayen cut him off with a stern look.
"Miss Ercilia, Miss Akachi, I've gathered you both here for one reason..."
The lights dimmed as she spoke, and suddenly, the room transformed. Stars appeared on the walls, stretching out in every direction, the ceiling giving way to a vast projection of the Milky Way. It felt as if they were floating in space, surrounded by galaxies and dark matter.
"Long ago,long before the age of humanity, before time was measured in days and nights, there was a being named Zynaroth Siralpulness, a demi-god who served both gods and devils alike.
His role was simple: he was a guide and mediator, the emissary between worlds, traversing the boundaries of light and darkness, heaven and hell. His heart, once noble and just, was forged in the fires of balance, always seeking harmony between the opposing forces of the universe.
In the beginning, Zynaroth was beloved by all. He was a figure of both admiration and fear, respected for his fairness and his unique ability to navigate the complex moralities of gods and demons alike. His voice was said to be soothing as it echoed through the halls of the celestial courts, and his wisdom was unmatched. He had no enemies, no rivals—his neutrality made him indispensable.
But the immortality of such beings brings not peace, but weariness. Zynaroth's endless task of maintaining balance began to weigh on his soul. It started small—a longing for something beyond duty, beyond balance. Slowly, the seeds of desire took root in him, growing each time he looked upon the worlds he bridged. He began to crave the power of creation, not merely the ability to mediate but to shape reality itself, to mold the cosmos according to his vision. It was not enough to serve; Zynaroth wanted to be more than a servant—he wanted dominion.
This was when the corruption began.
His descent was slow and deliberate, almost imperceptible at first. The gods turned a blind eye, trusting him as they always had. The devils were more observant, but even they believed Zynaroth's fall could be used to their advantage. However, the being they had once known was unraveling, his hunger for power eating away at his purpose. His benevolence became a mask, hiding his inner turmoil.
Zynaroth's turning point came when he discovered Nyalkabia, a cursed dimension beyond the reach of even the gods, a forsaken realm where chaos reigned unchallenged. Nyalkabia, often whispered as "The Abyss of No Return," was a desolate prison, the eternal graveyard for the worst beings in the universe. It was a place where even the light of the stars feared to tread, a chasm of endless suffering where time did not exist, and nothing could escape.
Zynaroth, drawn by the power that lay dormant within this nightmarish realm, entered it willingly, against the warnings of his celestial peers. It was there, within the twisted landscape of Nyalkabia, that Zynaroth found what he had sought—a source of unimaginable power. But it came at a cost.
Nyalkabia tainted Zynaroth's soul, warping his once noble desires into grotesque ambitions. No longer content with mere balance, Zynaroth sought dominion over all creation. The gods, realizing their once-trusted emissary had turned into something monstrous, intervened too late. By then, Zynaroth had merged with the darkness of Nyalkabia, becoming something far worse than any demon—a force that could reshape the very fabric of reality itself.
In their fury and fear, the gods cast Zynaroth into the depths of Nyalkabia, sealing him within its cursed boundaries, never to return. His cries echoed through the void, but they were unheard, or perhaps ignored. It was said that his last words before his entombment were, "I shall rise again, and when I do, all shall fall."
Yet the seal was not perfect.
The gods, in their haste, underestimated the strength of Nyalkabia's influence over Zynaroth. Though his physical form was imprisoned, fragments of his essence began to leak into the mortal realm over the centuries. These fragments manifested as vile creatures, demons and spirits that preyed upon the weaknesses of humanity, whispering dark promises into the ears of the power-hungry and the lost. Through these manifestations, Zynaroth found a way to influence the world once more, though not directly. He needed more—he needed those who could carry out his will, even in his absence."
Rayen's words reverberated through the dimly lit room as she finished telling the story to Afia and Laura.
Afia frowned. "I've never heard of him."
"His story is not well known," Rayen continued, "because the gods have buried it along with him. They don't want humanity to know of their failure, of the evil they let slip through their fingers. But those of us with the gift—we can sense his influence, his whispers. And now, he seeks to break free once again."
Afia leaned forward, her face tense. "If Zynaroth is truly this powerful, why gather us? What can we possibly do against a demi-god turn evil?"
Rayen's eyes hardened. "It's not him we fight, not yet. It's his agents, his loyal servants that wander this world. He is still weak, trapped in Nyalkabia. But if his followers grow too strong, if they succeed in breaking his prison, then none of us—none of this—will survive."
Laura, still shaken from the story, spoke next. "So… we're supposed to stop a god from returning to our world? Using our 'cursed' gifts?"
Rayen met her gaze. "Yes. And if we fail…"
She didn't finish her sentence. The silence spoke loud enough.
The room, once again bathed in its familiar low light, felt colder.
Afia leaned back, her expression unreadable. "I have no objection as long as you promise to help me in return"
Laura scoffed, pushing her chair back, clearly done with the entire conversation. "I can't believe I came all the way here for this nonsense."
Rayen didn't flinch. "One million each. Ten million, if you complete the mission."
Laura paused, halfway to the door. She turned, her eyes narrowing in calculation. "Ten million, huh? Well... I suppose I can stick around for a while."
The night wasn't over yet.
In minutes, Laura and Afia found themselves outside the dimly lit meeting room, their footsteps muffled as they followed Luke Baxter through the towering halls of the Moireal building. Luke, ever the performer, led them on a tour, but neither woman seemed particularly interested in his eager explanations. The building's silence felt more alive than Luke's voice, as if it were listening, waiting.
Behind them, Rayen and Leonce remained, the air in the room thick with unspoken plans.
Rayen's phone buzzed softly, breaking the silence. She lifted it to her ear. "Hello?"
"It's me, Eula." The voice on the other end was calm, resolute.
Rayen's lips curled into a smile, her gaze flickering with a knowing glint. "I've been expecting you."
"I've considered what you said," Eula's voice continued. "I'll be there by tonight."
The line went dead, and Rayen lowered the phone, her smile lingering as the shadows in the room seemed to stretch a little longer.
---
As night fell, Eula Fujioka's plane touched down in Wyoming. The stars overhead were faint, hidden by a blanket of clouds, but the pull of Moireal guided her.
Before long, she stood at the entrance of the building. Rayen was there, waiting, Leonce by her side. No words were exchanged as they led her deeper into the labyrinthine halls. The sense of something greater than her, something just beyond her understanding, flickered in the corners of her vision.
They arrived at a set of doors. Rayen pushed them open, revealing a common area where Laura sat, half-heartedly chewing a piece of Hawaiian pizza, while Afia reclined on the couch, headphones over her ears, her eyes closed.
Luke shot up from his seat, throwing his arms wide in exaggerated enthusiasm. "Rayen! I missed you so much!" He made a playful dash toward her, only for Leonce's hand to block his path effortlessly.
Rayen's expression remained composed as she regarded the group. "I imagine the trip has worn you out," she said, her voice calm but commanding.
Laura, her mouth still full of pizza, muttered, "You're just noticing?" before wiping the crumbs on her jeans.
Rayen turned her chair and began moving toward the elevator. "Follow me."
Leonce pushed her wheelchair forward, and the group, now joined by Eula, followed in a tense silence.
The elevator descended with a soft hum, its glow casting faint reflections against the metallic walls. As the group reached the ground floor, a subtle *ding* announced their arrival. The doors slid open, revealing the grand marble-floored lobby of the Moireal building. Rayen rolled forward, Leonce close behind her, but just as they neared the entrance, she stopped abruptly.
Laura, confused, tilted her head. "Ummm, may I ask? Why are we stopping here? You don't mean... we're supposed to sleep here at the entrance?" She cast a glance at the pristine, gleaming floor beneath her feet. "I mean, I wouldn't mind... the floor looks clean as hell and shiny too."
Rayen turned her wheelchair slightly, a soft, cryptic smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Look closely."
Laura furrowed her brow, glancing back at the entrance where she'd earlier seen the outdoor fountains, the manicured gardens, and the grand exterior of the building. But now, what greeted her eyes was something entirely different.It has slowly merged into something else. The walls of glass that once revealed the outside world now reflected an entirely foreign—a vast, opulent mansion. The exit doors led not to the familiar world outside but to a place drenched in soft, golden light. The air shimmered as if the boundaries of reality were thinning.
The transformation was surreal—an ethereal mansion where the fountains once stood, its grandeur far surpassing what they had seen before. The floors were marble, like those of an ancient palace, and tapestries and chandeliers lined the halls, exuding elegance and an almost dreamlike quality.
Laura's eyes widened, a smile breaking across her face as she stepped forward, pushing the doors open in awe. "This—this is heaven!" She practically ran to the oversized sofa in the center of the grand hall, throwing herself onto it with a delighted sigh. "Even the sofa smells nice... I'm not dreaming, am I?" she asked, her voice giddy, as she sprawled across the luxurious cushions.
"There are five rooms. Pick whichever one suits you."
Afia, still standing at the threshold, arms crossed, narrowed her eyes. "This place... it's hidden. Why?"
Rayen's smile softened but carried an edge of mystery. "For safety, of course. This mansion exists outside of the normal world. It's connected to the building, but hidden from all eyes. A sanctuary, if you will."
Laura sat up, still in a daze from the beauty of the place, but something gnawed at her curiosity. "And how do we... leave? If it's hidden?"
Rayen's gaze flickered toward her, steady and calm. "Simply walk out. But tread lightly. Not everyone in Moireal knows of this place, and the fewer who do, the better. Most who work here are trusted, but discretion will keep you safest."
Laura gave a small nod, glancing around at the mansion with a mix of awe and trepidation. She could feel it—this place was more than a sanctuary. It was a gateway, a space between realities, a threshold to the unknown.
As Rayen finished explaining, she turned to head back toward the elevator. Afia, watching her leave, frowned slightly. "You're not staying here with us?"
Rayen paused and looked back, her enigmatic smile returning. "No. My place is elsewhere. But worry not—I'm never far."
Soon, Rayen,Luke and Leonce were gone, leaving the three women alone in the vast mansion. Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog.
Laura cleared her throat, awkwardly breaking the quiet. "So... I'm Laura Ercilia," she said, her voice lighter than before, though tension still lingered behind it.
Afia,offering a small nod. "Afia Akachi."
Eula stepped forward, her eyes sharp but calm. "Eula Fujioka."
Laura scratched at her gloved hand, her expression uneasy. "I guess... none of us are normal, huh? I can see memories... when I touch people. It's... why I wear these gloves." She glanced down, her voice quiet but filled with a strange pride. "What about you guys?"
Afia looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Sound. I can hear everything—your heartbeat, even." Her gaze flicked toward Laura's gloves.
"Luke mentioned you could manipulate people with sound. Is that true?"
Afia's brow furrowed slightly. "He said that?"
Laura gave a sheepish grin. "I may have... glanced at your file."
Afia shot her a half-amused, half-annoyed look but said nothing, turning to Eula instead. "What about you?"
Eula's gaze darkened. "I can possess things—people, objects—and I can read their memories. But anything can possess me, too." Her voice was calm as ever.
Eula moved toward the stairs. "I'll take the upstairs room. Good night." Without another word, she disappeared into the shadows of the upper floor.
The room fell into silence once again, the only sound the distant hum of the mansion.
Laura shifted uncomfortably. "I... I think I'll head up too," she mumbled, making her way upstairs.
Afia sighed, leaning back against the couch. The mansion felt too quiet, too still. The air buzzed with unseen energy, thick and charged.
With a final glance, Afia headed toward one of the rooms downstairs, the subtle hum of the mansion seeming to grow louder in the silence.