The streets of Eden glittered beneath the early morning light, perfect and gleaming as always. The soldier, Jaron, strode through them with the confident steps of someone who belonged. He had been back home only a day, and already the energy of the city was seeping back into him. Eden was unlike any place he had ever known, and after spending months fighting the Dothraki on the brutal plains of Essos, there was a part of him that was relieved to be back. But at the same time, he couldn't shake the restlessness—he had grown addicted to the thrill of combat, the adrenaline of battle. And now, he was being reassigned to something completely different.
TTOS.
No one knew exactly what it stood for or what its purpose was. The secrecy surrounding the department only heightened his curiosity. He had heard whispers among other soldiers, speculations about dark magic and the occult. But as far as he knew, TTOS was a new branch, and only a select few had been chosen to be a part of it. It wasn't the kind of assignment you turned down, though. When orders came from above, especially from Eden's Supreme Leader, you followed them without question.
As Jaron made his way through the Second Ring, he couldn't help but admire the luxury around him. His own penthouse in the First Ring, a reward for years of service and some fortunate investments, had always been a mark of pride. Soldiers in Eden didn't usually live like that. Most couldn't even dream of affording such luxuries, but Jaron had been shrewd and lucky. He had grown accustomed to the comfort of Eden, the security, the perfection. Still, part of him missed the raw energy of the battlefield, the chaos, the life-or-death stakes. He was about to find out if TTOS would satisfy that need.
He stopped in front of an unassuming building, its gray stone façade blending in with the rest of the Second Ring. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought it was just another government office. No insignia, no markings, nothing to distinguish it from the others. He stepped inside and was greeted by a single receptionist seated behind a sleek, glass desk in an empty front office.
"Name and purpose?" she asked in a monotone voice without looking up.
"Jaron Kaltos, Seeker division. I'm here for the TTOS assignment."
She glanced at her screen, tapped a few keys, then nodded. "Hold tight."
Before Jaron could ask what that meant, the floor beneath him began to descend like an elevator. The shift was so sudden he had to brace himself as the entire reception area sank into the ground. His heartbeat quickened. This was no ordinary government office. When the floor finally came to a halt, the walls around him parted, revealing a long, dark hallway. A soldier in a sleek black uniform stood waiting for him.
"Follow me," the soldier said, his voice clipped and professional.
Jaron obeyed without question, his instincts as a Seeker soldier kicking in. They walked through the dimly lit corridor until they reached a large room, already filled with people. Most were soldiers like himself, though there were a few scientists scattered among them, their white lab coats standing out starkly in the sea of military attire.
He found an empty seat and took it, glancing around. The air was thick with anticipation. Whatever TTOS was, it was big. No one spoke as they waited, the tension palpable. After a few moments, the lights dimmed, and a projector clicked on. A symbol flashed on the screen—a dark, intricate crest that sent a shiver down Jaron's spine.
An old man entered the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. He was dressed in simple, unadorned robes, but his posture and the way he carried himself made it clear he was someone of great importance.
"Welcome," the man said, his voice deep and gravelly. "I am Doctor Ansar, Head of the Thule Occult Society, or as you will come to know it, TTOS."
The room remained silent, but Jaron could feel the undercurrent of curiosity and unease rippling through the assembled soldiers and scientists.
"The Thule Occult Society began as a collection of scholars and mystics, individuals fascinated by the dark magical phenomena of this world," Ansar continued. "For years, we have studied the ancient and dangerous forces that exist in places like Asshai, the shadowed city. We have delved into the teachings of the priests and priestesses of R'hllor, explored the secrets of the extinct House of the Undying, and uncovered the terrifying truths behind the fish gods of Leng."
As he spoke, images flashed across the projector—haunting, unsettling images of places and beings that Jaron had only heard about in rumors. Asshai, with its twisted spires and constant gloom. The red temples of R'hllor, burning in the night. The crumbling ruins of the House of the Undying. And finally, the fish gods of Leng, strange, alien creatures worshipped by that far-off, mysterious people.
"But these were merely studies," Ansar said, his tone growing darker. "Observations. Until recently, the Thule Occult Society existed purely as a gathering of those with a fascination for the occult. That is, until the destruction of Slaver's Bay."
The projector flicked again, this time showing the charred remains of Slaver's Bay, the cities turned to dust by Eden's devastating power.
"The Supreme Leader, in his wisdom, saw that the world is not only ruled by men and armies, but by powers far older and far darker than any of us. When Qohor encased itself in an indestructible dome through sacrifices to its dark gods, we were reminded just how dangerous these forces can be."
The projector now displayed the black dome that covered the once-great city of Qohor, an ominous sight that sent a chill through the room.
"The Supreme Leader has expanded the Thule Occult Society," Ansar announced, "into a paramilitary organization tasked not only with the study of these forces but with the defense of Eden against the occult threats that may seek to hinder our great city's plans."
The weight of his words settled heavily over the room. Jaron sat still, his mind racing. Occult forces, ancient gods, magical phenomena—this was far beyond anything he had encountered on the battlefield. But it was clear that Eden was not invincible, not entirely. The occult posed a threat, one that Eden was taking seriously enough to establish this secretive organization.
"As of today," Ansar concluded, his sharp eyes scanning the room, "you are no longer mere soldiers or scientists. You are part of TTOS, the Thule Occult Society, charged with protecting Eden from threats that lurk in the shadows of this world. Congratulations, and welcome to the society."
Jaron felt a mix of emotions—pride, unease, and a flicker of excitement. This might not be the battlefield he was used to, but it would be no less dangerous. If anything, it sounded far more terrifying.
As the room began to empty and the other recruits left, Jaron lingered for a moment, staring at the black dome of Qohor still projected on the screen. Whatever came next, he knew one thing for certain: his life as a Seeker soldier had just taken a turn into the unknown.