The air in Eden buzzed with excitement. The long-awaited grand opening of Londonium was about to take place—a city rebuilt from the ashes of Slaver's Bay, now a beacon of Eden's power and progress. The entire upper class was flocking there for the week, eager to bask in the glory of their supreme leader's newest creation. And, somehow, he—a young man who had once lived in the dirt of the North—was part of it.
It still felt surreal. Just a few years ago, his family had been poor farmers, scraping a living from the frozen soil of the North. His daily routine had been waking up before dawn, hauling buckets of water from the nearest well, and praying to whatever gods were listening that their crops wouldn't freeze overnight. And now? Now, he lived in Eden, the shining jewel of the world, in a luxurious apartment where the only thing he had to worry about was which designer robe to wear to the grand opening.
It was wild how fast life could change. His parents had dragged him and his siblings to Eden after hearing the tales—of immortality, endless wealth, and happiness beyond comprehension. Well, happiness beyond comprehension if you had the right connections and enough money to buy it, of course. His family had been lucky; through some miracle of fate or clever scheming, they had risen in the ranks. Now, he was rubbing shoulders with Eden's richest and most influential.
Of course, he was still the new guy, the "self-made man" among his friends, which was essentially code for "the one who didn't grow up rich and has no idea what he's doing." But they liked having him around. He added a touch of diversity to their otherwise homogenous, painfully wealthy crowd. And he found them fascinating, in the same way one might find exotic animals at the zoo fascinating—he couldn't quite believe they were real, but they were definitely entertaining.
Today, they were all preparing to head to Londonium together. He had packed light—well, light by Eden's standards, which still meant three suitcases full of custom-tailored clothes and enough skincare products to last him through a small apocalypse. His friends were probably bringing twice as much. He could hear them outside, already chattering away about their plans for the week.
He joined them by the entrance, and they greeted him with a mixture of excitement and thinly veiled pity. "Ah, our country boy is ready!" Rook exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Rook was the self-proclaimed trendsetter of the group, always at the forefront of whatever bizarre fad was sweeping Eden's elite. Today, he was sporting a bright neon tunic with reflective patterns that made him look like a human disco ball. "You didn't forget to bring your ancient family heirlooms to sacrifice at the ceremony, did you?"
"Still working on it," he replied with a grin. "Might have to settle for a cursed turnip. It's all I've got left from the farm."
They all laughed, though he could tell Rook was genuinely considering whether a cursed turnip might be the next big trend. Eden's rich were constantly on the lookout for the next ridiculous thing to obsess over. It was how he had ended up spending last weekend at a party where half the guests brought along sick, dying dogs as accessories. That, apparently, was the latest craze—adopting the oldest, most decrepit dogs they could find. It was a twisted form of virtue-signaling, inspired by some famous influencer's tear-jerking social media post about her blind, toothless poodle.
"Empathy is in," Rook had said with a solemn nod, cradling his ancient chihuahua like it was a newborn baby. The poor thing could barely breathe, but that only made it trendier. He had watched in horrified amusement as they competed to see whose dog had the most severe medical condition. One guy's dog had only three legs, while another's was apparently deaf, blind, and had something that sounded like "canine dementia." It was like they were collecting the world's most unfortunate creatures just to show they cared.
Except, of course, they didn't care. Not really. They treated each other with love and loyalty within their bubble, but everyone outside of it—including foreigners—was met with a polite, detached coldness. The citizens of Eden were masters of indifference, a city full of sociopaths who had perfected the art of seeming compassionate while being anything but.
And then there was the whole occult obsession. Now that was next-level weird. Lately, it seemed like everyone in Eden's upper class was scrambling to collect cursed objects and supernatural artifacts, like they were Pokémon or something. His friends had taken it to a whole new level.
Rook, for instance, was particularly proud of his murder doll. Yes, a murder doll. It looked like something from a horror movie—stitched together with bits of fabric, a tiny knife clutched in its hand, its eyes unnervingly lifelike.
"Every night, it tries to kill me," Rook had said, beaming with pride. "It's supposed to come to life while I'm asleep and stab me in the heart. Isn't it adorable?"
"But... doesn't that, like, defeat the purpose of staying alive?" he had asked.
"Oh, don't worry. It's locked in this high-tech box that shocks it every time it moves. It tries so hard, but... it's just so dumb."
The doll had been electrocuted so many times that its tiny face was stuck in a permanent expression of rage. Poor little murder doll.
Then there was Elias, who had somehow acquired a living stone from Valyria. The thing was supposed to suck the life out of anyone who touched it. Naturally, Elias had locked it in bulletproof glass and surrounded it with lasers that sliced off tiny pieces of it every day.
"It's in constant pain," Elias had said with a grin. "By my calculations, it's going to suffer for a good hundred years before it turns to dust."
Eden's elite were nothing if not resourceful. Why merely kill a cursed object when you could torture it for a century?
The pièce de résistance, though, belonged to Anya, who had bought a living, breathing chimera from some sketchy black market dealer. The creature was housed in a massive underground glass enclosure, visible through the floor of her mansion's grand hall.
"Guests love it," she had told him with a gleam in her eye. "Nothing says 'I'm rich' like owning a beast from the ruins of Valyria."
It was a conversation piece, she had said. And a warning to anyone who thought they could one-up her.
He found all of this absurd, of course, but also darkly hilarious. Here he was, a former farmer's son, now living among these psychopaths and their cursed dolls and chimera collections. He supposed it was just another part of Eden's charm.
Now they were all heading to Londonium, the crown jewel of Eden's empire. Mark Lantrun, their supreme leader, would be there in person, and wherever he went, the fanatical upper class would follow. The man was worshipped like a god—literally. There were rumors that just being in his presence could reduce people to tears. Some said he could control the weather with his mind. Others claimed that flowers bloomed wherever he stepped. It was hard to separate fact from fiction when it came to Mark, but one thing was clear: the citizens of Eden adored him with an intensity that bordered on madness.
As they boarded the hovercraft that would take them to Londonium, Rook turned to him with a mischievous grin. "Do you think Mark will bless us with his divine presence?"
"I heard Clara is going to be there too," Elias added, his eyes widening. "Saint Clara herself. I bet she's even more impressive in person."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, if they start handing out immortality potions, let me know."
They all laughed, though he couldn't help but wonder if they were actually expecting something miraculous to happen.
As the craft lifted off, soaring over Eden's gleaming towers, he looked back at the city he had come to love and loathe in equal measure. It was strange to think how far he had come—from a life of mud and toil in the North to the dizzying heights of Eden's upper class. Now, they were off to witness the grand opening of a new city, built on the bones of an old world.
Whatever awaited them in Londonium, he was sure of one thing—it would be unforgettable. And probably insane. But that was Eden for you.
The future was bright, and as long as he kept up with the latest trends (cursed turnips, maybe?), he'd be just fine.