The air in Abranta crackled with excitement, the city alive with the vibrant hum of celebration. Streets that were usually pristine and orderly now bustled with energy, adorned with colorful banners and shimmering lights that danced like fireflies. Stalls lined the cobbled pathways, offering exotic foods and strange trinkets from every corner of the world. Music poured from every alley and square, an intoxicating mix of traditional melodies and the rhythmic beat of drums that echoed through the city.
Amelia and her siblings wove their way through the crowd, their eyes wide with wonder. This was no ordinary festival—it was a celebration of the city's greatest pride: the Spectercores. Prestigious guilds that shaped the course of nations, each Spectercore had come to display their unmatched martial arts and anomalyte prowess. Grand stages rose at every turn, surrounded by eager onlookers. The children stopped at one such platform, where a Spectercore member clad in flowing obsidian robes stepped forward.
With a single movement, the warrior spun, summoning a torrent of water that twisted and turned in the air, transforming into a shimmering serpent that coiled protectively around him. His movements were fluid, each strike of his fists sending bursts of water lashing out with precision. The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers mingling with the thundering of drums.
Amelia's heart raced as she watched, her hands clenched in excitement. "One day," she whispered, almost to herself, "we'll be up there. We'll be stronger than any of them."
Gavin smirked, his eyes alight with challenge. "Stronger? Count me in. I'd love to see their faces when they can't handle a bit of flame."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Nola said, ever the voice of reason, though a small smile played at her lips. "It's not just about power. We'd need discipline. Strategy. Trust."
Leo, leaning casually against a lamppost, nodded. "She's right. Besides, it's not all glory and stage shows. These people carry heavy burdens."
"Yeah, but wouldn't it be worth it?" With a playful gleam in his eyes, Ronan continued. "We could start our own Spectercore. One that actually makes a difference for people who need it. Not just showing off."
Amelia turned to face them, her eyes blazing with determination. "Exactly. We could build something that really matters. Something for everyone—especially those who have it worse than we do."
There was a moment of silence as the weight of her words sank in. Then, without hesitation, Amelia extended her hand, palm up. One by one, the others placed their hands on top of hers—Ronan grinning mischievously, Nola with a thoughtful nod, Gavin rolling his eyes but joining nonetheless, and Leo with a lazy, relaxed smile.
Together, they raised their hands, a silent pact made under the bright lights of the festival. It was a gesture full of hope, dreams, and promises for a better future.
Nachtan stood a little behind them, having lingered to admire a display of intricate clockwork animals powered by anomalyte energy. He heard every word, and a soft, wistful smile crossed his lips. He hesitated, unsure if he should approach, but lifted his hand in silent mimicry of the handshake. Even if he was always a step behind, he was part of this family.
A burst of fireworks exploded overhead, bathing the city in a cascade of colors. The light reflected in their eyes, making everything feel just a little more magical, a little more possible. They were just children with a dream now, but perhaps, one day, they could make it real.
The siblings continued wandering through the festival, marveling at the various displays and performances. Brightly colored stalls offered games and challenges, and the crowd's energy was infectious. It wasn't long before they stumbled upon a particularly popular attraction: a large, gleaming machine with intricate markings and a faint, pulsing glow. Above it, a sign read:
"Anomalyte Power Level Challenge! Test Your Power and Win!"
Next to the machine stood a mannequin draped in a stunning outfit—a unique combination of a black, scarfed coat with an intricate design that seemed to shimmer under the lights. The fabric looked almost alive, shifting as if it held a power of its own. The coat had an aura of prestige, and its allure was undeniable.
Nachtan's eyes widened. He could already imagine himself wearing it, feeling a sliver of confidence in the imagined fabric's embrace. He swallowed hard and stepped forward, his heart pounding. He placed his hand against the machine, feeling its cold surface vibrate with latent energy. He took a deep breath and punched, channeling every ounce of strength he had.
The machine barely registered a dent. The numbers on the display flickered, stopping at a score so low it drew a few chuckles from the crowd. Nachtan felt a pit form in his stomach. Before he could turn away, Gavin's mocking laughter rang out. "Well, that was... impressive. You planning to fight off a fly next?"
Nachtan clenched his fists, shame burning in his cheeks. But it got worse. An older man, burly and covered in scars, sauntered over with a sneer. "Outta the way, kid. Leave it to the real contenders." He stepped up to the machine, flexed his shoulders, and delivered a punch that cracked with energy. The machine's display soared, numbers shooting up to a new record. The crowd cheered, impressed.
"See that?" the man jeered, shooting a glance at Nachtan. "That's how it's done."
Nachtan lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of humiliation settle over him. But before he could walk away, Gavin's eyes blazed. He stepped forward, pushing past the bystanders. "Move over, old man. Time to show you who's really in charge."
The crowd watched with eager anticipation as Gavin unleashed his power, flames briefly flickering around his fist as he struck. The machine rattled, and the numbers climbed high—impressive, but not enough to beat the record. Gavin's jaw tightened, and the older man smirked. "Nice try, kid. Better luck next—"
Before he could finish, Amelia stepped forward. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes cold. She placed her hand on the machine, inhaling deeply. Sparks of energy danced along her skin, her anomalyte vibrating with life. "You think strength is just about numbers?" she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. She pulled back her fist and, with a roar, punched the machine.
The impact resonated through the ground, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, with a deafening crack, the machine's display shattered. Sparks flew, and the glow faded as the internal mechanisms failed. The once-indestructible machine lay broken, a testament to the sheer force of her blow.
The crowd erupted into gasps and murmurs. Some stepped back, wary of what they'd just witnessed. Others stared in awe, unable to believe what they'd seen. The older man's smug expression had vanished, replaced with stunned disbelief.
Amelia turned to Nachtan, her face softening. She picked up the scarfed coat, which had been awarded automatically despite the broken display, and held it out to him. "Here," she said, her voice firm but kind. "You earned this, too."
Nachtan hesitated, but when he took the coat, his hands trembled slightly. "Thank you," he whispered, a small smile breaking through his earlier shame.
Nola, however, crossed her arms, her expression clouded with worry. "We weren't supposed to draw attention," she said, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. "Silas and Elora were clear about that. And now half of Abranta just saw you destroy a supposedly indestructible machine."
Amelia shrugged, unfazed. "They can deal with it."
"Still," Nola pressed, "we need to keep a low profile." She glanced around, noting the curious eyes still on them. "Let's move."
The siblings walked on, trying to blend back into the festival's chaos, their footsteps quick but their spirits slightly lighter. Nachtan examined the scarfed coat, his fingers brushing over the intricate fabric, but it was clearly too large for him. Ronan grinned, clapping him on the back. "Guess you'll have to wait a few years to grow into it," he teased lightly. "Store it away for when you're older. It'll suit you then."
Nachtan nodded, folding the coat carefully and tucking it under his arm. He cast one last glance at it, feeling a mix of pride and longing, before turning his attention back to the festival. Together, they moved forward, the lights of Abranta twinkling above them, each step carrying a mix of hope and uncertainty into the night.
The festival's glow began to dim as vendors packed away their wares and performers took their final bows. The air was thick with the scent of roasted food and smoke from fading fireworks, giving the city a dreamlike quality. As the siblings prepared to head home, Nachtan lingered at the edge of the crowd, admiring the last flickers of light in the sky.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something strange—a group of shadowy, masked figures slipping into a dimly lit building across the street. They moved with silent precision; their movements were practiced and careful. It was clear they were not festivalgoers. Amelia's eyes caught the movement next, her expression hardening.
"Did you see that?" She whispered, her gaze never leaving the building. "They're up to something. We should follow them."
Nola immediately shook her head, her voice firm. "No, Amelia. Whatever they're doing, it's not our problem. We're going home."
Amelia's jaw clenched. "So, we just let them do whatever it is they're planning? Are you serious?"
"Yes," Nola replied, crossing her arms. "We're not heroes, Amelia. This is exactly what Silas and Elora warned us about—staying out of trouble."
The others watched in tense silence as the two sisters squared off. Amelia's temper flared, her ego refusing to back down. "You're just afraid," she said, her voice low and challenging. "Afraid to actually do something."
Nola didn't flinch. "No, I'm thinking ahead. If we get involved and things go wrong, it'll be on us. We can't afford that."
The two glared at each other for a long moment. The weight of authority and pride hung heavy between them, and for once, Amelia found herself unable to argue. She turned away with a frustrated growl. "Fine," she spat. "Let's just go home."
The siblings began to move, their footsteps slow and reluctant. But for Amelia, the sting of being dismissed, of feeling powerless, gnawed at her insides. Her chest burned with anger, and her pride was a roaring fire. She couldn't let it end like this.
Without warning, she bolted, a blur of speed as she raced toward the building. "Amelia!" Nola shouted, but it was too late. The others exchanged wide-eyed glances before chasing after her.
Amelia slipped inside, her breath steady and her pulse pounding. The interior of the building was dark, its corridors narrow and lined with shelves of unfamiliar equipment. The air smelled of chemicals and burned metal—a lab, she realized. Temporary, but well-hidden. She moved silently, her footsteps muffled against the floor, until she caught sight of the masked figures ahead.
They were speaking in hushed tones, their words indistinct but their intent clear. One of them held a small, glowing device—its light pulsing rhythmically, like the heartbeat of something dangerous. Amelia narrowed her eyes, creeping closer.
But suddenly, the figures turned to each other, nodding in silent agreement. In unison, they moved to the center of the lab and placed the glowing device on a platform. One of them pressed a button, and a low sound filled the room—a sound that made Amelia's skin crawl.
Just as she realized what it was, the figures stepped back. One of them raised a hand and traced a shimmering line in the air. A portal opened, swirling with energy. Without hesitation, the masked group stepped through, vanishing from sight. The portal snapped shut behind them, leaving only silence and the ominous glow of the device.
Amelia's breath caught in her throat. She turned, finding her siblings crouched behind her, their faces pale. "What did you do?" Nola whispered, her voice a mix of fear and anger.
Amelia didn't have an answer. The bomb's glow intensified, casting long, sinister shadows across the lab.