The hum of the hovercraft's engines was a low, steady drone that filled the silence inside the cabin. Sylas sat stiffly on one of the sleek, leather seats, his sister Ana huddled close to him. Across from them, their parents sat with equally tense expressions. No one spoke. There wasn't much to say—at least, not here, under the watchful eyes of the armed security personnel seated at the back of the craft.
Through the tinted windows, Sylas caught glimpses of the cityscape below. Arcis stretched out beneath them, a patchwork of gleaming skyscrapers and decaying slums. The hovercraft rose higher, and the disparity between the affluent inner districts and the poverty-ridden outskirts became even more glaring.
Sylas clenched his fists, anger simmering just beneath the surface. For as long as he could remember, the Browns had ruled over Arcis like gods, their wealth and power untouchable. The rest of them—people like Sylas and his family—were left to scavenge, scrape by, and survive.
And now, for reasons unknown, the Browns had summoned them.
Sylas glanced at the bronze tablet the woman had handed him. Its surface was blank now, the strange glowing text gone. He'd never seen technology like it before. Even the wealthiest merchants in the slums couldn't afford something this advanced.
"What do you think they want with us?" Ana's voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet cabin, it sounded almost loud.
"I don't know," Sylas admitted, keeping his voice low. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But whatever it is, we'll handle it. Together."
Ana nodded, though her expression remained uncertain. She was brave, far braver than most kids her age, but even she couldn't hide her fear entirely.
The hovercraft began to descend, and Sylas felt a lurch in his stomach as it tilted slightly. They were approaching the heart of the city now, where the Browns' estate loomed like a fortress.
It came into view suddenly—a sprawling compound surrounded by high walls and shimmering energy barriers. The estate was a stark contrast to the rest of Arcis, its pristine architecture gleaming under the artificial sunlight generated by the Browns' personal weather systems.
The hovercraft landed smoothly on a private platform. The doors slid open with a hiss, and the woman in the black suit gestured for them to exit.
"Welcome to the Browns Estate," she said, her tone as cold as ever.
Sylas stepped out first, his senses immediately overwhelmed. The air here was clean and crisp, free of the smog and grime that clung to the outskirts. The ground beneath his feet was polished marble, and the gardens surrounding the landing pad were meticulously maintained, filled with exotic plants he couldn't name.
"This way," the woman instructed, leading them toward the main building.
The estate's entrance was a towering set of double doors, each carved from what appeared to be solid bronze. As they approached, the doors swung open silently, revealing an opulent interior that was almost blinding in its extravagance.
Sylas barely had time to take it all in—the vaulted ceilings, the intricate mosaics, the chandeliers that seemed to be made of pure light—before they were ushered into a large hall.
The hall was filled with people, most of them dressed in fine clothing that made Sylas's threadbare jacket and patched pants feel like rags in comparison. Some were standing in small groups, speaking in hushed tones, while others sat on the plush chairs that lined the room's edges.
At the center of the hall, suspended in mid-air, was a massive bronze cube. It was unlike anything Sylas had ever seen. The cube floated silently, its edges glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. Strange symbols shimmered across its surface, shifting and changing as if alive.
Sylas felt a strange pull toward it, an almost magnetic force that made his chest tighten.
"What is that?" Ana whispered, clutching his arm.
"I don't know," Sylas said, his voice barely audible.
A man stepped forward onto a raised platform at the front of the hall. Sylas recognized him immediately—Nathaniel Brown, the patriarch of the family. His presence was commanding, his tailored suit and calm demeanor exuding authority.
Nathaniel raised a hand, and the murmurs in the hall ceased instantly.
"Welcome," he began, his voice smooth and measured. "You have all been summoned here because you are part of a moment that will define humanity's future. For centuries, my family has safeguarded secrets and technologies far beyond the comprehension of the masses. The [Bronze City Stele],"—he gestured to the floating cube—"is the culmination of those efforts."
Sylas exchanged a glance with Ana. The name meant nothing to him, but the way Nathaniel spoke it sent a chill down his spine.
Nathaniel continued, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. "The Stele is not just a relic. It is a gateway, a test, and a path to something greater. Those who are deemed worthy by the Stele will be given the opportunity to ascend—to surpass the limitations of the human condition and become something more."
The crowd buzzed with whispers, but Nathaniel silenced them with a raised hand.
"However," he said, his tone growing colder, "not everyone will be chosen. The Stele is selective, and the Trial it presents is unforgiving. Only the strongest, the smartest, and the most resilient will succeed. The rest will…" He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air. "…fail."
Sylas felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. He didn't like the sound of this.
Nathaniel's gaze landed on him briefly, and Sylas felt as if the man could see right through him.
"The Trial begins when the Stele activates," Nathaniel said, gesturing to a glowing countdown hovering beside the cube. [Time to Activation: 04:13:38]
"Until then, prepare yourselves," he continued. "Observe. Learn. And remember—those who fail the Trial have no place in the future we are building."
With that, Nathaniel stepped down from the platform, and the room erupted into hushed conversations.
Sylas's mother gripped his father's arm tightly, her expression a mixture of fear and confusion. "What have they dragged us into?" she murmured.
"I don't know," his father replied, his voice grim. "But we need to stay together. Whatever happens, we face it as a family."
Sylas nodded, but his attention was drawn back to the Stele. It pulsed faintly, the light growing stronger for a moment before dimming again.
As he stared at it, a strange feeling crept over him—like the cube was watching him, waiting for something.
The countdown ticked on, and Sylas couldn't shake the feeling that the Stele held more than just answers. It held his fate.