The tires hummed against the cracked asphalt, a low, steady rhythm that echoed through the silence of the car. Nico sat in the back seat, his forehead pressed against the cool glass window, watching the trees blur into shadows. The forest ahead was thick and impenetrable, a wall of blackness that swallowed the last remnants of city light. It was nighttime, and the road they traveled seemed to stretch endlessly into the unknown.
His mother, Elena Marlowe, sat quietly in the passenger seat, her hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed forward. His younger sister, Lila, had long since fallen asleep, her head resting against Nico's shoulder. Their father, Gabriel Marlowe, gripped the steering wheel with quiet determination, the headlights casting narrow beams into the dark, revealing only fleeting glimpses of twisted branches and fog.
They had been driving for nearly thirty minutes now, deeper and deeper into the forest. The GPS had stopped working ten minutes ago, and cell signals had vanished even earlier. Yet his father hadn't hesitated. He seemed to know where he was going, or at least believed he did.
"Are we close?" Nico asked, breaking the silence.
His father didn't answer immediately. Then, with a glance at the rearview mirror, he said, "Almost. Just a little further."
The road narrowed, and the trees leaned in closer, their limbs clawing at the sky. Then, without warning, the car slowed. Up ahead, a figure stood in the middle of the road, holding a torch that flickered with golden flame.
Nico's father stopped the car and stepped out, leaving the door ajar. The man with the torch didn't move. He was tall, cloaked in a long robe that shimmered faintly in the firelight. His face was obscured by a hood, but Nico could see the glint of eyes beneath it—watchful, ancient.
"Evening," his father said cautiously. "We're looking for the passage."
The man raised the torch slightly, then pointed it toward the forest. As he did, a strange thing happened. A ray of light, thin and sharp as a blade, pierced the darkness. It grew rapidly, widening into a glowing path that cut through the trees like a tunnel of sunlight. The forest around it remained pitch black, but the path itself shimmered with golden warmth.
Nico squinted, shielding his eyes. The light was blinding, unnatural. It didn't flicker like fire or glow like moonlight—it radiated, pulsed, as if alive.
His father turned back to the car, climbed in, and without a word, began driving toward the light.
"Dad?" Nico asked, blinking rapidly. "What is that?"
"Just hold on," his father replied. "We're almost there."
As the car entered the ray of light, Nico felt a strange sensation wash over him. The air grew warmer, fragrant with salt and sea breeze. The blinding brightness made it impossible to see anything beyond the windshield. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity.
The smell of the sea grew stronger. He could hear waves now, distant but rhythmic, crashing against a shore. The car slowed, then stopped.
When Nico opened his eyes, the world had changed.
Gone was the forest, the night, the torch-bearing stranger. In their place was a beach bathed in sunlight. The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with wisps of white clouds. The sand beneath the car was golden and warm, stretching out toward a sparkling ocean that shimmered like liquid crystal.
Nico stepped out of the car, blinking in disbelief. The transition had been instantaneous, surreal. One moment they were in a dark forest, the next they were standing on a beach that looked like it belonged to another world.
His mother gasped softly, shielding her eyes. Lila stirred, then sat up, her mouth falling open.
"Where are we?" Nico asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
His father didn't answer. He stood at the edge of the beach, staring out at the horizon, as if searching for something.
The light that had guided them was gone now, replaced by the natural brilliance of the sun. But the feeling it left behind lingered—an aura of magic, of mystery.
Nico turned slowly, taking in the scene. The beach was empty, pristine, its fine white sand soft and pure as freshly fallen snow. Semi-big waves rolled steadily onto the shore, their rhythmic crash the only sound in the stillness. No footprints marred the sand, and no animals stirred nearby, leaving the scene untouched and silent.
His father finally spoke. "We've crossed the veil. This is where it begins."
Nico looked at him, confused. "Begins? What begins?"
His father turned, eyes serious. "The journey. The powers. Everything I've told you about. It's real. And now, it's time for you to see it for yourself."
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of salt and something else—something ancient. Nico felt a chill despite the warmth of the sun.
He didn't know what lay ahead, but he knew one thing for certain: the world he had known was gone. And whatever this place was, it held secrets that would change everything.
The veil had lifted.
The man holding the torch stepped forward reappearing on the sunlit beach in front of Marlowe's family.
Nico blinked, shielding his eyes from the brightness. The man was middle-aged, perhaps in his forties, with brown skin that gleamed under the clear sky. He now wore a clean, tailored suit, his face freshly shaven except for a well-groomed mustache that added an air of distinction. His physique was clearly in shape, a stark contrast to the wild surroundings.
Nico, along with his entire family except for his father Gabriel Marlowe, was shocked to see the man floating effortlessly, standing before them as if gravity held no sway.
"I welcome you," the man said, his voice calm but commanding. "I am Arion Valerian Zenith, the Sovereign of Space. I look forward to your contribution to this place."
Gabriel Marlowe stepped forward, extending his hand. Arion lowered himself to meet the handshake, their hands clasping firmly as he hovered.
While Arion is giving instructions and documents Gabriel and his family needed about this place, Nico's attention drifted to the surroundings. The fine white sand beneath his feet felt soft and warm, a stark contrast to the intimidating roar of the waves to his west. Though the ocean's swell was far from a tsunami, the sound of crashing waves made him unsettled—he had never learned to swim thus it filled him with unease.
To his east, a dense forest of coconut palm trees stretched out like a living wall, their tall, slender trunks swaying gently in the breeze. The canopy formed a thick, green swarm that seemed to guard the other side of the beach, casting shifting shadows on the sand.
Yet, beyond the physical landscape, Nico sensed something far more unsettling. The gaze he had felt before at his home—the feeling of being watched—was here, magnified a thousandfold. It was as if the sands beneath him held countless eyes, the blue sky above mirrored his every move, and even the direction of the roaring waves and the swaying palms seemed to observe him with silent intent.
He felt like the center of a packed stadium, every gaze fixed upon him. A shiver ran down his spine as he scanned every direction, searching for the source of this overwhelming scrutiny, but found only the endless expanse of beach, sea, and forest.
The weight of unseen eyes pressed down on him, a silent reminder that in this place, nothing was as simple as it seemed.
The man holding the torch stepped forward, his figure dissolving into the shimmering light before reappearing on the sunlit beach.
Nico blinked, shielding his eyes from the brightness. The man was middle-aged, perhaps in his forties, with brown skin that gleamed under the clear sky. He wore a clean, tailored suit, his face freshly shaven except for a well-groomed mustache that added an air of distinction. His physique was clearly in shape, a stark contrast to the wild surroundings.
Nico, along with his entire family except for his father Gabriel Marlowe, was shocked to see the man floating effortlessly, standing before them as if gravity held no sway.
"I welcome you," the man said, his voice calm but commanding. "I am Arion Valerian Zenith, the Sovereign of Space. I look forward to your contribution to this place."
Gabriel Marlowe stepped forward, extending his hand. Arion lowered himself to meet the handshake, their hands clasping firmly as he hovered.
While Arion is giving instructions and documents Gabriel and his family needed about this place, Nico's attention drifted to the surroundings. The fine white sand beneath his feet felt soft and warm, a stark contrast to the intimidating roar of the waves to his west. Though the ocean's swell was far from a tsunami, the sheer power of the water unsettled him—he had never learned to swim, and the waves of the sea filled him with unease.
To his east, a dense forest of coconut palm trees stretched out like a living wall, their tall, slender trunks swaying gently in the breeze. The canopy formed a thick, green swarm that seemed to guard the other side of the beach, casting shifting shadows on the sand.
Yet, beyond the physical landscape, Nico sensed something far more unsettling. The gaze he had felt before at his home—the feeling of being watched—was here, magnified a thousandfold. It was as if the sands beneath him held countless eyes, the blue sky above mirrored his every move, and even the direction of the roaring waves and the swaying palms seemed to observe him with silent intent.
He felt like the center of a packed stadium, every gaze fixed upon him. A shiver ran down his spine as he scanned every direction, searching for the source of this overwhelming scrutiny, but found only the endless expanse of beach, sea, and forest.
The weight of unseen eyes pressed down on him, a silent reminder that in this place, nothing was as simple as it seemed.