Making their way through the fields of flowers, Lucas and Gira bounced around on the cart, their eyes glued to the distant light show that grew more intense the closer they got. The old Pelamüs, Shredder, began to slow, his steps faltering as a low whimper escaped him. His body trembled, and the ends of his fluffy coat bristled, standing rigid. Lucas patted his old friend in silence, his gaze still drawn to the ripples of what could only be described as slow-motion lightning. The jagged arcs cracked the horizon with grace, twisting and curling around the massive floating bubbles of water that reflected the ominous light from the forest below. The surreal display cast an ethereal glow over the landscape. The flowers below glowed and pulsed in response, their colors shifting in a sea of vibrant, chimeric essence as the strange, electrifying spectacle unfolded above them.

  “Lucas, how long till we get to the forest?” Gira asked abruptly, causing Lucas to flinch.

  “By the Symbols, I forgot you were even here!” Lucas snapped. “Also, we’re not going to the forest! Are you insane?”

  “Sheesh, we’re not—why not?”

  “Because there’s clearly some kind of abyssal thing going on.” Lucas said, pointing at the creepy sky.

  “So—? It looks awesome.”

  Lucas’s eye twitched in annoyance. “It’s obviously evil and dangerous!” he shouted.

  Gira clicked his tongue, laying back down on the now empty cart. “Man…then where are we going?” he asked, his excitement fading.

  “We’re heading to Trant Station. They might not know where my dad is, but with this—” Lucas pulled out a small electronic device, its faint blue light flickering—“I can help them find him.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a tracker,” Lucas explained, holding it up for Gira to see. “It uses the Vivant Tower as a signal booster. My dad uses it to keep tabs on all his stuff—and Shredder, in case he runs off.”

  “Ohh, does your dad also have one of these fluffy guys lugging him around too?”

  Lucas shot Gira a glare. “Shredder isn’t ‘lugging’ me around. He’s transporting me out of the kindness of his heart.” He said, leaning down to pat Shredder. “My dad drives around a thing called a car. ” He said, waving his hand as if telling a mystical tale.

  “What the hecks a car?” Gira asked, poking Lucas in the arm.

  Lucas turned, swatting his hand away. “It’s a four-wheeled transportation device that runs on hydrogen. My dad built it himself.”

  “What’s Hydrogen?”

  “Hmm—I walked right into that one, huh.” Lucas sighed, trying to think of a short, concise description. “It’s… uh, like food for the car.”

  “Ohhhh, that makes sense. So its fuel the vehicle runs on?” Gira replied nonchalantly.

  "Wait, you understoo—?”

  “Anyway,” Gira interrupted the shocked Lucas. “How much longer?”

  “Uhh—maybe 15 minutes or so,” Lucas replied, his tone more stern as he stared at the ominous aurora.

  “Ugh…” Gira groaned.

  The cart steadily made its way across the landscape, the clouds above casting splotchy shadows that danced over the unnaturally glowing flowers. The air grew colder as they neared the forest, a biting chill that seeped into their bones. Their only guide through the dimming light was the towering structure ahead, silhouetted against the pink aurora. They steadily progressed, passing the tower until they reached the apex of a hill, which offered a clear view of both Mount Cau and the looming forest. Near the forest edge ahead, a flicker of amber light stood out starkly against the ominous pink that dominated the horizon.

  The bliss of the night began to fade, even for Gira, as the abyss condensed itself around them. Gira, usually so captivated by the world around him, felt the change. The excitement that once danced in his eyes faded, replaced by a quiet, almost mournful stillness. In the lull, echoes of forlorn memories stirred—fragmented images of faces, places, and long-lost mementos of lives he could barely recall. His breath came out in small, moist puffs as the temperature continued to drop, nearing a cold that felt all too familiar.

  Gira closed his eyes, his body swaying gently with the motion of the cart. As the respite of sleep seemed to bathe him in a dream-woven cloak. The abyss with all its eerie presence felt almost tender in its embrace. To Gira, it was like a melancholic lullaby, cold yet tender. Reposing prince, split and shattered.

  When Gira awoke, he found himself in a small, unfamiliar room. The walls were a dull, lifeless white, and the floor was covered in a fluffy yellow-tinged carpet, worn and marred by years of use. He was lying on a soft, brown couch, its fabric warm and soft against his skin. The room was bathed in a cozy warm light that embraced him in sweet respite, offering a momentary sense of peace. Yet, as his eyes adjusted, a dull ache pulsed through his head, and his eyes cast back in shadow. The dream of what once was lost to the noise within. Was it death that claimed the dream? No—just a failure of the mind.

  His eyes abruptly opened wide; the windows to his soul changed. The gray-black of his irises shifting to a deep teal with hints of turquoise, a hidden sea stirred to life within. He stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy. Suddenly, the walls around him shattered, and he was plunged into the depths of the abyss. The song of the vast sea drowned his every sense as crimson fangs seemed to slash through the void. A vision of crimson tendrils and flashes of red, foreign emotions gripped him in a sweltering violence. His own body was an unrecognizable mangle of crimson-shattered limbs.

  Through the maelstrom, a figure emerged—a person? A human? She was crying, her hand reaching out from beyond the shattered everything. Gira felt an instinctive pull and tried to reach for her hand, but when he saw his own crimson-stained claws, he flinched, hesitating as the girl’s tearful gaze met his. He failed to grasp her hand, and the violent sea intensified, its current dragging him deep into the abyss. A vile roar erupted from within, tearing through the haunting song of the drowned. He screamed in regret, harrowing starvation consuming him as he faded into nothingness.

  He snapped out of it. The same white room, the soft orange light, the worn carpet beneath him—the door before him slightly ajar. Relief washed over him, but then the memory of his dream surfaced. A wave of unknown apprehension held him in place. What was that?

  He sat up, straightening himself up and placing his feet on the carpet. His feet rubbed up against a pair of strange shoes neatly set beside him. He raised his hand—unfamiliar, yet without a doubt his own. He turned his head to the side, conflicting emotions swirling within him, leaving him exhausted. His body still felt weary as he slumped back down, releasing an uneasy breath.

  “What am I?” he whispered to himself before slipping into the shoes provided. They were a snug fit, the inside texture an airy and comfortable consistency.

  Exiting the room, he found himself in a rather mundane hallway. It was a dreary little space, devoid of any real character. Gira felt a brief urge to explore, but the feeling abandoned him as his stomach twisted in worry. Something was wrong. The dream had stirred a new set of emotions from within. He shook his head following the hallway, the lights gradually fading until he found himself in a quiet lobby. A young woman sat behind a desk, her gaze locked on the see-through double doors ahead.

  Gira waved his hand, trying to get her attention, but she was extremely focused on the darkness beyond. “Hello?” he said, his voice hoarse from his nap.

  “Eeeeeek!” The girl squeaked, her gaze snapping to the dimly lit figure of Gira. “Oh,” she exhaled in relief. “You’re the guy that Lu came with,” she added, her voice bathed in an anxious apprehension.

  “Yeah? My name is Gira,” he said, giving a little nod.

  “Oh—I’m Calli,” she replied, her voice easing a bit. “N-nice to meet you.”

  Gira offered a faint smile. “Is this Trant Station?” he asked, looking around the room.

  “Yes! I-It is.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Neat—umm, where’s Lucas?”

  “He’s down the hallway, keeping contact with A squa—I-I mean, the other team that headed up the mountain.” She explained as she pointed down another hallway behind the desk.

  Gira looked down the long stretch before turning back to Calli, “Mind if I sit with you?”

  She nodded.

  Gira walked around the desk and saw that she had built a small fort of couch cushions and pillows. He carefully avoided disturbing her soft nest as he sat close to the shaky girl. “Calli, are you a lookout?” he asked, his voice carrying a tender tone? Tender—what? Gira?

  “Not really. I’m actually on standby; we have lookouts outside,” she admitted, her cheeks turning a little red.

  “Well, I like how you’ve arranged things back here. It’s nice and cozy,” he said, adjusting the pillows with care as he settled in. I—what’s going on? Am I an unreliable narrator? What happened to him!?

  She seemed to calm down a bit as Gira huddled next to her, his eyes drifting to the scenery outside. “Did you dim the lights so you could see better?”

  “Y-yeah, otherwise I’d feel a little exposed,” she said, shifting slightly to face Gira. “Oh, and I wanted to thank you two for bringing that tracker. Apparently, A squad was planning on heading to Cau Cliff, but it turns out Mr.Russo’s vehicle was resting further up the road.”

  “Right, Lucas mentioned some kind of car,” he said, mimicking Lucas’s earlier motion.

  She cracked a shy smile. “Yup, that old man and his weird machines.”

  “What’s Lucas’s dad like?”

  She slid down from her post and gestured for Gira to join her. Once they were both nestled below, she grabbed a blanket and asked, “Can you cover your side?” Calli handed one end of the blanket to Gira. “I want to show you some of Mr. Russo’s old videos.”

  “Sure,” he replied, pulling the blanket over to his side, covering his end.

  She turned on her crystalcomm, the device casting a warm light not only from the display but also from its crystalline edges. As the soft glow illuminated their faces, Calli took the opportunity to see Gira more clearly, but then she paused, staring at him.

  “What’s wrong?” Gira asked, noticing her rose gold tinted hazel eyes looking straight at him, causing him to blu—. BLUSH? Is the genre changing? We just met her!

  “Your eyes,” she said, her voice sweet and soft. “I’ve never seen such a vibrant turquoise.” Calli blushed bright red as the realization of her words hit her. “Oh, uh, anyway, th-the videos... right,” she stammered, fumbling clumsily with the device almost dropping it.

  Gira’s brain had begun to fully process the situation. A vision of his naive self faded away with a goofy smile as his brain finally began to pump around his teenage hormones. What is this!? He wondered, as a surge of confusing emotions painted his face red. His eyes failing to meet Calli’s gaze.

  Both of them sat under the blanket; the video still paused in her hand as she, too, realized their situation.

  Gira, still facing away, took a peek in her direction. “So… about the video?” he asked.

  “O-oh, you’re right. Here, t-take a look.” Calli replied, her own face bright red.

  The video began to play, featuring a tall, well-dressed man with rounded glasses and a fancy mustache. His blonde hair, streaked with an odd blue stripe. He was smiling gleefully at the camera, standing beside a familiar motorcycle-like machine. Raising his gloved hands, he showcased the motorcycle as relaxing music played in the background.

  A child’s voice called out from behind the camera, “Say something, dad!”

  Mr. Russo froze for a second. “Oh dear, what was my line?”

  “Ugh, I’ll do it!” a small Lucas marched onto the scene.

  Mr. Russo smiled, continuing to make goofy poses while pointing at the vehicle.

  “This is my da—I-I mean Mr. Laurence Russo’s recreation of the ancient machine known as a motorcycle!” he explained, his tone stiff and robotic as he began to blush at the camera.

  Mr. Russo nodded, stepping away from the motorcycle and pointing at its most prominent features.

  “Because my—M-Mr. Russo has bad balance, he has modified the machine to work with thick wheels.” Lucas explained, giving an annoyed glance at his father, who was still enthusiastically pointing at the wheels. “It didn’t really help, so for the demo we’ll be having my sister showcase it in action,” he added, still sounding a bit robotic.

  The scene cut to a younger Lena, performing jumps and speeding around on the motorcycle behind her the looming silhouette of Krreat outlined the horizon. Mr. Russo stood off to the side of the frame, his legs trembling as he shouted something at Lena, though his voice was overpowered by the oddly calming music choice.

  The next frame showed Mr. Russo, a bandaged Lena, a defeated Lucas, and an angry woman with wild magenta hair posing next to the damaged motorcycle.

  A voiceover began, this time in a deep, warm tone: “The motorcycle was a success; unfortunately, my wife wasn’t a fan of Lena riding it. The helmet I built served us well today. I hope you enjoyed our demo. If you’d like your own, remember to order at least 3 months in advance. You can always find me in my shop under the eastern sky bridge, block 3. Thank you for watching!”

  The video ended with a small map displaying the location of Mr. Russo’s shop.

  The light from the device faded. “So that’s what Lucas’s sister was sitting on.” Gira remarked.

  “Y-you’ve met Lena?” Calli asked, a surprised look on her face.

  “Yeah, we met when I first arrived. She was super nice,” he replied with a smile. Somehow still oblivious to Lena’s true nature.

  Suddenly, the lights outside their pillow fortress flickered on, accompanied by a deep voice: “Calli, they’re almost there!” The voice paused, a hand pulling the blanket off the two. “What are you two doing, and who are you?” the ranger asked.

  “Uuhhh, we were just sitting here talking and I was showing him a video we weren’t doing anything weird under there I swear please don’t misunderstand—please, Denver, I’m not that kind of girl…” Calli blurted out at a rapid-fire pace, her words tumbling over each other in a jumbled mess. Tears welled in her eyes, her ears burning bright red, as she tried to explain.

  “Right…” Ranger Denver replied, raising a brow. “Well, come to the operation room; they got eyes on Mr. Russo’s vehicle.

  Gira and Calli exchanged a nod. Gira stood up first, but Calli struggled as her legs had fallen asleep, the light armor from the ranger uniform adding to the difficulty. Gira noticed and offered her hand, helping her to her feet. In the light, he finally got a good look at her.

  Calli was a petite girl that didn’t seem much older than Gira. She had fluffy, layered hair that was loosely braided to one side,it was light brown with subtle rose gold tinges streaking through it. Her rose gold hazel eyes were very clear, with a small beauty mark under her right eye adding to her delicate features. She wore the standard ranger uniform, which was more like a light set of armor, adorned with various devices. On her right breastplate was a small logo—a star-like design, with the topmost point drawn in an undulating, fire-like pattern. She was almost as tall as Gira but her frame was certainly more slim.

  Turning to face the other ranger, Gira observed Denver. He was tall—at least a full head taller than Gira—with dark, shiny hair that shimmered with a faint green sheen. His amber eyes carried a confident gaze, and his overall presence had a strange approachability to it. Like Calli, he wore the same uniform with a matching logo on his breastplate.

  Before Gira could really process more about the two, Denver reached out and ruffled his hair. “Nice to meet ya! The name’s Denver Hosh,” he announced loudl and proud with a big smile. “But you can call me Big D,” he said confidently, placing both hands on Gira’s shoulders.

  Gira responded with a confused smile, but before he could say anything, Calli kneed Denver in the stomach.

  “Like hell he’s going to call you that, you pervert!” She shouted, her voice carrying an edge of confidence that surprised Gira, as Denver collapsed to the ground holding his stomach.

  With a pained grin, he looked up at Gira. “The ladies, lov—”

  But before he could finish, Calli delivered a swift kick to his crotch, leaving Denver on the ground, foam pouring out of his mouth. Gira recoiled, shielding his own family jewels by instinct.

  Calli’s confidence seemed to shrink as she mumbled, “The c-control room is this way,” she said, pulling on Gira’s hand.

  He glanced back at Denver their eyes meeting. Gira silently mouthed the words, “You got this, Big D!” leaving him with a reassuring thumbs up. Denver managed a smile, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Wether it was from pain or brotherhood, Gira did not know.

  Calli guided Gira down another dreary little hallway, stopping at a door and knocking before letting herself in. Inside was a room coated in instruments composed of crystal-like components and strange esoteric devices, ebbing and flowing in a hypnotic rhythm. At the center of the room stood a large crystal table that seemed to grow out of the floor, its surface functioning as a massive screen displaying all sorts of information. Most of the people in the room were huddled around the far end of the table, studying a map with intense focus.

  Lucas stood on the outskirts of the group, absorbed in counting the number of lines on his hand.

  At the center of the group was Siegwick. He held one of Lena’s beacons in his hand, his stern gaze fixed on the map as he responded to a faint, disembodied voice, his expression serious and focused.

  As Calli and Gira entered the room, Lucas took notice. He slowly stopped counting the lines on his hand, his head turning with a gradual discomfort toward them. His eyes widened in confusion.

  Gira gave a little wave. Lucas’s mouth dropped as he rushed over to them. “Gira?” he asked, confused.

  “Yeah, hi Lucas,” he replied, tilting his head.

  “Were your eyes always that color?” he asked, his mouth ajar as he inspected Gira. “Did you get taller too?”

  “Well, first of all, I don’t even know what I look like—Second, I got new shoes.” He excitedly pointed at the shoes he’d been provided with.

  “Oh, I guess you’re ri—but that’s besides the point!” he shouted in a hushed way. "Why are your eyes green?”

  “T-they’re actually teal.” Calli corrected.

  “Wha—why are you holding hands?” Lucas asked, suddenly noticing she had woven her fingers with Gira’s.

  “I don’t know.” Gira responded, releasing her hand.

  Calli blushed, a teary look in her eyes. “I wa-was just showing him the way, t-that’s all.” She mumbled, her voice wobbly.

  Lucas shot her a look, “You’ve been hanging out too much with my sister.”

  Calli's ears turned red as she looked at the ground fiddling with her fingers.

  Their conversation was interrupted by Siegwick calling out to Lucas. “They’re approaching the wreckage,” his deep, stern voice announced, instantly shifting Lucas’s demeanor from curious to panicked.