Maya walked at the head of the group, her hands clenched tightly around the folds of her robe.
Behind her came the others. Lue, the twins Kallen and Kieran, Thomen—all the children who had followed Zeke's teachings and joined his meditation experiment. Trailing them in a solemn, hesitant procession were their parents and families, whispering quietly among themselves.
At the front of it all moved the guide.
The silver-haired woman strode ahead with soundless grace, her long steps gliding across the smooth floor as if the air itself parted for her. She hadn't spoken since their journey began. She didn't need to.
Even in silence, she radiated authority. Purpose.
But questions churned in Maya's mind.
Where were they going?
Why hadn't her brother explained any of this?
She slowed for a moment, letting her senses stretch outward as she'd learned in her meditation sessions. The atmosphere felt… wrong. The air was heavy, the silence too complete. An unnatural stillness clung to the walls, brushing against her skin like static.
"Where are we even going?" a voice muttered behind her.
Maya turned slightly and saw Thomen frowning. The tall boy had his arms crossed, skepticism plain on his face. "This doesn't look like some amazing ceremony. Aren't we just headed for the cellars?"
"It doesn't matter," Kallen said without looking up. The dark-haired girl was as unreadable as ever. Her voice was calm, almost bored. "Lord Ezekiel has something in mind."
Her brother Kieran nodded beside her, as if that much was obvious.
Thomen snorted. "Great. So we get a secret ritual in a damp basement instead of the real ceremony?"
A few of the others chuckled nervously.
Maya's hands curled into fists.
"He wouldn't bring us here for nothing," she said, her voice cutting through the hush of the corridor. "Just wait. You'll see."
Thomen didn't reply.
Neither did anyone else.
But after that, their footsteps grew quieter.
They continued on in silence.
The corridor twisted once more, and as they rounded the bend, someone let out a sharp gasp.
Maya turned and immediately saw the cause of the commotion. The adults were gone.
She blinked.
Just moments ago, their families had been walking right behind them. Now, the corridor was empty. Silent.
"What?" Lue said, spinning in place. "Where did everyone go?"
One of the boys, Aldon, rushed back. But after only a few steps, he halted.
"I—I can't…" he said, pressing his hands against something invisible. "There's… something here. I can't get through!"
He pushed harder, but the unseen barrier wouldn't budge.
More hands joined his. They shoved, scratched, and even struck the air. Nothing worked. The path behind them was gone, cut off, though the corridor looked exactly the same.
A wave of unease rippled through the group.
Maya turned to the guide. "What's happening? Why can't we go back?"
The woman gave no answer.
She simply continued walking.
And again, they followed.
The group moved forward in strained silence. No one dared to speak. The air around them felt heavier now, thick with expectation.
Eventually, the corridor ended—not with a wall, but with a single, unassuming iron door.
It looked completely ordinary. Dusty, a little crooked on its hinges, and utterly unremarkable.
Maya recognized it.
The door led to one of the unused storage rooms in the estate's lower levels. She remembered it clearly. Years ago, she and Lue had dared each other to sneak inside. They'd found nothing but cobwebs and broken shelves.
The guide came to a halt.
Maya stepped forward. "What's beyond this?"
The guide looked at her, expression unreadable.
"Destiny," she said.
And with that, she vanished.
One moment she was there, and the next—gone. No flash, no sound. Just absence.
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The group stood frozen.
Nobody moved.
Not even Maya.
Her hands trembled, and for the first time, she wondered if they had all made a terrible mistake.
They were alone, separated from their parents, and the usually ordinary corridors of the basement complex now felt to her like a hungry beast waiting to devour her.
Even this plain iron door seemed dangerous, like a threshold she shouldn't cross lightly.
Maya didn't know why she felt that way, but her instincts were screaming. The air itself felt charged with an unseen power, raising goosebumps along her skin.
She looked at the door again.
And took a step forward.
"Wait—Maya," Lue said, her voice small. "What if it's dangerous?"
Maya turned to her, offering a faint smile.
"Then we go together."
She reached out, placed her hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned it.
The door creaked open.
And the world beyond was nothing like the storage room she remembered.
A breath of cool air rushed past her, carrying the scent of ozone. Light spilled from within, cool, blueish light with no visible source.
The space was vast. Too vast. It couldn't possibly fit inside the mansion.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The silence was absolute, almost reverent—as though the space itself was holding its breath.
Then Maya looked around, taking in her surroundings fully.
Her breath caught.
A vast pavilion stretched beneath their feet, carved entirely from a gleaming white stone that shimmered like polished moonlight. Intricate patterns wound around the base of each towering pillar, rising in sweeping arcs to support a vaulted roof. The structure felt ancient, eternal, as though it had stood there since the beginning of time. But it wasn't the architecture that held Maya's gaze.
It was what lay beyond. Or rather, the absence of it.
Beyond the pavilion's open edges, there was nothing.
They were standing atop a mountain.
Or… something like it.
No earth, no horizon, only open air and a sheer, impossible drop.
Far below, clouds churned like a restless sea, casting shadows that never reached anything solid. Flashes of lightning danced silently within them, pale tendrils of silver arcing and fading. Thunder rumbled in the distance, deep and slow, as if echoing up from the depths of the world.
Maya took a hesitant step toward the edge, drawn by awe and terror alike.
There was no wind. The air was perfectly still, cool against her skin. It smelled of stone and storms, of things ancient and unknowable.
"This can't be…" someone whispered behind her.
The others had spread out slowly across the pavilion. Some stood at the very edge, gazing into the endless drop. Others stayed closer to the columns, as if needing something solid to cling to. All of them wore the same expression: wonder, tinged with fear.
"This isn't part of the mansion," Lue murmured beside her. "Is it?"
Maya shook her head.
She had never been here before. No one had. A place like this couldn't exist. Not beneath the manor. Not anywhere.
And yet… it did.
The thought sent a shiver through her.
Somewhere deep in her chest, something stirred. Not fear exactly, but a sharp awareness of how small she truly was in the face of something vast and watching.
Was this her brother's doing?
She had always known Zeke was powerful. Everyone did. But this… this was something else entirely. To create a space like this, one that bent reality and defied the natural order—how had he managed it?
The others began to whisper in hushed voices.
Some wondered if it was a dream, or an illusion.
Others suggested it was a test, a conjured place of trial meant for the ceremony.
No one dared raise their voice.
Even Thomen, who usually had a sarcastic remark ready, remained silent. His gaze shifted from the edge of the pavilion to the open sky above, as if waiting for the world to collapse inward.
Then Maya saw it: a presence deeper within the pavilion. It was the silhouette of a person, half hidden in the shadow of a pillar.
"…We aren't alone," she whispered, though in the reverent silence, it felt like a shout.
Everyone followed her gaze, their eyes settling on the same spot.
Maya squinted, trying to make out more.
The person was tall, with broad shoulders—likely a man. He stood with his back to them, facing outward toward the void.
A flash of lightning flared in the clouds beneath, briefly illuminating the silhouette.
It was enough for her to see one more crucial detail.
His crimson hair.
"Approach." The word was spoken lightly, yet it reverberated like a thunderclap in Maya's ears. This was not a request. It was a command.
With hesitant steps, the group of twenty-five moved toward the figure, who still stood with his back to them.
Maya led the procession once again.
She was nearly certain the figure was her brother. The crimson hair had been a dead giveaway. But a sliver of doubt lingered. The presence before them didn't feel like the warm, doting sibling she remembered.
"Stop."
Her feet froze before she had even processed the word. The others halted as well, obeying the voice on instinct alone, before their minds could catch up.
The figure began to move, slowly turning to face them. A shaft of light fell across his face, revealing pale skin, sharp features, and hair the color of blood. Two golden eyes, bright as twin suns, locked onto them—onto her—with a piercing intensity that defied description.
When their eyes met, Maya's legs nearly gave out.
There was power in that gaze, a weight to his presence that pressed down on her chest like stone. For a long moment, no one spoke. Maya stood frozen, caught between awe and terror.
She had heard people describe her brother in strange ways before.
Scary.
Dangerous.
Unfathomable.
She had laughed it off. How could Zeke be any of those things? He was the same older brother she had known her entire life.
Caring.
Doting.
Kind.
Now, though, she finally understood what they meant. The person standing before them was not the Zeke she remembered. He felt more like an ancient beast wrapped in human flesh, his very presence making her teeth itch.
His aura was as frightening as it was imposing.
It made her feel like a mouse being stared at by a cat, nothing but a plaything before a vastly superior being. Was this what it meant to face a Mage?
No. That couldn't be.
She had met enough Mages to know this was something else. Something unique. This regal presence was unlike anything she had ever felt.
"Does anyone know," the man who looked like her brother asked, "why you are here?"
A moment of silence followed, not due to lack of guesses, but because it was difficult to even breathe beneath the weight of his presence.
Even Maya, who had led the group up to this point, found herself unable to speak.
"For… our… awakening," Thomen managed to say from beside her, each word forced out over several seconds.
Maya felt a flicker of admiration for the older boy's resolve. She had never particularly liked Thomen; his flippant attitude often grated on her, but even she had to respect his grit.
Then she saw the smug little smirk tug at the corner of his lips, and her admiration quickly faded again.
The red-haired man turned his eyes on the boy, fixing him with a gaze as sharp as a blade.
Thomen tried to meet his gaze, attempting to show he wasn't intimidated, but his resolve crumbled in less than a second. His eyes dropped, his knees weakened, and his head bowed.
The red-haired man's expression didn't change. He stared at Thomen for a moment longer before shifting his gaze elsewhere.
His answer came in a single word.
"No."
Silence settled once more, and the red-haired man seemed content to let it stretch, waiting for someone to answer his question.
Maya wanted to speak, but the truth was she had no idea what to say. Her answer would have mirrored Thomen's. That was why they were here, wasn't it? What else could it possibly be?
Eventually, when no one spoke, the red-haired man released a long sigh. The sound carried farther than it should have, echoing through the space as if the world itself shared his disappointment.
"Since none of you seem to know, allow me to enlighten you."