The doors slid open, and I was momentarily breathless. The tranquility hit me like a wave. It was immediate, an atmosphere so serene it felt lifted from a dream. Leaves floated through the air, carried by a gentle breeze that skimmed over smooth, even strips of white gravel like flowing silk.
One step forward felt like crossing a threshold into another world. Contrary to the sleek, mechanical aesthetic the Engineers had previously suggested—though my sample size was admittedly limited—what lay before me was something far more… traditional.
A ring of trees stood in perfect formation around a central pavilion, its polished stone fractured. The cracks beneath my feet gave the illusion of standing atop a still, broken lake. Pink petals drifted lazily through the air, a serene image interrupted only by the reality of my torn boots, each step biting into my soles as the sharp stone pressed through.
Etched into the ground were arcane patterns. Some spiraled like ripples, others rigid with geometric symmetry that began to glow with a soft, cool blue. The light pulsed just as Griffith, the last to emerge, stepped out beside me.
Wrrr.
The symbols thrummed with a deep power, vibrating beneath my feet. Then, without fanfare, the device behind us flickered out of existence, vanishing cleanly and leaving only the garden’s full splendor stretched before us.
“Not what you expected?” Synthia asked, her voice laced with amusement as she caught my stunned expression.
I exhaled slowly, rooted in place. “No. Not even close.”
A path revealed itself, circular stones meandering through the gravel like stepping stones across a stream. Between them, ornamental rocks nestled among precisely trimmed brush.
Near the trail, tall crystal spires jutted from the ground, each one pulsing with a soft orange glow, casting gentle halos across the gravel and foliage.
We halted as a small pond came into view. Unfamiliar lilies, a shade of otherworldly blue, floated upon clear and turquoise water. The petals of the lilies drooped as if sleeping, while reeds framed the pond’s corners, rustling gently against perfectly placed grey brick.
But it wasn’t the lilies, or even the water that stopped us.
It was the creatures gliding beneath the surface.
“They’re the same, aren’t they?” Griffith said quietly from just behind me.
I nodded slowly. “Or something very close.” It was possible, of course, but it gave me pause. How far apart were our worlds, really? Fish could be found across the globe, familiar yet adapted.
The glowing sea creatures we’d glimpsed en route to the second island. The ones that fired beams of energy into the sky, lifting columns of ocean in luminous pillars. The similarity wasn’t conclusive, but it was enough to give a strange confirmation that no matter how alien this place seemed, it still belonged to the same world.
“The building ahead is the main house,” Synthia said, nodding toward a structure I hadn’t yet taken in fully. Mei followed silently behind her. “There’s a guest room, but we’ll need to check with Mei’s father.”
I moved forward again, each step deliberate. We passed beneath the canopy of miniature groves lined with pruned trees, their leaves aflame in hues of deep crimson, soft gold, and luminous green. Carefully sculpted bushes bloomed with clusters of tiny, fragrant flowers, and the grass underfoot, even like carpet across the earth.
There was a balance here, a quiet mastery. Every corner cultivated. Every element controlled.
But the house was something else itself.
In a civilization I had assumed to be obsessed with metal, glass, and circuitry, the sight of this place felt like stepping back through centuries.
Beyond the final grove, the path widened into a more conventional stone walkway, leading to a two-story structure that, while rectangular in form, exuded anything but simplicity. Dark timber beams framed each level, their surfaces worn smooth by time.
The roof sloped outward in broad arcs, the curved tiles dark and elegant. Beneath the eaves hung delicate wind chimes, almost invisible save for the occasional flicker of motion—singing soft, crystalline notes into the wind.
The walls weren’t solid in the way I was accustomed to. Instead, they were made of sliding panels crafted from pale wood and what appeared to be a soft, almost velvety plaster, each surface glowing faintly from within.
Every window and doorway was bordered with delicate ornamentation: etched lines shaped into curling vines and flowing river patterns, subtle and deliberate.
“This is insane…” I breathed, the words escaping before I could stop them. I turned to Synthia, finally voicing the thought circling my mind. “You live here?”
She chuckled, shaking her head with a hint of fondness.
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“Somewhere close by, but not here. The mast—Mei’s father has a taste for… pageantry. He’s generous enough to let me stay on the estate.”
It reminded me of Serith. I could already imagine her wandering these gardens with wide eyes. She would absolutely love this place, but honestly, so did I.
“Think the builder’s into tropical aesthetics?” I murmured absently, half-joking but also genuinely intrigued. Whoever had created this deserved to be commissioned by a king...
“I’ll extract the information,” Griffith replied dryly, though there was unmistakable yearning in his tone. He was just as taken as I was.
A raised wooden veranda wrapped around the lower level of the house, its slatted floorboards elevated slightly above the stone walkway. It creaked gently underfoot, worn with time and weather but immaculately maintained.
A man stood at the far entrance, posture stiff and watchful. His gaze had locked on us from the moment we arrived, though he said nothing until we approached the threshold. I couldn’t help but notice his eyes lingering on me more than anyone else.
Though, considering I was a half-dressed teenager accompanying the master’s daughter, I supposed his scrutiny was justified.
“Synthia,” the man called out, his voice edged with concern. His grip tightened around the staff in his hand, knuckles pale against the polished wood. He wasn’t angry, just tense. “How is Miss Mei?”
Synthia gave a subtle shake of her head, her expression dimming into something quietly disappointed. “She’s fine, but…”
Her voice faded, trailing into silence. The implication behind her pause was clear enough.
“I see,” the man replied, exhaling softly. Whether that breath was relief for Mei’s wellbeing or satisfaction at the outcome was hard to know. Possibly both.
I decided to speak up, stepping forward and lowering my head in the respectful gesture I’d seen others use around here.
“I was her opponent. My name’s Peter.” I glanced up, letting the words hang in the air, waiting for a reaction. His expression remained flat, but not unfriendly. That was… promising. “Mei and I became friends quickly, and I just want to make sure she’s okay.”
I kept my head lowered, waiting in silence. Thankfully, Synthia stepped in with support.
“Mei’s learning a lot from him, Rojin. And I am as well. He’s someone you can trust.”
A quiet moment passed. The breeze stirred, brushing my dark hair across my eyes as I waited. I raised my head fully, letting the silence linger just a little longer.
“You look about my size,” Rojin finally said, his tone cool but not dismissive, directing the words at me. “You can come with me. The rest, Synthia, guide them to the dining hall. The master will come back shortly.”
I glanced skyward and realized just how much time had slipped by. The horizon was bleeding into orange, an unmistakable sign of evening. Time was beginning to lose its grip on me.
Synthia gave me a light nudge from behind, urging me toward the stranger.
“You can go with him. This place is safe,” she said quietly, though the words seemed less for me and more meant to reassure Griffith.
The commander’s eyes met mine, and I offered him a smile.
“It’ll be fine. I doubt Rojin will—”
As I turned and met Rojin’s gaze, something shifted. A flicker of something sharp and unspoken flared behind his eyes. A sudden hostility that hadn’t been there before, but I hadn’t said anything. Had I?
“Peter?” Griffith called out, his voice carrying a note of concern.
I cleared my throat, choosing to ignore the nearly imperceptible glare tightening across Rojin’s face.
“I’m sure we’ll meet up soon.”
Griffith gave a curt nod, then followed Synthia as she stepped forward. The door slid open with a smooth hiss, revealing a pristine interior beyond. So, it turned out not everything here was so… underdeveloped after all.
Rojin and I locked eyes again. His hand tightened instinctively around the shaft of his weapon, knuckles whitening with tension.
“You… seem close to Synthia,”
he said, his voice bypassing the air entirely and slipping straight into my mind.Phantom Whisper.
Or something close enough to it. But this version felt... different. Familiar, yet distinct. There was no surge of Force channeling sound to my ears or tangible ripple of power in the space between us. No, this was either a product of their Blessing… or the new energy here—Animora.
“Oh yeah,” I replied, grinning the way I usually did. Which most people seem to misread. “We go waaay back. Shared a room a few times.”
His eyes widened at my response. Not at the mimicry of the ability, but at the content of my words. He hadn’t needed to say much; the jealousy was practically leaking out of him.
Now it makes sense.
Oh yeah. Hit the nail spot on. Maybe there was some rule against randomly attacking people. In society like this, it would make sense that a ‘he said things about the girl I have a crush on that I didn’t like’ wouldn’t be a viable defense for assault and battery.
Why do you test people? Wyrem’s voice coiled inside me, full of playful amusement. The question wasn’t reproachful but proud. Encouraging even.
He’s growing more cruel, the young flower added with an almost maternal warmth, its petal veins shimmering with a blooming orange-pink. How lovely.
And oh, did he tense. It was like his very skin tightened across his frame, muscles drawn taut, his face folding into a deep, haunted frown. Some anger was there, sure, but underneath it, unmistakably, was loss.
It hit hard. So much so that I couldn’t help but laugh—a quiet chuckle escaping even as guilt twisted faintly in my chest. Still, it lifted my mood.
“Relax, man,” I said, easing the tension before someone exploded. “I’ve got a girlfriend. Synthia’s just an old friend. Nothing going on between us.”
His shoulders eased, marginally. Not all the way. The steel didn’t quite leave his spine, but some of the weight drained from his stance. A flicker of hope sparked in his amber eyes. Still, a trace of fire lingered in his gaze.
“I don’t think I like you,” he said plainly, with a kind of brutal honesty I could almost respect. Then he turned, voice clipped. “Follow me. You shouldn’t be greeting anyone looking like that.”
Making new friends is always nice.