Sabir lay sprawled on the ground, clutching at his sides as waves of pain coursed through his body. The throbbing in his muscles was relentless, each pulse a reminder of the beating he had endured. When the initial lightning bolt struck, the bandit poised to pluck out his eye, the blinding flash nearly seared his retinas. His ears rang with a piercing intensity, drowning out all other sounds and leaving his senses disoriented and muddled.

What the hell just happened? Sabir’s mind struggled to process the sudden and violent shift in his surroundings. He had seen flashes of power before, but nothing on this scale. The sheer force of the lightning had been overwhelming, an otherworldly display of energy that left him trembling.

For the first time, Sabir felt abject fear in the face of what seemed like near-omnipotent power. This was beyond anything he had ever encountered in The Limbo, a force so overwhelming it defied comprehension. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing his growing dread as he struggled to regain his bearings amidst the chaos.

Unfazed by his actions, the man in blue began dusting himself off, his expression one of mild annoyance rather than concern. He then turned his attention to Sabir, who lay on the ground, battered and trembling. Without a word of acknowledgment or even a threat, the man in blue strode purposefully towards him.

Sabir watched in a mix of fear and helplessness as the man knelt beside him, his dark cyan hair falling slightly over his eyes. Without hesitation, the man reached for Sabir’s right pocket, fumbling slightly as he tried to retrieve something. Sabir could only rock back and forth weakly, a futile attempt to resist.

With a swift tug, the man in blue pulled out the pass, Sabir’s treasured ticket out of The Limbo. This small piece of paper had caused the entire violent skirmish. The man inspected the pass with a dispassionate eye, seemingly indifferent to the chaos he had just wrought.

After staring at the pass for a minute, a small smile appeared on the man’s face. The pass, about the size of a raffle ticket, had a dark blue hue and showed wear around the edges from constant handling. One side bore the inscription: “Whoever bears this pass is allowed passage through the Threshold for five hours.” Below this time frame, two unique signatures adorned the bottom, symbols of its authenticity and the weight it carried. On the reverse side, a stern warning read: “The bearer must return within this time frame or face punishment from the state.”

The man in blue glanced back at Sabir, his expression softening just slightly. “You’re lucky I was in the area,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “I’ll escort you to the Threshold.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small yellow vial. “Here, this will help,” he said, kneeling down beside Sabir. Seeing that Sabir was too injured to drink it himself, the man uncorked the vial and gently poured the liquid into Sabir’s mouth.

Sabir felt the warm liquid slide down his throat, spreading a soothing sensation throughout his body. The pain ebbed away almost instantly, his bruises and cuts healing at an astonishing rate. He stared up at the man in blue, amazement and gratitude mixing in his eyes. “What… what is this?” he whispered, the words coming out more easily as his strength returned.

“Just a little something to get you back on your feet,” the man replied with a smirk. “I suppose, Ambrosia is far too good for someone like you, however this is considered an emergency. Now, let’s get you to the Threshold before you attract some bigger rats.”

The man walked briskly with his hands behind his back, towards the gates of The Threshold. With a grunt, Sabir slowly got up to follow him, feeling tension in his muscles and a slight pain in his legs. As Sabir trailed behind, he couldn’t help but notice the man’s long dark blue overcoat with white accents, a type of clothing one could never own in The Limbo.

Sabir himself wore a worn-out white t-shirt, stained with dirt and sweat from countless days of toil. His cargo trousers, though in relatively better condition, bore the marks of a hard life in The Limbo, frayed edges, patched knees, and pockets that sagged from overuse. His clothes, practical and unremarkable, were a stark contrast to his savior’s pristine attire.

Without breaking stride, the man spoke, his voice commanding and calm. “My name is Noah Voltaire,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. “You’ll do well to remember it.”

Sabir hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice uncertain. “I’m Sabir, Sabir Quinn,” he said reluctantly, feeling the weight of Noah’s presence but unable to discern his true intentions.

Noah raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. “With your five hours within Havana’s walls, what are you planning to do?” he enquired, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity and challenge. “That’s very little time to do anything, after all.” Noah asked while picking up more pace in his walk.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“School,” replied Sabir bluntly, his voice steadying as he met Noah’s gaze. The single word hung in the air, a simple yet profound declaration of his intent.

Noah’s smile widened slightly, though his eyes remained unreadable. “School, you say? In such a short time? What drives you to pursue education while living in this foul place?”

Sabir’s eyes hardened, a flicker of determination igniting within him. “My sister said education was my only way out,” he said quietly but firmly, struggling to maintain the conversation as he kept close to Noah Voltaire. “She believed it was my ticket to escape The Limbo, to build a better life.”

Noah regarded him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “A noble goal,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Few in The Limbo have such aspirations. I must commend this sister of yours. I’d love to speak to her.”

Sabir clenched his fists, the rough fabric of his trousers scratching against his palms. “I don’t know where she is,” he replied. “That pass you’re holding was her last act of kindness.”

It had been nearly eight years since his sister, Cynthia, had left him. Sabir couldn’t recall that day clearly. It seemed shrouded in a fog of memories. She had woken him abruptly from his restless sleep, telling him she was leaving and that he needed to toughen up and stop crying. Promising to return for him, but she never did.

In her absence, Mrs. Norris took on the role of caregiver whenever she could, but a year later, everything changed when state guards arrived in The Limbo, an unprecedented event.

They bore a letter from Cynthia, mostly filled with mundane words, but one message stood out: she had secured a limited-duration pass for Sabir, granting him access to Havana and enrollment in a Beacon School, a place aimed at educating and equipping young people with little esper powers for employment.

Cynthia’s plea was clear: Sabir must take this opportunity seriously. And so, he immersed himself in his studies, steering clear of the turbulent politics of The Limbo. This singular focus had shaped his life up to this point.

Noah nodded, satisfied with Sabir’s resolve. “Very well, Sabir. I’ll escort you to the gates. But remember, the world beyond The Threshold is as unforgiving as The Limbo. You must be prepared for whatever comes your way.”

With Noah’s last advice echoing in his mind, Sabir and his enigmatic companion finally approached the imposing gates of The Threshold. As they neared, three guards came rushing towards them, prompting Sabir to tense, ready for anything unexpected.

To his surprise, the usually haughty guards almost dropped to their knees, bowing deeply to Noah. “Lord Voltaire, why did you rush ahead? We would have come to assist you-” one guard stammered, fear palpable in his voice.

“No need for that,” Noah interjected calmly. “I have a young man here with a pass to enter through this gate. Please escort him through,” he said, presenting the pass to the lead guard who had spoken.

The guard inspected the pass and glanced at Sabir. “Ah, this kid passes through regularly. We’ll see him through,” he affirmed, signaling to his colleagues to guide Sabir.

One guard positioned Sabir in front of the gate while another extended his hand, eyes beginning to glow faintly. With a low hum, the Gate swung upwards, revealing the entrance to The Threshold. The guard beside Sabir gently nudged him forward, ushering him through the gate.

Just as Sabir was about to step beyond, Noah’s voice called out, “Take care, Sabir. Remember my advice. I’m certain we’ll meet again.” Noah’s tone was unexpectedly warm as he waved a farewell. Uncertain whether to trust someone of Noah’s formidable power, Sabir nodded in acknowledgement and passed through, leaving the guards and Noah behind.

As Sabir’s figure disappeared into the distance, the gates swung shut with a heavy finality, a ritual repeated countless times over the years.

“Lord Voltaire, why were you so lenient with that kid?” one guard ventured once the gate sealed itself.

“No government rat has the right to question me,” Noah replied coolly, raising an eyebrow at the guard’s audacity.

“Forgive me, sir. I meant no disrespect. I was simply curious. Now that it’s over, shall we resume our search? The Limbo is vast, and you’ll need our assistance,” the guard hastily backpedaled, trying to appease Noah.

Noah stretched leisurely, his demeanor nonchalant. “No need. I’m heading home now. I’ve found what I sought,” he chuckled softly. “Seems the rats are forgetting their place more often.”

The guard looked puzzled. “What do you mean, Lord?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Noah sighed in exasperation, clicking his tongue impatiently. “Rats never learn,” he murmured, stepping closer to the guard and resting a hand on his shoulder. “Die.”

Noah’s eyes glowed ominously, and in an instant, lightning struck, reducing the guard to ash. The remaining guards trembled, bowing in fear as their comrade’s life got cut off.

“Give me some privacy. You’re ruining my mood,” Noah commanded, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. The guards quickly retreated, their faces pale with fear.

Leaning casually against the adjacent wall, Noah muttered to himself, “I don’t understand why our family allows these rats to think they’re in control. Those geezers from each of the families love their so-called status quo.” His voice dripped with disdain, his irritation clear.

Noah then withdrew a small, pod-shaped device from his pocket. A holographic projection suddenly appeared when he tapped, displaying the form of an elderly man. The man’s presence exuded authority and wisdom, his eyes sharp despite his age. He had a similar hair color of cyan to Noah, although it was much thinner.

“Noah, report,” the figure commanded, his voice steady and authoritative.

Noah straightened up, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a respectful demeanor. “Father, I bring good news,” he began, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’ve found a clue to our little issue. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it cleanly.”

The elderly man scrutinized Noah for a moment before nodding slightly. “Ensure that you do. We cannot afford any mistakes, we’ll become a laughing stock between the families, if we do not fix this. The collaterals must be kept in check.”

“Of course,” Noah replied confidently. “I understand the importance of this mission.”

The holographic figure faded, and Noah pocketed the device. He glanced at the pile of ash where the guard had stood, his expression unreadable. “Rats never learn,” he muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing.