The headquarters of the Etherion Enforcers loomed over the city like a monolith, its sleek steel and glass exterior reflecting the faint glow of the moonlight. Victor stood at the base of the towering structure, craning his neck to take in its daunting height. The building seemed alive, pulsing faintly with the energy of countless Etherion conduits running through its walls, an unspoken testament to the power housed within.
Clutching his bag and the black-and-gold card, Victor took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The lobby was vast and austere, its high ceilings and polished floors amplifying every sound. Figures in sharp uniforms moved briskly through the space, their faces a mix of determination and exhaustion. The air was heavy with authority, a weight that pressed down on Victor as he approached the front desk.
Behind the desk sat a woman in her mid-thirties, her uniform immaculate, her dark hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun. Her sharp eyes darted up from a datapad as Victor approached. For a moment, she simply stared, clearly sizing him up.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone clipped and professional.
Victor hesitated, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I… I need to see Mr. Morrison. Arcadius.”
Her brow furrowed, and she set the datapad down with a deliberate motion. “Mr. Morrison doesn’t see walk-ins. If you’re here to waste his time—”
“I’m not,” Victor cut in quickly, pulling the card from his pocket and sliding it onto the desk. “He gave me this.”
The woman’s sharp eyes lingered on Victor as she picked up the business card from the desk, turning it over in her fingers. Her initial skepticism softened into a flicker of surprise, though her demeanor remained rigid. With a nod, she slid the card back toward him and stood.
“Follow me,” she said curtly, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she led the way.
Victor adjusted the strap of his bag and followed, his nerves tightening with every step. The sterile lighting of the lobby gave way to sleek, quiet corridors, lined with thick glass panels revealing bustling offices beyond. The faint hum of Etherion conduits vibrated through the walls, a subtle reminder of the immense power housed within this fortress.
The woman stopped in front of a private elevator at the end of the hall, scanning her badge. The doors opened with a soft chime, revealing a luxurious interior, its metallic walls glowing faintly with embedded Etherion lines.
“Step inside,” she said, gesturing. Victor hesitated briefly before obeying.
The woman entered after him, pressing a button marked with a simple "H" at the very top of the panel. The elevator surged upward with a near-silent motion, the faint hum of its mechanics the only sound between them.
“This is the highest floor,” she said, her tone softening but still formal. “Mr. Morrison’s personal office. Not many get to meet him, let alone with his invitation.”
Victor clutched the strap of his bag tighter, his thoughts racing. Arcadius—known to the world as the Holy Star—wasn't just a figure of legend; he was the embodiment of power, strength, and an unwavering sense of justice. The fact that he had taken the time to rescue Victor earlier that day—and now this—was overwhelming.
The elevator slowed, its motion ceasing with a smooth stop. A soft chime signaled their arrival, and the doors slid open, revealing a grand hallway bathed in golden light. The Etherion lines along the walls here glowed brighter, casting warm shadows that flickered like sunlight on water. At the end of the hall stood an imposing set of double doors made of dark wood, their intricate carvings glowing faintly with golden Etherion. Above them, inscribed in elegant lettering, were the words:
“Holy Star.”
The woman stepped aside and gestured toward the doors. “He’s waiting for you,” she said simply. “Don’t waste his time.”
Victor’s heart hammered in his chest as he nodded. The weight of the day pressed down on him, but he straightened his shoulders, taking a step forward. As the doors loomed closer, he couldn’t shake the sense of awe—and a twinge of fear—that this moment would change his life forever.
He paused at the doors, staring at the golden script for a moment longer, before raising his hand to knock.
Victor hesitated at the ornate doors, his knuckles hovering in the air for a moment before he steeled himself and knocked. The sound echoed softly in the golden-lit hallway. For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, a deep, commanding voice came from within.
"Enter."
The weight of that single word seemed to press on Victor’s shoulders, but he swallowed his nerves and pushed open the doors. They swung inward soundlessly, revealing a vast office that looked like it had been plucked from a palace.
The room was bathed in warm golden light, with massive windows lining one wall, offering an expansive view of the city skyline at night. The lights of Hawthorn stretched out endlessly below, twinkling like stars. The ceiling arched high above, adorned with subtle Etherion lines that pulsed faintly, giving the impression of a living, breathing space. Rich wooden paneling and elegantly carved bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes that looked ancient and invaluable. A roaring fireplace to one side added a comforting warmth to the room.
At the center of it all was a massive desk made of dark, polished wood, etched with intricate Etherion patterns that glowed faintly with golden light. Behind the desk sat Arcadius Morrison—The Holy Star. His presence was as commanding as ever, even in repose. The man’s broad shoulders and towering frame seemed to fill the space, his golden hair catching the firelight like a halo. His piercing blue eyes lifted from a document in front of him, locking onto Victor as he entered.
“You’re here sooner than I expected,” Arcadius said, his tone both curious and measured as he leaned back in his chair. He set the paper aside, folding his hands together on the desk. “What brings you here tonight, Victor?”
Victor lingered near the doorway for a moment, feeling dwarfed by the sheer scale of the office and the man sitting before him. His hands gripped the strap of his bag as he stepped forward, his throat tightening.
“I…” Victor hesitated, the weight of everything threatening to choke him. He took a deep breath and forced the words out. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Arcadius’s brows furrowed slightly, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. “What do you mean?”
Victor stepped closer, his voice low but steady as he began to explain. “When I got back home tonight, there was an eviction notice on the door. My dad... he’s been struggling for a long time, and the bills—” He paused, his voice catching slightly. “We lost the house. Everything inside is all we had left.”
Arcadius didn’t interrupt, his eyes fixed on Victor as he continued.
“I climbed in through my window to get some of my things. Clothes, a few personal things…” He gestured to his bag. “But I couldn’t stay. There’s no one else to help, no one to turn to. And I... I didn’t know where else to go.”
The room was silent for a moment, save for the faint crackle of the fire. Victor felt his cheeks flush as he stood there, vulnerable and exposed, spilling his life story to one of the most powerful men in the world.
Arcadius’s expression didn’t waver. He rose slowly from his chair, the motion fluid and deliberate. He crossed the room, his towering frame moving with a grace that belied his size, and stopped a few feet away from Victor. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, seemed to pierce through every wall Victor had ever built.
“You’ve been dealt a cruel hand,” Arcadius said, his voice low but filled with an unshakable resolve. “But the fact that you came here—that you chose not to run from this—says something about you.”
Victor blinked, taken aback. “It does?”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“It says you’ve got the strength to face what others would avoid,” Arcadius said firmly. “And more importantly, you have the sense to ask for help when you need it.”
Victor’s throat tightened again, but this time it wasn’t from fear. There was something in Arcadius’s tone—an understanding, a quiet reassurance—that felt like a lifeline in the storm.
“So,” Arcadius continued, stepping back and gesturing toward a chair near the fire. “Sit down. Let’s figure out what’s next.”
Victor hesitated, the weight in his chest lightening just enough for him to nod. He moved to the chair and sank into it, the warmth of the fire wrapping around him as Arcadius returned to his desk.
Arcadius returned to his seat, settling into the chair with a deliberate calm that somehow commanded more respect than any grand gesture. He folded his hands on the desk and looked across at Victor, his sharp blue eyes softening with something almost paternal.
“You’ve had a rough start,” Arcadius said, his voice low but carrying the weight of conviction. “But it doesn’t mean that’s where your story ends.”
Victor sat up slightly in the chair, the words surprising him. He didn’t expect encouragement, least of all from someone like Arcadius Morrison—a man whose reputation as the Holy Star was larger than life. He swallowed hard, searching for a response but coming up empty.
Arcadius leaned forward, his hands resting on the desk. “I know what it’s like to feel like the world is against you. To feel small. But I also know this: every challenge, every hardship, is an opportunity to build something stronger.”
Victor blinked, the knot in his chest tightening. “How do you mean?”
Arcadius’s lips curved into a faint smile, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “The world won’t give you anything for free, Victor. You’ve already seen that. But it can’t take away your ability to fight back. To build your strength, your mind, your spirit.”
Victor nodded slowly, but doubt lingered in his voice as he spoke. “It’s just... it feels like I’m starting at zero. No affinity, no home... nothing.”
Arcadius’s gaze sharpened slightly. “That’s not true. You have something far more important than an affinity: you have Etherion. The energy that binds us, fuels us—it’s not about what power you were born with. It’s about how you use what you have.”
Victor looked down, his hands gripping the edge of his bag. The idea felt foreign, almost impossible. But Arcadius’s tone didn’t leave room for doubt.
“Do you know why they call me the Holy Star?” Arcadius asked, leaning back slightly in his chair.
Victor shook his head, surprised by the sudden shift in the conversation.
“It’s not just the Sun Affinity,” Arcadius said, gesturing faintly with one hand as if conjuring the blazing star itself. “It’s because I refused to let circumstances define me. People doubted me, tried to box me in. But I burned brighter because of it. And you can do the same.”
Victor hesitated, his voice quiet. “Even without an affinity?”
Arcadius’s expression softened further, a rare warmth spreading across his face. “Victor, there’s more to strength than affinities. Intelligence, resilience, creativity—these are just as powerful. And I see those things in you.”
Victor’s throat tightened again, and he glanced down to steady himself. It was overwhelming to hear such words from someone who barely knew him, someone who could have dismissed him outright but instead had opened a door.
“You came here tonight because you’re willing to fight for something better,” Arcadius continued. “That’s why I’m going to help you.”
Victor’s head shot up, surprise and disbelief flashing in his eyes. “Help me? How?”
Arcadius reached into his desk and pulled out a sleek black card, setting it on the desk between them. It wasn’t the business card Victor had been given earlier—this was something else, embossed with a gold sigil that pulsed faintly with Etherion. It bore Arcadius’s name and the insignia of the Etherion Enforcers, along with a direct contact number.
“This is my personal line,” Arcadius said, sliding the card toward Victor. “You’re going to need support, guidance. Someone in your corner who believes in what you’re capable of. I can be that, if you’re willing to put in the work.”
Victor stared at the card, his breath catching. “I... I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll try,” Arcadius said simply. “That’s all I ask.”
Victor reached out and took the card, the cool surface pressing against his palm. It felt like more than a card—it felt like a lifeline.
“I’ll try,” Victor said, his voice quiet but steady.
Arcadius nodded, satisfaction flashing in his eyes. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling over them. Arcadius broke it with a faint smile, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Now, I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night. Go get some rest.”
Victor hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”
Arcadius’s expression softened again, almost imperceptibly. “You’re welcome. Remember, the hardest part is always the first step. You’ve already taken it.”
Victor stood, clutching the card tightly in his hand as he turned toward the door. He paused briefly, glancing back at Arcadius. The Holy Star sat at his desk, bathed in the golden light of his office, an almost mythical figure made human.
Arcadius watched Victor lingering near the door, the weight of everything pressing down on the young man’s shoulders. After a brief pause, the Holy Star spoke, his tone measured yet warm.
“For the time being,” Arcadius said, his voice cutting through the silence, “you can stay with me.”
Victor froze, turning back toward the man behind the desk. “Stay with you?”
Arcadius nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. “You need a roof over your head, stability, and a chance to focus on what’s ahead. I’ve got plenty of space. Consider it a temporary arrangement until you’re back on your feet.”
Victor blinked, his throat tightening. “I... I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
Arcadius waved a hand dismissively, his usual commanding presence softening. “No need for thanks. Everyone deserves a starting point. You’ll find yours soon enough.”
Victor hesitated at the doorway, the enormity of Arcadius’s offer settling over him like a heavy blanket. The older man gestured toward the chair beside his desk, his movements measured yet inviting.
“Come, sit,” Arcadius said, his tone calm but firm. “We’ll figure this out together. But first, I need to wrap up a few things. You can keep me company.”
Victor settled into the chair next to Arcadius, still hesitant, his movements tentative as though testing the limits of the moment. The office was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the holographic interface Arcadius worked on. The man himself was focused, his brow furrowed as glowing data and charts flickered before him.
Victor shifted slightly, unsure of what to do with himself. He hadn’t expected Arcadius to take him in like this—or to be so calm about it. Everything about this situation felt surreal, like he was caught in someone else’s story.
“So,” Arcadius said after a beat, his voice steady but not overly warm, “what’s on your mind, Victor?”
Victor blinked, startled by the sudden question. “Uh… just… trying to process all of this, I guess.”
Arcadius glanced at him, one eyebrow raised in mild amusement. “That’s understandable. It’s not every day you end up here.” He gestured vaguely around the expansive office. “And it’s certainly not every day you have a shadow monster nearly drain the life out of you.”
Victor managed a weak smile at the dry remark. “Yeah, that part’s… definitely new.”
Arcadius leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his broad chest as he studied the boy. “You’re carrying a lot on those shoulders, aren’t you? I noticed that about you the moment we met. You’re sharp, observant. But you’re also wound tight, like you’re waiting for the next blow.”
Victor stiffened, his fingers curling around the edge of the armrest. “I guess it’s been… a rough couple of years.”
“That much is obvious,” Arcadius said matter-of-factly. “But you don’t need to walk around like the world’s about to collapse on you every second. You’re here now, and that means you’re not alone. At least not entirely.”
Victor let out a faint scoff, though it lacked real humor. “It’s not something I’m used to.”
“Clearly,” Arcadius replied, his tone softening just a fraction. “But no one gets far trying to carry everything on their own. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Just be honest with yourself.”
Victor looked down at his hands, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. Arcadius returned to his work, the glow of his interface casting faint shadows across the room. For a moment, Victor thought the conversation was over.
Then Arcadius spoke again, his tone casual but probing. “So, where’s your family in all this?”
Victor tensed, the question striking a nerve. He hesitated, weighing his words carefully. “Not… really part of the picture.”
Arcadius tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “What do you mean?”
Victor swallowed hard, his voice quieter now. “My dad… he’s not exactly reliable. And my mom…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.
Arcadius didn’t press, but his gaze remained steady. “I see.”
Victor shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “It’s fine. I’ve managed on my own.”
“Have you?” Arcadius asked, his voice sharp but not unkind. “From where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve been scraping by. That’s not the same as managing.”
Victor bit the inside of his cheek, unsure how to respond. Arcadius sighed, rubbing his temple as though debating something internally.
“Look,” Arcadius said, his tone softening, “you don’t have to lay it all out for me. But let me make one thing clear: you’re not a burden. You’re here because you’ve got potential, and I’d hate to see that wasted because no one gave you the chance to grow.”
Victor blinked, caught off guard by the straightforward statement. He looked at Arcadius, the man’s expression calm but firm, like he’d already decided this was the way things would be.
“You really mean that?” Victor asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” Arcadius replied simply. “For now, I’ll help you get back on your feet. You’ll stay here, get your bearings. And in the meantime, we’ll figure out what to do about all of this.” He gestured vaguely at Victor, as though encompassing both his Etherion and his current circumstances.
Victor nodded slowly, the knot in his chest loosening just a fraction. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Arcadius waved a hand dismissively, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ll have to pull your weight around here eventually.”
Victor gave a faint laugh, the tension easing slightly. Arcadius leaned forward, returning to his holographic interface.
“For now,” Arcadius said, not looking up, “sit there, breathe, and let me finish this report. If you’ve got questions, ask. Otherwise, enjoy the quiet while you can.”
Victor settled back in the chair, the weight on his shoulders feeling just a little lighter. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel completely adrift. And though the road ahead was still uncertain, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he’d found a place to start again.