The weight of his parents’ words lingered in the air, a palpable tension that made the usually comfortable family dining space feel foreign and cold. Mikhail’s gaze darted between his mother’s somber expression and his father’s unyielding gaze. The gravity of their discussion had taken a turn he hadn’t anticipated.
“It is not necessarily a bad thing,” Janet began, her tone measured, as though she were trying to convince herself as much as him. “We’re just… confused. Such resolve, such willpower, is not something we see often in a pupa.”
Yeltrik’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying Mikhail with a mixture of pride and wariness. “It is something sought after by the Deep Ones,” he added, his voice resonating with a weight that seemed to echo through the room. The mention of the Deep Ones sent a chill down Mikhail’s spine. These were the beings his family prayed to every day, the ancient entities that Shorebraxian culture revered above all else. He’d always considered them more of an abstract concept than anything tangible. But now, they were being spoken of as though they were very, very real.
Janet’s bioluminescent patterns pulsed faintly, a subtle indicator of her unease. “How did you manage to hold out against the maze for so long?” she asked softly. “Most would have failed long before reaching the fourth fruit. Even the third is considered an exceptional feat.”
Mikhail’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t tell them the truth. The memories of Earth, the drive instilled by his previous life as a wrestling superfan, the hours spent dreaming of victory—none of it would make sense to them. More importantly, none of it would be accepted. He already felt the fragile balance of trust teetering on the edge, and he didn’t dare push it further.
He stammered at first, searching for a plausible explanation. “I… I treated it like a match,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “My first ranked match. I thought about the GEWF, about how I wanted to train in VR. I told myself I had to win. That it was the only way.”
It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. He watched his parents carefully as they absorbed his words. Janet’s expression softened, her bioluminescent patterns flickering faintly with what he hoped was relief. Yeltrik remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Mikhail as though trying to peer into his very soul. Finally, he nodded.
“That is an answer I can understand,” Yeltrik said. “You sought to honor our family, to prove your worth. And in doing so, you have brought great attention to yourself. The Deep Ones have been alerted to your presence, Mikhail. They have noticed you.”
The words landed like a blow, their weight sinking into Mikhail’s chest. “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and dread.
Janet inhaled deeply, her patterns dimming further. “It means that you will be summoned,” she said. “The Deep Ones will decide what happens next. It is a great honor, Mikhail, but it is also… difficult. Their decisions are final. If they choose, they may relocate you, even though you are still a pupa. You may begin a form of schooling or training, but it will be according to their desires, not ours.”
Mikhail’s breath caught. “You mean… I won’t be here anymore?”
Janet nodded, her expression pained. “If that is their will. It is no longer up to us.”
Yeltrik’s voice was firmer, though there was a flicker of something almost vulnerable in his tone. “You have done what no other pupa has. You have brought great honor to our family, but with that honor comes the responsibility to serve the greater purpose. The envoy of the Deep Ones will arrive in the morning. Prepare yourself, Mikhail.”
The words hit him like a Stone Cold elbow from the top rope. He’d wanted freedom, yes, but this wasn’t what he had in mind. How had his desire to train in VR spiraled into this? And would the Deep Ones allow him to pursue his dream of the GEWF, or had he inadvertently sabotaged himself by exceeding Shorebraxian norms?
The next morning came too quickly. The home was unusually quiet, the normal hum of activity replaced by a tense stillness. Mikhail had little to pack. Like most Shorebraxians, he possessed few personal belongings. His departure wasn’t meant to be sad; it was a time of transition, a rite of passage. But as he stood in the doorway, the weight of what he was leaving behind settled heavily on his shoulders.
The arrival of the envoy of the Deep Ones was both awe-inspiring and unnerving. The creatures emerged from a sleek, enigmatic vehicle that seemed to hum with an energy that defied explanation. They were clad in suits that resembled Earth astronaut gear, their true forms obscured by the reflective surfaces of their helmets. The air around them seemed to ripple faintly, as though reality itself bent to accommodate their presence.
The vehicle itself was unlike anything Mikhail had ever seen. Sleek and streamlined, it emitted a low, resonant hum as it hovered just above the ground. When he stepped inside, he was struck by the openness of its design. For the first time in his life, Mikhail could see the world outside his home—the real Shorebraxia.
Vast oceans stretched out in every direction, their surfaces shimmering under the faint light of the system’s twin suns. The few patches of land were dominated by sprawling industrial complexes, automated construction sites, and towering machinery that belched steam and fumes into the air. It was a harsh, industrialized landscape, a stark contrast to the carefully curated environments within his home. Mikhail stared out in a mixture of awe and discomfort. It was strange, and oddly gross, but it was real.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The vehicle began its descent into the ocean, its hull glowing faintly as it plunged into the depths. At first, the darkness was oppressive, the water around them an inky black void. Mikhail felt a pang of fear, his mind conjuring images of unseen creatures lurking just beyond the glow of the vehicle’s lights. But as they descended further, faint glimmers appeared in the distance, growing steadily brighter.
When they finally emerged into the light, Mikhail’s breath caught. Below them was a sprawling underwater city that seemed to shimmer with a life of its own, a mesmerizing dance of light and form. Bioluminescent patterns pulsed in harmonious rhythms across every surface, casting shifting hues of azure, emerald, and violet that illuminated the dark expanse of the ocean around it. Towers of coral-like material spiraled upward, their intricate surfaces studded with what looked like living jewels, each one glowing faintly as if breathing in time with the city itself.
Massive bridges, seemingly woven from strands of pearlescent fibers, arched gracefully between the towers. Their surfaces glimmered with threads of light that ebbed and flowed, guiding unseen currents of energy. The pathways below were bustling with Shorebraxians and other beings, their figures moving in fluid synchrony, illuminated by the soft glow emanating from the ground itself. The city’s layout was both organic and deliberate, as though it had grown naturally yet was touched by a guiding intelligence.
Above, translucent domes enclosed some of the tallest spires, their interiors revealing lush gardens filled with bioluminescent flora. Streams of light flowed like rivers between the buildings, cascading into glowing pools that dotted the city’s lower levels. The water itself seemed alive, teeming with luminescent creatures that darted through the currents, their movements adding another layer of vibrancy to the scene.
Far below, massive conduits connected the city to the ocean floor, their surfaces throbbing with energy as they siphoned geothermal power from the depths. Around these conduits, glowing glyphs pulsed with a mysterious rhythm, their patterns reminiscent of the prayers Mikhail had seen etched into the walls of his home. It was as if the city itself was a living entity, a symbiotic union of technology and biology.
Everywhere Mikhail looked, there was motion and light, a symphony of color and form that defied his understanding. The awe he felt was tinged with a strange familiarity, as though he had glimpsed this place in dreams or stories long forgotten. It was beautiful, otherworldly, and overwhelming all at once, a testament to the ingenuity and transcendent artistry of Shorebraxian culture.
As they approached the city, Mikhail remembered a lesson from the learning pod. The Deep Ones, revered as gods, were said to reside in these underwater sanctuaries, their presence a guiding force for Shorebraxian society. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He was about to meet them, to stand before beings he had only ever known through prayers and stories.
The vehicle docked, and the envoys gestured for him to follow. One of the suited figures approached him, their reflective helmet obscuring any hint of a face. A faint hiss emanated from their suit as they extended a device toward him—a compact, translucent sphere that seemed to shimmer faintly in the ambient light.
“Place this on your skin,” the envoy said, their voice distorted, as though filtered through layers of static and water. Mikhail hesitated but obeyed, pressing the device to his arm. Instantly, it expanded, encasing him in a thin, pliable bubble. The sensation was disorienting; the world around him muffled and warped as if he were trapped inside a glass jar. Every sound—the hum of the vehicle, the faint pulse of the city’s bioluminescence—became distant and tinny.
“This will protect you,” the envoy added. “The transition can be unsettling.”
When Mikhail stepped out of the vehicle, his first instinct was fear. The immense pressure of the ocean should have crushed him instantly, yet the bubble held firm. He took a cautious breath and realized he could breathe effortlessly, the bubble filtering the water into breathable air. The experience was surreal. As he moved, the bubble adapted, its membrane allowing water to flow in and out without breaking. Each step felt as though he was walking through shifting currents, the water around him alternately clinging and parting.
The city’s pathways alternated between air pockets and submerged zones, each transition seamless and almost magical. One moment, Mikhail’s bubble filled with air as he stepped into an open space surrounded by shimmering towers; the next, he was fully submerged, the bubble adapting without so much as a ripple. The sensation of moving between elements left him feeling as though he were part of the city’s rhythm, a participant in its silent, flowing dance.
The suited envoy stayed close, their reflective visor occasionally tilting as if observing him. As they neared the city’s pathways, the suits that had encased the envoys began to shimmer and ripple, the reflective surfaces dissolving seamlessly into flowing dust with intricate bioluminescent patterns. The transformation was so smooth and natural that it seemed as though the suits had never existed at all. The envoys now looked almost ordinary within the city’s radiant ambiance, their movements fluid and unimpeded.
Mikhail couldn’t help but glance at them, curiosity mingling with unease. “Is this how you… always move around here?” he asked, his voice sounding oddly distant within the bubble.
“Not for us,” the envoy replied, their tone unreadable. “But for you, it is necessary. The city is not kind to outsiders who are unprepared.”
As Mikhail moved farther from the vehicle, the bubble encasing him shimmered, its surface rippling like liquid glass. Slowly, it began to contract, its texture shifting seamlessly into a flowing robe that clung lightly to his frame. The transformation was unnervingly smooth, the suit now resembling Shorebraxian ceremonial wear, complete with faintly glowing glyphs that pulsed in harmony with the bioluminescent patterns of the city around him. Mikhail flexed his fingers experimentally, marveling at how natural it felt despite its alien origin.
He opened his mouth to speak and found that his voice came out clear and unhindered. “I… I feel normal now. What just happened?”
The envoy tilted their reflective helmet, observing him with an inscrutable air. “Your adaptation is complete. The robe provides you with protection and allows you to exist here as if you were one of us. The Deep Ones do not tolerate barriers, even unintended ones. You must present yourself fully when the time comes.”
The words sent a shiver through Mikhail. As the glowing pathways stretched out before him, his awe was tempered by a growing sense of apprehension. Whatever lay ahead, he knew this was only the beginning