The city, emerging from heavy rainfall, gleamed with renewed vitality as the sun cast its golden glow upon the wet cobblestone streets. Carriages, both horse-drawn and steam-powered, navigated the thoroughfares, creating a symphony of clattering hooves and the gentle hum of machinery.
The streets fill with the ebb and flow of the working class, a collective motion akin to cogs in a well-oiled machine, each going different ways but contributing to a shared purpose. Their worries may differ, but a prevailing sense of normality unites them.
The mundane struggles of life seize precedence over the abstract fears that may lie beyond the veil of their everyday existence. Putting food on the table and securing a roof over their family's heads eclipses the significance of potential threats that may dwell in the unseen corners of the city.
Law enforcement patrolled the streets in uniforms that seamlessly melded tradition and innovation. They strolled leisurely, only stopping to rid the street of dirty, homeless ‘rats’ who lingered too long. These perceived ‘threats’ to society took priority in their minds as reflected by their actions.
In the heart of the city loomed a nondescript four-story brick building. Passersby quickened their pace as they approached, not out of fear for the building itself, but for its authoritative occupants. This structure served as the headquarters for the law enforcement agency, notorious for its unyielding commitment to maintaining order and enforcing laws with absolute inflexibility.
James, a middle-aged man with a weathered expression, stood on the top floor, peering down at the bustling streets with an intense gaze. The office he occupied was plain and minimalist, featuring only a desk, a couple of shelves, and a solitary door.
The door opens.
A young man with golden hair that shimmered in the morning light entered the room. Despite his youthful appearance, serious expressions etched their mark on his immature face.
"Senior James, the preparations are complete. We're ready to begin.”
James cast one last look outside before nodding. "Good. Let's head down."
The door closed behind them as they descended to the building's lowest level, concealed from public view. Technological and mystical security measures guarded the entrance, lest any underestimate the importance of the room.
Upon identification, they stepped into a heavily warded chamber, an aura of solemnity enveloping the space. Researchers clad in protective gear moved about, attending to their duties. Behind a protective screen, an ancient stone pedestal held a mysterious black object, slim and rectangular.
James greeted the head researcher assigned to this project. Dr. Issac was a well-respected powerhouse in his field. James trusted the professionalism and ability of the well-educated man.
"Any updates on the object?" he inquired, eyes fixed on the mysterious artifact.
Dr. Issac, adjusting his protective gear, briefed them on the latest findings, "No response to light contact or the presence of living beings. We're prepared for the next phase."
In the corner, D-008, a nameless criminal, awaited instructions. The disposables are never given a name.
"Alright, D-008, step forward," Issac directed, his gaze shifting to the man chosen for the task. “Approach within three feet of the item.”
D-008 hesitantly approached the stone pedestal, the tension palpable in the room. Standing within three feet of the mysterious object, D-008 awaited a reaction that never came. Before the relief could hit him, another command echoed through the silent room.
“Make contact.”
Steadying his shaking hand, D-008 pressed his finger against the cool surface. A Blinding flash of light engulfed him. In the ensuing silence, the room's wards remained inactive. As his sight returned, he glanced toward the figures behind the glass.
"Proceed, D-008," James commanded, his body tense with anticipation.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
D-008 closed his eyes and slid his finger across the enigmatic object's smooth surface. Murmurs rippled through the room, signaling a change that even with closed eyes, he could sense.
Frozen in place, he was escorted out, leaving the researchers to decipher the new findings. Curiosity was a perilous thing in this place, and D-008 had no interest in its consequences. He did not relax until he heard the familiar steam mechanisms of the door lock behind them.
_
"Dr. Issac?" James prodded the other man, curiosity stirring within him.
Dr. Issac, with an animated gleam in his eyes, responded, "It's fascinating. The artifact seems to have a protective identifying measure, preventing anybody but its master from activating its abilities. It's a strong indication that it's manmade, and if that's the case, we might be able to harness its powers ourselves."
James nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the implications. "Manmade? That opens up possibilities. Keep me informed of any further developments, Dr. Issac."
Dr. Issac simply nodded to acknowledge he heard, already engrossed in the intricacies of the artifact. James left the man to his work.
He exited the research chamber, leaving his assistant, Sam, behind to monitor the ongoing studies. An evergrowing pile of paperwork on his desk called his name despite his reluctance. He would much rather be out in the field…
Before he could reminisce about the old times, a front desk employee handed him a handwritten note. “Commander James, a message for you.”
His eyebrows creased as he finished reading the short message. “Did you see who sent the message?”
“It was a child about seven years of age.”
James nodded his thanks before continuing his path back to his office. He didn't know why he expected that man to show any responsibility when he had never demonstrated such behavior before.
Despite his distaste for his old friend’s actions, he still made a mental note to check on his godson. The child had to grow up with no parental love despite both parents being alive and well. James sympathized with the young man and wondered about his recent endeavors.
~
David
The bakery endured a sluggish day, devoid of customers, leaving David ample time to investigate the borrowed book. He flipped it open, his thoughts lingered on the exchange that occurred upon his return to the bakery with the newly acquired tome.
[The cloaked and masked managerial figure approached, and the familiar request hung in the air. "The book," the figure intoned, its voice muffled by the bone-white mask.
David, book in hand, stood his ground, his tone cautious but firm. "It's borrowed, and I must return it when the time comes. I must also familiarize myself with its content before the time arrives."
The silence that followed felt pregnant with unspoken implications. David, holding his breath, wondered if he had inadvertently betrayed his true motives.
Finally, the cloaked figure spoke, its words measured and cryptic. "Very well. I will inform the organization of your intent. Expect a message regarding future plans."]
David relived the relief that washed over him when the figure retreated without further action. He understood that he was playing with fire, yet no regret tainted his resolve. Although he survived twice in the bookstore entity’s presence, the fear that stained his soul was inevitable. Everything else paled in comparison.
Within him, a dormant spark flickered back to life—one he presumed long extinguished. Ambition. It battled his innate fear and cautiousness before reaching a compromise. Caution had been a steadfast companion, and David had no intention of abandoning it.
David's eyes remained permanently widened as he explored the new source of knowledge.
The ancient god in the borrowed tome bore the name Ethrion, the Whispering Celestial—a deity residing in the liminal spaces between reality and myth. Ethrion's dominion extended over secrets, dreams, and the uncharted territories of the human psyche.
As David read through the sacred verses, he discovered a passage recording a few abilities often granted to Ethrion's followers. The descriptions of these abilities stirred a mix of anticipation and apprehension in him.
A seed of curiosity sprouted in David’s mind as he considered the possible link between the deity described in the pages and the entity from the mysterious bookstore. Could he be an apostle of the great god, tasked with spreading the teachings found in the sacred book?
Why had the bookstore owner chosen him for this divine gift, and what motives guided that decision? In the wake of newfound knowledge, David found himself confronted with more questions than answers.
-
Ethrion (Neutral) Description Whispers of the Abyss Gain insights into hidden knowledge, guided by the whispers of Ethrion. Dreamweaver's Embrace Manipulate dreams, share prophecies, and unlock hidden memories through communion with Ethrion. Veilwalker's Veil Traverse the veil between realities, glimpsing unseen dimensions. Shroud of Secrets Cloak yourself in Ethrion's protective embrace, rendering you invisible to mortal and supernatural scrutiny.