ACT I

  A newborns cry pierced the silence as moonlight leaked through the shattered palace walls.

  From behind a small leaf on the floor, a little pink nose appeared, sniffing, before a mouse curiously poked its head out; its fur was a soft gray.

  As it scurried across the uneven ground, its tiny paws sank into the damp soil, passing small bugs on the way. Its whispers shook cautiously while its tiny nose constantly sniffed the air for danger.

  Nearby, camouflaged against the surrounding leaves of a bush, a green tree python emerged. Cautiously extending its head its tongue flickered out. Snapping forward, the python’s jaws clamped over the unsuspecting mouse, quickly coiling around it.

  The mouse’s faint, distressing squeaks and rustles steadily faded while it struggled in the snake’s grasp. Not long after the rodent’s tail slipped into the snake’s mouth as it slithered ahead. Peculiarly, from the end of its body, small branches with leaves grew.

  Gliding through the jungle, the snake inadvertently crossed over a half-buried hand. As it passed the hand moved, subtly but unmistakably.

  Among the surrounding foliage, a woman regained consciousness, lifting her face from the dirt. Slivers of grass and tiny rocks clung to her face, while the scent of wet bark and flowers filled her nostrils.

  With quivering lips and vacant eyes, she glanced around in confusion. A low, throbbing ache reverberated through her skull, accompanied by a sharp, persistent stab from her sore muscles that made every movement feel labored.

  “Help!” a man’s desperate plea echoed in the distance.

  Wet roots wove around some pillars, while others lay crumbled, hidden by the shadows of towering jungle trees. Their twisted branches draped with hanging vines contributed to the tangled undergrowth, concealing most of the cracked polished flooring.

  What was supposed to be a grand hall, instead, looked like a jungle...

  Spitting a strand of grass from her lip, the woman hoisted her head, thinking to herself, how long have I been unconscious?

  The distant rustling of leaves and the faint chirping of insects added to her growing sense of disarray, but then her eyes widened as she frantically searched for something.

  Nearby, two little legs kicked out of a bundle of towels.

  She gasped, “The baby!” Pain shot through her as she coughed, her words ragged and strained. She curled into a ball, her fists digging into the dirt.

  Elsewhere, the walls crumbled, sending a cloud of dust into the air as two men pushed through moments later.

  Debris littered the area—broken mirrors and splintered wood from an overturned table to name a few.

  “What happened here?” Hector said.

  The flickering torchlight illuminated the bloodstained floor, casting unsettling shadows over the gruesome sight of a lifeless body propped up by a root that had broken through the ground and torn through them.

  “It’s happening everywhere, not just here,” Mézel said, taking the lead by stepping up and over the rubble before them.

  Scanning the darkened surroundings, they searched for any signs of life.

  “Can anyone hear us?” Hector called out, his voice echoing within the expansive room.

  “We’re with the rescue brigade! We’re here to provide help!” Mézel said.

  “Over here! My leg’s pinned!” a man pleaded from afar.

  The two exchanged a quick glance before pressing on.

  Listening carefully, the woman lying on the floor thought to herself. Rescue brigade… Did we have such a thing?

  A few minutes later, rounding the corner of a tree, Mézel noticed the pinned man. “Found him,” he said, stepping out into the open.

  The man, trapped beneath the rubble, cried out, “Thank you,” clutching his pained leg. “My names Richard.”

  Mézel approached, his shadow falling over the injured man. Unsheathing his blade with a chilling scrape, he said, “Try not to squirm around too much, Rich.”

  “Wait, no, please—!”

  A scream cut through the air, sending icy shivers down the woman’s spine.

  The small legs of the baby kicked, and its cries slowly rose again.

  Panic surged through her as she scrambled over, though her body felt as though it was on fire with every movement. Before the baby, she gently pressed her clothing over the infants mouth, whispering, “Forgive me.”

  “Alright, let’s move on…” Hector said, averting his eyes from the deceased man.

  Heart pounding in her ears, the woman saw the baby’s gasping breaths growing shallow, each one a desperate struggle that could turn fatal if it continued.

  Her hands shook uncontrollably, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, before alas, she released her grip.

  “That a baby?” Mézel said, turning around.

  “Sure does sound like it...”

  “This way,” Mézel said, and with a gesture of his head, the two pressed on, voyaging further into the jungle.

  The wet vines slipped by them, dripping down their necks as they moved, making Hector shiver.

  Along one tree, a green snake slithered upward, and beneath them, the occasional body wrapped in a swarm of roots.

  A centipede crawled out of one of their mouths, trading places with a line of ants racing in.

  “What a foul smell,” Hector said, placing his hand on a rough tree trunk for support, but he lost his footing, wincing in pain as a jagged edge slit his hand. “Shit!” Blood seeped onto the ground in slow drips, followed by subtle ruffling nearby. “Did you hear that?” Squinting into the shadows, he took a step forward. “Is someone there?”

  “Get a move on,” Mézel said, urgently. “We can’t be here long. We’re on a strict schedule.”

  Pausing briefly, Hector nodded, then looked away from the darkness.

  Emerging into a small clearing, they found the crying baby surrounded by several lifeless bodies.

  “It really is a baby…” Hector said, wrapping his hand in cloth.

  “Well, hurry along,” Mézel urged, gesturing toward the infant. “I got the last guy, this one’s yours.”

  “It’s just a baby?” Hector replied.

  “Orders are orders,” Mézel said firmly, the leather of his glove creaking as he tightened the grip on his weapon.

  “Okay, relax…” Unsheathing his blade, he moved toward the baby. I just had a newborn as well, if I do this, it’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life, I just know it… His blade hovered ominously over the child.

  The woman kept her breathing shallow, feeling suffocated by the tension of trying to avoid being discovered among the dead. Her body tensed at the sight of a nearby dagger. Letting the baby die was not an option!

  “What’re you waiting for?!” Mézel said, but sudden rustling in the surrounding jungle halted everyone as a pig burst through the bushes.

  Its pink and brown hide twisted sideways as its belly flopped on the ground before immediately bursting back into the shadows of the jungle.

  Startled, the guards slowly lowered their hands…

  “Just a pig,” Hector said with a sigh, but then the pig’s deafening cries sliced through the air.

  A shadow raced through the jungle nearby, alerting both guards.

  “What was that?!” Mézel said, drawing his blade.

  “Halt!” Hector said.

  Scowling, the Mézel said, “Come on.”

  Cautiously, they descended into the jungle.

  She lifted her head, gasping for breath as she struggled to regain her composure.

  “I’ve got to hurry,” with trembling fingers, she reached for the dagger, but her hand smacked the hilt, causing it to skitter across the ground. With a pounding heart, she lunged for it a second time, her fingers finally finding the hilt before alarming cries from guards caused her to look back in concern.

  Twisted, withered, purple vines, stained with blood, crept from beneath thick bushes, coiling around and into the corpses scattered on the ground.

  “It can’t be…” She desperately lunged for the baby, but there was a sharp tug on her ankle, yanking her backward as her body slapped against the floor. “The vines, they’ve got me.” She was steadily drawn from the child, pulled into a dark and frightening abyss. With all her might, she fought the thick, stubborn vines, sawing at them as they tightened around her. “I can’t cut them!”

  Gazing at the vines approaching the baby, then back at her ensnared foot, grim determination settled on her face.

  5 YEARS AFTER THE SHATTERING

  Lying flat on his stomach, Tanabe gazed through the dock made of many twisting roots.

  A gold coin necklace hung between the gaps of the woven bridge, nearly touching the calming waves below.

  Observing the swimming fish, he took a sharp stick from the waterside tree.

  Layered over the dock like fungi, were many glowing sacks that glowed in a variety of colors.

  Below him, on the ocean floor, were similar ones as well. As they breathed, they swelled like a frog’s neck, their brightness growing with their size, then dimming as they shrank.

  As a fish neared, Tanabe tensed. He drove the stick he held into the glowing sack above ground, and below, one of the same hue detonated with a rush of air. The force sent the fish flying in the opposite direction before it plunged back into the water.

  “Patience,” Tanabe’s grandfather said, viewing from a tree stump near the shore. “Focus on the flux force coursing through the plant.”

  With a nod, Tanabe positioned the pointed end of the stick, readying himself for another stab.

  After a moment, he thrusted forward, puncturing another.

  He was drenched in a sudden burst of water, tasting salt as a large fish, its scales sparkling like jewels, soared into the air.

  Swinging his arms in a large hug-like motion, Tanabe caught the fish. “I got one!”

  “Not bad,” his grandfather said.

  The fish wriggled sporadically within Tanabe’s grasp before slipping loose and slapping him across the face.

  Determined, Tanabe clasped his hands together, but the fish shot free from his grip like an ice cube.

  As its body twisted overhead, he pursued it, anticipating its fall, only to discover his footing had vanished.

  Looking down, he saw his leg dangling over the dock’s edge. “Whoops—” Crashing into the water the cold shock enveloped his body as his arms shot out in a panicked scramble, screaming, “H-Help! I can’t swim!”

  “Give standing a try,” his grandfather said, yawning.

  With a few frantic movements, Tanabe found his footing. “Oh…”

  “What’s that?” With his hand above his eyes, General Kur looked into the distance. “No, it can’t be… A sea monsters headed your way!” He pressed down on a sac with his foot, causing the water to explode behind Tanabe.

  “Sea monster!” Tanabe said, rushing to the shore before lunging onto dry land. As his grandpa laughed hysterically, he rolled to his back, breathing heavily as his light beige hair soaked the earth.

  General Kur winced, “O-Ow,” as someone tugged his ear.

  “Quit teasing our grandson,” Tanabe’s grandmother, Chayte, said.

  “I was only joking,” General Kur said, massaging his throbbing red ear.

  Tanabe, please get into some dry clothes. We’re heading into town in a few,” Chayte said.

  “Okay!” Tanabe said, racing off as his shoes splattered against the ground.

  “I thought we had a deal?” Chayte said.

  “We only trained for an hour,” General Kur said.

  “He spends every day training,” Chayte said, placing her arms along her husband’s broad shoulders.

  Leaning his head back, General Kur gazed directly into his wife’s eyes. He traced the soft lines around her gentle hazel eyes, a treasured beauty preserved since the day of their meeting. “It’s for his own good.”

  “Let him live a little, he’s only five,” she replied. “What’s the point of the war finally ending if there can’t be moments of peace afterwards?”

  “Unfortunately, we face another war,” Kur sighed, his gaze drifting to the distant ocean.

  “Nevertheless,” a gentle kiss was placed on the top of his head, “it can wait.”

  Later that day, the sun dipped low over the coastal city, casting a warm golden light on the cobblestone streets.

  “He—Hero of the Jade Wars,” Tanabe said, struggling to read the inscription on a statue of a young man, obscured by graffiti.

  He was joined by a blue walking mushroom as large as a soccer ball. Its legs, like two small white tree stumps, were positioned beneath its overlapping head.

  Leaning over, from its head, ooze steadily emerged like sweat, drenching the graffiti at the foot of the statue.

  “It’s the number one elite.” An adult, wearing overalls, knelt beside them, dipping a sponge into the purple goo. Vigorously scrubbing, the graffiti gradually vanished.

  “The number one elite of the empire?” Tanabe said.

  As he wiped sweat from his brow, the man offered the sponge, and the plant responded with more slime. “Yeah, the current one, at least.” He gazed up at the statue’s face, tears forming in his eyes before he wiped them away and scrubbed heavily again. “During the Jade Wars, he liberated us from a large group of bandits occupying the area. We’d all still be prisoners, or worse, if it weren’t for him.”

  “Then why do people draw on him?” Tanabe said.

  We can’t truly fathom the “why” behind some people’s choices. We can only acknowledge that they happen and move forward while being the best version of ourselves,” Chayte said, arriving behind her grandson with Kur.

  “For your troubles,” the general said, flipping a gold coin forward.

  “Ah—” the coin fumbled around in his hands before he could grab hold of it. “But this is…” The coin shimmered, reflecting the banner of the empire, which was a flower.

  Glancing at the statue, he then shifted his gaze to his grandson. “Come Tanabe.”

  Quickly rising, the man bowed, as did the blue muishi next to him. “Thank you.”

  Turning to leave, Chayte said, “Try not to wander too far. You mustn’t forget grandpa’s position. There are still those who may try to take advantage of it.”

  “Yes, Grandma,” Tanabe replied.

  A heavy hand pressed onto Tanabe’s head, ruffling his hair and causing him to giggle.

  As they strolled through the busy marketplace, General Kur, who was quite stern, seemed to soften up.

  Mushroom creatures, each diligently performing their tasks, crowded the streets.

  “Muish-Muish,” the artist said, brushing aside numerous blue muishi’s.

  Having climbed the painting from behind, one reached the top, then released purple goo, which rapidly wiped away half of the extravagant artwork in an instant.

  The painter fainted at the sight of it.

  “There’s a lot of Muishi around,” Tanabe said, lifting his foot as a small one ran under.

  “Indeed. Muishi come in many sizes and colors, all moving in unison, one leg advancing in front of the other like toy soldiers,” General Kur said.

  One tripped, and like a turtle on its back, it could not rise.

  “They’re kind of cute, in a way,” Chayte said with a giggle.

  “They’re surely one of the more useful anomalies the World Tree has produced,” General Kur said. “They don’t harm humans, and when they break down, they release positive flux.”

  “A valuable ingredient for the soil within the Auditorium,” Chayte said, tracing her finger along a stand of flowers.

  “You like?” the vendor said, swiping his hands slowly over many-colored flowers within handcrafted vases.

  “Their beautiful, but no thanks,” Chayte replied.

  “What does that one do again?” Tanabe asked, pointing at a green muishi.

  “We’ve been over this, remember boy,” General Kur said.

  Nervously, Tanabe attempted to remember. “Um, the green mushrooms help with, reconstruction?” With a nod of approval from his grandfather, Tanabe continued. “The blue removes impurities, so they’re purifiers. Yellow are travelers, and the red…”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Chayte leaned over, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Detection of Minus.”

  “Oh yeah,” Tanabe said. “Protectors.”

  “Those are just the ones present,” General Kur said. “Do remember the others by the time we get back.”

  Suddenly, a large yellow muishi skidded to a halt before them; a woman sat cross-legged on its mushroom head. “Care for a picture? Today’s a special day, so it’s on the house!In her possession was a box whose legs were made of branches.

  “No—”

  “Sure,” Chayte interrupted, pulling Tanabe between them.

  “Alright,” the lady said, hopping off and firmly standing the contraption before them.

  “Is that a lulu box?” Chayte said.

  “Sure is! But with LuluTech’s change in ownership and their current pace,” she stated, opening the tripod, “I doubt these boxes will be around for much longer.”

  “LuluTech sure has come a long way,” Chayte said.

  After positioning the device, she dropped a green stone into the top slot of the box. “It’ll take a moment for the luminite to spark.”

  “What’s a luminite?” Tanabe asked.

  “They’re stones, sometimes as big as a house. They carry a special essence known as flux force,” Chayte said.

  “Flux force? I thought only those like me and Grandpa have that?” Tanabe said.

  “Flux force flows through everything. You both just have the rare ability to access it, unlike most,” she said, playfully tapping her finger on his nose.

  The clear circle within the box that held the stone lit up, while the branch-like legs of the tripod extended and anchored themselves into the ground as if absorbing its nourishment. “Alright, if everyone’s ready, say Lumi!”

  “Lumi!” Tanabe and Chayte said, and a bright flash emerged.

  Sliding open a hidden compartment beneath the box, the photographer caught the green stone. “Looks like this one’s almost bit the dust,” she said, examining the cracks all over it. Moments later, a picture exited the back of the contraption. “Hope you like it,” she said, handing the photo over.

  Hoisting herself onto the yellow muishi, the photographer waved goodbye, searching for another group to take a picture of.

  Seeing the picture caused Chayte to smile before she put it away and looked ahead. “Shall we?”

  As they walked, a voice broke through the mingling crowd.

  “General Kur, is that you?!” Geth, an old, rounded vendor, waved enthusiastically from his stall full of colorful ripe fruits.

  General Kur, looking over his shoulder, signaled with his hand, saying, “Kur is fine.”

  “Sorry sir. Old habits die hard.” Glancing at Tanabe’s grandmother, he gave a slight nod, saying, “Chayte.” Placing his hands to his sides, “So, what brings you out to these parts? Is the empire doing okay? Was worried ever since the large quake a few years back.”

  She grabbed Kur’s arm, her eyes filled with concern as she began, “The Empire, its…”

  “Everything is okay with the Empire. New alliances have helped it rise higher than ever before,” General Kur said.

  “We needed some time away,” said Chayte. “It can be a little distracting.”

  “I hear you, did twenty years of it. How ‘bout a snack for the road?” With a wave of his hand, he showed a basket full of glistening peaches. “They’re from my orchard—sweetest in the city! We’ve got everything from golden pluffs and peach porous to the Cronos-native midnight peaches. Took me a while to import them, even longer to grow…”

  “Can I choose?” Tanabe asked.

  “Go ahead,” Chayte said.

  Tanabe’s fingers paused over numerous peaches before settling on one with a delicate pink hue. “I’ll take this one!” he said, holding it up joyfully, but his grandmother’s smile faltered.

  Glaring at the peach as if it were a fragile memory, “Oh,” Chayte murmured, a tremor in her voice. “That’s the same your father loved.”

  “Really?” Tanabe said, gazing at the peach in his hand.

  Kur saw his wife glance away, blinking as if fighting back tears. He sighed, then said, “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Thanks for the peach,” Tanabe said.

  With a nod farewell, they departed.

  “Come back anytime,” Geth said.

  Tanabe bit into the peach, and sweet juice ran down his chin.

  Nearby the photographer was taking another photo, blurting, “Say Lumi!” before the flash went off.

  “Grandma, what does Lumi mean?”

  “It originates from a new popular cafe within the kingdom of Excalibur, however, I’m not entirely sure what it means.”

  “Lumi…” Tanabe said, pondering the word.

  Stepping forward, Chayte closed her eyes, breathing deeply as the scent of cinnamon filled her nose. “Mm, apple pie.”

  The air gradually grew in aromas of grilled meats and baked goods as they approached the town center.

  Tanabe inhaled deeply, before immediately pinching his nose. “Ew…”

  His grandfather burst into laughter in front of him. “Sorry it’s not as good processed,” he said, waving a hand over his rear.

  “Grandpa!” Tanabe said, face boiling red.

  As night arrived, lanterns illuminated faces of many dancing in the town square.

  “Would the lady honor me with a dance?” General Kur said, holding his hand out to his wife.

  “The lady would,” she said, gently placing her hand within his.

  While Tanabe observed his grandparents dancing, children joyfully ran past him.

  Among them, a young girl placed a flower necklace around his neck before they all skipped through the crowd of dancing couples under the hanging decorations.

  Noticing a flickering light down an alleyway, Tanabe said, “What’s that?”

  “It’s astonishing that the World Tree’s eruption didn’t harm this town at all,” said Chayte.

  “It’s people are far removed from the threat of any Minus, a blessing indeed.” Gently twirling his wife full circle, he pulled her in, placing his hand upon her back. “Though, ignorance can also be deadly.”

  “Only if you jinx it so,” she said, placing a finger over his mouth to silence him.

  “We should tell them what the world looks like now,” General Kur said.

  “Let them live in the peace they know. The Shattering has touched nowhere near these parts. What right do we have to replace that joy with fear?”

  Elsewhere, Tanabe lingered closer to the light, realizing a person wearing a ragged hooded cloak. Looking over their shoulder, he saw two candles and a photo of a nearly balding man placed on the stone floor.

  “What’re you doing?” Tanabe said.

  “First time attending the harbor of memories ceremony?” the man spoke, though he didn’t turn around.

  “Mhm,” Tanabe said. “Who’s that?”

  “Someone I once knew.”

  “Were you two close?”

  “Nigh inseparable, I’d say…” A boney finger stretched out, pointing at the candles. “During the ceremony, you light a candle next to the photo of someone important to you, helping guide them in the afterlife. Some even place a gold coin beside it to pay for any debts or promises they left unfulfilled before passing.” His hand fell to his side. “Unfortunately, I’ve got nothing to offer, so I hope my good graces should be enough.”

  As Tanabe looked at the photograph, he remembered his earlier chat with the man near statue. Gazing at the coined necklace around his neck, he said, “Can you offer anything of value, even if it’s not yours?”

  “I suppose so,” the man said, coughing slightly.

  “Here,” Tanabe said, extending his arm with the necklace.

  Tilting his head slightly toward the dangling coin, the man said, “You would give me this?”

  “It’s what the number one elite would do,” Tanabe said. “So, you can have it.” Letting the chain slip through his hand, it landed in the man’s palm. “I’ve got to go now,” Tanabe said, turning around and waving goodbye as he left.

  The man’s blotchy dried-up hands twirled the coin around with his fingers before noticing the flower emblem of the empire.

  Gazing down the alleyway, Tanabe departed, his face was a clear replica of the man within the portrait before him…

  Following the dance, tables covered in white cloths were brought out; each table had photos with a candle beside them.

  “Where did you go?” Chayte said as Tanabe ran up to her.

  “No where far,” he said, gazing down and twiddling his fingers.

  “The ceremony’s begun. Come, light a candle,” General Kur said, stepping aside to reveal two small portraits.

  One had a photo of a man, and the other a woman.

  Tanabe took the small cup with a candle from his grandmother. One candle already burned beside his father’s picture, leaving only his mother’s unlit.

  As he approached the table, he frowned, then lowered his gaze. “I promise I’ll make you proud.” He lifted his head, eyes watery, and tilted the candle toward his mother’s photo. “Continue watching over me, Mom, Dad…”

  Tanabe stared into the flickering flame, the fire reflected in his eyes.

  “Is that you Tanabe?” a lady spoke.

  Outside a house, Tanabe’s gaze moved from a candle flame to a woman, coat-clad, leaving her shop during a fierce snowstorm.

  The glistening streets of the empire, which normally reflected the beauty of the night sky, lay blanketed in white as the shadowed side of the radiant crescent moon flaked over them.

  “Yes, mam,” Tanabe said.

  Leaning over the railing to get a better view, she shook her head. “Look at the boy, in pjs of all things,” she said to herself. “What’re you doing out in this weather?”

  “I’m running an errand for grandpa,” he replied, revealing a bag of food in his hand.

  Thinking about the date, the woman sighed. Walking down the steps of her shop, snow crunching under her feet, she muttered, “Same time as last year, and the year before that...” She removed her coat and placed it over Tanabe. “Please give the general my regards.”

  “Thank you for the coat,” Tanabe said, nodding briefly.

  “Stay warm, hun,” she said, returning to her shop and closing the door behind her.

  Lost in thought, Tanabe trudged through the snowy landscape.

  It’s been two years since that night…

  Bit by bit, the light within the homes surrounding him turned off.

  Laughter from a nearby house made him pause and look curiously as he walked by. Though most of his view was blocked by thick, overlapping curtains, he could see a family inside.

  “I’m going to be the number one elite!” the first kid said.

  “No, I’ll be number one!” the other stated, and toy swords fiercely collided.

  Tanabe chuckled to himself, placing his free hand over his mouth. “I’ve got a lot of competition,” he said, continuing home. Glancing at the logo on the rumpled Crumbly Cattaneo bag, “It was nice of Mr. Regano to keep the restaurant open a little later for us,” Tanabe said

  As Tanabe turned a corner, a patrolling guard spotted him.

  “Hey kid, you can’t be out after dark. Hurry home.”

  “Apologies,” Tanabe replied, carefully jogging ahead with high strides over the snow.

  The doorknob shifted slightly to the left, then to the right. Click!

  A leg was lifted over the topside of the couch as Tanabe entered.

  “Me—hic—whose there?” Kur’s groans faded into snores, lulled by the soft jazz.

  ‘I’m yours and your mine, forever.

  Together we can have forever.

  Darling, I can’t imagine forever, without you by my side.’

  Tanabe sighed, his gaze falling on the scattered pillows and broken vase on the red carpet. He set his candle and food on a low table before gradually cleaning up the surrounding mess.

  Yawning, General Kur scratched his stomach as his velvet blanket slid from his waist to the floor. He held a nearly empty bottle, drool escaping his lips.

  Tanabe tried to reach for his grandpa’s lifted leg, only for his grandpa to twist over pressing his other foot on the boy’s cheek. “It stinks...” He peeled his face away from the foot and carefully set down his grandpa’s leg. Pulling the blanket over him, he took the bottle from his hand.

  “Mine…” his grandfather mumbled, before slipping back into heavy snores.

  Outside, the metal lid of a trash bin clanked shut, sending powdered snow outward.

  Tanabe’s nose, a light pink from the cold, sniffled as he gazed into the empty snow-filled plaza.

  Their home, like many others in the plaza, had an open front yard before the space transitioned into the plaza.

  Back inside, he locked the door, slipped off his slippers, and, after surveying the room, nodded softly before heading to the kitchen.

  With his grandpa’s meal safely in the fridge, he turned to the numerous drawers. “Where did we keep the plates again?”

  Many cooks could comfortably work in the large kitchen, and since his grandpa remodeled every year, the plates often ended up in different spots.

  Climbing the counter, “Here?” Before him, many decorative plates appeared.

  A plate in one hand, a bag of food in the other, Tanabe strolled along a wide corridor. Upon entering the dining room, he was met with a breathtaking wooden table.

  The chair squeaked as it was dragged across the floor.

  Placing the plate and bag together, he emptied the container of noodles onto the plate. As he broke the chopsticks, a small cat jumped onto the table, surprising him.

  “Meow.”

  “Hey Mini,” Tanabe said, feeling its soft fur against him; she wore a red spotted bowtie. Presenting a single, sauce-drenched noodle; the cat seized it, and, with a jump, exited the room. Clasping his hands, he offered a prayer of gratitude for the meal. Taking a bite, stars emitted from his eyes, whispering, “So, good.”

  After dinner, Tanabe gently squeezed a small blue muishi, releasing purple ooze. “What a day,” he said, scrubbing away.

  After finishing the dishes, his hand hovered over a green gem embedded into the wall, turning the lights off. Grasping his candle, he glanced at his grand.

  As he grasped his candle, his grandfather mumbled sleepily, “Chayte…”

  Tanabe’s eyes fell upon the two candles burning above the fireplace. They had a picture of his smiling grandmother between them. Approaching, he traced her facial details, before finally blowing out the candles.

  Slowly, he climbed the creaking stairs to his upstairs room and shut the door.

  As he placed the candle on his bedside table, the light exposed a photo of him with his grandpa and grandma in a town by the coast. He blew out the candle then stretched his arms and legs.

  Roughly an hour later, Tanabe said, “I’m not tired at all…” Turning to the wall, he nestled with a pillow. A soft moonlight barely lit the room, yet his eyes were lost in the dark recess of the bed. Frowning, he mumbled, “I’ll make you proud.”

  “Chew!” a sneeze sounded from outside.

  Lifting his head from the shadows, Tanabe said, “Who could be awake so late?” He got out of bed and looked through the window.

  The snow appeared to have ceased—the area deserted.

  “Whose there?!” Around the corner, a guard arrived promptly with a larger yellow muishi by his side, and a single beam projected from a spot on its mushroom head, lighting up a wall with no sign of anything present.

  To avoid being seen through his home’s window, Tanabe leaned back. “I can’t let Grandpa find out I was up late, not with training later today.”

  “Maybe it was a cat,” the guard shrugged, departing as the mushroom’s glow faded.

  Tanabe took another look outside—still no one. On the verge of giving up, he noticed a wooden barrel lid trembling open.

  The lid inched open revealing a boy around his age.

  From the barrel, the boy tiptoed to the palace outer walls, hooked a rope over them, and climbed swiftly; however, he slipped, his face colliding with the freezing wall.

  Continuing up, he muttered, “Stupid snow.”

  “What’re you up to?” Tanabe said to himself, as the hook detached, and the boy disappeared behind the wall.

  The next morning, the ninth floor of the empire was shaking from training occurring in the sparring park.

  Tanabe jumped to his left, narrowly dodging a large rock that smashed into the ground. Panting, he pushed himself up, focused on the person exiting a pluff of smoke opposite him.

  Cloaked in a mystic black robe over golden armor, General Kur stepped out of the debris’ shadows. “Enough. It seems like your mind is elsewhere today.”

  “Sorry,” Tanabe said.

  “Your training will be intensified beginning tomorrow,” General Kur announced. “Keep up.”

  “Understood,” Tanabe said, bowing slightly.

  Following their training, the two were in a vibrant plaza adjacent to the emperor’s palace; children were making snow angels, and families were building snowmen.

  The night’s snowfall had left about a foot of snow which the sun and many feet lessened.

  A ring of wealthy homes bordered the large plaza, while long alleyways displayed a continuous series of similar grand houses.

  “Serves you right!”

  From a giant pillar in a large fountain at the plaza’s center, someone shouted, “Serves you right!” He gathered powder, made a snowball, and tried to throw it at a projected image emitting from the monolith, but he lost his footing and fell.

  Tanabe looked briefly at the hologram of the wanted criminal. “The images blacked out, instead of colored in. Someone’s caught or killed the man…”

  “Justice Tower,” General Kur said, his gaze sweeping across the shifting bounties. “Soon enough, they will all answer for their crimes.”

  From the palace entrance to the guest lobby, gold-clad guards marched, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground as they quickly moved the citizens aside.

  “You can see the inner gates all the way from here,” a mother said, pulling her child in close.

  Friends excitedly huddled together. “The elites will arrive soon!”

  Tanabe observed how everyone was being intentionally separated, with the exception of them. “Who’re we waiting for?”

  “Han of Aurahelm,” General Kur said as a silver-armored man approached.

  “He’s ranked sixth,” Tanabe said.

  “It would seem you’ve kept up on your studies of the surrounding kingdoms and the elites that occupy them. As we wait, recall each one, and explain why we have it this way.”

  “Of course. The Illuminus Empire consists of five allied kingdoms. The emperor resides in the palace at the empire’s heart. To safeguard the empire and its allies, we strategically position our forces. Elites ranked five and six are in Aurahelm, three, seven, and eleven in Thundertyde, four, twelve, and thirteen in Celestria, two, nine, and eight in Kiltzer, and the newest kingdom at the Axien Church’s request, Excalibur, houses the number one elite, along with the tenth.”

  “Correct. And each kingdom, regardless of being apart of the empire, must maintain its own laws. Only empire-wide laws, like those on taxes or serious crimes like murder, apply to all.” Noticing his grandson slouching, his voice grew stern. “Stand tall, shoulders back.”

  “Sir,” Tanabe replied, quickly readjusting his posture.

  “If you aspire to climb the ranks of the elites, remain vigilant in all aspects of the role, presentation included.”

  “Yes sir!” Glaring at his grandfather, he thought, usually my grandpa is with the emperor. After a moment, Tanabe asked, “Is the emperor not feeling well?”

  “Normally I’d be by his side, but today the elites must gather to discuss important matters,” General Kur said. “All but the top-ranked elite should be arriving shortly.”

  “Why aren’t they coming?”

  “As the number one elite, you’re given free rein to come and go as you please, not having to adhere to the empire’s wishes or missions like the rest of us, except in dire times, like war, for instance.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Knowing them, probably another adventure.”

  “I see…”

  Looking at his grandson, General Kur said, “Remind me. Why is it you wish to join the elites again?”

  “I want to help others, just like the number one elite,” Tanabe said.

  “Do you know what it means to reach the pinnacle of the elites?”

  “It means you’re the strongest, right?”

  “Listen carefully, for I’ll only say this once. That title isn’t so simple. In fact, it carries even more weight than my own. To reach the highest elite rank and become the strongest, you must also grow into a symbol of hope. Tanabe, what sort of hope do you wish to inspire?”

  “What sort of hope?” Tanabe pondered it for a while, but nothing came to mind.

  As Han arrived, General Kur said, “Your reasoning will come in time.”

  “General Kur,” Han said, bowing his head respectfully. The emblem on his armor was partly hidden by his long, thick beard, which had dark purple beaded braids.

  “I understand you got here the other night. How was the trip?” General Kur said.

  “Longer than expected. Unfortunately, my son Milu can’t handle porting as of now,” Han said, stepping aside, revealing a boy with an irritated expression.

  Tanabe’s eyes opened wide—the boy from the previous night…

  Milu, like his father, had black eyes and hair; however, his was styled in an upward spike.

  “And of the other situation?” General Kur said, softening his tone.

  Han frowned. “Just as with the other’s, she hasn’t woken up... I’m afraid her condition may never—” He paused, seeing the sadness on his son’s face. “We continue to hope for the best.”

  General Kur exchanged a glance with Milu, prompting the boy to hide behind his father.

  “You always had a way with kids,” said a woman in a violet kimono, her gray hair silky.

  She was accompanied by her granddaughter, Hanabi, who sported a pink bow that matched her eyes.

  Tanabe and Hanabi exchanged happy waves.

  “Lady Yui, a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?” General Kurr said.

  “It’s rare for snow to fall here, so I wanted Hanabi to experience it. Before the heated conversations between elites metled what’s left.”

  “Lady Yui,” Han bowed slightly. “I appreciate you visiting and checking in on Helen.”

  While they talked, Tanabe moved from his grandpa to stand next to Milu. “Hey.”

  Milu glanced at Tanabe. “Can I help you?”

  “What were you doing in the plaza last night?” Tanabe said.

  Startled, Milu swiftly covered Tanabe’s mouth in a panic.

  Hanabi watched curiously as Milu hastily dragged Tanabe away from everyone.

  By the Justice Tower fountain, Milu sighed in relief, releasing Tanabe’s mouth. “You nearly blew it!”

  I saw you climbing the palace walls past curfew. Why?” Tanabe said.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Milu replied with a smirk, eyes closed, and arms folded in confidence.

  “Grandpa—!”

  Milu’s eyes flew open, and he immediately covered Tanabe’s mouth. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But it’s a secret,” he stressed in a low tone, placing a finger to his mouth. “Promise not to tell anyone.”

  “Promise? Why can’t you just tell me?” Tanabe said.

  “Promise,” Milu said stubbornly, “or I won’t tell you.”

  After some thought, Tanabe said, “Okay, I promise”

  With a smirk, Milu leaned into Tanabe, whispering, “Meet me in the plaza, two hours past twelve.” Discreetly handing him a folded note, “and if possible, are you able to get ahold of one of these?”

  “What’re you talking about?” Hanabi interrupted, appearing beside them.

  “Tonight, we’re—”

  “What part of secret did you not get?!” Milu said.

  “Oh, right…” Tanabe said, faintly smiling.

  “I love secrets!” Hanabi said, clapping her hands together.

  “Buzz off, it’s none of your business,” Milu said.

  With her brows furrowed and cheeks puffed, Hanabi said, “Jerk!” then shoved Milu into the shallow fountain before storming off.

  Tanabe held his hand behind his head, nervously chuckling as many pointed and laughed. Since everyone had been cleared for the elites, they were the only children present at the center.

  “Jeez, what gives…” Milu said, his spiked hair pressed down slightly by the steady flow of water pouring from the fountain above.

  Tanabe checked clock, realizing the time had come. While his grandfather slept, he crept downstairs, heading for the front door.

  Quietly turning the lock, he cracked the door open, and a breeze brushed in, making the hairs on his arms rise. Closing the door softly, he looked out at the dark, looming Justice Tower.

  Quickly ducking behind a bush, he watched as two guards passed by before heading down another alleyway.

  Sprinting to the fountain, he crouched against the circular marble rim that held the shimmering water. After a shortwhile he said, “It’s already twenty minutes past the designated time. Is he not coming?”

  But then Milu appeared from behind, whispering, “Hey, sorry I’m late. You ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  “You’ll see,” Milu said with a sly smile, waving him toward the wall he’d climbed the other night.

  They took turns scaling it, but as Tanabe landed, Milu yanked him to the ground just as more guards crossed the yard.

  Milu pressed a finger to his lips as they hid within the shadows of a tree.

  Without notice, a beam cast outward, blinding Tanabe; a tiny yellow traveler muishi was responsible.

  Alerted, it ran after the guards, but Milu swiped it from the ground and swallowed it whole.

  “You ate it?!” Tanabe stressed under his breath.

  “What?” Milu said, picking his teeth with his pinky. “They’re pretty good, you should try one.”

  “I think I’ll pass…” Tanabe said, growing green in the face.

  Quietly, they circled the palace, managing to evade numerous guards.

  Peeking around a corner, Milu whispered, “There are so many guards… Let’s try this way,” he said, rushing across a wide corridor.

  While they waited for more guards to pass, Tanabe said, “They patrol these areas twenty-four seven, and there’s no way in without being spotted. What do you hope to accomplish here?”

  Peeking around a different corner, Milu sped down before finally halting at a door. “I’m not aiming to get inside. We’re going much further than that.”

  “Further?” Tanabe said.

  Entering the dimly lit room, Milu whispered, “We made it.”

  Tanabe eyed the numerous wooden barrels of wine. “Are we in the wine cellar?”

  With a snicker, Milu gestured toward a large barrel, then said, “Help me move this.”

  Tanabe sighed. “I can’t believe his big secret involves getting drunk on stolen wine…”

  “It’s underneath,” Milu whispered, using his weight to carefully tip the barrel back after climbing on top.

  “A hidden hatch?” Tanabe said.

  Together, they cautiously moved the barrel aside, careful not to make a sound.

  Opening the hatch, a suffocating darkness loomed below.

  “Down we go,” Milu said, jumping in.

  Tanabe did the same, saying, “I can’t see a thing.”

  “Did you bring it?” Milu said.

  “Yeah,” Tanabe said, reaching into his pocket.

  Milu fumbled around before grasping the rock from Tanabe. “You sure this is it?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Perfect,” Milu said. As they walked forward, he focused on the stone, stubbing his toe on the way. “Dumb box… Hey, where were you able to get one of these anyways?”

  “We’ve got plenty stored at home,” Tanabe said.

  Tanabe’s eyes widened as an eerie green light suddenly emerged, slightly illuminating the surrounding space.

  “Yes,” Milu said, thrusting his fist inward.

  The luminite pulsed as if alive, creating different shades of brightness along their faces.

  “The stone…” I didn’t expect him to actually infuse flux to reignite it.

  Milu, stone in hand, moved forward.

  “Finding my way around here was nearly impossible in the dark. I hadn’t realized just how large the palace truly was. Makes Aurahelm look like a joke,” Milu said.

  “It can be a lot,” Tanabe said.

  “I was wondering, who was that older man you were with the other day?””

  “My grandpa, but most know him as the General.”

  “G-General?!” Milu said, taking a step back. “Of the Illuminus Empire?”

  “That’s right,” Tanabe nodded.

  “You’re not going to sell me out, are you?” Milu said, almost butting heads with Tanabe.

  “Sell out?” Tanabe said, sweat trickling down his forward. “No, of course not.”

  “Good,” Milu said, continuing around a corner.

  “When did you learn how to use flux force?”

  “Found it!” Milu said.

  By the wall stood a rusty metal pod, its body fused with roots intertwined with machinery.

  “A port?“ Tanabe said, his hand resting on the cold metal. These models were decommissioned some time ago. How did you know it was here?”

  “I know a guy,” Milu smirked, wiping a bit of snot from under his nose. “Help me up,” he said.

  Tanabe lifted Milu higher, saying, “It’s possible this port is out of commission.”

  “We won’t know until we try,” Milu said. Milu inserted the stone into the machine’s top slot and then jumped down. “Now we wait,” he said, brushing dust from his hands.

  “Maybe we should head back. It doesn’t seem to be working.”

  “Not quite yet,” said Milu, his foot tapping impatiently. “Come on…”

  “Ports need another in order to stabilize, with just us—” Suddenly, the roots fused with the machine came to life as energy from the glowing stone flowed through them, restoring their color and thickening. “It’s working,” Tanabe said in awe.

  As the port’s internal mechanisms reactivated, parts clicked, and beams shot from every angle inside the pod’s hollowed section, forming a portal.

  “Yes!” Milu said, jumping into the air triumphantly. “Alright, let’s get going.” He felt a slight jerk back as a hand grasped his wrist, preventing him from moving forward.

  Tanabe hesitated, loosened his grip, and said, “Porting is permitted for Elites only, and those with special accesses. We’re breaking the law.”

  “Live a little, my secret is on the other side,” Milu said, slipping from Tanabe’s grasp as he ran into the portal.

  Tanabe sighed, “What would grandpa say....” Shortly after, he ventured through the portal.