The vehicle came to a halt with a groan of strained suspension and the soft hiss of hydraulics, its heavy frame settling into place with the reluctant grace of something long accustomed to battle. Before them loomed a structure unlike anything Kael had ever seen — not a building in the conventional sense, but a towering monolith of steel and stone, its surfaces gleaming dully under a distorted, almost liquid light. It felt alive, as if it breathed through the exhaust vents and watched through the thin, slit-like windows that reminded Kael of a predator waiting to pounce.

  Kael stepped out slowly, his legs still trembling beneath him, his steps unsteady, as though the very ground resisted his movement. An eerie silence pressed in around him, and with every breath, his lungs drew in air that felt too heavy, too metallic, like he was inhaling the remnants of old machinery and forgotten storms.

  No sooner had his foot touched the earth than the scarred man’s voice cut through the stillness, low and commanding, like a blade drawn across stone.

  “Hand,” the man said, extending a rough, calloused palm without elaboration.

  Kael instinctively parted his lips to ask “Why?”, but the question died before it could form, strangled by memory—the memory of that voice, of that gaze that could freeze marrow. Wordlessly, like a child chastised before speaking out of turn, he lifted his trembling hand—thin, scraped from earlier, and far too fragile next to the ironclad grip waiting for it.

  Without ceremony, the man snapped a mechanical bracelet onto his wrist. It clicked into place with a finality that made Kael flinch. The metal bit into his skin, cold and unyielding, and for a second, he felt more like an animal being tagged than a person. A soft blue light blinked to life on the device, pulsed once, then flickered into a sterile white before disappearing into silence.

  “Listen carefully,” the man said, his tone sharpening like a drill sergeant barking orders. “Stay close. If you fall behind, you’re on your own. Don’t look around, don’t talk to anyone. If someone asks you something, you say nothing. If someone calls your name, do not turn around. You follow only me. Understand?”

  Each word dropped like iron weights into Kael’s chest, and though they were instructions, they felt more like commandments—unyielding, final, immutable. He blinked rapidly, trying to process the flood of new fears that followed each phrase, but found no space for protest. He nodded faintly, his mouth dry, his eyes wide with silent dread.

  Only then did he realize how close the man was standing—close enough that Kael could smell the faint metallic tang on his skin, mixed with oil and something darker, something primal. Behind him, the woman and the silent man stood like sentinels, their presence not just accompanying but enclosing him, forming a barrier between him and everything else, as if protecting—or perhaps restraining—something dangerous.

  Ahead, the entrance yawned open like the mouth of some long-dead beast, and as they passed beneath its shadow, the outside world faded behind them. The sounds changed—dulled and stretched into an unnatural hush, like they’d stepped underwater. Inside, the corridors gleamed with cold, clinical light that reminded Kael of surgical rooms and interrogation cells. The walls were too smooth, the reflections too perfect, showing warped silhouettes of their bodies as they moved.

  Figures stood along the walls—dozens of them—dressed in matching black uniforms, eyes forward, hands clasped behind their backs. Not one moved, not one spoke. Their presence was oppressive, like walking through a corridor of statues that might come to life the moment your back was turned.

  Kael followed silently, as instructed, each step echoing off the floor in a rhythm that felt too loud in the suffocating stillness. His mind raced, spinning through endless loops of panic and disbelief. Why me? What is this place? Who are they? The questions were so many they overlapped, crushing each other, leaving only a single coherent emotion in their wake—fear.

  Not the sharp, quick fear of danger, but the slow, corrosive kind that eats away at your certainty, that whispers nothing will ever be normal again.

  The building smelled like steel and electricity, with a faint trace of ozone, as if a storm had passed through moments before. And beneath it all, Kael could feel something else—something humming beneath the floor, vibrating faintly in his bones. It wasn’t sound. It was... presence. As if the place itself was watching, waiting, evaluating.

  With every step, he felt himself peeling away from the life he had known—from the familiar texture of his student apartment, the smell of old books and dusty blankets, the chatter of friends over cheap drinks. That world was slipping from his grasp, fading like a photograph left too long in the sun.

  He stared ahead, fixated on the scarred man’s back, using it like an anchor, a point of gravity that kept him from floating into madness. And then, unexpectedly, the man turned slightly, his eyes meeting Kael’s for the briefest moment.

  And in that moment, Kael thought—He sees something in me. Something I don’t understand yet. Something I’m not ready for.

  But ready or not, he had already stepped through the threshold.

  They passed through the first floor, which resembled a massive underground hangar, filled with an atmosphere of strict order and unnerving tension — a place seemingly carved out of the future, where there was no room for coincidence or weakness. Everywhere stood figures — soldiers clad in heavy armored suits, faces hidden behind helmets, armed as though preparing to storm hell itself. They didn’t move, didn’t speak, but watched — and Kael felt those stares like a physical touch, sticky and oppressive, as though invisible hands wrapped around him, seeping into his skin. It seemed each of them saw him as a threat, an anomaly, a mistake, and that silent judgment gnawed at his nerves, stripping away the last shreds of composure.

  Instinctively, he drew closer to the man with the scar, feeling his body lean toward the very person he’d once desperately wanted to flee from. But there was something immovable, almost monolithic in the man's presence — as if the air itself parted before him, clearing a narrow path of safety. Their escorts moved with a synchronized precision, like a battle unit in motion, and Kael had to quicken his pace, nearly breaking into a jog, just to keep up. They moved as a single entity, a well-oiled machine, and Kael — a foreign cog — strained to match their unspoken rhythm.

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  Climbing a metal staircase that groaned under the weight of their boots, they reached the second floor, where a long corridor stretched endlessly forward, its walls paneled with some dull gray alloy that hummed underfoot, resonating with their steps. At the end stood a checkpoint desk, manned — or rather guarded — by a robot embedded into the floor, its torso unmoving and its glowing blue eyes scanning with a cold, mechanical detachment.

  — Name? — it asked, its voice flat and precise, like a metronome that tolerated no delay.

  — Joseph Elijah Cross, — the scarred man answered, each syllable delivered like a passcode, sharp and deliberate, as though his name alone could open vaults sealed for centuries.

  The robot’s sensor flickered green, accepting the input, and a set of massive metal doors beside them groaned open with a reluctant screech, revealing something beyond — something far greater and stranger than anything Kael could have imagined.

  Inside, a sterile light spilled across the floor, not merely illuminating but dissecting every detail in its path. Transparent walls divided the space into glass chambers — observation rooms, containment cells — and behind them, bizarre scenes unfolded. People in white coats, their faces weary with knowledge and sleepless nights, bustled between consoles. Robots assisted them, and within the glass enclosures were beings that Kael could hardly believe were real.

  He walked, entranced, wide-eyed, each step slower than the last, absorbing every surreal image with growing dread and awe. One cell housed a creature that looked like a fusion of insect and plant; another held a vaguely human figure with elongated limbs and a lipless mouth, murmuring to itself in some soundless prayer.

  Kael forgot the rules. He forgot his fear. He forgot his fragility. He slowed, hypnotized by what surrounded him, until his gaze met something that snapped him violently out of his daze.

  Behind one of the glass walls, half-lit and shrouded in shadow, was a shape — not a form, really, but a mass — something thick and oily, like living tar, its body pulsing with slow, unnatural movement. Tendrils twitched around it, and atop it, or perhaps within it, was something like a head, translucent and throbbing, inside which shined two gleaming, predatory eyes.

  And those eyes found Kael.

  The moment they locked, the creature sprang forward with terrifying speed. Kael flinched as it slammed against the glass, tendrils wrapping around the surface. It began battering its gelatinous head against the wall, right where he stood frozen in shock, too terrified even to scream.

  Scientists shouted in alarm, rushing to controls, while sleek, angular robots extended from the walls, grappling the creature’s limbs. But it didn’t stop. It hammered the glass again and again, fury made flesh, until the man with the scar stepped in front of Kael, blocking him from the creature’s view.

  Instantly, the creature ceased its assault, as if the man’s presence alone stilled its rage. It pressed lightly against the glass, head tilting, watching — but no longer attacking.

  Kael, still trembling, breath shallow, knees unsteady, might have collapsed had the man not been there. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shatter his ribs. He couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.

  The scarred man slowly turned to him, his gaze heavy and grim — not angry, but filled with cold inevitability, like a storm on the horizon that no one could outrun.

  — I told you not to look around, — he said, voice low and rough, carrying a weight that hinted at consequences far worse than a cracked glass panel.

  — I’m sorry... — Kael whispered, barely audible, voice shaking like a leaf in the wind, still unable to believe what he had just witnessed.

  A few seconds later, as if the system itself deemed it necessary to intervene, a robot rolled up to them with a hum and a series of beeps — a strange, eerily whimsical creature on a single massive wheel, with a tall pole-like neck supporting a flat monitor that resembled a child’s drawing of a face. Instead of eyes and a mouth, animated Xs, Os, and other symbols flickered in constant succession, trying to convey emotion. Around its cylindrical body spun flexible metallic tendrils, like those of an octopus fused with a vending machine.

  — What the hell is going on here?! — its voice rang out, metallic in nature, but deliberately playful, almost clown-like, as if it had been designed not just to perform tasks, but to amuse those long past the point of laughter. Its screen displayed an angry cartoonish face, a grotesque mockery of rage like a theatre mask of tragedy. But the moment it spotted their group — especially the man with the scar — the expression shifted to exaggerated surprise: wide round eyes bulging out, and a mouth forming a dramatic “O.”

  — What the hell?! — it blurted out again, seemingly unable to believe what it saw, and began circling them, its mechanical limbs twitching, nearly brushing the walls and ceiling.

  When its sensors locked onto Kael, the animated eyes narrowed into suspicion, and the mouth gaped in something resembling digital shock.

  — Joseph, fucking, Cross! You actually got him?! You really did?! — the robot cackled, its laughter high-pitched and unhinged, sounding not so much joyful as disturbingly manic — as if a digital jester were entertaining a court of madmen.

  One of its appendages suddenly darted toward Kael’s face. The boy flinched instinctively, breath catching in his throat, heart hammering against his ribs, unsure whether to expect a touch, a jab, or a blow — but before the metallic limb could close the gap, a heavy hand crashed down on it with a metallic clang. Joe had struck it away with cold precision.

  — Ouch! What a brute, — the robot said, feigning hurt. The screen displayed a pouty face, brows arched in theatrical dismay.

  — Fine, follow me. Just don’t agitate my critters again. They’re twitchy. Just like me.

  Joe didn’t bother replying, merely cast a sharp glance toward Kael — brief but piercing, like a blade turned flat. It needed no words. The message was clear. Kael nodded quickly, chastened and quiet, his face burning with shame, feeling like a child caught red-handed.

  They followed the robot toward the elevator. The doors opened with mechanical efficiency, and the cabin began to glide upward. Kael felt the weightlessness in his gut, not just from the motion, but from the growing realization that he was sinking deeper into a world he didn’t understand — one that terrified him and fascinated him in equal measure.

  The fourth floor opened up like another reality. Here, the light was low and warm, the atmosphere cloaked in a strange stillness. Shelves of books towered over them, orderly and ancient-looking, and the air was filled with the scent of paper, dust, and something like pine resin. It smelled like memory. Like forgotten time. It felt less like a research facility and more like a temple built for thought.

  Kael struggled not to look around. Everything in him wanted to explore — to let his gaze wander across the strange devices, the glass jars, the tattered scrolls — but he remembered the chaos that followed his last mistake. Instead, he stayed near Joe, close enough to feel the man’s presence like a barrier between him and the unknown.

  Meanwhile, the robot disappeared behind a row of shelves, producing clattering sounds — a crash, a loud thump, some jingling, followed by what sounded disturbingly like a sneeze, and then a humming tune, off-key but persistent. One of the women in their group sighed and rolled her eyes with tired amusement. It was the first time Kael saw any of them express something close to human weariness, and oddly, it made him feel a bit less alone.

  The tension that had clenched around them like a vise began to loosen, just a little. Joe stood with his arms crossed, eyes down, his posture calm and patient, like a man who had learned that waiting was sometimes the only weapon left. The other two casually browsed nearby bookshelves, occasionally glancing around, their alertness giving way to mild curiosity. Kael could’ve relaxed too, maybe — if not for the echoing chaos still pounding in his chest, making it impossible to breathe normally, to think clearly. So he chose to stand still, hands clenched, feet firm, eyes down.

  Eventually, the robot reappeared, dragging an awkward, heavy-looking box toward the center of the room.

  — Over here, — it chirped, gesturing toward a massive table. It pulled a scroll from the box and unfurled it across the surface. At first glance, the paper looked blank — untouched, pristine — but as they gathered around, a glowing projection shimmered into life above it, rotating slowly like a dream.

  Floating above the table was a world — not a drawing, not a map, but a living, pulsing model. Cities gleamed with spires of light, rivers crawled like glass serpents, trains zipped along invisible tracks, and airships the size of towers drifted through the sky. The details were uncanny — every structure precise, every motion fluid, every element alive.

  Kael could barely breathe. He had never seen anything like it. It wasn’t just a map — it was a living window into another existence, and he felt as if he stood at the edge of something vast, unknowable, and irreversible.

  — The Map of the Eagles, — the robot said proudly, like a schoolboy presenting his final project. — Just as we agreed.

  He looked at Joe with an almost childish eagerness, as though awaiting praise. But Joe only leaned forward, bracing himself against the table, eyes scanning every inch of the map with the sharp focus of a man who knew that even wonders could hide threats.