Amsterdam Branch, Netherlands.
The moment we stepped through the shimmer, the air turned crisp, cooler, and slightly damp with the moisture of a European autumn night. The scent of rain mixed with canal water, cobblestone streets, and the soft hum of distant nightlife. Dim orange street lamps lit up narrow alleys and glistened off the wet bricks like stars trapped in a maze.
We were in a dark alleyway. Not exactly welcoming, but also not surprising. Secret portals from other worlds didn't usually drop you into five-star hotel lobbies. A long, sleek black limousine sat waiting for us, its engine purring quietly like some luxury beast. The driver, dressed in a tailored gray suit and black gloves, bowed his head with solemn grace before opening the door for us.
Phaser stepped in first, followed by golden girl, still clinging to him like they were genetically attached. Dryad gave me a nudge and grinned with her usual mischief before sliding in next. I sighed, said a quick goodbye to my peace of mind, and got in last.
The interior of the limo was a whole experience. Plush black seats, soft lighting built into the ceiling, a table in the center with chilled glasses of sparkling something that smelled like honey and herbs. There was even soft instrumental music playing, something orchestral with a touch of melancholy.
As the limo pulled onto the slick streets of Amsterdam, a strange, beautiful city unfolded outside the tinted windows. The ancient bones of European architecture fused seamlessly with the futuristic tech of the Marimus Faction's influence. Floating digital signs in Dutch and English, glowing pathway indicators over the cobbles, silent electric vehicles hovering a few inches above the roads. Bicycles still zipped past, of course. Huh. Some things never changed.
And then the golden woman finally decided to speak directly to me. She tilted her head, her golden dress shimmering faintly under the limo lights.
"Well, I suppose I should introduce myself properly. Argemene Abrivers. Portal-class Ennéa Flux Elite. Overseer of all Cradlepoint transitions and Cross-Eresnae travel."
The way she said Abrivers made it sound French somehow, with the 's' being silent.
"Nice to meet you," I said, my tone flat but polite.
She smiled, still gorgeous, still fake.
"I'm one of the Portal Quintuplets. We're each stationed in a different Eresnae, but I handle the Reversal Cradlepoint personally. Which means, technically, I brought you here."
"So portal creation… that's your Flux?"
"Correct. Well, one of its forms. My brothers and sisters each specialize in a variation. Mine's stabilization and real-time construction. In a place like RCP, with its time fractures and gravity reversals, that's the hardest job of all. So you're welcome."
I could hear her thoughts immediately.
Let's see if the glorified tour girl can handle being in a room with actual power. She doesn't even have training. This will be fun.
I clenched my fists in my lap and forced my lips to stay neutral. This was getting harder.
Look at her pretending like she belongs. I don't care what Gamma sees in her. Probably a phase. Or guilt. I've seen prettier Elites. And what is that dress? Custom-fitted to show off her thighs, obviously. Desperate.
I breathed in through my nose and glanced at Dryad. She met my eyes briefly, raising a brow. I knew she knew what was happening. The Flux she mentioned—the one that stops others from sensing secrets—must've blocked Argemene from realizing I could read her like an open diary being screamed into a megaphone.
And this diary was mean.
"So," Argemene continued, crossing her legs and running her hand down Phaser's arm as if to remind us both he was hers—for the evening, at least—"you're from Singapore, right? Or what's left of it."
"No, Europe. I was in Singapore when the First Thauma hit. Couldn't leave."
Oh, so tragic. Everyone has a sob story. Try surviving being born in the Abrivers line and not being wanted. Oh wait—that's me. Not her. She just lost a few parents. Boo hoo.
I blinked rapidly. Was this real? Did she not hear herself?
Phaser was dead silent beside her, arms crossed, multicolored eyes watching the city pass outside. I didn't even know if he was listening or just letting her drone on while planning seventeen possible exit strategies in his head. He probably was.
"So," Argemene said with mock interest, "what does your Flux do again? You're an Ennéa now, right? That's kind of a big jump for a tour guide."
I bet it's something passive. Maybe luck-based. Nothing offensive. She doesn't have the energy for something deadly. She's too soft.
"Alteration," I said plainly. "First Awakening. The god-touched type."
That actually shut her up for a second. Her lips froze mid-smile. Dryad smirked. Phaser finally shifted his gaze to me, just slightly. Argemene laughed lightly.
"How... exotic."
She's lying. No way she's god-touched. Not unless she knows something she shouldn't. What did Gamma see in her? I've been training since I was ten. I earned my rank. She tripped into it.
I turned toward the window to hide the emotion that tried to rise. I wasn't angry. Not quite.
It was… complicated. I was so used to being ignored, unseen. Now I was at the center of something I didn't understand, with people who saw me as either a threat or a placeholder.
Dryad gently nudged my foot under the seat.
"You doing okay?"
I nodded once. "Just soaking it in."
Argemene clapped once, like a teacher concluding a lecture.
"Well! You'll love the venue. The Concord Discussion is very formal. Tons of ancient ceremony. Dress code's enforced, security's heavier than ever. Lots of whispers lately about Thauma cultists trying to infiltrate events like this."
"Cultists?"
She doesn't even know that? Gods, she's so green it's painful.
"Mmhmm," she replied. "You'll be fine. As long as you stay close to us."
I didn't respond because the only thing louder than her voice was her thoughts. And the only thing more dangerous than what she was saying… was what she wasn't.
The limousine pulled up to the curb in front of the Maerlowy Hotel, and for a second, I genuinely thought we had taken a wrong turn and crashed someone's movie premiere. Bright camera flashes lit up the night like gunfire. Paparazzi were lined up on both sides of the entrance, their elbows battling for dominance behind velvet ropes. A red carpet—an actual damn red carpet—stretched up the stairs to the arched doors, where a glowing silver logo rotated in the air like some elite secret society emblem.
What the actual hell?
"Okay, what is this?"
Phaser's voice cut through the buzz of reporters outside.
"You didn't think we weren't celebrities, did you?"
He turned to look at me with that twisted, half-wicked grin of his. His multicolored eyes flickered like kaleidoscopes, mischief and pride laced into the expression.
"This is the Concord Discussion. It's basically a movie premiere. Politicians, Flux elites, Royals, scientists, everybody's watching. They televise and broadcast it into both worlds. Welcome to the circus."
Argemene smirked beside him like this was her natural habitat. Dryad was already laughing quietly beside me, like she had wanted this reaction.
"Oh, and we're staying here for a few days, not just the night. You'll love the top-floor suites. Try not to melt when you see the jacuzzi."
My stomach tried to twist itself into a pretzel as the limo door clicked open, and a wave of roaring noise from the crowd outside slammed into us.
Dryad stepped out first, graceful and regal in her green gown, immediately met with camera flashes and cries of her code name. Phaser followed next, getting full-blown cheers and some kind of chant. Argemene took her time, milking it, posing with her hand on his chest like some goddess of possessiveness.
And then it was my turn.
I inhaled deeply, pushed every ounce of instinct to flee way, way down, and stepped out.
The lights hit me like a thousand strobe bombs. Every camera turned. I could hear confused murmurs.
"Who is she?"
"No one knows her, right?"
"Is she with Lord Phaser or the Abrivers women?"
The walk up the carpet was the longest two minutes of my life. My heels clicked against the carpet and the air felt colder than it was because I knew every step, every blink, was being captured. Argemene was ahead of me, walking like this was her birthright. Dryad threw me a wink over her shoulder. And Phaser? He hadn't looked back once.
I walked beside the Abrivers, one of the nine most powerful families across two realities. And I still didn't even know who the hell I really was supposed to be.
I barely kept my chin up. Every instinct screamed at me to slouch, hide or vanish. But I didn't. Not in front of them. Not on this red carpet.
Some interviewer shouted a question about the Syntara aftermath, and Phaser answered with his usual clipped indifference. Argemene waved like she was royalty. And me? I just kept walking, heart pounding like a war drum.
I hadn't really cared much about the Concord Discussion when I was a tour guide. It was another "big event for big people" thing. Important, sure. But it never felt real. My best friend Mira, though? She was obsessed. She knew every Concord name, every political drama, every speech that ever stirred a crowd. She would've died to be here. If she was here...
No. I stopped the thought cold.
Mira was gone. Lost during the fallout like most of my past.
I brushed it aside like a fly on my shoulder and followed the rest into the glittering lobby of the hotel, wondering if the real performance hadn't even started yet.