The morning light hit the new office windows at a low angle, spilling gold across rows of rolled-up plans and stacks of renderings. A smell of fresh paint still lingered from the recent refurbishment.
Lucas stood at the center table, hands resting on a pair of printed concept sheets — the finalized vision for Aetherion – Flight Beyond Gods.
Months of planning had led to this:
The land was his. The city had signed the papers.
Eleven new hectares, officially zoned for expansion.
He looked at the render again — a sweeping valley crossed by bridges and water, the coaster track weaving through towers and stone arches, looping close enough to touch. Every curve had meaning. Every rise, every drop told part of the story.
Emma entered quietly, a folder in her hand. "It's official," she said, her voice calm but bright. "The purchase contracts cleared this morning. The city's final approval came through at nine."
Lucas didn't speak for a moment. He just let the words settle.
It was done.
"Then it starts now," he said finally.
He took the folder from her, glanced through the signatures, then set it aside.
"Send both copies," he said. "One to the finance department, one to Walter. He'll want to see it in ink."
Emma smiled. "Already sent."
He turned back to the render on the table. "Then it's time."
She tilted her head. "Time for what?"
"For the letters."
---
Two hours later, the office was quiet except for the tapping of keys.
Lucas leaned over his laptop, writing two separate messages — both nearly identical, both starting the same way.
---
Subject: Collaboration Inquiry – Next-Generation Multi-Launch Coaster
Dear [Name],
My name is Lucas Vermeer, director of Elysion Park in Gronau. Over the past years, we've worked on reshaping this park from a local destination into a growing, story-driven world. Our next step is larger than anything we've done before.
We are developing a fully integrated terrain coaster — one that combines narrative, architectural design, and engineering into a single living structure. The project, titled "Aetherion – Flight Beyond Gods," aims to redefine how a coaster feels and how it looks within its environment.
This isn't about records. It's about emotion, speed, and scale. We want guests to believe they are part of something alive — a machine and a landscape breathing together.
The specifications are demanding:
– Multi-launch system, terrain-based layout
– Approx. 1,200 meters total track length
– Inversions integrated naturally within the terrain
– Top speed around 110 km/h
– Combined indoor/outdoor sequence
– High-capacity dual-station operation
– Artistic theming integration from the first meter of track to the last brake run
I am reaching out to you because your company has the technical expertise and creative capacity to make this possible. We're looking for more than a manufacturer. We're looking for a partner who shares the ambition to build the most thematically advanced coaster in the world.
We'll present full terrain scans and layout concepts in November. Until then, I would appreciate your initial thoughts on feasibility and interest.
Sincerely,
Lucas Vermeer
Director – Elysion Park
---
He sent the first message to Vekoma Rides Manufacturing, then took a deep breath before sending the second to Intamin Amusement Rides.
Schaan, Switzerland — October 2018
The office was still quiet. Only the hum of computers and the sound of coffee being poured.
Marco Weiss had just sat down when a new message flashed across his screen.
Subject: Aetherion – Flight Beyond Gods (Elysion Park)
He frowned, clicked, and began to read.
The words were sharp, confident, almost poetic for a technical proposal. Multi-launch terrain coaster. Inversions hidden inside architecture. Dual station for capacity.
He scrolled to the end and stopped at the name.
Lucas Vermeer.
Marco smiled a little. "Well, I'll be damned," he murmured.
From the next desk, Elena Schneider, one of the design engineers, looked up.
"What is it?"
"Remember Serpent's Run? The family launch we built in Germany last year?"
"Yeah, the little green one in that jungle zone?"
"That's the guy. He just sent us something new."
She rolled over with her chair, curiosity already showing. "What's he planning now?"
Marco tapped the attachment. The screen brightened.
A digital render unfolded — a wide valley bathed in golden light, bridges of bronze stone spanning a river, and a thin line of track weaving between towers like a moving thread. It wasn't a photo. It was a dream in progress.
Elena stared for a long second. "That's… beautiful."
Another engineer, David, leaned closer. "Wait, that's the same Lucas? The small park owner?"
Marco nodded. "Seems he's not that small anymore."
They zoomed in on the details — curved bridges shaped to hide launch sections, terrain dips built for pacing, reflection pools under support columns.
It was clever. Too clever for a regional park.
"He's thinking like us now," David said quietly.
"Not like us," Marco replied. "He's thinking like someone who wants to go further."
Elena smiled. "Do you think he can actually pull it off?"
Marco set the tablet down. "He pulled off Serpent's Run with a third of this budget and not a single delay. And look at that theming. The guy understands flow, perspective, lighting. If he says he can, he will."
He straightened up, the spark in his eyes impossible to miss.
"Send this to R&D," he told Elena. "Tell them to prepare a triple-launch terrain concept — something elegant, not brute force. I want to talk to him next week."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're sure already?"
Marco smiled. "We built his first success. Now he's inviting us to build his masterpiece. That's not an offer you ignore."
Elena grinned. "Feels like we just got the first look at something people will talk about for years."
"Exactly," Marco said softly, watching the render fade back to the desktop. "This isn't a new ride. It's a statement."
The room went quiet again — but it was the kind of silence that carried energy, the kind that meant everyone knew something big had just started.
Vlodrop, Netherlands — October 2018
The smell of coffee hung in the small open office.
It was one of those quiet mornings when nothing surprising usually happened — until Tom Verbeek, a junior design assistant, frowned at a new email that had just appeared in his inbox.
Subject: Aetherion – Flight Beyond Gods (Elysion Park)
He clicked it without thinking. A few lines in, his brows went up.
"Stefan," he called out. "You might want to see this."
Across the room, Stefan de Bruin, head of sales and project coordination, looked up from his laptop. "Another budget coaster request?"
Tom shook his head. "Not really."
That was enough to make Stefan get up. He walked over, mug in hand, and leaned over Tom's shoulder.
At first, he didn't say anything. He just read.
The writing was short, clear, confident — no marketing talk, no fluff.
It was a director speaking directly to engineers. Someone who knew what he wanted.
Then he saw the specs.
A multi-launch terrain coaster. 1,200 meters of track. Inversions. Full thematic integration.
And at the bottom — a name.
Lucas Vermeer.
Stefan tilted his head. "Dutch name."
"Yeah," Tom said. "And the park's in Germany. Right near the border."
Stefan nodded slowly, curiosity forming behind his calm expression. "Interesting."
Tom scrolled down to the attachment and opened it.
The screen filled with a high-resolution render — golden light over a valley, steel track curling through arches and towers, rivers glinting below. Everything looked connected: the landscape, the architecture, even the air.
For a long second, nobody spoke.
From the next desk, Romy Peeters, senior engineer, leaned in. "That's… not a corporate pitch. That's an artist."
Stefan smiled faintly. "He built a small family launch with Intamin last year. Serpent's Run, I think it was called."
"Oh, the one in that jungle-themed area?"
"Exactly."
Romy nodded slowly. "So that's the same guy? From a family coaster to this?"
Tom grinned. "That's one hell of a level-up."
They zoomed in on the image. The details were ridiculous — carved façades around the track, shadow patterns falling across bridges, even small walkways that seemed designed for guests to follow the coaster's story visually.
"This isn't a normal layout," Romy said quietly. "It's built like an experience."
Stefan folded his arms, thinking. "You know what's strange? He's not asking to break speed records. He's asking for emotion. 'A landscape breathing with the machine.' That line — that's what he wrote."
Tom smirked. "Kinda poetic for a coaster guy."
"Or visionary," Romy said.
Stefan nodded. "Maybe both."
He tapped the side of the screen. "All right. Let's do this properly. Check the budget range he mentioned — it's high, which means he's serious. We'll start a design study. I want two drafts by next week. One focused on smoothness, one on intensity. Let's see which fits the tone."
Tom blinked. "We're really taking this?"
Stefan grinned. "Why wouldn't we? If he can dream it, we can build it. And if a Dutch designer wants to change the industry, it might as well happen here, in Vlodrop."
Romy laughed softly. "Never thought I'd say this, but this guy might actually make us sweat."
Stefan turned back toward his desk. "Good. It's about time we did."
As he sat down, the room fell into that quiet, charged rhythm of new ideas starting to move.
Somewhere in Germany, a park director had sent out a dream —
and in this small Dutch office, that dream had just started to take shape.
Late October 2018 – Online
It began with a fence.
A new line of steel panels appeared almost overnight, stretching far beyond the dark-ride construction site behind Explorer's Landing.
That area had always been off-limits — just grass, trees, and an old service road that curved toward the forest.
Now it was sealed.
> User "RideScoutDE":
"Anyone notice the new fencing behind the dark-ride building? That's all fresh land. Something big's coming."
At first, most people dismissed it. Maybe new backstage storage.
Then someone checked the municipal website.
> User "CoasterTomNL":
"Public zoning notice filed in Gronau. Eleven hectares of newly purchased land.
Purpose listed as: 'Entertainment Development Area – Sky Frontier.'"
That single post changed everything.
Within hours, screenshots spread across forums, Reddit, and Discord servers.
Fans marked the new borders on Google Earth, tracing the shape of the property — a wide open stretch of land directly connected to Explorer's Landing, nearly doubling the park's size.
"This isn't an expansion," one post read. "It's an entirely new world."
Someone dug up the official PDF.
No concept art, no renderings, but the language was clear:
'Multi-attraction zone with new infrastructure and terrain modification.'
And then the number that made everyone stop scrolling:
€ 93 400 000.
> "That can't be right."
"That's bigger than Movie Park's last three projects combined."
"How does a park this size afford that?"
The disbelief only fueled the hype.
Fan artists began uploading their own ideas — sprawling airship ports, waterfalls cutting through cliffs, copper bridges leading toward the clouds.
Each post looked more ambitious than the last.
Theme-park news sites joined in:
> "Elysion Park Prepares Massive New Land Behind Explorer's Landing – Working Title 'Sky Frontier.'"
"Could This Be Europe's Next Major Coaster Destination?"
Even the Gronau Echo ran a small headline:
"Elysion Park Purchases 11 Hectares for New Development Zone."
In a single week, the park that had once gone unnoticed was suddenly at the center of every conversation.
Inside his office, Lucas scrolled through fan renders on his laptop.
One showed copper towers rising from a misty valley, a coaster weaving through waterfalls.
Not accurate, but close in spirit.
He smiled, closing the screen.
"Let them dream," he said quietly.
Beyond the dark-ride façade and the fresh fences, the cleared ground stretched toward the horizon.
It wasn't rumor anymore.
It was the beginning of something that would change the park forever.