[Well, others are being called to pastoral ministry or the prophetic ministry but guess what I have been called into. The WRITING ministry, so I decided to run. And turn in a deaf ears,it wasn't easy at all. I felt, I wasn't gifted in this area. it was hard ,because it was so easy to have an idea of what to write but anytime I pick up the pen the locust ,it's up there and I automatically becomes penless, sorry it's speechless. So I decided to just give up, so I ran and run, procrastinated as well. I'm now stuck on a cliff,it's either for me to run and fall or let Him be glorified.I guess I made a decision, that's why I'm here so ya all have to forgive my cruel write up. hahaha,🥰🤣🤣🤣🤣.]
They say curiosity kills the cat—but sometimes it just changes everything.
It all began when John, Thecla, and little Anne went on vacation with their parents to Shinshigan, a famous and glittering city in Pistarol. Many of the world's wealthy and celebrated—actors, politicians, business magnates—spent their holidays there. Shinshigan was known for its stunning architecture and its devotion to preserving its ancient civilization.
At the center of that devotion stood Shomon Hotel, once the palace of a legendary king named Herman. His reign, though not the most powerful, was remembered for its prosperity and grandeur. When Shinshigan's people decided to honor their history, they transformed the old palace into a luxurious hotel—its walls still whispering the echoes of a forgotten kingdom.
The Joey family—six in all, though one was missing—set out for a long-awaited vacation. Jonathan, the eldest, was away studying in Jakar, so the remaining five rode together in their silver Rolls Royce, arguing as usual.
"Hey," Anne piped up from the back seat, "I'm the light of the world."
Her siblings turned to stare at her, mouths half open.
"And so what?" Thecla rolled her dark eyes, too tired to spar with her sister's theatrics.
John grinned. "If you're the light of the world, what are we then?"
Anne pouted. "I don't care."
Their parents ignored the chatter. Mr. Joey focused on the bright, sunlit road—its smooth surface gleaming with golden hues that shimmered into faint purple when the light shifted. The Sunday traffic was light, and the car's radio hummed with a gospel song: Christ in Me, My Identity. Even that couldn't calm the noise in the back seat.
"I said I'm the light, not you!" Anne insisted.
Mrs. Joey glanced back, shaking her head. "These children have no worries at all," she muttered. "Meanwhile we're thinking about bills."
Her husband chuckled softly. Though the couple were successful business partners—owners of Joey Enterprise in Bullock—they valued time with their children. This vacation was proof of that.
The sunlight painted them in soft hues. Thecla, nineteen, honey-skinned and graceful, stared out the window. Her hair fluttered in the breeze like a dark halo. John, seventeen, tall and fair, leaned comfortably beside her, his features sharp and kind. And Anne—eight years old, tiny and mischievous—rested against Thecla's arm, her ebony skin glowing with an almost ethereal sheen.
"We're all lights," John said finally, with mock solemnity.
"No way!" Anne shot back. "Only me."
"The Bible says we all are," he teased.
"Whatever," Thecla muttered.
Anne's eyes gleamed. "Say it, Thecla. Say I'm the light."
"Sure," her sister sighed. "You're the light."
"Say it out loud."
Thecla groaned and pinched her sister's cheek. "You're becoming a menace, you know that?"
Anne only giggled. Recently she had developed a strange habit—barging into Thecla's room at night, shining a flashlight into her face, shouting, "See? I'm the light! I shine in the darkness!" before running off laughing.
"You're impossible," Thecla would yell, as the little girl scampered away to play the same prank on John.
Their father's voice interrupted the memory. "We're here. Behave yourselves."
The car rolled to a stop before Shomon Hotel—a palace reborn. John carried Anne's small suitcase while a uniformed chauffeur took the car keys from Mr. Joey with a deep bow.
"Welcome to Shomon," the chauffeur said. "We hope you enjoy your stay."
Inside, the hotel was dazzling. The walls gleamed with gold and inlaid gems—onyx, topaz, turquoise, even what looked like adamantium and palladium. Ancient carvings spiraled across the columns, their meanings lost to time. The floor reflected every step like a pool of living glass. The air itself shimmered faintly, as if charged with unseen energy.
At the reception desk, a beautiful woman greeted them. "Welcome to Shomon. How may I assist you?"
"We're the Joeys," said Mrs. Joey. "We booked a reservation for this spring."
"One moment," the receptionist smiled, tapping her laptop. Thecla noticed something strange—everyone in the lobby, staff and guests alike, wore identical dark shades. Even the receptionist's stylish glasses seemed too deliberate, too uniform.
The receptionist looked up again. "Yes, your suite is ready. Here's your key—please keep it safe." She handed over a sleek metallic card, her smile bright and oddly fixed.
"Before you go," she added, reaching beneath the counter, "please accept these." She placed a small velvet box before them. Inside were five pairs of silver-rimmed glasses.
"What's this?" Mr. Joey asked.
"A special feature of our hotel," she said cheerfully. "High-grade 5D vision glasses, invented by EnTop scientists. They enhance your experience here—make your stay more... immersive."
She gestured toward a young attendant. "This is Joseph, your personal guide. He'll assist you throughout your stay."
"Thank you," said Mr. Joey, nodding politely.
"You're most welcome," the receptionist said, flashing her white teeth again. "But before you proceed, please—put on your shades."
Thecla frowned. "I don't like wearing glasses."
The receptionist's tone stayed warm, but there was something practiced about it. "It's our custom here. Everyone wears them—it's part of the Shomon experience. Through them, you'll see the world from an AI's perspective."
Anne's face lit up. "Like the ones in Amagons of Sapphira!?"
"Exactly," the receptionist said, smiling wider.
"Mummy, can you put mine on?" Anne begged.
"Of course, darling."
Thecla hesitated. "Can't I skip this? It feels weird."
"Stop your drama," her father snapped quietly. "You'll embarrass us."
"But Dad—"
"Enough. We're here to relax, not cause trouble."
Mrs. Joey had already slipped hers on. "How do I look, honey?"
"Perfect," her husband said.
Under the receptionist's watchful gaze, one by one they all put on the shades—everyone except Thecla. The moment hung in the air, heavy and expectant.
"Cool, isn't it?" Anne tugged at her sister's sleeve.
"You little—don't start with me," Thecla muttered.
"You're just boring." Anne's toothless grin broke the tension, making Thecla laugh despite herself.
Her mother's sharp look ended it. "Manners, Thecla."
"Sorry."
"Come," Mrs. Joey said, taking her husband's arm. "Let's see our rooms."
Hand in hand, they followed the attendant down the gleaming corridor, deeper into the golden palace—unaware that somewhere behind the mirrored walls, something ancient had begun to stir.
---
Everything had gone well so far. The family had been at the palatial hotel for over a week now. They explored the western side of the grand estate, went swimming in the crystal-clear pool, strolled through the magnificent Westside Garden, and even spent a day at the hotel's amusement park—all because of a certain little brat.
Still, it had been a delightful experience for everyone. Only Thecla found it hard to adjust. She hated wearing the special shaded glasses—what she called her shackles. She had to wear them everywhere: to the bathroom, while eating, and during every outing. It was just so annoying.
Everything looked beautiful and peaceful… until the second week of their vacation.
That was when Thecla and John grew curious. They met up with Mr. Griff Joseph, the hotel's historical guide, and decided to visit the southern wing—once known as King Herman's Living Quarters. This section of the palace had been preserved as a tourist attraction; most of it remained untouched by renovation, though carefully maintained.
Mr. Griff made one thing clear before they began.
"You mustn't remove your glasses during the tour," he said firmly. "It's important for the full experience—and your safety."
They agreed, and the tour began.
They walked through a long corridor lined with statues of warriors in neat rows, each holding a weapon of a different color and shape. The walls glowed faintly, lit by strange crystalline lights embedded within the stone. Thecla's eyes darted everywhere, wide with curiosity.
Their journey took them through the King's meeting hall, the wives' chambers—King Herman had many, though no record confirmed how many exactly. He was said to have loved three things most: money, women, and music. They passed the training grounds, then the King's own chamber.
By the time the tour ended, night had already fallen. It had taken nearly four hours in total, and they decided to return to their rooms.
On the way back, Mr. Griff mentioned one last place.
"There's still one spot you haven't seen," he said. "The Sacred Worship Hall. I can take you there tomorrow—if you're still interested."
"Anything special about it?" Thecla asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course!" Mr. Griff chuckled. "It's magical—the finest piece of Shomon's history. Look me up tomorrow if you'd like to see it."
"Alright," Thecla smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
"And you, lad," Mr. Griff added, patting John on the back. "I hope to see you too."
"Certainly, Mr. Griff," John replied with a grin.