Hall of Radiance, Solar Promenade Arc
New Boston, North Atlantic Federation arc zone
Western Hemisphere,
United Earth Federation
2435 A.D.
The siblings stepped out into the brisk morning air of the Wardspire Annex parking lot, the hum of distant hover engines filling the silence between them. The metallic scent of ozone and the faint shimmer of rising vapor from the ground gave the entire space a sterile, almost clinical atmosphere—typical of a GSA facility. Rows of vehicles lined the illuminated lot, their polished surfaces reflecting the silver-blue glow of the annex's towering spire above them.
Naia walked beside her brother without a word, her posture composed but rigid, every step deliberate. She wasn't thrilled about being reassigned to the bombing investigation—especially not under Elias's lead—but she'd long learned that resistance within the GSA chain of command rarely changed anything. Her father's influence made sure of that. So she swallowed her frustration, keeping her silence as her boots clicked softly against the synthcrete.
Elias Vasselheim glanced at her from the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face. It had been years since they'd stood this close, years since the fire, since she'd withdrawn from field duty altogether. Seeing her now—steady, confident, and alive—was more than he'd hoped for. Yet there was something about her calm that unsettled him. It wasn't peace. It was restraint.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Elias finally asked, his tone casual but his gaze probing.
Naia turned to him, one brow arched. "Say what? Maybe ask where you've been for the past six years? Or should I start by asking if Father's the one who reassigned me?" She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "No—wait. I don't need to ask. I already know he was."
Elias sighed. "Father's only looking out for you."
Her laugh came sharp and short. "So it was him. Typical of him to find another way to squeeze himself into my life."
They reached a row of parked hoverbikes. Elias stopped beside a sleek black model—its matte chassis etched with faint emberstone runes that pulsed with restrained energy. Naia's gaze flicked over it, unimpressed.
"What's this?" she asked, though she already knew.
"My ride," Elias said, patting the handlebars with a grin.
"I know that," she replied flatly. "What I mean is—why did you bring me here? I'm not riding that thing. I have my own transport."
"But… you used to like riding with me," Elias said, feigning offense.
"Yeah. When I was younger," she said dryly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Elias leaned against the bike, smirking. "You definitely rode with me back in the Academy days."
Naia's cheeks warmed despite herself. Memories flashed unbidden—late-night rides across illuminated city bridges, laughter echoing through the wind, and the sense of safety only her brother had ever given her. She quickly looked away, hiding the faint color rising to her face.
"That was a long time ago," she muttered. Elias's smile softened, the teasing giving way to something quieter, more sincere.
"Yeah," he said. "Too long."
"Look, I'm not riding on that thing. Let's take my Glow car," Naia said, already turning away.
Elias didn't argue. He simply sighed and followed as she led him across the parking lot. Her steps were quick and clipped, boots striking against the synthcrete with a rhythmic sharpness that echoed her irritation. The sleek silver shape of her Glow car shimmered ahead, its polished frame catching the soft ambient light from the annex's high-beam towers. It was a luxury model—quiet, compact, and efficient, with its crystal engine purring faintly beneath the hood. The passenger door lifted open with a wave of her hand, and the car's interior flooded with a gentle amber glow.
Elias slid into the seat beside her without a word.
****
They drove in silence through the resonant road, the air outside heavy with the aftertaste of catastrophe. The usual traffic was gone. The entire sector had been placed under Amber Vigil, the first-level security lockdown. Drones hovered in synchronized formations overhead, their lenses sweeping the streets for any anomaly. Occasionally, one swooped low, beams of pale blue light scanning the vehicles that passed.
Most lanes were empty—civilian cars had been auto-docked by the emergency system hours ago. Only government-authorized vehicles, like Naia's, were permitted to move freely. Her car's identification glyph shimmered faintly across the windshield, signaling clearance.
She guided the vehicle onto the gold lane, the high-priority express route that snaked toward the Solar Promenade. The glowing road panels beneath the car pulsed in rhythm with its crystal engine, creating a steady hum that filled the quiet.
Neither sibling spoke. The silence was not comfortable, but it was familiar—years of unspoken things stretched between them like an invisible barrier.
When the Hall of Radiance came into view, its once-gleaming spires were veiled in a thin haze of smoke. The air shimmered with the scent of scorched stone and ozone. Emergency Gembots rolled across the plaza, their limbs shifting fluidly as they carried stretchers or deployed repair drones to stabilize the shattered facade. Fragments of crystal tiles glimmered faintly on the ground like fallen stars.
Crown Wardens stood in formation around the perimeter, their polished armor reflecting the red hazard lights that pulsed across the scene. A holographic barrier shimmered in a translucent arc, marking the boundary line between the secured zone and the outer promenade where reporters and civilians were being pushed back by security bots.
Naia parked near one of the bays reserved for GSA personnel. The moment the car settled into standby mode, Elias was already out, his long coat brushing against the wind. Naia followed close behind, unlocking her lumenpad with a flick of her wrist. Their GSA insignias materialized in gold above their wrists, broadcasting their clearance codes.
A hovering Gembot scanned them with a flicker of blue light, chirped acknowledgment, and retracted the barrier, allowing them to step through the holographic partition. The world on the other side was eerily still—the chaos muted, the tension palpable.
They approached the steps of the Hall, where fragments of marble and cracked luminite glass littered the ground. A Crown Warden in heavy armor turned toward them, his visor flickering as his ID glyph synchronized with Elias's.
"Agent Vasselheim," the Warden greeted, his tone crisp but weary.
While Elias began questioning him, Naia's attention drifted. The air was thick with emotional residue—the psychic echo of the explosion. Her latent empathic sensitivity caught the swirl of pain, shock, and despair that clung to the place like smoke. It pressed faintly against her mind, whispering fragments of fear and agony. For a moment, her breath caught; she steadied herself, strengthening the mental barrier she'd built over the years.
"…eleven casualties," the Warden was saying, "ten wounded, and one dead human."
Elias's voice was even, but his eyes darkened. "What about the Luminians?"
"Three dead, six wounded," the officer replied. His tone softened slightly, the mechanical modulation of his armor unable to mask the gravity in his words.
Naia closed her eyes briefly. The number didn't just register as data—it pulsed in her mind like heartbeats. Three extinguished lights, six dimmed. The sorrow in the air deepened, and she exhaled slowly, bracing herself for what lay ahead.
ChatGPT said:
"Hmm… strange," Elias murmured, scanning the wreckage-streaked plaza. His eyes flicked to Naia, who stood beside him, her gaze unfocused and distant. He recognized that look instantly—the faint tension around her eyes, the subtle stillness of her breath. Her Hue was active. The subtle shimmer of light around her pupils told him her gem was resonating, tuning into the emotional residue that hung in the air like invisible static.
"Naia," he said quietly, stepping closer, "you okay?"
Naia blinked as if surfacing from deep water. Her eyes shifted toward a group of medics loading the wounded into an ambulance. The rising hum of engines mixed with the sharp scent of antiseptic and burnt metal. For a second, her composure cracked—her fingers twitched, and her jaw tightened at the wave of pain she felt from the survivors. Then, just as quickly, she looked away, forcing her expression back into calm neutrality.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice steadier than her pulse. "Let's go."
Elias didn't push. He just nodded and followed as she moved toward the Hall's entrance.
Inside, the Forum of Light still held an eerie sort of beauty despite the bombing. The golden-white panels that lined the walls flickered faintly, their holographic patterns struggling to restore illumination. Fractured crystal tiles glimmered beneath their boots, each one reflecting distorted images of the Wardspire skyline through the smoke-filled glass.
Crown Wardens and Gembots filled the vast atrium. The Wardens' silver armor gleamed under the emergency lighting, their movements disciplined and mechanical, while the Gembots hovered in neat rows, scanning, analyzing, recording. Their metallic limbs emitted faint pulses of blue light that rippled across the debris like sonar.
Naia's steps echoed softly as they approached the elevator. The glass doors hissed open, and she pressed the control glyph for the Chamber of Oaths—the upper level where the Gem Access Treaty had been moments from signing before the explosion shattered it all.
The elevator ascended in silence. As they neared the second floor, the air changed—thicker, darker, carrying the acrid tang of smoke and scorched circuitry.
When the doors slid open, the devastation hit them full force.
The once-pristine chamber was a scarred ruin. Smoke curled from the edges of shattered walls, and scorch marks streaked the white marble like charred veins. The metallic scent of burnt luminite hung heavy in the air. Fragments of holographic projectors flickered weakly on the ground, casting ghostly silhouettes of what had once been banners and flags.
The Vow Walk, a ceremonial pathway of glowing sigils that had enforced peace within the chamber, was cracked and lifeless, its core crystal ruptured. The faint hum of its pacifist field—the energy that should have made violence impossible here—was gone.
Crown Wardens moved methodically across the scene, scanning debris and tagging evidence. GSA officers in dark uniforms coordinated with the Gembots, whose optical sensors flashed as they recorded every detail. Each movement was efficient, but the air was thick with unease; even the machines seemed to move with measured caution.
At the far end of the room stood Captain John Beirut—broad-shouldered, his uniform streaked with soot, his expression grim. He was speaking with two Crown Wardens when he felt the faint ripple of gem energy behind him. Turning, he saw the two newcomers stepping off the lift—Elias with his familiar steady gait, Naia with her calm, unreadable face.
He recognized the insignia on their coats immediately—the emblem of the GSA Enforcement Division—but it was their names that made him pause. Vasselheim.
One of the Dynasty Houses.
John's gaze lingered a moment longer, measuring them. Not just agents, then—heirs of influence. Whatever had happened here, their presence meant the investigation had just stepped onto a higher stage.
"Officer Beirut," Elias said. He knew the names of the GSA agents that had been assigned to secure the site of the treaty deal, and while he was glad that he was not among those who died, Elias had a lot of questions for him.
"You must be Elias Vasselheim," Captain John said. "So HQ sent you here."
"Yes. This is my sister, Agent Naia Vasselheim," Elias said. Captain John nodded at Naia, who nodded back. She was already at work, activating her Facet to start the investigation. Using emotive synchrony and her constructive will, Naia manifested one of her Facets.
Resonant Atelier-Canvas of the Heart
A temporary light plane manifested around her, spreading around the room, a symbol of her soul's workshop. With this Facet, she could craft constructs of any objects she imagined and understood. And with great efficiency and low energy output, she was able to craft an ocular interface shimmer that she could wield around her eyes like a Google.
"One hour into the signing, after all the delegates arrived and the signing procedure began, there was an energy spike, and then—" she paused, tracing her fingers through a holo display of red energy lines, "—the explosion. But the detonation pattern isn't Luminian. It's human-grade—industrial grade."
The pale-blue lenses of her ocular interface shimmer as she reviews the resonance data projected before her eyes. Elias stands beside her, arms crossed, his face hardened by years of service.
ChatGPT said:
"Officer Beirut," Elias called out as he approached, his boots crunching over the scattered debris of shattered crystal. He already knew the roster of GSA personnel assigned to the treaty site—Beirut's name had stood out. The man had a reputation for competence under pressure. Seeing him alive was a relief, though it came with a flood of unspoken questions.
Captain John Beirut turned at the sound of his name. His dark uniform was streaked with soot, and a fine layer of crystal dust clung to the folds of his coat. Behind his visor, his eyes were sharp but weary.
"You must be Elias Vasselheim," he said, his voice low but firm. "So HQ really did send you."
"That's right," Elias replied. "This is my sister, Agent Naia Vasselheim."
Beirut's gaze shifted to Naia, giving a short nod of acknowledgment. She returned it with quiet formality before stepping forward. Without another word, she rolled her shoulders back, exhaled, and let her gem hum to life.
A soft pulse of golden light rippled outward from her chest, spreading through the damaged chamber like ink dissolving in water.
Resonant Atelier — Canvas of the Heart.
The air itself responded to her will, bending and shaping into a translucent plane that unfurled across the ruined floor and walls. Fragments of light and memory began to drift in the air—echoes of motion, color, and sound from moments before the blast. The space shimmered faintly, a spectral recreation of the scene as it once was.
Within this Atelier, Naia's consciousness became both observer and artisan. Her fingers moved in delicate gestures, tracing ribbons of luminescent thread through the air. Where she touched, the world rewound. Chairs reassembled from dust, shattered glass floated back into place, and faint afterimages of people appeared as glowing silhouettes, frozen in time just before the explosion.
Her Facet—the Canvas of the Heart—wasn't just a reconstruction tool. It was a reflection of empathy itself, allowing her to rebuild what had been lost by understanding its emotional imprint. The energy field responded to the pulse of her will, the warmth of her intent painting reality back together piece by piece.
A circular shimmer appeared around her eyes—her ocular interface, shaped from her own light. Its lenses flickered pale blue as holographic data fed into her vision, layer upon layer of energy patterns and resonance traces overlaying the reconstructed scene.
She whispered, almost to herself, "One hour into the signing. All delegates were seated. Then—an energy spike…" Her hand moved, isolating a trail of fluctuating red signatures hovering midair. "…and then, detonation."
She zoomed in, her brows knitting as she examined the waveforms. "This resonance pattern isn't Luminian. No photonic frequency at all." The holographic lines pulsed redder in her lens. "It's human-grade. Industrial composition—raw, compressed detonite energy."
Elias stood beside her, silent but intent. His arms were folded, his stance rigid, his gaze fixed on the red holographic projections twisting above the chamber floor. The faint blue light reflected off the sharp planes of his face, revealing the years of battle discipline etched into his expression.
"Industrial detonite," he muttered, jaw tightening.
"Hmm… I'm sensing something else," Naia murmured, her brows furrowing as her eyes flickered beneath the glow of her ocular interface.
The light around her wavered—her Facet reacting to an unexpected presence in the room. A ripple of foreign resonance brushed against her senses, subtle yet unmistakable, like two wavelengths almost perfectly aligned.
Across the damaged chamber, Ellira moved quietly through the wreckage. The soles of her boots crunched against fractured crystal, each step stirring faint motes of light from the debris. The air was dense with burnt luminite and carbon smoke, but beneath it all, she felt something new—a vibration threading through the atmosphere.
Someone was working on a Gem construct.
Her eyes, luminous and gold-veined, traced the faint shimmer emanating from the center of the room. The human woman standing there—Naia—was surrounded by a radiant plane of living light. The reconstruction field expanded and contracted with each breath she took, bending the residual energy of the explosion back into form.
Ellira paused, her pulse quickening. The resonance tugged at her core, warm and strangely familiar. It wasn't identical to her own Luminian energy signature, but close—like a mirror made of a slightly different hue.
She can feel me, Ellira realized. And I can feel her.
The shimmer around Naia's eyes suddenly shifted, flickering toward the far corner. Their gazes met across the haze.
"You…" Naia breathed, lowering her hands as the construct around her dimmed.
Elias turned sharply at her tone, following her gaze. His eyes landed on Ellira, standing amidst the dust and fractured light. He hadn't sensed her before—and that alone unsettled him. His instincts were sharp, trained for detection, but her energy field had blended seamlessly into the ruined environment until it flared under Naia's Facet.
Now that he did sense her, the weight of it hit like a wave. Her Gem energy was vast—dense and layered, rolling beneath the surface of her calm demeanor like a restrained ocean. Even through suppression, it radiated power far beyond the standard Luminian threshold. Elias's expression tightened slightly. High-tier, he thought. Probably one of the Great Tribes.
"Oh, her," Captain John said, glancing between them. "That's Ellira Solenne. She's the reason most of us are still standing."
Elias frowned. "What do you mean?"
Before John could answer, Naia spoke, her tone sharp but curious. "You manifested a barrier to contain the explosion, didn't you?"
Ellira approached, her steps unhurried, her presence steady despite the faint shimmer of light trailing from her movements. As she drew closer, Naia dismissed her construct—the luminous field around her collapsing in a soft rain of particles.
Naia studied her openly. The Luminia before her was… different.
She didn't wear the typical glamour most Luminia used to pass among humans. Her translucent crystal skin had been replaced by a smooth, fair tone—still faintly radiant under the light, but natural. Thin, luminescent markings curved along her cheekbones like faint tribal etchings, pulsing softly with her heartbeat. Her hair, long and golden with streaks of refracted light, cascaded down her back in loose, shimmering waves.
She was tall—easily taller than Naia, and unlike the ethereal, statuesque forms of other Luminia diplomats, Ellira's body was vividly real: tall, full-figured, with a voluptuous, curving silhouette that seemed carved by warmth rather than perfection.
There was nothing ethereal or distant about her, none of the practiced perfection Naia had seen in other Luminia diplomats. Instead, there was something startlingly real about her—like a star that chose to walk among shadows.
"Yes, I did," Ellira said calmly, her voice soft but steady, carrying a faint melodic undertone—like light vibrating through glass.
Elias's eyes narrowed. "If you did, then why are most of the Luminia dead?"
"Elias," Naia hissed, shooting him a sharp glare. Her tone cut through the tension like a blade, but it was too late—the question hung heavy in the air.
Ellira didn't flinch. She met his gaze without resentment, her luminous markings pulsing faintly along her cheekbones. "Those who died," she said quietly, "gave their strength to shape the barrier. Their energy fused with mine to hold it together. Even for me, containing that blast and keeping it from rupturing the Prism Core below was nearly impossible."
Her words lingered, weighty with both grief and pride.
Naia's expression softened. "The core…" she murmured, glancing toward her brother. "It's still intact."
Elias followed her gaze toward the far end of the chamber where, deep beneath the reinforced flooring, the Prism Core Reactor pulsed faintly—its energy hum a steady, rhythmic vibration that resonated through the building's frame.
The Prism Core wasn't just a power source; it was the living heart of New Boston. A harmonic engine unlike any other on Earth, it transformed light, motion, and human consciousness into structured energy. It powered not only the city but the Node-9 Resonance Field—the stabilizing lattice that maintained equilibrium across the entire North Atlantic Federation.
Unlike conventional fusion plants, the core was a living prism—a radiant crystal consciousness buried deep in the Hall of Radiance's sanctum. There, the Solar Crown Beam, projected from orbit, descended through the tower's hollow axis and into the Earth's crust. The light diffused through the subterranean gem lattice beneath the city, creating a vast energetic web that connected every system, every power grid, every communication strand in the Federation.
That it was still functioning—still alive—was nothing short of miraculous.
Naia exhaled softly, realizing the full scale of what Ellira had prevented. "If the core had gone critical…"
"The entire North Atlantic sector would've fallen into collapse," Elias finished grimly.
Ellira's golden eyes flickered with subdued weariness. "Exactly."
"Still… using that amount of power just for a bombing," Naia said under her breath. The glow from her ocular interface returned as she reactivated her Facet, streams of reconstructed data flickering before her eyes like ribbons of light. Her fingers traced through the air, rewinding fragments of recorded resonance signatures. " 'Death to the corporate overlords'…" she murmured, frowning. "That's what they said."
"That's exactly what the bomber shouted before detonation," Captain John confirmed grimly.
Elias crossed his arms, his voice clipped and steady. "How did they even get a bomb into the chamber? The Vowwalk should've neutralized any violent action." His tone carried an edge of disbelief.
The Vowwalk, after all, was no ordinary defense system—it was a product of the Vasselheim House, their family's legacy. A self-stabilizing resonance field that turned intent into regulation, preventing aggression within its boundaries. The idea that someone had bypassed it was unthinkable.
Naia's eyes narrowed, data still scrolling across her lenses. "Then we'll need to inspect the remnants. If there's anything left of the device, I can extract a residual lattice imprint. It'll tell us what type of Gem catalyst was used."
Captain John shook his head slightly. "The Gembots have already collected every fragment. You'll have full access to the scans." He hesitated, then added, "But there's something else. Just before the explosion, my perimeter team went dark. No alarms, no transmissions. It's like someone muted them completely. Which means…"
"They had help," Elias said, finishing his thought.
John nodded. "From the outside, yes—and possibly from within."
Naia's expression tightened as she studied another cluster of data. A flicker of light flared on her lenses. "Then we already have a lead," she said quietly. "One of the human delegates left the chamber moments before the detonation." Her gaze shifted toward Ellira. "You followed them, didn't you?"
Ellira hesitated, the soft glow of her markings dimming as her composure wavered. "I…" She paused, recalling the distorted image of the figure she had trailed down the steps before the blast.
"Did you recognize the person?" Elias pressed.
"I don't think so," Ellira said finally. "They were using some kind of glamour tech—their features kept shifting. It masked their resonance signature too."
"Glamour tech," Elias muttered. His jaw clenched. "So they were hiding their identity. But even then, security should've flagged it." His eyes darkened, thoughts turning quickly. "If it didn't, that means someone on the inside scrubbed the detection feed."
A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the faint hum of the damaged Hall's failing lights.
Elias exhaled slowly, turning from Ellira back to his sister. "We've seen enough here," he said, his voice low. "Let's head back to the base. If we're going to find out who planned this, we'll start with the ones who paid the price for it."
Naia nodded, her Facet fading out as the last traces of her construct dissolved into the smoky air. Ellira looked away, her expression unreadable—but deep within her, a flicker of unease stirred. She could still feel the echo of that stranger's presence. And it felt wrong.