As they moved through the dimly lit backyard, the music faded into something stranger—like a humming beneath the earth, felt more than heard. The moon hung unnaturally still above the compound, casting the house in a pale, dreamlike glow.
Then Philip saw it.
At the far end of the garden, past a trimmed hedge and a cluster of statues, stood a gazebo—elegant, white, and seemingly untouched by time. Vines hung from its roof like curtains, swaying gently even though the night was windless. Something about it tugged at Philip's mind, like a memory he didn't have.
Frank grabbed his wrist. "Don't go near that."
Philip turned. "Why not?"
Frank shook his head. "Back when Athena and I were still together, her little brother told me—no one goes near the gazebo. It's off-limits. Family only."
"Did they say why?"
"No. But one of the guards once called it a mouth." He shivered. "Like something that devours people."
Philip stepped forward anyway.
"Phil—"
"If there's something going on here, it's past that point." He glanced over his shoulder. "You came for answers. Let's go get them."
Reluctantly, Frank followed.
The closer they came, the stranger the air felt. It grew thick—almost viscous. Every step toward the gazebo slowed like time itself was resisting their approach. As they passed under the arching vines and stepped onto the white marble floor, the world shifted.
It was like falling through water.
There was no sound. No sight. No ground.
Then—
They stood on a hill.
A vast, alien jungle stretched out behind them, and in the valley below, a massive stepped pyramid rose into the violet sky. Torches blazed along its terraces, and thousands of beings gathered in celebration at its base. The air buzzed—not just with noise, but with magic, with presence. The sky above shimmered with stars too sharp to be real.
"What... what is this?" Frank whispered.
Philip's mouth was dry. "We're not in Abuja anymore."
They descended cautiously toward the crowd. Gold dust littered the ground like sand. People in ornate robes and feathered masks danced beside elves with silver eyes and green skin, centaurs with glimmering armor, and men in suits bearing rings that glowed faintly with runes.
None of them looked human—at least, not entirely. Men of power in the world Philip could recognize some billionaires in the crowd.
The strange thing was, no one paid Philip or Frank any attention. As if they were invisible. As if they didn't matter. And scattered across the ground were gems—rubies, diamonds, coins of pure light. Frank bent down and picked one up.
"It's real," he said.
Philip joined him, stuffing a few into his pocket. But after ten minutes, he noticed something odd. His pockets weren't getting full.
As Philip continued to sift through the gold and jewels, he couldn't shake the odd sensation that came from his suit pockets. He had already filled them to the brim—yet, it didn't seem like the fabric was bulging or heavy at all. It was as if the pockets themselves were somehow... deeper than they should be.
Curious, he slid his hand into one of the pockets again, expecting to find more gold. But when he pulled it out, the amount of treasure seemed impossible. His fingers brushed against something solid that didn't feel like gold. It was... a hard, crystalline object. As he pulled it out, he realized it wasn't just gold and jewels in the pocket.
Something else was hidden in there—something that couldn't possibly fit. He stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the oddly shaped object in his hand. The pocket seemed to stretch and contract like some kind of subspace, as if it had a mind of its own, adjusting to whatever he needed at the moment.
How was this possible? Philip turned the object over in his hands. He hadn't even noticed the strange feeling of the pocket before—how it seemed to swallow whatever he put inside, yet there was no distortion to the suit's appearance. It didn't make sense.
For a second, he considered the impossible—had the suit itself been designed to do this? Could it be some kind of enchanted garment, woven with magic or technology far beyond what he knew? He could only guess. But one thing was certain: this was a power, a potential, he hadn't even begun to understand.
He slipped the crystal back into his pocket and noticed, once again, that the fabric barely seemed to change. There was no extra weight, no indication that he had just pulled out more than a few small items.
He reached in and found... he could pull them out
Frank frowned, trying the same. "It's like they vanish."
"This is a treasure trove," Philip muttered. "Let's take as much as we can."
So they continued to pick as much as they could, then they heard a sound. They looked up and decided to walk towards the pyramid.
Then, near the base of the pyramid, Frank stopped walking. His breath caught in his throat.
"Athena."
She stood in ceremonial robes, her hair braided with gold thread, surrounded by other humans, elves, and beasts dressed in similar garb. She wasn't looking at them—but she wasn't smiling either. Her face was serious. Focused. Regal.
Athena stood at 5'6", but her presence made her feel taller—like space naturally gave way when she entered a room. Her brown complexion was smooth and flawless, like polished bronze under sunlight. She looked like she had walked straight off the cover of a high-fashion magazine—modelesque in build, with long, graceful limbs and posture that screamed elegance. But beyond her beauty was something otherworldly.
She didn't just look good—she looked divine.
Frank took a step forward.
"Wait," Philip said. "Don't do anything stupid."
Frank hesitated. "What is she doing here?"
"I don't know, but I don't think we were supposed to see this."
Suddenly, the crowd began to part. A bell rang from inside the pyramid.
A high priest emerged, carrying a crystal crown.
One by one, beings stepped forward, placing the crown on their heads. Each time, the priest would speak in a voice that thundered without sound:
"Not chosen."