Moonlight poured through the high glass ceilings of the Founders' Palace, bathing the marbled corridors in a pale, silver glow. The walls echoed with silence as Mariah walked alone, her bare feet gliding quietly over polished stone. She moved past ornate pillars and descending steps — deeper and deeper beneath the palace until the warmth of home gave way to the chill of stone.
At the end of a long, narrow tunnel, a heavy door stood ajar. Behind it, a cold, damp dungeon stretched out beneath the foundation of the palace — a place untouched by sunlight, kept hidden from the world.
Two guards stood in front of the last cell. One was young, sharp-eyed, still new to the weight of secrets. The other was older, worn by years of quiet watch.
The younger one shifted uncomfortably. "Why is she here?" he muttered. "I thought she was the maid... and Mother Mariah's closest friend."
The older guard didn't look at him. "She was."
"What happened to her?"
The elder turned his head slowly. "Are you even from this island? Or have you already forgotten?" He exhaled. "She broke... after her sister died. The two were all they had."
The younger scoffed, shaking his head. "She should be removed... or ended. Before anyone else catches whatever madness she has."
A voice broke through the gloom.
"Why do you think so?"
Both guards froze. Mariah stood a few steps behind them, her gaze steady and unreadable.
They turned and bowed immediately. "Forgive us, Mother."
"Leave," she said softly.
Without hesitation, the guards stepped aside and vanished into the shadows.
Mariah approached the cell. Inside, a figure sat hunched in the corner, facing the wall. The stone around her was marked in chalk and soot, strange symbols and sketches drawn with obsessive care. Her hands moved slowly, dragging patterns with her nails.
"Elira," Mariah said gently.
No response. The woman didn't move. Her long, matted hair hung like a veil over her face.
"Elira... how are you doing? Can you hear me?" Mariah's voice cracked as she knelt beside the gate, pressing a hand against the bars. "I'm scared... and alone without you."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"Come back to your senses. Please. Let's go to the lake. Let's fish... or swim... like we used to. Let's play, like we always did."
Her words echoed in the silence. Elira remained still.
"You're not this..." Mariah's voice broke as the tears came. She bowed her head, pressing her forehead to the cold iron.
Minutes passed.
Then — a shuffle of movement.
Elira turned.
Her face was pale, smeared with soot and dust. Her once-bright eyes were glassy and distant. Her clothes, though clean, were torn and hanging loose — evidence of past outbursts. Mariah had brought her new robes again and again... and Elira had ripped them every time.
But still... she came.
Elira shuffled toward the gate. Mariah raised her head, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Slowly, she reached her hand between the bars, trembling.
"Elira..."
Their fingers met. For a breathless moment, Mariah smiled, eyes gleaming.
But then—
A flash of pain. Elira's overgrown nail slashed across Mariah's hand.
Mariah gasped and pulled back instinctively, cradling her bleeding palm.
Elira stood motionless on the other side, her eyes blank, her hand still raised in the air.
Mariah didn't cry out. She didn't leave. She looked at her friend — and whispered through tears, "Even if you hurt me... I'll keep coming back."
Behind her, the shadows deepened. Somewhere above, the palace lights continued to shine — unaware that in the depths below, a bond was still trying to survive, even through madness.
---
That same day, the training grounds shimmered under the morning sun, heat rising off the sand in waves. The Aleph team stood in formation, each of them breathing steadily, eyes locked on David — their childlike instructor with unnerving power behind his innocent grin.
David stood before them, hands behind his back. His voice rang out sharp and cheerful.
"Alright. I want to test something. Let's see if you can work together — as a team... and as a family."
Aaron raised an eyebrow. "What's the test?"
Before David could speak, Gideon rolled his eyes and muttered, "It won't be hard. He's too soft."
David smiled. "Nice. Say that again — like I'm not standing right here."
Then he raised a hand, and the sand beneath them began to rumble.
Grains lifted into the air, swirling in impossible patterns, until they formed into dozens of humanoid shapes — beings of different sizes, some with blades for arms, others crackling with fire. In the center of it all, a single toy — a fragile figure shaped like a little boy — sat bound to a chair. Around his neck was a glimmering serpent, coiled tightly and hissing.
The team took a collective step back.
Aaron's eyes widened. "Wait... how are you doing this?"
Gideon narrowed his gaze. "Is this even real?"
Jezer chucked and smiled "This is real, very much real"
David chuckled. "All Edenites can do this. It's not that hard. But I won't be teaching you this. Not yet."
He pointed to the boy.
"Your task is simple. Work together. Reach that toy, and save him before the snake bites. If it does... he explodes."
Mary blinked. "And the rest of them?" She gestured to the army of sand-Toys gathering around.
David had already turned his back and begun to walk toward the side. Then, with a sudden blur, he was gone — now seated on a tall podium like a bored emperor.
He turned his neck just slightly, smirking.
"They'll try to stop you. That's their role."
The team stared, stunned.
"Wait, how did you—?" Jezer began, but David cut him off, reclining like a prince.
"Focus on the boy. Your time's running out."
Then his voice rang loud and final:
"Start."
In an instant, the sand-Toys surged forward.
Mary dashed first, flames dancing on her fists. "You guys are slow — I'll get to him first!"
Aaron shot out after her, blades forming in his hands. "Watch it, Mary! You'll trigger the snake!"
Gideon summoned a wall of stone to shield his approach, while Zinco remained still — watching, calculating.
The team fought valiantly — each member skilled, but uncoordinated. Their attacks clashed and overlapped. Mary's fire forced Gideon to redirect toward Jezer. Aaron almost hit Zinco with a missed strike. The chaos built as they neared the boy.
Then — the snake hissed.
A single second of hesitation. A flick of its tongue.
Its fangs sank into the boy's neck.
BOOM.
The explosion ripped across the arena, a shockwave of energy and sand tossing the entire team backward. They slammed into the dirt, groaning, bruised, and coughing as smoke filled the air.
When the dust cleared, David was no longer on the podium. He stood calmly among them, hands behind his back, his face unreadable.
He walked among their sprawled forms like a teacher in a ruined classroom.
"Teamwork and family," he said, his voice low and almost disappointed. "They go together. You don't gain glory by standing alone — you earn it through bond."
He paused beside Aaron, who was struggling to sit up.
"You all failed."
Mary growled, pushing herself upright. "We tried!"
David knelt beside the spot where the toy once sat. "But not together."
He stood.
"The key... is to master yourself. And each other."
Aaron shouted, "You're crazy! You almost got us killed!"
David didn't turn. He waved a hand dismissively. "Please. That explosion couldn't injure an Edenite — let alone kill one."
Then, suddenly, a faint bell rang in the distance — the pleasant jingle of a nearby restaurant opening for breakfast.
David's eyes lit up.
"Oooh... Mushrooms."
He clapped his hands, turning back to them.
"Okay! You all keep training. As for me, I'm off!"
And just like that, he strolled toward the training ground gate, humming to himself.
The team lay scattered in the dirt, groaning in disbelief.
Aaron muttered, "He's insane."
Zinco, still catching his breath, finally spoke. "He's right though."
They turned to him.
Zinco wiped a trickle of blood from his lip. "We didn't work like a unit. We were strong... but alone."
Gideon sat up slowly. "Then let's change that."
Mary gave a weary nod. "Before the next explosion teaches us again."
They all looked toward the horizon, where David was already skipping down the path like a child — utterly unconcerned.
And for the first time, the Aleph team began to understand what real training meant.
---