Lorien did not have much recollection of his life before he found himself submerged in the darkness of Low Liceas. He could not truly account for how it happened; it was almost as if he had simply appeared one day.
The silver-eyed boy was much younger and frailer back then, completely unaware of the world unfolding before him—but New Liceas’ underground was relentless, regardless of who you were.
Weak and burdened workers formed long lines before heading to the shipyards, where they labored from sun to sun building the skeletons of vessels that facilitated exospheric travel.
The constant blowing of the wild wings and the stratospheric abyss below often pushed the unlucky and unfavored to fall to their deaths.
Those who did not work at the shipyards labored in assembly lines and other factories that polluted the underground space, where heavy machinery frequently led to disregard for safety.
Those fortunate enough not to lose their lives in gruesome accidents often left maimed, unable to do much for a living.
Other occupations outside the industrial area required involvement in the black market—the contraband economy born from the activities of the skyport.
If not that, the only alternatives were recycling and other lowly activities, most of which barely yielded enough to survive.
Needless to say, it was almost impossible to live upright under the constant recruitment and harassment from criminal organizations like the Low Liceas Syndicate—who once swore to protect workers and the poor from injustice, but allowed their means to overtake their ends.
Because of that, Lorien had little choice but to adapt to the harsh environment.
Even then, his heart rejected the injustices, and he often wondered whether existence held anything beyond discomfort and misfortune.
During the couple of years he managed to survive, he heard stories of a so-called Paradise that lay above. It was said to be a place where bright sunlight reached nearly every corner. It was clean and organized—everything the underground was not.
And what would have become of the underworld if its people could not dream of reaching such a heaven?
Many believed that climbing the industrial ranks would grant them passage beyond the gates guarded by men in clean white uniforms.
Others believed in a secret passage hidden deep within the machinery, though the insides of the megastructure were as dangerous as one could imagine.
Many lost their lives trying to navigate the labyrinth of conduits and hot vapor, dying alone and lost.
Lorien, however, eventually became infected with the yearning for that paradise and decided to make the journey with his own preparations.
He built tools from scrapped parts: a lantern to see, a shield to protect himself from hot vapor, and a grapple to traverse the multidimensional labyrinth.
For nearly half a year, he survived the dangers hidden within the darkness until he finally found a way—a connection to a water recollection system formed by constant condensation.
His eyes took time to adjust to the intense sunlight.
When they did, Lorien saw the mundane nature of the exit—a slightly misplaced manhole along a cobbled floor.
Even so, he found the result of his efforts exhilarating.
His first impressions of the City above were much as the folk had described.
The staggering views and the people walking comfortably along the streets—it was all breathtaking.
Yet the existence of that heaven made him look back at the hole from which he had just emerged.
Why can’t that other place be like this?
It was a genuine question from silver eyes nearly free of judgment—though its answers began to change over time.
The dynamics of the upper city remained distant to him.
Lorien spent several days sleeping in an alleyway while searching for resources to survive, and in this struggle he found little difference from the underworld.
He could not even sell the pieces that had brought him there; they were mere trash compared to what that wealthy world offered.
Eventually, his rugged appearance and alien mannerisms drew the attention of bystanders, who in turn summoned the authorities.
Towering policemen blocked the sunlight from above.
“It seems like another one managed to escape.”
Almost all inhabitants of the underworld who reached the surface were returned once discovered. The only exception was children, who were temporarily housed at an orphanage maintained and directed by the Church of Possibilities. The children were well fed and given shelter. In exchange, they were taught the ways of the Dragon of Possibilities and eventually expected to join the Church.
Those who resisted or opposed the teachings of their ‘one God’ were sent back to the underworld, left to live by their own devices.
Lorien spent tense days at the orphanage, as he questioned everything—not only what he was taught, but what he had already experienced.
He often wondered why a place like the underworld existed, and why those above did so little about it. He also questioned the benevolence of the Dragon of Possibilities on multiple occasions, prompting rejection from many of the church caretakers.
“Perhaps it’s time we let this Lorien child go. Though not evil-natured, he seems very unfit for the likes of our Church.”
“Let’s not be so harsh about him shall we? Can you not see this boy has already been blessed by the possibilities themselves?”
Fortunately for him, there was a man above them all—one intrigued by the boy’s odd nature and talent, who saw his questioning not as defiance, but as a challenge to his own faith.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
That man was none other than the ‘gentle giant,’ Father Ben’Kairos. Through his tutelage and protection, Lorien became a partial citizen of New Liceas, able to explore the city and learn the nature of the Republic’s society.
During that period, he realized that even the so-called heaven was imperfect. There were still those who worked hard, struggled, and lived at a disadvantage—such as workers who commuted weekly from the continents far below to earn a proper living.
Others labored to maintain the infrastructure that kept the city suspended high above the sky.
Beyond Low Liceas, entire systems engaged in resource extraction—mining natural materials in conditions reminiscent of the underworld, but on a planetary scale.
Once again, Lorien returned to that old question: could things be better, and was there more to existence than mere Luck?
This time, however, there was no higher heaven to reach.
He would have to find the answer while living within his world.
During one of his ‘escapes’ from the orphanage, Lorien was suddently lured by the playful yet aggressive sound of an instrument.
It was wild and unfamiliar, yet oddly warm and familiar.
As he approached, Lorien saw a dark-skinned man leaning against a storefront, playing for coins in the street.
The man noticed the boy’s shadow and smiled confidently, his voice slow and thick, yet articulate. “It doesn’t seem like many of these people have ears for this show,” he joked.
“I guess so…”
When Lorien lifted his gaze, the man’s expression froze, as if he had seen a ghost. Nevertheless, he quickly composed himself.
“Even then, I collected quite some money today. Why don’t I invite you to go eat?”
Lorien stepped back at the sudden generosity, stuttering as he tried to form an excuse—but Moses insisted first. “I know an inn from nearby. They serve some very good stews and meat.”
Back in the present, watching Larissa break made Lorien feel small.
“I’m sorry…”
Even with the best intentions, Lorien understood he had been reckless the moment he involved her in that matter.
“I thought I taught you better… that I had more time…” She seemed to tell herself before locking her sharp hazel eyes onto him.
“I promise this is not going to happen again.”
Unexpectedly, the woman pulled him toward her, restraining him in a tight embrace. “You have to promise me more… that you are going to be brave, wise, and strong. You must.”
Though he regretted how his actions had burdened her, Lorien could not fully understand why she was asking that of him.
“I—don’t know if I can promise you that…”
Larissa searched his eyes as if confronting his very soul, then spoke without revealing disappointment.
“Of course you don’t…”
With each passing moment, she returned to her hardened composure and lifted the bag in front of him.
“You made me lie to a police officer to cover for you. I didn’t teach you to be careless with what you do.”
She reached into the bag, which held more money than they would ever need in a lifetime, and threw it into a trash disposal, startling Lorien.
“And I also taught you that if you want something, you work for it. There is no such thing as a shortcut or a workaround. The world is always prepared for those.”
She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the main street.
“Let’s go. I expect you to work the kitchen until it shines.”
“I still think that’s a batshit story, I mean—who would be uncaring enough to do that?”
The voice belonged to a bold young man. Like the other inhabitants of the underworld, he wore a greasy overall with a hood—though it had been cut and adjusted into a sharp, unrestrained fit.
He spoke to another man seated behind a long wooden desk of old, nearly immaculate craftsmanship. The office appeared carved from the concept of luxury itself: walls of rich imported wood glowing beneath soft light, and clean glass panes reflecting every flicker of the city. Paintings and objects of historical value adorned the space, breathing antiquity and legacy.
Nevertheless, the underworld inhabitant kept his hands in his pockets, largely indifferent to it all.
“You will tell me about that ‘Almoner’ later, Jax.” The other man interrupted with a sigh, his voice heavy with authority. “For now, I want to know why you weren’t able to retrieve all the items from the exhibition.”
“Listen, my job is sorta like an art—one with a ton of risks involved. Leaving some stuff behind is often part of the deal. Nevertheless, I always make sure to walk away with the best treasure,” the so-called Jax assured with a confident smirk. “You already got what you wanted, which means the gig is done. I actually thought you called me in for another job, but it seems like it was just for wasting my time.”
Jax glanced at the reflection in the man’s golden frames before turning away. Still, he stopped halfway across the office.
“You could make it up by sharing something, though. Why is one of the Syndicate’s heads so fond of collecting all this historical junk?”
The man rose from his desk and stepped from the shadows. His demeanor was composed and calculating—sharply defined features framing his stern expression: neatly slicked dark hair, squared shoulders, and narrow glasses that sharpened his penetrating gaze.
He approached the windows, overlooking nearly the entirety of New Liceas from a considerable height.
“In this world, there are many stories about the impossible, mostly discarded due to a lack of evidence or understanding. Now, any good lawyer knows that the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence—but I didn’t expect it to take long for that evidence to fall into my hands.” He clenched his right fist.
Jax scoffed after a brief silence, turning to leave and signaling his farewell. “Good luck with that.”
The heavy, ornate doors closed slowly behind him, leaving only quiet determination in the room.
Jax stretched once he reached the hallway—unbothered, until he noticed the scrutinizing stares of the armed guards.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to rob the Syndicate right in their faces,” he said with a provocative grin. “I just want to know where the restrooms are.”
“You will be escorted there,” one of the guards replied curtly, stepping forward.
“That’s very generous. Now, all things considered, I’ll also be expecting the courtesy of you cleaning my ass.”
The guard shoved him farther down the hallway, forcing him to stumble back.
“Calm down, big guy. I bet it was that boss of ours who banned humor around here,” he muttered, straightening his jacket. “I’ll keep that in mind in case I ever apply for a permanent position.”
However, as he was escorted, Jax’s inner expression hardened.
He remembered the fall and how a few pieces of the bounty had broken loose. His thoughts lingered on the young boy with silver-colored eyes and the burning curiosity he had seen when the child witnessed what the Syndicate leader sought.
I was careless.
He considered finding the boy and bribing him into silence, but he was confident his identity had remained concealed. There was no reason to reappear.
If anything, having secured what he wanted, it was time to leave the city behind—to travel toward unexplored places and claim the finest bounties awaiting him.
