Axis was a city built on the bones of ambition, where metal met sky and ancient stone whispered beneath concrete. Suspended between eras, its lower tiers were a maze of steam-choked alleys and ancient ruins long paved over, while the upper spires gleamed with filtered starlight and power drawn from arcane reactors. Airships drifted between the tallest towers like lazy insects, ferrying diplomats, merchants, and secrets.
At the city's heart stood the Dalmoth Research Institute — a monolithic structure of glass-veined obsidian, black as a forgotten star. It rose not in beauty, but in defiance, its faceless walls humming softly with unseen energy. To most, it was just a government-funded think tank; to the few who mattered, it was a vault of forbidden knowledge. There were rumors that its deepest levels didn't follow the laws of time — that the institute's founder had vanished into a mirror and never returned.
Inside, the halls were sterile and silent, watched over by drones that never blinked and archivists who spoke only in whispers. It was here the first maps of the Pit had been drawn, where the first Diver suits were tested, and where classified experiments still left scorch marks that couldn't be cleaned.
Axis lived in the shadow of the Pit.
Dalmoth lived in the shadow of what lay beneath it.
And every year, fewer scientists returned from the institute's lowest floors — replaced not by people, but by data, blood-stained charts, and forgotten records.
---
You ever heard of Axis?
No, not the one in the old war textbooks. I'm talking about the city — the one built near that giant, world-swallowing hole everyone pretends doesn't exist. Yeah, that Axis.
I've never been, but I know a guy who tried. Said the closer you get, the more the sky starts to look… off. Too still. Too wide. Like the clouds are watching you or something. They've got airships floating between buildings like it's normal — real metal leviathans, not just luxury blimps. But the streets? Half steam pipes and old ruins, half glowing signs and tech no one's supposed to have. The rich live in the sky. The rest, well... the rest cling to the cracks.
And then there's the Dalmoth Research Institute.
They say it's a government lab, but no one really knows. It's this massive black tower at the center of Axis. No windows. No doors you can see. Just... there. People go in. People don't come out. At least, not the same. They run experiments on stuff found near the Pit — relics, creatures, anomalies. I read somewhere they once grew a tree that whispered your worst memories just by standing near it.
Creepy stuff.
I don't know why anyone would live there, let alone work there. But I guess if you're not afraid of going missing — or if you want answers bad enough — Axis is where you end up.
Me? I'll stay in New York.
---
It was late summer in Midtown. The sun blazed down hard on the streets of concrete and glass, making the subway grates shimmer with heat. Inside Bean & Bound, a quiet, air-conditioned corner café nestled between a law firm and an art gallery, four friends gathered over mismatched mugs of iced coffee and curiosity.
The hum of the ceiling fan stirred the sweat-damp air as patrons lounged in thrift-store armchairs and chipped wooden booths. A jazz playlist trailed lazily from the overhead speakers, nearly drowned out by the clatter of cups and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.
They were a strange quartet — friends more by circumstance than commonality.
Maya, dark curls tied back in a loose bandana, leaned forward. She wore a denim jumpsuit and white sneakers dusted in city grime. Her glasses fogged every time she sipped from her iced mocha.
"I'm telling you," she said, voice sharp with disbelief, "Axis is just a government cover. Some doomsday cult probably built that hole. No one builds a city around a bottomless pit unless they've lost their minds."
Deshawn, built like a linebacker and dressed in gym shorts and a sweat-stained tank, laughed as he wiped his brow. "You just described half of Texas, Maya. But nah, Axis is real. And so's the Institute. The Dalmoth Research people? They made tech that bends gravity. One of their drones floated for three straight years above a rupture point. Didn't even blink."
"If you believe the footage," Talia chimed in. Pale, wiry, with long lavender hair and an arm full of silver bracelets, she was the group's conspiracy theorist. Her crop top read: There Is No Earth B. "But have you heard the stuff coming out of there lately? Dreams being recorded, AI that speaks in tongues, researchers going missing. My cousin says their current lead scientist hasn't aged in ten years."
"That's because he hasn't," said Callum.
The others turned to him.
Callum was quiet — always had been. Shaggy brown hair, old brown coat over a threadbare T-shirt no matter the season, and a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles that glinted strangely in the café light. But when he spoke of Axis, something in his voice shifted.
"They call him the Director. A child who's not a child. Looks eight, maybe younger. But he's smarter than anyone on Earth. Leads teams into the Pit itself — floors no one has survived. Came back with maps. Artifacts. One time, he solved an infinite recursion lock with a single glance. They said the room itself bowed to him."
Talia raised an eyebrow. "That sounds… excessive."
Maya snorted. "You sound like a cultist."
Callum's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.
"Maybe. But you're talking about Axis like it's a myth. I lived there."
Silence.
Deshawn leaned in. "Wait, you're from Axis?"
Callum nodded. "Not born there. But I spent two years at a university that partnered with Dalmoth. I saw the sky ripple. Heard the warning sirens when a tear opened on Floor Three. And I saw the Director. Once. Passing through a corridor surrounded by operatives. He looked right at me. You don't forget that."
Talia shivered, suddenly interested. "What's it like? The city?"
Callum's voice lowered, reverent.
"Massive. Stacked vertical. The rich live above the smog. Airships dock near the Institute's tower. There are zones you don't enter without clearance — whole districts warped by exposure to relics. And there are names people respect. Even fear. The Ascendant General — a woman named Idrienne who commands living armor. The Terraformer Twins — architects who bend matter with a touch."
Maya blinked. "Those are people?"
"Real as you and me. And the new team diving now? They say it's the most promising in decades. There's a girl named Aria, rescued from the Plague Wastes by the Director himself. Wields a blade that turns to mist. A researcher-turned-soldier named Roger, who supposedly pulled an entire squad out of a collapsed zone. And then there's Kai."
Deshawn frowned. "Kai?"
Callum nodded. "Sixteen. Skinny. Bookish. No famous feats, but there's a reason the Director picked him. They say he's got a mind for runes — the kind that respond to instinct more than knowledge. That's rare."
Talia shook her head. "So we've got a genius child, a swordswoman, a soldier, and a rune nerd? Sounds like an anime."
Maya laughed. "Sounds like suicide."
Callum looked out the window. A pigeon perched on a fire escape turned oddly, its shadow stretching just a little too long.
"You say that like humanity has a choice."
Outside, the sun boiled the pavement. Inside, the café lights flickered — just once.
No one noticed but Callum.
He stirred his drink and said nothing more.