The Aetherium Genesis Institute sat like a gleaming wound in the earth — a tower of white and silver metal jutting from the green plains. Steam hissed from vents along its sides, the scent of ozone and iron thick in the air.
Inside, light poured through glass corridors and polished steel, glinting off runes etched into the floors. Guards in dark uniforms stood at attention, their cowls hiding their faces, their spears humming faintly with energy.
King Rega walked at the center of the procession. Beside him, Njiru followed in silence, his face unreadable, his eyes flickering with restrained power. On his left was Diviner Zuberi.
A thin man in a pristine lab coat hurried to meet them. "Your Majesty, Lord Njiru, Diviner Zuberi," he said, bowing deeply. "We've completed the stabilization sequence. The prototype is ready for demonstration."
"Show me," Rega said simply, his voice echoing through the chamber.
They entered the central laboratory — a vast, circular hall filled with a low hum that seemed to vibrate through bone. In the middle of the room stood a massive glass orb, suspended in a cradle of black metal. Inside, a Dryad floated motionless in viscous green liquid, her skin the color of young leaves, her hair drifting like vines. Thick tendrils coiled around her wrists and ankles, pinning her in place.
Njiru's expression didn't change, but Diviner Zuberi's face darkened the moment he saw her. "You've restrained one of them," he said quietly.
The scientist smiled nervously. "An unfortunate necessity, Diviner Zuberi. The Dryad's life force is… volatile. But her energy output is remarkable."
He approached the control panel and flipped a series of switches. The orb began to hum, the green liquid swirling faster. Then, with a pull of a lever, a wave of light burst outward from the core — a pulse that shimmered through the floor and vanished into the earth.
Moments later, the entire institute trembled.
From the observation balcony, Rega watched as the barren fields beyond the tower began to shimmer. Saplings shot from the soil, stretching skyward with impossible speed. Flowers bloomed in cascades of color. Fruit trees bowed under the weight of abundance. Even the dry grass glowed faintly with renewed life.
A murmur rippled through the scientists — awe, disbelief, triumph.
Rega allowed himself a slow, measured smile. "Impressive."
The scientist beamed, clearly relieved. "This is only a fraction of what she's capable of, Majesty. With further refinement, we could revitalize entire regions, rebuild farmlands — even reverse decay in the border zones."
"Good," Rega said. "The kingdom starves while my rivals squander resources. We'll feed our people — and they'll worship the hand that feeds them."
He turned sharply. "What about containment? The Dryad's power must not be… borrowed."
"Security has been addressed, Your Majesty," the scientist said, motioning toward a shadow at the far side of the chamber.
The figure that stepped forward moved with eerie precision, every motion deliberate. A man — tall, wrapped in black armor reinforced with glimmering energy veins that pulsed with faint light. His eyes glowed beneath his helmet, cold and unreadable.
In his hands, he carried a long, two-handed staff — smooth, black, and humming with restrained energy. Its tip burned with a focused violet flame that never flickered.
"This," said the scientist, "is the Warden. Head of security. A master of containment arts and former commander in the King's Guard. He will personally oversee the Aetherium's protection."
Rega's gaze sharpened. "Personally?"
The Warden bowed low. "By your command, Majesty. Nothing enters or leaves this facility without my awareness — not even the wind."
Rega's lips curved slightly. "Excellent." He turned to the scientist. "Increase the pulse efficiency. I want a radius tenfold by the next demonstration. The harvest will belong to the crown alone."
The scientist hesitated. "Majesty, such an increase could—"
Rega's glare silenced him. "I didn't ask for risks. I asked for results."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Satisfied, Rega turned and began walking toward the exit. Njiru followed silently, though his gaze lingered on the Dryad — her motionless form, the faint flicker of life behind her closed eyes.
As they stepped into the corridor, Diviner Zuberi finally spoke. "You realize the danger of binding her, don't you?"
Rega didn't slow. "Danger is relative. So is control. We're not destroying her — merely redirecting her power."
"I concur, Your Majesty," Njiru said flatly. "She's alive."
Rega stopped and turned to them. "You speak as if that matters. We are building a new world, men — a world where Greater Spirits bleed, and kings wield their power. The old ways are dying. We're only hastening their end."
Diviner Zuberi met his gaze, unflinching. "And when the Orishas notice?"
Rega smiled thinly. "They already have. That's why we act swiftly."
They continued down the corridor, their footsteps echoing. The King boarded the transport lift and ascended toward the great bird-shaped airship hovering above the tower.
As the lift descended again, Njiru and Zuberi waited in silence. Then a messenger came sprinting toward them — pale, shaking, breathless.
"My lord Njiru!" he gasped. "News from the frontier… the Wigu is dead."
Njiru froze mid-step. His expression remained composed, but the air grew cold — as if the room itself recognized his fury.
"Explain," he said quietly.
"The creature's remains were found near the old grave paths. Witnesses report four travelers — a group of youths. One wielding green magic."
Diviner Zuberi's eyes narrowed. "The Green Aseborn."
Njiru said nothing. The red in his irises deepened, pulsing faintly. His gloved hand tightened until the leather creaked.
Zuberi turned toward him with mild curiosity. "Do you wish to pursue them?"
Njiru's voice came calm, almost gentle. "I will find them. The Wigu was not a pet — it was a tether. And they've just severed it."
Zuberi gave a curt nod. "Then go. I will stay. The Institute will be secure. The Green Aseborn must be captured before they disrupt any more of the King's plans."
Njiru inclined his head, masking the storm behind perfect composure. "Of course."
As Zuberi departed on the returning lift, Njiru looked once more toward the sealed laboratory doors. His reflection flickered in the glass.
"They killed my Wigu…" he murmured. "Then let them see what comes when death follows back."
And somewhere deep below the Institute, the Dryad stirred — her eyes opening just slightly, the faintest tremor rippling through the green liquid around her.