The Enclave for Global Advancement stood as a gleaming bastion of progress to the world, its corporate fortress overlooking the Atlantic Ocean near Cape Cod, South Africa. A symbol of unity, it was publicly funded by a coalition of governments and private backers to tackle humanity's greatest challenges: climate change, disease, the fresh water crisis. Its sprawling campus boasted quantum computing labs, renewable energy projects, and a reputation as the world leader in technological innovation. Yet beneath its polished veneer, the Enclave harbored a shadowy purpose—safeguarding the status quo by suppressing anything that threatened global power, chief among them the volatile force of magic.
The Cape Cod facility embodied this duality. Above ground, silver and glass towers rose amidst verdant gardens, labs glowing blue-white even at night. Below, levels plunged deep into the earth, housing containment chambers, restricted labs, and archives of forbidden knowledge. The deeper the level, the darker the secrets.
On Level 7, the cafeteria buzzed with mid-tier staff in white lab coats and gray uniforms, seated at sterile circular tables under LED panels mimicking sunlight. Tension simmered beneath the illusion of normalcy. A tired-looking man in his mid-thirties, H. Simmons, Research Analyst, stirred his coffee with a sigh. "Another memo dropped this morning," he muttered, voice low. "Management's losing it over that Scotland situation."
His coworker, T. Kline, Logistics Coordinator, a woman with a sharp bob, snorted as she bit into her protein bar. "Because that's what we're paid for, right? Chasing hill people and their so-called magic." She rolled her eyes. "Magic. Please. Probably some biotech we haven't cataloged yet."
Simmons leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't know. My buddy in Archives says it's bigger. The director himself is reviewing Scotland reports. If it's on Elias's desk, it's real."
Kline raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Management acts like everything's a crisis. Remember the Great Pyramid incident? 'World-altering event,' they said. Turned out to be a busted seismic sensor."
A junior technician at the next table, still wearing his visitor lanyard, piped up. "Maybe, but Langston's name came up in the briefing. They're not happy he lost some artifact."
The three exchanged glances, Simmons breaking the silence with a resigned tone. "Great. Another round of 'workplace efficiency' meetings while they pick who to blame. Welcome to the Enclave." He raised his cup in a mock salute, earning a dry chuckle from Kline.
Two floors above, in Boardroom Alpha, a far graver discussion unfolded. The room's dark steel walls glowed with blue geometric lines, an obsidian table dominating the space, surrounded by twelve high-backed chairs. At the head sat Director Elias, his silver hair cropped short, gray eyes piercing as he exuded authority.
Director Freya Navarro, Intelligence Division, stood at the table's other end, her poise meticulous as she flicked through holographic slides. "The Scotland situation continues to evolve," she began, voice crisp. "Operative Langston failed to secure the artifact. Reports indicate it's now with an individual named Robert McCallum."
A murmur rippled through the room. Elias raised a hand for silence. "Who is McCallum?" he asked, tone calm but unyielding.
Navarro summoned a holographic profile, Robert's fragmented details flickering into view—archaeologist, dig site connection, suspected magical activity. "Limited data. He's a scholar, unaffiliated with magical groups until recently. His actions suggest he's awakened significant magical abilities."
Elias's eyes narrowed. "And this artifact Langston lost?"
Navarro hesitated. "We believe it's a Sealing Rune, part of the ancient network isolating Albion's influence from Earth. It's critical to maintaining balance."
Director Renier Malek, Containment Operations, leaned forward, fingers steepled, his voice smooth. "If McCallum has the rune, he could strengthen Albion's connection or dismantle it entirely. Either would be catastrophic."
Elias absorbed this, expression unreadable. "And Langston? His failure?"
Malek's lips curved into a thin smile. "Retirement. He's a liability now."
Navarro nodded. "I agree. We have operatives ready to retrieve the rune and neutralize McCallum."
Elias's gaze swept the table, assessing each member. "Langston's failures can't be ignored. Initiate his retirement. As for McCallum, gather intelligence. I want everything—skills, allies, weaknesses. If he can disrupt the balance, we act decisively."
Navarro inclined her head. "Understood."
The meeting adjourned with quiet urgency. Elias remained seated as the council dispersed, his gaze fixed on a holographic map of Scotland dominating the table. He tapped the obsidian surface, the faint echo filling the room. "Balance must be maintained," he murmured. "At any cost."
Meanwhile, at the dig site, Snow's sapphire pulsed steadily as she sat beside Robert, her hands hovering over his chest. A cool, icy-blue aura spread from her palms, mingling with her healing spell as she worked to stabilize him. Robert's breathing was slow but even, his face pale, streaked with fatigue.
"Anything?" Hamish's voice was rough with concern as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
Snow shook her head, biting her lip. "Not yet. He's stable, I think, but he hasn't stirred." She glanced at the Aetherium Core in Robert's chest, its glow faint. "I'm giving him what mana I can spare, but I don't know if it's enough."
Hamish exhaled heavily, running a hand through his dark hair. Transformed just a day ago, his youthful vigor clashed with the worry etching his face. "Yer doin' fine, lass. More than fine. Whatever he's dealin' with, it's not your fault."
Snow's sapphire flickered as she paused, her frustration clear. "The villagers said it was that grub. It came out of nowhere, trying to destroy the grove. They said Robert fought it for hours. Alone."
Hamish nodded grimly. "Aye. They told me the same." He shifted, armor clinking softly. "A beast from the deep earth, drawn to magic like a moth to flame. And Robert stood his ground."
Snow's gaze lingered on Robert, her voice soft. "They said he used everything. Every spell, every ounce of mana. Even the crystal couldn't keep up with what he poured into the fight."
Hamish's jaw tightened. "And then he finished it. Took the bugger down with one final blow. They said the blast shook the whole grove."
Snow's brow furrowed, her sapphire flaring as she resumed her spell. "I wish I'd been here. I should've been here."
"Don't," Hamish said firmly. "Yer not to blame for bein' in the dungeon. He sent us there, remember? Said it was important, that we'd be better prepared." His gaze grew distant. "Maybe he was right. But I hate that he faced that beast alone."
Silence fell, broken only by the hum of Snow's magic. After a moment, she spoke, hesitant. "Do you think Moira will come back when he wakes?"
Hamish rubbed his neck, troubled. "Dunno. She's been quiet since he went down. Like she's waitin', or…" He shook his head. "She's tied to him somehow, that much I get. If she's silent, it's not a good sign."
Snow's sapphire flickered, her hands trembling as her mana dwindled. "It's like everything's waiting for him. The grove, the villagers, even the crystal. Nothing feels the same without him."
Hamish's hand rested on her shoulder, reassuring. "He'll wake, lass. He's tougher than he looks." A faint smile tugged his lips. "We've seen what he can do. If anyone can bounce back, it's Robert."
Snow's lips curved slightly, tentative. "I hope you're right." She channeled another wave of healing energy, her sapphire intensifying. They fell into a quiet rhythm, the hum of magic filling the room as they kept vigil.
Outside, the grove whispered in the wind, its magical fruit glowing under the pale Highland sun. The air shimmered with golden motes, though some flickered erratically near the site of the grub's attack, where the soil still bore faint scars of acid. Wildflowers near the central tree drooped slightly, their vitality strained, but small shoots pushed through the earth nearby, as if the grove fought to heal itself. Villagers glanced toward the cottage, whispering prayers to whatever powers might listen.
The murmur of voices drifted through the open window, blending with the Highland breeze and the clink of tools. Snow paused, her sapphire dimming as she listened. "They're still out there," she said softly, nodding toward the window. "The villagers haven't gone home."
Hamish stood, his tall frame casting a shadow as he moved to the window. He pushed it open further, taking in the scene. The grove spread before him, its vibrant rows shimmering faintly. Villagers moved among the crops, tending soil, spacing plants, pulling weeds. Hunters crouched near the grub's remains, knives flashing as they peeled hide and harvested chitin plates. Clay jugs filled with caustic poison oozed from the beast's glands, while two villagers struggled to lift a massive fang, lashing it to a wooden frame.
"They've turned the place into a hive," Hamish muttered, shaking his head. "Farmers, hunters, even tinkers. All pitchin' in."
Snow's expression softened. "They're helping because they believe in what he's doing. He fought for them, Hamish. For us. It's the least they can do."
Hamish chuckled dryly. "Not everyone's a hero. Some are just nosy, wantin' to see the fuss."
Snow gave him a pointed look. "And yet, they're here. Not hiding in their homes. They're here."
Hamish tilted his head in concession, watching a man scrape grub ichor into a jar, muttering about its use as a sealant. The settlement crystal pulsed nearby, its monotone voice issuing commands. "Attention: bring additional stones to the eastern quadrant. Ensure they are smooth and uniform. Confirm."
A villager rolled his eyes but complied, hefting a basket of river rocks. A wiry woman with sharp features shot the crystal a wary glance, then returned to organizing chitin plates. "Like a bossy robot," Hamish muttered. "Surprised anyone listens."
Snow stifled a laugh, her sapphire flaring as she resumed her spell. "Maybe they need direction. It's helping, in its own way."
Hamish snorted. "If by 'helping' you mean makin' everyone annoyed, then aye, it's a marvel."
Snow's smile faded as she looked at Robert. "They're doing it for him. For what he's building." Her voice dropped, uncertain. "I hope he wakes soon."
Hamish turned back, his expression softening. "He will, lass. He's tougher than he looks." He glanced at the golden-fruited tree, its glow dimmer than before, as if mourning Robert's state. "He's got all of us watchin' his back. Villagers, hunters, even that crystal. We'll keep things goin' until he's ready."
Snow nodded, her sapphire dimming as her mana waned. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, focusing on Robert's still form. "I hope it's enough."
Hamish's eyes narrowed, catching a familiar figure at the grove's edge, posture stiff under a wide hat. The figure lingered, then strode toward the village with purpose. "Langston," Hamish muttered, tone dark. "I should go break my leg off in his arse."
Snow's head snapped up, her sapphire flaring. "What?"
Hamish nodded toward the retreating figure. "That bastard's skulkin' about again. Didn't even help after the fight. Just stood there watchin'."
Snow's expression hardened, her gentle eyes narrowing. "We'll deal with him later. Right now, Robert needs us."
Hamish sighed, fist tightening. "Aye. But mark my words, whatever he's up to, it won't be good."
As the door creaked open and villagers peeked in to check on Robert, Snow turned back to her healing spell. The Enclave's shadow loomed closer, and the grove's magic flickered, waiting for its champion to rise.