The council chamber was as sterile as ever—glass walls polished to a mirrored sheen, reflecting the soft silver light that pulsed rhythmically with the city below. The architecture was not meant to inspire. It was meant to impress.

Pyxis stood at the center of the room, facing the four elders seated high above him in crescent formation. Their robes, embroidered with the same silver constellations as his, shimmered with an air of quiet authority.

But tonight, Pyxis saw them differently.

Not as wise leaders.

As gatekeepers.

Caelum, the eldest, spoke first—his voice calm, but rehearsed.

“You have returned early. I trust you have seen how the people thrive under our guidance?”

Pyxis inhaled slowly, the pulse of the compass against his chest steady. He chose his words carefully.

“I’ve seen the people exist under your guidance. Survive, yes. Thrive? No.”

A ripple of tension. Elder Sovia, the voice of strategy, shifted in her chair, narrowing her gaze.

“Survival is progress, Pyxis. Stability requires structure. We have cultivated a world without chaos, without war. The cities function. The peaks inspire.”

“Inspire?” Pyxis’s voice sharpened. “You mean they distract. The Step-Up System. The promotions. The hand-picked success stories you broadcast every day. It’s a spectacle, not opportunity.”

Brax, the enforcer, leaned forward. AHis tone was more direct.

“You imply we lie to the people? Tell me—who benefits from chaos, Pyxis? We’ve created a world where no one starves, where everyone works. Is it perfect? No system is. But this one works.”

“Works for you,” Pyxis shot back. “I’ve seen the housing blocks. Families paying ‘growth taxes’ while you flood their feeds with images of luxury. Small businesses crushed by new tariffs while you dangle ‘innovation grants’ no one can qualify for. You’ve made the climb impossible.”

A brief silence.

Sovia’s voice softened, but it was the practiced calm of a politician.

“The climb was never promised to all, Pyxis. Not everyone can rise. The people understand this—”

“No, they believe it because you’ve made them believe it. You stream endless stories of the one worker who gets elevated. The rags-to-riches fable you carefully curate to keep them striving—”

“To keep them motivated,” Sovia corrected. “Do you understand what would happen if we let that belief crumble? If they stopped working? If the entire structure collapsed because of one generation demanding more than they contribute?”

Pyxis shook his head.

“I’ve seen what happens when they stop believing. They break. Quietly. The burnout. The debts they can never pay. The laws you change when they get too close to rising. You aren’t protecting stability—you’re maintaining control.”

Caelum raised a hand, his voice deep and measured.

“Control is not a sin, Pyxis. Control ensures order. Look at the world before the Peaks were established. Conflict. Division. We have brought peace. Structure. The people are safe.”

Pyxis exhaled sharply, voice trembling but steady.

“Safe from what? Opportunity? Growth? No. They’re manageable. That’s not peace. That’s submission.”

The council chamber felt heavier now, the silver lights pulsing in sync with the tension.

Brax’s voice turned cold.

“And what would you have us do? Remove the systems? Tear down the merit structure? Let the masses dictate policy with their emotions? Do you not see the danger in uncontrolled freedom? How quickly the weak turn to blame and chaos?”

Pyxis stepped closer, the compass on his chest glowing brighter now, his voice quieter but unwavering.

*“You fear losing the illusion. But the people below? They already feel the weight of this lie. They know the climb is a game. You just keep shifting the rules—raising taxes, lowering wages, keeping them exhausted so they won’t question it. You tell them to work harder while the cost of living rises. You preach balance while the profits flow only to the peaks.

They don’t need protection.

They need truth.”*

A silence so profound it felt like the entire mountain had exhaled.

Caelum’s gaze remained hard.

“And if they’re not ready for it? What if the truth fractures them further? Are you prepared for the cost of breaking a world we have sustained for generations?”

Pyxis met his stare without flinching.

“If a world can only be sustained by lies, then it was broken from the start.”

The compass flared once more. The system was breaking.

But so was their control over him.