NOVEL NEXT Chapter 24 - A Day in Bogota
Nick jolted awake in an unfamiliar bed, his heart pounding as the dream—no, the vision—of the Watchers Council faded like mist in the morning sun. He blinked at the ceiling, disoriented, until the memories flooded back: Marcus Eidolon's compound in Colombia. The midnight flight. Their hasty escape from Westlake.
Remember what was lost. You must not fail again.
Lysandra's words echoed like a physical presence, her eyes seemingly observing him across dimensions. Nick pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to clear his mind and anchor himself to reality.
That was a dream, right? Well, it was one hell of a bizarre dream.
A familiar chime cut through the mental fog, followed by the shimmering interface materializing in his vision:
🜂【ARCΛDIΛN SYSTΞM INTERFΛCE – CORE STATUS】🜂
[Host Pattern Detected: Dual-Soul Fusion]
[Identity Verified: Nicholas Valiente (Ω-Class)]
[System Tier: INITIATE | Class Alignment: SHAPER (Tier I)]
[Integration Progress: 48% (+12% since last assessment)]
Forty-eight percent. Almost halfway to... what? Full integration with Arlize's consciousness? Would Nicholas Valiente simply vanish, and Arlize assume control of this body?
"Reassuring," Nick muttered, swinging his legs over the bed.
The air felt wrong—or too right. At Westlake, mana had been subtle, easily ignored. Here in Marcus Eidolon's Colombian compound, it saturated everything, thick enough to taste. It prickled his skin like an electric current flowing through the molecules around him.
Nick extended his awareness, a technique now as natural as breathing. Energy currents pulsed through the walls, ceiling, and floor, threading into deep ley lines converging beneath the compound—lines ancient enough to hum with the Earth's own heartbeat.
A soft pulse from the Arcadian System flickered, filling his vision with new information.
🜂【ARCΛDIΛN SYSTΞM INTERFΛCE – ENVIRONMENTAL ANALYSIS】🜂
[Mana Density: 187% higher than standard surface levels. Primary Cause: Convergence of planetary ley lines within a stable geomantic node. Secondary Stabilization: Artificial reinforcement via localized dimensional seals.
Result: Ambient mana concentration increased. Dimensional Veil integrity reinforced.
⚠️ Note: Regional anomalies may mask mana signature fluctuations from external detection.]
Nick blinked, absorbing the information. So that was why the air here practically thrummed with energy. Not only did the compound sit atop a natural wellspring of earthen mana—but Marcus had somehow strengthened it.
Is that what he uses to stabilize the veil here? Nick wondered. But before that.
Will you be showing the full symbols from now on? It's kind of a lot.
The full screen retracted and a singular line of text in a smaller window appeared to the right of his vision.
[Do you prefer this way of communication instead?] The system asked.
Yeah, this is much better, thank you.
[As you wish.]
Picking up his phone as he walked towards the bathroom, the time read 7:13 AM. They'd arrived well after midnight, exhausted from the flight and the stress of their hasty departure. Marcus had shown them to their rooms—lavish by any standard, with private bathrooms, king-sized beds, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lush Colombian rainforest humming with hidden power. Stopping by one of the windows on his way to the bathroom, Nick couldn't help but admire the vibrant greenery and exotic fruits and plants visible just beyond the glass.
"Hard to believe this is real," Nick muttered as he headed for the shower. "I'd forgotten the world could be this beautiful."
Twenty minutes later, dressed in clothes that fit perfectly (raising more questions than answers), Nick navigated toward the central building. The compound was architectural poetry—glass and stone structures nestled among ancient trees, connected by walkways that seemed to grow organically from the forest itself.
He found Marcus in what appeared to be a command center, surrounded by holographic displays showing news feeds, financial data, and security footage from Westlake University.
"You're up early," Marcus noted without looking away from the screens. "I hope you slept well."
"Well enough," Nick replied, studying the mana flow around Marcus—a disciplined current of emerald energy. "What's happening at Westlake?"
"Lockdown, as expected." Marcus gestured to a feed showing security cordons. "Callahan Industries calls it a 'precautionary quarantine' after Thursday's 'incident.' They claim Professor Harrington went rogue."
"And people buy that?"
"The public is. The authorities..." Marcus gestured to one screen showing FBI agents at Willard Hall. "Less so. But Alexandra has enough government contacts to keep them at bay for now."
Nick frowned, scanning the other displays. "Where are Maggie and Jordan?"
"Jordan's been up since five, using the gym. Military habits die hard." Marcus smiled. "Maggie finally fell asleep around four AM after setting up a 'minimum viable network' in her room. I'd let her sleep."
Nick nodded, then noticed another feed—a luxury SUV approaching the compound's gates.
"Expecting company?"
"Yes," Marcus said, his expression tightening. "Our timetable has accelerated. I wanted to begin your assessments, but..." He gestured at the vehicle. "Your grandparents insisted on seeing you first."
Nick's stomach dropped. "My grandparents are here?"
"Francisco and Maria have lived here for the past year. They moved in after the funeral."
Before Nick could process this, a message alert blinked on one of Marcus's screens.
"Damn it," Marcus muttered. "They want to take you all into Bogotá. Show you around."
"Is that a problem?"
Marcus scrolled through what appeared to be security briefings. "It complicates things. We should be starting your training, not having you all gallivanting around Bogotá..."
"It's been a few years since I've been in the city, actually. It would be good to see it again," Nick said. "Maggie and Jordan should also get the chance to sightsee before our training begins, don't you think? Besides, they're my grandparents. And we're not at war yet."
"Yet," Marcus repeated forebodingly. "Fine. One day. But tomorrow, we start for real."
The reunion was as awkward as Nick had feared.
His grandparents stood in the compound's atrium—Francisco tall and stern in a crisp linen guayabera shirt; Maria, petite but commanding beside him. It had been a little over a year since the funeral. They'd had an explosive argument about his decision to attend Westlake instead of coming to Bogotá as they'd wanted.
"Nicolás," Maria said, her voice catching as she stepped forward with arms outstretched.
Nick hesitated, then accepted her embrace. She smelled of cinnamon and coffee, unlocking memories of childhood visits—of watching her cook while she told stories about his father's youth.
"Abuela," he murmured against her hair. "I'm sorry it's been so long."
She pulled back, cupping his face. "You're here now. That's what matters."
Francisco remained where he stood, his expression unreadable. "So," he said finally, "Westlake didn't work out after all."
Nick felt a flash of anger. "That's not—"
"Francisco," Maria chided, shooting him a warning look. "Not now."
The older man sighed, then extended his hand. "It's good to see you, Nicolás. You look... different." His gaze lingered on Nick's newly shaven head.
Nick accepted the handshake, feeling the subtle pulse of mana that passed between them—a test. Francisco was probing his energy signature.
"I am different," Nick acknowledged. "A lot has happened."
"So we've heard," Francisco said, eyes widening at Nick's response. His gaze shifted to Marcus. "But explanations can wait. Today, we show you Bogotá. You and your friends." A smile softened his stern features. "You haven't been here since you were thirteen, and much has changed."
On cue, Jordan appeared at the atrium entrance, followed by a bleary-eyed Maggie clutching a mug of coffee.
"Did I hear we're going on a road trip?" Maggie asked, blinking at the gathering. "I feel like I missed something important here."
Francisco chuckled, the lines around his eyes crinkling warmly. "You must be Maggie," he said, offering his hand. "Your message reached us a few weeks ago. Good thinking, niña."
Maggie blinked, caught mid-sip. She quickly shifted her mug and returned the handshake with a smile. "I'm just glad it made it through," she said. "I wasn't sure it would."
"It did," Francisco said approvingly. "And it told us exactly what we needed to know." He turned to Jordan, sizing him up with an appraising glance. "And you must be Jordan Keyes."
Jordan straightened instinctively, offering a firm handshake. "Sir—uh, Mr. Valiente. It's an honor."
"None of that 'sir' nonsense," Francisco said, gripping Jordan's hand firmly. "You're with Nicolás. That makes you family."
He held Jordan's hand a moment longer, his gaze sharpening. "You are with Nicolás, aren't you?"
Jordan stiffened but met Francisco's eyes steadily. "Yes, sir. I am."
Francisco studied him briefly, then laughed warmly as he released Jordan's hand. "Good. Very good."
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Jordan exhaled, flexing his fingers.
Maria moved to Nick's side, her smile gentle, her presence steady. She took Maggie's hand warmly, then Jordan's, giving each a nod of welcome. "We are so glad you're here. You're safe now. And after today," she added, eyes twinkling, "you'll know Bogotá better than any history book."
Maggie gave a sleepy laugh, cradling her coffee mug again. "Long as there's more coffee involved, I'm all in."
Francisco chuckled. "Plenty of coffee—and plenty of stories. Come. Bogotá awaits."
He clapped Nick on the shoulder. "And you, mi hijo—you owe your grandparents a proper tour."
Bogotá unfolded like a living painting—colors more vibrant, sounds more textured than Nick remembered. From the gold-adorned artifacts at the Museo del Oro to the whimsical figures at the Botero Museum, he momentarily forgot the looming crisis. For a few precious hours, they were just tourists—albeit with the security team Marcus had insisted follow them.
His grandparents proved excellent guides, taking them to hidden restaurants where locals outnumbered visitors ten to one. Francisco had mastered the art of securing tables at fully booked places, charming staff and patrons alike as he effortlessly switched between Spanish and English.
"Your grandfather is exactly as described," Jordan remarked after their third meal—a late lunch of arepas and grilled meats at a tiny café tucked away from tourist paths.
"You know about my grandfather?" Nick asked, surprised.
Jordan looked uncomfortable. "APEX has files on the Valiente family. Your grandfather was of particular interest to certain departments."
"Because of his connection to Marcus?"
"Among other things."
Before Nick could press further, Maria called them over to see a street performer creating detailed sculptures from molten glass. The artisan's fluid movements reminded Nick of a mage shaping magic. The conversation would have to wait.
As the afternoon deepened, Nick fell into an easy rhythm with his grandparents, the tension of their reunion gradually melting away. They spoke of neutral topics—architecture, food, the weather's impact on coffee farmers—carefully sidestepping any mention of his parents or the past year's estrangement.
They wandered the historic district's winding streets, the late afternoon sun filtering through clouds. The air buzzed with energy Nick recognized as concentrated mana—a convergence point of Earth's ley lines, as he recalled from the system message.
On a corner between a vibrant mural and a crumbling brick wall, a man in a heavy coat stood behind a small cart, steam rising lazily from the griddle. Despite the warm day, he clutched a chipped mug, sipping his coffee as if it were the elixir of life itself.
Francisco's face brightened the moment he spotted him.
"¡Don Leonardo!" Francisco called, waving enthusiastically.
The man turned, a wide grin breaking across his weathered face. "¡Francisco! ¿Hace cuánto, hermano?" He set his mug down carefully. Walking around the cart, he caught Francisco in a hearty embrace, clapping his back twice.
Leonardo's eyes twinkled as he surveyed Nick, Maggie, and Jordan. "Family, eh? Good. Food first. Always food first."
Before they could protest, he pressed two steaming arepas into each of their hands, wrapped in paper napkins, the dough golden and oozing cheese and a savory meat Nick couldn't quite identify. Leonardo winked at them as he did so.
"First one to finish gets coffee on the house," he joked, nodding at the battered thermos balanced precariously on the cart's edge.
They thanked him in a chorus of English and Spanish, moving to a nearby bench to unwrap their unexpected treats.
Nick tore into his first arepa, the flavors exploding on his tongue. Comforting, rich—the kind of food that felt like being folded into a warm hug. He glanced at the napkin in his hand, noticing neat handwriting scrawled along the edge.
"Life's too short for bad coffee."
Seeing the note, Maggie laughed, then quickly unfolded hers, revealing a different message:
"Espresso yourself before it's latte."
Jordan raised an eyebrow, flashing his napkin.
"Better latte than never."
They chuckled, exchanging amused looks—the vendor's coffee puns somehow making the arepas taste even better. A kind stranger, ten perfect bites, and a reminder of Bogotá's charm: easy to overlook, impossible to forget.
Yet as they finished eating and strolled away from the bench—and Señor Leonardo's cheerful cart—Nick sensed something shift beneath the surface. An intangible change he couldn't quite identify. Francisco moved with easy charm, but his eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings. María's smiles seemed genuine, but her gaze often lingered, measuring his words, his posture, and how he interacted with Maggie and Jordan.
Are they assessing me? Or all of us? he wondered. If so, why?
By the time they returned to the compound for dinner, Nick had cataloged dozens of subtle mana manipulations from Francisco—from easing their passage through crowds to deflecting attention when Maggie's questions about pre-Columbian artifacts threatened to make them conspicuous.
His grandfather was a master-level practitioner, using mana with such precision that Nick doubted anyone without Arlize's memories would have noticed.
It wasn't until they drove into the compound, and Nick was walking through the open courtyard with the others, that he realized his system had been quiet all day.
System, are you there?
[Present. Data accumulation in progress.]
[Warning: Proximity to multiple Ω-Class entities detected.]
[Security protocols engaged.]
Nick's thoughts stuttered. Multiple Ω-Class entities? Here? That classification was the same as his dual-soul status. What did that mean, and who else could—
"Nicolás," María called, interrupting his thoughts. "Come. Dinner is waiting."
Dinner at the compound was an unexpectedly grand affair. What Nick had assumed would be a private meal with his grandparents, Maggie, and Jordan transformed into a gathering of over fifty people—men and women in business attire whom Marcus introduced as "executive members of my team."
"Your corporation employs all these people?" Maggie asked as they took their seats at a long table in a hall that seemed more suited to diplomatic functions than family dinners.
"Eidolon Corporation is just the public face," Marcus replied. "What you see here is the Arcadian Initiative—researchers, security specialists, and operatives dedicated to preserving the balance between Earth and other dimensions."
Nick studied the gathering with renewed intensity. These people carried themselves differently—with alertness, disciplined mana signatures, and eyes that kept returning to him and his friends. They weren't corporate executives but something closer to a paramilitary organization.
They're definitely not your typical software engineers, that's for sure.
"How long has the Arcadian Initiative been in place?" Nick asked.
"Since 1967," Francisco answered from across the table. "The Harmonic Convergence. When the first cracks in the veil became noticeable to those who knew what to look for."
As the meal progressed, conversation flowed among the operatives—discussions of security protocols, supply chains, and training regimens that would sound ordinary in any corporate setting if not for the occasional mentions of mana fluctuations or dimensional anomalies.
Nick watched his grandfather, who commanded respect among the Arcadian personnel. Francisco seemed content to observe, speaking occasionally but with unmistakable authority.
As dessert was served, Francisco rose, capturing the room's attention without raising his voice.
"For those who haven't been introduced," he began, "this is my grandson, Nicholas, and his companions, Maggie and Jordan. They've come from Westlake University, where they experienced Callahan Industries' reckless experimentation firsthand."
Murmurs rippled through the assembly. Francisco raised a hand, and silence fell immediately.
"More importantly," he continued, "Nicholas has begun integration with the Arcadian System. He carries within him memories of Aurilia—memories that may prove crucial in the days ahead."
Without warning, Francisco extended his hand, palm up. Above it materialized a complex three-dimensional construct—a miniature replica of the multiverse map Nick had seen in the Watchers Council chamber. Glowing pathways connected countless worlds, each pulsing with its own distinct energy.
Gasps and whispers filled the room. The display showcased a masterwork of mana control, with Francisco effortlessly maintaining dozens of independent energy patterns.
"For decades, we've tried to understand what our ancestors knew," Francisco said, the map rotating steadily above his palm. "The dimensional pathways, the mana flow between worlds, the veil separating us from incomprehensible realities."
The map zoomed in on Earth. As Nick watched, hairline fractures appeared—cracks spreading across the veil.
"We're running out of time," Francisco continued gravely. "The veil is weakening. Unlike previous cycles of gradual mana awakening, human technological advancement has dangerously accelerated the process."
The image shifted, highlighting locations globally, including Westlake University.
"Callahan Industries believes they can control this awakening," Francisco said. "They are wrong. The veil doesn't just keep other realities out—it keeps us in, protecting Earth from forces beyond our comprehension."
With a subtle gesture, Francisco collapsed the display, the mana construct dissolving into shimmering motes of light.
"Nicholas," he said, turning to his grandson. "Your parents understood this. They sought a controlled awakening to help humanity adapt without self-destruction."
Nick felt a weight in his chest. "Until Alexandra Callahan murdered them."
Francisco's expression hardened. "Yes. They discovered her neural interface technology was creating artificial breach points in the veil, breaches that could potentially lead to full tears."
Maria reached across the table, placing her hand over Nick's. "Your parents were part of something larger, Nicolás. The Valiente family, on your father's side, has been connected to Arcadian energy for centuries—descendants of refugees who escaped Aurilia during its destruction through the cracks in the Veil, one that led to Earth."
"And on my mother's side?" Nick asked, his voice barely audible.
"The Browns," Maria said, her eyes soft with remembered grief. "Keepers of knowledge. Specialists in memory preservation and transfer. Your mother, Sienna, was the last of their line—until you. She preserved their heritage for you, knowing you would need it someday."
Nick's throat tightened. One whole lifetime passed without me ever knowing the truth.
"I didn't know," he said finally. "Any of this."
"That was by design," Francisco replied. "Your protection required ignorance, at least until you were ready. The day you chose Westlake over Bogotá... I was angry because I knew it would put you directly in Callahan's sights before you were prepared."
Nick met his grandfather's gaze. "You were right. But I'm here now."
Francisco nodded. "Then let's assess what we're working with."
He began to rise, intending to bring the dinner to a close—but paused as his eyes caught Maggie and Jordan's faces. Both sat unmoving, their features stony, tension radiating off them.
Realizing the conversation was far from over, Francisco exchanged a brief look with Marcus. No words were needed.
With a quiet rustle of motion, Marcus stood. As he did, fifty people from AI rose with him. Offering brief nods and respectful farewells, the group filed out of the dining hall, leaving only Nick's grandparents, Nick, Maggie, and Jordan to continue the conversation.
Maggie didn't speak. She hadn't even noticed that the others had left, her gaze still fixed on the space where the mana-map had hovered—her expression unreadable, jaw tight. Then, with effort, she spoke, her voice low and precise.
"So the Browns were memory keepers," she said slowly. "And the Valientes were seeded refugees from a destroyed mana civilization."
Maria nodded gently.
Maggie's eyes stayed locked on her. "Then why didn't anyone protect my brother, Elias Zhang? He worked with Nick's parents. Why did no one protect him?"
The room stilled.
"My brother was taken. Right after he was about to publish his research on resonance theory. After he said Callahan's neural tech crossed ethical lines." She looked at Nick, her voice tightening. "He said the veil was weakening, that Callahan's neural networks were destabilizing reality. He called it resonance interference, quantum memory bleed, dimensional fracture—ideas I couldn't grasp at the time."
She gestured toward the empty air where Francisco's map had spun above the table. "Until now."
Her fingers curled against the table's edge. "I told him to be careful. He vanished three days after warning me. And now I find out that your family has known about the Veil and its cracks for decades and didn't tell anyone?"
Maria tried to speak, but Maggie cut her off.
"My brother is out there. You need to help me find him."
She turned to Nick, voice firm. "You want my help? Then let's get one thing straight. I'm not backing you because you're some chosen one. I'm here to find my brother. And if what you are helps bring him home—then I'm all in."
Nick nodded once, solemnly.
Jordan had stayed quiet throughout Maggie's outburst, but now he leaned forward, fingers laced together tightly, his voice rougher than usual.
"I've seen the veil. Not the map version—the consequences." He glanced at Francisco, then Nick. "The thing is, I was trained to treat this like a surveillance op. Catalog anomalies. Track cognition spikes. But after the Westlake explosion? After I saw people convulsing, bleeding from their eyes, their brains wiped clean, hijacked like broken puppets..."
He exhaled sharply. "I knew we were never just watching a glitch."
Jordan locked eyes with Nick. "They've been using us to tag mana-sensitive people. To predict whose brains will crack first when the veil tears. You? You weren't on their watchlist. You were the control variable. The one they couldn't predict."
Nick's heart pounded against his ribs. "And you went along with it."
"I did," Jordan admitted. "Until the night I saw you move before the blast hit. Until I realized my reports were being scrubbed, altered, funneled to someone above even the Joint Oversight Committee. That's when I planted a tracker in the Tower lab. And when I bugged my own dorm—I wanted to know what they'd say about you behind closed doors."
Nick stared at him. "You were spying on your own side."
Jordan didn't flinch. "Because I don't know who my side is anymore."
No one spoke after Jordan's confession.
Francisco let the silence linger, his gaze sweeping across the table, weighing each person.
Finally, he stood—slowly this time—and placed both palms on the table, his expression unreadable.
"We've all carried pieces of this puzzle," he said finally. "In silence. In pain. But now those pieces are on the table."
"I wanted tonight to be a beginning," Francisco continued. "And it is. But not the one I expected."
He looked to Maria, who nodded and quietly summoned the staff to begin clearing plates.
"You've all had a long journey. One day of delay won't collapse the veil."
He turned to Nick last, a flicker of emotion finally breaking through. Pride, maybe. Or something heavier.
"Arlize or not," he said, "you are still my grandson. And the world will need both of you."
Then he stepped over to Maria, gently wrapped her arm around his, and together they walked out. The doors shut behind them with a soft click.
Nick sat in silence still processing everything he'd heard that night. His system, quiet throughout dinner, now shimmered faintly at the edge of his vision.
Maggie leaned back in her chair, arms crossed but shoulders relaxed for the first time in hours. "Interface diagnostics..." she muttered. "Sounds vaguely ominous."
Jordan just nodded, his gaze distant. "Let's hope tomorrow doesn't kill us."
Nick didn't respond. He stared at the empty space where the mana-map had floated just moments before, his voice barely rising above a whisper.
"Let it try."