Chapter 2: Prophet’s Son

“Pray to the goddess Astrea.”

The room was quiet except for the soft murmurs of prayer. Thick incense hung in the air. The villagers knelt, eyes closed, hands folded before a chipped fragment of stone. Not a statue, not some grand idol—just a piece of rock said to hold the essence of the goddess herself.

At the front stood the prophet, calm, steady, dressed in simple robes marked with signs of prosperity. To outsiders, he was a priest. To the village, he was more than that. Their guide. Their healer. Their hope.

As the session ended, he faced the crowd with a warm voice. “Thank you, my friends. The goddess sees your devotion.”

The villagers rose slowly, eyes soft, some smiling, some curious. A few stepped forward for blessings. The prophet touched their heads gently, one by one. Then, he raised his hand.

“I have good news to share.”

The room buzzed. A few elders leaned in. “What is it, Prophet?” asked one old woman.

He smiled. “Do you remember the exam my son, Xavier, took last month?”

Murmurs of yes. Nods.

“He passed. And not just passed—he’s earned a scholarship to Astraeus Academy.”

The room exploded with cheers. Xavier’s name echoed through the walls. But the boy wasn’t there.

“Where is he?” someone asked.

A young kid tugged on the prophet’s robe. “He’s not here. He’s lifting rocks again. Skipped prayers.”

The prophet’s smile faded. No surprise. Just concern.

They hurried out, feet thudding against the stone floor. The prophet followed at a slower pace.

They found Xavier in a back courtyard. Sweat on his brow. Hands on a rock. His black hair hung low, hiding his eyes. But those red eyes—sharp, focused—stared at the rock like it had insulted his entire bloodline.

The rock wasn’t huge. But for Xavier, it was Everest.

He grit his teeth. Muscles tensed. He lifted.

The rock left the ground. For a second, it stayed up.

Then blood sprayed from his mouth. He dropped to the floor.

“Xavier!”

“Get water!”

“Is he breathing?!”

The villagers crowded around, panicking. His body had always been weak. Anything—stress, heat, effort—could break him. It had before.

The prophet knelt beside him, hand on his neck.

A pulse.

Then Xavier’s eyes fluttered open.

Relief swept through the crowd.

“What were you thinking?” someone scolded.

Xavier’s voice was soft, but stubborn. “I want to get stronger. I want to help… I’m sorry I’m weak.”

“You were born with it,” said a woman gently. “Don’t blame yourself.”

The prophet didn’t say anything. Just watched. Then placed a hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “Come. We need to talk.”

He led Xavier under the old tree in the courtyard’s corner. Its twisted branches cast deep shadows. Quiet. Safe.

Xavier sat on the stone bench, wiping the blood from his lip. “What is it, Father?”

“You passed the exam,” the prophet said. “Astraeus Academy gave you a full scholarship.”

Xavier blinked. “What?”

He hadn’t studied. Hadn’t even read the questions properly. The exam had been some weird multiple-choice test. Ten drones. Three professors watching. All high-tech stuff the village barely tolerated. He’d just circled random options because his father told him to. He hadn’t even understood half the terms.

“I… guessed everything. How did I pass?”

“You did,” the prophet said. “And you’re going to the academy.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“You must.”

Xavier looked away. “We don’t use money. I’ll need a place to stay. Food. Clothes. That city’s not cheap.”

The prophet nodded. “Our ancestors bought land in Astraeus City before it was ever built. Most of it, in fact.”

Xavier frowned. “What…?”

“My brother, Eamon, handles it all now. He’s already waiting for you in the city. He’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to worry about money.”

Xavier’s mind scrambled for another reason. “I’m the only son. According to tradition, I have to stay here. Be the next prophet.”

The prophet’s smile widened, and he placed a reassuring hand on Xavier’s shoulder. “Xavier, you do not have to become the next prophet. You are destined for something greater… something far greater.”

Xavier looked at his father, confusion and curiosity battling in his eyes. “What do you mean, Father?”

The prophet’s voice was filled with conviction. “You are destined to become the greatest, Xavier. Your path lies beyond this village, beyond anything we have ever known. This is your chance to fulfill that destiny.”

The day finally came. Xavier was leaving the village.

The whole place had gathered to send him off. Some smiled. Some cried. Most just stood with that quiet pride that hit harder than words ever could.

“Take care of yourself,” an old woman said, eyes already misty.”Eat properly. Don’t overwork,” added another.”Stay away from spicy food,” someone else warned.”Make friends. But don’t trust too easily.”A young woman stepped forward and handed him a pouch. “Herbs. For your health. And come back, okay?”

Xavier nodded, heart heavy. “I’ll miss you all.”

Then came the rumble of an old mechanical car — a relic from the pre-tech age. No electronics. Just gears and oil. The villager driving it gave Xavier a grin.

“Ready?”

Xavier took a breath. “Yeah.”

The ride to Astraeus City was long and rough, but Xavier barely felt it. His mind was a storm — excitement, fear, hope, all tangled.

At the city border, guards stopped the car. Xavier showed them the academy’s letter. They studied it, then stepped aside.

“This is your stop,” one said to the driver.

Xavier turned back. “Thank you. Tell everyone I’ll write when I can.”

“We will.” The villager smiled, then drove off.

Xavier followed the guards into a small check-up station. Blue lights scanned his body as he stood in a cube-like scanner box.

Halfway through, his knees gave out. His vision blurred. He collapsed.

They rushed him to the med-bay.

“He’s weak,” one guard muttered, checking his vitals. “No way his body can handle even a basic cyber implant.”

“How’s he gonna survive out here?” the other whispered.

Xavier woke to their voices. They handed him a meal and a nutrient drink.

“Eat. You’ve got someone coming.”

Half an hour later, a sleek black car pulled up. A man in a custom suit stepped out.

“Xavier,” the man smiled, “I’m Eamon. Your uncle. Your father wrote to me often.”

“I remember you from the paintings,” Xavier said quietly. “Father always spoke well of you.”

Eamon smiled. “Let’s get you settled.”

Xavier climbed in. As the city came into view, his jaw dropped.

Astraeus was alive. Glowing. Unreal.

Skyscrapers stabbed the sky. Holograms danced on every surface. Flying cars zipped past. Humans, aliens, and strange species roamed the streets like it was normal. And here he was — one of them now.

An hour later, the car stopped.

“Welcome home,” Eamon said.

A massive mansion stood before them.

Xavier stepped forward — but Eamon held him back. His smile twitched.

The car suddenly pulled away.

Xavier blinked. “What…?”

“Come,” Eamon said. “I need to show you something.”

They left the mansion behind and walked to the Nexus Tower — one of the tallest structures in the city. Over 8,000 apartments inside. Bottom floors were slums. Middle floors, tolerable. Top floors, rich as hell.

It wasn’t just a home. It was a city in a building. Malls, food zones, gyms, all of it stacked inside. Even hired corporate cops patrolled it — though crime still ran wild.

They took the elevator. It groaned and clicked.

Second floor. Narrow hallway. Room BP-169.

Eamon unlocked the door.

Xavier stepped in.

It was… small. Beyond small. A box. A single bed space. No furniture. A toilet barely big enough to stand in. No kitchen. Just a weird altar in the corner — with a cracked chunk of some holy rock.

“What is this?” Xavier asked.

Eamon’s shoulders dropped. He broke. Tears hit the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “This is all I could afford. The investments… everything’s gone. Someone took it all. There’s nothing left, Xavier.”

Xavier stared at his uncle. “What do you mean gone? How could that even happen?”

Eamon took a deep breath, sorrow flashing in his eyes. “Let me start from the beginning. I was fifteen when I came to Astraeus City. I handled everything related to our ancestors’ investment. We called it Lumina.”

He paused, gaze going distant. “You know the tradition. If a prophet had two sons, one would become the next prophet, the other the CEO of Lumina. They made sure of it—married multiple wives just to increase the chances of having more than one son. But this time, for the first time in centuries, the prophet had only one son.”

Xavier blinked. “Me…”

Eamon nodded. “I was trained by my uncle. By eighteen, I was running Lumina myself—overseeing everything. Software, hardware, gaming, internet, media, food, drinks, cars, planes, real estate, health, space—we had a piece in every pie. Not just Astraeus City, the whole planet knew our name.”

Xavier listened quietly, a mix of awe and tension building in his chest.

“We were doing good,” Eamon continued. “Helping the world. Then a civil war broke out. Two years of chaos, and when it ended, the city had new leaders. But Lumina? Untouched. Still independent. Still thriving.”

His voice dropped. “But I wasn’t. I was lonely. Couldn’t trust anyone. Couldn’t leave either. I missed home. Wanted to rest, settle down. But there was no one. No family, no friends. Just… empty.”

Xavier stayed still.

“Then I met her,” Eamon whispered. “A woman on the street. Homeless. She was kind. I fell in love. We got married. Had twin girls. I never told her who I really was. I lived like a regular office worker. Felt guilty about the lies, but… I was happy.”

He looked away, voice tightening. “Until I lost everything.”

Xavier tensed. “What happened?”

“She was fake,” Eamon said. “A plant. Sent by a rival corp to destroy me from the inside. She acted the whole time. She got everything—access to secrets, files, codes. Even my personal thoughts. She played the long game, and I didn’t see it.”

“She took Lumina?”

“She transferred everything to her own company and disappeared. I found her. Sued her. But I lost.”

Xavier’s brows furrowed. “Didn’t you have proof?”

Eamon’s eyes darkened. “In this new capitalism, money is everything. It buys laws, lawyers, judges. Morals don’t matter. A father would sell his son for the right price. A mother would abandon her daughter. Money is the new god. Heaven for the rich. Nothing but pain for everyone else.”

Xavier stayed quiet. That world sounded like a nightmare.

“When we divorced,” Eamon said softly, “she got custody of one daughter. I kept the other. I’ve been here ever since, working twenty hours a day as a janitor at the metro station. Just to survive.”

“But… how?” Xavier asked. “How could she take everything if you were so careful?”

Eamon looked hollow. “Because I wasn’t careful with her. She didn’t break in. I opened the door.”

Xavier clenched his fists, heart sinking.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Eamon wiped his face, shaking his head. “I just… I can’t give up. Not now. Not with my daughter still here. Not with you showing up. I have to fight. For what’s left of our name. For Lumina.”

Xavier looked around the small room, nothing but a mattress, a fan, and an old heater. And his uncle. Still standing.

“We’ll find a way, Eamon. We’ll reclaim what’s rightfully ours and bring those who betrayed us to justice. I will save our ancestors’ legacy.”

Eamon’s voice trembled as he begged Xavier, “Please, Xavier, don’t say anything to your father. I couldn’t bear the shame if he knew the truth.”

Xavier looked at his uncle, a mix of confusion and suspicion swirling in his mind. One might think Eamon was lying, scheming something, and tricking Xavier. That Eamon had betrayed the tribe and the family. Of course, such thoughts crossed Xavier’s mind too.

But Xavier quickly pushed those doubts aside. He remembered his father’s words, his unwavering trust in Eamon. His father had a sense… a sight… a prophetic ability, and he was always right, no matter the time. Whatever he said would happen, if he did something, it was for the good. Just like how he asked Xavier to give the exam and how Xavier managed to pass and even score a scholarship. The prophet could sense people, know their true intentions, and even their future intentions. So if the prophet thought so highly of Eamon, Xavier trusted him without any second thoughts.

Xavier looked at his uncle, his voice steady and reassuring. “I promise, Eamon. I won’t say anything to Father.”

’Though, I think father already knows about this and this is why he sent me here.’

Eamon breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you, Xavier. I couldn’t bear to disappoint him.”

Xavier then turned his attention to the suit Eamon was wearing and the luxury car he had arrived in. “Eamon, about the suit and the car… how did you afford them?”

Eamon’s expression turned somber. “The car was a rental, and the suit too. I sold the family heirloom, the watch, for some money. I rented the car and the suit, thinking that your father might also come to the city border to drop you off. I didn’t want him to find out!”

Xavier’s heart ached for his uncle. The lengths Eamon had gone to, the sacrifices he had made, all to maintain a facade of success and stability. It was a stark reminder of the desperation and loneliness Eamon had endured.

Eamon glanced at his watch, a look of urgency in his eyes. “Xavier, it’s time for me to go to work. I have to leave now.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp 100$ bill, handing it to Xavier. “This is all I have now. I’ll try my best to take care of you from now on.”

It was the Academy’s orientation day, and Xavier had only an hour to make it to the academy.

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