The ruins of Comunicaré, the state of communication, stretched like a graveyard of antennas and towers. Twisted steel, fractured screens, and tangled cables—like sleeping serpents—covered miles of empty terrain. The once-thriving metropolis, where voices had echoed to every corner of Norgalia, now lay in silence, broken only by the wind that howled through shattered hallways.
Pablo stepped carefully among the debris, boots crunching over shattered glass and cracked tiles. Dust clung to his cloak, and the scent of scorched circuits filled the air. Behind him, Lioren moved with quiet precision, carrying a toolkit patched together from salvaged pieces. The young signal expert had joined the restoration effort after hearing rumors that someone was trying to awaken the country. His face, streaked with soot, betrayed exhaustion—but also determination. His broken headset, always perched on his shoulder, was a constant reminder of his father, who had worked here during the Republic.
"Is this where they broadcasted the regime's speeches?" Pablo asked, brushing cobwebs from an old console.
"Not speeches," Lioren corrected quietly. "Here they lied. Here they silenced the people. Here they erased voices."
He connected an ancient generator. Sparks hissed as the system flickered to life. For a fleeting second, a voice from decades past escaped the rusted speakers:
"Presidential Order 47. Mandatory silence in the districts of Agrobia and Fortis…"
Pablo's hand slammed down on the console. "No more silence. Norgalia must hear itself again."
⸻
Weeks passed before the first tower returned to operation. From its apex, a test signal was sent: a simple wave of audio that stretched across the country. A little girl in Ciudad Gris caught it on an old radio. A fisherman off the coast of Umbrallya heard it crackle through his tin receiver. For the first time in decades, the nation vibrated with sound. Music, laughter, even the quiet murmurs of life returned to streets that had known only emptiness.
One night, as Pablo and Lioren scoured the central archives, a terminal flickered to life. A hidden file had been triggered—something not intended to exist.
The recording sent shivers down their spines.
It was the voice of the last president of the Republic, Soren Vale His voice was weak and choked, as if he were about to die Fear and desperation dripped from every word:
"If you are hearing this, I am likely already dead. The Pillars… they did not die. They faked their disappearance. There is something beneath the core of Comunicaré, something even Shastakan sealed centuries ago…"
The transmission cut abruptly. Lioren swallowed hard. "Wh-what… what is beneath?"
Pablo's eyes darkened, his jaw set. "We're about to find out." He switched on his flashlight, its beam cutting through the thick darkness.
⸻
The path below the central station was a maze of ancient conduits and collapsed walkways. Every step echoed, every metallic groan of the old tunnels threatening to betray them to the shadows. Behind a wall of reinforced concrete, engraved with symbols no scholar had ever deciphered, they found a sealed door of black Vidrium. Its surface shimmered faintly, as if aware of their presence.
Pablo reached out. Energy surged from the door, pushing him back. His hand sizzled against the raw power. The same symbol carved into the royal sword of knowledge glowed faintly in response. He drew the blade. As its edge neared the door, the Vidrium trembled, emitting a low hum… then the heavy gate slowly slid open.
Inside was a chamber of darkness, yet the glow from ancient screens lit the walls. On each monitor, images of the Pillars frozen in repose. It was as though they had been observed—monitored—until very recently.
A screen flickered. Gabriel.
He didn't speak. He didn't move. Only his gaze met Pablo's, and a subtle smile ghosted across his face.
"They're here," Pablo whispered, the weight of realization settling over him.
"Who… who could have kept this hidden?" Lioren stammered.
"Not who," Pablo corrected, "but what. And what they left behind is the key."
⸻
Back on the surface, the night air was cold, biting at their faces. Pablo's mind raced. The restoration of communication wasn't just about reconnecting radios or reactivating towers—it was about awakening a nation, reminding its people that they were not alone.
By dawn on the 120th day, the communication network was fully operational. Music filled the streets. News reports began broadcasting from stations rebuilt by Pablo's volunteers. People laughed, cried, and shouted across rooftops, reconnecting with friends and relatives after decades of isolation.
And yet, in the shadows, a silent warning moved unseen: the Pillars were alive.
⸻
III. The Hidden Archives
The discovery of the sealed chamber ignited a new plan. Pablo realized that to fully restore Norgalia, he needed knowledge that had been deliberately hidden—archives containing the blueprints for energy grids, transportation networks, and even defensive systems, all buried beneath the ruins of Comunicaré.
Days turned into nights as Pablo and Lioren mapped out secret tunnels beneath the city. They moved cautiously, aware that old security mechanisms, designed to protect knowledge from outsiders, could still trigger. Pressure plates, hidden tripwires, and ancient wards of Vidrium threatened every step.
"Do you think the Pillars knew we would come here?" Lioren asked, nervously scanning the walls.
Pablo shook his head. "I don't know. But whoever did… they left these clues for someone worthy."
In one hidden alcove, they discovered a trove of old servers, their lights blinking weakly. Pablo wiped layers of dust from the glass screens and activated one. Lines of code and schematics cascaded down the display. One file, labeled 'Project Unity', contained detailed schematics of a communication network far more sophisticated than anything the Republic had used.
"This… this could rebuild everything," Lioren whispered.
"Not just rebuild," Pablo corrected. "It could connect every corner of Norgalia—not just cities, but villages, farms, even hidden settlements long forgotten."
⸻
IV. The First Broadcast
After weeks of meticulous work, Pablo and his team were ready for the first major broadcast. They climbed the highest tower of Comunicaré, the wind whipping through the skeletal remains of the structure. The transmitter hummed to life, carrying not only sound but a message of hope.
"People of Norgalia," Pablo spoke into the microphone, his voice steady and commanding, "you are not alone. We have survived. We have returned. And together, we will reclaim what was lost."
Across the country, radios crackled. Families stopped their work to listen. Children pressed their ears to tin receivers. Farmers paused in the fields. For the first time in decades, a single voice united the scattered remnants of a nation.
And in the shadows, the monitors in the secret chamber flickered again. The Pillars watched, silent but present, their influence far from over.
⸻
V. Awakening a Nation
In the following days, as the towers went online one by one, communities responded. Messages, broadcasts, and simple songs traveled across the restored network. People shared news, offered help, and began rebuilding their shattered lives.
Pablo walked through the streets of Ciudad Gris, his cloak dragging through the dust. He listened to the laughter of children, the chatter of markets, the faint hum of trains being restored. Every sound reminded him why he could not fail.
"We are not just restoring buildings," he said to Lioren, "we are restoring a people. Their courage, their voices… their lives."
And as the sun set over the horizon, painting the ruins in gold, Pablo understood that this was only the beginning. The Kingdom was awakening—not just in stone and steel, but in the hearts of its people.
The Pillars watched. The people listened. And Norgalia… was alive once more.