The world was forged by the hand of God, shaped in five concentric rings descending ever deeper toward the molten heart of creation. These became known as the Five Levels—a solemn monument to both humanity's fragility and its unyielding will to endure.
In the beginning, each Level was given a divine purpose. The Creator decreed that every ring would serve as a cogwheel in the great mechanism of existence—each turning, each laboring, to keep the world in motion. The upper Levels were blessed with light and air, their people charged with rule and reason. The lower Levels sank into shadow and flame, their inhabitants tasked with toil, craft, and the raw work that sustained all above.
In time, society rebuilt itself around the vast crater of the world's heart. The higher the Level, the higher the hierarchy. Those above command; those below obey. Yet all remain bound by the same divine design—a world where every Level, no matter how high or low, must turn for the rest to survive.
***
"Which one do we live in?"
A small voice broke the silence. The children sat cross-legged in a circle, eyes wide as they listened to Ms. Aspen Molfo spin her stories.
Aspen offered them a gentle smile. "We live in Level 2."
"Ugh, that's so far down," one child pouted.
Aspen chuckled softly, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear.
"Can you tell us about all the Levels?" a curious girl asked, leaning in.
"Of course," Aspen replied. "Each Level has its role. Level 2, where we live, is responsible for supplying resources for all the Levels."
"Sounds boring," a boy groaned, flopping onto his back.
A loud slam interrupted the group. The children jumped as Salatin Molfo, Aspen's husband, brought his mug down hard on the table.
"Boring?" he barked. "Farming is the most noble work there is! To work with the land every day—that is a blessing!"
"Salatin, you're scaring them!" Aspen snapped.
He grumbled, crossing his arms. "Bah. Just telling it like it is."
Aspen gave the children a sheepish smile before continuing.
"Now, Level 3—that's the most populated. It's also the most chaotic. Crime runs rampant up there. That's why most folks avoid going there, even if it's just one level above us."
"Cool!" a boy gasped, eyes gleaming.
"You mean dangerous," a girl corrected him, giving him a stern look.
Aspen nodded. "Then we have Level 4, where the upper class lives. Lavish homes, beautiful clothes, the finest foods… It's a life most can only dream of."
The children exchanged glances, whispering among themselves.
"Is there a level beyond that?" one finally asked.
Aspen's smile faded into something more solemn. "Yes. There's Level 5—called Heaven on Earth. It's where the so-called gods live. They are untouchable, protected by the Heavenly Knights, elite guardians who serve no one but them."
The room fell into awed silence as Aspen gently closed her storybook.
"That's enough stories for today."
"Wait—what about Level 1?" a small voice asked.
"Yeah!" another chimed in. "You didn't tell us about that one!"
A shadow passed over Aspen's face.
"Let's just say… DON'T go there."
The children shifted uncomfortably.
"But why?" someone whispered.
"If Level 5 is Heaven," Salatin growled from his corner, "then Level 1 is Hell."
The room chilled. The children shrank back.
"Salatin!" Aspen snapped. "You're frightening them."
He sipped his drink, muttering something under his breath.
Aspen took a breath to steady herself as the children began to stir again.
"I want to visit Level 3 one day!" a boy announced brightly.
"My dream is to live in Level 4 and wear sparkly dresses," said a girl, twirling in place.
"I'm going to be a Heavenly Knight!" another boy declared, puffing out his chest with pride.
Laughter and dreams swirled around the room like fireflies.
Just then, the door burst open with a bang. A boy stumbled inside with his prostethic leg, his messy brown hair streaked with black at the end of his tips. His green eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Matsu!" Aspen cried, hands on her hips. "Where have you been?"
The boy beamed. "Look what I found!" he exclaimed, holding something out.
In his palm, a shimmering golden beetle glinted in the lamplight.
Gasps rippled through the room.
"A GOLDEN BEETLE?!" Salatin shouted, shoving children aside to get a closer look. His eyes lit up. "That's worth a fortune!"
Suddenly a vein throbbed in Aspen's forehead. "What did I tell you about bringing filthy things into the house?" she snapped.
Before anyone could stop her, she grabbed the beetle and flung it out the window. It vanished into the woods.
"MY BEETLE!" Matsu wailed, collapsing to his knees.
"MY MONEY!" Salatin echoed, just as dramatically.
Aspen sighed, waving the remaining children toward the door. "Go on now—time to head back to your parents."
The house fell quiet once they were gone. Aspen leaned in the doorway, gazing out into the twilight. The children's dreams echoed in her mind—dreams she once had, long ago.
She glanced over at Matsu, still sulking on the floor.
"Matsu," she said softly, "do you have a dream?"
He tilted his head, thinking. "A dream? Hmm… I don't think so."
"Nothing you hope for? Nothing you want?" Aspen asked gently.
Matsu's green eyes blinked up at her. "No. I just wanna work on the farm, with Grandpa and Grandma. Is that… bad?"
Aspen's heart softened. She knelt beside him and ruffled his hair with a warm smile.
"Of course not," she whispered. "Not at all."