Each eye stared through their souls as if convicting them.
Zayne stepped forward, gripping Awan's shoulder. "What the hell is this? Malik, look away."
Malik covered his eyes with his hands, but they began to sting. The eyes didn't stop looking, and it felt like they were now burning a hole through his hands.
The burning of a million needles picked at his skin each second he covered his eyes. The sensation became a numb, static-like pain that he could barely react to, but he felt it.
Awan kept a cold gaze. "Don't mind them! I feel like they might recognize you guys!" He gleamed, waving to the eyes.
Zayne gripped tighter. "Do you just smile through every misfortune in your life?"
Suddenly, many calm steps ensued from the distance.
Creak.
At the same time, the golden gates opened. The eyes remained staring.
A taller figure in the same rags that Awan wore stood in front of them. He looked nothing like the tribesman, but he still had that same smile.
"What seems to be the problem?" the man asked, grinning forcefully.
Zayne turned his head. "Who are you?"
The man lightly laughed. "Please let him go. My name is Guan Sui, and we are the tribesmen of Marah. I was originally from Zi Jin Cheng. I left after the catastrophe from over a decade ago."
Guan Sui was fair-skinned. His eyes were sharp, and his hair was pin-straight and jet-black. His long smile took up the majority of his face.
Zayne let go and paid close attention to him.
Malik slowly stood up. "What are those eyes?"
Guan Sui turned his head toward the eyes as if he didn't know they were there.
Then he clapped. "Ah! It was a gift from our village chief. He says they are the eyes of those who have sworn to protect us. And now they are preserved here, so that they can always watch us."
He gave a strange look to Awan, seemingly disappointed at his silence.
Then, grabbing Awan, "Now, I assume our boy of harmony didn't startle you visitors, isn't that right, junior?" Guan Sui said condescendingly.
Awan nervously laughed. "No, no. You know how I am. All jokes."
Smacking his back, "Let's hope you keep it that way. Observe our guests, and make them feel at home," Guan Sui said.
He walked away, maintaining the conniving grin on his veil.
Awan took a breath. "Well yeah, guys, my friends are crazy, as you can see. But I'm sure the eyes up there are decorations. If we ask my father, we should confirm that it's not anything to worry about."
Malik shook his head. The eyes stopped looking real to him and became more like art pieces. It didn't matter whether they were real or not; for his own sake, he insisted they were only decorations.
"Yeah, friends. Say, who is your father?" Malik asked.
Awan smirked. "He's a very wise man. He made a plethora of ideas for how this place should look, operate, and thrive."
When he smiled, his teeth glinted with a hint of gold. Kaya noticed it but decided to keep her eyes dark for now.
I've never seen that before. Is that why his speech sounds so odd to me at times?
Kaya inspected all possible reasons, but a voice interrupted that thought.
"Let's enter now, friends. We've been hoping for visitors such as y'all for a long time now," Awan said, waving to them.
As they followed, they passed the brink of the gates and saw it.
Beyond the large forest lay the village. No, a civilization.
When Malik saw it, he had expected sticks and stones along with huts, but he never expected to see such advanced technology before him. In fact, their own crew might've been the primitive ones all along.
Wells connected to systems on houses, and black roofs that filtered clean water to drink. Golden walls that held plants, fertilizing them sequentially. Devices on each house that determined the weather and likelihood of a storm.
It said that a storm was imminent, and that it would be erratic.
Lawnmowers moved by themselves, keeping the grass in top-notch shape. Children ran around with headphones that appeared to connect them to their parents. But most importantly, the people looked happy. A happiness that was reasonable, but exaggerated nonetheless.
Around the houses, thick trees with falling leaves blossomed with flowers of all colors within them. They whispered lightly as the soft breeze passed swiftly.
"So? What do you guys think?" Awan asked, spreading his arms wide.
Kaya's eyes widened. "I didn't expect you guys to be so advanced. It's nothing like home."
Awan blew a raspberry. "Oh please, Ishkana has plenty of stuff like this. Did you guys seriously think we were using sticks and stones or something?"
In unison, they all nodded their heads.
"Fair enough. Let's explore. There's a lot more than just this," Awan mumbled.
They walked past an assortment of houses, children's laughter, and a buzzing from something above.
Malik looked up, but then the noise stopped.
That noise keeps bothering—
Thud.
He caught his fall with both of his hands. Malik got up and dusted himself off.
Noticing the floor, he saw a plethora of indented lines all over the ground.
"Oh yeah, we have that because it helps us harmonize with the place more. You know, in case someone went missing, we'd be able to trace their steps."
Malik's piercing gaze locked onto the tribesman as he spoke casually.
Kaya clicked her tongue. "But that doesn't sound very efficient, and it's not like everyone here is from Ishkana."
"No, no. The people from Ishkana are the majority here. There are people from the other realms sprinkled here and there," Awan said.
A moment passed. The breeze silenced as a leaf fell.
Malik stepped forward. "Tell me, Awan . . . why would people go missing here?"
Awan took a step back. "I said it as a 'what if' scenario. Luckily, that kind of stuff isn't very common anymore."
"Anymore?" Malik interjected.
"You don't expect a new tribe to stay fully intact, especially in the middle of nowhere, right? I mean, this itself is an impossibility, a miracle as one would say," the tribesman argued.
He continued, "Sadly, the eye that observes us sees all that happens, but sometimes can't do anything to stop it."
. . .
Without speaking, they continued walking.
Awan looked around, keeping his smile, as if somebody would scold him if he stopped.
Zayne kept walking, but he saw the children running to their mothers. Their smiles brought a certain warmth to him, but it made his own smile hang lower, as if a weight were attached to it.
As Kaya carefully strolled, she saw a family on the porch of one of the houses. She saw how they connected, hugged, and bonded, and it made her want to look away.
Malik took every step into consideration until up ahead he saw a father and his son. Both of them held gold balloons with eyes on them. Their laughter made his ears ring, and their handholding made his eyes water.
This place was happy, but is it happy for them?
Regardless, the residents of all realms kept their grins as the group moved past them.
Then—
Malik couldn't move.
He heard their chants, their screams, and their cries.
He saw it. The eyes. Floating eyes from above that judged him and laughed at him.
They were all celebrating it, but why? Why celebrate such a being that wants nothing to do with you, or is powerless to do so?
Beyond his epiphany, he heard them.
"Embrace Ant Farm, citizens of Marah! Behold our joy's might, enter our spear's delight!"
. . . .
Each chant dissolved into a faint hum on a system.
Dark boots clicked against a sleek marble floor.
A slim, well-kept man walked through automated sliding doors with golden leaves lathered on top of them. Each leaf held either an open eye or a closed one.
He walked through rows of golden doors until he reached it.
A blinding white room with a wall of screens. The screens were thousands of eyes, watching over the world. In the middle, a specialized monitor with a grey border.
In front of it, a high-backed chair stood sharply as a tiger-like, long-haired miracle enjoyed the view.
He didn't turn around. He only uttered, "Enlighten me, Silo. Do bullet ants bite regardless if the magnifying glass burns them or not?"
"They always will, Head-Bearer. The pressure of Solythe from the new ant is beginning to overwhelm the logs. If it were to bite, it would likely draw blood," the man responded.
Slowly, the chair turned and revealed him.
Wearing an all-black outfit that consumed all light around it, only the hands remained exposed. Below its thick mane, a porcelain black mask, molded like the face of a statue.
Then he laughed lightly. "Is it now? And what if it burned just enough for it to finally look up at the culprit?"
He continued, "Only then would it show its fangs?"
"Bullet ants don't have fangs, sir," Silo commented.
He smiled beneath his mask. "This one does."
. . .