Chapter 1. Welcome to Tribus

The rhythmic journey of the train to the southern realm of the land had stretched on for nearly a day and a half by then. Days of preparation had led to this point—a journey that would span several days itself: our migration to the fabled city of Tribus.

Guided by the hands of my parents and my brother Avi, we had painstakingly readied ourselves for what lay ahead—a relocation into the heart of Tribus, a place revered and sought after.

Our passage through the bureaucratic labyrinth had been lengthy, but the blessing of three powerful clans finally shone upon us. Leviste, Aragon, and Santi—the trio that held dominion—had sanctioned our ascent to the grandeur of Tribus.

In this neighborhood, only the chosen few can claim residence. It's an honor of the highest order to hail from a city overseen by three influential families, their joint rule encompassing business, education, technology, military prowess, and nature's abundance.

But entry is no trivial feat. Aspiring citizens must endure the annual gauntlet, their lives scrutinized by Tribus' overseers. Each household's key decision makers face a barrage of inquiries and evaluations to determine their worthiness.

The victors secure employment, land, and shelter for the ensuing year as rewards.

How my father managed to sway Leviste, Aragon, and Santi into allocating us land in the coveted realm of Tribus bewildered me. Citizenship was typically reserved for established elites, business magnates, and luminaries. While my mother held a year of tertiary education, my father's formal learning ended prematurely, relegating him to the life of a humble fisherman.

Yet, my father claimed only minor inquiries had targeted our family, sentiments echoed by my mother. Questions delved into our lifestyle and the talents of Avi and me. An unexpected twist reset the cycle—our family given another chance, as a supervisor fixated on a picture in our dossier.

Doubts crept into my father's mind, suspicion birthing uncertainty. He believed that the supervisors—Leviste, Aragon, and Santi—had taken a sudden interest upon seeing my image. Fearing for my well-being, he withdrew from further evaluation.

Then came the day, an unanticipated turn. The man in his coat, a figure of intrigue, appeared unexpectedly, presenting us with gilded tokens adorned with arcane sigils. Even as my parents withdrew from the final phase, the cycle completed. Our family, against all odds, was granted citizenship—a stroke of generosity we held with gratitude.

While my father considered declining, my mother insisted, deeming the opportunity too extraordinary to ignore. Rejecting their benevolence, she warned, would invite hardship into our lives.

***

The train pulled to a halt, its modern station nestled within verdant woods. We stood at the heart of the Tribe, a nucleus of commerce, learning, and enigma.

"Stella, we're here," my father signaled, and we disembarked. He bore the heaviest luggage, a testament to his strength.

A clearing of my throat was a prelude to stepping into the Tribe's domain. Amidst the earthy aroma of woods, rain-washed leaves exuded a fragrance, a fresh exhalation from nature. Senses were heightened. My first encounter with the city unfurled—a tapestry woven with threads of mystique.

"Mr. and Mrs. Suarez?" A trench-coated man, resonant in voice, addressed us from a distance, his golden eyes arresting attention. Handsome, his gaze evoked wonder, framed by lush lashes and brows. Eyes—brilliant and striking—captivated.

"Sir Mikael?" My father's tentative query was met with respect, a hat doffed to the well-attired gentleman.

"Yes, it's me, Mister Suarez. Dispatched by Mr. Strenon Santi to greet you and acquaint you with the city."

"Thank you, sir Mikael. Nice to finally put a face to the name," my mother's voice carried a touch of bitterness, mending a green cloak she'd laundered just a week ago.

A chuckle escaped him, a smile curving his lips. His attention, a radiant beacon, settled on Avi and me. His face transformed, a cherub's visage, eyes vanishing amidst mirth and warmth. He credited us unbidden, a benediction from a stranger.

"Stella, perhaps? And the young one—Avi?" His words held mirth, a melody tuning to our identities.

"Yes," I affirmed softly.

His ears tinged crimson, his gaze skittering from me to my brother. Unable to hold my gaze, he focused on Avi.

"Here's the car layout. First, your home, then a tour of Tribus." His affable disposition remained. He took a step forward.

A tailcoat danced in the breeze, catching my eye. A god among mortals, he seemed—a modern-day enigma. Sir Mikael appeared otherworldly in his allure, embodying a wandering deity.

As we approached him, he welcomed us into his magnificent abode, unceremonious as if ushering us into our own dwelling. A two-story house, a fusion of wood and concrete, stood before us. Three bedrooms, a terrace—an abode graced with rustic elegance.

Spotless, the front yard blossomed, flower pots and embellishments casting a tranquil spell. Abundant rooms held countless comforts, from entertainment systems to literature. Kitchen and dining melded, pathways to a hallway—closets, a staircase, a rooftop ascent. A table nestled by windows framed the backyard. Arched portals unveiled the kitchen's inner sanctum—appliances, cabinets, counters. Bedrooms cocooned with windows, seats, niches, space for gadgets.

Avi raced to her room as my parents perused the kitchen. The living room, vacated, was now Sir Mikael's and mine, silence a chaperone. He wiped his brow with a towel, hues of vermilion giving away his exertion despite the attempt to hide it.

"Quite warm today," he chuckled, his azure eyes reverting to brown.

"Yes, Sir Mikael," I concurred. Yet, within, I spun webs of supposition to discern the cause of his flushed perspiration, his rapid blush.

A hand plunged beneath his trench coat, gripping an object. Facing me, he avoided direct contact, his gaze evading mine.

"Here's an invitation from Mr. Strenon Santi. All newcomers to the Tribe's fold are summoned."

Golden eyes beheld me, an emblem marked in the shape of a leaf cradling the triquetra—the symbol of the Trinity. The knot woven by intersecting circles, an emblem of unity.

"Your family is expected."

Gaze locked on the Trinity's emblem, unease crept over me, vague yet potent. I hesitated, but my mother's counsel rang true, and I accepted, my smile genuine.

"Thank you, Sir Mikael."

"It's nothing, Stella," he turned, addressing a satchel on the table before the sofa. "I must—must be off. Family to fetch."

"Too s—"

"Yes. The opening months keep me busy. Please inform your parents. Ahead of schedule. Till we meet!"

"Of course, sir."

No reply lingered, his steps hastening from the house. Peculiar, I thought, as Avi attested to his deviation from the norm, as a figure he shared their roof with.

Decision made, my first true act in Tribus was embraced—an invite, sigils, emblem, Trinity's woven seal—all converging. And the city—mystique personified.

If only my father hadn't questioned the process that delivered us to the city's embrace, they might have marveled at the beauty of acceptance. Yet, Tribus' gift remained—a testament to a benevolent reality that we had joined.

The limousine whisked us through Tribus' grandeur, its legroom a luxury. Music played, Avi reveled in the feast prepared, joy dancing on her lips.

Further surprises awaited, as we passed a gated community. Sir Mikael then ushered us into his splendid abode, offering a hospitality as genuine as it was unforeseen—a house of two stories, crafted from solid wood and concrete. A home endowed with three bedrooms, a terrace, every amenity considered.

Immaculate, the front yard adorned with flora, decorative elements exuding charm. Rooms embraced us, books and entertainment—every comfort made ours. A kitchen melded with a dining space, leading to hallways hosting closets, rooftop access, a staircase from the main entrance. Windows framed by seats graced two bedrooms, storage for devices and conveniences. Bathrooms, a haven of fixtures—bathtub, shower cubicle, basin, cabinet, all dappled with natural light.

As Avi vanished to her room, parents retreated to the kitchen, the living room held Sir Mikael and me—a tableau of unspoken curiosity. He wiped his face, a blush gracing his cheeks, a futile attempt to conceal his effort.

"Unusually warm," he managed amidst a grin, eyes shifting from blue to brown.

"Indeed, Sir Mikael," I replied, pondering the cause, even as he avoided my gaze.

Beneath his coat, his hand retrieved something. Eyes averted, he looked back at me, a card bearing the trinity knot, an emblem with a leaf-like twist—a portal to a mystic realm.

"Invitation from Mr. Strenon Santi. Welcoming all new arrivals to the Tribe."

A gaze transfixed on the emblem, a premonition stirred, murky yet compelling. Uncertain, I hesitated, but my mother's advice guided my acceptance—a genuine smile curving my lips.

"Thank you, Sir Mikael."

"Nothing, Stella." He turned to his bag on the table by the sofa. "I should—go. Family awaits."

"Too s—"

"Yes, indeed. The beginning months are hectic. Please relay my regards. Till we meet again!"

"Certainly, sir."

No farewell lingered, his hurried steps carried him out. Puzzled, I watched, even as Avi attested to his changed demeanor, his departure from their shared past.

Resolution crystallized—my first step into Tribus embraced, an invitation, sigils, emblem—the Trinity's interwoven knot—uniting destiny. And the city—mystery and enchantment woven into the very fabric of existence.