IZAAC'S POV: All my life, I wondered what lied beyond the eyes, existent within a differentiated world that the human perception wasn't capable of detecting. It was perhaps a fanatical idea, one only probable in fictional works, but its possibility was something I constantly probed at.
If there was a world like that out there, did it contain a sort of conscience? A sentience that produced a form of life through information? Or maybe the world itself was a form of sentience, hence its inability of being perceived in the first place?
Again, its unrealism was to be easily acknowledged, but that only inflamed my interest in the subject, the true power of the human mind capable of even coming to a transcendent conclusion such as that. It was a testament to our ability to create conceptual constructs within the mind, an ability our best scientists still couldn't objectively identify the origin of.
That is what the complexity of the human mind entailed, and that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg.
This idea, despite its complete faith in humanity's capacity, was currently becoming an overwhelming state of mind in the face of truly otherworldly powers, forces unbound by theorems and laws. Before me was the Sacred Aisle, leading to the Beaumont Altar, awaiting my presence, beckoning me with soothing promises of fulfillment and confidence.
Converging on me with anticipatory gazes were glorified men and women whose investments in the nation have propelled them to royal statuses, giving them powers only surpassed by their own delusions. Their tight suits and strapless dresses ran parallel with the scarlet runner, their presences basking in Father's aura.
He awaited my arrival on the Altar, his looming, mountainous figure a permanent facet despite his modest posture. The suspenseful curl in his lips was foreign to me, a disturbance in a typical wall of stoicism and rigidness. It was one of the few moments in my life where I could recall him making such a face.
My hesitancy disintegrated beneath the expression protruding from behind his blonde mane, and I nervously took my first step, the spotless dress shoes on my feet piercing into the light from above. The majesty of my attire drew the eyes of many, their parted mouths and gleeful stares revealing their loss of habitual thought.
Each step put me closer to upholding multiple generations' worth of tradition, a tradition of supremacy and reign. My heart pounded as I stepped up the Altar, and it stopped when I reached the top.
Father's destructive grin made my knees wobble, yet I stood, my awareness entirely consumed by the pale stone wall behind the giant man, making even him appear negligible. Its ancient appearance stood strong between two curtained walls of contemporary alloy frames that confined gigantic slabs of stainless steel and alluminum accents, which permeated the Bestowment Hall building in a way that made it virtually impenetrable.
A vertical fissure in the center of the stone wall stared back into me, its lightless depths possessing an alien portentousness that felt older than time. My apprehension from the public surveillance meant nothing in the face of this true enigma.
My mind reeled as countless possibilities flooded my thoughts, all absurd if left to the average mind to comprehend. The question to how this empire sustained its unquestionable superiority over the world could be answered by the origin of my wondering mind. As bland as it was, this immortal relic, in a world of machines and neon, was a prime contributor to our power.
And, this was the time for me to inherit a fraction of its devotion.
"Izaac iil Beaumont," Father bellowed, hushing the whispers I tuned out since I entered the expanse, "the time has come for you to claim your birthright as the Fourth Son of Cormac II, Supreme Divine Ruler of the Beaumont Empire. Please step forward."
Standing in Father's mighty shadows, I met his dusky, navy eyes, ignoring the chills traversing my spine.
He rose his hands with a proud chest. "My son, in the name of the Beaumont Empire, I deem you ready to accept the final burden of the Beaumont name. Please accept this with pride, honor, and most of all, care for the future of this grand nation."
"This burden, I do pridefully, honorably, and responsibly, accept." I bowed my head, and Father's grin exploded into a toothy smile.
"Now go forth and fulfill your destiny as a Beaumont! All hail the Beaumont Family!"
In the year of 2132, the Beaumont Empire is the leading superpower of the world, with the Beaumomt Family at the helm of its superiority. But their power goes beyond what the eye first sees: supernatural abilities given from generation to generation of the Beaumonts, ensuring their reign over the globe.
Izaac iil Beaumont is the youngest Beaumont child, sixth to the throne, with abilities not quite as blatant as his relatives', but ambitions beyond what they could possibly imagine. And, when the opportunity presents itself, he witholds no effort to make his stand in history.