The helicopter descended over the terrain like a metallic bird gliding through a golden sky. Pablo, seated next to the President of the Central Bank of Dinaria and a few of Laboris' chief builders, watched the landscape unfold below. The vegetation seemed eager to hide secrets that had lasted for centuries. Nervousness was evident in every gesture of his companions, and Pablo, hands folded over his knees, finally spoke:
—Where is this supposed palace?
The President of Dinaria frowned, unfolding an ancient map on his lap.
—According to our records and the maps of the ancients, the palace should be right here —he said, pointing to a precise spot on the yellowed paper.
Pablo disembarked from the helicopter and began walking through the foliage. The underbrush crunched under his feet until a metallic sound stopped him. He leaned down and pushed aside some branches; beneath them was a black iron door with golden details, perfectly preserved, as if it had been waiting for him for centuries.
—I'll need some help here —said Pablo, and within minutes, everyone began clearing the vegetation. They pushed the door until it opened with a deep creak.
Before them stretched a vast garden where millions of trees seemed to have been carefully cultivated by human hands. Bushes bloomed with every color imaginable, and small outbuildings, like tiny mansions, were scattered across the grounds. Empty fountains decorated the space, reminders of past grandeur.
—It will take us hours to get all the way there —one of the Laboris workers commented, pointing toward the majestic palace at the center.
—There has to be a faster way —said another, inspecting the terrain with concern.
—You are right, there must be… —began the President of Dinaria, but his words were cut short as he leaned on what he thought was a rock. He slipped, falling face-first, rubbing his head and muttering:
—Damn smooth rock.
Pablo stepped closer, pushed aside the vegetation, and said with a small smile:
—It's not a rock.
Beneath the surface, a small, perfectly preserved train revealed itself.
—I think I know how we'll get there —Pablo said. Everyone began clearing the foliage around the tracks and the train until they could board. Pablo examined the control panel and found a spot to place his hand. The moment he did, the panel lit up green, and a robotic voice spoke:
—Welcome, Your Majesty. Enjoy the ride.
The train shot forward along the path. The workers held on tightly as the force pushed them back. From above, the garden layout revealed itself in all its precision: paths forming a perfect star, each with its own small, functional train leading to the central palace.
When the train braked sharply, everyone fell to the ground, sore but amazed. Pablo rose slowly and stepped out, facing the palace: white, immense, and majestic, with towers that seemed to touch the sky and stained glass windows letting sunlight create brilliant rainbows across the garden.
The group walked toward the main door, and Pablo pushed it carefully. Immediately, hundreds of pigeons took flight from the interior, filling the air with a soft, majestic murmur. Inside, the palace was covered with dry leaves, but the white marble floors and gold-accented pillars remained intact. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass, reflecting vibrant patterns across the interior.
—Impressive —whispered one of the workers.
They explored every corner of the palace. Chandeliers of solid gold hung from the high ceilings; the dining hall could easily accommodate seventy people; the ballroom was so vast that each step echoed through the halls. The walls were adorned with paintings of angels and mythical scenes. Rooms for both servants and the royal family were carefully arranged, while the royal office, simple but functional, offered everything needed for governance.
After the tour, Pablo gathered the group:
—We need to start cleaning and restoring. Bring the best gardeners and workers. This place will shine again.
In the following days, activity swirled around the palace. Gardeners pruned and planted flowers, workers restored walls and ceilings, and the palace gradually came back to life. By nightfall, lights turned on one by one, illuminating the Palace of the Suns like a city of wonders suspended in time.
That evening, Pablo hosted the People's Celebration. Citizens from all regions of Norgalia gathered to celebrate the restoration. Music, laughter, and conversation filled the gardens as the palace reflected in the newly filled fountains. Among the guests were those who had helped restore the palace, neighbors, friends, and officials, all united in celebrating Norgalia's rebirth.
At the end of the night, as if the world itself were stepping back to admire the scene, the planet below was dotted with millions of lights: some regions shining brightly, others with a softer glow, forming a mosaic that reflected the kingdom's renewal. Norgalia had returned to shine, and with it, the hope for a restored future.