Heir to the Ring

Ethan slouched against the cool leather seat, as a cacophony of reporters’ voices crackled from his phone. The screen displayed a news broadcast overlaid with a photograph of a stern-faced man: Thomas Scott, the wealthiest individual on Earth and CEO of Scott Industries. Bold headlines scrolled beneath the image, declaring his unexpected death earlier that morning.

A poised news anchor appeared next. “Thomas Scott’s sudden passing leaves a power vacuum at the world’s largest conglomerate. Known for dominating industries from defense manufacturing to space exploration, Scott Industries has shaped global technology for close to two centuries.”

She paused, letting footage roll. Fighter jets soaring, interspersed with images of sleek electric cars, massive data centers and monstrous rocket engines bearing the Scott logo.

Then a montage of critics played—prominent politicians and activists. One claimed he was “the single greatest threat to humanity,” another called him “an oligarch controlling fascist governments”. They flashed images of global protests, picket signs reading Stop War Profiteering. A senator’s voiceover declared, “Scotts turned human suffering into a revenue stream.”

Ethan’s gaze flicked to the next clip: a photo of himself, hair shaggier and eyes fierce, leading a rally outside a towering Scott Industries skyscraper. He held up a sign: End the War Machine. The anchor’s voice chimed in again, “Even more intriguing is Thomas Scott’s only son and heir, 22-year-old Ethan Scott, widely regarded as an outspoken critic of his father’s empire. Many see him as an altruistic figure, —”

He closed the news app with a decisive tap, silencing the broadcast as the helicopter hummed steadily around him. Outside the window, the sprawling expanse of New York City gave way to the lush, green outskirts where the Scott family estate loomed. For a moment, Ethan stared at the dark screen of his phone, a storm of emotions stirring inside him. 

The pilot glanced at Ethan through the rearview mirror. “We’ll be landing in about 10 minutes, Mr. Scott.”

Ethan nodded. The vast property sprawled beneath them, its manicured lawns and imposing architecture a stark contrast to the chaos of the city he’d just left behind. The rotors began to slow, and the helicopter touched down smoothly on the expansive driveway.

A wave of unease rolled through him. 

******

The grand living room of the Scott mansion buzzed with subdued conversations as Ethan stepped through the ornate double doors. The space, adorned with sleek modern art and opulent furnishings. Four key executives stood near the center. Frank Lunz, the poised CFO in an impeccable suit; Chairman Harold Fox, an old man with silver hair and a commanding presence, his father’s oldest friend and advisor; Linda Chen, the Chief Legal Counsel; Marcus Reed, the charismatic Head of PR.

“Ethan,” Frank began, his voice gentle. “We’re all so sorry for your loss.”

Fox placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Thomas was a visionary. Please accept our deepest condolences.”

Linda nodded in agreement. “If there’s anything you need, we’re here to support you.”

Marcus added, “This must be an incredibly difficult time for you.”

Ethan managed a small smile, a little surprised to see everyone there. “Thank you, all of you. I appreciate your support.”

He took a deep breath, glancing around the room. “I need some time alone.”

As Ethan turned to leave for his room, Marcus exchanged a fleeting look with Linda. “Ethan, if I may… We hate to bring this up now, but we need to discuss the messaging.”

Ethan paused. “Can this wait?”

Linda stepped forward, her tone soft. “Your father’s sudden passing has created some uncertainty. The stock is plummeting since it’s known you have been critical of the company.”

Frank interjected smoothly, “We’ve already spoken with the President and he is ready to suspend trading for the day.”

Marcus continued, “With his passing all his shares and board seats pass down to you. We’d like you to meet with the board and address the press. A statement from you could reassure investors that you won’t make any rash decisions.”

Ethan’s frustration boiled over. “You vultures have no decency! Maybe I should go straight to the press and announce I’m donating all my shares to Greenpeace.”

The room fell silent, tension thick in the air. Chairman Fox said with a steady voice. “The kid has just lost his father. We need to give him some space.”

Ethan turned and began ascending the grand staircase, his eyes lingered on the portraits of his ancestors—Scotts going back five generations, all titans of industry. The weight of their legacy pressed heavily on him. With that, Ethan continued up the stairs as the room below watched him go, concern apparent in their eyes.

****

Ethan lay on his bed, mindlessly staring at the ornate ceiling. He was still trying to process the morning’s events and the flood of memories that accompanied his return to his childhood home. A soft knock broke the silence.

“Come in,” he said.

Chairman Fox entered. “I’m sorry about downstairs,” he began, his voice quiet. “They’re not bad people—just stressed.”

Ethan sat up, legs dangling over the side of the bed. Ethan had known Mr. Fox since he was a kid. “I understand.” Ethan responded.

Fox held out a sealed envelope. “Your father asked me to give this to you personally, if…if anything happened to him. He made me promise it would pass directly from my hands to yours.”

Ethan’s heart thudded. He took the envelope. “Thank you,” he said, voice catching in his throat.

Fox squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it.” He stepped back, quietly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Ethan simply stared at the envelope. Finally, with trembling fingers, he peeled it open.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, and an unmistakable glint of metal. He tilted the envelope, letting a heavy silver ring slide into his palm. It was intricately carved, the edges smooth from generations of wear. Ethan’s eyes flickered to the letter. And he read the note:

Son, if you are reading this, it means I have passed away unexpectedly, and I couldn’t hand over this ring in person. This ring has been passed down for five generations. It marks the transition of a Scott from boy to a man. Put it on, and may it guide you as it has guided all the great men before you.

A single tear traced down Ethan’s cheek. He hadn’t expected a sermon, but part of him longed for more—some final message. Instead, there were just these few lines.

He turned the ring over in his hand. Suddenly, the full reality of his loss washed over him. All his anger and regrets tumbled into a raw ache. His father was gone, and there would be no more chances for reconciliation.

Slowly, Ethan slid the ring onto his finger. It felt oddly comforting, its metal cool against his skin. He lay back against the pillows and covered his eyes with his forearm, silent tears slipping down. And drifted into a fitful nap.

*****

A sudden, intense heat surged through his finger, jerking him awake. Blinking against the haze of half-sleep, he realized his father’s ring was burning with an unnatural flame, its metal glowing a fierce, pulsating white.

A flash of light erupted from the ring, and Ethan could only stare in disbelief as it swallowed the room around him. When the glow subsided, he found himself outside on a wooden bench, the warm scent of fresh grass and blooming flowers drifting through the air. He recognized this place instantly—the Scott estate lawn, bathed in the golden light of a late afternoon sun.

Before him, a younger Thomas Scott carried a four-year-old Ethan on his shoulders, both of them carefree and laughing. The sight tightened Ethan’s chest with a wave of nostalgia and regret. 

As Ethan took in the idyllic scene, he noticed an older version of his father approaching. This Thomas Scott, around fifty five years old, broad-shouldered and fit, white hair and beard, dressed in a casual collared shirt tucked into jeans. 

A thousand questions flooded Ethan’s mind. 

“Dad?” Ethan breathed, pulse thudding in his ears. “Is…is this a dream?”

Thomas settled onto the bench beside him. “It might feel like one, but it’s not. This is a next-generation virtual reality device—tech humanity isn’t ready for yet.”

Ethan’s heart pounded. “VR?” he repeated incredulously, glancing at the vivid colors of the estate. “It feels so real. But if this is VR, you’re not just…a pre-recorded—”

“—message?” Thomas finished for him, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “No, son. You’ve always been quick to notice details. This is a digital reconstruction of me, built from my biological and mental blueprint. Think of it like a living hologram, projected by the ring’s interface.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his eyes drawn again to the ring. “But…how?”

Thomas placed a comforting hand on Ethan’s shoulder, the touch surprisingly real. “That ring  has carried forward an ancient secret through generations of Scotts, one older than our family even.”

Ethan’s breath caught. “What secret?” he asked.

Thomas sighed. “I know you and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. I was too busy to be the father you needed. But it’s time you learned the truth”

Ethan felt a chill ripple through him. The lawn around him began to shimmer and blur. The ring again sent gentle waves of warmth up his arm. The vibrant greens and blues of the estate’s gardens gave way to the muted browns and greys of a grimy factory floor.

He found himself inside a large, dimly lit building. Steam hissed from great metal pipes crisscrossing the walls. The air was thick with the pungent odors of oil and soot, and shafts of pale daylight streamed through high windows. Metallic clanking and the hum of machinery filled the space, their gears turning as they spun cotton into cloth. Through the haze, Ethan could see workers stooped over machines, their faces smudged with coal dust and fatigue.

“This,” came the voice of Thomas Scott, “is Manchester, England. The year is 1825. My great-great-great grandfather Alexander Scott ran this textile mill—one of the most successful in the region.”

They moved closer to a small, glass-walled office that overlooked the rows of steam-powered looms. Within, a young man—Alexander Scott—pored over ledgers, tapping a quill against his chin in thought. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with a stout build and sharp, intense eyes. His hair was cropped short in the style of the day, and he wore a high-collared waistcoat. 

“There’s Alexander,” Thomas said. 

A faint knock at the door drew Alexander’s attention. A mail clerk entered the office, handing over a small parcel. Slicing it open, Alexander withdrew a simple wooden box. Inside it lay a ring— identical to Ethan’s, gleaming in the oil-lamp light.

Alexander’s brows drew together in confusion. He lifted a folded note from beneath the ring and began to read. Though Ethan couldn’t make out the words, he saw the flicker of shock cross Alexander’s features. Carefully, Alexander slipped the ring onto his finger. An immediate burst of faint light illuminated the office as the office itself vanished.

Ethan’s stomach lurched as though he were plummeting from a great height. When the world came back into focus, he found himself standing in what appeared to be the vacuum of outer space—except he could breathe normally, as though in a protective bubble. Earth shone below him, the blue-green sphere rotating against a star-splattered backdrop. He instinctively reached out, a surge of awe and vertigo mixing in his chest.

“The ring connected Alexander to the Space Guild for the first time,” Thomas’s voice explained. “Helping him see Earth from a vantage point no human in the 1820s could have imagined.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. And then, without warning, they began traveling—stars streaked by in a blur. Ethan felt no wind, no shift, just a rapid change of the visual landscape. Far from Earth, they arrived at a large, luminous planet crowned by swirling turquoise clouds. Its skies were dotted with silver spires and floating structures.

A moment later, Ethan and Thomas stood inside an enormous, domed chamber. The architecture was futuristic, yet oddly elegant—glass-like walls curved overhead, letting in the planet’s golden sunlight. At one end of the room, five tall thrones were arranged on a raised platform. Each seat was occupied by a figure that was…not human.

Standing before this panel of five was Alexander Scott, still dressed in his 19th-century attire. He looked dazed, overwhelmed. 

Thomas murmured, “This was the first formal contact. For reasons unknown to us the Guild decided to choose our family. The Guild is the largest multi-species organization in the known universe, uniting many intelligent races.”

Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but the scene shifted again. They returned to Alexander’s factory office, where subtle transformations took place: new, steam-powered looms operating at unprecedented efficiency, advanced designs well ahead of what any competitor had at the time. The business boomed, catapulting the Scott name to prominence. Then the view fast-forwarded to a grand opening ceremony in 1865: Edward Scott, Alexander’s son, inaugurating a steel mill. Towering furnaces glowed in the background.

The scenes continued to flow: 1910, with William Scott in America, leading a factory churning out car engines and rudimentary airplane engines for military use in the looming First World War. Then 1950, showing Charles Scott presiding over the production of advanced aircraft engines and increasingly sophisticated weaponry. 

Finally, the montage settled around 2022, returning to the modern day. They saw Thomas Scott, walking through vast data centers humming with supercomputers, then standing beside rocket prototypes lined up in a massive hangar. Rows of electric cars rolled off automated assembly lines.

Through it all, Thomas’s voice guided Ethan:

“The Guild nudged each generation of Scotts, offering insights ahead of our time. They guided our adoption of advanced technologies, from steam engines and steelmaking to rocket propulsion and AI. We weren’t the only innovators in history, but our family was always a step ahead.”

Ethan, reeling from the breadth of what he’d seen, tried to focus. “Why would they do that? Why help us so much?”

Thomas turned to him. “One of the Guild’s missions is to bring new civilizations into their fold. They call it the Great Unification. ‘Intelligent life,’ is rare and precious. They want to see it flourish. But there’s a catch.” 

“The Guild only deals with a civilization that has a single recognized authority. No endless fracturing into warring factions. They find it too dangerous.”

Ethan exhaled, “So, they wanted our family to…what? Take over the world?”

“In a way… yes” Thomas said. “Enough that, when the time comes, Earth might present a unified front under a leader they are comfortable with. That way, the Guild can integrate humanity peacefully—share knowledge, resources, and the biggest gift of all - ability to bend spacetime.” 

“That’s insane,” Ethan muttered angrily. “Nobody has a voice in this. We have no right to decide what’s best for billions of people.”

“If humans remain fractured when the Guild arrives, the risk of an interplanetary conflict is too great. The Guild has only one response to such potential threats.” Thomas replied.

A new scene loomed: a luminous beam lancing through Earth’s atmosphere, impacting the planet with catastrophic effect. The surface rippled and broke apart in an instant. Ethan drew a sharp breath, watching in horror as shockwaves rippled across continents, the planet consumed in a bright burst of annihilation.

Ethan turned away from the vision in horror. “What if we refuse integration?”

Thomas’s voice was somber. “Because in some time, with the advent of AI our technologies would be advanced enough to pose a threat far beyond Earth. The Guild will have no choice but to put us down.”

Thomas gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I tried to steer the world toward a future where we’d be interconnected through technology, economics, and infrastructure. But as you know, the path has been messy.” He sighed. “And I regret many decisions.”

Thomas continued. “Every generation of Scott did what they had to. Now, it’s your turn, son. You must decide if you’ll carry on. But if we do nothing, the Guild will see humanity as too chaotic, too dangerous…” 

Ethan asked “When does the Guild arrive?”

Thomas replies in a somber way “They arrive in 50 years… you will be the one who will be negotiating with them.”

Ethan swallowed hard. “But… what if—”

Thomas replies, “I know it’s a lot to take in son. But you were always so smart, so brave and yet so kind. You don’t see it yet but you were born for this.”

“I have a strategy laid out for Scott Industries. We’ll discuss it very soon. But first, you need to get back, Jessica is about to knock on the door.”

Before Ethan could utter another word, the simulation dissolved into streaks of white. He found himself back in his darkened room, the ring cool on his finger. Ethan looked down at the ring as his mind raced. 

A soft knock at the door broke the silence. “Mr. Scott?”. It was his father’s secretary, Jessica. “Are you awake? We need you to discuss the plans for… for the funeral.”

“I’ll be down soon.” he said quietly, clearing his throat. 

She hesitated. “Is everything all right?”

No, he thought, it isn’t. Nothing could be the same after the choice he had just made in that moment. But he squared his jaw. “I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s… let’s gather the team. I have a statement to prepare for the press, and a meeting to schedule with the board.”

Surprise flickered across Jessica’s face. She nodded, though. “Of course, Mr. Scott. I’ll gather them in your father’s office.”