Hi steemians my name is @maxub this is my entry on the week 5 contest. Quickly inviting @entity01 @merrcybliss @bossj23

MY TITLE: THE MAN FROM NARVION

It was a quiet morning at Murtala Muhammed International Airport in Lagos Nigeria when Immigration Officer Amaka spotted the unusual passport.

The traveler tall, well-dressed, and composed stood calmly before her desk, offering his documents with a polite nod. Everything appeared normal until her eyes landed on the word:

“Country of Origin: Narvion.”

Amaka blinked. She’d never heard of such a nation. A seasoned officer with 15 years of experience, Amaka prided herself on knowing every country recognized by the United Nations. This one? It didn’t exist.

She flipped through the passport again. Clean. Professionally printed. Several visa stamps from real countries Germany, Brazil, South Africa, India.

All perfectly aligned.

She checked the security watermark under her scanner authentic. But Narvion? No global database confirmed its existence.

“Sir,” she asked gently, “can you tell me where Narvion is located?”

The man smiled. “It’s an island nation in the Southern Ocean. Isolated. Hidden in mists most of the year. We don’t deal with the outside world often. I’m here to observe how your world handles change.”

Her pulse quickened. He didn’t seem dangerous just different. Curious. His name was Elan Miro, and his demeanor was calm, almost too calm. The senior officials were called in. They found nothing wrong, yet everything felt off.

“Why are you here?” they asked.

Elan Miro answered, “Narvion is... transitioning. Our borders have weakened, and soon we may merge with your world.

I’ve come to understand what that means. How your systems work. How humans adapt. We’ve watched you from afar.”

“You mean like aliens?” someone laughed nervously.

“No,” Elan Miro replied. “Just... out of phase.”

Later that day, news spread that the Narvion passport vanished from the immigration database, leaving no trace. When officers returned to question him further he was gone.

Disappeared.

No CCTV footage. No exit logs. His boarding pass dissolved in Amaka’s drawer, leaving behind a faint scent of sea salt.

For days, Amaka couldn’t sleep. But deep down, she felt he wasn’t a threat just a messenger. A sign. That maybe, just maybe, other worlds weren’t up in the stars.

They were already among us.

Amaka sat alone in the dim glow of her living room lamp, her hands trembling as she clutched a photocopy of the Narvion passport the only proof she had that the encounter ever occurred.

But even that was beginning to fade, like ink dissolving into mist. What kind of technology could erase presence so perfectly? Or was it something beyond technology?

She wasn't the only one affected. Officer Jide, her skeptical colleague, who had seen the passport with his own eyes, had gone silent after the incident. He requested leave the next day and hadn't returned since.

Word had it that he'd been having strange dreams of oceans stretching endlessly, of glowing archways beneath the sea, and voices calling his name in languages he didn’t understand.

Then, on the third night, Amaka received a package.

No return address. No markings.

Inside: a smooth, oval stone the color of moonlight, warm to the touch, and a handwritten note:

“You asked where Narvion is. Soon, it will no longer matter where.
You’ll see us in reflections. In dreams.
Prepare for the Unfolding.”

Below the message was a symbol a spiral drawn in blue ink, the same shade as the Narvion immigration stamp. When she blinked, the spiral pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.

That night, Amaka dreamed of standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into a swirling ocean. Shapes moved beneath the waves tall, luminous beings cloaked in seafoam and starlight. One of them looked like Elan Miro. He raised his hand, not to beckon her, but to warn.

She woke to find the stone glowing softly on her nightstand.

Across the city, strange occurrences began. A street vendor disappeared mid-conversation. Radios picked up faint, unintelligible whispers. Children spoke of invisible islands and drew spirals in their notebooks.

The world was changing.

And Amaka, once a gatekeeper of borders, now stood at the threshold of something far greater.

Narvion wasn’t gone.

Narvion was arriving.