Horizontal lines are used to represent any significant change within the passage of time.
Recommended to read in 1/2 story width.
PROLOGUE
Chapter One
| EUROPE, NORTHERN FROST REGION |
The weak glimmers of light shone through the cracks of a rusted window cill.
A thin layer of frost reflected the warm reds and oranges.
Occasionally, a cold wind blew inwards through the fractures. Stray cloth clung tight to the overgrown vegetation and exposed metal.
Things had stayed like this for a while.
A long while.
During this time, the universe shifted - as it always does.
Heroes had risen and fallen. Gods had been slain. New planets had been conquered or destroyed. New races discovered. New allies gained. Empires had risen and fallen; forced out of their home and into a new one, begging on their knees with masks of confidence and leadership. It's at this point that we find everyone and everything in the same place, humanity and others alike. The system of Sol. Surrounded by a ring of spears, and yet still struggling with the internal conflict of those whose backs they are forced against. The end of everything is near. Near enough to feel, but too far to see. Most are blinded by fear of new paracausal powers being introduced as pieces on the table, and some wish to stop playing entirely. Deceit and lies plague humanity, and control belongs only to the spectators who watch silently from the outer edges of the Jovian orbits, throwing meat into the gladiatorial arena they surround. The scale for the narrative of sol is colossal. However, our narrative starts small. With an autumn wind blowing through the cracks of that window cill.
This is when it arrived.
Into view of the window ascended a small grey machine, symmetrical and jagged in its structure. It quietly rotates and spins; the mechanisms humming to keep its body floating in place. A red glowing eye scans through the opening as it begins to hover inside.
The robot passes through a large room, moving silently under the breath of the wind. Generations of dead leaves gathered across the floorboards; which had been covered by snow and ice. In the corner of the room - one of the few places the light touched - grass and flowers grew through the frost and livened up the room with their colours.
The machine hasn't been here before. And it wasn't looking for life.
Beyond the quiet brushing of leaves was a hidden graveyard. Littered around the floor laid the remains of human skeletons, some broken, others scattered or covered in dirt and frost. This machine found these remains particularly interesting, taking the time to scan each individual skeleton before moving to the next one.
The shattered remnant of a grand staircase led up into more rooms, and so it flew up to inspect them. Here, a rusted metal door frame was loosely being held up; its hinges shattered and blown off and the damages long overgrown and faded.
Darkness obscured the details within and so the glow of the machine's light expanded, illuminating the room entirely. This revealed a mess of broken cupboards, draws and tables. In the corner of the room were two skeletons embracing a large black cloth or blanket. The machine scanned these remains and immediately widened its eye, spinning its mechanical parts and rapidly darting around the room in search of something else… or something more. And so it scanned beneath the rubble, and under the tables, and inside the cupboards. But still it was left confused. Until it decided to turn back toward the two skeletons. This time, it scanned into the cloth that they laid atop of.
"There you are." It whispered.
The Story Continues... 09/09/22