"Creation is the essence of evolution, Eygar." The woman's voice came muffled through her mask. "Each new species is a chapter in the infinite story of life's adaptability."
Her fingers traced the surface of a cylinder. A fetal lifeform squirmed in the cylindrical glass container that was filled with greenish mucous-like liquid. The greenish liquid inside rippled at her touch.
"And that is why we must learn to master this art." She stepped back, her white lab coat swishing against the sterile floor. "Eryndor speaks no peace. Only war. Only bloodshed. A circle that never ends."
Lady Lyssara had raven-black hair pulled tight against her scalp. Her golden skin caught the laboratory lights. Her eyes never left the thing in the container.
The cylinder stood as tall as a man. Plastic tubes snaked from its base, running along the floor and up the walls. They stretched the entire length of the hall. Each tube dripped slowly. Unknown liquids mixing with the green mucous inside.
The fetal organism absorbed it in.
Eygar pressed closer to the glass. His breath fogged the surface. "Is it... is it working?"
The organism looked formless at first, but soon, visible outlines of membranes could be seen with the naked eye—well, at least with theirs—forming the lining of various body passages that communicate with the air bubbles in the container.
The membranes that appeared were as thin as gossamer. They lined passages that would someday carry air. The mucosa that forms the respiratory, genitourinary, and alimentary tracts spread like ink in water, followed by the mouth, nasal passages, and urethra.
All the pathways that would make this thing breathe. Live. Exist.
The process moved fast. Too fast for human biology. But the Luminari had never played by human rules.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twelve.
The shape of a female creature with distinct Luminari golden-hue features slowly emerged from the formless mass, like an artist's painting coming to life.
"It—It worked!" Eygar's voice cracked. His scrawny frame shook. "Lady Lyssara, it worked! You've made history!"
His laughter echoed off the laboratory walls. Sharp. Almost manic.
"I can't wait to see those old fogies in the council. Their faces when they—"
"Don't celebrate too early, Eygar." Lyssara's words cut through his joy like a blade through silk. "Look closer..., It's a failed transformation."
His smile died instantly. He turned back to the glass container and leaned in with squinted eyes. Then he saw it.
The creature swelled. Its skin stretched. Red lines appeared on the surface. They were thin at first, then thicker. They spread like cracks in ice. Spiderwebbing across the tiny body.
"No," Eygar whispered. "No, no, no—"
BOOM!
The glass shattered inward. Or it would have. A translucent barrier snapped into place. It caught the blast. Held it. Contained the destruction within a perfect sphere.
Fragments of glass hung suspended. Droplets of green liquid frozen mid-spray. The creature—what was left of it—scattered into pieces too small to identify.
Then gravity returned and everything fell. The barrier faded.
[E-X199 in HGC-7 has been successfully contained]
The AI's monotonous voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
[Permission to notify the Council, Lady Lyssara]
"Permission granted, Ivy."
Lyssara's voice held no tremor. No disappointment at the failed experiment. Just cold acceptance.
"My lady, you—" Eygar started.
She raised one hand, palm out. He went silent.
"This is no cause for concern." She stepped over a puddle of green liquid. "It's only my one hundred and ninety-ninth failure. Far fewer than any of those fogies in the council."
She paused at the door. Turned her head just slightly. Behind her mask, her lips curled.
"And by the way, Eygar." Her voice dropped lower. "I think I've just discovered the perfect catalyst for a successful transformation."
***
The council hall reached toward the sky.
Ancient carvings covered the marble ceiling, which was a contrast to the utopian mega-city outside the large windows. Images of the Paragons. Of worlds before worlds. Of knowledge that predated the Luminari themselves.
Through the massive windows, Aetherion sprawled in the distance. The mega-city gleamed. Towers of crystal and light. Floating platforms. Airships cutting through the clouds like silver fish.
A beautifully advanced spectacle.
Inside the hall, seven figures sat in a heptagon formation. Each on a throne-like chair. Each separated by the seven-sided table between them.
All of them shared the golden skin of their people. But that's where the similarity ended.
[Lady Lyssara's HLE-199 resulted in a fractured state] Ivy announced. [The cause of failure is still unknown]
"Well." Lord Lumir leaned back. His bald head reflected the overhead lights. "That was expected."
He shook his head slowly.
"Eryndor becomes less peaceful every cycle. The Iron Dominion expands. The Eclipse Syndicate spreads like disease." He placed both palms flat on the table. "We should dispose of this false belief in Creation. Focus on what matters. The Nexus Gate. Reversing Eryndra's decay before it's too late."
A few of the seats nodded in support, but the others shook their heads in disapproval.
"Sigh. We understand your point, Lord Lumir." The voice came from Lord Dylan. A gruff elderly man. Small in stature but large in presence. "But the secrets of Nexus Gate are beyond our level of knowledge. It is, but one of the many monumental works left behind by the Paragons of old after all."
He gestured with one weathered hand.
"For hundreds of years, we've tried. Millions of experiments. Countless resources wasted. Still no breakthroughs." His eyes swept the room. "The more time we waste unlocking the Gate, the farther we fall behind in interstellar advancement."
He stood. His chair scraped against the marble floor.
"It's time for change. I propose we send pioneers to new worlds. Search for resources. Establish footholds." He paused, letting the weight settle. "Eryndra cannot be saved. We must prepare for a Dark Age."
"I concur." Lady Lyssane's voice cut in. Her wild black hair framed sharp features. "The Nexus Gate is as dangerous as it might be stabilizing. Perhaps more so."
She folded her hands.
"As the saying goes—focusing on irrelevant facts is like looking through clouded eyes. Knowledge is power only if one knows what facts not to bother with."
"Humph!" Lord Lumir's face darkened. "Icing your cowardly opinions in backwater quotes. That's all you and your family are good at, Lady Lyssane."
The room went silent and heads turned, eyes widened. Expressions shifted into barely concealed anticipation.
The same wide-eyed reaction mirrored everyone sitting around the table. They kept quiet and put on an expression that seemed to suggest—"waiting for a good show".
BOOM!
Lady Lyssane's hands struck the table. Icy-blue light flared around her fingers. The force was powerful but so well controlled that the marble table barely shook, yet the sound echoed across the silent hall.
She leaned forward. Eyes narrowing to slits. Her voice dropped to something deadly.
"I dare you to repeat those words." She paused, lips curling at the edge. "Baldy."
The word "Baldy" seemed to strike a chord as Lord Lumir's face turned volcanic red in an instant. Veins bulged on his scalp. His hands clenched into fists and he exploded, "You—BITCH!!!"
"ENOUGH!"
The shout came from the head of the table. Followed immediately by coughing.
Archon Thalor sat in his wheelchair. Piercing blue eyes swept the room. His beard reached halfway down his chest. His hair had thinned. His brow furrowed with age and wisdom earned through centuries.
"Cough-cough." He cleared his throat. "We're past meaningless squabbles. We should develop Aetherion. Strengthen our territories. Not fight amongst ourselves."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
"We've all laid down our opinions. Now we vote."
His voice carried absolute authority.
"I, Thalor Skyshard, oversee this vote as Archon and Chairperson of this Council." He straightened in his chair. "Those in favor of Lord Lumir, raise your hands."
Everywhere turned silent for a moment.
Then three hands rose. Lord Lumir, a blonde middle-aged woman, and a scar-faced elderly man.
"Those in favor of Lord Dylan, raise your hands."
Lady Lyssane's hand shot up. She turned to Lord Lumir with a provocative smirk.
Lord Dylan raised his hand. Two others followed.
"The decision is made." Archon Thalor's voice resonated through the hall. "Stellar Armada will be sent on a pioneer mission to the outer worlds."
He opened his mouth to continue but stopped.
A figure in camouflage burst through the hall entrance. He dropped to one knee in salute.
"Esteemed Council!" His chest heaved. "Nova Vanguard Team-B's mission to Oblivion's Verge has been compromised. We recommend immediate deployment of a rescue team."
A hush fell over the hall as the weight of the news sank in. The council members glanced at each other, and as if coming to the same realization they muttered with gritted teeth...
"Eclipse Syndicate."
Archon Thalor's eyes hardened. His fingers drummed once against the armrest of his wheelchair. The silence stretched. Taut as a wire.
He shifted his gaze to the speaker with furrowed brow, and a momentary silence hung in the air before he spoke.
"Send out Nova Vanguard Team-D. For rescue and support." His voice filled every corner of the hall. "The Eclipse Syndicate is in for a rude awakening."