Neo-Riga woke before the sun.
By the time the first pale light appeared beyond the horizon, trains were already gliding between the towers, factories were drawing dark lines across the morning sky, and enormous black banners bearing the golden crest of the Northern Empire hung above the central boulevards.
From a distance, the city looked peaceful.
It wasn't.
Raphael Kastanov sat alone at the far end of a train carriage, his head resting against the cold window.
His reflection stared back at him.
Sixteen years old.
Shoulder-length dark hair, slightly untidy despite the regulations. Pale skin. Tired green eyes that made him look as though he had slept considerably less than he actually had.
His black academy uniform was otherwise immaculate.
The red scarf around his neck violated at least two regulations.
Raphael knew that.
He simply didn't care.
The train passed into the center of Neo-Riga.
For several seconds, the Imperial Palace appeared between the towers.
It rose above the old city like something from another age that had stubbornly refused to die. Ancient stone towers stood beside glass structures, communication arrays and modern defensive systems. At its center rose a massive dome.
Above it flew the black-and-gold flag of the Northern Empire.
Raphael looked away.
He had seen it enough times.
His phone vibrated.
Karina:You went alone again?
Raphael typed a reply.
Raphael:No. There are forty-three other people in this carriage.
The response arrived almost immediately.
Karina:You know exactly what I meant.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
Raphael:Unfortunately.
He turned off the screen.
A younger cadet sitting across the carriage was staring at him.
The moment their eyes met, the boy looked away.
Raphael sighed.
Even without guards, people recognized him.
The faces of the Kastanov family appeared on coins, government buildings, news broadcasts and history books.
His father's portrait hung in almost every state institution.
Emperor Artyom Kastanov.
The man who had ruled the Northern Empire for more than twenty years.
And Raphael was his only son.
But he was not the heir.
That title belonged to his twin sister.
Karina Kastanova.
Raphael had never protested the decision.
In fact, he considered it one of the more intelligent decisions his father had ever made.
Imperial Military Academy
The Imperial Military Academy stood in the northern district of Neo-Riga.
Its main building had been constructed almost two centuries earlier, although little remained behind its stone exterior that could still be considered old.
Beneath the academy were laboratories, tactical simulation chambers, command centers, secure archives and several underground sections whose existence was officially denied.
Raphael walked through the main gate.
The conversations around the courtyard became noticeably quieter.
He continued walking.
Several cadets saluted.
Raphael ignored them.
"Good morning, Your Highness!"
He stopped.
A boy with short dark hair stood near the entrance wearing an expression far too pleased with itself.
Deniss Voronov.
Raphael stared at him.
"If you call me that one more time, I'll have you transferred to the artillery division."
Deniss grinned.
"Threatening me with imperial authority?"
"Personal initiative."
"Then I suppose that's acceptable."
They entered the building together.
"You hear the rumors?" Deniss asked.
"I actively try not to."
"You'll like these."
"Then I definitely won't."
Deniss ignored him.
"All civilian flights over the Sixth Military District were cancelled last night."
Raphael glanced at him.
"Where did you hear that?"
"Maksim."
"So your source is the same man who claimed last month that the academy was hiding a secret clone of the Emperor in the basement."
"He had evidence."
"He had a photograph of a mannequin."
"A suspicious mannequin."
Raphael kept walking.
But he remembered what Deniss had said.
The Sixth Military District bordered the eastern frontier of the Empire.
Civilian airspace wasn't closed there without a reason.
Their first lesson was strategy.
A three-dimensional battlefield appeared above the central table.
Two armies.
A mountain pass.
A river.
One bridge.
Colonel Vitols stood at the front of the lecture hall.
"The situation is simple. Blue forces have numerical superiority. Red forces control the mountain pass. Your objective is to capture their command position within forty-eight hours."
The cadets began taking notes.
Raphael didn't.
He studied the map instead.
"Kaštanov."
Raphael raised his eyes.
"Yes?"
"You aren't writing."
"There's nothing to write."
The room fell quiet.
Vitols folded his arms.
"Then perhaps you'd like to enlighten the rest of us."
Raphael stood.
He rotated the holographic map.
"The objective cannot be completed without unacceptable losses."
A few students laughed.
Vitols didn't.
"Why?"
Raphael pointed toward the mountains.
"Here."
Then toward the river.
"And here."
He enlarged the map.
"Blue has twice as many soldiers, but only one viable supply route. If we attack the pass directly, Red withdraws to the secondary defensive line."
Another gesture.
New markers appeared.
"We then have to supply nearly twenty thousand soldiers through one road while Red retains control of the surrounding high ground."
"So?"
"I wouldn't attack."
Whispers spread across the room.
"The objective," Vitols reminded him, "is to capture the command position."
"Then the objective is badly designed."
Nobody laughed this time.
Vitols stared at him.
"In war, you won't always have the luxury of choosing your orders."
Raphael met his eyes.
"Then in war, someone will eventually have to explain why thousands of soldiers died so someone could move a flag across a map."
Silence.
Deniss slowly closed his eyes.
"You're going to get both of us executed someday," he whispered.
Raphael sat down.
"You first."
Karina was waiting for him after class.
They were twins, though people rarely guessed it immediately.
Karina had long chestnut-brown hair and far more life in her expression than her brother. Her uniform, unlike Raphael's, looked as though it had been taken directly from a ceremonial display.
"I heard you argued with Vitols again."
"Information travels disturbingly fast in this building."
"Raphael."
"His assignment was stupid."
Karina walked beside him.
"One day you'll have to learn not to say every thought out loud."
"Then what's the point of having thoughts?"
"To avoid diplomatic incidents."
"That's why you're going to be Empress."
Karina stopped.
Raphael turned around.
For a moment, the familiar confidence disappeared from her face.
"Don't be so sure."
"About what?"
"That I want it."
Raphael said nothing.
Several cadets passed them.
Only after they were gone did Karina continue.
"Father called an emergency meeting of the Imperial Security Council last night."
Raphael's expression changed.
"What time?"
"Three in the morning."
That got his attention.
"What happened?"
"I don't know."
"You're the heir."
"And apparently not an important enough heir."
Raphael frowned.
Karina did not have unrestricted access to Security Council meetings, but she was usually allowed to attend discussions involving matters that could affect the entire Empire.
"Military operation?" Raphael asked.
"I don't think so."
"Why?"
Karina hesitated.
"Because I saw who arrived."
"Generals?"
"Some."
She looked directly at him.
"The Director of the Imperial Scientific Directorate was there."
Raphael raised an eyebrow.
"And that required waking half the government at three in the morning?"
"Not just him. The director of the Institute of Bioengineering was there. Military Medical Command. Intelligence officers. And several people wearing insignia I've never seen before."
Raphael was silent for a moment.
"Sounds like an exciting medical conference."
Karina didn't smile.
"Raphael, they had a file with your name on it."
He stopped walking.
"What?"
"I only saw it for a few seconds."
"Maybe you misread it."
"It said RAPHAEL RALFS KASTANOV."
Now he was silent.
Karina lowered her voice.
"There was a project designation underneath."
"What designation?"
"PROJECT PROMETHEUS."
Raphael stared at her.
"Never heard of it."
"Neither have I."
"Apparently we're remarkably well informed about our own government."
"I tried searching for it afterward."
"And?"
"It doesn't exist."
Raphael's faint amusement disappeared.
Even classified military programs had identification numbers.
If Prometheus didn't appear in databases accessible to the heir to the throne, its security classification was far beyond ordinary military research.
"Did you ask Father?"
"He wouldn't answer."
"Typical."
Raphael started walking again.
"You seriously aren't worried?" Karina asked.
"Currently, I don't even know what I'm supposed to be worried about."
Karina followed him.
"That's exactly what worries me."
Raphael didn't answer.
Through the corridor windows, he noticed three black military vehicles entering the academy courtyard.
Karina followed his gaze.
Soldiers stepped out of the first vehicle.
Two officers emerged from the second.
The doors of the third opened last.
A young woman stepped onto the pavement.
Long black hair.
Dark military uniform.
A silver insignia on her collar that Raphael didn't recognize.
She looked only a few years older than the academy students, yet the soldiers around her treated her like a senior commander.
Karina spoke quietly.
"That's her."
"Who?"
"Kiryuu Aoi."
Raphael looked again.
He knew the name.
Almost everyone did.
The Ice Queen.
A decorated Japanese officer.
Twenty-one years old.
And officially, she had absolutely no reason to be at the Imperial Military Academy in Neo-Riga.
Aoi suddenly looked upward.
Her eyes met Raphael's through the third-floor window.
She didn't bow.
She didn't salute.
She showed no sign that she cared who he was.
After a second, she simply looked away and continued walking.
Raphael's mouth curved into the faintest smile.
"Interesting."
Karina looked at him.
"No."
"What?"
"I know that expression."
"I don't have an expression."
"That's precisely the problem."
Three Hours Earlier
Deep beneath the Imperial Palace, the lights were still burning.
There were no windows in the chamber.
Eleven people sat around a long black table.
Generals.
Scientists.
Intelligence officials.
Senior members of the Imperial Security Council.
At the head of the table sat Emperor Artyom Kastanov.
Nobody spoke.
A holographic display appeared above the table.
NORTHERN EMPIRE
OMEGA-LEVEL CLASSIFIED PROGRAM
Then another line appeared.
PROJECT PROMETHEUS
Raphael's photograph materialized beneath it.
SUBJECT 01
RAPHAEL RALFS KASTANOV
AGE: 16
Professor Helena Velde, director of the Imperial Institute of Bioengineering, opened an encrypted document.
"The preliminary phase is complete."
Artyom looked at her.
"Results?"
"Insufficient."
"Explain."
Velde activated a holographic model of the human body.
"The original compound successfully accelerated cellular repair. The problem is energy demand. Human metabolism cannot sustain regeneration at the rate we require."
One of the generals leaned forward.
"Then the project failed."
"No."
Velde changed the simulation.
"We changed the approach."
The holographic body transformed.
Muscle tissue.
Nervous system.
Blood vessels.
A complex network of highlighted structures spread across the projection.
"Instead of forcing the body to repair damage using its existing biological systems, Prometheus will attempt to alter the regenerative mechanism itself."
Artyom remained expressionless.
"What does that mean in practical terms?"
"If successful, Subject 01 will regenerate damaged tissue many times faster than an ordinary human."
Velde activated another simulation.
A wound appeared on the holographic arm.
Almost immediately, white vapor began rising from the damaged area.
The tissue reconstructed itself.
Seconds later, the injury was gone.
One of the officers frowned.
"Steam?"
"Excess thermal energy," Velde explained. "Accelerated regeneration produces enormous amounts of heat. The modified organism would need a mechanism to release that energy."
"So he'll produce steam."
"Essentially."
Another screen appeared.
EXPECTED ADAPTATIONS
Accelerated regeneration
Enhanced physical strength
Enhanced reflexes
Increased sensory perception
Increased physical endurance
Accelerated neurological processing under stress
Improved resistance to trauma
The general stared at the list.
"You're describing a weapon."
Velde looked at Raphael's photograph.
"No."
She paused.
"We're describing what may become one."
Silence filled the chamber.
Another official spoke.
"What about cognitive effects?"
"Unknown. Increased neural efficiency may allow the subject to process information and react substantially faster than a normal human. There may also be secondary adaptations we cannot currently predict."
"And the limits?"
"Unknown."
"Can the regeneration fail?"
"Yes."
"Can he die?"
Velde was silent for a moment.
"Yes."
Artyom's fingers tightened slightly against the table.
It was the only visible reaction he gave.
"And his chances of surviving the procedure?"
Velde looked directly at the Emperor.
"We cannot reliably calculate them."
Nobody spoke.
Raphael's photograph remained suspended above the table.
Sixteen years old.
Military academy cadet.
The Emperor's son.
Finally, one of the council members broke the silence.
"Why Raphael?"
Velde didn't answer.
Artyom did.
"Because he is the only viable candidate."
The council member frowned.
"Your Majesty?"
"His genetic markers correspond with the requirements of Prometheus."
"Does he know?"
"No."
"And Princess Karina?"
"No."
A general shifted uncomfortably.
"He is your son."
Artyom slowly turned toward him.
"I am aware."
"You're asking us to authorize human experimentation on a member of the Imperial Family."
"No."
Artyom's voice was quiet.
"I'm asking you to authorize the only program we possess that may allow the Empire to survive what is coming."
That silenced the room.
Velde closed several documents.
"Then I require final authorization."
A single message appeared above the table.
AUTHORIZE PROJECT PROMETHEUS: HUMAN PHASE
Beneath it:
PRIMARY SUBJECT: RAPHAEL RALFS KASTANOV
Artyom stared at his son's photograph.
For the first time that night, his expression changed.
Not enough for anyone else to understand what he was thinking.
But enough to show that the Emperor had not forgotten the difference between a subject and a son.
Velde waited.
"Your Majesty?"
Artyom placed his hand against the identification panel.
The system scanned him.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the hologram turned white.
IMPERIAL AUTHORIZATION VERIFIED
PROJECT PROMETHEUS APPROVED
Raphael's photograph disappeared.
A countdown replaced it.
SUBJECT PREPARATION: 72 HOURS
Velde gathered her documents.
Artyom remained seated.
"Professor."
She stopped.
"If he survives…"
Velde waited.
The Emperor looked at the countdown.
"…will he still be himself?"
For once, the scientist had no immediate answer.
Finally, she said:
"I don't know."
Three hours later, Raphael stood in the academy corridor beside his sister, completely unaware that somewhere beneath the city a clock was counting down toward him.
Then the lights went out.
Red emergency lamps illuminated the corridor.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
A voice came through the academy speakers.
"Attention to all personnel. First-level security status has been declared."
Raphael's expression immediately changed.
First level.
Not an exercise.
Not a simulation.
A real emergency.
"All cadets are to proceed immediately to their designated sectors. Officers report to command."
Karina looked at him.
"Raphael…"
He was already looking through the window.
Military aircraft appeared above Neo-Riga one after another.
All of them were heading east.
Then his phone vibrated.
One message.
FATHER
Raphael opened it.
Do not return to the palace.
Remain at the academy.
Whatever happens, do not let Karina leave.
Raphael read it twice.
His father never messaged him personally.
Never.
A distant explosion rolled across the city.
The windows trembled.
Karina stared toward the horizon.
A column of black smoke was rising between the towers.
Raphael slowly put the phone into his pocket.
For the first time that morning, he was no longer bored.
He didn't know about Prometheus.
He didn't know why Aoi had come to Neo-Riga.
He didn't know why the eastern airspace had been closed.
And he certainly didn't know that his own father had just authorized an experiment that could either kill him or transform him into something the world had never seen before.
Later, Raphael would remember this morning as the moment his old life ended.
Not when he entered the laboratory.
Not when his wounds first began to heal beneath clouds of white steam.
Not when he discovered what had been done to him.
But here.
In an academy corridor.
Beside his sister.
Watching smoke rise over Neo-Riga while, deep beneath the Imperial Palace, a timer continued counting down.
71:59:42
71:59:41
71:59:40
Project Prometheus had begun.