Chapter 1: “The Blue Edict”
The air vibrated with a quiet tension, each molecule seeming to hold its breath along with the crowd that filled the town square. Giant, weathered billboards surrounding the area displayed the ever-watchful insignia of Queen Seraphis Null—her emblem of a blank mask framed by abstract wings. Though worn and peeling, the symbol loomed over the citizens like a relic from a bygone age of might and mystery.
Drones, their metallic bodies dulled by years of use and disrepair, hovered above, capturing each face and movement. The public announcement system crackled to life, its voice emotionless yet penetrating.
“Attention citizens. Queen Seraphis Null’s edict will commence in T-minus 5 minutes. Assemble in the designated viewing areas. Non-compliance will result in penalties.”
A murmur spread, a soft current of whispers and shifting feet. Parents pulled their children closer, and the elderly exchanged knowing glances, their eyes filled with a mix of resignation and unspoken questions. Each edict had sculpted their lives, like water shaping stone, eroding freedoms and shaping fears.
At the heart of the square, the ancient holographic screen flickered on, its pale light casting ghostly hues on upturned faces. Despite its pixelated imperfections and dead spots, the screen commanded undivided attention. It was the lens through which the will of Queen Seraphis Null would be revealed, and everyone waited in a blend of dread and devotion to hear what new shape their lives would now take.
The soft cacophony of whispers and shuffling feet reached a fevered pitch until it was as if the very atmosphere were about to rupture. Then, with no warning, the screen blinked out momentarily, plunging the square into deeper darkness.
But before anyone could react, the screen roared back to life with a burst of blinding blue light, turning the night into artificial day for a split second. Blinking spots from their eyes, the crowd was momentarily disoriented, and in that pause, a deep hush settled over the square.
The blue light softened, giving way to the majestic royal insignia—a blank mask framed by abstract wings, the haunting symbol of Queen Seraphis Null. It was as if her very essence had materialized in the air above them.
Then, the first chords of the anthem resonated from the loudspeakers, solemn and haunting. The tune was familiar yet always unnerving, a melody that spoke of lost freedoms and a ruler who could never be questioned. The crowd, now caught in a collective trance, fell completely silent. Even the youngest children seemed to grasp the gravity of the moment, their eyes wide and their small bodies still.
And so, enveloped by the blue hue of the hologram and the mesmerizing strains of the anthem, the citizens awaited the words that would shape their lives once more.
As the final chord of the anthem reverberated in the air, the holographic insignia began to pixelate, the particles swirling like a digital storm. From this chaos emerged a figure, its form assembling itself particle by particle until it stood complete—Queen Seraphis Null.
She was swathed in layers of flowing blue robes, the fabric shimmering with an otherworldly light that seemed to come from within. Her face, or where her face should have been, was covered by an ornate blue mask, featureless and enigmatic. Even as a hologram, her presence was magnetic; her masked visage seemed to peer into the soul of every individual in the crowd.
The Queen raised an arm adorned in blue, and the motion was so fluid, so hypnotic, that it was as if she moved through water. As her arm reached its apex, the crowd instinctively held their breath.
Her voice, when it came, was a symphony of tones—neither wholly mechanical nor entirely human. It resonated with authority, filling the air like a physical force.
“Citizens,” she began, and even that single word carried a weight that silenced any remaining whispers. “It is a time for unity, for obedience, for sacrifice.”
The words hung in the air, as if charged with electricity. And in that moment, each person in the crowd felt a unique blend of emotions: awe, fear, and a flicker of something indefinable—hope, perhaps, or maybe desperation. It was as though Queen Seraphis Null had a tether to the very core of their beings, pulling each emotion to the surface with the gravity only she possessed.
Queen Seraphis Null paused, allowing her words to permeate the collective consciousness. The silence was so palpable it felt like a physical barrier, a wall that could either imprison or protect, depending on one’s perspective.
“Tonight,” she continued, her voice modulating to a softer, almost intimate tone, “I introduce the Blue Edict. Effective immediately, all citizens are mandated to report any signs of rebellion or dissent. Loyalty will be rewarded. Disobedience will not be tolerated.”
As she spoke, a projection of a blue parchment unrolled next to her, detailing the new laws in unreadable, arcane symbols that nonetheless felt foreboding. At the bottom, her featureless blue mask served as a seal—a mark of unquestionable authority.
The Queen’s arm lowered gracefully, her palm facing the crowd as if imparting a blessing—or perhaps a curse. “Compliance will ensure your safety. Defiance will lead to your isolation. The choice is yours.”
Then, with a flourish, her figure disintegrated into a swirl of blue pixels, fading away to leave only her insignia, which lingered for a heartbeat before the screen went dark.
The crowd was left in stunned silence, each individual processing the gravity of the Blue Edict. Feelings of dread mixed with a sense of inevitability. It was a new world they were entering, one sculpted by the hands of their Faceless Queen, and the path forward was as unknown as the woman who ruled them.
The holographic screen blinked out, its absence leaving an almost palpable void in the square. Eyes that had been fixed on the haunting blue glow now darted around, skimming over familiar faces—yet no one held a gaze for long. It was as if they feared what might be revealed in a shared look.
Mara’s grip tightened around her young son Eli’s hand, her knuckles whitening. Her eyes met those of Mrs. Thompson, her once-chatty neighbor. For a split second, a flicker of the old camaraderie passed between them—then vanished, replaced by a cautious reserve.
A few paces away, Thomas’s fists clenched and unclenched involuntarily. Lines deepened on his weathered face, etching a roadmap of memories from before—the ‘before’ that now seemed as distant as a forgotten childhood tale.
Above them, drones buzzed like vigilant hornets, adjusting their camera angles. Their movements, once random, became pointed, tracking individuals as they started to disperse. It was as if an unseen net was closing in, one pixelated square at a time.
The crowd fractured, people peeling away in ones and twos, their steps hesitant but accelerating, as though distance could dilute the weight of the words still hanging in the air.
The square had emptied considerably, leaving patches of vacancy like voids in a fabric. Yet amidst the departing crowd, Xylox stood still, his brows furrowed, his eyes not mirroring the collective dread most carried.
He glanced sideways, locking eyes with Zaela, who stood a few feet away. Zaela’s expression held a similar note of disquiet, a splinter of skepticism in a sea of acceptance.
Xylox flicked his wrist, subtly activating his augmented reality interface—a relic from their engineering days and a secret channel between them. Text materialized in the air in front of Zaela: “Something’s not right.”
Zaela glanced at the text, then back at Xylox, eyes widening momentarily before sending a reply through her own interface. Floating words appeared before Xylox: “Meet at the usual spot. We need to talk.”
As people trickled out of the square, the pair kept up appearances, their faces neutral as they headed in opposite directions. Yet, their casual departures belied the urgency each felt.
Drones hummed overhead, their lenses adjusting and refocusing. Xylox felt the cold gaze of the machines but kept his expression unreadable. It was crucial now, more than ever, to be a face in the crowd.
As he left the square, Xylox replayed the Queen’s words in his head: “Unity, obedience, sacrifice.” Each term weighed heavy, yet his mind buzzed not with fear, but questions.
The crowd had thinned, but a sense of collective expectation still hung thickly in the air, like the haze after fireworks. That’s when it happened—a streak of motion at the periphery, a blur clothed in shadow.
A hooded figure lunged forward from the cover of an alley, arm extended. In a blink, a small, spherical device spiraled through the air and adhered itself to the massive holographic screen.
A split second later, a shockwave of light and sound emanated from the device—an EMP, an Electromagnetic Pulse. The screen flickered, distorted, and then blackened entirely. A gasp tore through the remnant crowd as if the air had been collectively vacuumed from their lungs.
Guards, their faces concealed behind visors and armor, materialized as if summoned by the chaos. They sprinted towards the hooded figure, who was already turning to flee, their movements a fluid dance of evasion and escape.
The EMP’s interference disrupted even the guards’ advanced gear, their HUDs flickering in and out of focus. But it wasn’t enough; a laser net shot from one guard’s weapon, narrowly missing the hooded figure as they darted into another hidden recess of the maze-like city.
In that brief moment of darkness, every eye was averted from the screen, from the guards, from the perpetrator. Instead, they looked at each other as if seeing their neighbors for the first time—as co-conspirators? As threats? No one could be sure. But the mask of unified obedience had cracked, and something primal, questioning, and perhaps even hopeful had been released into the air.
For a heartbeat, the square was a cacophony of whispers and indecipherable murmurs. Then, as if resurrected by some arcane force, the massive holographic screen flickered back to life.
Queen Seraphis Null reappeared, her ethereal blue visage more intimidating than before. Her opaque, mask-like face seemed to sharpen, as if the very air bent around her displeasure.
“Disruption will not be tolerated,” she intoned, her voice modulated but carrying an unmistakable edge of wrath. “You are one, under my guidance. Any fracture in this unity will be swiftly dealt with. For those who defy…retribution awaits.”
And as quickly as she’d appeared, she vanished. But her departure wasn’t complete; a blue mist, dense and impenetrable, clung to the screen as if infused with her essence, a lingering reminder of her omnipresence and might.
The crowd, once buzzing with the frenetic energy of confusion and potential rebellion, seemed to fold inward. Heads bowed, not daring to meet another’s eye, as if afraid they might find their own disobedience reflected back.
No one spoke. No one needed to. Her message was clear: Deviation would not be tolerated. As the mist dissipated, people felt its weight settling onto them, a yoke woven from equal parts awe and dread.
In the aftermath, as the square cleared and the remaining guards hustled the captured hooded figure into an armored vehicle, Xylox lingered at the periphery, his eyes narrowed.
Something glinting on the cobblestones caught his eye—a shard of circuitry, possibly dislodged from the EMP device during the arrest. He picked it up discreetly, tucking it into his pocket as he observed the guards shoving the hooded figure into the vehicle.
Their eyes met, just for a moment. The hood had slipped slightly, revealing eyes that burned with an unsettling mixture of desperation and secrecy. Those eyes locked onto Xylox’s, and though no words were exchanged, a weighty message seemed to pass between them.
As the vehicle sped away, Xylox clutched the piece of circuitry in his pocket. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered in his engineering work—a blend of materials and design that defied his understanding. A puzzle, a warning, a sign of things far more complex than even he had suspected.
His engineering curiosity was now fully alight, but so too was a newfound sense of foreboding. The desperation in those eyes haunted him, suggesting that whatever game was unfolding here, the stakes were unimaginably high.
The ambient hum of the underground room faded into a tense silence as Zaela and Xylox pored over the holographic blueprints. Xylox’s device vibrated subtly, indicating a new message. He glanced at the notification, expecting another routine security update. Instead, what he saw made his heart skip a beat.
“Find the truth about the Blue Queen. Start at the Old Archives. Trust no one.”
His eyes darted up to meet Zaela’s, who was absorbed in a schematic of the city’s surveillance grid. For the first time, he noticed how her eyes seemed to avoid certain sections of the map—sensitive locations he now realized she’d never discussed with him.
The room’s atmosphere seemed to change, the weight of the anonymous message turning the air dense, almost suffocating. A disquieting thought slithered into Xylox’s mind: Could he even trust Zaela, his partner in rebellion, his confidante in this suffocating world?
He closed the message, but its words reverberated in his mind, echoing with a resonance that shook the very foundations of his beliefs.
“Trust no one.”
