velwoven

  Prologue

  The Day the Sky Fell12:44, February 28, 2284

  T?yengata 24, 0188 Oslo, Norway, Nordic Commonwealth territory

  "Pappa," Sigrún Fjeld began, her voice trembling slightly, "I…I don't want to continue with my Fusion Tech Management degree."

  The crisp winter air nibbled at her ivory cheeks as she sipped her steaming caffè tte, its rich aroma mingling with the scent of baked potatoes that wafted from the nearby oven. She sat across from her father, Harald Omdal, at a outdoor dining area, their breaths forming fleeting puffs of vapor in the chill.

  "What do you mean, 'you don't want to continue'?" he asked, his voice sharp as the frost that coated the ground.

  Sigrún fidgeted in her seat. "I've been thinking about it a lot these past few weeks. Everything they teach feels so corporate and rigid. I don't want to treat people like assets."

  Sigrún's shoulder-length blonde hair fluttered in the biting wind like golden waves, and she couldn't help but shiver in her oversized gray sweater and dark jeans.

  Harald, a man in his seventies, sat across from her, his sharp sapphire-blue eyes — mirroring Sigrún’s own — focused on her. His white hair was swept back in thick, unruly waves, and a neatly groomed beard framed his face, emphasizing his good health unaffected by his age. He wore a crisp blue button-down shirt and tailored scks.

  They were in the middle of their lunch, having just finished their salmon kj?ttkake with a side of bitter leaf sad.

  Harald's spoon, den with a generous helping of riskremmbr?d, froze halfway to his lips. He set it down, his eyes narrowing.

  "Sigrún. You must realize how much I’ve invested in your education," he said sternly. "Fusion Tech Management at Lund University is not cheap, especially after the colpse of the European Union."

  "I know, Pappa," she replied, her deep blue eyes shimmering with determination. "But it's not what I want to do with my life."

  Harald leaned forward, his knuckles against the table. "And what do you think you're going to do instead? Chase" — he spat the word — "art?"

  Sigrún's cheeks flushed a crimson. "Yes," she whispered. "I want to sing. I want to create songs that inspire people. It's my passion."

  Harald's face fell, his brow furrowing. "FTM is a ticket to high-paying jobs at a major tech corporation on Earth," he paused, his gaze boring into hers. "Synne, vet du hvilken sjelden mulighet du kaster bort? [Synne, do you know what a rare opportunity you are wasting?]"

  "Jeg vet, [I know,]" she replied, switching back to English, "but I'm just not happy. Management is not for me."

  The waitress arrived with additional food, setting down a ptter of traditional sm?rrebr?d, topped with exotic spices from Mars. The smell of smoked salmon and dill mingled.

  Harald reached for his fork. "Sigrún, things have changed since I was your age. Scandinavia’s economy is not what it used to be. I don't want you to resort to dangerous or shady jobs on Venus like your half-siblings."

  "I know," she said, voice softening, "but I need to do this. I'll find a job, I promise."

  The tension at the table lessened, the tiniest of smiles pying on both their faces. Sigrún reached over and squeezed her father's hand. "Skal vi spise n?, Pappa? [Shall we eat now, Dad?]"

  "Ja, dekker opp for meg, [Yes, that works for me.]" Harald pondered, gaze lingering on Sigrún. "But promise me you'll at least give it another semester before making any final decisions."

  Sigrún sighed, her fingers pying with the edge of her coffee cup as she relented. "I promise."

  "Good," he said as they ate their sm?rrebr?d.

  The cobblestone streets were warmed by subterranean cold fusion heaters, while wooden buildings stood in contrast to the sleek, fusion-powered vehicles that glided along the roads.

  Harald extended a hand and gave Sigrún a pat on the shoulder. "Your mother would be proud of you."

  Sigrún smiled and tilted her head. She wished her mother were here.

  A crude ugh erupted from an adjacent table. Sigrún turned to see two men with olive complexions and narrow dark eyes seated nearby, simir dishes spread before them.

  "*Tā mā de liě! Suǒyǐ nǐ bǎ Kaori cāole?*" one said, his frame wide and chubby beneath his cropped hair.

  "*Dāngrán ! Zuó wǎn dōu hēle, bù gàn zěn xíng,*" the other man, bald and wiry, decred with a smirk.

  "Imperials," Sigrún muttered under her breath, lifting her coffee cup as she observed them from the corner of her eye.

  "*ǎi, gé zhuō nà yáng niū hǎo xiāng a. Nǐ juédé gàn yīcì duōshǎo qián?*" The bald man turned, his gaze crawling over Sigrún's figure with undisguised interest.

  "*Nǐ tā mā quē nǎo a. Tóng zhuō tā lǎo diē, zěnme nòng sǐ nǐ dōu bù zhīdào!*" His companion cast a wary gnce at Harald, waving a hand before his friend's face in warning.

  "*Qiè! Jiù huànxiǎng éryǐ huì zěnyàng?*" The bald man turned away but not before spitting a half-chewed piece of salmon onto the ground. "*Wǒ cāo. Zhè guīyú yǒu cì.*"

  "Barbaric," Sigrún commented, her eyes narrowing. "Don't they teach basic manners in the Imperium?"

  "I've been watching those two," Harald said, his attention returning to his meal. "Don't let them trouble you. Not all Imperial travelers behave that way."

  "They act like they own the Inner Sol, strutting about like spoiled princes." Sigrún's frown deepened as she set down her cup.

  "Without Imperial tourism, many settlements across the Five Realms would struggle," Harald replied, selecting a whole-grain toast from the basket. "It is what it is."

  "Ysolde told me they pee on the streets too." Sigrún shook her head in disgust, reaching for her own slice of bread.

  Harald yered sweet brown cheese and strawberry jam on his toast with methodical precision. "A great peril approaches the Inner Sol. We'll need the strength of all habitable worlds to overcome it. Earth, Mars, Venus. And of course, Osram."

  "What do you mean?" Sigrún looked up, her fingers pausing in their work.

  "Nothing to worry about now. Focus on your studies." Harald reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver Nordic pendant, delicate engravings along its edges. At its heart, a blue jewel shaped like an orb was encased within an ornate, shield-like structure, framed by sharp, crescent-like curves that extended upwards.

  The jewel itself pulsed faintly with an inner light, hanging from a fine silver chain.

  "This has been handed down through generations in House Omdal," he said, voice softened by reverence. "The Pendant of Mánagrát. Traditionally, it’s worn by the family's wisest daughter."

  Sigrún stared down at the pendant in his hand. She shook her head slightly. "I’m not sure… shouldn’t this go to someone who actually shares your name? I mean, I carry my mother’s."

  Harald pced the pendant firmly in her palm, his fingers covering hers. "Sigrún, you’re an Omdal in all the ways that matter. You’re my daughter — the only one who’s inherited both her mother’s tenacity and her father’s mind. My other children never pushed themselves as hard as you have." He paused, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "If anyone deserves this pendant, it’s you."

  Sigrún’s fingers tightened around the pendant. "But…I’m not…official." She gnced away, her cheeks coloring. "And Mama…she was a Leased Lily. Offered sex for money. People talk."

  Harald quickly set his hand on her shoulder, steady and unflinching. "Don’t let the circumstances of your birth make you feel lesser. If there’s anyone to bme for that, it’s me, not you." His eyes softened further. "And your mother was a brave woman, working in a field few dare to tread in hard times. I respected her for it."

  Sigrún finally nodded, her fingers brushing over the pendant’s intricate engravings. The silver amulet gleamed against her pale skin as she fastened it around her neck.

  "It looks good on you," Harald said with pride.

  "Thank you, Pappa," Sigrún replied, her fingers tracing the patterns on the pendant's surface. "What did you say this was called?"

  "The Pendant of Mánagrát," Harald said, voice softening with reverence. "The amulet will soothe your soul during times of sorrow or difficulty. The blue jewel is said to have come from a million-year-old crystal at some point. When you’re older, I’ll tell you what crystal it is."

  Sigrún gnced down at the pendant and wondered if it was connected to her family’s psionic ancestry. For now, she offered her father a half-smile and a nod. "I'll treasure it always."

  "If anyone asks, Sigrún," Harald said, leaning closer to not be overheard. "Just tell them it’s a souvenir. Keep our family's psionic heritage to yourself while at school."

  With a reluctant sigh, Sigrún acquiesced. "Yes, I understand."

  "Good," Harald replied, his eyes searching her face. "I just want you to be safe, Sigrún —"

  A soft electronic tone interrupted their conversation as nearby diners checked their devices. Murmurs came through the restaurant.

  Harald looked to the eastern horizon, his brow furrowing slightly. For a moment, his weathered face seemed to age further.

  "Is something wrong?" Sigrún asked.

  Harald shook his head, his attention returning to her. "Just thinking about the communication bckouts from Fredrikstad this morning. The officials bme it on fusion grid maintenance, but..." He trailed off, his fingers drumming on the table.

  "But you don't believe that," Sigrún finished for him.

  A trio of officers in blue-white Alliance uniforms passed by their table, walking and ughing loudly as they headed toward the industrial district. Sigrúns' sharp sense of smell picked up the scent of alcohol from them.

  "So you what, went to that Skip-per-something district?" one of the officers said.

  "Skippergaten, dude! It was fucking heaven." the other officer replied.

  "Right, right, that. Was it good?"

  "Fuck yeah. Best pussies I've ever tasted."

  "Gd to see you two enjoying the pce. Just make sure Finn signs that Helionite contract today." a third officer chimed in, his voice more seasoned and calmer.

  "Yes, sir," the first officer scratched his head as the trio continued forth, disappearing into the distance.

  Sigrún's eyes followed them, her expression hardening.

  "I heard they're expanding the Helionite disposal facility near Fredrikstad," she said, her voice tight with anger. "More nuclear waste from North America and Mainnd China dumped in our waters. As if the fjords were their personal trash cans."

  Harald studied his daughter's face. "You've been talking to those student activists again?"

  "They're right, Pappa. The Alliance, the Imperium, the Directorate – they all treat our homend like a pyground," Sigrún replied, her fingers curling around her coffee cup. "Our government accepts their bribes while they poison our waters. The environmental science department just published a study. Contamination levels have doubled in the st three years!"

  Harald sighed. "Sigrún, those so called 'bribes' fund the new social welfare system. Our economy—"

  "Our economy shouldn't come at the cost of our health," she interrupte with vehemence. The pendant seemed to pulse in rhythm with her anger.

  Harald's eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, Sigrún glimpsed something - a mixture of pride and fear.

  "There are things happening, Sigrún. Things I've been tracking. The waste management facilities in the eastern regions have reported... irregurities."

  A strange stillness fell over the street. The birds that had been singing in the nearby trees went silent. The air seemed to thicken.

  Sigrún noticed her father's fingers twitch slightly—a gesture she recognized from rare moments when his control slipped. His hand quickly fttened against the table, but not before she caught the familiar stance. How many times had she secretly watched him practice those movements in his study, when he thought she was asleep?

  A sudden wail of sirens pierced the air. The calm atmosphere shattered as people around them began to scramble in panic. She rose from her seat, her eyes darting around.

  "Pappa, what's happening?" she questioned, the pendant suddenly feeling heavy amidst the chaos.

  Before Harald could reply, a group of humanoid creatures appeared from behind him, their gait slow and unnatural. As they drew closer, their flesh seemed to rot away before her eyes, transforming into dark brown, hunchbacked monsters. Sigrún's breath hitched.

  "Jeg tror ikke mine egne ?yne — ! [I can't believe my own eyes — !]" She whispered, unable to tear her gaze from the approaching horrors.

  Her father, too, stared at them, face contorted with dread. "Furuset fell silent this morning." his eyes darted to the eastern horizon where more were emerging. "Fredrikstad went dark an hour ago. I had hoped..."

  The monsters closed in, their features grotesque. One of them reached out a gnarled hand and grabbed a man at the neighboring table, tearing him apart in a spray of blood and viscera. The sickening sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing filled the air as the creature greedily devoured its victim's skull and spine.

  "Who — what are those things!" she gasped, her body shaking with terror.

  "No time to expin!" Harald shouted as he grasped Sigrún's trembling hand and pulled her close. "To my car! We'll drive to the Starport!"

  Above them, mutated creatures resembling eyeless bats took to the skies, screeching and swooping down upon the fleeing crowd. Sigrún's stomach churned at the sight, but her legs propelled her forward.

  A child's scream pierced the air as one of the creatures lunged toward a nearby family. Harald's hands moved in motion as he spoke in a clear, resonant voice: "Fulmen Argentum!"

  Silver lightning erupted from his palms, striking the monster and sending it reeling backward.

  More creatures descended from above, but Harald raised both hands, speaking again: "Scutum Lunaris!"

  A translucent silver barrier materialized above them, deflecting the swooping monsters and buying precious seconds as chaos erupted around them.

  "Everything we've built since the Fusion Revolution," Harald continued, his voice tight, "these monsters threaten to tear it all down. Drawn to our nuclear waste like moths to fme."

  "You know them?" Sigrún watched her father maintain the shield. She'd seen him use psionic abilities before, but never in actual combat.

  "More than I’d like. Thanks to human lust — the Nucleus Virus — they're spreading faster than anyone can contain them." he said as they ran.

  Sigrún’s fingers brushed against the pendant's surface, its blue jewel oddly warm against her skin.

  "The car park's three blocks away," she said, already mapping their route in her head. "But those things are between us and—" She paused, eyes darting to the nearby fusion-powered tram station. "Pappa, the maintenance tunnel! The one behind the station. It connects directly to Sector H where you parked."

  Her father's eyes lit up. "Good thinking, Synne."

  They changed course, weaving through the panicked crowd. When one of the eyeless creatures swooped too close, Sigrún grabbed a fallen umbrel, swinging it in a wide arc. She gnced down at the Pendant of Mánagrát that hung around her neck, her sapphire eyes tracing its outline for any sembnce of comfort.

  "Stay close!" Harald urged as they dashed towards the unknown, their hearts pounding in unison with the beat of monstrous wings above.

  In the mid 21st Century, an altered sor wind triggered changes that would reshape humanity's destiny. The discovery of Zephyrium — a source of limitless cold fusion energy — ignited the Third World War that led to the rise of Africa and Eastern Europe, accompanied by the colpse of powers including the United States, Communist China, the Russian Federation and other major influences relying on petroleum.

  What remained of our societies emerged stronger, not only saving Earth from environmental annihition but awakening psionic abilities in the next generation, ushering in an era of medical breakthroughs and societal transformation.

  Humanity expanded across the Sol System. The Inner Sol — Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars — became bustling centers of civilization. Jupiter's transformed moons, dubbed "the Realm of Divines", offered new frontiers of both promise and peril. Saturn's domain earned the name "Realm of Grim-Harvest", as ships venturing there vanished without a trace. Beyond y the untamed reaches of Uranus (Realm of Zenith) and Neptune (Realm of Sapphire Sea), where only the boldest dared venture.

  Yet with progress came threat: the Radi-Mons, creatures born of radiation that fed on fusion waste and human flesh. These beings spread the Nucleus Virus — a sexually transmitted disease promising immortality at the cost of sanity — across every inhabited world known to man.

  Over two centuries ter, the bance of power had shifted. By 2295, Nordic Europeans became a nomadic people with Scandinavia in ruins, while the rest of Europe united under the Zorian Covenant originating from the Balto-Svic region.

  Meanwhile, the Imperium of Dragons rose from China to dominate Earth and beyond. Only the Terra Alliance of North America and Africa's Emerald Directorate stood against their expansion. At the heart of their brewing conflict: the Moondust Crystal, an artifact of immense power buried within Osram—Earth's Moon—promising dominion to whoever cimed it.

  In this crucible of ambition and survival, four lives would intertwine — as allies, lovers, and enemies — their choices shaping the future of humanity.

  Thus begins…

  velwoven