Prologue: The city of nothing

It had been one hundred and ninety years since the quiet passing of a girl called Elira. The records do not say what she felt. Only that she smiled at the end, and wept. And after that �" no one did.

The city of Orionis learned well. A choice was made. Not by force, not by decree �" but by forgetting. Emotions �" too sharp, too wild, too costly. They burned too bright, consumed too much. Better to live in calm, in order, in perfect, quiet purpose.

And so, one by one, the old words faded.

Laughter. Grief. Anger. Joy.

First unspoken.
Then unknown.

Children grew up with stories they could not feel. Rhymes they could not understand. The Feed taught them: “Purpose. Clarity. Harmony.” And the city obeyed.

Day after day, year after year. Stories were told. Songs were sung. But only as they had been written. Not a word changed. Not a note bent.

Children recited rhymes with even voices and still faces. Meals were eaten. Work was done. Lives unfolded, page by page, exactly as written.

A life without mistakes.
A life without joy.
A life without grief.

And in all that time, almost nothing stirred. Almost. One place remained unscripted. One faint thread, too small to notice.

But no one saw. No one knew.

Not yet.

Author's Note

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