The Second Node was never a single galaxy.
It was a patchwork — a vast celestial sprawl of over 500 dwarf galaxies and more than 20 minor ones. Together, they formed a chaotic lattice of starlight and gravity, their combined mass rivaling that of a spiral giant like the Milky Way.
Unbound by script. A cradle for beginnings — and endings.
Near the Node's center, nestled among twenty minor galaxies orbiting in unstable harmony, is one called Verdane. Verdane Cluster is a lush, untamed galactic region known for vibrant biospheres, abundant Aether flow, and unusually fertile planets.
And among its vibrant systems spins a planet named Vireya.
A vast, raw world two times the radius of Earth,
Vireya is a planet of jagged continents and sprawling forests, scattered archipelagos, and snow-crowned mountains. Life thrives here like it's in a hurry—fauna and flora competing in brilliant chaos across its biomes.
Vireya revolves around a star the locals call Solon—a sun larger and hotter than Earth's. Yet despite that, its orbit takes just about 365 days, thanks to the delicate clockwork of celestial math and a tilted axial spin that spreads its seasons like a painter testing new shades. Each year is split not by numbers but by elements—twelve months, each tied to an affinity: Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, and the rarer ones—Ice, Lightning, Light etc..
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21st of Fulmen.
The Month aligned with Lightning.
In the south of Vireya, far from any of the great empires or bustling trade continents, lies a cradle of stone and sea: a sprawling chain of massive islands blanketed in thick forests and jagged cliffs. These are the Vaelmir Isles—a kingdom unto itself, ruled not by inheritance but by ambition.
At the heart of one of the large islands, high atop an ocean-bent hill, stood the ancestral estate of the Ryla family.
Today, the air shimmered with something more than salt and wind.
The First Lady of the House was giving birth to their fourth child.
Aether-infused wards pulsed gently around the chamber. Soft-blue holograms monitored her vitals. Runes hummed at the edges of the room, and medics moved with purpose—skilled, silent, and well-equipped.
Suddenly, a ripple threaded through Vireya's skies, high above the Ryla estate. Storms flickered to life over distant seas. Static danced along treetops, clinging to leaves like a whisper of thunder.
No one noticed.
But quietly, undeniably—
a soul had arrived.
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At first, there was nothing.
No sky. No ground. No body to belong to.
Just the vague sense that he'd once been something — but now was only a flicker, adrift in the dark. He didn't know his name. Couldn't remember where he'd come from. Or if he'd ever even left.
It felt like floating in sleep. Not the peaceful kind. The kind where you know you're dreaming, but can't wake up. Where time doesn't move, and neither do you.
But then—
Something changed.
A light appeared. Distant. Faint. Not warm, not cold. Just there. And somehow... true.
He didn't hear a voice. Didn't feel a call.
But every fiber of his drifting self knew—
That's where I need to go.
His soul stirred, slow and unsure, like limbs waking up after numbness. He reached for the light—not with hands, because he didn't have any—but with the will to exist. And in that moment, he remembered wanting.
Wanting to move. To live. To be.
So he went.
The void peeled away. The light grew stronger. Brighter. Until—
Thud.
A pulse. Not his.
Thud.
A second one. Still not his.
But waiting—expecting something.
Then it hit him.
He wasn't replacing a soul.
He was answering a call—becoming what the body had been waiting for.
In Omniscript-watched galaxies, souls do not bind at conception.
The vessel remains unmarked, waiting—until just before birth, when the form is ready to receive. A brief, silent moment. A sliver of fate.
And this one… had remained untouched. Incomplete.
There was no soul to fight. No mind to override.
No presence to push aside.
And he—whatever he had once been—was now the only soul it would ever know..
As he crossed the final barrier of light, something ancient brushed against him. A presence without form, but with infinite reach.
The Omniscript.
It didn't speak. It simply observed.
And then — it marked him.
A thread of brilliant silver laced into his soul like a signature burned into parchment.
Not a warning. Not a rejection.
A welcome.
He was now a part of this world. A native of Vireya, of the Verdane Cluster, and of the Second Node.
As his soul sank into the forming body—cells aligning, breath forming, heartbeat syncing—he felt something begin.
A life not borrowed. Not stolen.
A soul reborn across the stars—
not as an intruder,
but as the first breath of something new.