Chapter 0:

Prologue

Genesis: The First Order


The room was hexagonal, its six bunks lined against the cold steel walls like cells in a hive. Each held thin bedding that smelled faintly of disinfectant.
To the far right, three teens whispered in low tones, voices just loud enough to break the oppressive silence. They spoke about things they’d read in the library days ago — fragments of a world they barely remembered.
One had dark skin, his eyes sharp and calculating. Beside him sat a bald boy whose calm demeanor and still posture made him look like a monk from an ancient painting. The third was a boy with glasses, their cracked lenses catching the dull light.

Across from them, two girls shared the next bunk. One’s skin was pale as porcelain, her grey pupils giving her a haunting, almost unreal beauty — like carved snow. Sitting beside her was a smaller girl, her body traced with faint, curling tattoos. If one looked closely, her features bore a resemblance to the bald boy, hinting they might share blood.

In the farthest corner, on the last bunk, sat a girl with black hair. At first glance she seemed unremarkable, but her lifeless greyed-out pupils told another story. Her eye bags hung heavy, her cheeks lined with the dried trails of countless tears. She didn’t just look tired — she looked hollow, as though something vital had been stolen from her long ago.

The others were lively by comparison, sometimes even laughing in hushed tones. But this girl never joined them. She was an island, cut off from the faint warmth that flickered among the others.

“Uyi… are you sure she’ll be okay?” the snow-white girl murmured, her gaze lingering on the black-haired figure.

The dark-skinned boy, Uyi, followed her eyes. For a moment, no one spoke. The weight of the silence pressed on them all.

“She’s always been gloomy, but ever since…” the bald boy began, then stopped, his voice drying up before the truth could surface.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
At first faint. Then louder. Closer.
The steady rhythm felt like a countdown.

Uyi raised his hand in warning. Everyone scrambled to their bunks. Their breathing slowed. Eyes widened. The air thickened with tension, as though the room itself was holding its breath.

The footsteps halted right outside the iron door.
A pause. A breath. Then the hiss of hydraulics.

The door slid open, revealing figures in black uniforms. Soldiers — though unarmed — their faces hidden by matte-black helmets. They lingered in the doorway, silent and watchful.

A man stepped in behind them, his sheer bulk filling the room’s narrow space. His face was bare, scarred, the lines etched deep by years of violence. His gaze swept over each child before locking on the girl with black hair.

Her reaction was instant — primal.
Her eyes widened. She began shaking her head, backing into the farthest corner of her bed. “No… please… no, please…” Her voice broke as tears welled and spilled down her cheeks.

A soldier stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and yanked her to the floor. She screamed, thrashing, fingernails scraping against metal, but the man dragged her from the room without slowing.

Her cries carried down the hallway, long after she was gone, until they finally faded into a chilling silence.

The scarred man lingered, scanning the remaining teens. Then he smirked — a cold, satisfied curve of the lips — and left. The heavy door slammed shut, bolts locking in place with an echo that seemed to press on their chests.

They exhaled as one, relief tempered by the familiar sting of helplessness. She’d been taken before. She would be taken again. All they could do was hope she came back breathing.

They dragged her down a sterile corridor, her bare legs scraping over the grated metal floor until thin trails of blood marked her path. The hall ahead opened into a cavernous room filled with people in lab coats.

Heads turned at her screams — curious at first — but upon recognizing the small black-haired girl, they lost interest, returning to their work as if she were nothing more than background noise.

The space was enormous, crammed with machines both familiar and alien. At its heart stood four massive cryotubes, glass walls fogged by frost. Three were occupied. One stood empty.

Other children, of varying ages, were restrained nearby — quiet, compliant. The black-haired girl, however, fought every hand that touched her. They strapped her to a cold metal bed, belts biting into her wrists and ankles.

A man in a lab coat approached, holding a syringe the size of her forearm. Without a word, he plunged it into her thigh. Pain detonated in her skull. She screamed, her voice raw and piercing.

No one flinched.

They wheeled her toward the center of the hall. Above her hung a mesh frame lined with needles, each glistening under the harsh white lights. One by one, the needles descended, piercing into her flesh — first her hands, then her arms, then deeper still.

Each puncture ripped another scream from her throat. Her body convulsed, muscles jerking violently as chemicals pumped into her bloodstream. Her hair flickered in color — black, then sudden bursts of bright sky-blue — as if her body itself was struggling to contain something unnatural.

She could feel her strength draining fast, but the agony kept her anchored in consciousness. Passing out would have been mercy. This place had no mercy.

When the procedure ended, she lay trembling, eyes open but empty. The shock had hollowed her out.

The scarred giant from before — General Enkari — entered the room.

“General Enkari,” an older man in glasses called out, his voice oily with amusement, “you seem interested in the subject.”

Enkari’s smirk deepened. “Dr. Robert, you’re mistaken. I’m only here to check on the creation.”

A short exchange followed. The truth surfaced: the girl, Gilly, was to be used as fuel for the growth of the other subjects.

She was lifted by a mechanical arm, lowered into the fourth cryotube like cargo.

Enkari studied her one last time. “If only Dr. Asmoth had given us the details before he died,” he murmured. “We might have treated his daughter with kindness.”

Before the weight of his words could sink in, the room trembled. Lights flickered. Steel beams groaned. For a few seconds the floor swayed underfoot, then stilled.

Everyone froze, listening.

A single, thunderous boom split the air. Enkari’s frown deepened. He strode out, soldiers close behind.

The alarms wailed. Red light bled into the hall.

“Code Zero! Code Zero!” the loudspeakers screamed.

The lab exploded into chaos. Researchers grabbed papers, hard drives, anything they could carry. Some rushed to herd children out. Others scrambled to secure the equipment.