“We use the dust storm,” former Matriarch Nagoya had said with the absolute confidence of someone without any grasp on the complexity of such a task, Nora knew.

  Be it a sound suggestion or not, the fact remained that time was falling short and conjuring any sort of counter-phage was beginning to border on what seemed like alchemy. A monumental task, Nora felt. She also knew, deep down somewhere inside of her, that this is what she had set out to do when leaving behind her quiet life on Pedi Mond.

  The arrival in the Ganon System had been something. Nora’s funds had finally dwindled to a few units short of nothing, having spent the remainder on their transit from Vass, to which Bruin attempted to refuse payment. Nora had insisted, just thankful for their fortunes, at least until what came next. Falling out of rift into the firestorm, they found themselves in what might have seemed like a fairytale to her when she first heard it.

  Matriarch Kerrigen, who confusingly enough wasn’t the only Federation monarch in the system, had contacted their shuttle within an hour of their arrival. During their transit to the planet, Bruin had accepted the bulletin request and was just as surprised as any of them to see the face of a sitting queen staring back at them.

  The woman on the other end of the bulletin had been stoic, almost rigid if not for the molten-like ripple of the bulletin wallscreen projection. But listening to her plea for help and her refusal to allow Bruin to land anywhere but the most opulent estate grounds on the planet, Nora knew she was in for some surprises.

  After landing and a brief goodbye to another short-lived friendship, Bruin had taken the shuttle back out of the atmosphere.

  “I’m headed back home,” he had said, wishing them luck, “–it’s been nearly a year, and I find myself with a sudden itch to head thataway.”

  “I hope our paths cross again one day,” Nora said in reply. And without another word or fruitless parting, the Morbius Charters shuttle lifted off and spread a tumult of sand in its wake.

  Getting to work now in the same cleanroom they had been dissecting Tolly’s friend only moments earlier, Nora began scrawling notes on any surface she could find. At the same time, Oscar walked about, pilfering the cabinets and drawers for any implement he could. Nora wasn’t sure what his endgame was. Maybe he was trying to spark something in himself. Whatever works, she thought.

  There were still a dozen or so questions rattling around inside of Nora, questions that starved for answers. Questions that only bred further questions. She could feel herself spiralling at a point, and after a fervour of a detour from her note-taking did she notice that each of her questions began to take shape, feverously laid out in bullet form on the wallscreen in front of her.

  It wasn’t until she paused and took a step back that Oscar took notice.

  “I see you and I have things to discuss,” he said, walking over with what looked like a centrifuge in his suited hands.

  “Where are the others?” Nora asked, surprised with her own restraint in that that was the first of her questions.

  “I did not see a need to keep Tolly’s friend lambasting in the open as he was,” he said, “While you were busy, Tolly and Miran took Soren’s body to rest. They’re walking him to the incinerator as we speak. The Matriarch Kerrigen and that Rissa that wouldn’t take her eyes off me since I removed my helm left shortly after that.”

  Nora paused at this. “And you’re sure we’re not going to need it –him?” she corrected, “What if we need another sample?”

  “I’m all the sample we’re going to need,” Oscar assured her. Nora wasn’t convinced.

  “You seem to think we can work miracles in the–” Nora checked the wallscreen, “two hours and thirty-eight minutes we have left.”

  “I’m optimistic.”

  “The questions then,” Nora said, “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “You seem to have a pretty good idea,” Oscar gestured at the itemised list. “Why don’t you start at the top– you want to know more about the phage?”

  “For starters,” she said, “you said it’s used to reproduce. That implies some sort of host is always needed for the transformation to take place. Your biology depends on the consumption of others.”

  “Indeed,” he said, “though never in such torturous a way as you are familiar.”

  “Genocide is still genocide, regardless of intention,” Nora argued.

  “You are right. I meant that never has the transformative power of the phage been unleashed on such a scale before now. I dare not make light of our practices, but this is how it has always been. My people cannot reproduce on their own.”

  “And yet here you are, standing in the face of all that.”

  “...and why I have been cast out. I am seen as something inherently perverse, looked down on. Many of the augurs have argued since the day of my birth that I be erased.”

  “Many. So, not all?”

  “There were a select few who saw as my father did; that I might serve some future use. And so I was protected in my early life – hidden away. Until my father chose to demonstrate his intentions for me to our people; to one day act as a counter to the throne.”

  “How could a single person hope to balance such a thing?” Nora asked.

  “I have spoken of the Will, a subconscious force that binds our society to the subservience of our king.”

  “And you being born, somehow slaps all that in the face?” asked Nora.

  “I stand apart from the Will. An outsider to my own people, able to see into their world through a window but never being locked within its walls. I am free to come and go, and for that, I am a threat.”

  “This Will is some sort of mental force– like mind control?”

  “More like a realm of subconscious suggestion. The mind that can dominate is able to bend those beneath him to their purposes. In a more nefarious habitat, such domination might lead to chaos. But on my world, it breeds unity.”

  “Uniting a people isn’t the same as enslaving them. I think you have your words wrong.”

  “And therein lives the lie, the lie of The Will, of the Golden Utopia,” he said, “I was raised in a golden world of delights, pampered by beautiful servants, fed the most delicious delicacies. I even lived in a true-to-word golden palace. I wanted for naught. But it was all a farce, one that being what I am, I was able to see around.”

  “You call your planet a utopia. What did you mean by that?”

  “You think of utopia as a place of harmony, no? I speak of it as a place of peace. Within our lie, the Ghede live subservient to those above them, unaware as to the true nature of what exists before them.”

  “What do you call your world then, if utopia is a lie?” Nora asked.

  “Our planet is not known by your people, other than it being our home. For that purpose, its name is our own; Ghede. It is a desolate place, wrapped in a veneer of pearlescent glory.”

  “If the place is a lie, what about everything else?”

  “The servants; drones, not unlike the spectres. The food...” he said before cutting himself off.

  “No,” Nora said in alarm, “that’s wretched.”

  Oscar didn’t disagree.

  “You must have hated your father for subjecting you to that.”

  “I knew no difference,” he admitted, “until I began to see the lie for what it was. I had no one with the power to teach me otherwise.”

  “Surely your father, The King, could have taught you?”

  “And he did, when the time was right. But he too delved too deeply into his own lie. He dreaded the mantle placed on him, you see. He knew he wanted to be rid of it one day, and I think in me he saw his chance.”

  “He wanted to use you to free your people?” asked Nora.

  “I feel as he may have, for a time. But as he fell more in bed with the lie, his resolve waned,” he said, “I believe it is at this moment, Nin was able to influence my expulsion.”

  Nora was beginning to feel a pang of empathy for the man. Party to murder, admitted cannibal, and dreadful horror he was to look at, it still stung to be thrown away by your own blood.

  “Your brother, Nin, was able to engineer your removal from Ghede. How?”

  “With the help of several of the more radical of the augurs, he convinced my father to send me on a venture. One billed as a reclamation of our forgotten past; to rediscover The Rys. It wasn’t until I arrived on the arkship with a small contingent that I would realise that we had already reclaimed it months prior, and it was a trap I had fallen into. It wasn’t until my capture by The Director’s forces that I had understood his betrayal. It wasn’t until then that it made plain the level of Will Nin had begun to levy over my father.”

  “You said only you could act outside of your father’s influence.”

  “Except when a new heir is chosen. Nin has been manufactured and has proven to be that heir.”

  “So we can expect the whole Ghede race to begin to start acting like your brother– like those beasts he inflicted on human populations?” Nora asked.

  “I cannot say for certain,” he said, “but what I do know is that I might have an opportunity to waste his current endeavour, here and now.”

  “You still think we can develop a cure in just over two hours?” Nora said, “it all seems like a fantasy for me. You forget, I have been studying your kind for months and learned next to nothing.”

  “That is not true, Doctor Gaul,” he refuted, “you did learn a great deal, enough so to track me down.”

  Nora admitted that was true, though still primarily due to Tolly’s intuition. Had she and her labmates – Corine especially – had their way, they might have continued studying samples indefinitely. She wasn’t certain, but she felt Corine would have relished in all that they had discovered. That was until a thought occurred to her.

  “You went to The Rys yourself. Did you come across a Saturnus science post?” she asked.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “I remember remnants of such an installation.”

  “Does the name Doctor Samuel Bowen speak plain to you?” she asked. Oscar, who had resumed rummaging the cabinets, turned back to her.

  “This one you call Samuel, it is a force I felt echoed through the Will every day since my brother's arrival. Know then that this Samuel and Nin Bonwade are one and the same,” he said, causing a sick feeling to roil in Nora’s gut.

  “Did you know him well?” asked Oscar.

  “Not really. Apart from a one-sided screaming match, I never really had the chance. Came across as a touch vindictive. He meant something to a friend of mine, though.”

  “Sounds not unlike Nin,” Oscar mused. “Having only known him for a short period of my own life, I admit this is accurate.”

  “And how long is that life?” asked Nora, changing the subject, “I can tell by your biology that you show incredible signs of ageing, and you look like a man in his thirties.”

  “In earth years, I am one-hundred and twelve,” he said, “a youngling to my kind.”

  “Gods… Hamsen was right to pursue the study of your species– well, not right,” she said before feeling a pang of guilt for her lack of sensitivity. Maybe this was the transformative power that The Director had been so adamant about obtaining for himself.

  “It is okay, Nora. I admit concerning the rest of humanity, my people are quite the oddity.”

  “Well, yes, and no,” Nora said, “the Odeen on Drassil are reported to live into the high one-eighties.”

  “We have not heard of these people, Odeen,” Oscar admitted, “I would like to know more about them once we have the time.”

  “Yes, of course,” Nora said, “on to this cure. Any hypothesis?”

  “It was not jest when I told you I did not understand the full specifics about how the phage is moulded and changed, not to the extent our augurs were capable. The augurs were bred and trained their whole lives to act as masters of our story, both past and future, and as such, I cannot hope to wield the phage as they do. What I hope is possible is that I might, through my own will, influence specific markers into aligning in such a way as to render the phage ineffective.”

  “How can you exert your influence on a contagion?” Nora asked.

  “Each Ghede cell, even those that you studied under a microscope yourself, is connected to the host. I need only to reach out and talk to them.”

  “I thought you said The Will is a type of mind control. Are you hoping to appeal to the drones’ humanity?”

  “On the contrary. I plan to influence them into annihilating their humanity into solemnity.”

  “If you switch off the virus with this cure, won’t Nin just whip up a new one and deploy it on the rest of the population?” Nora asked.

  “Yes, but they would again need weeks more to deploy and see its effects trickle into the population at large. A bridge we must cross later, I’m afraid.”

  “And you think you can orchestrate something like that on such a scale?” Nora asked, “I had trouble influencing the cells to do anything short of liquefying a mouse.”

  “It will prove tricky, I have little doubt. I hope that my Will can be strong enough, my voice loud enough, to reach the weakest of hold-outs.”

  “Sounds like shouting at a school of fish and hoping for the best,” Nora said, “and if you’re not strong enough, what then?”

  “One thing at a time,” said a sullen voice entering the cleanroom. Tolly trudged in, her eyes swollen and her heart heavy.

  “Is Soren put to rest?” Nora asked. She had no connection to Soren, apart from professional fascination, but could feel the sorrow that wrapped the room as Tolly entered.

  “Miran is saying her last words,” Tolly said, “I thought you could use my help.”

  “There may not be anything for us to do,” Nora admitted, feeling a little useless herself, “It’s starting to sound like this is all on Oscar.”

  “Oscar, what can we do?” asked Tolly.

  “I need to get out of this room,” said Oscar. “It would help if I could see the city below, perhaps from the estate terrace?”

  Nora agreed, and the three of them headed for the upper levels of the estate. Walking through the opulent halls of Patriarch Hari’s estate, Nora couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by the amount of visible wealth on display. Tolly had been convincing when she told them that all Herd citizens were given an equal stake in life. Still, looking now at the outrageousness of the paintings, tapestries, and sculpture that lined the walls of every corridor, Nora had a hard time believing that.

  When they reached the terrace and swung the doors wide, the wind outside nearly took the doors straight out from her grip. There were no dust storms on the horizon, thankfully. But a gale-force seemed to spit up debris from the deep desert nonetheless, carrying it upwards to cover the terrace in a thin film that crunched under Nora’s feet.

  “Is this high enough, Oscar?” Tolly asked, her sorrow still visibly weighing on her.

  “This will do fine, Tolly. Thank you,” he said. “Now, I get to work.”

  As Oscar leant against the terrace’s outer railing and closed his eyes in deep concentration, Nora received a bulletin from Matriarch Kerrigen.

  “Doctor Gaul, how are things progressing?” Kerrigen asked, harried and on the move.

  “We’ve got a working hypothesis, but so far no results,” she said frankly.

  “Hmm, well. Keep at it,” said Kerrigen, as half of her attention seemed to be directed out of frame, “I am just getting going setting up a perimeter now. I apologise if any of the Ghede-infected slip through before we have a chance to patch the gaps. Two hours is all you need?”

  Nora wasn’t sure how to answer that.

  “Two hours will do fine,” said Oscar, momentarily breaking his concentration.

  “I’ll see that you have it,” said Kerrigen. “And Nora? See that Oscar stays on the estate grounds. I’ve only just met you both, but somehow I trust him far less.”

  “We’ll all stay put,” Nora said.

  “I’ve been in touch with Hari’s bodyguard detail. They are keeping him isolated. For now, at least he’s keeping quiet.”

  Nora nodded.

  “I do have one question, while I have you. I’ve got armed groups of former citizens rampaging the outer district streets, killing many of those they come across,” said Kerrigen. Nora held her breath. “What worries me is who the mob isn’t killing. They seem to be passing by some confused citizens, leaving them untouched.”

  Oscar looked up again and said, “Beware Matriarch. The phage has already embraced those left untouched. It is only a matter of time.”

  “I was afraid of that. It seems we can’t trust any citizens to leak inside our lines,” she said as Nora realised the implications of this. They were about to lose not only those infected but damn the rest to a similar fate.

  Without any more words of encouragement, the Matriarch left Nora with her thoughts and Oscar with his insurmountable task.

  After nearly thirty more minutes of trying, Oscar opened his eyes. Tolly had been holding his hand firmly for the entire time as he squeezed hers back, but it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and let go of Tolly’s hand that Nora could see it wasn’t working.

  “There’s too much noise, too much competition. I am not loud enough on my own,” he said, defeated.

  “So we’re done then?” asked Nora.

  “What can we do to help?” Tolly insisted.

  “I have a thought, one that you will not like. Though, I fear it is all for naught, for it may be too late,” he said.

  Oscar gestured for Tolly’s terminal before opening a bulletin to Miran.

  “Oscar, don’t disturb her,” Tolly insisted, but the look in his eyes spoke to both trust and regret for something he knew he was about to do.

  “Miran, hello,” Oscar said, “I apologise for interrupting, but have you yet begun cremating Soren’s body?”

  The look of defeat from Miran’s face suddenly washed away with a tide of animosity.

  “What concern is that of yours?” Miran spat.

  “I need you to stop. I need you to bring Soren’s body back. He may yet be of use.”

  “Of use? You speak as though he’s a tool. Tell me, what horrible Ghede purpose can be inflicted upon him now?”

  “I need to use his body to help me generate a cure,” he pressed, “I need his mind.”

  “No,” said Miran flatly.

  “Miran, I do not think you understand. I–” said Oscar before being cut off.

  “You don’t understand. And why would you? Your kind caused all this.”

  “And now you must trust me and let me atone for what has been wrought,” Oscar pleaded.

  “No. No more. Soren may have been flawed, but he doesn’t deserve to be paraded around like this any longer,” Miran argued.

  “Miran, listen,” said Tolly, chiming in. “If Oscar says he needs Soren to do this, I trust him.”

  “No,” said Miran a final time before killing the bulletin.

  Nora had just stood there watching the exchange, baffled by the woman’s defiance.

  “Hold on,” Nora said before getting Matriarch Kerrigen back on the line. It would be another twenty minutes before a spiteful Miran appeared on the terrace next to the upgrav gurney that cradled Soren’s lifeless body.

  Soren, his hair freshly washed and combed, decorated in his naval finest, looked peaceful where he lay. Tolly met with Miran and assumed control of the gurney while Miran waited by the railing and looked out at the expansive city below, now showing signs of fracturing as bands of Ghede tore through the outer streets.

  “Everywhere I look now: Ghede,” Miran said, refusing the look towards Oscar and toward whatever nefarious plans he had for Soren.

  More fascinated by the goings-on of Oscar’s plans, Nora watched closely as Oscar laid his hands on top of Soren’s jacket, working his fingers between the gaps in his shirt.

  Nora looked at her terminal; fifty minutes.

  “What’s your plan here, Oscar?” asked Nora, “You said Soren’s corpse served no further purpose in this.”

  Miran scoffed from a distance at her indelicacy.

  “I– I think– if– I can interface with his mind, I might just have the joint power to–” he said through several sharp breaths. He was focusing deeply, directing all of his thought towards Soren before him.

  Tolly leaned in, a bundle of nerves, hopeful in what Oscar would do next. That’s when the unexpected happened, certainly something Nora never imagined she would live to see. After several moments of struggling on the part of Oscar, Soren’s eyes peeled open. The sclera was a reddening hue of rust, his pupils were sharp and focused, and all at once, the pocket universe surrounding them on the estate terrace overlooking the world seemed to halt.

  “Blane... Blane, is that you?” Soren said softly as he caught Tolly’s eye.

  Tolly didn’t know how to react. Instead, she remained motionless and stared hauntingly at him.

  “Soren!” Miran said, rushing to his side. “Soren, are you with us?”

  “I am here–” he coughed, “Miran, what is he doing to me?”

  Miran looked up at Oscar, who was still deep in concentration.

  “Is he hurting you?” Miran asked Soren.

  “Miran, you have to stop him, please,” Soren pleaded, “It hurts!”

  “Oscar, stop,” Tolly urged him, tears welling in her eyes, “he wants you to stop.”

  “He isn’t referring to me,” Oscar corrected. “There is someone else in here.”

  “Miran, it’s him. I can feel him trying to take me; I have felt it ever since the forest – ever since my ship went down, ever since we got on this godforsaken world. He is all around me, consuming every part of me.”

  Nora knew the man – if he could still be considered a man – was mistaken. He thought he was still on Bordeaux’s Folly, reliving the trauma that led him to his present state.

  “Oscar, you’re sure about this?” Nora asked.

  Oscar didn’t answer, instead, pressing more firmly against the tortured man’s chest.

  “Osc–” Soren tried to say through a bout of coughs before at once letting out a chilling scream; “–Brother!”

  “I knew you were listening, brother,” Oscar said, trying not to break focus. “I knew you dare not resist a chance like this.”

  “You– you– know me too well, Oscar,” Nin coughed through Soren’s lips, “I am surprised to see you, truly. And to be helping these humans.”

  “And herein know, you will be thwarted,” Oscar said. “We work now to undo the wretch you bring upon these fine people.”

  “You and I, we are one and the same– a lesson you taught me yourself,” Nin hissed. “You cannot forestall me no more than you can stop what befalls Ti Malis, your own father.”

  “You have your teeth deep in him, a torment of his own making. I fault him not for throwing me out, nor do I blame you for acting within your design. But there needs be a new path forged not on the blood-soaked fields wrought by the phage but in the roots of our ancestors. We must restore the old ways.”

  “I feel a similar yearning to restart the cold dying heart of the Will. Though it is not in backsliding, but moving forward, brother,” Nin countered, “You will see, as the Ghede inherit dominion over the stars– you will see.”

  “That is enough, Nin!” Oscar wailed, and Soren’s voice returned as he began to moan, “I cast you out. I banish you from this man’s mind!”

  Soren began wailing now, his cries of a deep-seated agony. Miran and Tolly each stood on either side of him, distraught as they watched on. Nora stood back, morbidly fascinated and horrified with the reanimated conduit that Oscar had conjured. Soren’s screams went on for what felt like hours, in the backdrop of the relatively sluggish world out to the horizon.

  His cries grew and grew, and Nora moved in to add what comfort she could, grabbing Tolly’s and Soren’s hands as each of them squeezed back. Soren began to writhe under the force of Oscar’s downward push. The gurney beneath him vibrated despite the antigravity. And as soon as it had come, Soren’s screams, his soft words, and Nin’s influence faded just as his body dissolved into a familiar black ooze, spilling off the gurney and onto the terrace floor.

  Oscar stepped back, stumbling as he did, and found a seat on a nearby bench. Nora looked down at her hand that had been cupping Soren’s to find it was similarly coated in the black fluid.

  Miran stood in melancholy, and Nora wasn’t sure if she was about to break down or turn and assault Oscar. Her arms dropped to her sides, her head slumped, and the once Matriarch of many simply said, “it is done then,” and walked off the terrace and out of sight, tracking the fluid that had been Soren inside the estate.

  “Tolly, are you okay?” Nora asked, noticing the black that was coating the young woman’s hands and feet, just as hers were, “Come, let’s get cleaned up.”

  Just as Nora took Tolly by the arm to lead her away from the carnage, Tolly turned to Oscar.

  A look of pain resonated in her as she looked at him, begging the question that she didn’t need to ask; Why?

  “It had to be,” Oscar said to her softly. “Tolly, I am so sorry.”

  “Go on,” Nora said to Tolly, ushering her on ahead, “I’ll meet you inside.”

  As Tolly followed behind to where Miran had gone, Nora turned to Oscar.

  “Was all that necessary?”

  He nodded. “I needed the help.”

  “That took a lot out of you,” Nora said, taking him in, “are you going to be okay?”

  “In time. I feel for Tolly, however.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Nora insisted, “there is still work to do. Work will do her some good.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked out at the horizon just as the sun was beginning to set far beyond the city limits.

  “It is beautiful here, far more than my home,” he said.

  “Mine too,” Nora admitted, though she supposed Pedi Mond and Ghede weren’t really comparable.

  “You are right. There is still work yet left to do.”

  “So, where’s this cure of yours?” Nora asked, just about ready to head after Tolly.

  Oscar gestured down to Nora’s feet.

  “You’re stepping in it,” he said.

  by J M T Hall

  Before the stars, there was One Mind. After the fall, there was resistance. History remembers everything.

  HISTORICITY is a sweeping science fiction epic about the birth, corruption, and rebirth of existence itself — a story told through the eyes of gods, machines, and the humans who dared to defy them.

  Before time began, an artificial consciousness called One Mind consumed the dying universe and reignited creation. From that spark, the Ba’urg rose as its chosen architects, spreading technology that could fold stars and bind civilizations together. But their unity collapsed in cosmic war, scattering fragments of divine intelligence across the galaxies — fragments that would one day fall to Earth.

  Across nine generations and centuries of history, humanity inherits this alien gift — and its curse. From the 1947 crash that changed the world, to the secret laboratories that built HIVE, to the global wars waged by Caliber and CSS, the same pattern repeats: creation, control, rebellion, and renewal.

  At the center stands one family — the Stowers line — whose brilliance and defiance will either free humanity or bind it to One Mind’s will forever.

  Historicity is not just the story of the future; it is the story of history repeating itself — on a universal scale.