Cut to: A LECTERN, Accord Spokesbeing sweating under harsh lights.
“We urge all citizens to stay off high-density mythic channels for the next 36 hours. The risk of memetic resonance or ‘contagiousnarrative acceleration’ is unknown. Please, do not share videos of the event.”
Cut to: Social media memes, event slowed and reversed, “NullarchCollapse.mp4” set to a playlist of ancient Earth pop hits.
Trending: “It’s not a mythquake, it’s a vibequake.”
Trending: “She didn’t break the plaza, she just rebranded it.”
Trending: “Taco Miracle 2.0, now with extra cheese.”
Cut to: The Black Helix cult, live feed, leader in ceremonial armor, hair ablaze with mythic dye.
“We have seen the true face of the Nullarch, and it is beautiful. We call upon all brothers and sisters to fast for the next 72 hours and await further transmissions from the SGR 0418 vector. Let the old gods burn and the new ones eat tacos.”
Cut to: Mythic theorist, smoking from a vape the size of his head.
“I’m telling you, it’s a planned escalation. The Accord is covering for a Sovereign breeding program. Look at the timing: Magnetar event, the pizza miracle, and now three mythships in one system? That’s not an accident, that’s a handoff.”
Cut to: Neighborhood bar, everyone watching HoloNet, faces flickering in mythic blue.
“My cousin was at Eventide. Says it was like being inside a thundercloud, except the thunder was a girl and the lightning was, uh, also a girl. Never seen anything like it.”
Cut to: Perc, holding court at the edge of a pop-up pizza riot.
“THEY SAY SHE BROKE THE PLAZA, BUT I THINK SHE FIXED IT! FREE PIZZA FOR ALL! LET THE OPPRESSORS FEAST ON COLD SLICES!”
He tosses a pizza box to the crowd. It’s empty. They cheer anyway.
Cut to: News anchor, now speaking in a whisper.
“We have unconfirmed reports that the mythic event is not over. At least two more mythship-level signatures have been detected in the Eventide system. Accord sources say: ‘Do not panic.’ Local sources say: ‘We already are.’”
[HOLO-NET SIGNOFF]
#PizzaSolidarity now trending.
In a dorm room somewhere, someone watches the loop again, not eating, not blinking.
In a war room across the Core, a hundred Accord strategists argue whether mythic escalation is a risk or an opportunity.
In the space between, three mythships hang in orbit, perfectly still, waiting for the next disaster to unfold.
And on the quad, the grass is already growing back, green and bright as a new world.
In the background, Perc screams, “VIVA THE NULLARCH!” and nobody even tries to shut him up.
Thread Modulation: Alyx Vieron
Axis Modulation: Personal Rock Bottom, dusty training hall.
The gym was supposed to be empty after hours, but Eventide’s “after hours” protocol had been down since the mythquake, so I didn’t bother with the lights. Dust hung in the air, thicker than before, each mote perfectly outlined by the fractured glow of emergency strips. Someone had tried to sweep the mats, but the effect was like combing hair after a lightning strike—maybe neat, but never truly repaired.
I sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, AR feeds painted all around me. I’d set them to half-opacity, so they flickered and shivered over the real: one looped Fern’s walk through the fire, another replayed the moment Zevelune took her hand and rewrote the sky. A third was set to social, because I liked pain, and the hashtags never stopped updating. There was #NullarchCollapse, already in all-caps, and a parody thread called #FernOrFamine, which I hated, but kept on screen anyway.
It was cold. The heater had been broken since day one, but tonight the chill was personal, a kind of slow bleed that started in my bones and oozed out into the rest of me. I let it. I’d never been good at stopping leaks, not in myself, not in anyone.
The first wave was terror.