Echoes of the Void

Synopsis

Part 1: Childhood Thalamos’s earliest memories were of the endless skies of Theia, a rogue planet adrift in the cold void of space. Unlike Earth, Theia had no sun to anchor it, only distant stars that glimmered faintly across an infinite night. Verlorenen lived under a dome of engineered light, an innovation designed to mimic the warmth and radiance of a star. But even in that brilliance, shadows lingered in the corners of Thalamos’s world. Born to a family of engineers and philosophers, Thalamos was a curious child. His father, Kaelos, was a towering figure in Verloren society—a visionary who had played a crucial role in creating the planet’s gravitational propulsion system. His mother, Seriya, was a healer, renowned for her empathy and insight. Together, they sought to guide Thalamos in the ways of their people: balance, reason, and the pursuit of harmony. Thalamos, however, had a fire within him. As a boy, he wandered the glowing caverns of Theia’s cities, his golden eyes wide with wonder. He devoured every story of their ancestors’ journey across the stars and dreamed of a time when Theia might find a home. His mother often found him in the archives, poring over ancient texts. “One day,” she told him, “you will help shape the future of our people.” But Theia’s future was already unraveling. The planet’s resources were dwindling, and tensions among its people grew. Thalamos, though still a child, could sense the unease in his father’s voice and the way his mother’s smile no longer reached her eyes. Theia was dying, and no one knew how to save it. Part 2: Family and Loss As Thalamos grew older, he took his place alongside his father in the control centers of Theia. He learned to manipulate the planet’s propulsion systems, guiding their world through the void with precision and care. Kaelos often spoke of hope—of a future where Theia would find a new home. But hope, Thalamos would learn, was fragile. The collapse began with overpopulation. Theia’s delicate systems were never meant to sustain so many lives, and as resources dwindled, the leaders of Theia made a desperate decision. They implemented a culling—an event that would forever scar Thalamos’s soul. Families were torn apart, communities decimated. Kaelos argued fiercely against the plan, but his voice was drowned out by the cries of desperation. The culling claimed Seriya’s life. Thalamos remembered the day vividly: the cold efficiency of the soldiers, the emptiness of their eyes as they dragged her away. He had begged his father to intervene, but Kaelos had only shaken his head, his expression a mask of sorrow. “This is the price of survival,” he had said. But for Thalamos, it was a betrayal. In the years that followed, Thalamos became withdrawn, his fire replaced by a cold resolve. He buried himself in his work, mastering the systems that kept Theia alive. He built the Nils—drones that could carry out tasks with precision and efficiency. He told himself it was for the good of his people, but deep down, he knew it was a way to quiet the storm within him. When his son was born, Thalamos saw a glimmer of light in the darkness. The boy, Eryon, had his mother’s eyes and his father’s inquisitive nature. Thalamos devoted himself to teaching Eryon, sharing the stories and dreams that had once inspired him. For a time, he felt whole again. But Theia’s destruction was inevitable. As the planet’s systems faltered, Kaelos and Thalamos worked tirelessly to stabilize it. They argued constantly—Kaelos clinging to hope, Thalamos urging drastic measures. It was during one of these arguments that the betrayal came. The Athyans, hidden within their hollow world, had offered Theia a chance at salvation. They had promised cooperation and refuge, but it was a lie. When the Athyans sabotaged Theia’s systems, the planet’s fate was sealed. As Theia hurtled toward Earth, Thalamos could only watch as everything he had fought for was destroyed. His father, his son, his people—all lost in the cataclysmic collision. Part 3: The Drive for Vengeance Thalamos awoke in the cold embrace of the Moon, the Nils’ systems having preserved him in stasis. He wandered the empty halls of the satellite, his grief and rage consuming him. The Moon was a hollow echo of Theia, a lifeless shell filled with fragments of his people’s ingenuity. It was a monument to their failure—and a weapon waiting to be unleashed.