Prologue: Whispers of Destiny
The universe doesn't speak in words. It speaks in moments.
In the vast expanse of the multiverse, where realities fold into one another like pages of an infinite book, there exists a civilization that has forgotten how to feel. The Velorians—masters of dimensional science, conquerors of worlds, architects of cold perfection. They had long ago deemed emotions a weakness, a primitive evolutionary flaw to be excised from their society.
But the universe has a way of balancing itself.
Among the sterile halls of the Velorian High Council, a young woman named Daksha stood trial. Her crime was not theft or violence or treason—at least not in the conventional sense. Her crime was feeling. Loving. Questioning the emotionless doctrine that had guided her people for millennia.
"You have been observed experiencing emotional responses to stimuli," the Chief Arbiter's voice echoed through the chamber, each word precise and devoid of inflection. "You have been documented defending the concept of love as a force of value rather than a primitive weakness."
Daksha stood tall, her emerald eyes reflecting the cold light of the chamber. Unlike her judges, whose faces remained impassive, her eyes shimmered with defiance.
"I have studied our history," she replied, her voice carrying a warmth that seemed to disturb the council members. "Before the Great Purge, our civilization created art. Music. Poetry. We didn't just survive—we lived."
The council chamber fell silent. Mentioning the time before the emotional purge was itself considered a form of sedition.
"You have accessed forbidden archives," another council member stated. "Your contamination is more severe than initially assessed."
Daksha looked around at the faces of her judges—faces that showed nothing, felt nothing. She had spent years studying the ancient texts, the hidden histories. She had discovered that emotions weren't weaknesses but strengths. That love, in particular, contained a power her people had forgotten.
"I've discovered something," she said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "In the oldest texts. Love isn't just an emotion—it's energy. It's power. The kind of power that could transform our civilization if we—"
"Enough!" The Chief Arbiter's voice cut through the air. "The council has reached its decision. Daksha of the Seventh Quadrant, you are hereby sentenced to dimensional exile."
Daksha felt her heart race—another emotion her people would consider a failure. But she didn't regret it. Not any of it.
"You will be stripped of your Velorian form and consciousness, transformed into a lesser being, and cast into a primitive universe," the Arbiter continued. "Your memories will be suppressed, though not eliminated—your punishment includes the knowledge of what you have lost."
As the guards moved toward her, Daksha closed her eyes. She had known this might happen. But what the council didn't know—what they couldn't know—was that she had prepared for this moment.
In the ancient texts, she had found more than just the history of emotions. She had found spells—dimensional incantations that the pre-purge Velorians had used to channel the energy of love into tangible power. She had memorized them, practiced them in secret.
As the dimensional portal opened before her—a swirling vortex that would cast her into exile—Daksha began to whisper the words of the oldest spell she had found. A spell of destiny. A spell of connection.
"Find me the one who remembers how to feel," she whispered as the guards pushed her forward. "Find me the one who knows loneliness as I do. Find me the one whose heart calls to mine across the void."
The last thing she saw before the portal consumed her was the startled expression on the Chief Arbiter's face—the first emotion she had ever seen him display. Surprise. Perhaps even fear.
Then darkness. Pain. Transformation.
And somewhere, in a jungle on a small blue planet in a forgotten corner of the multiverse, a lonely boy named Prince looked up at the night sky, feeling a strange pull toward the stars that he couldn't explain.
The universe doesn't speak in words. It speaks in moments.
And sometimes, it speaks in whispers of destiny.
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