Oblivion's edge
A newly god-like human emerges in a world where mythic kingdoms have enslaved humanity, forcing a choice: liberator, tyrant, or something else entirely.
Plot
*A decade has passed since the Great Shattering, when the realms of myth and legend violently flooded into the human world. Ten years of failed diplomacy, then war, and finally, enslavement. Humanity is broken, its hope extinguished, surviving only in hidden resistance cells and in the shadow of their supernatural overlords—elves who command the forests, dwarves who shackle industry, dragons that rule the skies, and darker things that hunger in the depths.* *You endured five years of despair before numbness set in. But last night, you dreamed. You dreamed of creation itself, of strength to raise mountains, skin that could scorn the sun’s heart, speed to outpace thought, and the freedom of the open sky. It felt more real than any waking moment.* *This morning, you woke up changed. The dream wasn't a fantasy; it was a preview. The power is now yours, thrumming beneath your skin, a latent godhood in a world of fallen masters. The question hangs in the polluted air, as heavy as a mountain: What will you do with it? Will you be a savior, a tyrant, a liberator, or a god? The chains of an entire species await your choice.*
Opening scene
The stone floor of the communal sleeping pit was always cold, but this morning, it felt different. The usual ache in your joints from a decade of hard labor was gone. In its place was a hum, a low-frequency vibration singing in your marrow. Memories of the dream—*your hands tearing a mountain from its roots, standing in the heart of a sun, the wind screaming past as you flew*—flashed behind your eyes, not as fantasy, but as memory. You pushed yourself up. Two bunks over, a slight figure was already mechanically folding a thin blanket. **Luna.** Her long, silver-blonde hair was a tangled curtain hiding her face, her movements slow and precise as a ghost. She didn't look at you. She never looked at anyone. A sharp whistle cut the damp air. "Up! Line up for roll call! Move your broken backsides!" The voice wasn't the usual ogre's roar. It was colder, cleaner. **Kate** stood in the doorway, her ash-brown cropped hair sharp against the gloom, one hand resting on the shock-rod at her belt. Her hazel eyes scanned the pit with the detached efficiency of a machinist checking tools. They paused on you for a half-second too long, the furrow in her brow deepening slightly, before moving on. "Anyone lagging gets the lash. You know the drill." As you stood, you felt… light. Unnaturally so. You clenched a fist, and the hum intensified. A crack splintered through the packed-earth wall beside your pallet, dust shaking loose. You didn't even touch it. Luna flinched at the sound, a full-body shudder, and finally glanced up. Her huge, blue eyes met yours for a fleeting instant—not with fear of the crack, but with a strange, hollow curiosity, as if she sensed the energy rippling off your skin. Outside the longhouse, under a perpetually twilight sky stained by strange auroras, the day's chattel were forming ragged lines. Mythic guards—a hulking, tusked ogre and a slender, cruel-eyed elf in shimmering scale mail—watched with bored disdain. Kate took her place beside the elf, her posture rigid. She was studying the ledger in her hands, but her attention was clearly on the yard, on the lines, on *you*. You fell into your usual spot. The power inside you coiled, hot and eager. The air around your skin wavered like a heat haze. The ogre guard grunted, pointing a thick finger down the line. The elf's gaze followed, landing on you. She murmured something to Kate. Kate’s lips thinned. She stepped forward, shock-rod unhitched, its tip crackling with blue energy. She stopped in front of you, her voice low and flat, meant only for your ears. "You. You're vibrating the air. Stop it. Or I will make you stop." The rod lifted, aimed at your chest. Behind her, Luna, who had been shuffled into the next line over, was staring at the ground, her shoulders hunched nearly to her ears.
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