Chapter 8: The First Rule

With each step, Estelle’s footfalls echoed through the silent corridor, her pace quickening as she advanced. Her eyes darted from ground to ceiling, absorbing in every detail as she passed the curved niches in the wall. Each display held floating articles—memories suspended between creator and creation, scenes she had meticulously crafted through countless hours at her desk. What had once been mere pixels and text on her monitor now existed in breathtaking reality. Some pieces were unfamiliar, but most carried the weight of significant historical moments from the world she had shaped. She longed to linger, to memorize every detail, but her throat burned with thirst and her temples throbbed mercilessly.

Each time she paused before her creations, her mind screamed for movement, even as her heart begged to stay. The need to examine each piece more closely remained an exquisite torture; she could almost taste the designs on her tongue, her eyes stinging as she forced herself to move on. No ultrawide HD monitor could have prepared her for this—seeing her work with mortal eyes transcended mere pixel displays. The plastic models she had crafted in the previous world now seemed like child's toys in comparison.

Something felt oddly discordant, though. These articles didn't align with what she had expected from beings like the Architects. Her attention caught on the first exchange gift between the native gods and their alien visitors: an ancient scroll, its parchment aged to amber, bound with a red ribbon whose golden embroidery traced elaborate patterns along its border. Estelle's heart thundered as she froze in place. This scroll—the First Rule—had granted the Architects existence within the world's natural laws, irrevocably altering the course of history.

Estelle swallowed against her parched throat, her body's immediate needs making themselves known again. She ignored them, drawing a deep breath as she approached the First Rule. "I never updated this part of the map," she muttered, her chapped lips barely moving. "I had no idea what to place in these displays, so I just used random assets representing the Architects and Native gods." What she'd initially feared would disappoint her now held her transfixed, though the verdant glow filling the display niggled at her designer's instincts. The green light cast an unnecessary tint over the scroll—she should have kept it white or used phantom lighting instead.

As she neared, something caught her eye: a ledge protruding from the base of the niche. Her gaze settled on its black, glassy surface—a sleek panel roughly five inches wide and ten inches long . Her eyebrows rose at its familiarity. “A terminal?”

As her fingers brushed the black surface, it awakened to her touch. A green rhombus materialized in its center, then exploded into hundreds of geometric shapes that danced across the empty canvas. Beams of emerald light shot upward, coalescing into a holographic display that flickered to life like a futuristic placard:

[THE FIRST RULE

Expeditionary Campaign post 534, Architect NEP^3.

-A physical manifestation created by native god Navaris, granting the Architect domain over Realm Sarfasis. Read more…]

‘So, I was right,’ Estelle remarked to herself. Her fingers hovering near the display. ‘How could I forget this? The most important item of that era that was referenced so many times—the pivotal moment between the Architect and the Native gods.’

She studied the scroll floating in its verdant light. The First Rule seemed underwhelming—physically, at least. Surely there were better ways to represent such a fundamental Law, something grander to match the weight of its existence. Not this fragile scroll that looked as if a stray breeze might shatter it—though she knew it wouldn't. Her brow furrowed as she considered alternatives: a colossal sphere hundreds of feet across, perhaps, or a statue of the Native gods themselves. Her mind churned with possibilities, each more otherworldly than the last, but none aligned with the elements already woven into her world. Beyond that, they felt utterly unoriginal—predictable solutions to an unprecedented challenge.

A sigh escaped her lips. "I could have done better than this," she whispered, her words trailing into silent reflection. 'The First Rule is the Architects' lifeline in this realm. Without it, they would fade from existence the longer they remained in this world.'

Estelle turned her head, scanning the nearby niches, but couldn’t find what she sought. ‘That’s odd,’ she mused. ‘Did I place it somewhere else? The Control Center, maybe… Yes, that would make more sense.’

Her boots tapped against the solid ground as Estelle continued forward, each step echoing through the silence like its own ambient track. The thought of music nagged at her—she had commissioned numerous composers to create fitting atmospheres for this space, pieces she had listened to countless times through her headphones or computer speakers at her desk. An ambience would have made this already profound atmosphere even more remarkable.

As she paced down the corridor, her eyes shifted from display to display, until she found herself at the hall's end. Massive frame-like pillars bounded the path ahead, towering skyward to form an elegant arch. There, suspended further in space, floated a spherical object that made her breath catch—the Nous Crux Pattern.

It pulsed with brilliant blue light, occasionally sinuous with misty white and green that coursed across its surface. The colors merged and flowed like liquid in a sophisticated 3D render, each border birthing new shades of the same ethereal emerald glow. Estelle's mind went blank as she stared at the core component present in every Architect's base structure. Whether small, medium, or large, almost every base housed a Nous Crux variant. Her body weakened, and she steadied herself against the massive arching frame as her heart pounded in her chest.

She stood transfixed, all words failing her. No combination of adjectives could capture the majesty before her, no description could do justice to the reality of what she had created. Estelle drew in a deep breath, and a single word escaped her lips: "Woah."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Estelle stepped into the Trigon Sphere hall, each footfall making her heart throb harder. Relentless waves of sensation rippled across her skin, raising every hair on her body as her breath grew shallow. Before her, the floor extended outward like an observation deck. Unlike her previous world, there were no handrails—a design choice fitting for the Architects. Massive pillars rose from the ground floor, piercing through several levels before reaching the ceiling, seemingly encasing the Nous Crux pattern at the center of the hall. Waves of green light pulsed along their length, descending in perfect synchronization.

She hurried forward, careful to note where the floor ended abruptly. The pathway floor hugged the pillar’ curves, wrapping half-way around their massive circumference. She tried to swallow, but a painful ache spread from her tongue down into her lungs as if she had accidentally devoured a long needle. Her fingers instinctively wrapped around her throat, trying to ease the discomfort. Eyes twitching, Estelle pressed onward, her free hand reaching for the nearest pillar for support.

Without warning, a thin filament sprang into view—a curtain of green light hanging motionless in the air. Her gaze followed its stream to where it emerged from an opening in the ground floor. Her eyebrows rose as recognition dawned, drawing a sharp intake of breath. "Right... oh, that's right!" she whispered. "It's another terminal—a filamentary terminal screen!"

Spinning on her heel, Estelle rounded the pillar within its casting shadows. She quickly passed to the left of where she had entered, her attention immediately drawn to the Nous Crux Pattern's floating spherical shape, partially obscured by thin, transparent filaments. As she observed more carefully, she counted them silently—eight in total, surrounding the giant blue sphere.

The scene before her—everything she had crafted by hand, this amalgamation of different assets combined into one cohesive space—left her wordless. It was perfect, yet that word seemed insufficient to capture its essence. Despite the wonder filling her mind, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

Her footsteps pierced the silence—the place was desolate. Far too desolate. While this emptiness made sense within context, Estelle couldn't help but imagine populating the lonely space with mechanical life: spider-like robots, spherical guidance entities, or automatic area denial drones patrolling the area. She inhaled the cold air with a raspy whine, experiencing a peculiar sense of déjà vu. She had contemplated this before, she was certain, but the conclusions she had reached then remained annoyingly out of reach.

Her eyes twitched at the sight of the observational platform before her—it ended abruptly, well short of the filamentary terminal. No connection, no bridge, not even enough reach for her to hunch forward and write commands on the screen. The new variants of Architects could easily float their heavy metallic bodies across this gap. But unlike them—she looked down at her outstretched hands—she was trapped in humanoid form that was the old variant of the Architect race, primarily biological in composition.

Unconsciously, she clenched her fists, numbness spreading up to her shoulders as a groan escaped her tight lips. "Fuck. If only... I..." Her voice, raspy and strained, faded into internal thoughts: 'If only I had made a new avatar, used one of the new Architect variants instead...'

Her gaze remained fixed on her hands until movement behind them caught her attention. Shifting focus, she noticed black fragments—cubes, spheres, and various geometric shapes—hovering animatedly below the platform's edge. Estelle blinked. "Oh... Is this...?"

An idea formed in her mind, but she hesitated to fully trust her understanding. Estelle slid one foot forward—the black fragments quickly responded, forming a pathway ahead. 'I certainly didn't make this... Or did I? Maybe during the old Architect variants' era, and I've forgotten about it... Maybe.'

She wasn't certain, and typically, she would have turned to her software to search for answers among the notes and comments. But her current position made such actions impossible. Unconsciously, she tried to swallow, but her body responded with rough, dry coughs that made her throat throb—dying coughs that reminded her of her desperate situation.

'Fuck... Water...' Estelle summoned her strength, willing her feet to move.

She kept a steady pace, eyes locked on the green filament screen ahead, deliberately ignoring the sides where the platform dropped to the bottom far below. Though aware that a fall from five stories might not kill her, she didn't want to imagine what such a drop would do to her already weakened body. If anything, she was increasingly aware of the fall on both sides. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she shook her head slightly, forcing her mind to focus on the path before her.

When she arrived, Estelle lifted her trembling fingers to the green filament. Following her earlier understanding, she pressed her left index finger to the corner, leaving trails of stark white light against the pale green backdrop. Confirming the interface responded as expected, she raised her right hand and began writing in the Language of the Architects: [Fresh water for safe biological consumption.]

She paused, her right hand hovering over to rub her chin. The symbol for the addon component eluded her parched mind, but her burning throat demanded action over perfection. She continued: [Fresh water for safe biological consumption. Store in a glass container, compatible with biological body-Estelle Nytelles.]

Her eyes flickered across the command, doubt gnawing at her consciousness. The syntax felt right—fresh water, biological compatibility, personal containment specifications—but in her current state, she couldn't trust her memory completely. Still, with relief so close, theoretical perfection seemed a distant concern.

Estelle withdrew her fingers from the display, watching as the written words stretched gossamer-thin before fading in color. A subtle nod escaped her as the command registered. 'It worked,' she thought, hope rising in her chest.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the Nous Crux Pattern pulsed—expanding like a cosmic heart before her eyes. A flash of movement caught her attention, and Estelle whirled to see the towering pillars beginning to change. Their solid forms dissolved, fragmenting into hundreds of geometric shapes that peeled away like metallic petals caught in gravitational force. They scattered to the sides, forming a shimmering corridor of suspended fragments—like the gates from before.

Through this newly formed passage, a stream of geometric forms emerged—blue, green, and white—abominably twitching across the air like an otherworldly spirit. They soared past her right shoulder, their light casting strange shadows across her face as they flowed toward the Nous Crux Pattern.

'Wait—' Estelle's thoughts stumbled as her eyes widened. She blinked, her jaw slackening in wonder. 'I didn't... I haven't made this.'

The geometric shapes spiraled into the Nous Crux Pattern, which responded with another pulse that sent ripples through the air. Misty white tendrils whirled around the sphere like solar prominence, while threads of green light wove through their borders in intricate patterns. Estelle watched, transfixed, as something began emerging from the Nous Crux Pattern's Surface—a form wrapped in white mist that drifted toward her with deliberate movement.

As it approached, the mist gradually thinned, and Estelle's blanked mind slowly registered what she was seeing—suspended within the swirling mist was a simple glass cup, filled with water.