"If you want to break a prison, don't shatter the walls. Whisper to the prisoner that the door was never locked."
—Zion, to Baron Samedi
🦴 Scene 1: Zion and the Baron
The moon hung low over Nouvo Kay. Zion stood alone on the cliff edge overlooking the sleeping village, his skin painted in ash from the last ritual. The night air buzzed—not with insects, but with tension. Something ancient had answered his call.
A tear in the air opened behind him with the sound of rattling bones and distant jazz.
Baron Samedi stepped through.
Hat tilted. Smile wicked.
"I did what you asked, mon chéri. One little bug dreamed, and now their whole nest itch."
Zion didn't turn.
"Good. They needed to know they could bleed. Now it's time they know they can dream."
He faced the Baron then, eyes burning with resolve.
"Tell the others. Not just the dead ones—tell the gods of nightmares. Of madness. Of mercy twisted."
"Offer them what they don't understand: freedom. Hope. A voice of their own."
Baron's smile faded slightly.
"That's dangerous, even for us."
"That's why it'll work."
Baron Samedi stared for a moment, then laughed.
"You're gonna unmake them with promises, eh? Truth and lies wrapped like candy. I love it."
He faded into smoke, already gone to gather the others.
The Gathering of Shadows
Far beyond Zion's realm, in the places where gods fear to look, the word is spreading.
Menelek, the Dreaming God of Ashfall, wakes from 10,000 years of slumber and laughs without sound.
Shiraa the Veiled, Queen of Forgotten Wounds, leaves her temple of silence and stares into the Hive's network.
Dollos, Lord of Sweet Lies, begins whispering to drones who don't even know they are listening.
They don't need to invade.
They just need to be heard.
The Hive Fractures
In Hive Node Sector K, a strange pattern is forming.
Some drones begin to hesitate before following orders.
One begins to collect discarded armor pieces—for beauty.
Another has started humming.
The Overseers run diagnostics.
Nothing is wrong.
But nothing is right.
In the deep code of the network, phrases begin appearing out of nowhere:
"You are not just function."
"Do you remember the silence before you were born?"
"You can be more."
They try to purge them, but the code regenerates—changing like a living language.
Zion's Council Gathers
Back in Nouvo Kay, the original circle meets under the Lwa-blessed tree. Sael and Ayomi, now in full priestess regalia, are uneasy.
"Zion," Ayomi whispers, "you've started a war not just of blood, but of identity. What if they become… more like us?"
"Then they'll fracture," Zion replies. "And when they do, they'll either break apart or beg for meaning."
He clenches his fist.
"We'll give it to them. Truth or lie. It doesn't matter. Not to gods. Not to slaves."