The energy of disappointment haunted the hearts and streets of Oblivion and the Lunar Nation. The city billboards had already switched headlines: from "The Birth of the Great Aquaphoenix" to "The Non-Birth of the Aquaphoenix." The people's eyes, once sparkling with expectation, now looked dull, like murky water.
Too many strange things had happened in such little time, and the mystery only deepened as the days went by. Since the founding of Oblivion, the Oblivion Gazette had been delivered daily, free of charge, to every citizen, its purpose to connect the former inhabitants of Earth—now living in this subterranean city—with the rest of the solar system and even the galaxy.
As a bridge to the outside world, the newspaper bound Oblivion's citizens not only to the universe, but also to their future. So there was no need to explain the collective anxiety to read that day's edition.
On the day before, the legend of the Aquaphoenix might have come true. The people of Oblivion could have been closer than ever to seeing the Earth's surface once again. Instead, they were left with questions: the non-birth of the Aquaphoenix, the near-death and coma of Oblivion's Great Mage—one of the city's founders, charged with delivering the creature. Everything had gone too wrong. Wrong enough to feel unnatural, almost as if provoked by external forces.
The following morning, the sky was overcast, and thick fog blanketed the streets. The chimneys puffed at full force, while most of the population preferred to stay inside rather than walk the streets.
The city's sky and atmosphere had been artificially crafted, and that day it wore shades of lilac and aqua-blue. That sky had been built by mages from across the solar system, including Zygon, the city's Grand Master. Magical artifacts from all over the Milky Way had been gathered to mold an atmosphere mirroring the beauty of Earth's sky, yet tinged with mystery and wonder.
Depending on Earth's emotional state, the artificial sky changed in color and weather: if active and angry, it burned red like lava; if melancholic, it turned blue-gray; if peaceful and joyful, a sky-blue with soft white clouds. But on that day it glowed lilac, with clouds shifting from buttery hues to vibrant yellow. For despite the mourning over the non-birth of the creature of fortune, a new lunar cycle had begun—both for Oblivion and for the Earth within it.
The atmosphere's colors also influenced the brilliance cast by lunar and solar projectors, always adding a touch of life and expectation, regardless of the Milky Way's current state.
As the Great Mage Zygon often repeated: "What we call magic is nothing more than ancient science—too complex for reason to grasp, too lost in time to be remembered—that invites us to rediscover it once again."
And it had been immense magic that reconstructed Earth's atmosphere underground. Magic so ancient that even after ten thousand years, it was still called magic rather than science. Among the people spread a legend: that the ancient science of solar phoenixes had been used to shape this place, echoing Earth's Golden Age.
The lunar phase told its own story: it was the season of the New Moon, and would remain so for centuries to come. A new journey was beginning, a new way of living and experiencing the world around them. Only time could answer their questions.
After the Temple of the Sun's bell tolled twelve times, the full moon reflected in the city's artificial sky sank below the horizon, giving way to a quieter, more introspective moon—one that adorned the heavens with a gentle yet mysterious beauty.
The newspaper had just been delivered, from the city's aquatic district to the interdimensional ports linking Oblivion to Lunar City on the far side of the Moon. And it read:
Introduction
Greetings, citizens of Oblivion, of the Solhara System, and of the Milky Way.
Wherever you may be, I send this signal to strengthen your ties with the planet from which you came. The storm has quieted. The artificial moon still burns above us, though the great pools of water are drying. The cold wind carries droplets from the planet's aquatic mantle, a sign that Earth is still sad and sentimental, even as it struggles to rise and move forward.
At Ever-Rain Station, it has been raining since October fourteenth of the year 1119—a fact that shocks those fanatics who once believed the rumor that the Aquaphoenix's non-ascension would cause the rain, which had endured for millennia, to stop.
And now, to the headline everyone is waiting for: The Great Aquaphoenix and its Non-Ascension.
You are reading the Oblivion Gazette. I am Hippo-Carlos, your favorite aquatic horse.
Where Is the Aquaphoenix?
By Hippo-Carlos
Where is kept the fury of potential left unmanifested? Forces from the untold stories of a titan of colossal magnitude? It has been a week since the Great Aquaphoenix should have appeared. After thousands of years of gestation and formation, the creature—once a solar phoenix—was meant to complete its long cycle and finally bring to our people the light and fortune we so desperately need. Above all, progress for us, the people of Oblivion. The promise that one day we will return to Earth's surface and once more live with our human brothers.
But nothing happened when Zygon emerged, spat out by the geyser's waters and covered in stings from the water-bees. From his pale lips? No answers. And yet, something tells me that to begin something so immense, perfection is not required. What convinces you she will not rise? What drives you toward despair? Should we not trust this step as the beginning of something grand, instead of surrendering to paranoia simply because we do not understand what occurred?
The Regent of the Constellation of the Five Sisters of Dawn, "Reinaldo Borbolat," once said: we must first believe there is a way out, so that, by consequence, we may find it. This was one of the inscriptions carved at the founding of the subterranean city of Oblivion. And even if no longer visible today on the ground we walk upon, those words remain etched in the foundations of the collective mind of this city and of the people who inhabit it. It matters little whether you were born here, live here, or dwell far away. To all who found refuge and roots in this land, in this beautiful solar system called Solhara.
Whether now is the time to ascend and join her other four sisters, or not, we must strengthen our minds with this fact—with the original certainty of the eventual ascension of all that limits us in our daily lives.
The Gazette attempted to contact the great Magi: Zygon, Sofia, and Fofúlios, responsible for delivering the creature. The only answers came from the Great Sofia, who informed us that Mage Zygon remained in a deep sleep, poisoned by the Water-Stingers. The Bionic Magi confirmed to the population that the legend of the hives surrounding the Aquaphoenix's metamorphosis grounds was no children's tale, no invention to keep the curious away, but the purest truth.
Sofia explained that potions and antidotes brewed from scarab dung would likely prolong Zygon's drowsiness, yet keep him alive against the venom. When I asked if there was any prediction for when he would awaken, I was shocked to learn that the venom might take years—if not decades—to wear off. Still, the finest Magi and Moges from Venus's National Chapel would be sent to accompany him through this arduous process.
"No, we will not lose him," said Sofia, tears in her eyes.
At first, the Bear refused to speak to journalists. But after a risky venture in search of hive fragments spat out during the failed delivery, the Bear agreed to speak—only in exchange for Oblivion's royal honey.
Despite our suspicions, Bear Fofúlios could only explain that it made no sense, yet he had been searching for answers ever since he carried Zygon in his arms back to the ship.
"I understood there was a disruption at the moment of placing the agate stone in the phoenix's mouth—that I am certain of. For it was at that very moment she should have risen. That is the only thing that makes sense. Now, why exactly the Aquaphoenix might have rejected the agate stone? I have no idea."
These were Fofúlios's official words. Yet, in a quieter conversation with a friend among our team, the Bear opened up, releasing more crucial information. Fofúlios admitted, in tears, that it pained him not to say more, and that Sofia had forbidden him entirely from sharing the team's views, given that such an important member had been affected.
"I had been planning this since the fall of the City of the Sun. It may sound exaggerated, but truly—it has been a long time. Since I was a cub, I dreamed of delivering the Aquaphoenix, or at least being present in some way. They always told me its honey was the finest in the entire galaxy, and when someone says such a thing, I make it happen. From galaxy warrior to guardian of the City of Oblivion—every step has led me here today, alongside Sofia and Zygon. And yet, everything went down the drain. Literally."
He finished quickly—one of the galaxy's greatest aerial leaders—only to be interrupted by Sofia, who kindly dismissed the entire press team.
What is this new era of Oblivion, born of Earth's fall onto the stellar stage? United by Zygon, striving to bring unity and hope for Earth's ascension back into the galactic order. Yes, we could lose ourselves in objections about the future, certainly. Even be distracted by each new step this guardian people takes toward tomorrow.
But, if I may remind you with my good memory: once upon a time Earth was the greatest seat of justice and order. Creatures from every corner of the galaxy and beyond would venture there to experience gifts that only that planet could give. For those citizens who once lived upon the surface, this is a return home. For those who came later, it is a call toward their true destiny—where extraordinary realities can be reached.
And never forget: what is done in Venus, Mars, or Mercury reaches its perfection upon Earth. That power and that glory belong to you as well. I dare to say: welcome to a new era.
The Fury of the People and the Chaotic Evacuation of the City
By Lala, the Salamander
This text was written by me—your favorite journalist—without filters, without brakes. And I know you don't want to hear this, but only with me do you get the best of Oblivion and the Five Sisters in your hands, anywhere in the Milky Way and beyond.
Who is behind all these obstacles? And even the silencing? Yesterday began full of hope. The people of Oblivion and the Lunar Nation had light in their eyes, ready for what seemed the beginning of a new story.
Every few millennia we are granted the chance of transformation with the birth of an Aquaphoenix. We all awaited this as the dawn of a positive new era, trusting that the wave of luck and success emitted by the Aquaphoenix would accelerate Earth's ascension. We dreamed of the day we would return to the surface and reunite Earth with the other planets of the Solhara System. But what were we given instead, if not more and more questions without a single clear answer?
And I am here to try to answer them. Or at least, to help in the questioning.
Every 700 lunar years we pass through a phase of the Moon here in Oblivion, and yesterday marked the final day of the final year of a full moon. At the very climax of lunar glory, we expected to receive what we had waited for so long: the arrival of the Aquaphoenix. But instead of light, we got the peak of the fall—swift and brutal.
The city was packed: residents, visitors, tourists, leaders from across the Milky Way. All ready to witness a rare event in our history—the rebirth of a Solar Phoenix completing its last journey.
But at the very moment when our midwife, the Great Mage of Oblivion, should have risen with the Aquaphoenix, all we saw was disappointment. That story everyone knows. What few grasp is that everything in the universe is connected. And I, Lala, am here to remind you.
Shortly after the Great Mage Zygon was spat back from the Lake of Phoenixes, in a coma after the attack of the Water-Stingers, alarms rang across all four corners of the galaxy.
The Government of Greid had just launched its Dark Fleet to conquer Zones 13, 20, 25, and 22. It caught us by surprise. But I am not here to repeat what you already heard on radios, projectors, or communicators. I am here to bring the truth—the one nobody sees when they only skim the surface.
Yesterday, ships sighted in Zone 22 at the time of the explosion were also seen in our Solhara System. I believe that, taking advantage of the chaos of ships traveling through multidimensional portals, the ex-Grand Magi Liria Lilac—now commander of the Dark Fleet and leader of the Greid Government—was seen stepping out of one of Earth's lunar portals, heading toward Saturn.
There was doubt until the Amethyst-765 vessel was identified. Could Zygon's possible death—or coma—her old companion, be the reason for such a brazen appearance? I would risk saying: yes. She would never dare set foot in this system, where he is revered as one of the most respected regents of the Order of the Milky Way, without an urgent reason.
And, as you already know, I brought proof in pictures.
The image showed a ship, pentagonal and prismatic in shape, dark and ultraviolet in color, with silver metallic streaks. Liria Lilac's ship was not unknown, but it bore personal details, nearly like a signature. Sometimes she camouflaged it under other models or styles. But in that photo, it looked unguarded—which intrigued any observer.
Moments later, we all watched, glued to our communicators, as war unfolded across the galaxy. Cities and intergalactic portals flooded with ships from attacked zones, and it was understandable that enemies might slip past unnoticed.
Liria Lilac was seen here right after the explosion of an entire solar system in Zone 20. Not in two thousand years—since the Battle of Beta Cross—had such an atrocity been committed. At that time, Zygon lost because he believed his beloved Liria would never dare bombard the solar system where they had both grown up, shared childhood, shared memories. But she did it—without fear, without mercy—marking the rise of the Dark Fleet.
It is curious to think that, right after the announcement of the Aquaphoenix's non-birth and Zygon's coma, another solar system was blown apart without pity. Coincidence? I say no.
I do not fear death, and I will not be silenced. Evil will never go unpunished. The truth must always be told—not only to the people of Oblivion and Lunar Nation, but to the entire Via.
More ships have been sighted in our system, still off the official radar. If you ask me, I answer: yes! I believe this chain of falls was no accident.
The Oracle of the Via, in Zone 18, has already proclaimed the irrefutable prophecy: one day Earth would return to its glory through the birth of an Aquaphoenix. The star that gave light to life would shine again upon the world alongside a Phoenix, reuniting the surface people with their Solhara siblings. And the Constellation of the Five Sisters would reclaim its royal place in the sky, ending once and for all the chaotic rule of the Greid Government.
For Earth's ascension means the perpetual fall of the Fleet and its empire of evil.
The chaotic evacuation of the struck zones filled thousands of cities with refugees who lost everything. To all of you, new residents of Oblivion and Lunar Nation, of our Solhara System, I offer not only welcome, but also the truth about this chain of falls and the interference of evil in our flow of fortune and Pronoia.
Note: do not send letters or gather outside the main building of the Oblivion Gazette. As much as you may know that Lala the Salamander would love to meet you, her fans are blocking the entrance and exit of workers. Let us simply say: she does not want visitors—least of all at lunchtime.
The newspaper itself was not finished, but Lala always ended the edition when her column ended. Her chronicles were fiery and irreverent—the kind the reader could not put down until the last line.
Everyone knew she was responsible for that section. Yet Lala liked to pretend it was just an editorial choice of the Gazette. It never was. From the humble beginning, when she only commented on the main columnists' texts, her voice had gained notoriety all on its own.
That day, the Oblivion Gazette was seen far beyond the system where it had been printed. It circulated from the Constellation of the Five Sisters to the most distant Zones, both within the Order and the Commercial Territories—even the Dragon Domains. What no one expected was that it would land in the hands of the Greid Government itself.
Informants confirmed: the photo published by Lala was inflaming even enemy territory. Overnight, the Salamander became synonymous with truth and courage across the Milky Way. And Oblivion, once forgotten, became the center of a galactic—perhaps even universal—conversation about the secrets of Greid.
That same day, seventy thousand inhabitants from other parts of the Via began calling Oblivion their home. But behind the surface lay an even greater secret.
Neither Lala, nor anyone else in the galaxy, could know: within that chain of falls lay the very factor that had led to the Aquaphoenix's non-ascension.
It had a name, a surname, and an address.
His name was Equator da Silva. He lived on Dawn Street, house number 616, in the Dawn Boardinghouse.
A boy with world-filled eyes.