STARLIGHT UNBOUND by Deus Ex Machina - HTML preview

STARLIGHT UNBOUND

He narrowed his eyes, drawn in despite himself. Curiosity tugged at him, something unfamiliar stirring in the back of his mind. Vandals don ’t paint like this. Whatever it was, it didn’t feel random. There was an intention behind it.

Lucien shook his head taking another drag. It’s paint, he told himself. Let the Stewards deal with it.

As he turned back toward the Bureau, the shimmer stayed in his mind, a quiet whisper that refused to fade.

***

On his way home, Lucien couldn't help but notice the Stewards again— stationed at intersections, near transit hubs, standing watch by the freshly tagged walls. They looked the same as always—calm, professional, their uniforms pristine and unwrinkled —but their presence felt different. More focused. More watchful.

Stewards don ’t linger like this. Do they?

Frowning, he glanced at one as he passed. The officer’s gaze followed him, eyes scanning with quiet precision. Maybe it was the graffiti. Maybe there were more of them on the streets today. Or maybe he just hadn ’t noticed before.

He quickened his pace, letting the thought dissolve into the bustling of the city around him.

Following his usual route back to his apartment, Lucien ’s eyes caught another piece of graffiti near the edge of Sector 8. This one was different— clean, deliberate. No chaotic swirls or jagged edges. A single phrase scrawled across the wall in bold, unshaken strokes:

"Do you feel it yet?"

He stopped, his breath catching in his throat as he studied the words. The handwriting was sharp, confident, the black letters standing in stark contrast against the dull gray concrete.

Lucien glanced around. The street was empty, only the faint whir of drones filling the air.

Do you feel it yet?

The words remained with him, digging under his skin in a way that unsettled him. He thought of the Speaker’s voice from the remembrance show: "As above, so below." A promise of balance, order, and harmony.

But the phrase on the wall felt different —less a statement, more a challenge.

Feel what?

Even as he walked away, the question clung to him, threading itself into his

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