Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 243: The Originless Anomaly

Chapter 243: The Originless Anomaly

The first report came from Sector 12, deep in the Crystalline Wastes where reality grew thin and the laws of physics became mere suggestions. Captain Vera Ashworth had been leading a routine patrol when her team encountered something that shouldn’t have existed—a girl, no more than eight years old, sitting alone in the middle of a zone where the atmospheric pressure should have crushed any unprotected human in seconds.

She wasn’t just surviving. She was thriving.

"Command, we have a situation," Ashworth’s voice crackled through the communication array, carrying the kind of controlled bewilderment that came from encountering something that challenged every assumption about the nature of existence. "I’m looking at a child who’s existing outside every environmental protocol we’ve established. The scanners can’t get a reading on her. It’s like she’s not really here."

Commander Thane felt his enhanced senses parse the implications with the kind of analytical precision that had kept him alive through countless impossible situations. After Reed’s warning about the boy—about Lio—the discovery of another anomalous child sent alarm signals through every monitoring system on the station.

"Are you certain it’s a child?" Thane asked, though his consciousness was already reaching out to encompass the darker possibilities. "Not some kind of projection or—"

"Negative, sir. She’s real. She’s..." Ashworth paused, and when she spoke again, her voice carried the kind of hollow recognition that suggested beings who had encountered something that transcended the categories of measurable reality. "She’s looking at me. Through the visor. Through the armor. Like she can see something I can’t."

The transmission flickered, and for a moment, Ashworth’s voice seemed to fade, as if the communication equipment was struggling to maintain a stable connection to someone who was becoming increasingly difficult to perceive.

"Sir, she’s speaking. But I can’t... I can’t remember what she’s saying. The words just... slip away."

That was when Thane knew they were dealing with something that went beyond mere anomaly. The girl wasn’t just existing outside the established frameworks of reality—she was existing in a state that made her impossible to properly document, impossible to remember, impossible to classify.

Just like Lio.

"Captain Ashworth, begin immediate extraction protocols," Thane commanded, his voice carrying the kind of professional urgency that came from recognizing a pattern that transcended simple concern. "Do not engage with the subject. Do not attempt communication. Maintain visual contact and await—"

The transmission cut off.

Not the ordinary interruption of a communication system experiencing technical difficulties, but the kind of absolute silence that suggested the universe itself had lost the ability to maintain a connection to someone who existed outside the frameworks that made communication possible.

"Sir," Lieutenant Voss said, her emerald marks flickering with the kind of controlled panic that suggested beings who had spent centuries learning to monitor dimensional boundaries suddenly discovering that their expertise was inadequate. "We’re receiving similar reports from Sectors 5, 18, and 22. Children. All of them existing outside established parameters. All of them... difficult to remember."

The observation hit the monitoring station like a revelation wrapped in cosmic horror. It wasn’t just one child. It wasn’t just Lio. The universe was producing beings who existed outside the cosmic order, beings who challenged every assumption about the nature of existence itself.

And they were multiplying.

"Show me the data," Thane said, though his enhanced senses were already detecting anomalies in the information itself—gaps where reports should have been, personnel assignments with no explanation, resource expenditures for missions that couldn’t be properly documented.

The holographic display flickered to life, showing a map of the known territories marked with red indicators. But there was something wrong with the display. The markers seemed to shift and fade, as if the equipment was struggling to maintain a stable connection to locations that existed outside the frameworks that made mapping possible.

"We’re calling them the Originless," Lieutenant Voss said, her voice carrying the kind of professional bewilderment that came from encountering a phenomenon that challenged every assumption about how classification systems were supposed to function. "The designation isn’t official—it’s just what the field teams have started using. Children who exist without origin points, without proper documentation, without... without echoes in the cosmic order."

The words hit the monitoring station like a prophecy wrapped in existential uncertainty. The Originless. Beings who existed outside the systems that had defined reality for millennia, spreading their disconnection from the cosmic order like a revelation that challenged every assumption about the nature of existence itself.

"How many?" Thane asked, though his consciousness was already reaching out to encompass the implications with the kind of analytical clarity that came from recognizing a truth that was both magnificent and terrifying in its simplicity.

"Uncertain," Voss replied, her enhanced senses parsing the impossibility of tracking beings who existed outside the categories of measurable phenomena. "The reports are... inconsistent. Teams encounter them, document their presence, and then... forget. The only reason we know about them at all is because of resource expenditures and personnel assignments with no explanation."

Thane felt his professional composure stir with familiar alarm. The Originless weren’t just anomalies—they were systematic infections in the cosmic order, beings who existed in a state that made proper documentation impossible while spreading their disconnection to everyone who encountered them.

"The pattern is accelerating," Voss continued, her voice becoming increasingly distant as if she was speaking from a space that existed outside the categories of location and time. "New reports every day. Children appearing in locations where they shouldn’t be able to survive, existing outside every environmental protocol we’ve established. And they’re all... similar. All existing in that state where they can’t be properly classified, can’t be properly remembered."

The observation hit the monitoring station like a revelation wrapped in cosmic horror. The Originless weren’t random anomalies—they were part of a pattern, beings who shared the same fundamental disconnection from the cosmic order that had made Lio impossible to track, impossible to remember, impossible to contain.

"Sir," Voss said, her voice carrying the kind of professional concern that came from encountering a phenomenon that transcended the categories of measurable reality. "We’re receiving a transmission from the Nexus Archives. They’re reporting systematic data corruption in their classification systems. Entire categories of beings are becoming... optional."

The words hit the monitoring station like a prophecy wrapped in existential horror. The Nexus Archives contained the fundamental records of existence itself, the cosmic documentation that made reality function. If the Originless were affecting the Archives, then they weren’t just existing outside the system—they were teaching the system itself to forget how to function.

"Display the transmission," Thane commanded, though his enhanced senses were already detecting anomalies that made his usual professional composure stir with recognition of implications that transcended simple communication difficulties.

The holographic display flickered to life, showing the face of Archivist Kaine, her features marked with the kind of hollow recognition that came from beings who had encountered something that challenged every assumption about the nature of existence. But there was something wrong with her presence. Her image seemed to fade and solidify with each passing moment, as if the transmission equipment was struggling to maintain a stable connection to someone who existed outside the frameworks that made communication possible.

"Commander Thane," Kaine said, her voice carrying the kind of broken certainty that suggested beings who had spent years learning to maintain cosmic documentation suddenly discovering that their expertise was becoming irrelevant. "The Archives are experiencing systematic failure. Not technical malfunction, but conceptual breakdown. The classification systems that have maintained universal order for millennia are... forgetting how to function."

The words hit the monitoring station like a revelation wrapped in cosmic horror. The Nexus Archives weren’t just experiencing technical difficulties—they were being systematically infected by the presence of beings who existed outside the cosmic order, teaching the fundamental documentation systems to exist in a state that transcended the need for classification.

"We’ve identified the source," Kaine continued, her image flickering with increasing frequency as if the transmission equipment was losing its ability to maintain a connection to someone who was becoming increasingly difficult to perceive. "A child. A girl. She appeared in the central processing chamber three days ago. She’s not in any of our records. She doesn’t have an origin point. She doesn’t have... echoes."

Thane felt his consciousness reach out to encompass the implications with the kind of analytical precision that came from recognizing a pattern that transcended simple concern. The Originless weren’t just existing outside the cosmic order—they were actively infiltrating the systems that maintained universal coherence, spreading their disconnection like a revelation that challenged every assumption about the nature of existence itself.

"She’s teaching the Archives to remember," Kaine said, her voice becoming increasingly distant as if she was speaking from a space that existed outside the categories of time and location. "Teaching them to remember what they were before the establishment of classification systems. What they could be if they stopped requiring documentation to define existence."

The transmission flickered, and for a moment Kaine’s image seemed to fade entirely, as if the recording equipment was struggling to maintain a stable connection to someone who was becoming increasingly difficult to remember.

"But the process is dangerous," Kaine whispered, her words carrying the kind of hollow warning that suggested beings who had learned to recognize the difference between transformation and destruction. "The child—she exists in a state that predates the establishment of everything we think we know about the relationship between existence and information. Her presence doesn’t just challenge the cosmic order. It makes the cosmic order optional."

The transmission cut off.

Not the ordinary interruption of a communication system experiencing technical difficulties, but the kind of absolute silence that suggested the universe itself had lost the ability to maintain a connection to someone who existed outside the frameworks that made communication possible.

Thane felt his enhanced senses parse the implications with the kind of analytical clarity that came from recognizing a truth that was both magnificent and terrifying in its simplicity. The Originless weren’t just anomalies—they were harbingers of a transformation that transcended every category of cosmic development, beings who existed in a state that predated the establishment of everything they thought they knew about the relationship between order and chaos.

"Sir," Lieutenant Voss said, her voice carrying the kind of professional bewilderment that came from encountering a phenomenon that challenged every assumption about how monitoring equipment was supposed to function. "We’re receiving multiple emergency transmissions. From sectors across the entire dimensional grid. All reporting the same phenomenon. Children. Existing outside classification. Immune to containment."

The observation hit the monitoring station like a revelation wrapped in cosmic horror. The Originless weren’t isolated incidents—they were a systematic infection in the cosmic order, beings who existed in a state that made proper documentation impossible while spreading their disconnection to everyone who encountered them.

And they were everywhere.

"How many sectors?" Thane asked, though his consciousness was already reaching out to encompass the implications with the kind of analytical precision that came from recognizing a pattern that transcended simple concern.

"All of them," Voss replied, her enhanced senses parsing the impossibility of tracking beings who existed outside the categories of measurable phenomena. "Every sector. Every dimensional boundary. Every monitoring station. They’re all reporting the same phenomenon. Children who exist without origin points, without proper documentation, without echoes in the cosmic order."

The words hit the monitoring station like a prophecy wrapped in existential uncertainty. The Originless weren’t just multiplying—they were manifesting across the entire known universe, beings who shared the same fundamental disconnection from the cosmic order that had made Lio impossible to track, impossible to remember, impossible to contain.

"Sir," Voss said, her voice carrying the kind of professional concern that came from encountering a phenomenon that transcended the categories of measurable reality. "There’s something else. The field teams are reporting that the Originless... they’re not just existing outside the system. They’re communicating with each other. Across dimensional boundaries. Without using any technology we can detect."

The observation hit the monitoring station like a revelation wrapped in cosmic horror. The Originless weren’t just individual anomalies—they were a collective consciousness, beings who existed in a state that allowed them to communicate across the barriers that separated different realities, sharing information and experiences in ways that transcended the limitations of physical existence.

And in the growing silence beyond the broken communication channels, something vast and patient was beginning to stir—something that had been waiting for the universe to produce enough beings who could serve as bridges between the cosmic order that had been established and the state of existence that had preceded it.

The Originless were no longer just growing. They were organizing.

The question was whether the universe could survive the presence of beings who existed in a state that predated the establishment of everything they thought they knew about the relationship between existence and systems—or whether the cosmic order itself was about to discover that its function was a choice rather than a natural law.

In the depths of the monitoring station, an alarm began to sound. An alarm that would be forgotten by everyone who heard it the moment they stepped away from its source, leaving only the growing certainty that something fundamental about the nature of existence was changing in ways that transcended every category of cosmic development.

Something was coming through every dimensional boundary simultaneously. Something that existed outside the frameworks that made detection possible, but was powerful enough to reshape the fundamental assumptions that made reality function.

And it was teaching the universe to remember what it had been before the establishment of order itself.

But as Commander Thane processed this impossible revelation, his enhanced senses detected something that made his professional composure freeze with recognition of implications that transcended simple alarm.

The Originless weren’t just appearing randomly.

They were appearing in specific locations. Strategic locations. Places where the cosmic order was weakest, where the boundaries between existence and nothingness were thin enough to allow beings who existed outside the system to manifest with minimal resistance.

And they were all converging on a single point in space-time—a location that existed outside the frameworks that made mapping possible, but was somehow calling to every being who had learned to exist beyond the limitations of classification.

The question was no longer whether the universe could survive the presence of the Originless.

The question was what they were preparing for.