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EXPLORE
THE NEVERVERSE!
BOOK I
A Memory of Empire
Britsamia
Like something pulled from a steampunk movie, or a Jules Vern novel, the city of Britsamia is a marvel of steam engines and towering buildings. While it is not explicitly stated, the name of the world is “Nouvelle Europa.”
How humans came to live on this world is unknown, but it is likely the work of the Ellin… or more specifically, one ‘Princess Ilisa Arka’ra,’ and her sister ‘Dh’sah,’ the heirs to the Ellin Empire and The Crown of worlds. Although if asked, the powerful heads of the ruling Ellin family would never admit to having seeded the many worlds with humans.
However, many believe Ilisa is the likely culprit for why the multiverse is populated with humanity. It should be noted that any similarities to Victorian England are purely superficial, and the steampunk aesthetic is simply the result of the technological direction the culture has taken.
Politically, Nouvelle Europa is a constitutional monarchy, and socially a very rigid class society reminiscent of the English class system.
But that is where the similarity ends. Nouvelle Europa and the city of Britsamia are far from poverty-stricken, and unlike Victorian England, the vast majority of its population enjoy a comfortable existence. Interestingly enough, the scientific minds of Nouvelle Europa have developed rudimentary space flight.
To Estelle, the city of Britsamia holds the only peace and respite she can find from her duties to The Black Hand. But for Jessica, it is a welcome sanctuary in her aimless trek across worlds.
At the alley entrance, Jessica gaped in utter astonishment at the city beyond, and the profusion of long sleek vehicles slipping by the slower moving steam trams huffing their way up the rain-wet street. Adding to the general traffic chaos, swift steam bikes and other smaller vehicles weaved in and out of the larger ones, while high above the bustling streets, great airships docked and undocked from platforms between sky-reaching towers. In counter point to the confusing stream of traffic, Jessica spied sleek steam engines thundering along arched bridges between buildings, and all around crisply dressed citizens went about their day.
For Emma, it looked like nothing less than a set from some steampunk movie, but for Jessica, it had many elements of home nestled amongst the fantastical. I do not know where we are, but I have never been so pleased to see a steam train in all my life, or a parasol for that matter, Jessica thought, smiling at the familiar clothing of the people passing in the street. Although their well-groomed attire was a deep cause for concern considering the odd clothes Emma wore… Well in Jessica’s opinion.
Trinian
Nestled among a cluster of inhabitable systems, at the far edge of the Perseus Arm; the world of Trinian is a ghost of its former self. A dark, poverty-stricken, rain-plagued industrial world, Trinian and the city of New Eden have seen better days. Not that the world was ever much more than a rain-ridden expanse of moss-covered rocks and low flat trees to begin with. Yet it had some natural charm long before the near world spanning city of New Eden smothered it.
The former economic capital of the d’Aviamier Royal House in its waning days, the world now sits firmly in the Terran Empire’s grip, and governed by the ruthless d’Trinian family. Below the sky-reaching towers clawing at Trinian’s rain-hazed sky, there is an underworld of roving gangs, mechanically enhanced humans, and crime lords.
Navigating this seedy underworld, Clare earns a pittance as a package runner, delivering items to the less than savory denizens of the under-city. Life is brutal and short for those not of the ruling elite on Trinian, and Clare is no fool; a package runner is no less disposable than any of the other citizens struggling to survive. Yet, like so many eking out an existence among the underclass on Trinian, Clare dreams of escape… but getting lost in the multiverse was not quite what she had in mind.​
​The rain fell in sheets, not unlike broken glass from a collapsing building, when Clare’s air taxi lightly touched the edge of the dock.
Sighing at the sight of the torrential downpour, Clare sighed again at the unfairness of it all: the airship, more a decrepit bus, really, having chosen to dock near the upper platforms. This high up on the towering monolith, it meant no protection from the late February rain. With no umbrella or jacket for that matter, it was going to be a horrid walk to the lower exit, and the sub-levels. Not that she could have afforded either item with the amount she earned.
Fak I can hardly afford my shared cubical rent as it is, Clare growled.
But she had a job that paid more than just rations, and that had to count for something even if her sleeping cube was damp and cramped.
Just my luck to have a package this side of town, Clare lamented, frowning at the torrents of water.
Taking a deep breath, Clare sprinted off the gangplank toward the dubious shelter of a stairway.
“New Eden, what an ironic name for a grimy wet hellhole,” Clare snorted, thinking of the city she called home. But she had grown up here, and as bad as it was, it was home for the immediate future.
And besides, where would I go?
Other than the mines, gangs, and love dens, there were few options for an orphaned, barely educated girl on Trinian.
Verion
Situated approximately twenty light years from the border with Iralian space, Verion is the industrial heart of The Council of Worlds dominion. A metal world of smelters, factories, and ship production facilities, Verion is essentially biologically dead, and long since devoid of its native species.
​
Known as a death trap to all gifted other than those in bondage to The Council of Worlds, Verion has long since forgotten its origins as an Ellin-governed world. The world of Verion has played a central role thought galactic history, and indeed it was there that the Ellin sisters Ilisa and Dh’sah first commissioned the World Ships that would become a sanctuary for their people. Yet, Verion is a doomed world with its star bloated and dying. In time, it will join its companion as a burned-out white dwarf, cold and dead, incapable of nurturing life.
The end seems fitting, considering The Council of Worlds Empire seems an analogue of Verion and its star’s fate.
Growling in disgust, En’nar sought the shelter of a nearby building. Verion was worse than Trinian with its constant rain.
However, it was a necessary evil. Without the atmosphere scrubbers, and heat sinks, the planet would quickly become uninhabitable.
Verion, the commercial jewel in The Council’s crown, had been this way since long before he could remember. A metal world of factory complexes, smelters, and ship yards orbiting a bloated, sullen red star.
The thought made him chuckle, for it was, in a way, one of the last vestiges of the old Ellin Empire. Not that any here other than an Ellin would know, or indeed remember that fact.
Pushing thoughts of his home world aside, En’nar snorted a laugh at a final thought. He had been born here in the last days of the Old Empire as it crumbled in chaos, and the great world ships were being constructed in haste. He did not doubt his own mother would still command her one true love, Arka’ra. Ilisa had more love for that colossus than she did her own son. Snorting in disgust, En’nar focused on the task at hand.
Ellin
Quite possibly the worst world anyone could arrive on, Ellin is not simply dead; it is death itself. Scorched during the last Ellin civil war, Ellin is little more than a Qrin-infested wasteland of broken monuments shrouded in thick red dust.
The very air is poisonous, and if the shaggy Qrin do not devour you, the dust that coats every surface will see you dead within hours.
Once the home world to the Ellin species, the world became famous for its genetic research… Unfortunately when the Qrin virus escaped, Ilisa Arka’ra had no choice but to burn all life on the world. How the Qrin survived the scorching of Ellin, none know for sure, and few are mad or curious enough to venture to the surface to understand why.
Remy frowned at the barren, lifeless world below. It was truly a desolate rock. Sullen, dusty red-gray clouds blanketed the sky, with fragments of land below showing through the gaps.
Broken towers, miles high, thrust through the clouds, indicating the presence of once-great cities. In orbit around the world, chunks of broken ship and port systems tumbled in a slow dance, forming a disk of detritus.
The look on his face did not go unnoticed by En’nar. “You are wondering why this would be their destination, human?” En’nar said, hissing laughter as he guided the ship toward the atmosphere, the telltale thumps and shudders denoting its highest extent.
Somehow Remy knew he had never liked re-entry burns, the hazy memory intruding on his concentration.
“You will see in time, human, that they will come here,” En’nar continued, his smile cruel and feral. The evil look caused Remy to shudder a little, thankfully masked by the motions of atmospheric entry. “Do you know where we are, human?” En’nar asked with dark amusement.
Remy cast a nervous glance at the creature and shook his head.
“Your people helped destroy this place,” En’nar continued, giving Remy a crooked grin. “Welcome to Ellin, the cradle of my people, and its grave.”
Remy swallowed hard. He had heard tales of this place… and none of them were good.
Iralia
Situated some eight light years from the border between Iralian space and the other great factions, the world of Iralia stands as a sanctuary to Ellin and humanity alike.
In stark contrast to the poverty-stricken world of Trinian, Iralia and the empire it governs are truly prosperous. Gifted to humanity by the Ellin sisters Ilisa and Dh’sah, Iralia is the symbolic and economic capital of ‘The Solar Court.’ Yet, Iralia is not simply old; it is truly ancient. Even the mythical Ellin Goddess Ena’Say-d’ya and her sister Ciri’isa would recognize the name, although the current city is far from the one they would remember.
Described by Lauren as resembling a coral garden, the city feels almost organic with every surface carved with leaves and vines. Yet something rotten lurks at the heart of The Solar Court. With a broken crown, and a Privy Council vying to claim possession of it, Iralia is far from the sanctuary it should be for Jessica and her motley crew. Politics is the rule of the day, and as beautiful as the world and city of Iralia may seem, it could very well be a trap to the unwary
Stepping through The Great Gate, Lauren gasped at the city laid out far below the ornate garden she appeared in.
To the north, stretching as far as the distant mountains, a multitude of delicate towers in gleaming white spread away from the palace peak, while to the south the city dissolved into a half-moon bay. Rivers and lakes dotted the city, traversed by a delicate lacework of bridges and towers. The palace around Lauren simply took her breath away with its high faceted windows of colored glass festooning the walls, and every surface carved with vines and flowers. It was a garden frozen in glass and stone, left to cascade down the peak to wash up against the city far below.