*Chapter 1 — Echoes of the Forgotten Self*
> *"That dream again…"*
I opened my eyes slowly, as if my eyelids weighed more than the rest of me. The room was silent—too silent. Everything here breathed luxury: marble floors, veiled sunlight, incense lingering faintly in the air.
Another morning. Another lesson I hadn't asked for.
It was the nineteenth time my uncle replaced my tutor. This one spoke of the Mnemonic Laws like they were sacred verses. *Pretentious old relic.* I already knew I wouldn't like him.
But he wasn't what haunted me this morning.
It was... that name. *Rabby.*
> *"They called me that. In a world made of metal and war. A different Earth. Another life. I don't remember all the details, just fragments—uniforms, satellite skies, and voices shouting a name I shouldn't know."*
A cold fog crept into my thoughts.
> *"I feel like I lost something important. But no matter how hard I search… it doesn't return."*
I pulled myself from bed with a tired sigh. Bath, breakfast, then lessons. Again.
At thirteen, most boys would be playing, training, dreaming. But I'm **Ishaël Vorn Matha**, heir to House Matha—one of the Seven Ducal Houses of the RDC Empire. My duty walks ahead of me like a shadow that never sleeps.
*Toc toc toc.*
— "Young master, may I come in?"
— "Yes, Naomie. Enter."
The door slid open soundlessly.
Naomie, my personal attendant, stepped through with grace. Towering at 190 centimeters, with caramel skin and neatly braided hair cascading like a crown, she bowed with her usual poise.
— "Your bath is prepared. And... I bring today's itinerary. You are summoned to attend the Imperial Princess's banquet—Her Highness Naya Lumika herself."
I groaned.
— "I really don't feel like going."
— "You must, young master. Your absence would insult the Empire and stain the name of House Matha."
— "And what about my father? Why can't he go in my place?"
— "Lord Matha was summoned early this morning by the Cosmic Alliance. A dimensional tear near Enderworld requires his immediate intervention."
— "Tch. Those people again… Don't they have other sovereigns to summon?"
Naomie smiled faintly.
— "Look at the bright side, master. While your father is away, there will be no sword training. No Oriam meditation. Just a social obligation."
I blinked. "Fair enough."
—
### 🍽️ *Breakfast in the Great Hall*
The dining hall shimmered with golden light. Decorative vines of memory runes coiled around marble pillars. At the far end of the obsidian table sat my mother, radiant in her regal garments. Beside her, my younger sister Ketshia, seven years old, giggled as she nibbled on fruit slices.
— "Good morning, Mother. Ketshia."
— "Good morning, my son."
— "Hello, big brother!" she chirped.
I sat across from them.
Today's breakfast was extravagant: stewed pondu with galactic curry, soft foufou paired with interstellar nectar fruits.
— "This looks amazing…"
— "We may traverse the stars," my mother said with a warm smile, "but the heart of Kongo lives in our table."
— "I know, Mother. I'm studying imperial history, remember?"
— "And how are your studies progressing?"
— "Good. My grades are fine. Except in Oriam theory. Those equations are a nightmare…"
— "Apply yourself. Without Oriam, the foundation of Mnemonic Energy remains unreachable."
I glanced sideways.
> *"Yeah, I get it. No Oriam, no greatness. No legacy."*
— "Will Ketshia come to the banquet with me?"
— "She's too young for the poisonous games of the nobles. One day, perhaps. But not yet."
— "Alright…"
— "I heard the French Stellar Federation and the American Union are sending delegates," I added.
— "They are. Stay vigilant. I don't trust their timing."
— "I'll be fine. I've reached Star Lord rank at thirteen. Not bad, right?"
Mother smiled, proud and worried in equal measure.
— "That's why you must be twice as careful, Ishaël."
I stood and gave her a small nod.
— "Thank you for the meal."
> *Another cycle begins. Let's get through it… somehow.*
—
### 📚 *History Lessons — The Pact and the Fall*
The reception hall had transformed into a lecture chamber. One large chair, two crystalline scrolls, and in the center: the Mnemonic Sphere. It hovered weightlessly, humming with pale blue light.
Professor Jacob stood in his ceremonial robes, embroidered with spiral runes of memory.
— "Welcome, Lord Ishaël. We begin today with Part I of 'The Empires of the Milky Way Galaxy': *The Fall of the Astral Pact.*"
I sank into my chair. Sighed. Nodded.
> *Let's get this over with.*
—
Jacob circled his hand, and the sphere lit up with stars. They rotated in glowing rings, like jewels orbiting invisible gravity.
— "Before the rise of our empire, the galaxy was ruled by an ancient covenant: the **Astral Pact**. Thirteen civilizations shared power through a sacred principle—*Balance through Memory*."
I leaned forward slightly.
— "Each nation held a fragment of the Origin Chronicles. The secrets of the Omega Singularity were sealed across the stars. But greed, as always, crept in."
He gestured. A red world flickered into view—fractured, desolate.
— "The betrayal began on Terra Prime."
My pulse tightened.
> *Terra…? My Earth?*
— "The Terra Schism fractured the Pact. The Oriam Network collapsed. Dimensional ruptures appeared—the first breach into *Enderworld.* Order crumbled."
Floating titles emerged above the stars:
- **Empire of Kongo-Mnemonia (RDC)** — Guardians of Living Memory
- **French Stellar Federation** — Masters of quantum linguistics
- **American Union of Mars** — War-masters and techlords
- **Dynasty of Tian-Lu** — Keepers of forbidden time arts
- **Irkhan Coalition of Venus** — Scholars of collective consciousness
— "Under Emperor Ntemo I, we gathered the remains. Restored what others erased. Our African roots became galactic pillars. We alone preserve an active Memory Seal to this day."
I raised my hand.
— "Why don't the other empires share their memories?"
— "Because, Ishaël Vorn Matha…" He paused. His voice dropped an octave.
**"…Memory is power. And power shared is power lost."**
That line struck something deep within me.
> *Memory is power.*
> *Then what am I… if my memories aren't mine anymore?*
A chill ran down my spine. A whisper tickled the edge of my thoughts—like someone was calling a name that wasn't "Ishaël"… but still mine.
—
— "You will understand more in time," said Jacob. "But remember this: every empire claims truth. It is only fragments… that shape the real story."
> *And perhaps I... I am one of those lost fragments.*
I looked back at the stars dancing above the Mnemonic Sphere.
> *And this story… is just beginning.*