"Dr. Lysander! I need your attention for a moment!"
Lysander barely glanced up, his messy brown hair falling across his glasses, obscuring the sharpness of his eyes.
"You have five minutes. Speak quickly."
His colleague wasted no time, already leading him toward the observation table.
Lysander followed, his mind half elsewhere—until he noticed the urgency in the man's movements.
His colleague stood hovering over the telescope, posture rigid, voice lower than usual.
"Sir, I was reviewing the moonstone when I noticed something."
He gestured toward the lens, adjusting the focus over a fracture within the stone.
Beneath its surface—lingering within the cracks—was something impossible.
A faint core of blue dust, shifting within its crevices, was barely noticeable.
Lysander leaned in, taking the telescope himself, and what he saw made his breath hitch.
A speckle of silver and gold, radiating faintly, shaped like a star, pulsing with an energy unlike anything they'd encountered before.
"This…" His voice trailed off, fingers hovering just over the controls, as if touching the image itself might shatter it.
His colleague's voice was steady, but tinged with anticipation.
"I believe it's proof—small, but undeniable. This could be the starlight we've spent decades searching for."
Lysander watched the dust twinkle, a quiet but unmistakable shift in his demeanor.
This wasn't just a discovery.
This was the beginning of something greater
Dr. Lysander pushed back from the surface, his breath uneven—but not from exhaustion, from exhilaration.
His eyes burned with something rare and electric—the thrill of confirmation, the proof they'd been chasing for years.
"Begin experiments immediately!" he ordered, his voice sharp, commanding. "We need every shred of information possible!"
He stepped away from the telescope, his smile growing, unguarded.
This discovery meant everything.
More than theory, more than speculation—this was the foundation of what was to come.
His colleague, startled but eager, straightened quickly, offering a quick, respectful bow before returning to his readings.
"Yes, Dr ! I'll begin immediately!"
The room buzzed with quiet tension, the weight of their realization settling over them like an omen.
**************************************************************************************
Dr Lysander And The Board
Dr. Lysander entered the room without hesitation, the dim lighting barely casting enough glow to reveal the crystallized table at its center.
"Good evening, people of the board!"
The tension in the room shattered instantly—not because of his presence, but because of his blatant disregard for decorum.
It was abrupt. Obnoxious, even.
Victor Halethorne—the shadowed figure at the head of the table—stood stiffly, his annoyance unmistakable.
"Dr. Lysander, what is the meaning of this disruption?"
Officer Vance: seated to the right, let out a sharp exhale, his clenched fists resting against the table with barely restrained hostility.
"You are a mere subject, show some respect!" Vance sneered. "Or I'll have you run yards for sixty days!"
Lysander smirked, unfazed.
"Oh, so sorry, m'lord—didn't mean to disrupt your highness."
He bowed dramatically, mocking the authority in the room, his once-groomed hair now a mess of unkept strands, falling over his face like time itself had worn him down.
Vance shot up from his chair, his posture rigid, demanding, his palms slamming against the crystalline surface with force.
"Why you little shit—have some respect, will you!?"
Lysander's eyes squinted ever so slightly—that knowing look.
The kind only a scientist gives when they know something the room doesn't.
Dr. Aria Lorentis—ever perceptive, ever attuned to the weight behind that expression—stood abruptly, her hands gripping the table as excitement burned behind her eyes.
"Let him speak! I know that look!" she declared. "He knows something—and we're going to love it!"
Elira Orlannis, usually reserved, tilted her head slightly, her voice cool yet expectant.
"For once, I agree with Dr. Aria."
Sylas Vern remained silent, merely raising a brow before offering a single nod.
"I wish to hear him out."
Victor exhaled sharply, then threw himself back into his chair, hands folded before him.
"Very well. The order has spoken—we will hear him out."
But not everyone was convinced.
Officer Vance—his posture rigid, eyes shadowed by irritation—leaned forward.
"Victor! He has disrespected the board, barged in without an ounce of formal announcement!"
Victor did not hesitate.
"Sit down, Officer Vance. I have no time for your arrogance right now."
His gaze flickered sharply, impatient and decisive.
Vance slumped back, arms crossed, his restraint clear—but compliance unavoidable.
He may have been a general, but even he held no power over the head of the board.
His gaze, however, never left Lysander, watching, waiting, anticipating whatever was to come.
Dr. Lysander threw his arms wide, a grin splitting across his face as if inviting the board into an embrace of knowledge.
"Now that I have your attention!"
He let the words hang, dramatic, deliberate.
"We have found signs of the Starlight."
The effect was instantaneous.
The board jerked upright, murmurs rippling through the room—gasping, shock, exhilaration, and, at long last, victory.
Dr. Aria Lorentis burst into laughter, unhinged and delighted, leaning forward, hands gripping the table.
"Ha! I knew he had something good!"
Officer Vance was less amused.
His fist slammed onto the crystalline surface, the impact ringing through the chamber.
"It can't be!" He pointed a stained finger at Lysander, eyes narrowed with doubt, fury. "You're lying!"
Lysander merely tilted his head, unbothered, his smirk unwavering.
"Oh, come now, Officer Vance—why would I lie about something this important?"
Vance's jaw tightened, arms crossing, his eye twitching with irritation.
Sylas Vern, typically unreadable, sank further into his chair, his gaze locked onto the floor beneath him.
This wasn't the news he wanted.
But now—it had been spoken aloud. It couldn't be undone.
Victor Halethorne surveyed the room, noting every flicker of reaction before speaking.
"Very well. Proceed."
Lysander's smile grew—not smug, but satisfied, recognition finally settling around him.
This discovery meant everything.
With practiced ease, he pulled the files forward, unfolding the truth—their future—before them all.
His mouth begins to move, but the words are gone unheard.
************************************************************************************
The Awakening Discovery
Dr. Lysander strolled through the city, the weight of his files pressed against his torso, one hand buried deep in his pocket, the other flicking away the ashes of his cigarette.
His dark chocolate eyes—hidden beneath his glasses—caught the sunlight, glowing like embers as he gazed upward, lost in thought.
He was nearly at the office when—
"DR. LYSANDER!"
A familiar voice cut through the hum of the city.
He turned—his colleague barreling toward him, arm waving, followed closely by another—a female colleague just as breathless, just as frantic.
They skidded to a halt before him, gasping for air, urgency etched into their faces.
Then, they spoke at once.
"Dr. Lysander, we've found something—something you need to see!"
His eyes narrowed, intrigue sparking beneath his exhausted exterior.
"And what is that?"
He flicked the last of the ashes from his cigarette, waiting.
The male colleague, still struggling for breath, forced the words out.
"The silver dust—it's alive!"
Lysander's brows lifted, confusion flickering behind his sharp gaze.
"Alive? What do you mean alive? Speak plainly!"
The female colleague hesitated, voice barely steady.
"Dr… what he's trying to say is that it moves—it behaves like a microorganism and…"
She trailed off.
Something unspoken.
Something bigger.
Lysander's patience wore thin.
"And?"
The male colleague exhaled sharply, then said it.
"It can rebirth itself."
Lysander stilled, brows furrowed, thoughts racing.
"Rebirth itself?" His voice was sharper now. "That's impossible—it's not some tardigrade microorganism."
His colleague shook his head.
"No, Dr. Lysander. It's more than that."
A pause.
Then—
"It's a form of a Hydra organism. It's immortal."
The weight of the words settled between them, the realization hanging thick in the air, shifting everything Lysander thought he understood.
And for the first time— he felt like he was standing at the edge of something he could never turn back from.
Dr. Lysander stood motionless, his breath caught halfway in his throat.
The cigarette slipped from his fingers, tumbling toward the ground—a quiet fall, but the impact felt deafening.
Ash scattered, carried by the city breeze, dispersing like the fragments of his certainty.
His lips barely moved, the words escaping in a breathless whisper.
"That's… that's impossible..."