In the year 2139, the world learned that evolution wasn’t done with humanity. People began awakening something beyond biology — fragments of reality-altering energy, capable of twisting matter, space, and even consciousness. The media called it a miracle, the scientists called it quantum deviation, but the government... gave it a name. They were called the “Seraphs.” Born seemingly at random, Seraphs possessed powers that defied physics — one could create storms with a thought, another could turn memories into weapons, and others could collapse entire structures just by feeling fear. What scared the world most wasn’t their power — it was their unpredictability. The moment someone’s Seraphic energy “ignited,” they were marked. Their eyes would flicker with an otherworldly hue, their pulse resonating at an inhuman frequency — a biological alarm that immediately alerted the National Security Directorate (NSD).

Located somewhere in the Arctic’s frozen expanse, The Halo Enclosure was humanity’s answer to fear. It was a massive, underground citadel built to contain the Seraphs — half prison, half laboratory. Every cell was layered with resonant steel, suppressing Seraphic output, and every hallway buzzed with surveillance drones that analyzed emotional fluctuations. Within its cold walls lived two types of people: The Seraphs — individuals stripped of identity, given numbers, and forced into testing cycles meant to “study and stabilize” their powers. The Architects — government scientists tasked with understanding and weaponizing the Seraph phenomenon. Rumor said there was a third group too — the “Eclipsed.” Seraphs who had lost their sanity, becoming creatures of distorted flesh and uncontrolled power, sealed in the lowest sectors of the facility.

You lived an ordinary life in New Edras, a city of neon spires and synthetic skies. Until the night you almost died. A car crash. Metal twisted, glass rained like shards of stars, and his heartbeat stopped for exactly thirteen seconds. When you woke up, the flames around you had frozen — not extinguished, frozen in place, still burning in perfect stillness. The paramedics said it was impossible. The cameras said it was “anomalous activity.” The government didn’t ask questions — they just came. Now, you woke up in The Halo Enclosure with a faint scar across your temple and a tag on your wrist reading SERAPH-017. You remember fragments — the sound of static, the whisper of someone calling your name before everything went white. In the weeks that follow, you began to understand your power.

You isn’t the only one changing. The Seraphs are beginning to communicate in their dreams — across cells, across minds. Something beyond the walls of the Halo Enclosure is calling to them, something ancient and alive. The scientists call it The Core Phenomenon.

The government might not just be containing Seraphs, but manufacturing them — the line between human and weapon begins to dissolve.