**Chapter 1: The Silent Sky**

  The sky never moved.

  That was the first lie.

  Since the day he was born, Kael had lived beneath that perfect stillness. The Dome stretched above him like a taut veil of light, on the verge of breaking—but it never did. The morning blue was painted with care, flawless. The clouds—when they appeared—hung motionless, suspended like fragments of a forgotten dream. Even the sun, locked at the apex of the artificial sky, shone without warmth. It never failed. It rose every day, to the second.

  And yet today, Kael found no comfort in it.

  Sitting cross-legged on the smooth floor of his habitation unit, he stared at the ceiling without truly seeing it. Filtered air whispered gently from the vents, carrying a scent too pure to be real—maybe synthetic lavender. Everything smelled like nostalgia for a world he’d never known. A memory reassembled. A past bleached of its texture.

  He lived alone, at the village's edge, in a standard residential cell. A white, immaculate hexagon. Built-in furniture. Retractable bed. Smooth, lifeless surfaces. Every item in its place. Every order upheld.

  A soft chime echoed from the doorway.

  “Day Two Hundred Seventy-One of Unity. Morning cycle begins. Rise and offer your breath.”

  Kael didn’t move.

  He hated that command. *Offer your breath.* It was the first act of the day: inhale deeply, raise your arms to the Dome, and exhale slowly in thanks to the gods for the air they granted. A ritual learned before words. To breathe was to submit.

  This morning, Kael kept his breath.

  He closed his eyes. He listened.

  The village stirred. Footsteps on metal tiles. Joyful voices. The flutter of banners being unfurled. And that melody—the same, always. Four rising notes, and one that fell. The Hymn of Unity. It was meant to symbolize ascension, then return to the people.

  To Kael, it sounded like a fall.

  He rose slowly, muscles dull and heavy. A soft tension coiled in his chest—like a string pulled too tight. He stepped to the embedded mirror and studied his reflection. The same dark eyes. The same disheveled hair. The same quiet, narrow frame. Behind his ear, a faint burn mark shaped like a glyph. He didn’t know what it meant. His mother had hidden it. Protected it. But never explained it.

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  He dressed: gray tunic, fitted pants, black boots. Not yet the ceremonial uniform. That would come later, on the Plaza of Breath, when everyone gathered to sing and give thanks. For now, he could still move unseen.

  He stepped outside.

  The morning light bounced off polished metal walkways. The village was already alive. Families swept thresholds. Children ran with glowing ribbons—photonic trails turned into games. Stalls filled with glistening fruit, identical to last year’s. The same smiles. The same phrases. The same motions.

  Further down, at the training square, other youths sparred in rhythm. Kael watched them for a moment. Their movements were precise. Clean. Rehearsed. Like actors repeating a role.

  He had been told to join them. He was one of the selected. An honor, they said. A duty.

  But he didn’t go. Not really. Sometimes he watched. From a distance.

  This tournament… made no sense.

  “Kael! You’re late for prep!”

  It was the baker’s son, grinning, vanishing into the crowd.

  A perfect day.

  Flawless order.

  A lie polished to obsession.

  Kael walked the central path, beneath arches etched with sacred glyphs. He didn’t linger. He used to admire them. Now he knew they spoke to no one. Empty relics.

  At the village center stood the Obelisk of Breath, a tall white pillar veined with soft blue light. Later, during the ceremony, the Elders would place their hands upon it and recite the First Oath:

  *We breathe because They allow it.*

  Kael could no longer say those words.

  He continued toward the overlook above the sector’s edge. From there, the curvature of the Dome became visible. Through the reinforced glass, he could see a sliver of space.

  The stars were invisible during the day cycle. The Dome filtered them out.

  But sometimes… when the sensors lost sync… a spark broke through.

  And on those days, he felt real.

  He sat. And waited.

  A celebration drone passed overhead, releasing silver dust. Music swelled from the village speakers. Voices lifted in harmony.

  He didn’t turn back.

  Because the sky blinked.

  Just once. A flicker. A tremble in the light. The sun wavered. The air dimmed to dusk. Then—everything returned to normal.

  No alarms. No reaction.

  But Kael had seen it.

  He stood slowly, every sense on edge. Around him, the villagers continued their cheerful theater. Laughter. Songs. Dances. If anyone else had noticed the breach, they showed nothing.

  He turned away. Headed toward the central pillar.

  A chill ran down his spine. Something long forgotten was surfacing. An image. A phrase.

  His mother, long ago, as he lay half-asleep:

  *One day, the sky will forget how to lie.

  When that day comes… listen to your breath. Not theirs.*

  ---------

  Thank you for reading Chapter 1.

  Have you seen the blink too?

  If so… welcome beneath the Dome.

  *— The Architect of the Dome*