Shadows of Earth

CHAPTER 1 Omega looked nothing like the world humans once feared losing. In the year 3020, the land stretched endlessly—lush plantations stitched together by rivers of green. Fields rolled into pastures, gardens spilled into workspaces, barns stood beside sleek structures of steel and glass. Life thrived here, deliberately cultivated, carefully guarded. Every leaf mattered. Earth no longer answered to its old name. It was Omega now. Five hundred years earlier, an outcast race from Mars—the Alcan—had done what no one thought possible. They had taken over Earth, not with endless war, but with strategy, alliance, and patience. Mars was barren, unable to grow vegetation, and Earth became its lifeline. Plants were exported at a price so high it reshaped power itself. With the help of the Jones family—wealthy humans who handed over land in exchange for influence—the Alcan formed a single government. Borders dissolved. Poverty faded into history books. Discrimination became an offense, not a norm. Wars stopped. Omega was sold to the world as perfection. At Minze University, that perfection flickered across a projector screen. Images of war filled the lecture room—cities in flames, bodies scattered like discarded history, skies choked with smoke. Standing calmly before them was Ice. At 605 human years, he looked younger than the truth allowed. An Alcan president who had ruled for over two centuries, Ice carried himself with an unsettling ease. Long black hair fell freely down his back, framing a face both beautiful and unreadable. He wore white pajamas and house slippers, as though power had become so ordinary he no longer needed armor. “These days were a horror,” Ice said evenly, his voice quiet but commanding. “It has been five hundred years since this happened. Peace has made Omega the complete haven it is today.” The room hummed with attention. Marsian and human females alike watched him with admiration—some openly, some cautiously, as if loving him felt dangerous. The door creaked open. James Bullock walked in like he didn’t care who noticed. He was tall, fit, handsome in a way that felt sharp rather than soft. A plain T-shirt and jeans clung to restless energy, to anger that had nowhere to go. He didn’t hesitate or apologize for being late. He took a seat at the very front, dropped into it, and stared up at Ice with open defiance. “It isn’t a haven,” James said, his voice cutting clean through the room, “if there’s no democracy.” A ripple of unease moved through the students. Ice turned slowly, eyes settling on James without surprise. “We do have democracy, Mr. Bullock.” James laughed, short and bitter. “Democracy means choosing our way of life. Choosing our leader. You’ve been president for over two hundred years. Power has stayed in Marsian hands ever since you creatures invaded our planet.” The word creatures hung in the air. Ice said nothing. Silence swallowed the room. Students shifted in their seats, unsure whether to breathe. Fear was subtle in Omega—but it still existed. Finally, Ice spoke. “Sometimes choice is our rival,” he said calmly. “As I was demonstrating before you arrived. Since our arrival, there have been no wars. This planet has never been more untainted.” James leaned back. “So we should be grateful for our captivity.” Ice’s lips twitched—not quite a smile. “I would love to stay and argue with you, James. But it’s lunch time. I’m sure everyone is dying to leave. I’ll see you all on Monday.” Chairs scraped back instantly. Students poured out of the room, relief loud in their footsteps. James stood last. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he turned—only to collide with someone at the door. Nella. She was tall and thin, almost fragile in appearance, with pale skin and long brown hair that fell loose around her shoulders. She wore an old black dress, worn soft with age, like it carried stories she refused to explain. “If you won’t apologize for getting in my way,” she said coolly, meeting his stare, “you might as well step aside and let me through.” James did as told, his gaze lingering on her with open desire. Nella ignored him completely, walking straight toward Ice. Ice froze. Shock flickered across his face before he masked it. “Hello,” Nella said, steady despite the tension in her chest. “My name is Nella—” “So Uwe let you leave Parosh,” Ice interrupted. Her eyes widened. “How do you know he’s my father?” “I just know.” Ice began packing his books into his bag. “How can I help you?” “I need accommodation,” she said, the words rushed now. “I don’t know anyone in Minze. Or anywhere else.” Ice moved toward the door. Nella followed. Peter stepped inside just as they reached the exit. He was Marsian—disciplined, stern, dressed in uniform. Short black hair, sharp eyes. The head of the secret service. A reminder that Ice was never truly alone. “Why should I offer accommodation to an escapee?” Ice said coolly. “Go home. Your father must be worried.” “My father knows I’m here,” Nella snapped. “I’m not a child. I’m twenty years old, and I refuse to spend my life rotting away in oblivion.” Ice paused. “Good luck in your discoveries.” He stepped forward. Nella stepped into his path. “It’s your duty,” she said, voice trembling now, “as my father’s father.” Ice stiffened. “Your father renounced me.” “When you adopted him,” she said quietly, “you became family. You owe it to me. Please. Just give me two months to settle into this town. I’ll leave your home after.” Ice looked to Peter. Peter nodded once. Ice exhaled, defeated by something older than power. “Follow me.” And just like that, the balance of Omega shifted—though none of them knew it yet.