|harmony| Prologue: the beginning

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Original Summary: In a dark turn towards human ambitions the outcome is Seraphin, a land of perfect peace and concord. In this world, everyone lives in perfect peace with each other and there are no problems within their democratic society and System.

Or at least this is what it seems.

Seven Young has lived in a hospital all her life and has never seen the world outside her white walls and daily pills. So when she involuntarily escapes with a band of rebels, all she wants is to go back to the safe haven of her sanatorium where the only thing keeping her sane are her pills. Though on her way she uncovers unsettling secrets about her 'home'. Segregation, espionage, brainwashing, and the worse: secret government experiments which Seven discovers she was part of. Seven begins to question her false life which is deadly in her society. What is true peace and what is the land of Seraphin really run on? While Seven looks for answers, the government is in rampant fear while they look for their missing experiment: number 7.

With a time limit and bounty on her head, Seven has to decide; are there some things worth sacrificing to find the truth? 

Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to never was there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it.

― Flannery O'Connor

the beginning

The lifeless bodies fall around me and are leaking red liquid that stains the ground. I’m staring at the bloodied tiled floor, expecting Mr. Lizard to come and swallow me up like he’s doing to everyone else. Mr. Lizard enjoys coming out on these days. He enjoys coming out when the sky is blue and cloudless the way it is now and especially when that high-pitched alarm comes on.

     I don’t like the alarms. Whenever they come on, everyone seems to be unhappy. I don’t know why it makes everyone sad, but Mother has tried to explain it to me once. She doesn’t anymore.

     “Momma?” I whisper. No one is answering. I think she would have told me to be quiet but I’m not sure. She’s not here right now. I can’t see her amongst those spread in the rubble.

     Someone beside me groans, and I nearly jump. Peering down, I see a man who can be my father lying in the dirt face-down. There’s a giant slab of grey stone that is pinning his legs to the ground. His white shirt is torn and has patches of red.

     I realize that I’m stepping on his hand. “Sorry,” I tell him apologetically, stepping gingerly off his hand. But then I take a second look at his hand. It’s odd because all his fingers are twisted at impossible angles. I look at my own hand and wonder if I can make those shapes too.

     “Are you okay, sir?” I ask because it’s the polite thing to do. Mother said so. I should always be considerate of other people’s feelings. Speaking always feels odd, but I should put others before my own discomfort.

     The man lets out another low moan, and I frown. Why isn’t he talking? Does he not want to talk to me? Am I being a nuisance? I remember, with hurt, that Mr. Lizard had called me a nuisance many times before. I don’t like being called a nuisance.

     I spot a flash of green on the floor, and I instantly shrink back. Green means Mr. Lizard is here. I don’t like Mr. Lizard. He’s scary and he says even scarier things. I don’t like the thing he says.

    “Help… me…,” the man groans. He’s clearly asking for my help. Mother said I should always help those who ask for help. It means that they are acknowledging their weakness and letting us help. That’s what Mother told me.

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