📻 BBN Transmission Log
Date: December 26, 1 BC - January 1, 1 AC
Location: Global
Civilization: Western Kingdom and Eastern Empire
Event Type: Natural/Cultural/Geological
Story Arc: The Comet's Return - Part Five
⬅️ Previous: Bad Omen: The Watchers in Shadow
➡️ Next: [Coming Soon (02.10.2025) - Subscribe for Updates]
📚 Series Hub: Complete chapter list and series info
Previously: As December of 1 BC approached, both civilizations prepared for war following the Empire's assassination of Queen Marina. Five-year-old Crown Princess Lyra ruled the Kingdom with regents while the Astral Observers, sensing cosmic danger from the strange pulsing star, initiated their Great Concealment to preserve astronomical knowledge. Neither civilization suspected that events on December 26th would render all human conflicts insignificant.
The Day the Heavens Fell
On the twenty-sixth day of the twelfth month, 1 BC, the comet that had visited Novus thrice before returned for a fourth and final time. Unlike its previous passages, this approach brought it catastrophically close to the planet's atmosphere. At precisely noon, as recorded by both Kingdom timepieces and the hidden instruments of the Astral Observers, the celestial visitor began its fatal descent.
The comet entered Novus's atmosphere with a brilliance that turned day into blinding white. For seventeen seconds, two suns appeared to burn in the sky. Then came the explosion.
Directly above the Eastern Empire's capital, at an altitude later calculated by surviving Astral Observers to be approximately thirty miles, the comet detonated with a force beyond human comprehension. The initial flash was visible from every corner of both civilizations, burning shadows into stone walls hundreds of miles away. The mushroom cloud that followed rose sixty miles into the stratosphere, its crown spreading like a dark umbrella over the entire continent.
The shockwave arrived next. Moving at twice the speed of sound, it flattened everything on the eastern side of Novus. The Empire's grand capital, with its towering monuments to divine emperors, was reduced to rubble in seconds. The Palace of Eternal Light collapsed into ruins, its great dome crashing down upon the throne room where, by miraculous fortune, Emperor Marcus had stepped into the palace's ancient underground shrine moments before—a fortified chamber built by the first emperors, its walls inscribed with protective prayers. Ancient temples that had stood for millennia were swept away like sand castles before a tide. Cities throughout the Empire's territories experienced varying degrees of devastation based on their distance from ground zero—those within two hundred miles were completely destroyed, while settlements five hundred miles away lost most of their buildings to the unstoppable wall of compressed air.
The great desert that had served as the Empire's natural eastern barrier was transformed into a sea of glass where the heat had fused the sand. The hidden observatory of the Astral Observers, built deep underground, survived the initial blast, though many of their surface camouflaged entrances were sealed by the flowing glass above.
The Crystal Rain
While the Empire bore the brunt of the explosion's immediate devastation, the Western Kingdom faced a different fate. The comet's destruction had scattered its remains across the upper atmosphere, and these fragments began their own descent. Unlike typical meteorites that burn up during atmospheric entry, these pieces carried something unprecedented—a form of cosmic radiation that had crystallized during the explosion.
The debris fell as a rain of crystals, ranging in size from dust motes to boulders. The smaller fragments created a spectacular light show that lasted three days and nights, turning the sky into a canvas of shooting stars. But the crystals that survived the descent brought transformation rather than destruction.
These cosmic crystals, glowing with an inner light that pulsed like a heartbeat, landed throughout the Kingdom's territories. They embedded themselves in soil, splashed into rivers and lakes, and struck buildings and living creatures alike. Upon contact with organic matter, they exhibited a property that defied all known science—they dissolved and merged with whatever they touched, their cosmic radiation integrating at a cellular level.
The largest intact crystal, a translucent shard the size of a carriage, crashed through the roof of the Western Kingdom's Royal Palace. By terrible fortune—or perhaps cosmic design—it struck the throne room where young Crown Princess Lyra was holding court with her regents. The massive crystal hit the Princess directly, and witnesses reported that rather than crushing her, it seemed to flow into her small form like water into a sponge. The child absorbed the entire crystal in seconds, her body glowing with an intensity that forced everyone to shield their eyes. When the light faded, Lyra had collapsed into what appeared to be a deep sleep from which she could not be awakened.
The Transformation
The twenty-seventh day brought revelations that challenged every understanding of natural law. Throughout the Western Kingdom, those who had been exposed to the crystal radiation began to change. The mutations occurred rapidly, often completing within hours, and affected every living thing the crystals had touched—humans, animals, and plants alike.
The transformations were not random. Families living near forests found themselves growing bark-like skin and leaves from their hair, becoming what would later be called dryads or tree-folk. Coastal communities saw their people develop scales and gills, able to breathe both air and water—the first merfolk. Some grew smaller, their features becoming delicate and otherworldly, with translucent wings sprouting from their backs—the fairy folk. Others increased in stature and bulk, their skin hardening to stone-like consistency—the birth of giants and trolls.
The mountains produced their own variations. Miners who had been underground when the crystals fell found themselves shrinking but gaining incredible density and strength—the dwarven race. Those who had been at higher altitudes developed hollow bones and functional wings—harpies and bird-folk. Even those who maintained mostly human appearance discovered pointed ears and enhanced senses—the elven peoples.
Young Crown Princess Lyra's transformation was perhaps the most subtle yet significant. As the cosmic energy from the massive crystal coursed through her small body, witnesses later reported that her features refined and sharpened. Her ears elongated to delicate points, her already youthful features became almost ethereal in their symmetry, and her skin took on a faint luminescent quality. She had become what would be recognized as an elf—maintaining her essentially human form but enhanced with an otherworldly grace. The golden glow that emanated from her sleeping form seemed to pulse in rhythm with her dramatically slowed heartbeat.
Animals underwent similar radical changes. Horses grew horns and developed intelligence approaching human levels—the first unicorns. Wolves in certain regions doubled in size and gained the ability to understand human speech. Some birds became phoenixes, literally burning and reforming from their own ashes. Plants grew at accelerated rates, with some developing mobility and carnivorous tendencies.
The Academy of Natural Philosophy, which had been the Kingdom's premier scientific institution, found its entire understanding of biology overturned in a single day. Their carefully maintained taxonomies became obsolete as species barriers dissolved and reformed in entirely new configurations.
The Discovery of Magic
By the twenty-eighth day, the transformed populations discovered that physical changes were only part of their metamorphosis. The cosmic radiation had unlocked something that the Academy's scientists could only describe as "violation of thermodynamic principles"—the ability to manipulate energy and matter through will alone.
A former blacksmith found he could shape metal with his hands without heat. A baker discovered she could cause bread to rise and bake by touching it. Children played with balls of light they conjured from thin air. Farmers made crops grow to maturity in minutes. These abilities, quickly termed "magic" for lack of a better word, varied by individual and seemed connected to both their transformations and their pre-change occupations or interests.
The Kingdom's scholars, those who had survived the transformation with their mental faculties intact, began documenting these abilities with the same rigor they had once applied to natural sciences. They established that the magic followed certain patterns and limitations—energy had to come from somewhere, either the user's own body or the environment. Greater effects required greater costs. Some individuals showed natural affinity for certain types of magic based on their transformed nature.
Young Crown Princess Lyra remained in her comatose state throughout these discoveries, her body radiating a soft golden light that never dimmed. The royal physicians, themselves transformed into various races, could detect life signs but could not wake her. Her breathing was so slow as to be almost imperceptible—one breath every hour. Her heartbeat matched this glacial pace. Yet she showed no signs of deterioration, as if time itself had slowed around her.
The Observers' Relief Mission
On the twenty-ninth day, while both civilizations struggled to comprehend the new reality, the Astral Observers emerged from their hidden sanctuaries. Their preparation for cosmic catastrophe, mocked by many as paranoid delusion, now proved prescient. Their stockpiled supplies of food, medicine, and sealed water sources untouched by crystal radiation became invaluable resources.
Led by Master Observer Claudius, an elderly scholar who had dedicated forty years to studying celestial mechanics, the Observers made a crucial decision. Despite the risk of persecution, they would reveal themselves to provide aid. They understood that the cosmic radiation from the crystals had fundamentally altered the chemistry of water and soil in affected areas, making much of the existing food and water potentially dangerous to unchanged humans.
The Observers established relief stations at the borders between the devastated Empire and the transformed Kingdom. They distributed their carefully preserved supplies to Empire survivors fleeing westward and to Kingdom citizens struggling to understand their new forms. Their knowledge of astronomy and mathematics proved invaluable in calculating safe zones and predicting where delayed crystal falls might still occur.
In the Empire's ruins, Observer teams worked to rescue survivors trapped in collapsed buildings. They used their hidden tunnels and underground passages to navigate the devastated landscape, avoiding the areas where the sand had turned to radioactive glass. Their medical knowledge, while limited against radiation poisoning, provided comfort to the dying and hope to those who might recover.
The New Calendar
As the year turned from 1 BC to what would become 1 AC on the first day of the new year, representatives from both civilizations—or what remained of them—met at an Observer relief station near the former border. The meeting was unprecedented: Empire survivors stripped of their superiority complex by devastation, transformed Kingdom citizens still learning to control their new abilities, and the Observers serving as neutral mediators.
Master Observer Claudius proposed what would become the new temporal standard. "The world that existed before the twenty-sixth day is gone," he stated simply. "We stand at the beginning of a new age. Let us mark time accordingly."
Thus was established the After Comet calendar, with the year 1 BC ending naturally on its final day and the new year beginning as Year 1 AC—After Comet. The twenty-sixth day of the twelfth month would become known as Comet Day, observed throughout the land as a memorial to the transformation, while the calendar itself transitioned with the natural new year.
The Immediate Aftermath
In the first week of 1 AC, the scale of transformation became clear. The Eastern Empire had been devastated but not destroyed. Of its population of eight million, approximately three million survived the initial blast, though many bore injuries or suffered from exposure to the strange energies released. Emperor Marcus, emerging from the palace shrine three days after the impact, found his capital in ruins but his divine authority intact among the survivors. His survival, when so many had perished, was seen by his followers as proof of his divine nature—though privately, the Emperor knew it had been mere chance that led him to the shrine at that crucial moment. Most survivors were from the western provinces, far enough from the explosion to escape immediate death but still suffering from radiation exposure that would claim many in the coming months.
The Empire's rigid social hierarchy bent but did not break. Emperor Marcus moved quickly to restore order, proclaiming that the comet had been a test from the heavens—one that the faithful had survived while the weak had perished. Some military units that maintained discipline became the core of the reconstruction effort. The capital would need to be rebuilt, but the Empire would endure, though changed. The strange energies from the blast had left many survivors weakened, and disturbing reports began to emerge of fertility problems among the population—a curse that would haunt the Empire for generations.
The Western Kingdom faced different challenges. While deaths from the crystal rain were relatively few—perhaps ten thousand from direct impacts—the entire population of three million had been fundamentally altered. Former neighbors could no longer recognize each other. Families found themselves composed of different species. The established social order, based on hereditary nobility and academic achievement, suddenly had to account for citizens who could fly, breathe water, or lift boulders with their minds.
The Kingdom's infrastructure, designed for humans of standard size and capabilities, became problematic overnight. Giants could not fit through doorways. Fairies could not operate machinery designed for human-sized hands. Merfolk needed water access to survive comfortably. The capital city's careful urban planning became obsolete as citizens with wings built homes in previously inaccessible cliff faces and tree-dwelling races established communities in the canopy of urban parks.
The Sleeping Princess
Crown Princess Lyra's condition became a rallying point for the transformed Kingdom. The regents, themselves changed into various forms—Lord Regent Aldrich had become a bear-like creature while Lady Regent Cordelia transformed into something resembling a giant owl—maintained governmental continuity by declaring that Lyra still lived and would one day wake to rule her people.
The Princess was moved to the highest tower of the palace, which had partially collapsed from the crystal impact but was hastily reinforced with magic—one of the first major collaborative uses of the new abilities. Her chamber became a shrine of sorts, with citizens making pilgrimages to see their sleeping ruler. The soft golden glow that emanated from her body was visible for miles at night, serving as a beacon of hope.
Royal physicians and magical theorists—a new profession that emerged from the ranks of transformed scholars—studied her condition extensively. They determined that she had absorbed more cosmic radiation than any other living being, potentially thousands of times the typical amount. Her body seemed to be processing this energy slowly, like a cocoon preparing for an unprecedented metamorphosis.
The First Magical Conflicts
By the end of the first week of 1 AC, the initial cooperation born from shared crisis began to fracture. In the Kingdom, disputes arose between different transformed races over resources and territory. Fire-affiliated beings clashed with water-dwellers over riverside settlements. Flying races claimed air rights over terrestrial citizens' property. The discovery that some individuals possessed significantly more magical power than others created new hierarchies that conflicted with traditional authority.
The first magical duel occurred on the eighth day of 1 AC, when two transformed merchants—one who could manipulate stone, another who controlled plants—fought over salvage rights to a crystal impact site. The battle lasted only minutes but devastated three city blocks, demonstrating the destructive potential of unchecked magical combat. The regents quickly established the First Laws of Magic, primitive regulations attempting to control the use of these new abilities in populated areas.
In the Empire's ruins, different conflicts emerged. Unchanged survivors viewed the Astral Observers with a mixture of gratitude and suspicion. Some military commanders accused them of somehow causing the catastrophe through their celestial observations. Desperate groups attempted to raid Observer supply caches, leading to violent confrontations. The Observers, committed to pacifism, often retreated rather than fight, abandoning valuable resources to preserve lives.
The Migration Begins
By the tenth day of 1 AC, large-scale population movements had begun. Empire survivors, facing starvation and radiation in their homeland, started a massive westward migration toward the Kingdom. This exodus, later known as the Great Flight, would eventually encompass over a million people—the largest forced migration in Novus's recorded history.
The Kingdom faced an impossible choice. Their transformed citizens felt sympathy for the refugees but feared the social chaos of integrating a million unchanged humans into their rapidly evolving magical society. Some argued that exposure to residual crystal radiation might transform the refugees, making integration easier. Others worried about diluting their newfound magical abilities or facing persecution from those who viewed the transformations as curses rather than gifts.
The Astral Observers proposed a solution: establishment of refugee settlements in the border regions, areas with minimal crystal radiation where Empire survivors could maintain their human forms while gradually adapting to the new world. These settlements would serve as buffer zones and cultural bridges between the magical Kingdom and the devastated Empire.
The Search for Understanding
The transformation forced the Kingdom's scholars to reconsider everything they thought they knew about the natural world. The Academy of Natural Philosophy, working with the revealed Astral Observers, struggled to document and categorize the changes using the tools and concepts available to them. Without the advanced mathematics or systematic methods that would come in later ages, they could only observe and record, creating detailed catalogs of transformations and magical effects.
The Observers contributed their centuries of hidden astronomical records, carefully maintained charts showing that the comet's visits had grown more frequent—appearing after 450 years, then 300, then 150. Using their bronze instruments and careful observations, they had tracked its path across the heavens. The strange pulsing star observed before impact remained a mystery, though some Observers believed it had been an omen of the comet's final approach.
In the Empire, Emperor Marcus declared that attempting to understand the comet's nature was blasphemy—it had been a divine act, not something for mortal minds to comprehend. This decree would slow scientific progress in the Empire for centuries, even as the Kingdom's transformed citizens began their own crude experiments with their new abilities.
Spiritual Responses
The comet's impact prompted varied spiritual responses across both civilizations. In the Empire, Emperor Marcus moved quickly to control the narrative. The destruction was not a failure of divine protection but a cleansing fire sent by the heavens. Those who survived had been chosen; those who perished had been found wanting. The Emperor's survival in the ancient shrine became central to this theology—he had been preserved by divine will to lead the Empire's rebirth. This interpretation, enforced by imperial decree, helped maintain order among the survivors, though private doubts flourished.
In the Kingdom, lacking central religious authority, numerous small cults emerged among the transformed populations. Some viewed the changes as blessings, others as curses. The Church of Cosmic Blessing attracted those happy with their new forms, while the Order of Restoration drew those who yearned for their lost humanity. A growing number began venerating the sleeping Princess Lyra, seeing her extended slumber as a sign of divine transformation.
The Astral Observers, finally free to practice their observations openly in the Kingdom, offered no spiritual interpretation. They simply recorded what they saw: the comet had come, the world had changed, and now all must adapt to survive.
The First Winter
As 1 AC progressed into its first winter, both civilizations faced unprecedented challenges. The Kingdom discovered that many transformed races had different temperature tolerances. Reptilian races entered involuntary hibernation. Plant-based beings required artificial light to photosynthesize. Ice-affiliated races thrived while fire-touched citizens suffered.
The Empire's survivors faced worse conditions. Nuclear winter effects from the impact dust blocked sunlight, dropping temperatures to record lows. Crops failed. Animals died. The radioactive glass desert created strange weather patterns, generating devastating sandstorms that spread contamination. Observer estimates suggested that without aid, no Empire survivors would last through winter.
This crisis forced the Kingdom to make a momentous decision. Despite fears about integration, they opened their borders to Empire refugees fleeing the devastated regions. Meanwhile, Emperor Marcus worked to consolidate control over the Empire's surviving territories, establishing new settlements in the less damaged western provinces while planning the eventual reconstruction of the capital. The Empire would endure, though weakened and facing an uncertain future with its mysterious fertility curse. The transformed races, drawing on newfound magical abilities, worked together to create heated shelters, grow food in impossible conditions, and purify contaminated water. This first winter, known as the Winter of Mercy, established precedents for inter-species cooperation that would define the new age.
Conclusion: The Dawn of a New Era
As the first year After Comet drew to a close, the world of Novus bore no resemblance to what had existed before December 26, 1 BC. The Eastern Empire lay in radioactive ruins, its surviving population scattered as refugees. The Western Kingdom had become a patchwork of magical races, each struggling to find their place in an impossible new reality. Between them, the Astral Observers had emerged as mediators and knowledge-keepers, their centuries of hidden wisdom finally serving its purpose.
Crown Princess Lyra remained in her crystal-induced slumber, a living symbol of transformation's ultimate potential. The regents proclaimed that she would sleep until the world was ready for her awakening, though privately they wondered if she would ever wake at all. Magical theorists calculated that at her current rate of energy processing, she might sleep for centuries.
The comet that had visited Novus four times had delivered its final message: evolution need not be gradual. In a single day, it had ended one chapter of planetary history and begun another. The age of competing human empires was over. The age of magic had begun.
The transformation would continue for generations. Magical abilities would strengthen and diversify. New races would emerge from continued mutations. Conflicts between magical and non-magical populations would spark wars and genocides. But on that first New Year's Day of 1 AC, as survivors of both civilizations worked together to distribute Observer supplies and establish refugee camps, there was hope that from cosmic catastrophe might emerge something greater than what was lost.
The Astral Observers, in their final report of the year, wrote: "We observed the heavens seeking knowledge. The heavens have answered by transforming our very nature. We are no longer merely observers of the cosmos—we have become part of its grand design. The Empire endures under its Emperor, the Kingdom transforms into something unprecedented, and we stand between them as witnesses to this new age."
Historical Note: The events of December 26, 1 BC marked the single most significant turning point in Novus's history. Archaeological evidence from the period shows a clear geological layer of crystallized cosmic radiation, allowing precise dating of sites to before or after The Comet. The Eastern Empire would slowly rebuild over the coming centuries, though the fertility curse afflicting its population would limit its growth. The transformed Western Kingdom would develop into an entirely new form of civilization. Princess Lyra's tower still stands, though whether she remains within it, still sleeping after five hundred years as legend claims, cannot be confirmed by this chronicle.
📡 End of Historical Transmission
Oliver here - Fascinating period in this world's development! Our historical frequency archives are picking up significant resonance from these events. The ripple effects of what you just read will influence countless future chronicles. What aspects of this era do you find most intriguing? Fellow dimensional historians in the comments are already debating the implications...