The Singularity Seed

Describe an ancient superweapon that wiped out its creators

The world groaned beneath them.

A fissure split the plain where they stood, magma welling through the wound like blood from a dying beast. What remained of mountains slumped inward. The air tasted of iron and smoke—ashes of cities ground into dust.

Argentum knelt before the Singularity Seed.

It rested atop a slab of blackened stone, no larger than a palm and shaped like an almond smoothed by centuries. Innocuous. Weightless. A quiet thing that had once held an entire world in balance.

Gessorra approached last. Her claws clicked sharply over fractured earth as she stared at the Seed with something between fury and grief. “It used to be our hope,” she whispered.

The moment her voice touched the air, memory surged—

Flash:

The Seed being lowered into its cradle at the heart of a great spire.

A pulse of soft light radiating outward, catching in a thousand crystalline panels.

Cities igniting with power.

Storms calming at the edge of the continent.

A generation living beyond their natural span, laughing under new suns.

The memory shattered under the weight of present ruin.

Ash exhaled shakily, wings half-drawn as if to shield himself from what he remembered. He didn’t speak. None of them needed to say what came next—

Flash:

A shriek of alarms.

A shudder in the containment lattice.

The gentle pulse turning hungry, folding inward, then outward, too fast.

A white-hot bloom at the core of the capital—

and then the horizon curving wrong, collapsing as if the world were folding like paper.

Voices cut off mid-breath.

Silence.

The ground beneath them lurched. Another fragment of the crust gave way and fell into the molten glow below. The Seed remained perfectly still.

Argentum reached for it, then stopped. His hand trembled. Even burned and dying, the Seed’s surface remained cool—as if it had never touched catastrophe at all.

He looked to the others.

Wordlessly, the three extended their hands, each unwilling to bear the weight alone. Together—they lifted it. Its lightness was unbearable.

Far below, the exposed core pulsed weakly.

Gessorra’s throat tightened. “Let our world’s heart be its tomb.”

They carried the Singularity Seed to the edge of the vast rupture. Heat rose in shimmering waves. The molten glow reflected faintly off the Seed’s surface, making it seem almost alive again.

For an instant—

a flicker of what once was.

A younger world.

A brighter future.

A creation meant to uplift, not to destroy.

Argentum closed his eyes as they let it fall.

The Seed slipped soundlessly into the world’s core. The magma swallowed it whole. No flash. No pulse. Only the slow, heavy exhale of a planet nearing its final breath.

Ash lifted his gaze to the thinning sky. Stars shone through, cold and distant.

“There is nothing left here,” he said softly.

Gessorra touched the edge of the fissure one last time—a farewell to the home they had failed to save.

Argentum spread his wings. “Then we go.”

Together, the last three survivors of a shattered civilization rose from the cracked, bleeding world and flew toward the waiting dark—seeking a place where hope might one day take root again.