The Puppetry Institute

Before time had a name, the Eternix Wyrmms wove reality.

Not just one reality—all of them. Multiverses, timelines, branching possibilities, wild what-ifs and barely-born dreams—they stitched it all together in an endless, shimmering web. Born of light and rhythm, each Wyrmm fluttered briefly into existence, burning with the energy of entire galaxies, and then—faded.

But that was the way. One Wyrmm burned out, and a new hatchling emerged from the Eggspire, their crystalline egg plucked from the birthing stars and set among the cosmos to grow, to glow, to take their place. The cycle had lasted longer than memory itself.

Until the ICCI.

A soul-flattening, profit-hungry corporate entity from the outskirts of the 12th Cluster, ICCI (Interdimensional Cryogenic Capture and Containment INC) discovered the Wyrmm hatchlings during a Reality Tourism expedition. They weren’t interested in balance or fate or magic. They were interested in rarity. In brand value. And nothing sold like divine extinction.

They stole all the hatchling eggs. Every single one. Froze them. Packaged them in shimmering tubes. Labeled them as “Ultra-Rare Temporal Artifacts.” And scattered them across their CryoZoos in fringe dimensions, where jaded multiverse billionaires could sip gravity-folded cocktails and marvel at what they'd never understand.

With no new Wyrmms born, only one remained.

Varathos, once a swift and shimmering ribbon of raw force, now drifted like a tired old serpent across the seams of reality. He was enormous, ancient, slow. His scales—once alive with color—had dulled. His breath was low and pained. And the web he wove? It sagged, loosened. Holes formed.

And through those holes, chaos crept in.

Winds of unreality howled through stable worlds. Dinosaurs wept in skyscrapers. Entire planets looped through childhood and death in minutes. On Earth, people called it glitches, Mandela effects, déjà vu—never knowing the truth was a dragon unraveling in the dark.

But there was a prophecy.

It spoke of accidental adventurers—not heroes, not chosen ones, just people who stumbled sideways into destiny. From Earth, of all places. A world so young, so noisy, so chaotic—it was the last place the ICCI would expect trouble.

 

None of them knew what they were doing. But when reality itself hiccuped one afternoon—they happened upon the infamous Dr Elphias Mecurio. Who tasked them with returning the egg

And they had to get him home—before Varathos faded completely and the last threads of reality unraveled into dust and echo.

 

Far away, Varathos opened a single eye—like a dying star on the edge of breath—and felt something stir across the cosmos.

Hope.

The Eternix Wyrmms would rise again.

And chaos would tremble.