I’m a comic book lover, writer, and aficionado. I collect, read, and write comics basically all day. I really want to find a good artist that is looking to build a universe with me. I have many issues & episodes ready to go, with SO many more inside my head. Including Spin offs, prequels, & sequels. I posted the first three episodes on here to see if I get any reaction. Hopefully I find someone!
A world suspended between violent suns, wrapped in rings of molten debris and shimmering radiation. It was a brutal place to be born — but beautiful in its hostility.
Cities rose like cathedral spires carved from black crystal and bone-metal. Their architecture was angular and sacred, every tower inscribed with flowing geometric script that pulsed faintly in the planet’s thin atmosphere.
The Anunnaki were not born in softness.
They were forged.
Tall. Elongated. Radiant in structure. Their skin refracted light like dark opal. Their eyes were layered with protective membranes, evolved to endure the radiation storms that raked their skies.
They were a people of engineers and priests.
Of science and scripture.
On Nibiru, those were the same thing.
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For thousands of cycles, they thrived.
They learned to shape matter at the atomic level. They mastered stellar mathematics. They carved living glyphs into their machines so that their technology could think, respond, adapt.
They did not call it magic.
They called it understanding.
And they believed themselves eternal.
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Then the sky began to die.
It did not collapse in a single cataclysm.
It thinned.
Subtly.
Imperceptibly at first.
The upper atmosphere began to shred under cosmic radiation. Storms intensified. Magnetic shielding destabilized. Entire regions became uninhabitable.
Children were born with brittle lungs.
Crops failed.
The great sky-barriers flickered and fell.
Nibiru was suffocating.
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Their scientists discovered the truth long before their priests admitted it.
The atmospheric lattice — the delicate balance of charged particles that protected their world — required an element in large quantities to repair its structure.
Gold.
Not for adornment.
Not for wealth.
Gold had unique reflective and conductive properties capable of repairing atmospheric fissures at a planetary scale.
They had some.
But Not enough.
Their world required oceans of it.
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They searched their own solar system.
There was Too little.
Too scattered.
Too late.
Nibiru would die.
And with it, the Anunnaki.
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This was the moment they changed.
This was the moment fear replaced restraint.
Their High Council convened beneath a sky splitting open with radiation.
Holographic star maps flickered between them.
One world glowed brighter than the others.
Blue.
Alive.
Rich in gold deposits.
Ki(Earth)
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The debate lasted years.
There were those who argued:
“We are not conquerors.”
And there were those who replied:
“We will be corpses.”
Desperation won.
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They built the Descent Fleet.
Living ships inscribed with quantum glyph-script. Engines powered by condensed stellar cores. Hulls reinforced with adaptive black matter alloys.
They encoded their sacred texts into their machinery — because if they were to leave their dying world, they would not abandon their history.
When the first ships launched, Nibiru’s sky was already unraveling.
Families gathered at the launch spires.
They did not cheer.
They knelt.
Because they knew the truth.
If this failed…
There would be no return.
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The journey was long.
Long enough for bitterness to settle into bone.
Long enough for hope to decay into survival instinct.
Long enough for the Anunnaki to stop seeing themselves as pilgrims…
And start seeing themselves as inheritors.
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When they arrived at Ki(Earth), they did not see paradise.
They saw resources.
They saw atmospheric compatibility.
They saw vast gold veins running beneath tectonic plates.
They saw salvation.
And they told themselves:
“We will take only what we must.”
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But salvation has a way of growing.
They began with mining.
Then infrastructure.
Then labor shortages.
They engineered the Igigi — lesser gods designed for endurance and obedience.
The Igigi learned to question.
They rebelled.
The Anunnaki suppressed them.
And in their exhaustion, in their frustration, in their growing coldness…
They made humans.
Simpler.
More adaptable.
More replaceable.
Adamu was not an accident.
She was iteration.
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The Anunnaki did not become cruel overnight.
They became efficient.
Efficiency eroded empathy.
Empathy eroded identity.
Identity eroded memory.
And somewhere between saving their world and losing themselves…
They forgot to ask whether survival justified domination.
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Back on Nibiru, the atmosphere stabilized slowly as gold shipments arrived.
The skies thickened.
The radiation lessened.
Their children could breathe again.
They called it victory.
They did not call it invasion.
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But there was something they did not know.
Ki(Earth) was not unguarded.
The gold they mined was not unclaimed.
The veins they drilled into were not just mineral deposits…
They were seals.
Placed by a civilization older than the Anunnaki.
Older than their glyphs.
Older than their gods.
And every shipment of gold taken from Ki(Earth) weakened something far more dangerous than extinction.
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Back in the mines, beneath a sky turning red, a girl with molten veins stands in awakening.
