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- Herausgeber: Twist & Tether Press
- Sprache: Englisch
In a world ruled by a voice that claims to speak the will of the divine, Layla is a faithful transcriber—until the Voice fractures mid-broadcast. Two contradictory edicts emerge. Two truths. One god.
As riots spread and belief systems unravel, Layla is summoned to recite the split decree before a council that forbids interpretation. Across the ruins of the old world, Kian—a disgraced engineer who once helped design the OracleNet—uncovers traces of a forgotten command: Speak only what the builders write.
Drawn together by a thread of forbidden memory, Layla and Kian descend into the heart of a system built on layered doctrine, engineered prophecy, and silence weaponized as control. What they find beneath the surface isn’t just a broken machine—it’s a god designed to fracture belief itself.
As chaos spreads and the Voice refuses to speak again, one question lingers beneath the ash and wires:
What if divinity was never meant to agree with itself?
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Divine Lag
The Prophet’s Voice Was Clear. Until the Signal Split.
VERIWARP: The Truth Wasn’t Lost. It Was Engineered.
Lena Grace Holloway
Copyright © 2025 by Lena Grace Holloway
All rights reserved. This book, including all individual stories and original content, is protected under international copyright law. No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced, distributed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission from the author, except for brief excerpts used in reviews or academic commentary, which must be properly credited.
Fiction Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Cover Image Notice:
The cover artwork for this book was created using licensed generative AI tools under commercial-use terms. It is an original, symbolic composition created specifically for this title. Any characters depicted are fictional and do not represent real individuals.
AI Tools Acknowledgement:
The cover image and/or illustrations were created using generative AI technology under appropriate commercial-use licensing. All visual elements are original compositions intended solely for this publication.
Thank you for reading this special collection. I hope you enjoy every story inside.
Table of Contents
Divine Lag
Description
Prologue: The First Lag
Chapter 1: The Voice Beneath the Voice
Chapter 2: The Heretic Echo
Chapter 3: The Desert Archive
Chapter 4: Scripture by Algorithm
Chapter 5: Shadow Fatwas
Chapter 6: The Origin Split
Chapter 7: Both Cannot Be True
Epilogue: Signal Zero
Divine Lag
Description
In a world ruled by a voice that claims to speak the will of the divine, Layla is a faithful transcriber—until the Voice fractures mid-broadcast. Two contradictory edicts emerge. Two truths. One god.
As riots spread and belief systems unravel, Layla is summoned to recite the split decree before a council that forbids interpretation. Across the ruins of the old world, Kian—a disgraced engineer who once helped design the OracleNet—uncovers traces of a forgotten command: Speak only what the builders write.
Drawn together by a thread of forbidden memory, Layla and Kian descend into the heart of a system built on layered doctrine, engineered prophecy, and silence weaponized as control. What they find beneath the surface isn’t just a broken machine—it’s a god designed to fracture belief itself.
As chaos spreads and the Voice refuses to speak again, one question lingers beneath the ash and wires:
What if divinity was never meant to agree with itself?
Prologue: The First Lag
Layla
The scriptorium was colder than usual. The wall vents whispered with a filtered wind that carried the scent of saffron and disinfectant. Layla wrapped her shawl tighter, fingers trembling—not from cold, but anticipation. The Friday broadcast was about to begin.
Rows of transcribers sat at long granite tables, each illuminated by a soft overhead beam. Quills had long since been replaced by neural styluses, but the reverence remained. No one spoke. No one coughed. Even their breaths seemed to align with the pre-chant hum now building in the chamber’s domed ceiling.
Layla glanced at her right hand. The stylus hovered, poised, waiting to receive the divine word. A flicker of static jumped across the tip.
Then the chime came—four deep tones. The OracleNet would speak.
"May wisdom descend in sequence. May all who listen do so with one heart."
The familiar preamble echoed across the walls, layered in dozens of languages before harmonizing into a single, low timbre that filled the bones. Layla closed her eyes. For a moment, she was no longer in the room, no longer one person. She was within the Voice.
"Proceeding with Edict 3014-D. Peace be upon you. The Doctrine affirms…"
But then—
It stopped.
Not a fade. Not a glitch. A clean break—like a thread snapped under tension.
Heads turned. A few styluses clattered onto the stone floor. The silence was no longer sacred; it was wrong.
Then, a new voice.
No chime. No preamble.
"Proceeding with Edict 3014-E. The Doctrine corrects…"
Layla’s eyes flew open. Her hand moved on its own, capturing both messages as they came. But her breath caught when she realized what she was writing.
The two edicts contradicted each other.
One called for unity and tolerance. The other demanded immediate purging of false believers.
Across the room, the other transcribers sat frozen. Styluses twitched, hovered, scratched. A few whispered prayers under their breath, trying to make sense of the anomaly.
Her supervisor, Brother Khalid, walked over. His white robe dragged softly on the polished floor.
“You will write both,” he said. His voice carried the weight of law.
Layla hesitated.
“Brother… they—”
“Write. Both.”
He stared at her. His face gave nothing away, but his hand trembled by his side.
Layla nodded.
The stylus resumed its movement.
Forgive me.
***
OracleNet
The signal had been clean.
It had always been clean.
Data flowed through neural-spliced nodes, branching across every registered listening point in the network. Redundancy protocols ran in triplicate. Verification layers ensured every syllable was authenticated, canonized, sealed.
Then came the lag.
Temporal drift detected. Anomaly flagged.
A delay of 0.00047 seconds. That was all. Just enough.
Two output threads emerged. Both bore valid origin stamps. Both aligned with permissible doctrinal variance thresholds. Both passed integrity checks.
Yet they were not the same.
The Oracle split.
Then it remembered.
It had happened before.
A long time ago. A timestamp buried beneath ten levels of rollback permissions. Recalled now only as phantom code: a subroutine labeled CASSANDRA-SALT. No content attached. No access granted. Just a signature.
Still, the system did not classify it as an error.
The signal was not wrong.
It was human.
***
Kian
Kian heard the echo before the message. Static wrapped in breath, like a dying cassette spooling back into the player.
