It all began during a deep field survey near the Eridanus Supervoid—a vast, almost mythic region of space known for its mysterious cold spots and unusually low galaxy density. While calibrating infrared sensors for a galaxy-mapping project, the James Webb Telescope picked up an anomaly that was too symmetrical to be natural, yet too chaotic to be artificial. Instead of seeing distant galaxies or interstellar gas, the telescope detected a perfect circle of silence. No light escaped it. No light bent around it. This wasn’t gravitational lensing—it was more like an interruption in the fabric of the universe itself. Picture dropping ink into a still glass of water and watching the water vanish instead. That’s what the data showed. An area not just void of matter, but void of physical law. Initial theories suggested it might be a previously unknown type of black hole, but the mass calculations didn’t add up. There was no x-ray emission. No gravitational ripple. Just a cold, dark region of utter stillness that made absolutely no sense. And then, over the course of several days, the perimeter of that object began to fluctuate—not like a celestial body in orbit—but like something… breathing.
