A mistake became death.
And now all the players in this region were moving at once.
The Dreadlight drifted like a broken memory.
The green ship came on like an omen wrapped in bark and runes.
The Xu fleet held its breath in stealth.
The Zerg closed in like a fist.
And beneath it all, Nexera waited.
Not unaware. Not unprepared. But still waiting, like a world that could feel the pressure building without yet knowing where it would break.
Back on Nexera, the night was gentle in ways space never was.
Wind moved through the mountain forests in long, patient breaths. Leaves rustled softly, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.
Waterfalls glimmered in moonlight, their steady roar distant and calming, as if nothing beyond the atmosphere could ever disturb them.
The lights of towers and sect-halls were scattered across the landscape like grounded stars. Some burned bright with activity.
