Late at night in the flickering darkness of the underground cells, Evan lay awake, ribs bruised, the metallic tang of blood still on his tongue. He had long lost track of time—just a cycle of fighting, eating, and surviving. Faces came and went. Names, too. All except one.
Rask.
The old gladiator still lived. Still talked. He had one eye now—but he looked more alive than half the newcomers.
A small fire cracked in a rusted drum nearby. Rask leaned back against the stone wall, flask in hand.
"You ever wonder what's out there, kid?" he said with a raspy chuckle.
"Stars burn the same on every world. Doesn't matter if you're sitting on a throne or knee-deep in your own piss. Stars don't care. They just watch. Like gods that gave up."
Evan said nothing. Rask grinned anyway.
"Let me tell you a story. I'm a good storyteller. Don't look so grumpy."
He took a swig and began.
"Before the clans rose, there were no kings—just chaos. Back then, people spliced DNA with anything that breathed—or didn't. They called it survival. Some got power. Others went mad. And some just stopped being human altogether."
He spat into the fire. It hissed and popped.
"Then came the clans. Took what was left and forged empires. Said they were saviors. Ha! Maybe they were. I believed that once. Now I know—they were just the first to crawl out of the ashes and scream loud enough."
Rask's voice dropped low as others nearby drifted to sleep.
"You've heard of them. The three that rule everything:"
Kaelyth - "Masters of mind and soul. They dominate thoughts, twist memories, rewrite truth like ink on paper. They can bend beasts—or people—with a glance. Some say their elders can raise the dead… or at least, their memories. Living illusions. Soul-bound puppets."
Varnexus - "Alchemists of the impossible. They don't just move things—they change them. Turn dust into steel, breath into acid, thought into fire. They create, destroy, and reshape the universe like sculptors of reality."
Aetherion - "Time. Space. Infinity. The Aetherions walk through dimensions like doorways. They don't age. They don't die. They see things others can't… and go places no one else dares. Some say they mapped the universe. Others say they walked beyond it."
"And that's not even counting the clans beneath them."
He paused.
"Together, those three? They could rewrite the laws of the cosmos. That's why the rest of the galaxy bows—or burns."
A scoff came from a nearby cell. Rask ignored it.
"You think that kind of power makes them better? Nah. It just gives them more ways to bleed the stars dry."
He turned back to Evan.
"Hey kid, what's your name anyway?"
Evan didn't answer.
Rask chuckled. "Alright then. Kid it is."
He took another swig, then grew quiet, eyes reflecting firelight.
"Out past the rim, there's monsters. Real ones. Born from the old wars. I fought one once—twelve arms, spines like turbines. It still screams in my dreams."
Another drink. Not water.
"You heard of the Ghost Division? No? They were people once. Now? Just silence and screams."
Rask leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper.
"And Prometheus… this place? It ain't a prison. It's a wound."
The cell grew still.
"Some say the planet was forged as punishment. Others say something's buried here. Me? I think it's alive. I think it listens. I think it remembers every scream that ever touched its soil."
Evan stirred. "Watches us? Where'd you hear that?"
But Rask was already lost in the rhythm of his monologue.
"I've seen gladiators burn through walls. One guy even grew wings—until they shot him down with a gravity round."
"No one leaves Prometheus. But…"
He glanced sideways at Evan.
"…sometimes the planet gives you something back. Not a way out—but a weapon or a purpose"
Evan remained silent, but Rask noticed the flicker in his eyes—and smiled.
He leaned back again, voice fading like an old hymn.
"I tell these stories because they're all we got. Memories of a galaxy that forgot us. Songs of blood and betrayal."
"But maybe... just maybe… someone will write a new story."
The fire cracked quietly.
"One with an ending."
And above them, the stars didn't blink.