Elder Xiran stood atop the scorched observation deck of the Zelith command outpost, his pale gold eyes narrowing beneath his war-etched helm as Ruthen vanished into the bleeding shadow she had carved through half the complex. Smoke curled around the ruined floor where four Praetorium Guards lay dismembered—souls extinguished not by surprise, but by ruthlessly efficient violence.
One of the surviving guards, still panting from his run through collapsing corridors, stepped forward. "Elder Xiran, we must—"
"Silence," Xiran said, his voice calm as cracked ice. The air around him shifted with unnatural stillness.
The guard stopped mid-sentence, fear crawling into his throat.
"You will ensure Commander Vekra is retrieved and returned to the fleet," Xiran ordered coldly. "No delays. And Admiral Tyven is to be informed that Venter has been compromised. The enemy is inside the gates."
"Yes, Elder—"
"I am returning to the Cradle of Stars."
The other guards tensed, half-turning as the wind howled through the shattered walls. But then Xiran paused. A rare moment of stillness bloomed in him. Thought. Memory.
"Praetor Solan," Xiran said, without turning. A tall, black-armored guard stepped forward, gauntleted hand resting lightly on his disruptor pike.
"You will remain here."
Solan flinched.
"When the signal comes… you will open the Great Crypt. The time of secrets is over."
"But Elder, the Council—"
"This is my will."
Solan dropped to one knee. "Yes, Elder."
As Xiran strode away, the winds howled through the ruined sky like a lamentation for what was about to be unleashed.
Above Venter - Stealth Ship "Chime of Dread"
Ruthen stood in the ship's central command node, her massive, scarred form illuminated by flickering red alert lights. Her ritual scars shimmered faintly beneath her exposed flesh, and her bonded neural gauntlet clicked and hissed as it pulsed in sync with the dormant Thal'karn stasis pods.
She opened a secure line.
"Whisperer Vaelora," Ruthen said, kneeling in the darkness as the holographic form of her mistress formed before her, composed of elegant shadow and wreathed in psionic flame.
"The mission is complete. All systems compromised. Venter is yours to shatter."
Vaelora gave a faint smile. "You've done well, Ruthen. Begin return protocol."
Ruthen nodded. "The twins have been placed into stasis. I will join them now."
She rose, her massive form now slack with fatigue, but no less dangerous. With a final swipe across the command screen, the ship aligned its course for Vaelora's flagship, Voidspire.
Ruthen stepped into the final stasis pod. The lid sealed shut with a hiss, locking her in darkness as the ship silently cut through the void.
Orbit over Venter - The Opening Salvo
The skies cracked apart as thousands of Mahasimu vessels decloaked above Venter in perfect formation, their sleek black hulls raining down shadowfire and seismic torpedoes into the upper atmosphere.
Admiral Kia stood at the command pulpit of the Virex Dominatus, her eyes alight with blood-wrath. "Break their flanks. Show them the cost of defiance!"
Her flagship surged forward, followed by ten sub-fleets armed with stormriders and plasma-fanged drones. The Zelith defensive grid screamed to life—slicing a dozen ships from the stars—but too late to halt the descent.
On the ground, vast rupture-gates shimmered open as Vice General Tano descended amid roaring darkness. He stood atop his command platform, looming over endless formations of Shadowscourge—their obsidian armor dripping with null-venom, their blades forged in the heart of the Forge of Dread.
Beside him, great Scourgehounds—brutish hounds with razored limbs and sensory tendrils—howled for blood, while Thal'karn stomped forward, each one guided by an elite handler cloaked in ritual bindings and wielding psycho-shock whips. These were the Empire's true monsters, and they walked in ranks of thousands.
"Venter will burn," Tano declared, voice booming across the battlefield as landing pods erupted like black comets from the heavens. "For Queen Saumu!"
The earth shattered as the invasion began.
Cradle of Stars - Council Chamber
Meanwhile, the Zelith High Council chamber trembled with unrest.
"The Great Crypt," murmured one elder. "We cannot control it. We were never meant to."
"But what choice remains?" said another. "The shadows are not merely invading—they are infecting."
High General Vrakhar had already made his decision. The council chamber dimmed as he stepped into the central projection dais.
"I have chosen who shall go to Venter," he declared. "Elder Xiran has already departed. Now… we prepare for the worse. If the signal comes—Solan will open the Crypt."
A hush fell. Even the ancient war-born elders feared what lay beneath the capital.
For it had not seen the light in seven million years.
And it was never meant to.