Erebus falls behind.
Not like a point on a map—more like a scar that aches the moment I think about it. I catch myself going back there again and again in my head, as if I could still find the moment where things might have turned out differently.
But no. That door's closed.
I stand in the flagship's command hall, staring into the void ahead. It feels like space itself knows where we're going—
and wants nothing to do with it.
Somnira.
The next star system. The next… trial?
Or the next sentence.
Our fleet moves with perfect precision.
Beside it—his fleet. The Dark Mind's.
Unified.
A word that sounds right—
and feels like defeat. Like submission.
As if someone took two incompatible pieces of reality and forced them to pretend they belong together.
I feel them.
Thousands of ships.
Every impulse. Every course correction. Every micro-adjustment.
They pass through me like signals through a nervous system.
And threaded through all of it—
something alien.
The Dark Mind.
It doesn't speak. Doesn't interfere.
It simply exists.
Like a shadow that doesn't need permission.
Somnira.
According to intel, the entire Xeno-Synapse fleet is gathering there.
Not a fragment.
Not a vanguard.
All of it.
They're preparing—
for the end.
So am I.
Only… we're not aiming for the same ending.
I'm going to give them back their selves.
Break the chains.
Give them a choice.
The Dark Mind is going to take them.
Fold them in. Own them.
And with every second of flight, we're closing in on the point where only one of us can be right.
I close my eyes.
Just for a second.
I picture them.
Not as enemies.
As people who forgot they were people.
Faces.
Voices.
Mistakes.
Choices.
If I make it in time—
Stop.
I open my eyes.
Not "if."
"When."
(A lie.)
(But it gets me there.)
"You're doing it again."
The voice is quiet.
Almost gentle.
I turn.
Liara.
Standing too close to be accidental.
Too close to pretend it doesn't mean anything.
"Doing what?" I ask, not looking away from the starfield projection.
"Saving everyone."
"In your head."
I huff.
Direct hit.
Always is.
I turn to her.
Look.
And for a moment—
everything else fades.
She looks steady.
But I know better.
There's tension under it.
The same kind I carry.
Only hers doesn't hide as well.
"We can do this," I say.
She doesn't answer.
Because this isn't doubt.
It's understanding.
I shift my focus to the tactical display.
Amnelis stands at the console.
Calm.
Precise.
And when I look at him—
he's already looking back.
Through the network.
No words.
The connection snaps into place instantly.
Not a conversation.
An overlay.
I feel his thoughts as structure.
Readiness.
Doubt.
Belief.
And—
a question.
Do you really think we can bring them back?
I stall.
A fraction too long.
He notices.
I answer.
Yes.
Then, more honestly—
I need to believe we can.
He doesn't argue.
Doesn't reassure.
Just accepts it.
Understood.
Not agreement.
A choice to move forward anyway.
Even if the road ends in a wall.
I nod.
He returns to his work.
And I'm left with the truth:
I'm leading people—
not to victory,
but to a possibility.
And maybe—
to their deaths.
Great plan.
Applause all around.
But somewhere deeper—
beneath the layers of thought,
beneath the words—
I feel the Dark Mind.
It doesn't press.
Doesn't control.
Doesn't interfere.
And that's exactly why it terrifies me.
Because it means—
it's already certain.
About everything.
About me.
About the outcome.
I grit my teeth.
You think you've already won.
Silence.
No reply.
But I feel it—
it heard me.
A cold line runs down my spine.
Like a mark.
A check.
Noted.
I look away.
My gaze drifts to the squad.
Cal is arguing with a technician.
"I'm telling you, two more percent phase shift and we'll be shooting into the past!"
"That's not how physics works."
"Great. Then at least we'll miss with historical significance!"
Someone laughs.
Nervous.
Someone doesn't laugh at all.
And I realize—
this isn't a conversation.
It's breathing.
A way to stay human.
While we still can.
Cal notices me.
"Commander."
I nod.
"You ready?"
He pauses.
Too honest.
"No."
"But we'll look impressive."
I smirk.
"That'll have to do."
"Glad to hear it," he mutters, turning back.
And something inside me—
loosens.
Just a little.
Fragile.
Temporary.
But enough.
Liara steps closer.
Leans in.
Forehead against my shoulder.
No words.
No permission.
Like it's not a choice.
Like it's necessary.
I freeze.
Every instinct tells me to act.
Say something.
Do something.
But I don't.
I just stand there.
And let it happen.
Feel her breathing.
Steady.
"If you're about to say everything's going to be okay…" she murmurs.
"I'd be lying."
"Good."
"Then don't."
I exhale.
"Then I'll say something else."
She doesn't lift her head.
"We're not stopping."
She presses in a little closer.
"That's enough."
For a moment—
I almost believe in this mission.
Almost.
A signal cuts through the room.
Sharp.
Clean.
Like a blade on glass.
"Approaching Somnira system boundary in thirty seconds," Amnelis reports.
The room stills.
Conversations die.
Everyone snaps back into place.
Into role.
I straighten.
Liara steps back.
Looks at me.
And in her eyes—
the question.
Are you ready?
I don't answer.
Because—
no.
But I nod.
Because there's no other option.
Ten seconds.
The fleet aligns.
I feel it like muscles tensing before a strike.
Five.
Xeno-Synapse.
Far—
but already within perception.
Three.
My heart pounds.
Or maybe it's simulated.
Doesn't matter.
Two.
The Dark Mind—
moves.
Like a shadow unfurling wings.
One.
"Exit."
**
The rupture.
It always comes the same way—like a brief betrayal of reality. For a fraction of a second, the world forgets it's supposed to hold together.
And then—
Somnira.
It doesn't appear.
It slams into us.
Like waking up without warning—too sharp, too clear, too real. As if we're yanked out of a dream and thrown straight into a fight before we even realize we're awake.
I'm on the bridge.
The first thing I see—
ships.
Ours.
And his.
The Dark Mind's fleet is already here.
Perfect formation.
Cold precision.
Not a single wasted motion.
Not a hint of doubt.
This isn't an army.
It's a solved equation with no unknowns left.
I feel it.
Immediately.
It doesn't speak.
Doesn't press.
It simply watches.
Like it's no longer observing a process—
but a result.
I swallow.
My throat is dry.
"Where's the enemy?" I ask.
My voice comes out too steady.
I hate that.
Amnelis doesn't even turn.
"Ahead."
"There are a lot of them."
"A lot."
I stare into the void.
Nothing.
Just stars.
Just—
emptiness that feels… too calm.
"We've got a weapon that's already broken them," I say. "From the Dyson sphere."
It sounds like a plan.
It sounds like I'm trying to convince myself.
"I hope they didn't adapt."
Amnelis tilts his head slightly.
I feel his answer before I hear it.
"I doubt that."
Calm.
Flat.
"Xeno-Synapse don't just adapt. They learn faster than we can pull the trigger."
I exhale.
Short.
"Then we hope for the best."
He turns to me.
And for a split second—
almost imperceptibly—
he smiles.
"The master plan of every losing commander."
"Hope for the best."
I smirk.
Crooked.
"I've got one more step."
"What is it?"
"Improvise."
He nods.
"Then at least we'll have style."
"If we don't get erased before anyone notices."
"That's a detail."
And for a heartbeat—
it gets easier.
Almost.
The alarm doesn't sound.
It hits.
Straight into the mind.
No warning.
Signals flare.
Red. White. Errors. Overloads.
And—
explosions.
The ship shudders so hard I almost lose my footing.
My hands grab the console on instinct.
The world jerks in my vision.
I see—
space tearing open in fire.
Vacuum turns into a storm.
Real.
Alive.
Chaotic.
"Amnelis! Where's the enemy?!"
He answers instantly.
Too fast.
"They're here."
A beat.
"Already here."
I don't get it.
My brain lags behind reality.
"What—"
"Ambush. Cloaked."
And then—
I see them.
Not appearing.
Revealing.
As if they're cut out of nothing.
Small ships.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Too close.
Too sudden.
It's—
a trap.
And we're at the center.
"Prepare Sigil Fracture!" I snap.
My voice isn't steady anymore.
It cuts.
It burns.
"Ready."
"Fire on mark."
No hesitation.
No delay.
They fire.
Waves of rupture ripple through space—
like cracks racing across glass.
I feel them pass.
Like pain.
Like grinding teeth.
Xeno-Synapse ships take the hit.
They should vanish.
Their network—
should collapse.
I wait.
One second.
Two.
Three—
Nothing.
They don't slow.
Don't break.
They keep coming.
Straight at us.
"No…" slips out.
Amnelis says nothing.
But I feel it—
he knew first.
They adapted.
Of course they did.
They always do.
"Final assault," he says quietly.
Final.
And suddenly I understand—
it's not final for them.
It's final for us.
They accelerate.
A swarm.
Dense. Unified. Merciless.
They don't fire.
Don't maneuver.
They—
ram.
"Kamikaze…" someone whispers.
First impact.
Flash.
Antimatter.
Space collapses.
A ship beside us—
just disappears.
No debris.
No signal.
No chance.
Another.
And another.
I watch formation break.
The defensive line fracture.
"The vanguard's covering us!" Cal shouts.
I see it.
They take the hits.
Burn.
Vanish—
so we can live.
For now.
"Wave incoming!"
Of course it is.
Why wouldn't it be.
Perfect day.
Absolutely perfect.
"Stop that wave!"
"Turrets to max!"
"Interceptors—go!"
The system roars to life.
Guns fire.
Interceptors launch into the void—
slam into the swarm.
Explosions.
Light.
Noise.
Chaos.
And for a second—
it feels like we're holding.
Like there's a chance.
But one ship breaks through.
Small.
Almost invisible.
Too fast.
It doesn't dodge.
Doesn't fire.
It—
detonates.
And everything—
goes dark.
Defense collapses.
Like someone flipped a switch.
Turrets fall silent.
Interceptors lose sync.
Connections snap.
I feel it—
like something's been torn out of me.
"What… did it do?" I whisper.
No answer.
The answer's right in front of me.
They're coming.
Untouched.
Straight at us.
I stand there.
Watching.
And suddenly—
silence.
Inside.
Outside—
hell.
Fire.
Explosions.
Screams.
Inside—
nothing.
This is the end, I think.
Calm.
No panic.
Just a fact.
Well.
That's one way to go.
I almost smile.
Because of course—
this is how it ends.
Not heroic.
Not beautiful.
Just fast.
Stupid.
Sharp.
I feel Liara beside me.
Hear Cal.
Sense Amnelis giving orders.
But it's all—
far away.
Like it's happening to someone else.
And somewhere deep—
a thread.
"No. Not like this."
Weak.
Thin.
But it's there.
And when the enemy ships are already close enough to touch—
I understand:
if this is the end—
then I'll at least try
to break it.
Right now.
And in that moment—
my consciousness shifts.
I go on the offensive.