Space.
Silent. Endless. Cold.
The Misery Ark drifted through it like a rusted memory.
Inside, Kael curled in the pilot's chair, knees drawn to his chest, eyes wide open. He hadn't slept since the outpost. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there—the dead girl with half a face. And now that he'd left Kaidora, the voices had only gotten louder.
Don't forget me.
The moon is a wound.
She is waking. We are not ready.
He sat up, trying to focus. The nav-systems were barely holding together. He'd programmed a jump to a derelict station in orbit over the dead planet Vaskor, hoping to disappear. Regroup. Find answers.
Instead, the ship had pulled him off-course.
Right into a debris field.
Kael swore as a chunk of satellite tore past the viewscreen. Sparks burst across the control panel.
"Ship, engage auto-stabilizers!"
The onboard AI replied in a voice drier than Kael's humor:
"Auto-stabilizers were removed to make room for your 'emergency snack compartment.'"
"I regret nothing," Kael muttered.
The ship lurched.
Something big loomed ahead—half-buried in the wreckage. A cathedral ship, ancient and overgrown with tech-scars and rootlike cables. Its hull was covered in alien scripture, pulsing faintly with energy. In its center: a spiraling tower shaped like a spine.
His vision blurred.
A whisper cut into his mind:
The priestess sleeps in the marrow of machines.
Kael didn't want to listen.
So of course, he docked.
Interior – Derelict Cathedral Ship, Deck 3
Dark. Cold. Smelling of iron and oil and incense from a thousand years ago.
Kael's boots echoed on metal. His blade hummed in his hand.
At the end of the corridor, a sealed chamber pulsed with life. Inside was a containment cradle—black stone and silver tubes, shaped like a cocoon.
It was… singing.
Kael stepped closer.
"You should not have come here, Seer."
The voice wasn't in his head.
He spun—too late.
The cradle opened.
And from it rose a woman.
Pale skin. Metal veins. Eyes like nebulae. Hair coiled in braids made of wire. Eight long tendrils unfolded from her back, alive with memory and code.
Vexa.
A biomechanical priestess. Sleeper of the Root Core. Keeper of forbidden knowledge.
She looked at Kael like she already knew how he'd die.
"You've heard it, haven't you?" she asked.
"The echo."
Kael blinked. "I've heard a lot of things lately. Most of them want to eat me."
"And one wants to use you."
Vexa stepped down from the cradle. Her feet made no sound.
"The Hollow Moon has begun to stir. You are its voice. And I…"
She tilted her head.
"...am the last one who remembers how to shut it up."