The Giza Mtuji's command deck hummed softly with low-frequency resonance, the thrum of the ship's dark-energy core pulsing like a living heartbeat beneath their feet. The lights were dim, intentionally so—designed to allow Mahasimu senses to thrive. Walls of black alloy shimmered faintly with veins of shadow-crystal, and the subtle whisper of the multiverse beyond the Shadow Gates echoed faintly through the hull.
Saumu stood at the central command console, clad in armor that shimmered like liquid dusk. Her hands hovered above the interface, though her mind wandered—drawn inward by the enormity of her responsibility. She had been chosen. Anointed. But even queens could tremble in private.
Kizito approached with the quiet weight of someone forged in war. His armor whispered power—veins of crimson light pulsing through the pitch-black plating. His presence was like gravity.
He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, a rare gesture of camaraderie from a man known for silence over sentiment.
Kizito:
"Saumu… I've walked through blood-soaked battlefields and seen entire planets die screaming. But this? This mission—this vision—is something else. You're young… but I see fire in your eyes. Don't lose it."
Saumu looked up, meeting his pale, silver stare. Her voice was calm but edged in steel.
Saumu:
"I carry the weight of our people in my bones. I won't falter. Not now. Not ever."
Kizito gave a small nod, his lips curling into a ghost of a smile.
Kizito:
"Good. That's the spirit of our darkness—unyielding. I'll be with you. Always watching. Always ready."
Behind them, Liora fidgeted with her shimmering dark-crystal interface, her fingers dancing over glowing glyphs. She looked up, her youthful face lined with tension.
Liora:
"Queen Saumu… Kizito… do you really think we'll find what we've lost out there? Or are we just chasing ghosts?"
Saumu softened her expression, stepping toward the Luminary.
Saumu:
"We chase shadows to bring them into the light. And sometimes, it's in the deepest dark that we find the spark to reignite our legacy."
From the edge of the room, Tano made a low grunt. He was sharpening a wicked black dagger, its edge catching a faint glint from the overhead lights. His expression was unreadable—seasoned, severe.
Tano:
"I've seen what hides in the black between stars. Fear doesn't kill—it corrodes. Keep your mind sharper than your weapons."
Saumu:
"I will. Your experience is a shield for us all."
By a nearby support strut, Shailia leaned with casual grace, her luminous eyes scanning her whisper-tools—ancient devices attuned to psionic echoes.
Shailia:
"The unseen is our greatest weapon. I'll feel the disturbance before it claws at us. The multiverse murmurs. I listen."
Near the helm, Kia sparked her fingertips together, grinning as static raced between her gloves and a control pad.
Kia:
"All systems green. I've tuned the engine cores and reinforced the reality-fold anchors. This beast will fly like it was born in shadow."
As they prepared, Kizito stood slightly apart, gazing into the distance. And then… it hit him. A memory. Not a gentle one—but a scar ripped wide open in the silence.
FLASHBACK: The Giza Academy — "The Only Way Out Is Power"
He was young again.
Half-starved. Bloodied. Surrounded by the screaming.
The Giza Academy was not a school—it was a crucible.
A brutal underground facility buried within Umbra Prime's mantle, where candidates for the Mfalme wa Giza—the Kings of Darkness—were broken and rebuilt.
The Instructor, a being known only as Malok'Tesh, wore no armor. He needed none. His psionic aura could crush bone from across the chamber. His voice was deep, unfeeling.
Malok'Tesh:
"You are here because the blood in your veins still screams for greatness. But let me be clear: most of you will leave in chains. The rest in body bags. Only one will ascend."
Dozens of youths, each one trained from childhood in psionics, martial warfare, and shadow manipulation, were thrown into a pit. There were no rules.
Kizito remembered the first night.
He broke a boy's jaw with a rock. Crushed another's windpipe with a shattered forearm. And when his own ribs were shattered, he fought on—biting, clawing, becoming a creature of survival.
Those who couldn't adapt… were taken away. They didn't die. No—worse. They were lobotomized, mind-shackled, and reprogrammed as Giza Thralls, slaves to serve the academy.
He could still hear their hollow voices echoing down the halls.
"Yes, Instructor. I serve. I serve. I serve."
Weeks turned to months. Kizito grew harder. Deadlier. The lessons became torture: psionic duels to the brink of brain death, voidwalk trials with no air, stealth exercises where failure meant live combat with adult assassins.
One day, Malok'Tesh stood before him after he killed a top student in single combat.
Malok'Tesh:
"You've survived. But that means nothing. Can you lead? Can you bleed for others, not just yourself?"
Kizito, breath ragged, his chest rising and falling with blood and ash, stared back.
Kizito:
"I am the darkness. I do not bleed—I end bleeding."
Malok'Tesh laughed. Just once. Then he bowed his head.
"You are no longer a student. You are now… Mfalme wa Giza."
PRESENT
The flicker of pain faded from Kizito's eyes as the memory passed. He felt Saumu's gaze.
She didn't ask. She didn't need to.
Instead, she stepped toward the central dais. Her voice was calm. Commanding.
Saumu:
"Prepare yourselves. We set out not just to colonize. We go to reclaim what is ours. To carve our name back into the bones of the multiverse. The darkness calls. Let us answer."
Kizito nodded slowly, voice low and resonant.
Kizito:
"This isn't a voyage. It's a resurrection. And we are the instruments of our empire's return. Stay true—to your training. To your purpose. And to each other."
One by one, the crew turned toward their stations. The Giza Mtuji trembled as engines roared to life, shadow plasma arcing along its hull. The massive Shadow Gates shimmered ahead—swirling vortexes of unspace and memory.
The ship eased forward.
And then it vanished, consumed by the void, heading into the vast unknown where destiny, danger, and dominion awaited.
And as Umbra Prime shrank behind them, Saumu whispered the words of the Ancient Queen once more:
"We are the dark between stars. We are the memory of power. We are Mahasimu Weusi—risen once more."