Approaching the Belt
The Red Radiant floated at the very edge of the Wrecked Light Belt —
a graveyard of shattered moons, broken ships, torn planets, and twisted cosmic debris.
The stars beyond shimmered weirdly —
distorted like heat rising off pavement,
as if even light itself was afraid to cross.
The ship's shields flared sporadically as multiversal winds brushed against them —
invisible and unnatural.
In the bridge, tension crackled like static.
Plo sat hunched over her console, scanning frantically.
"Gravity inconsistencies… spatial ruptures… timeline echoes…"
"This place is… wrong."
Kaelen stood at the viewport, arms crossed, eyes shadowed.
He said nothing — but his body was tense, alert.
Already sensing something worse lurking unseen.
Iselyra leaned against the console nearby, Frostbrand hanging loose at her side.
Jaxen adjusted the Radiant's course, grimacing.
"Flying through this soup's gonna be a nightmare."
Zaraya stood at the center of the bridge —
calm, fierce, cosmic fire burning in her eyes.
"We've survived worse," she said. "We break through. We find what's hidden. And we make it ours."
Crossing the Threshold
The Radiant plunged forward.
The shields shimmered and buckled.
Wreckage loomed — titanic pieces of ancient dreadnoughts, spinning slowly in dead space.
Broken planets hung like gaping mouths, leaking molten rivers into the void.
Strange lights flickered deep in the Belt — flashes of impossible colors, living memories caught in time loops.
The ship lurched as a gravity rift tugged at it.
Drex whined nervously.
Plo adjusted stabilizers, muttering to herself.
"Reality is thinner here than it should be.
Almost like it's… bleeding."
Kaelen's knuckles whitened on the railing.
Zaraya grinned grimly.
"Perfect place for a treasure hunt."
Whispers in the Dark
As they moved deeper, strange phenomena began:
Voices crackled over the comms — echoes of old battles fought centuries ago.
Shapes flickered outside the viewports — ancient ships sailing ghostlike across dead space.
The very stars seemed to twist and sway unnaturally.
Aerin clutched her staff tighter, murmuring protective prayers to the Dawnroot spirits.
Iselyra frowned, her instincts prickling.
"This place isn't just broken," she said lowly. "It's… angry."
Plo tapped at her console furiously.
"I'm picking up fragments of a massive structure deeper inside the Belt.
Maybe a station… maybe a gate."
Zaraya's grin widened.
"Then that's where we're headed."
But Kaelen stayed silent, staring out at the swirling wreckage.
In the far distance,
beyond the broken moons and shattered worlds,
he felt something watching.
Something old.
Something… familiar.
And faintly —
beneath the distortion —
he heard a whisper.
A name.
"Kaelen…"
"Return…"
"Serve…"
His eyes narrowed.
He said nothing —
but the shadows around him deepened slightly.
Kain's scent was here.
Old and faint —
but real.
Closing In
The Radiant sailed deeper.
Wreckage closed in around them like rotten teeth.
The light dimmed.
The fractures widened.
The Belt was alive.
And it was waking.
Approaching the Belt
The Red Radiant floated at the very edge of the Wrecked Light Belt —
a graveyard of shattered moons, broken ships, torn planets, and twisted cosmic debris.
The stars beyond shimmered weirdly —
distorted like heat rising off pavement,
as if even light itself was afraid to cross.
The ship's shields flared sporadically as multiversal winds brushed against them —
invisible and unnatural.
In the bridge, tension crackled like static.
Plo sat hunched over her console, scanning frantically.
"Gravity inconsistencies… spatial ruptures… timeline echoes…"
"This place is… wrong."
Kaelen stood at the viewport, arms crossed, eyes shadowed.
He said nothing — but his body was tense, alert.
Already sensing something worse lurking unseen.
Iselyra leaned against the console nearby, Frostbrand hanging loose at her side.
Jaxen adjusted the Radiant's course, grimacing.
"Flying through this soup's gonna be a nightmare."
Zaraya stood at the center of the bridge —
calm, fierce, cosmic fire burning in her eyes.
"We've survived worse," she said. "We break through. We find what's hidden. And we make it ours."
Crossing the Threshold
The Radiant plunged forward.
The shields shimmered and buckled.
Wreckage loomed — titanic pieces of ancient dreadnoughts, spinning slowly in dead space.
Broken planets hung like gaping mouths, leaking molten rivers into the void.
Strange lights flickered deep in the Belt — flashes of impossible colors, living memories caught in time loops.
The ship lurched as a gravity rift tugged at it.
Drex whined nervously.
Plo adjusted stabilizers, muttering to herself.
"Reality is thinner here than it should be.
Almost like it's… bleeding."
Kaelen's knuckles whitened on the railing.
Zaraya grinned grimly.
"Perfect place for a treasure hunt."
Whispers in the Dark
As they moved deeper, strange phenomena began:
Voices crackled over the comms — echoes of old battles fought centuries ago.
Shapes flickered outside the viewports — ancient ships sailing ghostlike across dead space.
The very stars seemed to twist and sway unnaturally.
Aerin clutched her staff tighter, murmuring protective prayers to the Dawnroot spirits.
Iselyra frowned, her instincts prickling.
"This place isn't just broken," she said lowly. "It's… angry."
Plo tapped at her console furiously.
"I'm picking up fragments of a massive structure deeper inside the Belt.
Maybe a station… maybe a gate."
Zaraya's grin widened.
"Then that's where we're headed."
But Kaelen stayed silent, staring out at the swirling wreckage.
In the far distance,
beyond the broken moons and shattered worlds,
he felt something watching.
Something old.
Something… familiar.
And faintly —
beneath the distortion —
he heard a whisper.
A name.
"Kaelen…"
"Return…"
"Serve…"
His eyes narrowed.
He said nothing —
but the shadows around him deepened slightly.
Kain's scent was here.
Old and faint —
but real.
Closing In
The Radiant sailed deeper.
Wreckage closed in around them like rotten teeth.
The light dimmed.
The fractures widened.
The Belt was alive.
And it was waking.