The silver hulls of the Farian fleet shimmered in the void, growing steadily larger against the stars. Cold, quiet space was interrupted by their slow and solemn approach—massive, sleek cruisers with wings like blades, moving with grace belying their size. They cast long shadows over the scattered emergency vessels drifting in a slow scatter, like petals strewn over a black sea.
Dican stood by the emergency pod's viewport, eyes fixed on the approaching fleet. His hand, clenched hard against the frame, trembled slightly. Relief came not as joy but as a crushing wave of exhaustion. They had made it. They were no longer alone in this cold silence.
Then his gaze dropped.
