The Wraith sliced through the thick dark like a ghost-ship lost between dimensions. On every screen, the Architect Nexus loomed ahead: a colossal cluster of latticed spires orbiting a dying star gravity-bent and dripping with cold light. Beneath its webbed scaffolding shimmered anomalies that defied physics, like memories caught mid-dream.
Inside the ship, the hum of anticipation of something final vibrated through its decks.
Nova was in the engine bay, elbow-deep in a coolant leak that shouldn't exist. She was swearing at the console like it owed her money. Damien, nearby, offered moral support in the form of pretzels.
"If I vent one more plasma coil, I swear I'll rewire the ship into a cappuccino machine," Nova growled.
"I mean… priorities," Damien said, tossing her a wrench. "I'd take a mocha over being atomized."
"You say that like those two things are mutually exclusive."
