The stars had changed.
Not all at once but subtly, like a breath being drawn in across the fabric of space. Constellations shifted by degrees. Pulsars dimmed in erratic rhythm. Planets once cataloged with certainty were now missing or altered bearing names no one remembered writing.
And aboard the Wraith, silence reigned.
It had been twenty-two hours since Elara found the message. Twenty-two hours since the name Elyon was spoken aloud.
In that time, not a single crew member had slept.
They didn't talk about it openly, but each of them felt it.
A sliver under the skin of the universe.
A presence in the hull when they walked alone.
A flicker in the corner of the eye that vanished when they turned to look.
Nova had taken to walking the ship's corridors with her weapon unsheathed. Aeron spent hours cycling through layers of external scans, finding no anomalies—except that each scan was… slightly different. Like space refused to be seen the same way twice.
