The EAC had pulled out all the stops.
A fleet of five massive transport cruisers, sleek, polished, bristling with stealth plating and long-range quantum sails hovered over the Veyron skyline like silver gods. Each bore the sigil of the Exo Arbiter Collective: a golden shield pierced by a plasma spear. Spotlights shimmered off their hulls, reflecting on the ocean-like glass panels below as a hundred mercenaries began boarding from designated docks.
Kaela stood at the edge of one such platform, gaze trailing the endless stream of people. She could see representatives of at least two dozen races, hulking drelkarr in gravity armor, sleek Syneth mercs plugged into neural rigs, tattooed aurai monks meditating midair, even a few mech pilots, each wheeling nondescript black briefcases that housed machines worth more than a mid-range starship.
Her pistols were holstered at her hips. Daggers hidden along her boots. Gauntlets strapped on. That was all she carried.
Everything else was inside the voidvault. No bags. Just what she could kill with.
Alenya nudged Kaela's shoulder, grinning. "Careful. You keep staring like that and someone might think you're impressed."
Kaela scoffed, arms still crossed. "Please. Most of them look like they spent more credits on their armor polish than actual training."
Alenya chuckled. "Well, at least they're shiny. You sure you don't want a musclebound mech pilot to carry your gear?"
Kaela gave her a flat look. "My gear could flatten a mech pilot."
"That's the spirit," Alenya said, laughing. "Come on, tell me at least one of them caught your eye. Maybe the guy with the skull tattoos and the three swords?"
Kaela smirked. "Only if he comes with a mute button."
They boarded with minimal hassle. Security was tight but respectful—EAC troops scanning their Qi signatures, tagging each mercenary with encrypted biosigs. The ship itself was pristine inside: floors of polished obsidian glass, soft-blue lighting pulsing along the walls, ambient music floating just below hearing level. Elevators guided them to their assigned living quarters.
Their shared quarters were compact but well-designed—six sleeping pods lining the walls, each enclosed with adjustable privacy screens. The soft hum of regulated temperature filled the space, along with the faint scent of sterilizer and machine oil. Built-in nutrient dispensers and recharge stations pulsed quietly between the bunks.
Three of the four bunks were already claimed.
A human woman in her late thirties gave them a polite nod as they entered, her cybernetic eyes adjusting with a faint click. She was dressed in plain fatigues, a combat harness folded neatly on her bed.
"Names?" she asked casually.
"Alenya," said the fire cultivator, tossing her bag onto the upper bunk. "And the grumpy one's Kaela."
Kaela raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Nice eyes."
"Medical-grade," the woman replied dryly. "Name's Vess. I don't snore. Usually."
The pair of Xerathians barely looked up. Their semi-liquid forms quivered slightly, crystalline veins glowing through translucent bodies. One of them raised a dripping limb in greeting. "Boro and Zii. Don't touch our hydration chamber."
"Noted," Alenya said, clearly amused.
The last bunk was occupied by a silent man seated cross-legged, a hiltless sword floating in midair before him. His eyes remained closed.
"He doesn't talk," Vess offered. "Name's Rhain. Don't disturb him unless you're looking for a spar."
Kaela tossed her coat onto her bed. "Good. I hate small talk."
Alenya slid into her pod, stretching out with a yawn. "Two months of floating in space with strangers. Can't wait to see which of us cracks first."
Kaela leaned against the wall. "It'll be you."
"Probably."
They settled in, and soon enough, the ship's engines rumbled to life—a steady, bone-deep thrum that signaled departure. Outside the porthole, Veyron began to shrink. The stars stretched.
The jump was clean.
No turbulence. No warning.
Just silence—and then, warp.
A few days into the journey, Kaela found herself wandering the ship's central promenade. The upper levels were reserved for officers and ranking EAC commanders, but the lower decks were all mercenary zones—cafes, sparring pits, sim-arenas, and a large open restaurant glowing in hues of deep orange and gold.
The place was alive.
Laughter spilled over the tables. Plates clinked. Two Syneth mercs were play-fighting with energy blades in the back corner while a drunk webryn, a spider like insectoid, tried to sing opera with three voices at once. Qi flickered in places it shouldn't, causing minor power surges and table-shaking outbursts.
Kaela sat at the edge, arms crossed, chewing through synth-spiced meat and watching the chaos unfold.
Then she felt it—eyes.
Not hostile. Just… heavy.
She turned.
Across the floor, gliding like a dancer through the crowd, came a woman she'd never seen before.
She wore robes of white and dusk-blue, her movements fluid and serene. Her skin shimmered like burnished bronze, and her long white hair fell in intricate braids along her back. But it was her eyes that caught Kaela—swirling like stormclouds, impossibly deep and always shifting.
She moved with the air of someone ancient—but her face was young.
She stopped beside Kaela's table, offering a slight bow.
"You have a very interesting soul," the woman said, voice soft and melodic.
Kaela blinked. "Excuse me?"
The woman's lips curled into the barest smile. "It's fractured. Like a puzzle."
Kaela's fork hovered halfway to her mouth. Her posture stiffened, instincts flaring. "What are you talking about?"
"My name is Riel," the woman said. "I am a Soul Seer. I see the echoes that others carry, yours sings with a sound I haven't heard before."
Kaela narrowed her eyes. Soul Seer? Echoes? Either this woman was delusional, or worse—dangerous. The kind of dangerous that wore silk and smiled while cutting throats.
Kaela stood slowly, pushing her plate aside. "I don't know what kind of scam you're running, but whatever it is go find someone else."
"I'm not here to con you."
"Then what are you here for?" Kaela asked, hand close to her sidearm. "You don't look like a merc."
Riel didn't flinch. "I was led here. I don't ignore the call of the dead."
Kaela's brow twitched. "...The what now?"
"The spirits," Riel said simply. "They whisper to me in dreams. And lately… they've shown me your face."
Kaela scoffed. "So now I've got dead people stalking me?"
"Not stalking. Guiding."
"And they guided you to me?"
Riel nodded slowly. "Our lives are linked by something greater. A thread neither of us can see."
Kaela stared at her. Silent. Then—
"Well, tell your spirits they've got the wrong girl. I'm just here for a paycheck."
She turned sharply and walked away without looking back.
Riel didn't follow.
But her whisper did.
"Then perhaps the universe will show you otherwise."