The wind howled over Aurex like it had something to prove.
Low-pressure fronts from the southern ridge brought a bruised sky and sharp, rolling gusts that made even the pylons groan. Powerlines flickered. Tree crowns bowed. Still—Toren stood on the outer wall, his cloak wrapped tightly, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Mira joined him without speaking.
Below them, children raced to shelter. Cargo workers locked crates. Tarn barked orders at his scout team, securing antennae and watchtowers.
The storm was physical.
But it wasn't just weather.
"You feel it too?" Mira asked.
Toren nodded. "This isn't natural."
"Kora says it's a pressure anomaly from the upper stratosphere."
"She's not lying," he said, "but she's not telling everything."
A beat.
Mira's hand brushed the rail beside his. Her fingers curled once. Then relaxed.
"Every time we think we've seen the edge," she murmured, "the world stretches farther."
Toren didn't answer.
Because something was coming.
And it had already stepped across their borders.
The next pulse came during sleep.
A data spike—small, rapid, and precisely coded—flicked through the central relay like a pin slipping into a lock.
Source Mask: Imperial – Comms Subnet 47BPayload Type: Pre-burst location scanThreat Level: Medium – Orbital Range Scan Confirmed
Kora chimed instantly.
"False orbital ping activated. Decoy satellites online. Outer ring will show flora only. No thermal depth."
But Toren was already moving.
He burst into the tech chamber barefoot, cloak half-fastened, Mira just behind him.
"Is it the Empire?" she asked.
"No," he said, eyes scanning the display. "It's a probe ship. Unmanned."
"Scouting?"
"Testing."
Wess appeared at the side. "Want me to fry it?"
Toren shook his head. "Let them see what we want them to see."
Mira frowned. "Which is?"
"A world not worth invading."
The system blinked again—this time from deeper inside the forest.
New Object Detected – Perimeter breach: Eastern sectorLife Form Count: 1Signature: Unknown. Force Presence: Weak but Active.
Toren's breath slowed.
"It's not a drone," he said.
"Then what is it?" Mira asked.
He turned, already reaching for his sidearm.
"Someone who walked through the storm."
They found him at the tree line—barefoot, coat torn, eyes pale from sunshock. His hands were raised.
He said only one word.
"Vale."
Toren stepped forward. "That's my name."
The man didn't move. His voice was soft, unbroken.
"Then you're the one they're watching."
Mira flanked him. "Name. Affiliation. Intent."
"I'm no one," the man said. "I ran. I saw something. I came here to tell you."
Wess whispered, "This feels like bait."
Tarn, already aiming down scope, muttered, "He's unarmed."
The man's legs buckled.
They caught him.
Inside the medbay, under scans, he spoke again.
"The Empire has your name," he told Toren. "Not your face. Not your power. But your coordinates. I was in a substation near Galzor Prime. They intercepted the Trade Federation signal. Flagged it. Forwarded it to a list."
Toren's voice was barely audible.
"What list?"
The man's gaze fixed on nothing.
"The one where they track things that shouldn't exist."
It rained for three days.
The storm never touched the settlement's heart—but it pressed down on them in every corridor, every echo chamber, every breath.
Toren didn't sleep.
Mira stayed by his side more often than not—silent when he needed her to be, sharp when the others weren't.
The Echo Shard pulsed in the background.
No more messages. No more patterns.
Just the wait.
Toren stood beneath the civic tower at dawn, soaked in silver light.
Kora's voice drifted through the rain.
"The Empire will come. Not yet. But soon."
He nodded.
"I know."
"Do you want to win?"
He didn't answer immediately.
He looked out over his people—tired, strong, unshaken.
Then up at the clouds.
"I want to make it cost them."