The wormhole corridor rippled like liquid glass, their ship hurtling through tunnels of light. Kaelen gripped the controls as turbulence rocked them violently. "This isn't a natural gate," he shouted over the alarms. "Something's manipulating it!"
Ceyra, hunched over the nav console, swore under her breath. "I can't stabilize the exit vector. It's trying to choose where we come out."
"Can you fight it?" Lyra demanded.
"I can try—but whatever's on the other end might not like us dropping in uninvited."
Suddenly, the turbulence ceased. The ship burst from the wormhole into a breathtaking vista—an enormous nebula stretching across the void, riddled with colossal structures shaped like thorns. Dozens of ships loomed within, unlike anything they'd ever seen—organic hulls, spined like predators.
A voice filled the comms, cold and melodic.
"Travelers. You have trespassed upon the Sanctum of Veilara, High Sovereign of the Shardborn. Power down, or be annihilated."
"Shardborn…" Rhyss whispered. "We've stumbled right into their homeworld."
Before Kaelen could respond, another fleet emerged from a different wormhole behind them—sleek metallic ships marked with the sigil of the Consortium. Weapons powered up instantly.
"Consortium taskforce," Ceyra said, paling. "And they're aiming at everything."
The nebula erupted in chaos. Shardborn vessels screeched forward on trails of bioluminescent fire, while Consortium destroyers unleashed volleys of plasma.
Kaelen punched the engines. "We're leaving!"
"Too late," Lyra breathed. From above, a titanic shape descended—a living fortress, miles wide, its carapace glowing with runic veins.