The battlefield was no longer a field—it was a living storm.
The Echo-Lord towered in shadow, his strikes sundering mountains. But the factions would not yield. At last, the true powers at the heart of the war stepped forward, revealing themselves like kings at the end of a great game.
Admiral Veyric emerged from the smoke, his flagship descending with a choir of engines. Draped in black and silver command armor, he raised his hand and the Dominion fleet synchronized as one. Precision fire lanced through the haze, cutting apart the Echo-Lord's spawns. His voice carried, cold and commanding:
"Dominion does not kneel. Not to gods. Not to shadows."
Across from him, the air shimmered. Seer Azhira floated above her disciples, veiled in cascading light, her hands weaving fractal glyphs into the very air. Reality itself bent to her whispers—turning Dominion fire into rivers of glass, turning soldiers' screams into weapons. Her prophecy sang through every ear:
"Only one seed may bloom. Only one star may remain."
Then the ground shook. From a war-beast's back, the Harbinger rose, a tower of blacksteel bristling with cannons and blades. His legions howled behind him, war banners drenched in blood and smoke. He raised his great axe, sparks of annihilation dancing along its edge, and thundered:
"Both of you squabble like children. The Seed is mine. The galaxy bends to war!"
The three forces collided.
Azhira's crystalline constructs clashed against Veyric's armored legions, while the Harbinger's beasts tore through both with primal fury. Energy beams, divine sigils, and burning shells crisscrossed the sky until it resembled a shattered kaleidoscope.
Caught between them all, Kaelen and Lyra stood at the war's center.
Kaelen fought desperately to keep enemies from reaching her. His blade blurred against the Dominion's elite, against the Seer's disciples, against the Harbinger's berserkers. Sweat stung his eyes, his body screamed, but he refused to fall.
Lyra, glowing brighter, tried to hold the Seed's resonance steady. Her voice quivered, not with fear, but with the crushing weight of countless lives pressing against her soul. She saw into them—their hopes, their greed, their rage—and every emotion nearly broke her.
The Echo-Lord laughed, watching from the darkness.
"Perfect. Kill each other. Burn the stars. I will rise from the ash."
But even he flinched when the Black Sun above shuddered—its pulse growing violent, its light stretching like claws across the sky.
Something far older, far hungrier, was waking.