For a heartbeat, time fractured.
The Shattering
The Iron Wraith's annihilation beam cut across the void, brighter than a newborn star. Every ship in its path seemed destined for obliteration. Crewmen clutched consoles, eyes fixed on death itself.
But before the beam could reach the Sovereign, the labyrinth stirred.
Lyra's touch on the crystalline spire sent a shockwave through reality. The Seed inside her flared with blinding radiance, and the labyrinth became a prism of living light. The beam bent, twisted, and vanished into the void—swallowed whole by the impossible geometry of the construct.
On the Sovereign's bridge, silence reigned. The crew stared, unbelieving.
"…it's gone," Hrynn whispered. "The weapon—disappeared."
Admiral Veyric exhaled slowly, though his eyes never left the viewport. "Not gone. Redirected." His gaze shifted toward the labyrinth, now glowing like a beacon in the dark.
Within the Labyrinth
Lyra collapsed to her knees, gasping as the spire's energy poured through her. Her veins glowed faintly, threads of silver light pulsing beneath her skin. The echoes fell silent, bowing as though to a queen crowned by destiny.
Kaelen rushed to her side, steadying her trembling form. "Lyra—speak to me. What did you do?"
Her voice was a whisper, raw and trembling. "I didn't… control it. It used me. The Seed… it's awake now. And it's hungry."
The labyrinth's walls shifted violently, runes blazing brighter. For the first time, Kaelen felt something looking back at him. A vast, alien intelligence—neither friend nor foe, but something beyond comprehension.
The Seed had not merely answered Lyra's call. It had chosen.
The Enemy Reacts
On the Harbinger's warship, fury erupted. The Iron Wraith groaned like a wounded beast, its weapon core cracked and spilling molten fire. The Harbinger himself slammed his armored fist into the throne beside him, shattering it.
"Who dares twist the void against me?" His voice thundered across his fleet's comms. "Find her. Tear open that labyrinth and bring me the Seedbearer's head!"
Across the field, Azhira's fleet stirred at last. Her voice, cold and silken, slipped into every channel.
"Patience, Harbinger. You bleed already. Why should I dull my blade when you do the work for me?"
"Silence, witch!" the Harbinger roared. But even through his rage, he felt the shift—an ancient balance breaking.
And far behind them, the Echo Lord's vessel pulsed again, its wave of despair stronger, sharper. As though it, too, had noticed the Seed awakening.
A Glimpse of Power
Kaelen pulled Lyra to her feet, though her eyes glowed faintly, as though she stared into realities unseen.
"What do you see?" he demanded.
She swallowed hard. "Everything. The fleets. The Harbinger. Azhira. The… thing beyond them." She shuddered as if struck by cold. "The Echo Lord. Kaelen—it's watching. It knows me now."
Before he could respond, the echoes stirred again. Not as enemies, but as guides. They parted, revealing another corridor leading deeper into the labyrinth.
At the far end, a gate shimmered—etched with symbols neither of them recognized, yet Lyra felt them like a heartbeat.
"It wants me to go further," she whispered.
Kaelen's grip tightened on his blade. "Then we go. But we go together."
And somewhere behind them, the labyrinth laughed—soft, endless, like the echo of stars collapsing.
The War Tightens
Outside, Veyric had no illusions. The Harbinger's warship was crippled, but not destroyed. His fleets had held—but barely.
He activated the secure channel. "Azhira, you've waited long enough. If you mean to strike, then strike. Otherwise, stay out of my way."
Her voice returned, amused. "Bold words, Admiral, for a man standing at the edge of ruin. But very well. Consider this my… gesture of cooperation."
Her ships shimmered and then unleashed fire. Sleek lances of light tore through the Harbinger's flank, burning his vessels to ash.
For the first time, Veyric almost smiled.
But he knew better. Azhira never gave without demanding something greater in return.
Two Fronts Aligned
In the labyrinth, Lyra and Kaelen stood before the gate, its surface rippling like liquid glass. Lyra's hand trembled as she reached toward it, the Seed thrumming with anticipation.
Outside, the fleets clashed with renewed fury, two enemies momentarily aligned against one greater.
And in the shadow behind them all, the Echo Lord stirred fully awake.
Its first words—felt across every mind, every soul—were not spoken but imposed.
"The vessel has opened the door."