They gathered in the valley they'd chosen when they first landed.
No structures had been built here. No signs of interference. Just open land, heavy with wind and starlight. The trees swayed gently, whispering to one another in languages older than any living species.
The thirteen Viltrumites stood in a wide circle, silent at first, as they often were.
None of them wore armor. None of them needed to. The stars were their ceiling now. The dirt was their floor. For the first time in any of their lives, they weren't here to discuss conquest or orders or command chains.
They were here to make a promise.
Luke was the first to speak.
"This place will grow."
Merrick nodded. "We've already seen the beginnings of that."
Lyanna crossed her arms. "And we've already been seen."
Alexandra stood with her hands behind her back, gaze low. She didn't speak.
Teal looked at Nolan. "So what are we doing here, exactly? What are we setting in stone?"
Nolan didn't answer right away. His jaw was tight. His eyes, fixed on the stars.
"We decide," he said finally, "what kind of ghosts we want to be."
The words lingered in the air.
Nira shifted her weight. "We're not ghosts. Not yet."
"We should be," Nolan said. "For this world's sake."
Daniel glanced at Luke. "We're already becoming myth. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
Luke gave a slight nod. "Myth is cleaner than history."
Fimmel gave a low grunt. "No children."
The words cut through the air like a blade. Several heads turned.
"What?" Daniel asked, half-amused.
Fimmel shrugged. "That should be one of the rules. No children. No legacies."
Nolan nodded. "He's right. We shouldn't pass ourselves on. Not here. Not now."
"Not ever," Merrick added.
"Speak for yourself," Gabe muttered, then raised his hands in mock surrender as a few of them looked over.
"Not because it's wrong," Nolan said. "But because it's not the time. We came here to escape blood. We can't bring it into something new."
The pact began to form, not in a single moment, but over hours.
They spoke. They argued. They sat in silence. But one by one, the rules began to take shape:
No children.
No open interference with humanity.
No ruling.
No exposure.
No drawing attention to their names or species.
Stay hidden. Stay apart. Stay above.
It wasn't a treaty.
It was a survival plan.
They knew others would come one day — if not from their universe, then from another. The Empire wouldn't forget them. And if they ever returned, they would be killed on sight.
But more than that, they feared what they might become if they let themselves go unchecked.
They had seen what Viltrumites became when given too much power and too little conscience.
They didn't want to become monsters again.
They burned the oath into a stone tablet — not as a record for the world, but for themselves.
Nolan carved it by hand.
Teal held it in place.
Lyanna etched the stars above their valley on the back of it, in case the location was ever lost.
Luke and Daniel buried it beneath a slab of earth and reinforced the hill so it would last forever.
Later that night, they split again. Most returned to their quiet lives. The world needed time. So did they.
But some remained in the valley.
Alexandra sat at the edge of the clearing, legs drawn up, eyes distant. The sky above her was violet, stars sharp as shattered glass.
Vela watched her from a distance but said nothing.
Nolan walked over and sat beside Alexandra.
She didn't look at him.
"I don't know if I can do it forever," she said after a while.
Nolan waited.
"I've walked with them," she continued. "They don't know what we are. They never could. But… they're trying. They live like they only have tomorrow. They love like it's their last day. They don't plan centuries ahead. They just feel."
She exhaled slowly.
"I don't think I want a child, not now. But I want something more than this. Eventually."
"You're allowed to want that," Nolan said.
She looked over at him. "Even after tonight?"
"Especially after tonight," he said. "That's the point of the pact. Not to trap us — to protect us. From the empire. From ourselves. We'll know when it's time to change it."
She gave a small nod.
"You're not them, Alex," he added.
"I know," she said softly. "That's why it hurts."
Vela waited until Alexandra left before she approached.
She didn't sit. She stood beside Nolan with her hands folded behind her back.
"She's changing," Vela said.
"We all are."
"You're not," she said.
Nolan looked up at her. "You think I haven't changed?"
"I think you're waiting to," she replied.
He chuckled, but it was tired. "And you?"
"I changed the day you chose to run."
"Not the day you chose to follow?"
"That was the same day," she said.
He looked back up at the sky.
"How long do you think this will last?" he asked.
"This world?"
"This peace."
She didn't answer immediately.
"A few years," she said. "A few centuries. Maybe more."
"And after that?"
"We fight again," she said. "But maybe by then, we'll be different."
They stood together, looking up at the stars.
They were still young, by Viltrumite standards.
Nolan hadn't even reached full maturity.
Most of the others were still barely through their peak developmental cycle.
They had rebelled too young, fled too fast, landed in a world they weren't ready for.
But here they were.
For better or worse.
They were all they had left.
The winds picked up again.
In the darkness, across the hills, the sound of wolves could be heard howling. But none came near.
This was still the valley of the Thirteen.
And for now, they were at peace.