The week of leave ended with a high-priority summons. Commander Selene, Scholar Varia, and Aurelion awaited, along with a new face: a grim-faced Drakani in pristine armor—General Krall, head of the purged faction's loyalist remnant.
"The escape of the Dawn-Class Aegis had consequences," Selene began. "It has rallied a fleet. They are amassing on the edge of the Shattered Expanse, poised to strike at the Coreworld of Astra Prime. If Astra Prime falls, a quarter of the Ordered Multiverse's supply lines collapse."
General Krall's voice was a hissed rasp. "My people's shame is deep. We will lead the vanguard. But we need a weapon that can break their high-tier coordination. Their leaders."
All eyes turned to Echo.
Aurelion spoke. "Your bloodline ability represents a unique strategic advantage. Intelligence suggests the Corrupted are aware of you. They call you 'The Hemophage Sovereign.' They fear you. We must use that fear."
"What is my mission?" Echo asked, already knowing.
"Infiltrate the fleet. Find the commanding Dreadnought. Identify and eliminate the fleet's Admiral—likely a Nightmare-Class entity. Disrupt their chain of command during our main assault."
It was a suicide mission. A solo infiltration into the heart of a Corrupted armada.
Echo looked at the determined faces of his bonded—Leyla, Mira, and Ryn—who stood at the back of the room. He saw their fear, their pride, their unwavering support.
He had his foundation. He had his reason.
"I'll do it," Echo said, his blood singing a song of quiet, sovereign rage. "But I choose my own team for infiltration."
Selene nodded. "Granted. Prepare. You launch in forty-eight hours. The fate of Astra Prime, and perhaps the war, rests on this."
The storm was gathering. And Echo would walk into its eye, not alone, but with his bonded at his side—a triad of love now a quartet of war, united by blood, space, moonlight, and steel.