The Spines of Gaea were not merely mountains; they were the skeletal remains of a prehistoric era, jagged obsidian peaks that pierced the clouds like the serrated teeth of a buried titan. As the Valkyrie and the remnants of the Alliance fleet entered the narrow mouth of the Cinder-Pass, the sky vanished, replaced by towering walls of black stone that bled raw, unrefined mana.
The air here was thick—not with oxygen, but with the metallic tang of ancient magic. The atmospheric pressure within the canyon was so immense that the wooden hulls of the escort ships creaked and groaned, protesting the weight of the mountain's shadow.
Kaelen stood on the observation deck, his hands gripped white-knuckle tight on the railing. He felt the mountain's pulse. It was a deep, rhythmic thrumming that resonated with the emerald fire in his chest. Below him, the deck of the Valkyrie was a hive of activity. Pip was shouting orders at a team of Guild engineers, trying to recalibrate the mana-thrusters to handle the "Heavy-Air" of the Spines. Ria was moving among the soldiers, sharpening her spear with a whetstone that threw azure sparks, her face a mask of grim determination.
"The wind is changing," a voice said beside him.
Kaelen didn't need to turn to know it was Elara. The mage-scholar was holding a series of ancient, yellowed parchments—maps of the West that had been forbidden for centuries. Her eyes were fixed on the peaks above.
"It's not wind, Elara," Kaelen rasped. His voice was getting deeper, more resonant, as the Void-Scars on his neck continued to pulse. "It's a signal. The Hive-Ship is broadcasting. It's calling them."
"Calling what?"
As if in answer, a sound echoed from the high ridges above—a skittering, metallic clicking that drowned out the hum of the ship's engines.
"Contact!" a lookout screamed from the crow's nest. "Port side! High ridge! They're coming down the walls!"
From the shadows of the obsidian cliffs, the first wave of Ground-Hounds appeared. These were the Star-Eaters' terrestrial shock troops—biological horrors the size of carriage horses, built with six multi-jointed legs that ended in serrated glass claws. Their bodies were covered in the same shifting, geometric armor as the Fliers, but these were heavier, denser, designed to crush and consume.
They didn't jump; they "slid" down the vertical cliff faces, defying gravity as they sprinted toward the fleet.
"All batteries, open fire!" Commander Vane's voice boomed across the Aura-Link. "Don't let them reach the hulls! If they breach the mana-lines, we're falling into the abyss!"
The canyon erupted in a symphony of violence. The Valkyrie's side-mounted ballistae hissed, firing "Cold-Iron" bolts that trailed lines of blue frost. The first Hound caught a bolt in its central "eye"—a glowing violet orb in the center of its chest—and shattered into shards of black glass. But for every one that fell, ten more took its place.
The Hounds began to leap from the cliffs, soaring across the chasm to slam into the decks of the escort ships. The Iron Maiden, a heavy Guild cruiser to the Valkyrie's starboard, was swarmed in seconds. Four Hounds landed on its main deck, their claws tearing through the reinforced oak like it was parchment. Guild hunters rushed them with enchanted axes, but the Hounds projected a "Void-Aura" that caused the soldiers' weapons to become brittle and shatter upon impact.
"They're boarding the Maiden!" Pip yelled, his hands flying over the controls of his wrist-mounted terminal. "Kaelen, if that ship goes down, its mana-core will detonate! It'll take half the fleet with it!"
"THEY HUNGER FOR THE REFINED SPARK, ECHO," Ignis rumbled, his presence in Kaelen's mind feeling like a hot iron. "THEY ARE NOT HERE TO KILL; THEY ARE HERE TO HARVEST. DO NOT LET THEM FEED."
Kaelen didn't hesitate. He stepped over the railing and dropped.
He didn't fall. He snapped his hard-light wings open—jagged, flickering blades of emerald fire that hissed as they cut through the thick mountain air. He became a streak of green lightning, crossing the gap between the Valkyrie and the Iron Maiden in a heartbeat.
He landed in the center of the Maiden's deck, the impact creating a shockwave of spatial pressure that threw two Hounds off the ship. He didn't use a sword. He didn't need one. He raised the Scepter of the Unspoken, and the violet scars on his arms flared with an intense, blinding light.
"Blink-Strike!"
Kaelen vanished. He reappeared behind a Hound, his hand glowing with Void-Ignition. He drove his fist into the creature's geometric armor, not crushing it, but "erasing" the space it occupied. The Hound didn't die; it simply ceased to be, leaving a perfectly spherical hole in the air where its torso had been.
He vanished again. Reappeared. Vanished. To the soldiers on the deck, Kaelen was a ghost—a flickering image of green and purple fire that left a trail of shattered obsidian in his wake.
But the cost was immediate.
5 Days, 12 Hours, 15 Minutes.
Kaelen felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. He stumbled, his Starlight-Steel skin flaking away from his collarbone. The Void-energy was "drying" him out, turning his internal mana into ash.
A third Hound saw its opening. It lunged, its glass claws aimed at Kaelen's throat.
Clang!
A massive, enchanted iron shield slammed into the Hound's face, sending it skidding across the deck. Korg had leaped from the Valkyrie, his massive Goliath frame shaking the entire ship as he landed.
"Stay focused, Spark," Korg grunted, his breath coming in heavy plumes of steam. He planted his shield, creating a wall of physical force. "I hold the line. You break the hive."
"Kaelen! Above you!" Ria's voice screamed.
She was hovering above them, standing on a floating mana-skiff piloted by Pip. She threw her spear—the Soul-Piercer. The weapon sang as it cut through the air, trailing a ribbon of azure light that pierced three Hounds in a single line, pinning them to the Maiden's mast.
The battle was a chaotic meat-grinder. The fleet was moving deeper into the Spines, the canyon narrowing until the ships had to fly in a single-file line. The Hounds were relentless, coming from the ceiling, the walls, and even rising from the shadows below.
"We're approaching the Cavern of Echoes!" Elara's voice crackled through the Aura-Link. "The mana-density is going to spike! Kaelen, you have to get back to the Valkyrie! If you stay out there during the transition, the atmospheric discharge will cook you alive!"
Kaelen looked up toward the end of the pass. The canyon opened into a gargantuan underground dome, illuminated by glowing veins of Origin-Quartz. In the center of that dome sat the First Forge—a structure made of white stone and rotating gold rings that looked like a captured sun.
But standing between the fleet and the Forge was something far worse than the Hounds.
The Hive-Ship above had positioned itself directly over the dome's ventilation shaft. It was "extending" a limb. A massive, obsidian pillar—miles long—was descending into the mountain. At the end of that pillar was a Star-Eater Harbinger. It was a towering, humanoid shape, twenty feet tall, draped in robes made of shifting shadows, wielding a scythe of solidified Void.
The Harbinger raised its weapon, and the air in the canyon went silent. The screaming of the Hounds stopped. The engines of the airships sputtered and died.
"THE CARRIER HAS ARRIVED," the Harbinger's voice didn't come from its mouth; it resonated directly in the brains of every living soul in the fleet. "THE ARCHIVE DEMANDS THE SPARK. THE ARCHIVE DEMANDS THE DRAGON. SURRENDER THE ANOMALY, AND THE REST OF THIS WORLD SHALL BE SPARED... UNTIL THE HARVEST IS COMPLETE."
Commander Vane stepped onto the prow of the Valkyrie, his iron arm sparking with a desperate overcharge. "The Alliance doesn't trade its heroes, you geometric bastard! All ships! Focus fire on the Harbinger! Burn the sky down!"
The Alliance fleet unleashed a final, desperate volley. Cannons, spells, and harpoons flew toward the shadow-creature. But the Harbinger simply waved its scythe. A rift in space opened in front of it, swallowing the entire volley and spitting it back out behind the fleet. Two escort ships were instantly vaporized by their own fire.
Kaelen stood on the deck of the Iron Maiden, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt the weight of the five days remaining. He felt the heat of Ignis screaming for release.
"IT IS THE HARVESTER, ECHO," Ignis whispered, and for the first time, the dragon sounded afraid. "IT IS THE ONE WHO DRANK MY BROTHERS. IT IS THE ONE WHO TURNED THE STARS TO ASH."
"Then it's the one I have to kill," Kaelen said.
He looked at Ria, Korg, and Pip. They were terrified, but they weren't moving. They were waiting for his lead.
"Pip! Get the Valkyrie into the Forge's docking ring!" Kaelen commanded. "Ria, Korg, keep the Hounds off the engineers! Elara, find the activation sequence for the Solar-Lens! I'll buy you the time."
"Kaelen, no!" Ria shouted. "You can't fight that thing alone! Look at your skin—you're falling apart!"
"I'm not alone," Kaelen said, a grim smile touching his lips. He reached into the very center of his soul, past the dragon-fire, past the Void-Scars, to the tiny, flickering "Human Spark" that remained. He pushed everything he had into a single, massive Spatial Fold.
"I'm the bridge," he whispered.
Kaelen exploded into a supernova of emerald and violet light. He didn't blink to the Harbinger; he warped the entire chasm. In a literal blink of an eye, the Valkyrie and the remaining ships were "pushed" past the Harbinger and into the safety of the Forge's inner sanctum.
Kaelen remained outside, standing on a floating shard of obsidian, face-to-face with the Harbinger in the middle of the dark dome.
5 Days, 10 Hours, 0 Minutes.
The Harbinger tilted its head, its "face"—a swirling vortex of stars—regarding him with cold curiosity. "YOU HAVE WASTED TWO HOURS OF YOUR LIFE TO SAVE REPLICANTS. WHY, ANOMALY?"
Kaelen raised the Scepter, which was now glowing with a terrifying, unstable white light. "Because they're my friends. And you're in our way."
The Harbinger swung its scythe. Kaelen raised his hand. The duel for the heart of the world had begun.
~Current Status~
The One-Week Clock: 5 Days, 10 Hours remaining.
The Fleet: Docked within the First Forge (Shields at 40%).
Kaelen's Condition: Critical (Internal mana-burn; his human heart is beginning to calcify into Starlight-Steel).