The ship floated through the debris field like a ghost.
Kael sat silently in the cockpit, watching the fractured remains of ancient vessels drift past—hollow shells from wars so old that even Vakya couldn't identify them. Some still bore half-faded banners, sigils of empires that had never truly existed.
A shiver ran down his spine.
The Chronohounds were dead. But the war had only just begun.
Vakya's voice hummed in his mind.
> Proximity alert: Unknown vessel detected.
Designation: Riftborn-class.
Status: Non-hostile.
Kael frowned. "Riftborn?"
Lira leaned forward. "Sounds like a fairy tale."
Rax grunted. "Or a trap."
Kael stood. "Only one way to find out."
The Echohound shifted closer, thrusters firing in careful bursts.
Then they saw it.
A ship—or what remained of one—drifting in the void, its hull blackened and scarred, stitched together from materials Kael didn't recognize. It looked wrong somehow, as if pieces of a dream had been welded onto a nightmare.
Lines of gold flickered faintly across its surface, forming shifting patterns that hurt the eyes if stared at too long.
"Opening a comms channel," Lira said, fingers flying over the console.
There was a burst of static.
Then a voice—low, melodic, and unnervingly calm.
"Pilgrims of the Shard, you are summoned."
Kael exchanged a glance with his crew.
"Summoned by who?" he asked.
There was a pause. Then:
"The Riftborn."
They boarded cautiously.
The Riftborn ship's airlock groaned open with a hiss, releasing a sweet, metallic scent into the corridor beyond.
Kael led the way, blade at his side, Vakya's energy humming along his nerves.
Inside, the walls were covered in glyphs that shimmered and shifted as they walked, telling stories in a language Kael didn't understand—but somehow felt.
Images of cities rising from shattered worlds. Of figures cloaked in smoke and fire. Of battles fought not for territory, but for reality itself.
At the heart of the vessel, they found them.
Three figures, waiting.
The Riftborn.
They were human—or close enough.
Their skin was marked with glowing sigils, their eyes a shade too bright to be natural. They wore robes stitched from the void itself, shifting and rippling with every movement.
The leader, a tall woman with hair like liquid silver, stepped forward.
"I am Seris," she said. "Speaker for the Riftborn Collective."
Kael didn't lower his blade.
"What do you want?"
Seris smiled slightly. "To offer an alliance."
Rax barked a laugh. "That usually means 'we'll kill you later.'"
Seris ignored him, focusing on Kael.
"You carry the Shards. You are an Echo of the True Song. We have waited... a long time for one such as you."
Kael narrowed his eyes.
"I'm not interested in being someone's weapon."
Seris tilted her head. "You misunderstand. We wish to help you forge a new symphony—one where the Cadence does not dictate every note."
Lira stepped forward warily. "And what's the price?"
Seris's smile faded.
"Nothing is free," she admitted. "We ask only that, when the time comes, you choose."
Kael didn't like the sound of that.
"Choose what?"
"Choose truth over comfort. Revolution over survival. Future over past."
They led him deeper into the Riftborn ship, into a chamber filled with swirling orbs of light.
Each orb showed a different version of reality—some brighter, some darker.
In one, Kael saw himself leading an armada against the Cadence.
In another, he saw himself lying dead in a gutter, forgotten.
In a third... he saw himself ruling over a world of ash and ruin.
Seris gestured to the orbs.
"Every Shard you gather strengthens the Song—but it also shapes you. Each choice you make echoes outward, changing what could be."
Kael clenched his fists.
"Why show me this?"
"Because the Cadence fears you," Seris said softly. "And fear breeds monsters. Soon they will unleash the Riftborn's opposite—the Silence."
Vakya's voice whispered in Kael's mind:
> The Silence: Anti-narrative constructs. Purpose: Nullification of disruptive agents.
Risk Level: Catastrophic.
Kael turned to face Seris fully.
"How do we stop them?"
Seris smiled again—a thin, grim smile.
"By becoming louder than their silence."
Back on the Echohound, Kael sat in the captain's chair, deep in thought.
The Riftborn hadn't tried to trap them. Hadn't even asked for anything tangible.
But their warning haunted him.
The Silence.
Creatures born not to fight, but to erase.
No battles. No victories. Just void.
He stared out into the stars.
"We're not ready," he admitted.
Lira looked at him sharply. "Then we get ready."
Rax thumped a fist into his palm. "Bring 'em on."
Kael smiled faintly.
He admired their fire.
But deep inside, he knew it wasn't just about winning battles anymore.
It was about writing a future so strong, so undeniable, that even the universe itself couldn't erase it.
He closed his eyes, feeling the hum of the Shards in his blood.
One choice at a time. One note at a time. One world at a time.
The war for existence had begun.
And Kael was ready to play his part.