The stars had grown dim.

  Vera Solace sat in the cockpit of the Eclipse, staring out at the scattered remnants of a dying civilization. Fragments of old stations and warships drifted through space like tombstones, silent reminders of the golden age that had been lost. She let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of it all pressing against her ribs.

  “Coming up on the station,” Captain Kael’s voice broke through the silence. He stood beside her, arms crossed over his worn-out flight jacket, his sharp eyes scanning the data flickering across the console.

  Vera tapped the side panel, zooming in on the derelict structure ahead. The station—once a beacon for refugees—now hung in the void, lifeless and cold.

  “No signals. No heat signatures,” she muttered. “It’s dead.”

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  “Then why did someone send out a distress call?” Kael asked, his voice edged with doubt.

  A crackle came through the comms.

  “I don’t like this,” Ashlyn "Ash" Vireo chimed in. “We’re walking into a trap. Probably scavengers looking to rip us apart for scrap.”

  “Then let’s be ready for them,” Vera said. She turned in her seat, looking at Kael. “We go in quiet. Get what we need and get out.”

  Kael gave a sharp nod before activating the ship-wide comms. “Gear up. We move in five.”

  As Vera stepped into the airlock, she felt the familiar hum of her rifle against her back. The ship’s lights flickered as Ash checked the charge on her pistol, her cybernetic eye glowing faintly in the dimness.

  “This place better have something worth our time,” Ash muttered.

  Eryx the Dreaded stood at the rear of the group, silent as always. His massive frame cast long shadows against the steel walls, his armor adorned with sigils from battles long forgotten.

  “We are not alone,” he said at last.

  A chill ran down Vera’s spine. “What do you mean?”

  Eryx turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes glowing under his hood. “The Architect knows we are here.”

  Then, from the depths of the station, something moved.