I would have loved to call it curiosity, but even then, I felt that it was more. Much more.
I sensedthe imperial starship before I saw it. That alone was enough to irritate me. Its mass pressed against the edges of Nox Eternum—Dark Abyss—like a foreign thought, too loud, too present, too close to a place that was not meant to be approached so openly. Pandraxian hull signatures flared across my displays, elegant and disciplined, wrapped in enough shielding to suggest confidence rather than wisdom. They had no business here. The Dark Abyss did not reward curiosity. It tolerated it until it decided not to. And then it lured those foolish enough to display it in. I slowed my ship and let my shadow-systems unfurl, not cloaking, listening. Probing. Sampling the space between particles where truth tended to hide. Imperial encryption slid across my awareness, thick and layered, but familiar. Zapharos had not exaggerated when he described Emperor Daryus' reach.
A moment's pressure, a subtle twist of intent—there. Yes, Emperor Daryus was aboard. I clicked my tongue softly. Of course he was. The Pandraxians never half-committed to danger. If they were foolish enough to park a capital vessel on the lip of Nox Eternum, their Emperor would insist on witnessing it personally. Pride and paranoia often masquerade as leadership.
Still, it explained the fleet's posture. The tight formation. The aggressive defensive netting. What it did not explain was the second presence. I stilled, hands hovering over the controls. There was something else on that ship.
Not Arkhevari. Not Pandraxian. Not Cryon. Not anything I had ever felt before. The signature was… indistinct. Faint, but persistent, like a harmonic echo that refused to resolve into a single frequency. It brushed the edge of my senses and slipped away when I tried to isolate it.
I frowned. Nothing should feelblurredto me. I pushed deeper, risking a longer touch than I preferred this close to the Abyss. Data bloomed and folded back in on itself. Gravity readings spiked and normalized. Time lagged by fractions too small for Pandraxian instruments to notice, but not for mine. The presence, however, remained. Unlabeled. Unclassified. Unacceptable.
I withdrew sharply, and the shadows snapped back into place. The Dark Abyss watched the ship with more interest than it should have. I felt the tension in the fabric of space, the subtle drag of attention that had nothing to do with mass. Nox Eternum did notobserve;it reacted. And it was reacting now.
To the ship. Or to what it carried. Or better still,who.
I exhaled slowly, irritation curdling into something colder. Zapharos had warned Daryus. I knew that. Had spoken to him of wounds and balance and things best left unnamed. The emperor had listened, as far as such males ever do. Apparently, listeninghad translated into parking an imperial flagship on the edge of annihilation.
Fool.
The echo pulsed again, softer this time, brushing my awareness like static across bare skin. Not a call. Not a threat. A resonance. I did not like it.
Somewhere, far beneath my irritation, something stirred, an old instinct, sharpened by wars that predated empires. The sense that a board had been set, pieces had been placed, and that I had finally arrived, mid-game.
Other thoughts fractured my awareness. Nythor pressed faintly at the back of my mind, from wherever the Cryons were holding him prisoner. He would soon enough find out that I wasn't on my way to simply rescue him. He needed to be terminated; his mind was too far gone.
…thirty-two over nine—curvature sings when watched—don't look too long?—
I cut the connection before the nonsense could take root. Enough. His babble had been inside my head from the moment I left Nox Eternum's gravitational pull.
I adjusted my course and opened a channel. Even if I didn't like it, I had to warn the emperor away from the Dark Abyss. My decision was not rooted in morality, but logic. I could not allow the Dark Abyss to take control of someone so powerful. And if whatever that other presence was decided to make itself known… my mouth curved in a thin smile. I would deal with that too.
I did not like being escorted, but as soon as the docking clamps engaged with a sound too loud for my taste, reverberating through the hull like a declaration, I was surrounded by Pandraxian guards. I suppose it was to be expected, and I grudgingly allowed them to discharge their duty. Corridors unfolded before me, clean lines, disciplined geometry,power expressed through restraint. Soldiers tracked me with their eyes and led the way at a respectful distance. Good. They understood, at least on some instinctive level, that proximity was not a permission I granted.
The boardroom doors parted at my approach. Emperor Daryus stood at the central table, wearing ceremonial black and gold; his posture was rigid with barely leashed impatience. He did not offer a greeting. Instead, he simply nodded. "Dravok."
"Your Imperial Highness," I retorted, minding my manners for the time being.
"You arrive unannounced and dock with my flagship as if it were your own," he accused right away.
"You parked it at the mouth of annihilation," I replied in kind. "I consider that an invitation."
His eyes flashed. "Zapharos warned me you were insufferable."
"Did he also warn you how dangerous it is to loiter this close to the Dark Abyss?" I shot back.
A muscle jumped in his jaw. "My ship is engineered to withstand gravitational extremes. Its hull, its engines, its stabilizers?—"
"No," I cut in, shaking my head once. "This is not a question of strength." That gave him pause. "The pull you're measuring," I continued, stepping closer to the table, "is not mass-based. Not purely. You are compensating for gravity as if this were a standard singularity. It isn't."
Daryus folded his arms. "Our readings show controlled drag. Within acceptable tolerances."
"Your readings are lying to you," I explained calmly. "Because the Abyss does not pull the way stars do." Silence settled, heavy and expectant. "It pulls byattention," I went on. "By resonance. By recognition. The longer you remain, the moreit notices you. Not your ship—you. Your systems compensate for force. They cannot compensate for curiosity."
Daryus's temper flared. "You're suggesting the Abyss thinks."
"I'm stating that it responds," I corrected. "And that response escalates."
I reached out—not with power, but with intent—and the table's projection shifted, warping slightly as space itself bent to illustrate my point.
