Darkness swirled around the void, an eternal abyss where time held no meaning. Deep within its heart, something stirred—something ancient, waiting, whispering. Far beyond the rift, in the physical realm, a great war had been lost centuries ago. The Zenith Order, once the guardians of balance, had fallen. Their temples lay in ruin, their warriors scattered, and the secret of their power buried beneath the sands of forgotten worlds. But the Void never truly sleeps. And now, it was waking once more.
Chapter 3: Hunted
Far above Dionis V, aboard the dreadnought Abyss Warden, Lord Drax sat in silence.
The disturbance had not gone unnoticed.
"Another one," he murmured, his crimson eyes narrowing.
Lady Veyla knelt before him. "Shall I dispatch the Inquisitors, my lord?"
Drax nodded. "The boy is no longer insignificant. Bring him to me."
