In the heart of a forgotten ruin, beneath a sky that had long since abandoned its stars, they gathered. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, the swirling glow of arcane sigils illuminating the chamber’s ancient walls.

  Vaelis Vharr stood at the ritual’s center, a lone figure draped in the white robes, the mark of the Lithari exiles. His voice wove through the chants of the gathered mystics, a hymn of invocation to forces they barely understood. The air shimmered as symbols older than history itself burned into existence.

  The Pandora Gate, a tear in the fabric of existence, opened first.

  From it, a presence emerged—a girl, enveloped in the cold glow radiating from dark matter’s visible manifestation, her form fragile yet unbreakable. She did not cry, did not struggle. She simply was, as if her existence was always meant to be.

  The mystics trembled, half in awe, half in relief. The Savior has come.

  But then—

  The Prometheus Gate, a wound in existence itself, did not open. It ruptured.

  The chamber trembled, the walls fracturing as something forced its way through. Not a divine force. Not a protector. A being wrapped in fire and ruin, its presence like the gnashing of a thousand blades.

  It was not called.

  It was born.

  The mystics screamed as the entity fell upon them, its very presence tearing through their fragile mortal forms like a storm of unraveling threads.

  It devoured the flames, absorbed the destruction, and left nothing behind but smoldering ash.

  And then, amidst the dying embers, it stood.

  No divine messenger. No savior.

  Only a consequence.

  The girl—a shining Star—watched, unmoving.

  Her counterpart—a burning Scar—only stared back, the fire in his veins cooling to something else. Something unshaped.

  They had been one. But now, they were two.

  The ritual had failed.

  Or perhaps, it had only just begun.

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  The ship's engines thrummed in silence, a dull, rhythmic pulse against the cold metal walls. Scar sat alone in the cockpit, his gloved fingers drumming against the console, his thoughts lost to the emptiness pressing at his chest.

  Outside, the Cassini Division stretched endlessly before him—a sea of drifting ice and debris, suspended in the void.

  To the Ferrex, this place was an error, a blind spot in their perfect machine.

  To Scar, it was a shield, a place where the eyes of the enemy could not reach.

  It wasn’t the first time he had hidden in the void. And he doubted it would be the last.

  Scar exhaled, watching the frost curl across the reinforced viewport. The cold didn’t bother him. The silence didn’t either.

  But the waiting—something about it was unbearable.

  His grip tightened on the data crystal in his hand, its smooth surface catching the faint glow of the cockpit’s monitors. A blueprint. A mission. The next step forward.

  And yet, his thoughts weren’t here.

  They were elsewhere.

  They were with her.

  Star.

  He was out here, to keep her beyond their reach.

  He had sworn to protect her, sworn that nothing would happen to her.

  He had made promises—bold, unwavering promises that he would be there.

  That he wouldn’t fail her.

  Yet here he was, locked in a suicide mission that might not even make a difference.

  The thought burned deeper than any wound, deeper than the scars that littered his body.

  I won't let her become their sacrifice.

  The words echoed in his head, over and over, like a slow, relentless tide eroding whatever was left of his patience.

  He thought of her—not as the figure the rebels worshiped, not as the savior the resistance needed, but as the girl who had once placed her arms around him and whispered—

  "You are more than what they fear."

  The girl who had never looked at him like a monster.

  A sharp beep from the console pulled him from his thoughts.

  The patrol vessel was approaching—an enemy transport rerouted on orders from Lithari resistance agents embedded within Mimas.

  Scar sat up, rotating his neck, a soft crack echoing in the silence, forcing himself back into the present.

  The mission was all that mattered now.

  The Lithari’s intel had been precise enough to confirm its route, but that didn’t mean they could be trusted.

  Trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford—not here, not now.

  The patrol vessel carried more than Ferrex units.

  It carried Helrak conscripts, bound for training facilities deep within Ferrex-controlled space.

  Scar tightened his grip on the hilt of his cryo-tempered blade, the icy metal biting against his skin. His mind steadied, the weight of action pushing away the weight of doubt.

  He had made a promise.

  And he would keep it.

  Star was the reason he fought.

  The reason he refused to let the world turn him into the weapon they wanted.

  Without her, he didn’t know who he would be—

  Or if he would fight at all.

  He wasn’t a beacon of light.

  He was fire—wild, dangerous, unpredictable. A flame that burned brightest before it consumed itself.

  That might be exactly what Saturn's orbit needed.

  Not a savior. Not a hero.

  Just fire—blazing a path through the darkness.

  No matter what it burned along the way.