The silence of the Starseed, Roewi’s personal shuttle, was a lie. It was not the peaceful quiet of deep space, but a fragile shell containing a storm. He sat in the pilot's chair, hands resting on the cool metal of the armrests, his gaze fixed on the star-dusted blackness outside the viewport. The Chronos Garrison was a fading scar of light behind him, a testament to a victory that felt like a defeat. His body was a drained vessel, but his mind was a crowded, cacophonous cathedral.
The three Orbs within him were no longer inert sources of power. They were awake.
It had started as a low hum on the journey back to Haven, a psychic tinnitus he’d mistaken for exhaustion. But now, anchored in the familiar chaos of the rogue asteroid base, the hum had crystallized into distinct, sentient voice
