The data-stream from the deep-space probe was a silent, screaming testament to a power that defied comprehension. In the command center of Haven, the nascent Triad watched, their fragile alliance cemented by a shared, chilling horror. The Reality Engine was no longer a schematic or a threat on a timeline. It was alive.
It hung in the void around the red giant star Carthax, a structure of such scale and non-Euclidean geometry that it hurt the mind to observe it for long. It was not a sphere but a constantly shifting kaleidoscope of interlocking silver and gold mechanisms, each piece the size of a moon, moving in a silent, perfect ballet. It didn't orbit the star; it caged it. Pulsing veins of light, the color of fresh blood, throbbed across its surface, each pulse syphoning a fraction of t
