The pact with the Starborne was a cold, hard thing, forged in the aftermath of a vision of absolute erasure. There were no oaths sworn on ancient relics, no fealty pledged. There was only a shared, chilling understanding and the transfer of data. Elara provided them with a crystalline data-sliver containing the true, unredacted star-charts, its surface etched with the pulsating, angry red of the corrupted veins.
"The Cradle of the First Beast is shielded by primordial energies," the Asteri had warned, his voice a dry rustle. "Even with these charts, pinpointing the Tribunal's exact operation will be like finding a specific grain of sand on a dark beach. The Dusk Manifest itself is a void; it does not register. You will be tracking the sickness that feeds it."
It was enough. It had to be.
