No Way Back
The Wraith's hull groaned as it slipped past the boundary of Architect space—a place where maps became meaningless and every star felt like it was watching.
From the command deck, Elara stared at the void beyond the viewport. "We're in," she murmured.
Nova adjusted the trajectory manually. "Feels like flying into a mouth that forgot how to close."
Valen checked the radar. "No signals, no interference. Too quiet."
"Exactly," Damien muttered, tapping at the console. "No decay signatures, no civilian transmissions… not even radiation drift. It's like this region of space has been sterilized."
Aeron leaned forward, eyes sharp. "It means the Fourth Seed is close. And it doesn't want company."
Elara swallowed. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled. "Then we do what we came to do. We find it before it finds us."
They didn't speak after that.
There was nothing left to say.
Ghost Frequencies
