JVMenjivar

Astashica: Eternal Starborn Dominion

"Listen well, child of the twin suns. The land speaks, the winds whisper, and the rivers carry old songs. But there is one voice that does not sing, one truth that sleeps beneath your feet. The world you stand upon is not what you believe it to be."

The Xothek Galaxy is gone, consumed by its own hunger for power. The Asemeri once shaped the stars, bending light and void to their will. Their greatest creation, the Formicrons, built empires that stood for millennia.  

But Xothek fell—not to time, nor to gods, but to its own arrogance.  

The Azurevat fire erased them. Cities vanished. Kingdoms dissolved into the abyss. And the last Asemeri fled aboard the Defiance Vanguard, a warship of lost power, its runes still pulsing with ancient knowledge. They sought refuge. They found Astashica.  

A world of twin suns. A world veiled in Light. A world that does not belong to them.  

For three hundred cycles, the Asemeri ruled. They carved their names into the mountains, built their towers over rivers, but Astashica is awake. It watches. It remembers.  

Now, the shadow returns.  

Cosmus has returned. The exile. The usurper. The last remnant of a dead empire. His fleet blackens the sky. His armies rise from the abyss. And in his grasp? The final Azurevat missile—the fire that once shattered the heavens.  

And in the path of destruction, one man stands.  

Tlandar. Son of two worlds. A man of soil and harvest. A man who should have lived his days in peace.  

But war does not ask who you wish to be. It demands who you must become.  

Flee, and the twin suns will set forever.  
Stand, and awaken the Light once more.  

He takes the blade. He spills the blood. He walks the path of no return.  

The Defiance Vanguard looms overhead.  
The Azurevat fire waits in silence.  
The Formicrons stir beneath the sands.  
The ancient Asemeri cores pulse in the dark.  

But beneath it all—beneath the ruins, beneath the rivers, beneath the very bones of this world—there is something older than the Asemeri.  

Something forgotten.  
Something that was never meant to wake.  

This is not a war for land. This is not a war for power.  

This is a war for the right to exist.  

And so I ask, child of the twin suns—will you fight for the Light, or will you let the darkness take it?"

ASTASHICA: Eternal Starborn Dominion

A Measured Welcome

The air around Boulderkeep Stockade was thick with tension as Tlandar and his two hundred Salgaran pilots stood before Val'katl's warriors. The sound of the wind howling through the stockade's battlements was the only noise that filled the void between them.

The Val'katlan pilots stood in tight formation, their Formicrons lined across the landing platforms, their weapons primed but at rest. They did not raise their rifles or activate their battle machines—but neither did they welcome the newcomers openly.

For a long moment, neither side moved.

Then, the outer gate creaked open.

A second guard, clad in heavier armor and bearing the sigil of Val'katl's war council, stepped forward. He studied Tlandar carefully, his dark eyes narrowing as he assessed the man before him.

"You speak of Astashica's will," the warrior said, his tone skeptical. "Yet I see only Salgaran forces. Why would a queen send warriors to fight a war that is not hers?"

His reply would decide whether they were treated as allies or intruders.

He straightened his stance, his voice steady.

"Val'katl's war is not his alone." His gaze swept over the gathered warriors, making sure each man heard him. "Ixtiel threatens not only this land but the balance of all Astashica. Chieftain Salgar sent us because she knows that if Val'katl falls, the war will not stop here."

A few of the Val'katlan warriors exchanged glances.

The guard commander remained silent, considering.

"Very well," he said. "You may enter. But only you will meet with Chieftain Val'katl. Your warriors remain here until he gives his word."

Tlandar turned his head slightly, glancing at Akashma, who had stood at his side in silence.

It was expected. Trust was never given freely in Val'katl. It had to be earned.

Tlandar followed the guard through Boulderkeep's fortified corridors. The walls were etched with battle records, each engraving depicting an ancient victory or a hard-fought stand. The very stones bore the weight of generations of war.

The further they walked, the louder the stockade became.

Warriors sharpening blades, strategists poring over maps, pilots adjusting Formicron controls. This was no ceremonial fortress.

At last, they reached the Hall of Warriors, a grand chamber lined with battle banners from past wars, the air thick with the scent of burning resin and tempered steel.

At the far end of the hall, standing before a war table covered in holomaps and combat reports, was Chieftain Val'katl.

He was larger than Tlandar expected.

Broad-shouldered, his heavy armor layered with reinforced plating, his face marked by old battle scars. His presence commanded the room—even the warriors near him seemed to stand taller in his presence.

He turned as Tlandar approached, his eyes like polished steel.

The silence in the chamber was absolute.

"I am Tlandar Vel'karas, Protector of Astashica. I was sent by Chieftain Salgar to fight at your side—to stand with you against Ixtiel, and to end this war together."

Then, Val'katl gave a small, knowing nod.

"You speak with certainty," he said. "But words do not decide battles. War does."

Now, he would prove himself worthy to stand beside Val'katl.

The Gates of Boulderkeep