Lucifer_7906

In a universe where power is not just inherited but measured, where noble houses rule with an iron grip, and where the weak are forgotten, one exile will uncover a secret never meant to be known.

Banished from the celestial courts and cast into the void, Kael Veyrin was supposed to die. Yet, against fate itself, he survives. In the depths of oblivion, he stumbles upon an artifact older than the Dominion itself, whispering truths that have been buried for millennia. The system that governs all life is incomplete. The noble houses are not what they seem. And beyond the furthest stars, something watches, waiting.

Hunted by assassins, pursued by a relentless enforcer, and entangled in a war he never sought, Kael must navigate a web of power, betrayal, and forgotten history. As the fabric of reality begins to unravel, one question remains—

Was his fall a punishment... or a design?

Ascendancy: The Fractured Throne

Raxis Trade Hub, Outer Reaches

Year 9783 C.C. – Seven Days After the Trial

Kael stood at the edge of a rusted walkway, overlooking the underbelly of Raxis Trade Hub.

Below him, hundreds of traders, mercenaries, and smugglers moved through the neon-lit maze of corridors. The air was thick with the scent of engine oil, smoke, and the faint metallic tang of processed oxygen.

He wasn't focused on the chaos. He was listening.

For the last two days, whispers of his survival had spread through the station like wildfire. No official bounty. No Dominion kill squads. Just rumors, questions, and hushed conversations.

Someone was making sure his name didn't die.

Juno leaned against the railing beside him, chewing on a piece of spiced protein jerky. "So, what's the plan, princeling? Stand here looking ominous until the truth reveals itself?"

Kael didn't react. "I need to know who's talking about me."

Juno sighed. "Fine. But you're buying the drinks after."

She led him through the winding corridors toward a rundown bar on the lower decks. The kind of place where people traded information as easily as credits.

The sign above the door flickered with broken neon text:

The bar was filled with the hum of low conversations, the clink of glasses, and the quiet hum of hidden weapons.

Juno spotted a dark-skinned man with cybernetic implants sitting alone in a corner booth. He looked up, recognizing her immediately.

"You again?" The man—Taro—grinned. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon, Reyes."

Juno slid into the seat across from him. "We need information."

Taro raised an eyebrow, glancing at Kael. "Ah. The noble exile. You've been popular lately."

Kael's expression didn't change. "Who's spreading my name?"

Taro chuckled, tapping on his cybernetic wrist interface. "See, that's the interesting part. There's no single source. The whispers started at the same time in different places. That doesn't happen by accident."

Taro leaned forward. "Meaning someone wants people talking about you—but they don't want to be found."

Juno narrowed her eyes. "That's a lot of effort for a dead man."

Kael exhaled slowly. This wasn't just someone noticing his survival.

Someone was placing his name like bait.

Taro tapped a few more commands on his wrist interface. "I can give you a name. A location. But if I were you, I'd be careful."

Juno rolled her eyes. "We're never careful."

The contact information appeared as a holo-display. A name. A meeting place.

Kael memorized it. Then, he stood.

Juno gave him a long look. "You're really gonna walk into this, huh?"

Kael met her gaze. "If someone is using my name, I want to know why."

Juno sighed. "Fine. But if this gets us killed, I'm haunting you in the afterlife."

They left the bar, stepping into the shadows of Raxis once more.

The location was an abandoned docking bay, deep in the lower levels of the station.

Dim overhead lights flickered, casting eerie shadows against the rusted metal walls. The air was stale, the scent of burnt plasma lingering in the corridors.

Kael stepped forward, scanning the area. No sign of movement.

Juno rested her hand on her pistol. "This smells like a setup."

A voice echoed from the darkness.

"It took you long enough, Veyrin."

A hooded figure stepped out of the shadows. Their face was obscured by a tactical mask, voice modulated.

"I was beginning to think you weren't real."

Kael's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

The figure chuckled. "Not important. What is important… is why you're still alive."

Kael's muscles tensed. The trap was set.

Now, he had to figure out who laid it—and why.

Chapter 13: The Baited Trap