Beneath the Dragon’s Wing

The command center lay in ruins—a skeletal husk of what had once been the nerve center of an empire. What remained was a ghostly monument to decay and silence, broken only by the low hum of failing systems and the occasional hiss of ruptured coolant lines. The once-polished floor, which had echoed with orders and footsteps, was now littered with shards of shattered screens, tangled wiring, and the broken teeth of machines that had once spoken with authority.

Dust drifted lazily through the stale air, catching in the pale flicker of emergency lights that struggled to stay alive. It settled like ash—silent, heavy, a residue of forgotten sins. Above, cables dangled from the cracked ceiling like entrails severed from their lifeblood, swaying gently in the recycled air, useless and lifeless.