"They identify themselves as Lireans"

The hours following the impact of the unknown craft off the coast of Cancún had been a whirlwind of feverish activity and unbearable tension. The reconnaissance team led by Kaelen and Ek Chuah, with support from the Punishers, had managed to bring a handful of alien survivors back to the base, badly injured and deeply traumatized. They were tall, almost ethereally thin beings, with skin that glowed with a soft pearly luster under the laboratory lights. Their large, dark eyes, devoid of visible pupils, reflected the terror of a cosmic hunt.

After hours of intense work with his Anunnaki devices and the help of the Umbrian linguists, Enki finally managed to decipher the fundamentals of their complex language, a symphony of harmonic clicks and resonant tones.

"They identify themselves as Lyreans," Enki announced to the assembled war council, fatigue marking his golden face. "Survivors of the destruction of their homeworld in the Vega system, countless eons ago, during the early and most brutal phases of the Lyran Wars. This vessel was the last of a small flotilla of refugees, fleeing a systematic purge perpetrated by the combined forces of Cthulhu and the Luciferian Netlin in the Sirius sector. They were shot down while attempting to reach what they perceived as an 'anomaly of hope'... the awakening energy of Gaia and your 'Anchor of Coherence.'"

The leader of the Lyreans, a being named Kael'Thara whose pearly skin was crisscrossed with fine, faintly glowing scars, stepped forward, his body still trembling from the trauma, but his dark eyes burning with feverish determination. Enki translated their resonating words.

"We saw your light from the darkness of the void," Enki transmitted the voice of Kael'Thara. "The resonance of a planet that refuses to die, the will of consciousnesses fighting against dissolution. Our civilization has fallen, our fleets are stellar ash. We have nothing left but the knowledge accumulated over eons of struggle against the Thought-Eater and his Coldlight heralds. We offer all we know: the science of our star-weaving ancestors, the tactics that once held back the Great Old Ones at the dawn of time, the secrets of navigation through the folds of reality, the inherent weaknesses we have documented at the heart of Cthulhu's madness... all of this we offer you, in exchange for one thing only: the chance to fight alongside you. To avenge our people. To ensure that at least one more world does not fall to his jaws."

The offer was staggering. But what Kael'Thara proposed next brought icy silence to the room.

"The Deep Sleeper, Cthulhu," the Lirean continued through Enki, "is an entity whose power is founded on fear. It projects it like a plague, corrupts reality through it, feeds on the dissonance it creates in the Grid of Consciousness. Attempting to contain it from the periphery, with shields and barriers, is a useless effort against a cosmic tide. Its psychic tentacles will always find a crack."

His dark eyes fixed on each person present. "The most... direct... and, although it may seem foolish, the most effective way to combat its influence is to confront it at its own nexus of power. Where its connection to your world is strongest, there it is also, paradoxically, most vulnerable to a disruption of pure, focused will."

He gestured vaguely toward the floor. "We know, from the resonance that drew us, that your emissaries—those small and brave spirits of the earth, the Aluxes—already fight in the depths, near one of their foci at the heart of your planet. That is the way! We must take the battle to Hollow Earth! We must confront Cthulhu in his own sanctuary before his consciousness settles fully on this plane and turns your world into another citadel of nightmare and silence!"

The audacity of the plan took everyone's breath away.

"Confront him head-on, without fear!" Kael'Thara insisted, her voice now a fervent telepathic plea that everyone felt, even Dracula. "Fear is his greatest weapon, his primal nourishment. If we show him a united will, a consciousness that does not break in the face of his terror, we can wound his very essence! We can even banish his manifestation from this plane!"

Terror gripped many in the room. Elena Rossi and her team of scientists visibly paled. "Go... go to Cthulhu?" Javier stammered. "To Hollow Earth, a place we know absolutely nothing about! With all due respect, that's guaranteed suicide! Our physics, our biology... we're not remotely prepared for such an environment, let alone a direct confrontation with a... an entity of that magnitude." Mateo, the young

A psychic, he trembled visibly, the harsh truth of the Lirean's words warring against the instinctive dread they provoked in him.

Even some of the Umbra magi seemed skeptical. "To confront an Ancient One in its own lair..." an old sorcerer muttered. "It is an arrogance that not even the gods of old dared contemplate." Sorcha of the Crimson Hand shook her head, her dark eyes reflecting the madness of the proposal.

Dracula, however, showed a flash of predatory interest in his red eyes. "Fearless, they say," he mused, the echo of a dangerous smile on his lips. "A bold claim for beings who have just crashed while fleeing their enemies. But the idea of ​​a direct blow to the beast's heart... has a certain brutal appeal. Though the Hollow Earth... is an uncharted slaughterhouse, even to me."

Aria felt a strange resonance with Kael'Thara's words. The fear was real, paralyzing her, but beneath it, her new magic vibrated with a frequency that seemed to say yes, this is the truth, this is the way. "If there is an opportunity," she said, her voice trembling but steady, "however infinitesimal... can we afford not to take it?"

Quetzal, who had listened with the impassivity of a mountain, spoke. "Xibalba, the heart of the world... is a place of great power, yes, but also of unfathomable trials and soul-devouring dangers. To enter there with the intent of war against the Deep Sleeper is to willingly walk into the jaws of the cosmic jaguar. But," and her amber eyes rested on Kael'Thara, "sometimes, only he who dares to look the jaguar in the eye has a chance of surviving his hunt."

The Lireans, with the desperation of a race on the brink of extinction, had thrown down an impossible gauntlet. Their plan was suicidal madness, or perhaps the only spark of hope in a night that threatened to become eternal. The decision to follow these survivors of a star war into the very heart of darkness and madness now fell on the shoulders of the fragile alliance in Cancun. Time for second thoughts was running out as quickly as the world's sanity.