Chapter 87: Descent Over Myr’Vara, Capital of the Thalor

The skies over Myr'Vara, the sacred bastion-city of the Thalor and seat of the Zelith High Council, darkened not from storm or eclipse but from a colossal, descending shadow. A titanic, black-edged monolith pyramid broke through the planetary clouds, its descent slow and exact, as if reality itself parted to allow its arrival.

The monolith's surface shimmered with ancient Mahasimu glyphs pulsing with voidlight. Gravity coils howled. Nano-scarabs millions of insectoid construct-drones spilled from its upper hatches, forming a whirling defensive entrenchment around its landing zone within seconds. Then, just as suddenly, they vanished back into its obsidian hull.

Moments later, a piercing wail erupted from the monolith an anti-harmonic screech that cracked stone and dropped lesser Thalor soldiers to their knees in agony. Only the faceless warriors, unburdened by ears, remained unmoved. One other also stood serene amid the cacophony: War Seer Kal'mor-Zai, his silver mask gleaming, calm as the stars. As a Seer, he could silence his senses at will. It was law that no non-seer ever glimpsed a seer's face. The mask was sacred.

Then: stillness. The shriek vanished, and a suffocating silence fell.

The monolith's central ramp hissed, creaked, then unfolded. Beyond it was only blackness a hungry dark that clung to the world around it, refusing to yield even a glimpse of its depths.

In the Grand Chamber of the Zelith High Council, panic took root.

A young guard burst in, voice hoarse:

"Councilors! A massive black craft descending at the gates of Myr'Vara!"

Arcane monitors flared red. Councilors stood, barked orders, exchanged frantic thoughts over neural links. The echo of the monolith's wail had already reached them.

"High General Vrakhar," said Elder Xiran, "mobilize immediately."

By his side were newly promoted General Verka and Elite Commander Serath, grim and armored. The trio, followed by a commando battalion, raced to confront what no Thalor had ever seen.

The Opening

Before the gates of Myr'Vara, the faceless stood still, as though awaiting prophecy. The black monolith loomed. Then, at last, a voice issued from within Vaelora's.

"Ruthen. Begin the escort."

From the shroud emerged the first figures: ten Thal'Karn, chained to neural-link handlers, led by Ruthen herself her eyes glowing pale violet. The beasts growled low, teeth slick with venom.

Then followed ten Ancient Shadow Troopers, clad in baroque onyx armor with glowing crimson visors. Their every step echoed with weight and dread.

Behind them came Vaelora, draped in the dark regal silks of the Mahasimu, flanked by her twin attendants Tamun and Je'ka each bearing the new insignia: Twin Heads of the Lesser Attendants.

Finally came Eleena, expression etched with fury, her single remaining arm flexing.

Across from them stood Vrakhar, Verka, Serath, and Kal'mor-Zai the envoy of the Broken Seers.

"Whisperer Vaelora," Vrakhar intoned with authority. "Welcome. I will escort you to the palace."

Vaelora said nothing. Ruthen gave a single whistle. The Thal'Karn beasts fell in line.

As they moved, the monolith's ramp began to seal with a low moan, darkness pulling back into itself. The sound of its locking bolts echoed for miles.

As they walked toward the palace, Vaelora spoke without turning:

"Admiral Kia asked me to tell you she awaits you, Elite Commander Serath."

Serath replied evenly, "We'll meet again on the battlefield. Do not fret."

Then Eleena stepped forward, her voice cold, full of venom:

"You Kal'mor-Zai. Filthy Seer. I swear by the ancient stars, you will not leave this world. I will cut you down myself, keep your soul locked in a pain-stasis, and offer your corpse to the Original Faceless King—the first to ascend in silence and shadow."

Kal'mor-Zai chuckled darkly behind his mask.

"If you lose another arm, I suppose I'll finally be worthy of your attention."

"You should be more concerned," Eleena growled. "This time, it isn't just me. Grand Star Lord Malgus is here."

The Seer paused.

"Malgus…" he muttered.

Eleena's eyes narrowed.

"And Dark Traya walks beside him. You remember her the first and only to bear the title: The Silence That Consumes. The first to start the original linage of the Faceless Kings in your own history. We remember that poor boy she left alive to wonder the galaxy until he found you and his world she toremented just for disobeying the ancient queens will."

Kal'mor-Zai stopped walking. Everyone halted behind him. Even his mask couldn't hide the ripple of dread in his posture.

Break in the Council

In the glistening obsidian chambers of the Broken Seers' Council, the Grand Blind One sat elevated in a throne that thrummed with psionic signals.

A screen pulsed to life, relaying Eleena's words.

"He is here," the Blind One murmured. "Malgus. And Traya."

The five Seer Lords around him sat silently.

Eldest Brother 1 clenched his fingers. "Prepare all faceless divisions for full deployment."

Brother 3 growled, "We underestimated them."

Mid-Sister II, her head wrapped in starmist veils, raised her voice:

"The Children of Ralkesh stir. Their energy spiked at Relay Station Echo-12. They are leaving their system. I recommend dispatching a tracker group immediately."

"Agreed," said the Blind One. "Send your best. But focus here. The Mahasimu are not just warring—they are resurrecting their gods."

Youngest Brother 4, his voice sharp and bitter, added:

"This war will be nothing like we expected. We face a return of the First Epoch."