Astraeus sat alone in the command chair, the ship silent around him.
The vessel was unlike anything the empire produced. Its lines were sleek, not bulky, built for speed rather than war. Every surface hummed with technologies beyond comprehension, layered with magic on top, woven into the alloy itself. Spells that bent light, sound, and signal all crisscrossed in an impossibly complex pattern.
From the outside, there was no ship, only another patch of eternal darkness with stars occasionally twinkling.
Inside, the Archon of Space reclined with his chin in one hand, his pale eyes fixed on the view beyond the forward screen.
Out there, two fleets were becoming one.
The Blood banners were easy to see, crimson icons splashed across the hulls of their largest ships. Spines jutted from the vessels, more ornament than defense, gilded with runes carved in the name of sacrifice.
