The constellation dimmed to a low, steady pulse.
No alarms fractured the silence.
No tremors rippled along the sovereign boundary they had drawn.
Beyond that luminous perimeter, the Predator's divided halves lingered at extreme range—distant distortions against the curvature of space. They watched. Calculated. Adjusted their orbits in slow, deliberate arcs.
But they did not advance.
Inside the Convergence Axis, the war-hum that had driven them through ignition, compression, and survival finally began to ebb.
The chamber responded first.
Its radiant geometry softened from sharp tactical brilliance to a muted aurora glow. Projection rings slowed. Telemetry streams dissolved into faint drifting motes before fading entirely.
Ethan lowered himself onto the central projection dais with controlled exhaustion. The movement was small, but the system felt it. The Axis recalibrated to his diminished intensity, lowering ambient luminance and temperature to a more restorative state.
