Far from the safety of familiar stars, in the desolate expanse of the Beyond, the remnants of the Rakshasa horde were gathering. They were broken, scattered, and leaderless, yet still driven by the primal instinct that had guided them for eons. An instinct to return—to the place from which they had come, to their origin.
They didn't know where it was. They didn't know why they were drawn there. But something deep within them, something woven into the very fabric of their beings, pulled them forward, guiding them through the endless void.
For days—maybe weeks—they had been drifting through the darkness, evading the relentless cultivators who hunted them. They had once been a mighty force, a scourge that tore through worlds with merciless efficiency. But now? Now they were little more than prey, running from the very beings they once terrorized.
