The edges of the Luvian Drift had always been cloaked in superstition. It was a spectral corner of the universe, known only to the most elusive starfarers and whispered about by guilds who trafficked in secrets. Some claimed the Drift was a place of forgotten gods, a realm haunted by the echoes of cosmic tragedies.
It was here that the Sable Crescent drifted—a sleek, stealth-fitted survey craft from the Lunar Kingdom of Eistia, its form hidden beneath a veil of radiant shadows. Captain Yuzen Raiel regarded the darkness beyond the hull with a quiet, almost predatory intensity. The Luvian Drift was her territory now, a landscape to conquer and decipher.
Beside her, her first officer, Rysara Zyne, examined the data streaming through the ship's sensors, her sharp, feline eyes narrowing at the sight of unfamiliar glyphs flickering across her screen.
"Captain," Rysara's voice was taut with contained excitement, "we've detected an energy signature. It's unlike anything we've encountered. Coordinates at 100.29, Lumar-15."
Yuzen raised a dark eyebrow, her gaze flicking to the console. "Is it stable?"
"Barely." Rysara adjusted the display, showing a cluster of symbols drifting in an unnatural spiral. "It's radiating a sequence…almost like a pulse. And the symbols…they resemble proto-Kazarian script from the Epoch of Seven Suns."
Captain Yuzen leaned forward, the faintest smile crossing her lips. "The Seven Suns. This is rare, even for the Drift." The Epoch of Seven Suns was a myth in most systems, a supposed era when the universe's greatest technologies had flourished, only to disappear in a singular, cosmic event called the Rending.
The ship's AI, Orion-9, chimed in, its voice resonant and unhurried. "Analysis complete. The signature matches ancient readings from the Forge of Roantra, a construct long thought to be a myth."
Rysara let out a low breath. "The Roantra Forge… Isn't that said to be where the Celestial Frames were born?"
"Precisely," Orion-9 replied. "Records indicate it as the origin of the ancient Celestial Frame technology, the constructs that bound stars to their life spans."
Yuzen's eyes glittered with ambition. The Celestial Frames were artifacts beyond reckoning—machines that could, if awakened, change the tides of empires. And if this signal belonged to them, then her mission could become something far more valuable.
"Bring us within two clicks of the coordinates," she ordered, her voice edged with command. "Let's see if the myths have any truth to them."
The Sable Crescent glided forward, her hull cloaked in the stealth veil. As they closed the distance, the object finally came into focus on their screens—a vast structure, crystalline and complex, suspended in the empty void like a frozen explosion. The intricate geometry of its form suggested a purpose beyond mortal comprehension.
And at the structure's center, there was a single glyph glowing in pulsing amber. The symbol was old—older than the stars that cast their dim light upon it. It was the emblem of Vashira, the goddess of entropy and memory, who, according to legend, had once sealed a portion of the universe away to protect its secrets from mortal hands.
Yuzen felt the thrill of discovery crawl up her spine. Here, in the depths of the Drift, was something that defied the boundaries of knowledge—a lost monument to an ancient power, a relic of Aetherborn design.
"What are your readings, Orion-9?" she asked, her voice hushed but firm.
"It is emitting low-grade radiation. No danger, but there is an energy buildup consistent with an activation protocol," Orion-9 replied. "I would advise extreme caution."
Yuzen smirked. Caution had never led to greatness. "Prepare the resonance spike. Let's give it something to wake up to."
The crew worked quickly, tuning the ship's own energy field to a low hum, a frequency meant to harmonize with the ancient device. Yuzen felt the familiar hum of the resonance spike as it synced with the glyph, sending a low wave that trembled through the hull of the ship.
Suddenly, the structure responded—a low, sonorous chime that seemed to echo not only through space but through their very bones. It was a sound rich with age and intent, reverberating through the ship, almost like a voice.
Then, a voice did come.
"Seekers of life…ones who walk with shadowed hearts…" The tone was fractured, as if it had traveled eons to reach them. "Who among you…dares to unbind the Forge of Memory?"
Rysara's eyes widened, her gaze locked on Yuzen. "Captain, this…this isn't just a signal. This is a sentient response."
Yuzen's mind whirred with possibility. They were on the verge of contact with a living fragment of the past, a sentience tied to the Celestial Frames, or perhaps even to the Godsmiths themselves—the mythical engineers rumored to have designed the Frames during the Lost Age.
"Forge of Memory," Yuzen repeated, her voice calm and measured. "We are explorers from the Lunar Kingdom. We seek knowledge and understanding."
There was a silence, deep and profound, as if the structure itself was weighing her words.
"A mortal's request is simple," the voice answered, its tones shifting and darkening. "But only those of the Sundered Veil may pass beyond this threshold. Only they may know what was…before the Void."
Yuzen narrowed her eyes. "The Sundered Veil…you mean those of the Aetherborn lineages? They've been extinct for millennia."
The voice was soft, almost mocking. "Extinct? All things of flesh fade, but Aether remains. You, child of Luna, are but a thread of one. Blood remembers."
The bridge was silent, the crew awash in awe and unease. Rysara seemed hesitant, as if the sheer scale of what they were hearing weighed on her. "Captain, if this entity is linked to the Aetherborn…then it may have access to secrets about our origin, about all life. This…is a piece of history that predates even the Lunar Kingdom."
Yuzen nodded, feeling the weight of the moment. She faced the ethereal presence, her voice low. "We've come this far, Keeper of the Forge. We're prepared to walk the Sundered Veil."
As if in response, the glyph at the center of the structure pulsed once more, its light casting an eerie glow over the crew. The structure began to shift, the crystalline lattice unfolding, revealing a dark passageway lined with luminescent runes.
Yuzen felt the weight of the past pressing in, the echoes of long-forgotten memories surrounding them. "We're entering," she said, her voice a quiet command.
The Sable Crescent drifted forward, crossing into the heart of the Forge. As the ship entered, the passage closed behind them, and the vastness of space disappeared, replaced by a dizzying swirl of light and shadow, a vortex of forgotten worlds and ancient star systems. It was as if they'd entered the mind of the universe itself—a place where past, present, and future tangled and coiled like threads on a cosmic loom.
And then, suddenly, they were surrounded by phantoms—flickering, ghostly figures adorned in robes of shimmering stardust, each face hidden behind a mask of liquid crystal. These were the Luminarchs, the ancient protectors of the Forge. Their voices overlapped, a chorus of whispers and echoes.
"Only those who surrender their memories may pass," they intoned. "For the Forge does not grant knowledge; it takes."
Yuzen stared at them, feeling the chill of the words sink into her. "If that's the cost," she whispered, "then I accept."