The Eternal Voyager sailed through the vast reaches of space, guided by the keen senses of its crew. Stars streaked past in brilliant streams of light as the ship made its way toward an uncharted section of the universe. What awaited them, however, was not a hidden treasure or forgotten planet—it was something far darker.
Drakken, perched at the edge of the ship, growled low in his throat. The air around him seemed to shimmer with the intensity of his flame, though no fire escaped his scales.
"Something's wrong," he muttered, his voice thick with unease. "There's too much… death here."
The Realm Lord stood beside him, his gaze fixed on the distant nebula that pulsed ominously in the distance. Even from their position, he could feel the heavy, oppressive energy emanating from it, like a wound in the fabric of the universe. This wasn't just a war zone—it was a cursed battlefield.
"We're approaching the source," he said softly. "I can feel it."
