Starbrigde
Ogier Tower, Kelito city
Agartha, Anu Solar system
Divine Federation
Pan 19th Y-1889 C.E
Jonathan Haravok walked among the corpses of his comrades, his footsteps heavy as ashes and dust swirled through the air, masking much of the damage done to the Control post at Ogier Tower. He still couldn't comprehend how things had spiraled so horribly out of control. For years, he had braced himself for some form of attack from the Dissenters, thinking he was prepared. But their surprise assault had caught him completely off guard. The attack on Starlight Temple, where most of the members of the Stellar Council had gathered, was something Jonathan had never even considered a possibility. Starlight Temple was sacred ground—sacred to both the Starlight Order and the religion of Annunaki. It was a place where the People of Agartha came to worship the Divine Emperor, where pilgrims from various Quadrants of the Universe arrived to learn about the gods of the Pantheon. It was also the resting place of the Twelve Saints. Jonathan had naively assumed that, due to the oaths the Dissenters had sworn, they would never cross such a line. He had been wrong. If one were to break an oath, attacking the very site where they had sworn it seemed like the most fitting betrayal.
Jonathan's mind raced as he processed everything that had happened, so much of it beyond belief. Yet the most troubling thing of all was the feeling in his gut when he had confronted the Dissenters' leader. It was that nagging sensation that had driven him to chase them all the way to Ogier Tower. His mind flashed back to the events that had led him to this point.
"Admiral Haravok, I wasn't sure if you'd be attending the meeting tonight," came the voice of Sheva Bothrag, the Grand Admiral of the Starlight Order, as Jonathan passed him in the hallway leading to the Council chamber. Jonathan's gaze hardened at the sight of the old man. Despite the Twelve Saints' rest, Sheva Bothrag was the ultimate power within the council. His vote determined the course of action for the Starlight Order, and unfortunately for Jonathan, Bothrag was a staunch traditionalist. He clung to the old ways, believing that neither Starlight nor the Federation needed to change. He was the antithesis of Jonathan.
"No, I've already spoken my thoughts on the matter," Jonathan said, his voice firm. "I won't stand by and watch as the council walks down this path."
"This path?" Sheva Bothrag echoed, his tone dismissive. "These so-called rebels are tainting the peace—the sacred gift given to us by the Dingir."
"Peace can be subjective," Jonathan snapped. "Your idea of peace may not align with theirs."
Sheva's brows furrowed in disapproval. "You're still grieving the loss of Arexander Pendragon," he said, his voice cold. "I will allow you this absence for now. But at the next meeting, you must attend, or your position as Admiral will be revoked." With that, he turned and walked into the council chamber.
Jonathan stood there, his anger simmering as he watched the old man leave. His heart ached with the memory of his fallen friend. Not a day went by that Jonathan didn't regret returning without Arexander, making Rex Junior an orphan—just like Jonathan himself had been. He forced the painful thoughts away, focusing instead on what was at stake. The Stellar Council was about to convene and decide the fate of the Fallen Stars—a group of Pleiadians who opposed the conservative views of Starlight and the Federation. Though not an extremist group, their dissent was growing louder, challenging the very foundation of their authority. Jonathan knew that if the council didn't sit down and listen to them, things could escalate beyond repair. Jonathan sought a path to change, a prosperous future for the Federation—but he knew violence was not the answer. That was why he had never truly joined the Fallen Stars. He also recognized the deep corruption within the Federation, which made him certain of what that meeting would entail.
A soft ping broke his thoughts. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his Zodiak, activating it. A hologram of his wife appeared. Her bronze-colored hair framed her petite face, her blue eyes radiating warmth. She was the most beautiful woman in the universe, the one he loved more than anything, along with their son, Leon.
"So, how did it go?" she asked.
"Not well," Jonathan replied. "The meeting's about to start. I thought I could talk them down, prevent what's coming. But it's no good."
"We could try speaking to the President," Julia suggested.
"And what will that do?" Jonathan countered. "The Federation sees the Fallen Stars as a threat, just like Starlight. Everything about them challenges the Federation's authority."
"It's too bad I couldn't be president," Julia sighed.
Jonathan smiled, remembering the election she had been a part of. Though she had lost, he was proud of her efforts. She wasn't born into the Federation, but she had embraced it as fully as he had.
"It matters not," Jonathan said. "For now, I think we should leave—"
But before he could finish, his six-year-old son, Leon, suddenly appeared on the screen, interrupting him.
"Father, when are you coming back?" Leon's voice was filled with impatience. He looked so much like Jonathan, except for the eyes—the blue eyes he had inherited from Julia. "You promised me you'd continue my training."
"Leonard, now's not the time—" Julia started, but Jonathan's laughter cut her off. Leon was full of energy and rowdiness—traits Jonathan had shared in his own youth. Looking at him, Jonathan saw the full potential in his son. That's why he had named him after the ancestor of their house.
"Don't worry, Leon," Jonathan said with a smile. "I should be back soon. Your and Junior's training will be more intense than last night's."
"I promise I'll do better than Junior this time," Leon grinned.
After Arexander's death, Jonathan had taken his son under his wing, just as he had once been taken in by the Pendragon family after his own parents' death. Now, both Junior and Leon had grown up as brothers. Their rivalry reminded Jonathan of his own relationship with Arexander. He was about to speak when Julia's sudden scream of pain froze him in his tracks.
"Mom, are you okay?" Leon's voice was panicked.
Jonathan immediately recognized what was happening. Julia was having one of her visions again. Though she wasn't a Pleiadian like him or Leon, she wasn't just an ordinary mortal. Julia recovered, pulling Leon away from the screen, and the background shifted from their kitchen to the outside of their mansion. Fear and desperation painted her face.
"Jonathan, it's... you have to come home right now," she said urgently. "Leave the temple."
"What did you see, Julia?" Jonathan's voice was tight with concern. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her body trembled uncontrollably.
"You can change it," she choked out. "It doesn't have to happen…"
"Julia... please... tell me what you saw," Jonathan said, his voice soft but insistent.
Julia struggled to regain her composure before speaking. Her words made Jonathan's knuckles turn white as he clenched his fists, bracing himself for what she had to say.
"So it happens today," Jonathan said quietly, his voice heavy with realization.
"Yes. I'm so sorry, Jonathan," she whispered. "I... I thought we had time... that we could find a way..."
"A fate curse isn't something that can be easily changed," Jonathan said, his voice low. "We knew this day would come sooner or later."
"But if you come home, we can change the path... it doesn't—"
"No," Jonathan interrupted, his mind made up. "Some things are just fixed. They can't be changed." He was thinking beyond the present, considering the future, especially for his son. The fate of the Federation and Starlight was about to shift drastically, and Jonathan was determined that Leon would have a future—a chance to do better than he had.
"Take Leon and Junior," Jonathan said. "Leave the planet, and get to Genesis."
"What about you?" Julia asked, her voice filled with worry.
"I have to stop them," Jonathan said. "The path the Fallen Stars are about to take is not the one we need."
"Jon... you can't stop it," Julia said, her voice breaking.
"I have to try," Jonathan said firmly. If his fate was fixed, the least he could do was ensure no more lives were lost—except for his own. "I love you."
"I love you too," Julia said, tears streaming down her face. She took a shaky breath, then cleared her throat. "Do your best to stay alive."
"I will. And tell Leon how much I love him," Jonathan said, his voice tight. "I was looking forward to training him tonight, but I guess it will have to be postponed."
She nodded, and the call ended. Jonathan sighed and turned toward the exit, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. Solus—the ancestral sword of the Haravok family. Said to be a divine weapon, it had never failed him. He trusted it would not fail him now.
Taking a deep breath, Jonathan stepped forward. In a burst of golden light, he was suddenly in front of the Council chamber door. Without hesitation, he pushed it open, interrupting the ongoing meeting. He strode into the center of the circular room, where twelve Great Paladins of the Starlight Order stood. Six Admirals, and five of the most powerful knights in the Order, were present. Absent were the Twelve Saints, who remained in their Saint sleep.
Sheva Bothrag stood, his expression incredulous. "Admiral Haravok, what is the meaning of this—?"
"An attack is about to happen," Jonathan said, his voice calm but urgent. "The council is in danger."
"In danger of what?" Knight Weil Wilcock asked, clearly surprised by Jonathan's sudden arrival. It wasn't like him to miss a council meeting.
"You refuse to participate in the council meeting, and now you dare burst in making false—"
"It's not false," Jonathan interrupted, his voice unwavering. The room was bathed in the golden glow of the fire goblets that lined the walls. The chamber's silver walls reflected the light, casting long shadows. Outside, the sun was setting, and the night sky was slowly creeping in. At the far end of the room, the floating basin held the most important artifact in the universe—its power pulsating in the air, unnoticed by most in the room.
"Julia has seen what is to come—"
"Do not speak of that witch in this holy space," Sheva Bothrag interrupted, his voice sharp with disdain. Anger surged through Jonathan, and he felt his veins pulse in frustration at the insult to his wife. He knew the council would never believe him. He understood their fear of Julia's power—a force that Starlight could not control, and in their ignorance, they dismissed it as something dark and evil. But Jonathan had reached his breaking point. He stepped forward slowly, closing the distance between himself and the Grand Admiral. He grabbed the top of Sheva's silver robes, his fingers tightening around the fabric at his neck.
"My wife has seen the deaths of everyone in this room," Jonathan growled. "And if we continue to bicker here, thousands of lives will be lost."
Before Sheva could respond, a voice slithered from the shadows, low and menacing.
"It's too late."
Jonathan reacted instantly, the air growing heavy with dark power. He moved as fast as he could, but it was too late. A burst of black flames, fire from the Underworld, erupted, engulfing Sheva Bothrag and the remaining Admirals. The room filled with their fiery screams as they burned in an infernal blaze. Jonathan lunged to the side, reaching the five knights who remained—older Paladins who had been part of a generation lower than the Admirals. Jonathan understood the situation immediately. The attack had been triggered by a spell, one that required certain conditions to work. He and the younger knights were the only ones unaffected. As the flames consumed the older Paladins, Jonathan's thoughts raced. The Fallen Stars had struck first, forcing the council's hand. Their intent was clear: annihilation.
Another explosion rocked the room, this time by the window, and the entire chamber was swallowed by smoke. Jonathan coughed, wiping his eyes as he felt a dark presence enter the room. The smoke cleared, and the remaining Paladins found themselves surrounded. Sentinels—soldiers of the Divine Federation—had appeared, energy blasters aimed directly at them. So even the Sentinels have joined the Fallen Stars, Jonathan thought. It was clear now. The Fallen Stars had made their move, and it was exactly what the council had intended to do to them: destruction.
"Hello, Jonathan Haravok," a voice called from within the thickening haze. A shadowy figure rose from the floor, slowly taking shape. A cloaked figure in white, its hood obscuring their face. The figure was fastened at the shoulder with a gleaming metal pin, the robe lined with color. The Sentinels standing behind the figure wore white armored combat suits, their faces hidden behind dark helmets.
"Who are you?" Jonathan demanded, his senses prickling with the strange, almost nostalgic energy that hummed in the air.
"What have you people done?" Wilcock gasped, his face covered in soot from the burning bodies of the Admirals. "This is not how you bring about reformation!"
"Reformation has already begun," the cloaked figure replied coldly. "For the past two hundred million years since Starlight's founding, it has corrupted the very principles on which it was built. Starlight has degraded the values that once made it great, corrupted by intergalactic interests and mortal greed. The lives they were sworn to protect no longer matter to them."
"And so you see yourselves as what? Freedom fighters?" Wilcock scoffed. "You've become nothing more than terrorists."
"Yes, we fight for freedom," the Fallen answered. "We have sacrificed that which we held dear to save Starlight—to save the Federation and its people who suffer under its yoke. Our uprising has just begun." The Fallen's voice carried a grim finality, and with a sudden burst of red energy, he released a shockwave that disintegrated the basin overhead. A golden object fell from its resting place, and the Fallen caught it effortlessly.
The Paladins gasped as they recognized the object: the Crown of Stars—the most revered artifact of Starlight, a symbol of its power.
"What do you intend to do with the Crown?" Jonathan asked, his eyes flicking to the twenty Sentinels surrounding them. Each one held an energy blaster, their weapons trained on the group. Any wrong move, and they would fire. Jonathan knew that as the last remaining Admiral, the leadership of Starlight now fell to him. It was his responsibility to protect the remaining council members and safeguard Agartha. He had received intelligence from Julia: that more attacks were coming. Key locations of great importance would be targeted next.
"I intend to use the Crown's power," the Fallen said, "unlike Starlight. I will use it to uplift the millions of lives across the universe that are oppressed by the Federation."
"I can't let you do that," Jonathan retorted. "If you do what I think you intend, you'll only sow chaos across the universe."
"Yes," the Fallen replied, his voice chilling, "chaos that will lead to the destruction of this old system. A better way. That is the only path to salvation."
Jonathan didn't hesitate. With lightning speed, he dispatched the two Sentinels directly in front of him. He then turned toward the Fallen, his resolve hardening. But the Fallen moved even faster, using Rapid—a technique that allowed him to appear high above the temple, walking on air as he hovered above them.
Jonathan knew that this battle was far from over.
"I'll see you later, Jonathan Haravok," the Fallen said, his voice tinged with finality, before vanishing into thin air. Jonathan grunted, watching as the remaining knights swiftly finished off the last of the Sentinels. They were the five most powerful knights for a reason—Sentinels with blasters were no match for their skill. Still, Jonathan knew this was only the beginning. More danger was on the horizon.
"Lion-Admiral, what are we to do?" Wilcock asked, his deep voice a stark contrast to the chaos around them. Wilcock was a tall, broad-shouldered man with silver-blond hair, golden-green eyes, and dark brown skin. The remaining knights looked to Jonathan for guidance. He sighed heavily, knowing full well that he would have to take charge.
The chaos to come—he knew it intimately. His wife's prediction was never wrong. Thousands of lives would be sacrificed for the greater good, according to the Fallen Stars. Jonathan didn't agree with their ideals. Senseless killing never sat well with him. He knew what he had to do. He understood the path that lay before him, and he could feel the unspoken plea in the eyes of his fellow Paladins to lead them. He could turn his back on it all—return to his family, to his wife, and his son, and ward—but Jonathan Haravok was not that kind of man. He couldn't walk away.
"Knight Wilcock, head to the Royal Palace and ensure the King and the royal family are safe," Jonathan ordered. "An attack should commence there any moment. Knight Jasamine, Knight Danon, go to the Englier district and secure the shuttle bay. There will be an attack there, too. Knight Ganymede, assist the Science and Research Institute; they should be under assault by now. Joanna..." Jonathan paused as his eyes found Joanna Sinclair, the younger sister of his friend James Sinclair. Her green hair, brown skin, and green eyes were reminiscent of her brother, but it was the toughness in her eyes that made Jonathan treat her as the warrior she was.
"... I need you to go to the Communication Office and relay the news to any Paladins and Sentinels within Agartha or off-planet. Tell them an emergency has occurred and their presence is required here immediately. I also want four Sentinels dispatched to guard the President in the Federation office. Can you do that, please?"
The Star Knights all nodded and saluted Jonathan before they vanished in a blur, using their Rapid Skill to sprint off to their respective missions. Only Joanna remained, a look of fear clouding her usually steady expression.
"Jon, what are you going to do?" she asked softly, her voice thick with concern.
"I'm going after him," Jonathan replied, his voice firm. "Go, now."
Joanna nodded wordlessly before disappearing into the distance. Jonathan closed his eyes, reaching out through the Odyllic, feeling the pull of the Fallen's presence. He traced it to Ogier Tower, where the Starbridge awaited. He had to hurry; there was something deeply unsettling about the Fallen, something Jonathan couldn't shake.
A faint cough broke Jonathan's focus, pulling him back to the present. Among the bodies, he spotted one of the Sentinels still alive, his blood pooling beneath him. His helmet was gone, and Jonathan could see his pale face, slick with sweat, blonde hair matted with blood. The man's mouth opened, and Jonathan could see the effort it took to speak.
"Shh..." Jonathan whispered, placing a hand gently on the dying man's shoulder, trying to stop him from expending what little energy he had left. His eyes were dimming, fading. Jonathan could see the man's struggle to stay alive, but the wound was too deep. As a non-awakened, the man's regenerative abilities weren't enough to save him.
"It's okay," Jonathan murmured. "You don't have to fight anymore. Sleep, and let Irkalla take you to the next life." The man's eyelids fluttered closed, and Jonathan stood, offering him a final moment of peace.
A flash of light through the window caught Jonathan's attention. Across from the Rainbow Bridge, on the other side of the Xeta Beam portal, five figures stood. The Fallen was about to escape with the Crown. Without hesitation, Jonathan unsheathed his sword, Solus, and moved toward the bridge.
"I cannot let you leave with that," Jonathan called to the Fallen.
The Fallen turned, his lips curving into a chuckle that sent a strange wave of nostalgia through Jonathan.
"You're fast," the Fallen said. He passed the Crown to someone beside him. Jonathan's eyes widened as he saw the figure—James Sinclair. Standing next to him was his wife, Sophia Sinclair, holding their baby girl.
"James, what's the meaning of this?" Jonathan demanded, his voice sharp. "When did you join the Fallen Stars?"
James said nothing. He didn't even look at Jonathan.
"You know what to do with the Crown," the Fallen said to James. James gave a stiff nod, and he turned, dragging Sophia and their child toward the portal. They vanished into the light.
The remaining two figures hesitated for a moment, but the Fallen cleared his throat, his voice cool and commanding.
"Titus, Henri, go on," the Fallen instructed. "I'll handle the Admiral myself."
Titus and Henri exchanged a glance before entering the portal. The Fallen pulled two short swords from his cloak, revealing them to be Seriphium blades—divine weapons of immense power. Jonathan's grip tightened around Solus. The Fallen's mana was massive and potent, on par with that of an Admiral. Jonathan wasn't surprised; the trap spell had been deadly, and the Fallen's strength matched that level.
"Who are you?" Jonathan demanded. "I'm not aware of any Pleiadian with an Immortal Realm cultivation who wasn't an Admiral."
"I'm not a Paladin," the Fallen replied coldly. "I gave that up years ago."
"So you were once a Paladin," Jonathan said, his voice tinged with disbelief. The wind howled through the bridge, and Jonathan could sense storm clouds gathering overhead as explosions rang out around the city below. "Do you think this is right? Putting innocent lives in danger?"
"Sacrifices are part of life," the Fallen answered without hesitation. "Fortunately, heroes like you exist, even within a corrupt institution like the Divine Federation."
"Are you saying you counted on me to save the lives you've threatened?" Jonathan shot back, anger rising in his chest.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I knew that as the last remaining Admiral, you would prioritize the lives of citizens over the old regime," the Fallen said with a slight grin. "And now, lives have been saved because of you. You're a hero through and through, Jonathan Haravok
"I'm not interested in being a hero," Jonathan growled, his voice low and sharp. Without hesitation, he surged forward, swinging his blade in a deadly arc. The Fallen was ready. He intercepted the strike with the short sword in his right hand, his movements almost too fast to follow. In a seamless counter, the Fallen launched an upward kick toward Jonathan, his left foot moving with devastating precision. Jonathan raised his arm to block, but the force behind the kick sent a shockwave rippling across the bridge. The Rainbow Bridge shuddered violently, the sky itself seeming to tremble. Thunder cracked, and lightning split the night as the storm clouds above darkened further, responding to the clash of their unleashed power. Golden and crimson lights flashed across the bridge, illuminating the battleground as the two warriors fought with a speed and ferocity no ordinary eye could follow. Jonathan pressed his attack, his strikes sharp and relentless, but the Fallen matched him move for move. Each parry came with a speed that rivaled Jonathan's, a feat that unsettled him. Jonathan Haravok was known as the fastest mortal in the universe, yet this man—this Fallen—could keep up. Something about the Fallen was off. Jonathan could feel it in the flow of his mana, in the way his movements carried an eerie familiarity. The rhythm of their duel stirred something buried deep within Jonathan—a memory, or perhaps a feeling, long forgotten. Not since— Focus on the battle, Jonathan snapped at himself. Now wasn't the time for distractions. He had to end this here and now. The Crown must be recovered, no matter the cost.
Gathering a surge of Od from the atmosphere at the tip of Solus, Jonathan unleashed a concentrated blast of energy. The golden light roared toward the Fallen, a radiant explosion that could have leveled mountains. But the Fallen was ready. A shield of red energy, layered four times over, materialized in an instant, absorbing the attack. The force shattered the shield with a deafening BANG, but the Fallen moved before the dust settled. Jonathan followed up, releasing two compressed heat blades. The first was dodged with ease, but the second grazed the Fallen, slashing his chest. Blood spilled from the wound, dark and vibrant against the night, yet the Fallen didn't falter. The bridge trembled further as the Fallen called upon his Mystical power. Shattered pieces of the Rainbow Bridge lifted into the air, encased in red energy, before rocketing toward Jonathan. With a burst of speed, Jonathan ascended, Solus burning with golden light. Each swing of his sword disintegrated the projectiles into nothing but ash. But the rocks had been a distraction. The real attack came next.
"Flame Creation: Dragon's Breath!" the Fallen chanted, his voice reverberating with power.
A colossal inferno, shaped into a roaring dragon, surged toward Jonathan. The heat was unlike anything he had ever faced, its intensity enough to sear through even his heat-resistant body. The flaming construct slammed into him, sending him hurtling back to the bridge. The impact cratered the surface, a cloud of smoke and debris rising into the air. The Fallen exhaled, his mana reserves visibly drained from the attack. But his reprieve was short-lived. A golden light erupted from the smoke, and Jonathan emerged, his aura blazing brighter than ever. His body, now encased in golden armor forged from pure Odic energy, shone like a second sun. In an instant, he was upon the Fallen, delivering a devastating slash with Solus. The impact shattered the Fallen's twin blades, sending him flying into the wall near the portal. The Fallen crumpled to his knees, coughing up blood. A deep gash marred his chest, blood pouring from the wound like a fountain. Yet even as Jonathan prepared to strike again, the sound of hissing steam filled the air. The gash began to close, healing at a speed that defied belief. The Fallen stood once more, his crimson aura flaring around him like a living thing, mirroring Jonathan's golden light. The sheer force of their combined power triggered earthquakes and seaquakes across the region.
The Fallen raised his hand, summoning a greatsword. The weapon materialized with a menacing aura, its hilt shaped like a bone and its guard a skull, flames pouring from its hollow sockets. Reddish runes etched along the blade glowed with power, a force that rivaled the divine energy of Solus. Their clash threatened the very fabric of existence. If they continued here, Agartha would be destroyed. Jonathan made his decision. In one fluid motion, Jonathan stepped forward, closing the distance in an instant. He grabbed the Fallen by the face and, with a surge of strength, hurled him into the sky. The force sent the Fallen hurtling past Agartha's atmosphere, beyond the planet's defense sphere. Out in the cold vacuum of space, the Fallen stabilized himself, halting his momentum with practiced ease. The absence of oxygen was irrelevant; the Odic energy coursing through his veins sustained him.
"I suppose this is better than down there," the Fallen remarked, his tone calm despite his wounds.
"The time for speaking is over," Jonathan replied coldly.
Solus erupted into a blade of plasmic light, and the golden aura surrounding Jonathan condensed into a radiant suit of armor. He became a blinding beacon, his light cutting through the darkness of space. The Fallen's aura intensified in response, a fiery crimson shroud that burned with the wrath of a dragon. The clash of their energies was cataclysmic. As their auras collided, cracks formed in the very fabric of space and time. Reality itself seemed to buckle under the strain. Then came the explosion—a blinding burst of white light that consumed the void, stretching across the stars and beyond