Verdantia: (Relay System) 338-889-005-004).
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Verdantia was not a planet one would expect to find on any known star map. Situated on the fringes of the Attican Traverse, the lush world was a curious anomaly—untouched by civilization, yet brimming with verdant jungles, sprawling oceans, and dense mountain ranges. The kind of place people went to get lost, whether from the law or from themselves.
Humanity, still licking its wounds from first contact with the Turians at Shanxi, had sent out scouts—pathfinders tasked with charting new systems and evaluating potential colonies. Verdantia was one such candidate. But unlike most wild planets, this one had an odd, ominous signature buried in its rich ecosystems—an encrypted signal. What it was transmitting was anyone's guess, but the system had piqued enough interest to send a small detachment of military and scientific personnel to investigate.
Captain Amara Thorn stood on the loading ramp of her shuttle, her boots planted firmly in the muck of Verdantia's dense jungle floor. She adjusted her helmet, squinting through the polarized visor at the distant mountain range. Sweat beaded her brow beneath her armor. Even the advanced cooling systems of her hardsuit couldn't completely dampen the oppressive humidity of this place. She wiped her brow, muttering under her breath.
"Odd place for a first mission," she said, her voice barely registering over the ambient noise of the jungle—chirping insects, unseen animals rustling through underbrush, and a distant rumble that might have been a waterfall, or thunder. "The hell kind of signal comes from a world like this?"
"Well, Cap, if it was easy, they wouldn't have sent us," Lieutenant Gregor "Griz" Anvar replied, stepping beside her and nudging her with an elbow. He was all rugged grins and bravado, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder. Griz was part of the Alliance Marines—veteran of the First Contact War, the kind of soldier who didn't scare easy.
"You'd think they'd have sent a real recon team if they thought it was serious," Thorn replied, her gaze still scanning the tree line. There was something wrong about this planet, something she couldn't shake. It felt too quiet, too still. And that encrypted signal? She had a feeling it wasn't anything good.
Her team was small—just five. A mix of Alliance Marines and scientists tasked with tracking down the source of the mysterious transmission. What had first seemed like a routine mission was quickly turning into something stranger.
"Think it could be pirates?" Griz asked, breaking the silence. "Some fringe group settin' up shop?"
"Maybe," she mused. "Or worse. Someone might be waiting for us."
Before Griz could respond, the shuttle's comm crackled to life. "Captain Thorn, we're picking up movement. You might want to see this." The voice belonged to Doctor Elara Nezrin, one of the scientists assigned to the team. Smart, but jittery—her nerves didn't exactly instill confidence in the rest of the crew.
Thorn exchanged a glance with Griz before they headed into the shuttle. Inside, the cramped interior was filled with the hum of electronics and holo-displays. Dr. Nezrin was hunched over one of the consoles, her face bathed in blue light as she examined a scan of the terrain.
"Show me," Thorn said, pulling off her helmet and wiping sweat from her forehead.
Nezrin tapped the console, bringing up a map of the surrounding area. A faint red blip appeared on the edge of the scan, near the base of the mountains to the north. It was moving slowly but deliberately, weaving through the jungle like a predator stalking its prey.
"That's not wildlife," Thorn noted, narrowing her eyes. "Too methodical."
Nezrin swallowed nervously. "It gets weirder. We tried to triangulate the signal's origin… and it's coming from the same direction as whatever this is."
Thorn's eyes narrowed. "We're not the first ones here, are we?"
"No, Captain," Nezrin said softly. "And I don't think they're friendly."
The jungle loomed over them as the team made their way toward the mountains. The trek was long, the air thick with moisture, and the oppressive canopy above blotted out much of the sunlight. Thorn's boots squelched in the mud, and the occasional cry of an unseen beast set her nerves on edge.
Griz walked ahead, his rifle at the ready, scanning for signs of movement. Nezrin followed closely behind, flanked by two more marines, Private Joss and Corporal Malik, both green but eager. The jungle seemed alive, teeming with potential threats hidden just beyond sight.
As they reached the edge of the mountain range, Thorn halted, holding up a fist. Griz crouched beside her, peering through the thick brush.
Ahead, the ground sloped upward into a natural valley, flanked by jagged cliffs. And there, sitting at the base of the mountain, was something that didn't belong. A structure—a large, armored bunker, its surface covered in vines and moss. Ancient, by the looks of it, but still very much intact.
"The signal's coming from there," Nezrin whispered, her voice trembling.
"Look," Griz muttered, nodding toward the entrance. Thorn followed his gaze and felt her stomach twist. Emerging from the bunker, moving with a deliberate, hulking stride, was a massive figure—a Krogan.
Thorn knew immediately what she was looking at. Krogan were a rare sight this far out in the galaxy, and most of them preferred to keep to themselves. But this one… this one was different.
The Krogan stood easily over seven feet tall, his armored bulk gleaming under the faint light filtering through the canopy. His skin was dark, marred by old scars, and a single eye gleamed with a predatory focus. He carried a massive shotgun slung across his back, but what caught Thorn's attention was the way he surveyed the area, like a warlord inspecting his domain.
"That's no random merc," Griz whispered, his voice tight with concern.
"No," Thorn agreed. "That's Throgar Nex."
The name hit like a hammer. Throgar Nex, a Krogan warlord whose reputation had spread across the galaxy like wildfire. Rumors painted him as a ruthless tactician, a beast of war who had turned entire planets to ash in his search for power and revenge. If he was here, on Verdantia, it could only mean one thing—this planet was more than it seemed.
But before Thorn could give the order to pull back, Throgar Nex turned his head slightly, his one good eye locking onto their position.
"He knows we're here," Thorn whispered, her heart racing.
In an instant, the Krogan warlord moved, faster than anyone his size had any right to. He raised a massive hand, and in that moment, the jungle fell silent.
"Humans," his deep, guttural voice rumbled, carrying through the air like a distant storm. "I wondered when you'd show up."
Thorn's blood ran cold. The first contact between humanity and another species wasn't supposed to go this way. It wasn't supposed to be with a warlord.
And it certainly wasn't supposed to be with Throgar Nex.
The Krogan warlord stood at the edge of the clearing, his massive form a silhouette against the darkening sky. Thorn's mind raced. This wasn't a negotiation. This was survival.
"Humans," Throgar Nex said again, his voice laced with both curiosity and amusement. "An odd place for you to come snooping. But then again, it's an odd place for a Krogan warlord, too."
His mandibles clicked, and Thorn couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze.
Captain Amara Thorn stepped forward, her heart pounding but her voice steady. She wasn't about to let the Krogan see any sign of weakness. Lieutenant Gregor "Griz" Anvar, always the professional, already had his MR-1 sniper rifle leveled at Throgar Nex, his finger hovering near the trigger. It was more a show of defiance than a real threat; Griz had seen enough in his time to know that a Krogan warlord's armor was more than capable of shrugging off a sniper round or two.
Throgar Nex, however, didn't seem bothered by the rifle aimed at him. His single eye gleamed, filled with amusement as he stared them down. The bulky Krogan towered over the humans, a living symbol of the war-driven resilience his kind was famous for. His scarred face twisted into a broad grin, tusks gleaming as he bared them in a toothy smirk.
"Why are you apes here?" Throgar rumbled, his deep voice rolling like thunder through the jungle. He crossed his thick, armored arms over his chest, his casual stance betraying a total lack of fear. "Did those Turian fuckers make your race piss itself in fear, so now you're runnin' this way for cover, or somethin'?"
Griz tensed beside her, his jaw clenched tight. Amara could feel the heat of the insult in the air, but she wasn't about to let her crew get drawn into an exchange of petty insults. Not with a Krogan warlord who could squash them like insects if he wanted to.
She stepped forward, her gaze steady on Throgar's one good eye. "No," she replied, her voice firm, cool under pressure. "We're not running from anyone, least of all the Turians. We're here because of the signature coming from that bunker." She nodded toward the ancient structure, half-buried in the mountainside behind the warlord. "It's transmitting an encrypted signal, and we're tasked with finding out why."
For a moment, there was silence. Throgar's grin faded, and he uncrossed his arms, his stance shifting just slightly as if he was suddenly far more interested than he let on. His gaze flicked toward the bunker, then back to Amara, narrowing slightly.
"So… you're after the same thing I am," Throgar growled. His voice had lost its mocking tone, replaced by a low rumble of consideration. "Not bad, humans. You picked up on something most of your kind would've missed."
Griz glanced at Thorn, his finger twitching on the trigger. "Cap, this is bad," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
Thorn ignored him. She couldn't afford to show doubt now. Not in front of this Krogan.
"We're not looking for a fight," she said, watching the warlord carefully. "If you're here for the same reason, maybe we can share some intel. Find out what's in there together."
Throgar snorted, a deep, resonant sound that made the ground seem to tremble beneath their feet. "Humans, always so eager to talk." He took a step forward, his size even more imposing up close. "I didn't get this far by sharing my spoils, Captain."
Amara stood her ground, despite the instinct to retreat. She met his gaze, refusing to flinch. "And I didn't come this far to die on some backwater world without finding out what's in that bunker."
Throgar's gaze lingered on her for a long moment. His lips curled into something that might have been approval, or perhaps he just enjoyed the challenge she represented. It was hard to tell with Krogan. He let out another snort, and this time, it carried a note of amusement.
"Alright then," Throgar said, the gravel in his voice softening just a bit. "You've got guts, human. I'll give you that. But don't think for a second that means we're allies. I'm here to claim whatever's inside that bunker for myself. If you get in my way… well, I hope you're faster than you look."
Thorn felt the tension in the air, the thin line between negotiation and violence stretched taut. This could go either way.
"What is inside that bunker, Throgar?" she asked, pressing for just a little more. "You must know more than we do."
The Krogan warlord grinned again, a dangerous glint in his eye. "I know enough," he replied cryptically. "Old tech. Something from before your species even crawled out of its caves. If you're lucky, maybe you'll live long enough to see it." His gaze flicked briefly to Griz's rifle, then back to Amara. "Maybe."
Amara knew she wouldn't get any more out of him. Krogan were many things—warriors, survivors, opportunists—but they weren't known for sharing knowledge unless it suited their plans.
"You've made your point, Warlord," Thorn said, stepping back. "We won't get in your way. But if we find something… we'll want our share."
Throgar let out a deep, rumbling laugh, his massive frame shaking. "Humans and their bargaining." He turned his back to them, striding toward the bunker without another word. "Try not to die before we get to the fun part," he called over his shoulder.
Amara exhaled slowly, tension flooding out of her body. Griz lowered his rifle, shaking his head in disbelief.
"That went well," he muttered sarcastically.
Thorn turned to her team, her face hard and determined. "Get ready. We're going in, but keep your distance from the Krogan. He might let us live, but that doesn't mean we're friends."
Griz smirked, his earlier tension giving way to his usual bravado. "You heard the lady. Stay sharp, and for the love of God, don't piss off the giant lizard."
Amara took one last look at Throgar's retreating figure. The warlord had given them a narrow window, and she intended to use it.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was inside that bunker was far more dangerous than any Krogan warlord.
The narrow corridor inside the bunker stretched out before them, winding deep into the mountain's heart. As the group descended further, the air grew thick and hot, almost stifling. The lights flickered and died the deeper they went, until finally, the humans were forced to activate their helmet flashlights, casting narrow beams of light through the oppressive gloom. The beams swept across the walls, revealing ancient murals etched into the metal, alien figures and sprawling cities frozen in time. Each scene seemed to tell a fragment of a story, though one too strange and foreign for human eyes to fully understand.
Throgar Nex, however, moved with the ease of someone who had done this before. His bulky frame navigated the claustrophobic tunnel with unsettling grace for a creature his size, and he didn't bother with a light. The Krogan warlord's vision in the darkness seemed unimpeded, his head turning slightly as if following some unseen path.
The humans followed cautiously, their steps echoing down the long, hollow corridors. The walls were covered with detailed reliefs of thin, tall beings, their limbs elongated and angular, standing among cities that towered so high they seemed to pierce the heavens. These cities dwarfed anything humanity had ever built—spires that stretched endlessly into the sky, with complex structures that defied conventional logic. The murals were unsettling, yet captivating.
Private Joss muttered under his breath, "What the hell are those things? They look… alien, even for aliens."
Throgar stopped for a moment, his deep voice breaking the silence. "Those," he said, nodding toward the walls, "are the Seraphim."
The name hung in the air, unfamiliar and heavy with mystery. Thorn moved closer, her flashlight illuminating the etched images. The beings were graceful, almost ethereal in their depiction, but the landscapes behind them seemed harsh, starkly contrasting their form.
"Seraphim?" Thorn asked, glancing up at the warlord. "Never heard of them."
"Not many have," Throgar replied, his tone casual but laced with a touch of reverence. "They ruled this part of the galaxy about 50,000 years ago, long before any of you humans were even a thought. Almost nothing is known about them now, though some old records mention their empire stretched across systems. Advanced, powerful… and then they just disappeared."
Nezrin, the scientist, piped up from behind, her voice slightly shaky with curiosity. "Disappeared? What happened to them?"
Throgar grunted and moved forward, walking through a door that had clearly been blown apart long ago. The edges of the metal were twisted and scorched, as if something had violently ripped it open.
"If you ask me, something major happened," Throgar said, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous chamber beyond the door. "In less than a hundred years, their empire was gone. Wiped from the galaxy. All that's left are dead worlds and a few cryptic ruins like this one. Most races don't even know they existed."
Thorn scanned the room as she stepped in after him, her flashlight cutting through the thick, dust-filled air. The chamber was massive, its ceiling towering far above their heads. The floor was littered with debris—broken consoles, shattered glass, and rusted metal that had long since decayed. In the center of the room, a massive, cracked stone tablet lay on the ground, etched with the same alien script that adorned the walls. It was a graveyard of forgotten technology and history.
"What could have done that to them?" Malik asked, the young marine sounding both awed and nervous.
Throgar shrugged, but his tone was dark. "Some nutters say they were attacked by something from void space. The kind of place most civilizations don't like to think about. You humans call it dark space, right? The vast, empty stretches between galaxies." He snorted, his voice dropping to a lower, graver tone. "But everyone knows there's nothing in void space."
Griz frowned, his gaze flicking from the murals to Throgar. "Nothing? You sure about that? I've heard stories…"
Throgar grunted, his one good eye gleaming in the dim light. "Stories are one thing, human. But the Seraphim were wiped out fast. And whatever hit them… it left no trace."
Amara's mind raced. The mention of void space sent a chill down her spine. Void space—dark space—was the great unknown. The endless, empty expanses beyond the reach of even the most advanced FTL drives. It was said to be utterly desolate, a graveyard of stars. But the stories, the whispers that traveled between ships in the dark… those were something else.
"Nothing in void space, huh?" she muttered under her breath, though her voice carried just enough for Throgar to hear.
The Krogan chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that resonated in the chamber. "Believe what you want, Captain. All I know is, the Seraphim aren't around anymore. And if you ask me, whatever took them down wasn't something they saw coming."
Nezrin crouched by the stone tablet, running her fingers lightly over the alien script. "This is incredible," she whispered. "This place… it's not just a ruin. It's a… a tomb. A record of a lost civilization. We could learn so much from this."
Amara felt the weight of the situation settle over her shoulders. What they had stumbled into was more than just an old ruin. It was the remnants of something vast, something ancient, and something dangerous enough to bring an empire to its knees.
"Stay focused, Nezrin," she ordered softly, her voice tight. "We're not here for an archaeological dig. We're here for answers. Whatever took these people down, we need to know if it's still a threat."
Throgar glanced back at her, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "The only thing you need to worry about right now is getting out of here in one piece."
Amara clenched her jaw. She didn't like the implications of his words.
"Keep moving," she ordered her team, her voice steady despite the growing knot of tension in her gut. "We find out what's here, and then we get out."
As they pushed deeper into the bunker, the atmosphere grew heavier, the heat suffocating, and a strange static charge began to build in the air. Thorn couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that something in this place—something ancient—was still alive.
The descent seemed endless, the narrow spiral staircase plunging deeper and deeper into the heart of the ancient bunker. The temperature continued to rise, beads of sweat forming under their helmets as the air grew hotter and more oppressive. Their helmet lights cut through the gloom, illuminating scenes etched into the stone walls—nightmares from a long-forgotten era.
Cities ablaze, their towers crumbling into fire and ash. Ships as tall as skyscrapers, blotting out the sky as they rained destruction below. And most disturbing of all were the figures: grotesque, twisted amalgamations of synthetic and organic life, fused together into horrific creatures. Their monstrous forms loomed over the chaos, their eyes cold and unfeeling, void of any emotion save a hunger for destruction. These beings were no longer merely alive; they had been transformed, corrupted into something alien and terrifying.
Amara's heart pounded in her chest as they continued their march downwards. Each step felt like a descent into hell, with the images on the walls serving as a grim reminder of whatever fate had befallen the Seraphim. The enormity of the destruction captured in the murals hinted at a cataclysm of unimaginable scale. The further they descended, the more Amara couldn't shake the growing sense of dread.
At the bottom of the staircase, the air was thick with dust and heat, the oppressive silence broken only by the sound of their breathing and the crunch of boots on ancient stone. Before them stood a massive door, its surface marred by age and the ravages of time. The intricate carvings across its surface suggested this was a gateway, perhaps to something the Seraphim had been desperate to protect—or hide.
Throgar Nex strode forward, his bulky form making the others feel small in comparison. The Krogan warlord looked almost eager as he reached into his pack and pulled out a bundle of high-grade explosives. With practiced efficiency, he set the charges around the door, securing them in place with an air of grim determination. He glanced back at the humans, his single eye gleaming with something akin to anticipation.
"Stand back," he growled.
Amara signaled for her team to retreat, moving behind a column as Throgar ignited the explosives. The blast that followed was deafening, a violent explosion that shook the entire structure, sending plumes of dust and smoke billowing into the air. The floor beneath them rumbled ominously, and for a terrifying moment, it felt as though the bunker itself might collapse on top of them.
But as the smoke cleared, the door lay in ruins, blown apart by the force of the explosion. Beyond the wreckage was a vast, cavernous room that stretched out into the darkness. Throgar stepped forward, his boots crunching over the debris, his deep voice echoing in the stillness.
"Human," Throgar called out, his tone strangely reverent, "I do believe you've found what you were after."
Amara emerged from behind the column, her helmet light cutting through the swirling dust. The sight that greeted her left her speechless.
The room was immense, almost impossibly so, stretching out into the darkness beyond the reach of their lights. And within it, lined up in neat, precise rows, were thousands of pods. Each one was encased in a translucent material, glowing faintly with a cold, pale light. The pods hummed softly, a steady, rhythmic sound like the beating of a heart. Inside each pod, something—someone—was frozen in stasis, suspended between life and death.
Amara stepped forward, her mind struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of what lay before her. Thousands of pods, perfectly preserved for millennia, untouched by time.
"An ark," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the vastness of the chamber.
Behind her, Elara Nezrin stumbled forward, her eyes wide in disbelief. The scientist was visibly shaken, her hand trembling as she reached out toward the nearest pod. She activated her omnitool, scanning the contents of the pod with frantic excitement.
"My god," Nezrin breathed, almost at a loss for words. "We've found an ark. This is… this is the biggest discovery since the Charon Mass Relay."
The room seemed to echo with the magnitude of her words. An ark, a repository of Seraphim life, preserved across the eons. The beings inside the pods looked like the figures depicted on the walls above: tall, elegant, with elongated limbs and thin, angular features. But some of them looked different, their forms more grotesque and warped, as though they had been caught in the process of becoming something else—something more monstrous.
Amara felt the weight of the discovery settle over her like a leaden cloak. This wasn't just a relic of the past. This was a living, breathing piece of history. The implications were staggering.
Nezrin continued scanning the pods, her voice filled with awe. "This technology… it's beyond anything we've ever seen. It's almost incomprehensible. The Seraphim weren't just trying to preserve their people—they were experimenting, trying to… combine organic life with synthetic components. But why?"
Throgar stood near the center of the room, arms crossed, surveying the scene with a satisfied grunt. "Looks like you humans just found your golden ticket. You get this out to the exonet, and your name'll be remembered across the galaxy."
Nezrin nodded, her face flushed with the excitement of discovery. This was her legacy, her moment of immortality.
But Amara couldn't shake the cold feeling of unease that crept down her spine. The murals they'd seen on the way down, the twisted creatures that had once been Seraphim… They weren't just history. They were a warning.
"What if they weren't experimenting for the sake of discovery?" Amara said quietly, turning to Nezrin. "What if they were desperate? What if this ark isn't just about preserving their race?"
Nezrin looked up, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
Amara gestured to the pods. "This doesn't feel like a triumph. This feels like a last-ditch effort. Like they were running out of time."
Throgar chuckled darkly. "Smart human. I was thinking the same thing. The Seraphim didn't leave this place intact by accident."
A deep, resonant hum suddenly echoed through the chamber, vibrating the very air around them. It grew louder, more insistent, until it was almost deafening. One of the pods began to glow brighter, pulsing with light.
"Something's happening," Griz shouted, taking a defensive stance, his rifle at the ready.
Nezrin's eyes widened as she frantically scanned the pod. "The systems are activating! It's—"
A hiss filled the air as the pod's seal broke, releasing a cloud of gas. The pale, skeletal figure inside began to stir.
The hum of the ancient machinery reverberated throughout the massive chamber as the stasis pod slowly hissed open, releasing a thick cloud of mist that swirled around the glowing blue figure inside. The alien within was tall and gaunt, its skin a pale shade of cerulean, glowing faintly with an otherworldly luminescence. Its eyes—black, bottomless pools—reflected the faint light of the room, and as the creature slowly rose from the pod, there was an unnatural grace to its movements, almost as if it were floating above the ground.
The humans stood frozen, a mix of awe and fear in their eyes. For all their advanced technology, nothing in their history had prepared them for a moment like this—a face-to-face encounter with a species as old as the stars, a species that had ruled vast stretches of the galaxy millennia before humanity had even begun to crawl out of its cradle.
But while the humans hesitated, Throgar Nex was already moving. The Krogan warlord gripped his shotgun tight, stepping forward with the deliberate menace of a predator sizing up its prey. His lone eye glinted in the dim light, the scarred remnants of his face twitching with anticipation. He had no plans of letting the humans walk out of here with whatever was in that pod. His loyalty to them only went so far. This was his territory, and if there was something of power to be claimed, he would be the one to claim it.
The air crackled with tension as the alien stepped out of the pod, the mist clinging to its elongated frame like a shroud. Its head tilted ever so slightly as it observed its surroundings, its gaze finally settling on Throgar. For a long moment, neither moved, the air between them thick with unspoken intent.
Then, in a voice that sounded like the slow whisper of a forgotten breeze, the alien spoke.
"A Krogan warrior," it said, its tone curious, as if it were observing some strange phenomenon. The words hung in the air, as though the creature were testing them, trying to understand something that didn't quite fit. "How… odd."
The statement caught everyone off guard, even Throgar. His scarred brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, then quickly twisted into a snarl. He stepped forward, leveling his shotgun at the creature's chest. "You know something about us?" he growled, his deep voice echoing ominously in the massive chamber.
The alien's expression remained calm, though its head turned ever so slightly, as if studying him with a detached curiosity. It spoke again, its voice like the low hum of machinery forgotten for eons. "The Krogan were never meant for such a role. It is strange to see them like this… a warrior race. You were once something else."
Throgar's grip on the shotgun tightened, his knuckles whitening under the force. He wasn't the type to be talked down to, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let some ancient relic of a species tell him what his kind were "meant" to be.
"What do you know about the Krogan?" he snapped, his finger twitching near the trigger. "We've been warriors since we crawled out of the muck."
But before the tension could escalate, Captain Amara Thorn stepped forward, her voice cutting through the thick atmosphere like a blade. "Hold on, Throgar. Let's not do anything rash." She turned her gaze to the alien, cautious but curious. "Who are you?"
The alien shifted its focus from Throgar to Amara, and for a moment, it seemed to study her with the same detached interest. Then, with an almost imperceptible bow of its head, it answered.
"I am Nyrathiel Astraeus," it said, the name rolling off its tongue with a strange, melodic cadence. "I was a sentinel of the Seraphim Empire… long before your people knew the stars."
Nyrathiel's words echoed in the cavernous chamber, the weight of its history pressing down on the humans. Elara Nezrin stepped closer, her omnitool flickering as it continued to record everything. She could hardly contain her excitement. "A Seraphim," she whispered, her voice trembling with awe. "You're real. You're… alive."
"Alive?" Nyrathiel's lips curled into what might have been a smile, though it was a cold, humorless expression. "In a manner of speaking. I have been in stasis for many millennia. I am perhaps the last of my kind to awaken." Its black eyes drifted over the rows of pods behind them, the faint glow of the sleeping figures casting long shadows across the room. "This ark was meant to preserve us… but we were too late."
"Too late for what?" Amara pressed, her tone becoming more urgent.
Nyrathiel turned its gaze back to her, its eyes dark and fathomless. "We were consumed by something far greater than ourselves. We fought, we tried to resist… but in the end, we could not stop it."
There was a pause, a deep silence that hung like a shroud over the team. The humans exchanged uneasy glances. Nezrin's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of history they had uncovered. "The murals… the twisted beings we saw on the way down. What were they?"
Nyrathiel's expression darkened, its voice growing cold and distant. "Those were once Seraphim. They were… corrupted. Transformed by a force from beyond. We called it the Abyssal Hunger. A force that devoured both flesh and machine, reshaping us into monstrosities—half-organic, half-synthetic abominations. Those you saw on the walls were once our people, twisted into something else. Something unrecognizable."
The air grew colder with each word, the weight of the Seraphim's tragedy settling over the room like a suffocating fog. Amara felt a chill crawl down her spine. The Abyssal Hunger… a force from beyond. Dark space. Void space. The Seraphim had fallen to something unimaginable.
"Why are you still alive?" Thorn asked, her voice cutting through the tension.
Nyrathiel's gaze settled on her, as if considering how to answer. "I was chosen to be one of the sentinels of our ark. We hoped that, by preserving a fraction of our species, we might survive long enough to find a solution. We placed ourselves in stasis, waiting for the day when we might rise again. But it seems… that day has long passed."
Throgar stepped forward, his shotgun still trained on the Seraphim. "So you're saying that whatever wiped out your people is still out there? Still waiting in the dark?"
Nyrathiel's cold eyes locked onto Throgar's. "It never left. The Hunger waits, as it always has. And now, it is awake once more."
Amara's heart sank as the implications hit her like a freight train. If this force—the Abyssal Hunger—was still out there, it was a threat not just to the Seraphim, but to every species in the galaxy. This was far more than an archaeological discovery. This was a harbinger of something far worse.
"We need to leave," Amara said, her voice tight with urgency. "We need to get this information out to the Council."
But before anyone could move, the room seemed to shudder, a low, distant rumble shaking the very foundations of the bunker. Nyrathiel's gaze shifted to the walls, its expression unreadable.
"It seems," the alien said softly, "that we are no longer alone."
Amara's heart lurched as she spun toward the opening, her instincts kicking in before her mind fully processed what was happening. The faint rumble that had echoed through the chamber moments ago now made sense—there were intruders. And they weren't friendly.
Twelve Batarians, led by a particularly brutish figure with sickly green skin and a sneer that oozed malice, strode confidently into the massive room. Their four eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger, scanning the ancient chamber as if they had already claimed it as their own. The leader's eyes locked onto Amara and her team, his sneer widening into a grin that sent a shiver of disgust down her spine.
"So this is why you apes are here," the Batarian leader growled, his voice thick with condescension. He took a step forward, his posture dripping with arrogance, as his eyes roamed over the humans—particularly Amara and Elara Nezrin. "This place belongs to us now. Drop your weapons, and we may allow you females to live as our slaves."
The venomous tone in his voice was unmistakable, the leering suggestion in his words hanging in the air like a stench. Amara's grip on her assault rifle tightened, her knuckles turning white as her blood boiled. She could feel Griz shifting beside her, the sniper's fingers twitching near the trigger of his MR-1 rifle, the disgust in his eyes mirroring her own. Even Nezrin, normally calm and analytical, bristled at the Batarian's words.
But it was Throgar who moved first.
With a low growl rumbling deep in his throat, the Krogan warlord took a step forward, positioning himself between the humans and the Batarians. His shotgun was still in his massive hands, the barrel pointed down, but there was no mistaking the deadly intent in his stance. His single eye locked onto the Batarian leader, and his lips curled into a cruel, toothy grin.
"You're going to regret that," Throgar said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. There was a dark gleam of amusement in his eye, as if the thought of tearing through a dozen Batarians was little more than an afternoon's entertainment.
The Batarian leader laughed, a harsh, barking sound that echoed off the stone walls of the ancient bunker. "You think I'm afraid of a Krogan mercenary?" he sneered. "We've killed plenty of your kind before."
Throgar's grin widened, his grip tightening on his shotgun. "Then you've never fought me."
The tension in the room snapped taut, like a wire pulled to the breaking point. Amara's mind raced, calculating the odds. Twelve Batarians, well-armed and clearly not here for negotiations. They had no chance of talking their way out of this. Her team was outnumbered, but not outgunned—and they had Throgar. But more than anything, they had something far more valuable: the knowledge they had just uncovered. The Seraphim, the Abyssal Hunger, the ark… it was too important to fall into the hands of slavers and scavengers.
Amara raised her hand in a quick signal, a gesture her team knew well. Prepare for a fight.
Gregor "Griz" Anvar, standing beside her, gave a curt nod, his rifle already leveled toward the lead Batarian's head. There was no hesitation in his movements, his sniper instincts kicking in as he took aim.
Elara Nezrin moved behind cover, her fingers dancing across her omnitool, preparing whatever defensive measures she could pull together in the chaos. If they were going to make it out of here, they'd need more than just brute force—they'd need to outthink their enemies.
"You're making a mistake," Amara said, her voice calm but firm, trying to buy a few precious seconds. "This place is far more dangerous than you realize. You don't know what you're dealing with."
The Batarian leader snorted in contempt. "I don't need your warnings, human. We'll take what we want. And I'll make sure you scream while we do it."
Amara's eyes narrowed, and the time for words was over. She dropped to one knee, leveling her assault rifle at the nearest Batarian as her team sprang into action.
The first shot rang out, a crack from Griz's sniper rifle that echoed across the chamber like thunder. The Batarian leader's head snapped back, his body crumpling to the floor before he even realized what had happened. A spray of dark blood splattered across the ancient stone floor, and for a split second, the remaining Batarians were frozen in shock.
That moment was all Throgar needed.
With a guttural roar, the Krogan warlord surged forward, his shotgun roaring as he closed the distance between himself and the nearest Batarian. The blast tore through the alien's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground in a heap of shredded armor and broken flesh. Throgar didn't slow down, moving with the relentless aggression of a living battering ram. His massive form was a blur of motion as he waded into the fray, his shotgun barking with each step, every shot reducing another Batarian to a bloody heap on the ground.
The Batarians scrambled, firing wildly at the Krogan, but their bullets barely slowed him. His heavy armor absorbed the worst of the impacts, and the sheer force of his charge was enough to send them into disarray.
Amara took advantage of the chaos, her team moving with practiced precision. She fired controlled bursts, each shot finding its mark. Griz took up position behind a broken column, picking off enemies with deadly accuracy, his sniper rifle silencing any Batarian foolish enough to poke their head out of cover. Elara's omnitool flared to life, sending out a pulse of energy that disabled the shields of two nearby enemies, leaving them vulnerable to Amara's gunfire.
Despite their numbers, the Batarians were no match for the coordinated assault. Within moments, half their group lay dead or dying, their bodies scattered across the stone floor like discarded puppets. But the remaining six were still dangerous, and they were quickly regrouping, retreating to the entrance where they could funnel the humans into a deadly choke point.
As the Batarians began to fall back, Nyrathiel Astraeus finally spoke. The Seraphim had stood still throughout the battle, its black eyes watching the carnage with a detached, almost clinical interest. But now, as the remaining Batarians gathered near the entrance, it raised a slender hand, the air around it shimmering with power.
"They seek to claim what is not theirs," Nyrathiel said, its voice calm but edged with a strange finality. "They will not leave."
Amara felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as a pulse of energy rippled through the air. The Seraphim's hand glowed brighter, and a shockwave exploded from its body, hitting the remaining Batarians like a tidal wave. Their bodies convulsed as the energy coursed through them, their weapons falling from their hands as they crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The chamber fell silent once more.
Amara exhaled slowly, lowering her rifle. She exchanged a glance with her team, then turned to Nyrathiel. "What… what did you just do?"
Nyrathiel lowered its hand, its black eyes meeting hers. "They were unworthy."
Throgar chuckled darkly, wiping the blood from his shotgun with a satisfied grunt. "Remind me not to piss that thing off."
Amara's thoughts raced as she surveyed the room. They had won—for now. But the true threat wasn't the Batarians. The true threat was the reason this place had been hidden, and the force that had wiped out the Seraphim.
The Abyssal Hunger was still out there. And they had just awoken something it would come looking for.
"Let's get moving," she said, her voice tight with urgency. "We're not staying to find out what else is down here."
As Amara prepared to order her team to leave, Nyrathiel spoke up one last time. "This may prove useful to you. My people had scant opportunity to study the threat that came for them. Yet, I sense time remains for you. May the gods see it so," he intoned cryptically. In an instant, he collapsed, his form lifeless.
Elara Nezrin stepped forward, her omnitool immediately engaging in a scan of Nyrathiel's body. After a few tense moments, she shook her head solemnly. "He's dead," she said softly, her voice a mix of awe and sorrow. "Just like that."
Amara's gaze lingered on the still form of Nyrathiel. The ancient Seraphim, a relic from a time long before their own, had perished abruptly, leaving behind ominous words about an impending danger. The reference to "that which came for them" twisted her stomach into knots. Whatever force had annihilated the Seraphim was still out there, and they had just stirred something that could lead it directly to them.
Throgar emitted a low, frustrated growl as he nudged Nyrathiel's motionless body with his boot. "Fragile thing for an ancient alien," he muttered, his voice tinged with annoyance. "What was the point of all that, then?"
Amara wasn't sure of the answer. Nyrathiel's final words gnawed at her, hinting at a sense of urgency and a dwindling time. The Seraphim had been powerless to prevent the catastrophe that befell them, but their final message might offer a clue or a warning. The mention of time—time that might still be available to humanity, unlike the Seraphim—was a cryptic puzzle. But what did it mean?
Gregor "Griz" Anvar approached cautiously, his rifle at the ready. His gaze shifted to the rows of dormant pods lining the walls. "Captain," he said, nodding towards one of the other chambers. "If these pods contain more like him, we could be facing a serious problem."
Amara turned to the pods, their sheer number overwhelming. Thousands of dormant beings, each potentially as fragile or as weakened by time as Nyrathiel. The implications were immense. Could humanity study these pods to glean insights into the Seraphim's fate? Or would their attempts to uncover the past unleash even greater dangers?
Shaking off the swirling doubts, Amara focused on the immediate task. "We need to gather as much data as possible," she said decisively. "Elara, extract any useful information from the control systems. We need everything we can get—details about the Seraphim, their technology, and whatever it was they were fighting."
Elara nodded, her fingers flying over her omnitool as she interfaced with the alien systems. The ancient technology responded sluggishly, its mechanisms deteriorated after millennia of inactivity, but she persisted. "It'll take some time," she said. "But I'll get what I can."
Griz positioned himself at the entrance, eyes scanning for any further threats. The remaining Batarians had either fled or been dispatched, but there was no telling if other parties might come seeking the secrets within this ancient place. Throgar stood near Nyrathiel's body, his expression unreadable as he scrutinized the room filled with dormant pods.
"You think whatever they were fighting is still out there?" Throgar asked gruffly, his gaze shifting to Amara. "This Abyssal Hunger?"
Amara clenched her jaw, her resolve hardening. "If it was capable of eradicating the Seraphim, it's not something we can ignore. Whatever it is, we need to be prepared."
At that moment, Elara's omnitool emitted a series of urgent beeps. She looked up, her face pale as she absorbed the data. "Captain… I've found something. It's an automated distress signal. It's broadcasting from deep space, coordinates I've never seen before. The Seraphim sent it out just before they went dark. They were calling for help."
Amara's blood chilled. "Calling for help from what?"
Elara's fingers moved rapidly over her omnitool, decoding the distress signal. Her face drained of color as she absorbed the gravity of the message.
"We need to get this back to Earth," Amara said firmly. "And Throgar should come with us. He might know more, given that he was here before we even knew this place existed."
With a curt nod, Amara gave the order for her team to leave. The urgency in her voice was clear—time was of the essence, and she had no intention of lingering on this sweltering, humid world a moment longer than necessary. The Seraphim's cryptic warning and the presence of the Batarians had made it clear that their mission was far from over, but the immediate priority was to get back to the surface and establish communication with their ship.
"Once we're back on the surface, try to contact the ship," Amara instructed, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "If there's one group of Batarians, there could be more. We need to be prepared for any eventuality."
Her team responded with nods of agreement, their expressions grim but resolute. The oppressive heat and humidity of the bunker were a stark contrast to the cool air they had experienced moments ago. As they ascended the ancient stone staircase, their flashlights cut through the darkness, casting eerie shadows on the walls adorned with faded murals of long-forgotten cities and battles.
Elara Nezrin, still working diligently on her omnitool, kept a wary eye on their surroundings. The data she was extracting from the ancient systems was crucial, but the threat of additional Batarian forces loomed large in her mind. She needed to ensure they had a clear path to safety and that any potential threats were dealt with promptly.
Griz Anvar kept his rifle at the ready, his gaze scanning the dimly lit staircase for any signs of movement. The sniper was on high alert, his training making him particularly sensitive to the sounds and sights of potential danger. His instinct told him that the threat wasn't over, and he remained vigilant as they climbed.
Throgar, meanwhile, followed behind the team, his massive form an imposing silhouette against the flickering light of their flashlights. Despite the tension, he seemed somewhat detached, his thoughts clearly on the implications of what they had discovered. Amara had given him the choice to join them or not, and he had chosen to follow, his interest in the Seraphim and their technology evidently outweighing his initial intention to claim the bunker for himself.
As they neared the surface, the air grew cooler, a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the lower levels. Amara led the way, her mind already racing with plans for their next steps. The distress signal they had found was a crucial piece of the puzzle, and she knew they needed to act quickly to decipher its full meaning and implications.
The stone staircase finally gave way to the exterior, and Amara took a deep breath of fresh air, her senses temporarily overwhelmed by the transition from the underground bunker to the lush, verdant surface of Verdantia. She quickly pulled out her comms device, attempting to establish contact with their ship. The dense foliage and towering trees formed a thick canopy above them, casting deep shadows across the landscape.
"Captain Thorn, this is the Dauntless," came the crackling voice of the ship's pilot through the comms. "We're picking up a faint signal from your location. What's your status?"
"We've encountered Batarians," Amara reported tersely. "We need to secure our position and prepare for a potential engagement. Have the crew be on high alert and ready for extraction. We'll need to be prepared for anything."
"Acknowledged. We'll be on standby for further instructions. We're scanning for any additional signals or threats in the area," the pilot replied. "Stay safe out there."
Amara pocketed her comms device and turned to her team, her expression serious. "We need to keep moving. Stay alert and be prepared for any incoming threats. We've seen what the Batarians are capable of, and there's no telling if more are on the way."
As they made their way through the dense jungle, the team's senses were heightened, every rustle of leaves and snap of twigs setting their nerves on edge. The lush environment was beautiful but deceptive, hiding potential dangers among its vibrant flora.
Throgar walked alongside them, his massive form a reassuring presence in the chaotic jungle. Though he had initially seemed more interested in the artifacts and technology, it was clear that his experience and knowledge of dangerous situations were an asset. The Krogan's eyes scanned the surroundings with a practiced gaze, his attention shifting between the dense foliage and the path ahead.
Elara's omnitool continued to hum with activity as she worked to extract data and ensure their communications were secure. She glanced over at Amara, her face set in concentration. "Captain, I'm getting a more detailed readout on the distress signal. It's coming from an uncharted region of space, and it's definitely linked to the Seraphim. This could be crucial."
"Good," Amara said, her voice steady. "We need every piece of information we can get. Let's focus on getting back to the ship and analyzing this data. The sooner we understand what the Seraphim were dealing with, the better."
As they pushed through the jungle, the sounds of the alien world seemed to close in around them. The heat and humidity were oppressive, but they pressed on, driven by the urgency of their mission and the looming threat of whatever had wiped out the Seraphim.
The jungle eventually gave way to a clearing where the Dauntless awaited, its sleek hull a stark contrast to the surrounding wilderness. The ship's landing lights illuminated the area, offering a beacon of safety amid the encroaching darkness.
With a sigh of relief, Amara led her team onto the ship, their exhaustion palpable but their resolve unshaken. The data they had gathered and the distress signal they had uncovered were just the beginning. The true challenge lay ahead as they prepared to confront the mysterious threat that had once decimated an ancient civilization—and was now poised to potentially threaten theirs.
"Alright, let's get to work," Amara said, her tone resolute as she glanced around at her team. "We've got a lot of data to analyze and a warning to deliver. This is only the beginning."
Once aboard the Dauntless, the atmosphere shifted from tense to a mix of relief and apprehension as the ship's crew swiftly began preparing for departure. Darius Davenport, the ship's seasoned pilot, maneuvered his vessel with practiced ease. His sharp blue eyes darted between the various computer terminals, scanning for any signs of unwanted ships or anomalies.
With a hum of the ship's engines and a soft vibration as the Dauntless began its ascent, Darius turned his attention to Captain Amara Thorn. His face, usually a mask of concentration, now bore a hint of curiosity and concern. "The relay is ten minutes out, Captain," he said, his voice steady but edged with impatience. "So, how about filling us in on what the hell just happened? And, by the way, who the hell is this oversized lizard?"
Amara met Darius's gaze, her expression a blend of weariness and resolve. "I'll explain everything in detail, but first, let's get clear of any immediate threats," she replied. She glanced around at her team, ensuring everyone was secure and ready for the debriefing.
Throgar Nex, the imposing Krogan warlord, stood in the corner of the ship's cargo bay, his massive frame a stark contrast to the sleek, modern interior of the Dauntless. His presence was an anomaly in the familiar confines of the starship, adding an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.
"Alright, everyone," Amara began, her voice carrying a commanding presence despite her exhaustion. "Here's the situation: We discovered an ancient Seraphim facility on Verdantia. The Seraphim were a highly advanced species that ruled this part of the galaxy around 50,000 years ago. Their downfall remains a mystery, but what we found indicates that they were wiped out by something catastrophic."
She paused, allowing the gravity of her words to sink in. The crew of the Dauntless listened intently, their faces reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"We encountered one of the Seraphim, a being named Nyrathiel Astraeus. He provided us with a cryptic warning about a threat that had come for his people—a threat that might still be out there. Before he could elaborate, he died suddenly. His final words hinted at a danger that we might be facing ourselves."
Darius's brow furrowed, clearly intrigued but also skeptical. "And this 'oversized lizard'—I mean Throgar Nex—what's his role in all this?"
Amara turned to Throgar, who stood with his arms crossed, his one eye observing the crew with a mix of disdain and curiosity. "Throgar Nex is a Krogan warlord. He was already on Verdantia, interested in the same Seraphim technology we were. We initially had a tense standoff, but given the gravity of what we found, I decided it was in our best interest to have him accompany us. He might have insights into the Seraphim and their technology that could be valuable."
Throgar snorted at the mention of his title but remained silent. His presence, while imposing, was now overshadowed by the urgency of the situation.
Darius turned back to the controls, his attention shifting momentarily to the readouts. "So, we're heading back to Earth with this information. What's the plan once we get there?"
"First," Amara said firmly, "we need to analyze the data we collected from the Seraphim facility. We need to understand what wiped them out and determine if it poses a threat to us. The distress signal we found is crucial; it might lead us to more information about this 'Abyssal Hunger'—whatever it is."
Elara Nezrin, who had been busy interfacing with the ship's systems to extract and secure the data, stepped forward. "I've started preliminary analysis on the data, but it'll take time to fully understand it. The distress signal is an automated broadcast, and we need to decode its full message to uncover the details."
Amara nodded, acknowledging the importance of their task. "In the meantime, keep an eye on any potential threats. We don't know if our discovery has attracted unwanted attention. Throgar, you're here as a potential ally, but keep in mind that our priority is the safety of our crew and the mission."
Throgar's eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave a curt nod, acknowledging the order. "Understood. I'll cooperate—provided my interests are considered."
As the Dauntless continued its ascent toward the relay, the crew focused on their respective tasks. The weight of their discovery hung heavily in the air, the knowledge that they had uncovered something both monumental and potentially perilous fueling their determination.
Amara glanced out the viewport, watching as Verdantia shrank below them, a vivid green world now tinged with the sense of ominous secrets and potential dangers. The journey ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but the crew of the Dauntless was resolute. Their mission was far from over, and the answers they sought would shape the course of their future.