Blood Moons and Burning Skies
The sky bled red. Not the soft hues of sunset, but a deep, pulsing crimson, as if the heavens themselves had been wounded. Commander Kieran Vasquez stood at the edge of the shattered bridge, his breathing sharp against the oxygen mask strapped to his face. Below, the city burned—firestorms consuming steel and stone, the air thick with the acrid stench of destruction.
"We lost Sector Seven." A voice crackled in his earpiece—Lieutenant Alaya, her usually steady tone laced with urgency. "The Sentinels breached our last perimeter."
Kieran cursed under his breath. "Fall back to the core tunnels. Protect the Vault at all costs. I'm heading to the tower."
"Commander, no! You won't make—"
The signal cut out. The sky flickered—an unnatural distortion rippling across it, like a glitch in reality itself. A second later, the massive structure at the city's heart, the Obelisk Tower, groaned. The monolithic spire had stood for centuries, a beacon of power, but now it fractured like glass, its dark surface splitting, revealing a luminous energy pulsing from within.
Kieran activated his exo-boots, propelling himself across the ruined skyline. The moment his feet landed on the crumbling rooftop of an old archive, a force slammed into him.
He hit the ground hard, rolling into a defensive stance, blaster drawn.
A figure stood before him, silhouetted against the burning sky. Armor like molten obsidian, eyes gleaming with otherworldly light.
The voice that followed was both familiar and terrifying.
"You should've killed me when you had the chance, brother."
Kieran's blood ran cold.
"You're supposed to be dead."
The figure smirked, lifting a hand. Reality warped around them, the air crackling with raw energy.
"Not anymore."
With a single motion, the world around Kieran shattered into darkness.