The silence in the Ghost’s hold was different this time. It was not the tense quiet of impending violence, nor the sterile silence of the sovereign’s rule. It was the profound, weary stillness that follows a storm. On the screens, the Sirius Sector was a scattering of lights, each representing a ship that had chosen a different path. Jax Korvus was a ghost, his power vanished not in a blaze of glory, but in a whisper of irrelevance.Myra watched Roewi. He stood at the viewport, his shoulders slumped with a fatigue that was more spiritual than physical. The surgical precision he had wielded had cost him something. It was one thing to shatter a prison; it was another to carefully dismantle a man’s life’s work, to render him a nullity in front of his followers.“You did the right thing,” she said, her voice soft in the quiet.“I did a necessary thing,” he corrected, without turning. “The ‘right’ is still being calculated.” He managed a faint, weary smile. “And it has a lot of variables.”

The Ghost drifted in the silent expanse between the Sirius and Cygnus sectors, a ghost in truth now, its signature muted, its course a random walk to avoid the predators drawn to the Crown's digital carnage. The map of the Sanctuary Network was a field of scars, with only a handful of isolated nodes still flickering, kept alive by Roewi’s constant, low-level attention. He was a man desperately trying to keep a few candles lit in a hurricane. [Passive scan of the Sirius Sector indicates significant residual instability. The power vacuum left by the Korvus variable has been filled by multiple minor factions. One is emerging as dominant.] Vextor’s report was accompanied by intercepted comms traffic, garbled shouts, panicked screams, and the guttural boasts of a new voice. “call myself Grax! Jax Korvus was a fool, playing with toys he didn't understand. I don't want your allegiance. I want your ships, your fuel, your food. You will hand them over, or I will peel your stations apart pie

The silence of the Ghost’s meditation chamber was a profound, manufactured thing, a bubble of perfect stability Roewi had carved for himself within the asteroid. Here, he could listen to the symphony of his own existence, the deep, resonant bass of the Orb of Foundation, the shimmering, unpredictable melody of the Orb of Transmutation, and the harmonizing, contextual chord of the Orb of Unity, all conducted by the quiet, logical presence of Vextor. It was a balance he had fought for, a hard-won peace within the storm of his own being.He was preparing for the confrontation with Grax, not by marshaling power, but by reinforcing his connection to the humanity he would need to wield it wisely. He focused on a simple memory: the feeling of Myra’s hand on his arm in the academy tunnels, a gesture of solidarity when he had nothing. He held onto the taste of the nutrient bar they’d shared. He remembered the heat of shame on his face during a synchronization failure. These were not weaknesses

The air in Haven’s central cavern, which Roewi had begun to call the Heart, was no longer just clean and cool; it was thick with the scent of ozone, soldering irons, and simmering tension. The awe of the foundation had worn off, replaced by the gritty reality of survival. Crates of salvaged tech were stacked against the organically smooth walls, and the constant hum of generators, a temporary, noisy necessity, competed with the asteroid’s own deep, silent hum.Myra stood before a large, crystalline slate that had grown from one wall, its surface shimmering with data. Arrayed before her was the entirety of Haven’s population, a few dozen souls including the Lyceum scholars, Kael’s marauders (now reluctantly dubbed ‘Haven’s Shield’), and the Veridian farmers. Their faces were a mosaic of hope, skepticism, and raw hunger.“The System Coins are dead,” Myra announced, her voice cutting through the murmur. “They were a leash, and we chewed through it. But that leaves us with nothing to trad

The first warning was not a blip on a scanner or a shouted alert. It was a tremor. A deep, groaning vibration that ran through the living stone of Haven, a shudder of pain from the asteroid itself. In the Heart, the crystalline tree’s light flickered, its harmonious hum shifting to a distressed whine.Roewi’s eyes snapped open from a light doze. He wasn't in his meditation chamber, but had fallen asleep leaning against the tree, lulled by its steady rhythm. The tremor was a violation. It was the first time since its creation that Haven had felt anything but serene stability.[External impact. Kinetic. Non-explosive. Origin: Coordinated mass-driver fire from multiple vectors. The asteroid’s structural integrity remains at 98%. However, the attack is a probing action.] Vextor’s analysis was swift, clinical, but underscored with a new note, the acknowledgment of a direct threat to their foundation.Myra’s voice crackled over the internal comms, sharp with adrenaline but controlled. “All