And so the journey passed, a blend of silent vigilance and lighthearted, distant chatter. Two weeks of drifting through the unnatural silence of the wormhole. Then, it ended.
The fleet shuddered back into real space, the star-dusted void of the galactic rim stretching before them. And there, hanging in the black like a cursed tombstone, was the Void Mothership.
But Rex felt it before he truly saw it. A sensation that was not sight or sound but a vibration that resonated deep within his very soul. It was a cold, ancient malevolence that traced an icy finger down his spine, a whisper of something profoundly wrong.
Yet, intertwined with that chill was a sudden, volcanic surge of rage. It boiled his blood, like a primal and inexplicable fury that clenched his jaw and tightened his fists.
