The quiet hum of the Aryavarta's engines was the only sound in the dimly lit bridge. Outside the viewport, the nebula swirled in violet and crimson, its beauty hiding something far less welcoming. Ashoka stood at the helm, his gaze fixed on the anomaly ahead — the "Veil of Mists," a region so infamous that even pirate captains whispered about it in cautionary tales.
"This is where the signal came from?" Commander Praveen asked, breaking the silence.
Ashoka nodded. "Yes. The relic's resonance aligns with the center of the Veil. But… the readings are wrong. This place is alive in ways it shouldn't be."
He tapped the holo-console, and a translucent map bloomed into existence. Streams of energy twisted unnaturally within the nebula, bending in ways that defied the physics they knew.
Captain Meera stepped forward, her face pale under the glow. "Sir, these distortions… they look like signatures from the old Imperial Network, the one destroyed centuries ago."
Ashoka didn't respond immediately. His mind churned. The Imperial Network was supposed to be lost in the Cataclysm — if fragments of it were still active here, that meant someone… or something… had been maintaining it.
"Helm, take us in. Slow burn," Ashoka ordered. "Full sensor sweep. No weapons fire unless I say."
The Aryavarta slipped into the mist, and immediately the ship's shields shimmered as unseen currents pressed against them. The crew felt a chill, as if the nebula itself was watching.
Then came the voice.
At first, it was barely a whisper, threading through the comms — distorted, broken. "Ashoka… you carry… the key…"
Every console flickered. The voice was old, not human, and layered with echoes like it came from a thousand throats at once.
Lieutenant Riya's hands froze above her controls. "Sir… that's not coming from our comm system. It's… inside the ship."
The lights dimmed. Outside, shadows coiled and danced along the mist, forming vague, almost humanoid shapes before dissolving again.
"Ashoka," the voice returned, louder now. "To claim the relic, you must pass the Gate of Silence. Fail… and your empire dies unborn."
The bridge crew exchanged uneasy glances. This wasn't a pirate trap or rogue AI. This was something far older — something that remembered empires before theirs had even risen.
Ashoka's jaw tightened. "Plot a course to this… Gate of Silence."
"Sir," Praveen warned, "if we go deeper, comms and sensors will be useless. We'll be blind."
Ashoka's lips curved into a thin, determined smile. "Then we'll rely on what no machine can see — the will to survive."
The Aryavarta glided forward, vanishing deeper into the mist, toward a destiny wrapped in shadow.
Far behind them, in the silent darkness beyond the nebula, unseen ships began to follow.