The Hollow Expanse thickened around Rotham's ship like molasses in the void. There were no stars now—only a blackness so complete it swallowed the ship's lights before they could bounce back.
And then…The skiff stopped. Not by engines. By force.
In front of him, space peeled open—like a curtain drawn back on the stage of the unknown.
And there it was:
Nexus Zero.
Not a station. Not a planet.
A structure suspended in nothing. Ancient and angular. Composed of impossible geometry that twisted if he looked too long. Its surface shimmered with colors he couldn't name—shifting between reality and dream.
Selin gasped.
"This isn't built. It's remembered into existence."
"Then who remembered it?" Rotham asked.
The answer came without sound.
A presence brushed his mind. Not aggressive. Not welcoming. A raw awareness, older than time itself, watching.
A docking channel extended. Rotham hesitated—then docked.
Inside Nexus Zero, there was no gravity. No oxygen. Yet he stepped out, breathing normally.
This place wanted him to be here.
The hallway led to a room of mirrors—each reflecting a different version of himself. Some broken. Some proud. Some… empty.
And then, at the center of the chamber:
A being.
Floating. Cloaked in layers of shifting energy. Its voice bypassed sound, embedding directly into Rotham's thoughts:
"You are the first to reach us who survived the echo. The first to choose identity over oblivion."
Rotham stepped forward. "Who are you?"
"We are the Nexus. We remember what the universe forgets."
The being raised a shimmering hand.
"And now, Rotham… you must decide what the future forgets."