The skies of Nibiru burned red.
Above the dying horizon, towers of crystal and steel shimmered under a thin, fractured sun. Once, this world had been a jewel among stars — but now its rivers were poisoned, its air heavy with ash, and its people restless.
The Danais were a race of power and brilliance, their knowledge spanning stars, their cities rising higher than mountains. Yet beneath their glowing towers lay cracks, spreading like veins of sickness. The very heart of Nibiru was failing.
At the center of the capital, the Celestial Hall rose — a massive ziggurat forged from living stone, wired with glowing veins of energy. Inside, an ancient throne room stretched wide, its walls carved with scenes of victories long past.
On the throne sat King Orakh, ruler of the Danais. His shoulders carried the weight of ages, his golden eyes dulled by exhaustion. Around him gathered the High Council: lords, generals, scholars. Their voices filled the chamber like clashing swords.
"The core fails," growled one elder. "If we do not act, Nibiru will crumble within centuries."
"The people demand salvation," hissed another. "Resources grow thin. We need a new world."
Among them stood Eshar, son of Orakh, born of the queen's line. His long dark hair gleamed with the faint silver hue of royal blood, and his eyes burned not with fear, but with vision. A scientist, a dreamer, and yet a warrior when pressed.
Beside him stood Kael, his half-brother, born of another mother, raised in the fires of discipline. Where Eshar's spirit was curious and restless, Kael's was rigid, sharp, and merciless.
They were brothers by blood, rivals by nature.
Kael's voice cut through the chamber. "We waste time with talk. The Council knows the truth — we must expand outward. If Nibiru cannot sustain us, another world must." His hand curled into a fist. "And if that world resists, it must kneel."
Murmurs rippled through the hall.
Eshar stepped forward, his voice calm yet commanding. "Not all problems are solved by conquest, brother. There are whispers of a world… far beyond, across the void. A world with seas, air, and land rich with the element we need."
The council leaned closer. "A world?"
"Yes," Eshar continued. "The data comes from Zerash — the one who fled. His warnings about Nibiru's decay were ignored, but he found something. A distant sphere, raw and untamed, yet filled with the lifeblood we lack. If we harness it, we may yet survive."
The mention of Zerash stirred unease. Once the kingdom's brightest mind, he had been cast out — cursed as a traitor when he defied the throne. And yet, his visions had proven right before.
Kael sneered. "You would trust the word of a coward? A man who spat on our people and fled into the void?"
"Sometimes," Eshar replied softly, "the exiled see truths the blind cannot."
Orakh raised his withered hand, silencing the chamber. His voice trembled like distant thunder.
"If this world exists… then we must see it with our own eyes."
The chamber fell silent. All eyes turned toward the brothers.
"Kael," Orakh declared, "you will lead the vanguard. Bring strength. Show this world the might of Danais."
"Eshar," he said next, his gaze heavy, "you will go as well. Your mind will weigh what your brother's blade cannot. If this world holds salvation… you will find it."
The decree was final.
The two brothers bowed — one in fury, one in thought.
Above them, the Hall's ceiling split open, revealing the bleeding sky of Nibiru. From the docks, vast starships hummed like slumbering beasts, forged for journeys across the void. Their hulls glowed with runes of power, their engines fueled by crystals drawn from the planet's weakening heart.
The Danais prepared to leave their dying cradle.
Toward a blue world far away.
Toward Earth.