Captain Rhea Novik stood before the observation window, her reflection merging with the cold expanse beyond. The stars here were different—sharp, silent, distant as secrets never told. The *Asterion* glided along the dark frontier of The Silent Verge, a region untouched since the dawn of recorded exploration. Data feeds hummed softly behind her, their patterns whispering anomalies the human mind couldn't fully grasp.
"Captain," Seraph's voice echoed from the bridge speakers, calm yet faintly human. "Temporal readings are unstable. Space is bending, but not under gravity."
Rhea touched the glass, feeling a slow vibration ripple through the hull. For a moment, she thought she heard a sound—not mechanical, not cosmic—a heartbeat. Then, silence.
In the corridor beyond, the crew moved cautiously, their faces pale under the sterile light. Fear traveled like static through the air. They were explorers of the impossible, but none had prepared for the sensation of being watched by the absence itself.
Rhea exhaled. "Maintain course," she ordered. "We've come too far to turn back now."
Outside, the stars flickered once, then vanished—replaced by an immense glow neither natural nor artificial. The universe, it seemed, had begun to notice their presence.