The journey through the void had been long, quiet, and strangely unsettling.
Not because anything went wrong — nothing did. The engines hummed steadily, the ships held formation, and the navigation systems worked perfectly. But when thousands of massive ships moved together in silence through endless darkness, it felt less like a fleet and more like a migrating civilization.
Darion often stood on the observation deck of the flagship Erevox Prime, watching the fleet drift through space like silent predators that had forgotten how to roar.
It should have been a majestic sight.
To Darion, it mostly inspired mild nausea and a growing suspicion that Grixen Fold's definition of habitable included the occasional probability of spontaneous death.
Behind him, officers and aides moved quietly, holographic screens glowing softly in the dim command chamber. The fleet status reports floated in the air like obedient ghosts.
Darion leaned against the console, arms folded, expression calm but eyes calculating.
"This is it," he said quietly. "Our new home. Or at least, whatever Grixen Fold considers a place where people don't immediately die."
Kavik sat on the edge of a console nearby, dismantling a gravity stabilizer for reasons known only to him.
"It has potential, my lord," he said, squinting at the holographic projection of the planet.
Darion looked at the rotating image — a dark sphere, scarred, lifeless, and uninviting.
"Potential," Darion repeated slowly. "If by potential you mean barren, scorched, and vaguely suicidal, then yes. It has enormous potential."
Behind them, Mira Koss scrolled through cargo manifests on a datapad, her expression increasingly irritated.
"I still don't understand how ten royal ships were supposed to support a million people."
Darion didn't even turn around.
"Magic," he said. "Or insanity. In our case, usually both."
⸻
As the fleet approached orbit, the planet revealed itself in full.
Darknova was… impressive in its desolation.
The soil was pitch black, as if the planet itself had a personal vendetta against light. Vast plains of dark sand stretched endlessly, broken only by jagged rock formations and the occasional ruins of what might once have been cities.
The atmosphere was thin and grey, carrying ash, ozone, and the faint smell of something long dead.
The massive ships descended slowly, their shadows crawling across the black surface like moving continents.
From the sky, the fleet looked like gods arriving at a world that had already given up.
Darion watched through the viewport as the surface drew closer.
"Looks charming," he said.
Rell Tarn, standing behind him with arms crossed, grunted.
"Charming if you enjoy dying."
Darion nodded slightly.
"Optimistic. I admire that."
⸻
When the flagship landed, the ground shook like a minor earthquake. Dust and black sand rose into the air as the landing thrusters roared.
Waiting for them outside stood Grixen Fold, perfectly dressed, perfectly calm, and smiling like a man who had just sold a broken ship at full price.
"Welcome! Welcome!" Grixen said cheerfully. "To your new home — Darknova! Once the battlefield of legendary warriors who fought against Planet Emerald in ancient times!"
Darion stepped down the ramp slowly and looked around at the endless black wasteland.
"Once fought," Darion said. "And now?"
Grixen smiled politely.
"Destroyed. Scorched. Overcooked, you might say."
Darion stared at the horizon for a few seconds.
"Poetic," he said. "In a deeply horrifying way."
Grixen clasped his hands together.
"The budget was tight, my lord. Think of this as an early investment. In seventy years, with external resources, this planet could be quite livable."
Darion looked at him.
"Seventy years," he repeated. "That's enough time for a forest to die twice."
Grixen nodded happily.
"And as agreed — ten royal ships in exchange for this planet and one year of survival resources."
Darion closed his eyes for a moment.
Ten ships.
A dead planet.
One year of supplies.
A million people depending on him.
He exhaled slowly.
"Fine," he said. "Deal."
Mira crossed her arms.
"One year is not a lot."
Darion smirked faintly.
"Ambitious is another word for 'we might die spectacularly.'"
Rell shrugged.
"At least we die together."
Kavik muttered something about duct tape, neutron stars, and terrible planetary design.
Darion decided not to ask.
⸻
Later, Darion and his closest aides flew in a scout shuttle over the surface of Darknova.
The planet looked worse up close.
From orbit it had looked empty. From the air, it looked dead.
Black sand stretched in every direction like a frozen ocean, dunes moving slowly under thin winds that carried ash instead of dust. Entire regions looked like they had once been cities — you could still see grid patterns beneath the sand, the faint outlines of roads and foundations, but most structures were buried, only the tops of towers sticking out like gravestones.
Some buildings still stood, but they were corroded, eaten away by time and storms, their metal frames exposed like skeletons. Others had collapsed completely, leaving only broken walls half-swallowed by the dunes. In some places, the sand had piled so high that only the upper floors of ancient skyscrapers were visible, as if the planet had tried to bury its own history.
Forests had turned into brittle skeletons.
Rivers were dry scars across the land.
Cities stood in ruins like bones left in the sun.
Mountains in the distance looked wrong — not rounded or natural, but shattered, split open, and pierced by enormous black crystal spikes that rose into the sky like spears. Some mountains looked as if they had melted and then frozen again mid-collapse. Others were cut cleanly in half, like something unimaginably powerful had sliced through them.
Kavik stared at the formations through the scanner window.
"Those spikes aren't natural," he said quietly. "Energy readings are still present. Old… but not dead."
"Old battlefield?" Rell asked.
"Or very angry gods," Kavik replied.