The nebula thickened until the Aryavarta's hull seemed to swim through liquid starlight. Every few seconds, the inertial dampeners shuddered as invisible tides pulled at the ship.
"All instruments… zero," Lieutenant Riya reported, her voice tight. "Sir, even internal sensors are blind. It's like space itself has been overwritten."
Ashoka stood in the center of the bridge, hands clasped behind his back. "Then eyes only. No screens, no scans. Helm — keep her steady."
The crew exchanged glances. Flying blind in deep space was madness. But something about Ashoka's tone carried an unshakable weight — as if he'd already decided they would make it through.
Then, the mists parted.
A colossal structure emerged, suspended in the void without anchor or motion — a ring, kilometers across, forged of black metal that seemed to absorb all light. Ancient glyphs spiraled along its surface, shifting when one tried to look directly at them. There were no visible engines, no emitters… yet it radiated power like a sun.
"The Gate of Silence," Meera whispered. "It's… beautiful."
But there was no sound. No hum of energy, no faint vibration of machinery. Even the ship's ambient noise seemed swallowed, as if the void itself demanded absolute quiet.
The voice returned, clear and resonant:"One may pass, many will perish. The key-bearer alone may enter."
A beam of pale light shot from the Gate's center, sweeping across the Aryavarta's hull before halting on Ashoka. It was not merely scanning him — it was studying him.
Commander Praveen stiffened. "Sir, I don't like this. If it wants you alone—"
"—then that's what I'll give it," Ashoka said firmly. "Prep the shuttle."
Within minutes, he stood in the docking bay, armored in a lightweight exosuit. The relic fragment he carried pulsed faintly at his side, its light matching the rhythm of his heartbeat. The crew gathered to see him off — some offering quiet salutes, others avoiding his gaze altogether.
Meera stepped closer. "You know this could be a trap. We don't even understand what this 'Gate' is."
Ashoka's eyes hardened. "Every empire falls because its leaders wait for certainty. I won't."
The shuttle detached, gliding toward the black ring. The moment it crossed the threshold of light, the entire world shifted — the nebula vanished, replaced by an endless expanse of fractured stars, each shard hanging like a frozen mirror in the void.
And in the center, waiting, was a figure cloaked in flowing metallic threads. Its face was a shifting mask of constellations, and its voice was the same whisper that had haunted them since entering the Veil.
"Welcome, Ashoka. The relic you carry is but one piece. To claim the next, you must face the Trial of Echoes — and confront the shadow of the empire you will build."
The figure raised its hand. Reality rippled… and Ashoka found himself staring at a vast, burning city — his own flag flying over it — while screams echoed in the distance.