Among the lifeless volcanic ridges and suffocating grey skies, hidden beneath nature's final breaths, lay one of the most secret havens in the entire Lilliput Star System — the Ashen Mountains. Amid the vast lands that had long been stripped and scorched, this place still pulsed with rare greenery, as if clinging defiantly to life. It was here that the Eyrvaks made their stand.
A chilling wind brushed past the jagged cliffs as Dr. Sylk, a tall Zypherian woman in a deep emerald cloak and cybernetic bracers, stepped from the cave mouth into the half-lit clearing. Her six arms adjusted her lenses as she scanned the path below.
"Ka'roth!" she called with authority, her voice echoing against the rocks.
From the smoke-veiled trail emerged a tall Zypherian with charcoal-red skin, scars crisscrossing his body like roads of fire. He was flanked by Verdalian escorts — captains of four ships, their green skin shimmering, silver hair tucked beneath battle helms. They stood like emerald titans in the ash-gray world, unmistakable in their calm yet unshakable presence.
Among them hobbled Old Man Zor, his body mangled by war — all six arms gone, only one blind eye still burning with clarity. Yet when he heard Ka'roth's voice, he smiled faintly.
Ka'roth stepped forward, eyes on Dr. Sylk. "How is Commander Targan?"
Dr. Sylk gave a rare smile. "He lives. And he waits for all of you. He's ready."
A roar erupted from the depths of the mountain. The Eyrvaks, the rebel warriors and outcasts hardened by tyranny, erupted in cheers. Krith, the young berserker, pounded his fists into the stone beside him. Rom, the strategist, clutched a map scroll tighter, emotion washing over his usually calm face. Even the medics and scouts in the rear lifted their heads in hope.
Old Man Zor nodded slowly, a tear slipping from his ruined eye socket. "He returns… like a storm."
From the shadows behind, Targan stepped forward — tall, armored, eyes sharp. His arrival quieted the mountain. Every heartbeat seemed to still.
He knelt before Zor and touched his head to his mentor's broken hand. "I'm back, elder."
Zor gave his blessing in silence.
Then Ka'roth turned to the Verdalian captains and bowed deeply. "Your people's aid means more than you know. The galaxy watches. The Verdalian flame… may it light our path."
The four captains saluted in their traditional style, one hand on heart, the other pointed skyward.
Targan rose and looked at his warriors. "This alliance we've forged… will not be just another symbol. We will hold the council of rebellion in unity with all others — from Narlak's Maw to the burning fields of Shadrax."
He raised his fist. "This throne of poison will fall. And we — the Eyrvaks — will strike first."
Cheers shook the walls.
The alliance was alive.
The war to reclaim the stars had begun.
The shadows of the Ashen Mountains whispered with the wind as the hidden sanctum of the Eyrvaks stirred once more. A thunderous cheer erupted as a band of weathered warriors emerged from the western gorge—led by none other than Bill, the fierce and unyielding Eyrvak captain who had risked everything to save Targan.
Dirt-covered and bloodied from the narrow escape, Bill dropped to one knee before Ka'roth and Commander Targan, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.
"Mission complete, my lords. The distraction worked. Targan was pulled out safely. And... we bring with us an honored guest."
The rebels parted as a tall figure stepped forward from the escort group—Jodu, right hand to Rovin, commander of the Scorched Branch. His arrival sent a wave of surprise through the crowd. This was no mere soldier—he was a tactician, one of the finest in the rebellion across Vokar.
Old Man Zor, resting against the carved stone arch, smiled with his lone remaining eye. Despite his maimed body, his spirit glowed brighter than ever. He raised his voice:
"You did well, Bill. You brought not only hope, but a bridge between branches of this resistance. You carry the fire that will one day burn through the chains of the throne."
Ka'roth stepped forward, placing a hand on Bill's shoulder and then nodded to Jodu.
"With the Verdalians here, with Scorched Branch and Eyrvaks reunited... the alliance we've dreamt of begins to take shape."
Targan raised his sword high, its crimson reflection bouncing off the mountain rock.
"Tonight, we prepare. Tomorrow, the meeting begins. We decide the future of Lilliput's star system—not in fear, but in fury. The throne shall tremble."
The rebels roared in unison. The alliance had begun to solidify. The time for shadows
was nearing its end.
Far from the ash-burned cliffs and rebel strongholds, within the swirling cosmic depths of Narlak's Maw, a vast nebula-hollow that served as a hidden cradle for the resistance, preparations reached a crescendo.
Inside the domed war hall carved into the heart of a massive asteroid, members of the Scorched Branch moved like shadows and fire. At the command tier, Rovin, their battle-hardened leader, stood with arms crossed, the scars of a hundred battles etched into his face.
A younger warrior approached, voice firm.
"Commander Rovin. We've received word—Jodu is safe. He's with the Eyrvaks. Their captain Bill delivered him personally."
Rovin's stern face loosened slightly.
"Good. Then the mission wasn't for nothing. Is the chamber ready?"
"Yes, my lord. Everything is set. The delegates are arriving."
Moments later, the great platform chamber opened with a low, resonating hum. Through its massive gates entered captains and warriors from across the resistance. The Z4 Captains led by the sharp-eyed Captain Jigo, each bearing the crest of their shattered homeworlds.
Then came the verdalians—green-skinned, silver-haired, proud and noble despite the weight of exile. Jason Amberdenk, the captain of the entire verdalian fleet, walked beside Shin, his silent steps echoing with the calm of a storm yet to come. Together they represented Verdalia's voice in this council of war.
Above, perched on a high observatory deck, stood Mek'lar, wrapped in robes of starlight and ash. His eyes shimmered as he took in the sight of the united factions gathering—a vision once thought impossible.
He whispered softly to himself,
"Oh my... what a beautiful sight. Gen'kem… if only you were still alive to see this. This... is the unity we fought for."
Below him, war horns sounded as the platform lights dimmed and converged on the center—a great round table of obsidian, carved with the emblems of the old alliances.
The greatest rebellion the Lilliput star system had seen in centuries was about to take form.