The silver tear descended.
It was not a ship of metal and fire. It moved without propulsion, cutting through the atmosphere with a silence that was more unsettling than any roar. As it grew larger, its form resolved. It was a single, vast, impossibly smooth shard of obsidian, a mile from tip to tip, tapered to a point that seemed to cut the light itself. It did not reflect the sun; it drank it, leaving a sliver of perfect black against the bright blue sky.
Every citizen of Portentia, every soldier in the newly christened Nexus Coalition, looked up. The twenty years of peace had been a time of wonders, of new species and new technologies. But this was different. This felt… final.
The ship did not land. It came to a halt a thousand feet above the central plaza, hanging in the air with an effortless, absolute stillness.
In the courthouse, the council chamber was tense.
