Eryon stood on the command bridge of the Stellar Guardian, the massive ship that was the pride of the Cosmic Wardens. Soft blue light pulsed from the control panels, reflecting the shimmer of cosmic dust—a rare material that powered the ship and enabled instantaneous intergalactic travel. His jet-black hair, slightly tousled across his forehead, caught the glow, making him seem like a fragment of a living galaxy. A few strands dangled above his stern brows, occasionally brushed aside by his restless movements. His eyes—dark gray with a hint of silver—focused on the holographic screen before him, which displayed the desert planet Xerion, his first official mission. There was depth in those eyes, as if they reflected the galaxy itself, yet also shadows of a past he had never let go.
His nose was sharp, marked by a small scar at its base—a remnant from a near-fatal training accident at the Warden Academy. His lips were thin, often tightened in a firm line, yet capable of forming a rare warm smile, as if holding secrets only the stars could understand. His body was lean yet sturdy, shaped by years of exhausting physical and mental training. The black uniform of the Cosmic Wardens hugged his frame perfectly, lined with glowing blue circuits that pulsed like living energy, adapting to his every movement. His broad shoulders projected strength without excess, and his long arms moved with the fluid precision of a trained fighter. His fingers—long, skilled, and careful—glided over the controls with embedded discipline.
Around his neck hung a small pendant—simple metal etched with the faint outline of a star. It was all that remained of his mother, the only memory of Elyria, the lush green planet that had been reduced to ruins by a cosmic conflict two decades ago. The pendant was usually cold to the touch, but sometimes it radiated a strange warmth, as if it were alive. His long legs were clad in high-tech combat boots, built for agility across every terrain—from scorched deserts to glowing forests. Around one ankle, a simple metal bracelet coiled—a gift from his mother, who once taught him to look at the stars and dream of a peaceful future. His posture was upright, though he had a tendency to lean forward when deep in thought, as if chasing truths buried beyond the horizon.
Today marked his first mission as an official Cosmic Warden, and his heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and tension. Elyria, his homeworld, had burned to the ground when he was just a child. He still remembered the flames consuming his house, the screams of his family, and the smoke-filled sky. He had joined the Wardens with a single purpose: to ensure no other world suffered the same fate. Yet beneath his resolve, a silent guilt lingered—he had survived, but his family had not.
"Ready, Eryon?" a voice broke the silence. It belonged to Captain Varen, standing at the far side of the room. His short-cropped gray hair and piercing blue eyes gave him the air of someone who had seen too many wars. A scar cut across his left cheek, adding to his intimidating presence, though there was a hidden gentleness in the way he spoke—like someone who had lost much but endured still. His uniform, identical to Eryon's but adorned with rank insignia, radiated authority without a word.
"Yes, Captain," Eryon replied, his voice steady though his heart churned. He looked at Varen and felt the weight of expectation settle on his shoulders. Varen was not only his commander, but his mentor—a veteran shaped by countless battles. There were stories in the captain's eyes, stories he had never shared, yet Eryon could sense the burden behind them.
"Xerion isn't a hospitable place," Varen said, walking closer. He placed a hand on Eryon's shoulder—a simple gesture, yet full of meaning. "The nomadic tribes there worship cosmic dust as a deity. They don't trust outsiders, and there have been reports of disturbances in the ancient caves. We must stay alert."
Eryon nodded, feeling his pendant pulse lightly on his chest. He didn't know whether it was his imagination, but there was something about Xerion that stirred unease within him. The holographic screen now displayed the red sands of the planet, vast and windswept, with glowing particles of cosmic dust carried by the air, giving the illusion that the sky itself was alive. Cosmic dust was both miracle and weapon—source of travel, energy, and power. Yet on Xerion, it was sacred, woven into ancient myths of the nomads.
The ship began to descend through Xerion's atmosphere, the subtle tremor of re-entry pulsing through the hull. Eryon inhaled deeply, the scent of metal and ozone thick in the recycled air. When the main hatch opened, searing heat swept in, carrying the scent of sand and something more ancient—like a whisper from the past. Wind tugged at his hair as he instinctively reached for his pendant, seeking comfort in the memory of his mother.
Outside, the desert stretched infinitely. Crimson dunes rolled across the horizon, constantly shifting under a sky lit by drifting cosmic particles—sparkling like fallen stars. Eryon stepped out, followed closely by two team members. First was Mira, a genius technician with short brown hair and a perpetual smile that never quite masked the sorrow in her eyes. She wore the standard tech uniform, tools dangling from her belt, her fingers dancing over a handheld device. "It's hot out here," she muttered, but her joking tone couldn't hide the tension.
The second was Kael, a silent warrior with a muscular build. His short black hair and intense emerald eyes revealed little emotion, but his movements were confident and efficient. A heavy energy weapon rested across his shoulder, his steps firm and unyielding—like a soldier who had long accepted danger as his companion. When he glanced at Eryon, there was a flicker of warmth—perhaps a reflection of his younger self.
They were greeted by an old woman from the nomadic tribes. Her wrinkled skin and wise eyes spoke of age and experience. Her tattered robe sparkled faintly with embedded cosmic dust. "There is a dark presence in the ancient caves," she rasped, her voice dry as desert winds. "Something that does not belong to this world."
Eryon felt his pendant throb again, as if responding to her words. He looked to Captain Varen, who nodded curtly. "We'll investigate," the captain said. "Eryon, you're with me. Mira, Kael—secure the perimeter."
Mira gave a quick nod, her fingers already scanning the device for environmental anomalies. The soft glow of the screen lit her face, accentuating the faint lines around her eyes—a quiet sign of burdens carried behind her cheer. "I'll monitor from here," she said lightly, but her tone was focused. "If anything happens, you'll know."
Kael gave a soft grunt, adjusting his weapon as his emerald eyes swept across the desert, always on guard. His posture was rigid, as if always ready for battle. "Don't take too long," he muttered to Varen, his tone flat but caring. He glanced briefly at Eryon, and for a moment, warmth flickered in his eyes—like an older brother worried for his younger sibling.
Eryon nodded to them both, feeling the growing weight of responsibility pressing down. He followed Varen toward the ancient caves, each step sinking slightly into the crimson sand that shimmered underfoot. The cosmic dust swirled around him like fallen stars, and with every step, it felt as though he were walking not just through the desert—but through time itself.
The ancient caves of Xerion lay nestled at the base of towering red cliffs, their entrances like the open jaws of a slumbering beast. The outer walls bore carvings of spirals and stars, glowing faintly from embedded cosmic dust, as if they breathed with the planet itself. A chill touched Eryon's skin as he entered—unnatural cold, stark against the desert heat. His pendant pulsed warmly, causing his heartbeat to quicken. He touched it unconsciously, feeling its rough, worn surface—so old, and yet so significant.
Varen led the way, his energy blade casting a soft light into the darkness. "Stay behind me," he said firmly, not turning his head. Eryon nodded, his hand gripping the energy weapon at his side. His steps were cautious, boots brushing over fine sand that coated the cave floor.
Suddenly—blaster fire.
Red light burst in the shadows. Varen's shield activated in a flash, forming a glowing blue barrier that deflected the shot. Eryon reacted instantly, tapping the trigger on his gauntlet to raise his own shield. Light flared around him as his face tensed in focus. Amid the chaos, he saw a figure move—quick and shadowy, cloaked in black. Their eyes—dark green with an otherworldly glow—met his for a split second. There was no hatred in that gaze, only something strange… understanding. The figure—later known as Sylas—vanished into the darkness as quickly as he had appeared.
The ambushers retreated after a short skirmish, leaving only smoke and the acrid scent of scorched metal. Varen knelt beside a softly glowing object on the ground. "The Cosmic Key," he whispered, voice tight with awe. It was a small crystal, pulsing gently with blue light, like a heartbeat.
"If this falls into the hands of The Void," he added, "the entire universe could be at risk."
Eryon stared at the artifact, a strange pull tugging at his chest. His pendant throbbed again—stronger than before—almost as if it were calling to the crystal. He wanted to speak, to ask what it all meant, but Varen's words cut him short.
"We need to get back to the ship. Now."