The void of space shimmered faintly as the massive dread-carrier ferrying the Kirell prisoners approached Gharar's orbit. Inside its obsidian hull, the vessel's decks vibrated with the quiet pulse of restrained power. The shadow-emblazoned insignia of the Mahasimu Empire gleamed on its surface like a brand.
A transmission crackled through as the ship neared the primary docking corridor of Giza Mtuji, Queen Suama's personal mothership, which now loomed like a black sentinel above the prison world.
On the bridge, Vaelora stood still, hands clasped behind her back, expression unreadable. The holo-display lit up with the visage of Royal Commander Nyota, her armor reflecting the disciplined fury of a thousand campaigns.
"State your designation and transfer code," Nyota commanded, her tone like a blade unsheathed.
Vaelora's voice was soft, but her words carried with crystalline precision. "Designation: Whisperer Vaelora of the Inner Court. Transfer Code: ΔVX-Shadow-781-KirellBatch-One."
Nyota's gaze narrowed. "Confirmed. Be advised—Her Majesty Queen Suama is planetside, preparing for an audience with her sister, Princess Safi. Tread carefully. The Queen's tolerance for failure… is nonexistent."
The channel cut abruptly. Vaelora turned to her crew, her eyes flashing with shadow-light. She tapped into the ship's intercom.
"All personnel—report to the central assembly hall immediately. This is not a routine transfer. You will conduct yourselves with absolute discipline. The eyes of the Queen are upon us. Any disgrace before the Umbari enforcers or in the presence of Her Majesty will result in summary punishment."
The Transfer
The Kirell slaves were lined up in silence—thousands of them chained in long, shuffling rows. The two who served Vaelora stood apart, dressed in slightly finer wraps, hands behind their backs in obedient mimicry of their mistress.
On the surface of Gharar, the dark skies churned as storms brewed in the distance. The Umbari enforcers waited beneath the platformed gates of the Transfer Citadel—obsidian-armored figures with elongated helms and energy batons humming with malicious intent.
The handoff was swift. Vaelora, flanked by two Shadowscourge commanders, led the procession of shackled Kirell down the descending ramps. The Umbari commander inspected each one, marking counts and verifying codes. One tried to speak—a final cry for mercy. A baton silenced him.
Vaelora watched without blinking.
"Do not delay their sorting," she told the enforcer captain. "If these creatures fail to meet output quotas, the shame will fall on Gharar's overseer, not me."
Transition of Authority
Overseer Xal'taroth awaited at the primary vault—a being of sheer calculated brutality, robed in living shadow. His jaw, twisted from some ancient injury, emitted a guttural growl as he accepted the final tallies.
"Prisoners accepted. They will be integrated and filed within Sector Epsilon-Dravh. This is… appreciated, Whisperer Vaelora."
"You misunderstand," Vaelora said coldly. "This is not a gift. It is a burden to be managed—poorly, if your past records indicate anything. I expect results."
Punishment from the Ancient Queen
In the depths of the citadel, below even the interrogation halls, Princess Safi sat shackled within a gravity ring, her once-regal posture slouched under days of isolation and psychological strain. Her uniform was torn, eyes sunken—but the fire of rebellion still flickered inside her.
When the projection lit the room, she looked up. The figure of the Ancient Queen—Suama and Safi's progenitor, the living myth who had ruled in the forgotten ages—manifested in towering light.
The Ancient Queen's voice rang like a cosmic judgment.
"You, who shared my blood, sought to fracture our empire. You allied with traitors. You sullied the name of Mahasimu with cowardice and idealism."
Safi tried to speak, but the ring tightened. Her bones creaked.
"You will remain in Gharar until your will is broken. No contact. No mercy. Your titles are stripped. Your name forgotten. From this moment, you are nothing."
As the projection vanished, a single tear carved its way down Safi's cheek—not of sorrow, but of fury unspoken.