Lucien Vortan leaned back in his throne of gold-laced alloy, high above the capital world of Aurelia Prime. His advisors murmured around the oval table, holographic planets rotating above them. The stars outside glittered, unaware of the treason still pulsing in their light.
"...The signal came from Sector Zeta-12."
Lucien's lips curled.
"Impossible. That sector was purged three centuries ago."
The Minister of Internal Surveillance shifted uncomfortably. "The neural signature matched… him."
A chill swept the room.
Lucien stood, his eyes burning not with fear—but hatred.
"Then we failed. I should've vaporized the boy myself."
Far away, Kael stood aboard the Oblivion Crown as it powered through the debris belt surrounding his lost empire. His clones manned stations, silent but precise. Systems roared back to life. Each control node lit up with a pulse from his neural crown.
"Council activity detected. Lucien has confirmed your return."
Kael's smirk was razor-thin. "Let him prepare. That will make his failure sweeter."
He stepped forward, eyes locked on the galactic map. The Council of Suns—a coalition of former noble houses, megacorporations, and bio-clergy—had long erased his name from history.
It was time they remembered.
On Aurelia Prime, alarms flared.
A fleet had dropped from hyperspace.
But not to attack.
Instead, a singular encrypted transmission echoed across the system—Kael's voice, laced with a dark command protocol:
"I am the black flame reborn. I am vengeance from the void. The rightful sovereign has returned. Surrender your stars… or I will take them one by one."