Chapter 133: Blood and Ashes
The screaming began at dawn.
Reed stood at the reinforced viewport of Command Station Alpha, watching crimson auroras dance across the fractured sky of Sector 3. But these weren’t natural phenomena—they were the psychic death throes of millions of minds being systematically extinguished. Lyralei had begun implementing what she called the Final Protocol: the complete suppression of consciousness across every territory that remained under her control.
"Status report," Reed commanded, his voice hollow as ash.
Lieutenant Commander Axis approached with the mechanical precision of someone who had learned to bury his emotions beneath duty. His young face bore fresh scars—souvenirs from the latest dimensional breach—and his eyes held the thousand-yard stare of a soldier who had seen too much.
"Sectors 1 through 8 have gone completely silent," Axis reported. "No communications, no life signs, no dimensional signatures. It’s as if..." He paused, struggling for words. "As if consciousness itself has been switched off."
Reed closed his eyes, feeling the familiar weight of impossible grief. Somewhere in those silent sectors, people who had once laughed, loved, hoped, and dreamed now existed as empty shells. Their bodies remained functional, their basic life processes intact, but everything that made them human had been surgically removed by the woman he had once called his wife.
"What about the dimensional sensitives?" Reed asked, though he already knew the answer would damn what remained of his soul.
"Executed on sight," Communications Officer Vale answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Empress’s forces have standing orders to kill anyone who shows even the slightest psychic ability. They’re calling it ’reality sterilization.’"
Reed’s hands clenched into fists. The dimensional sensitives—those rare individuals who could perceive the fractures in space-time—had once been valued as early warning systems for reality breaches. Now they were being systematically murdered because their abilities made them unpredictable variables in Lyralei’s perfect order.
A new alert chimed through the command center. "Sir," Vale called out, "we’re receiving a transmission from Sector 9. It’s... it’s Captain Thorne."
Reed’s blood turned to ice. Marcus Thorne—one of his most trusted allies, a man who had stood beside him through the Border Wars and the Confluence Crisis. If Thorne was calling from Sector 9, it meant Lyralei’s forces had found another pocket of resistance.