The Council chamber was cloaked in a soft hush. Not of silence, but focus.
Revas sat across from Adam and Mara, the Zabrak's bearing steady as stone. No tension. No fear. Just presence. He hadn't said much since his arrival, but every word carried weight.
"You felt it," Adam said. "The same call we did."
Revas nodded slowly. "Yes. The Force doesn't whisper here. It... pulses. Like it's watching us."
Mara watched him carefully. "And what do you think it wants?"
Revas met her gaze. "Balance."
A quiet moment passed, filled only by the soft hum of systems and a distant waterfall cascading somewhere beneath the Vault.
Then the console lit up. A chime. A signature only Elysiar's inner system could interpret.
"Multiple ships inbound," Serin's voice came through. "Controlled descents. Five unique Force signatures. They'll arrive within the next hour."
Mara straightened, already moving. "More drawn in."
Adam exhaled slowly. "Then let's be ready to receive them."
Elysiar Orbit – Outer Range
As each vessel dropped from hyperspace, the fleet revealed itself.
A breathtaking array of UNSC warships held steady in the upper atmosphere, stationed in elegant defensive formations. Dozens of Sabre-class interceptors prowled like hawks across open skies, while the bulk of the fleet—the towering Autumn-class cruiser, twin Epoch carriers, and supporting frigates—formed a web of protection around the planet.
The fleet shimmered in orbital silence, beautiful and deadly.
To the new arrivals, it was not subtle.
Jedi Scout Vessel "Horizon's Way"
Jedi Knight Vael Norr emerged from hyperspace and was immediately met with a reading that made him pause.
"Defensive web... structured response grid… frigates?" he muttered.
The sight beyond the viewport stole the breath from his lungs.
That wasn't a militia. It wasn't a defense station hastily armed. It was commanded. Curated.
Whoever ruled this world didn't just know how to defend it—they intended to.
Vael watched as a trio of fighters flew past his viewport in perfect formation. They didn't hail. They didn't threaten.
They simply let him know: We see you.
He eased back in his seat, adjusting his approach vector.
"This changes things."
Dathomirian Skimmer "Raven's Veil"
A Nightsister—cloaked in crimson and black, her long dark braids laced with bone and charm—steered her ship into orbit. Her name was Sylva Reth, a seer and former bloodchant singer of the Wyrmclad Sisters.
She had felt the pull for weeks.
But the fleet?
That was not what she expected.
A web of steel encased the sky, humming with energy and vigilance.
"A nest of warriors…" she whispered, her tattooed fingers grazing the console.
The city below shimmered with harmony—but above it, the fangs were bared.
She smiled.
"They know how to protect what's sacred."
Modified Freighter "Ashpath"
Tolin Marek sat hunched in the cockpit, watching orbital scans resolve into staggering detail.
"That's… not Outer Rim junk," he muttered. "Those are coordinated fleet assets."
The heavy cruiser alone would have been enough to command respect. But the formation? The unflinching precision?
He leaned forward, feeling a cold sweat bead at the back of his neck.
He'd come expecting something wild. Primal. Unstructured.
Instead, he found a capital world pretending to be modest.
He adjusted his course and whispered, "Okay... maybe you're not just another hidden cult."
Nightside Arrival Platform – Elysiar
The Interplanetary Relations terminal shimmered as the ships began their descent.
The platforms were arranged in concentric circles, lit by crystal pylons and bordered by gardens and magnetic guide fields. As the first ship touched down, the silence that followed felt thick with meaning.
Adam stood at the edge of the platform with Mara and Revas, Spartan guards and system-linked analysts stationed around them.
The sky was beautiful above—but behind the veil of blue clouds, the UNSC fleet cast long shadows.
And every visitor saw them.
One by one, the guests emerged:
Vael Norr, his eyes scanning the horizon with a cautious reverence.
Sylva Reth, her boots silent against the platform, her fingers tracing runes into the air as she inhaled the Force-rich atmosphere.
Tolin Marek, eyes narrowed, his expression caught between awe and calculation.
None of them spoke at first.
They simply looked—up at the sky, at the distant fleet… then down toward the city that shone like myth, coiled in power and peace.
The balance was unmistakable.
Elysiar was beautiful.
But not defenseless.