The twin suns of Aris-4 set in a bruised violet hue, casting long, skeletal shadows across the hydroponic gardens. For three years, I had built a life here. My wife, Elara, was humming a melody near the moisture cyclers, and our daughter was asleep in the hab-unit. It was perfect. It was a lie. The silence broke not with a sound, but with a signal. My comm-link, buried deep in the encrypted subspace band, flared red. It was a transmission from the High Command of the Resistance, intercepted from the core of the Onyx Citadel. The Dark Lord Vahn has weaponized the tectonic plates of the sector, the data stream screamed. The planet is not a home; it is a fuse. Before I could reach for my blaster, the sky turned white. A shockwave leveled the gardens, ripping the glass domes from their moorings. When I awoke, the world was ash. Vahn’s black-clad Enforcers had moved with surgical precision; they had burned the settlement to the ground and taken those who breathed. I was dragged into t...