The Whisper shuddered as it tore itself from the deathly glow of Artanis. The transition to hyperspace was a gut-wrenching lurch, reality smearing into streaks of impossible light. Vernon pressed his forehead against the cold viewport, watching the last of his home’s star system vanish into the blue-white tunnel.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice hollow.

“Someplace the Imperium doesn’t shine its light,” Marius replied, his hands moving with fluid precision over the navigation console. “Mar-Shada. A non-dominion system. The Imperium calls it a lawless rock. They’re only half-wrong.”

“What’s the other half?”

“It has laws. They’re just written by whoever’s holding the biggest gun that week. Authocracy by warlord. The population is a mix of fugitives, failed merchants, and people who just… fell through the cracks. A perfect place to not be found.”

The journey felt endless, a silent vigil in a metal cocoon. Vernon didn’t speak. He saw his mother’s still form on the chamber floor. He saw the orbital lances carving his father’s fleet into dust.

When the Whisper reverted to real space, a dirty ochre planet filled the view. No glittering orbital rings, no graceful traffic lanes. Just a few clunky defense platforms and a haze of industrial smog.

Marius guided the ship not to a starport, but into the jagged teeth of a mountain range on the night side. They settled in a deep canyon, the ship’s stealth systems blurring its outline against the rock. The only light came from a distant, ramshackle town spilling a sickly yellow glow into the valley.

“Here,” Marius said, handing Vernon a bundle of coarse black fabric. “A robe. Keep the hood up, always. On Mar-Shada, curiosity is a prelude to a knife fight. You are a shadow. Understood?”

Vernon pulled the robe on. It was too large, swallowing his slender frame. He drew the hood forward, the world narrowing to a slit.

They left the Whisper in the silent dark and walked towards the town. The air was thin and carried a metallic tang. The settlement wasn’t a town so much as a scar on the landscape: prefab units stacked haphazardly, rusting pipes venting steam, and the low, constant thrum of generators. Figures moved in the shadows, their purposes opaque.

Marius led him to a structure that was little more than a large metal box. A faded, flickering holosign by the heavy door simply read “DRINKS”. …