Prelude
Before the Seo Empire learns to gild its dead, before the Sovereign Dominion of Nix teaches its children to kneel, there is only the war.
It is said that it does not begin everywhere at once.
It begins with borders. Then crowns. Then bloodlines old enough to mistake themselves for law.
By the final years, no charted sky remains untouched. Moons are emptied. Stations burn over dead orbits. Cities sink beneath their own seas. Thrones pass to heirs without names, and whole systems vanish from the maps, as if ink can make the dead easier to govern.
We are told the last battles are fought over broken pieces of starlight.
Pieces that vanish from vaults, from ships, from the hands of kings and thieves alike until the Universe threatened to close in on itself.
So the victors give the living a story simple enough to survive them:
The war ended.
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