Choosing the Storm

The holographic projections of the Council of the Three Realms flickered with a desperate, erratic pulse, mirroring the frantic beat of Lian Xue’s heart. Outside the sterile chamber, beyond the city’s poisoned walls, the dying Sun cast a weak, malevolent glow. But it was the distant, encroaching darkness that held her attention, a darkness that now bore the chilling visage of seventy-two moon-sized ships. The First Harvester had arrived.

“They are here,” Lian Xue’s voice, though strained, cut through the cacophony of accusations and disbelief. She gestured to the central display, where the cold, hard data of the approaching fleet scrolled with relentless finality. “The Oort Cloud is no longer a shield. They have breached the outer darkness. Forty days, you said? It is less. Forty days until the Tianjie.”

The Celestial Man representative, a shimmering construct of pure light and interwoven circuitry, projected a condescending disdain. “Your ‘Harvesters’ are but a phantom, Doctor. Our sensors detect no such armada. Your primitive biological eyes are easily deceived by atmospheric anomalies.”