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- Outer Orbit, approaching Sol System -
- Some Years Ago – Aboard the Red Maw -
The Red Maw glided through space like a ghost ship on fire—its jagged hull painted in rust-red and obsidian black, cannons protruding like dragon teeth. The stars reflected off its pitted armor, most of them battle scars from a hundred skirmishes across dying moons and rebel asteroids. It was feared. It was infamous. And it was hungry for its next prize.
Inside, the ship pulsed with energy—crew members darting about the metal corridors, shouting in a dozen languages, loading plasma rifles and recalibrating long-range cannons. The bounty hunters of the Red Maw were not soldiers. They were worse—mercenaries with no allegiance but to coin and conquest. The kind who'd kill for a cause one day and bury the cause the next.
At the central docking bay, towering over the floor from a steel overlook, stood their leader—Captain Gorr'Thrak Bloodtide, a hulking, tusked being with dark, matted braids and armor lined with bones of beasts not found in most star charts. A long, curved blade hung at his hip, and a cybernetic eye flickered crimson under the brim of his scorched hat. A real pirate's hat, no less. Torn, tacky, and earned.
He watched his crew with the disinterested calm of someone who had outlived every uprising thrown at him.
Boots clanked behind him.
"Captain," came a voice—sharp, young, respectful. It was Raxx, his right hand. Lithe and feline, Raxx's striped skin and glimmering eyes marked him as a Varanian—a race bred for agility and stealth. He stopped just behind Gorr'Thrak, clearing his throat slightly.
Gorr'Thrak didn't look back. "Speak."
"We'll be reaching the target system in just a few hours. That… blue little ball, Earth."
The captain gave a low grunt of approval.
But Raxx hesitated. Just enough for Gorr'Thrak to pick up on it.
A faint smirk crossed the old pirate's scarred lips. "Out with it, boy. You're twitchin' like a moonrat on ice."
Raxx stepped forward. "It's just… why Earth? I mean, with all due respect, Captain—it's a backwater. Not even outta their own atmosphere. No tech worth plundering. No empires to ransom."
Gorr'Thrak chuckled—a deep, gravelly sound that echoed against the bulkhead walls.
"Funny thing about the stars, Raxx. It's never the loudest worlds that hide the best treasure. Sometimes it's the ones that don't even know they've got somethin' worth takin'."
He reached Into his belt pouch and drew out a small leather bag, tied with golden thread.
Raxx frowned. "What is that?"
Gorr'Thrak opened it with one rough tug.
Sand.
But it didn't fall like regular grains. It shimmered as it hovered—golden particles dancing mid-air, almost like they were alive, each speck catching the light and twisting it like a prism.
"Sands of Time," Gorr'Thrak said, voice quiet for once. "Real fancy. Came straight from the Collector. Said it cost him more than most starships ever built."
Raxx blinked. "The Collector… gave you that?"
"Aye," the captain nodded. "Said it's the key to the prize. Some ancient place on Earth, sealed tighter than a Rakar slug's backside. Barrier erected by some ancient human conjurer… 'Merlin,' I think he called 'im."
"Merlin?" Raxx repeated, puzzled.
"Don't know who the blighter was. But must've been powerful enough for the Collector to care. Said the barrier'd eat through reality if opened wrong. But the Sands… they're the key. Made to unlock only that seal."
Raxx narrowed his eyes. "And the prize?"
The captain shrugged. "Didn't ask. Don't care. All I know is—what's behind that seal's worth a hundred lifetimes of treasure. Enough to let us retire fat, drunk, and comfortable on a sun-laced planet somewhere."
Raxx paced slightly, uneasy. "But Earth's protected. The Sorcerers. That old one in yellow robes. The Pantheons of Gods. The mutants. And… the others. We're not exactly invisible."
"Aye," Gorr'Thrak said, grinning, "but we're not stayin' for tea. Just in, grab the shiny, out. Before any capes or gods even smell us."
He patted the pouch gently. "With this, we slip past Merlin's little party trick, grab what's needed, and vanish like stardust."
Raxx folded his arms. "You trust the Collector?"
"Hell no," Gorr'Thrak spat. "But I trust greed. And his's bigger than mine. That means he wants whatever's down there bad. Which means… it's worth even more than he's lettin' on."
A hum passed through the ship—engines shifting. The stars ahead twisted slightly as the Red Maw began its silent descent toward the solar system.
"Prep the stealth field," the captain barked. "Tell the crew no fire, no chatter, no glory kills. We land silent. We leave ghosts."
"Aye, Captain."
Raxx turned to leave, but paused one last time.
"Sir… you think Earth'll just let us take it?"
Gorr'Thrak smiled—slow, wicked, knowing.
"Every world thinks it's special… until it bleeds."
The sand shimmered again as he tied the pouch shut.
And below them, a blue world spun in silence—unaware, unready, and holding a secret even the stars had forgotten.
But not for long.
Not for long.
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- Earth -
- Northern Ireland – Hidden Tomb -
The Red Maw was like a ghost in the sky—silent, cloaked, and drifting like a wisp of smoke against the stars. Earth didn't have any satellites yet, and even if they did in near future they won't register it, athe cloaking technology on the Red Maw was one of the best in the universe at the moment. Its engines emitted no traceable radiation. To the world below, it didn't exist.
Yet in the folds of magic, where time whispered and power flowed like rivers beneath skin, it shimmered faintly. A ripple in the fabric only those attuned to the arcane or the unnatural could sense. Sorcerers, gods, and certain sensitive minds might have noticed. But the place it descended upon—an old tomb, cradled by rolling hills and swallowed by moss and time—was forgotten by most.
The locals didn't come here. They spoke of bad dreams and strange sounds, but the warnings had long faded into superstition. Now, the ancient mound was little more than a grassy hill, tucked between misty forests and crumbling stone fences. A place not on any map.
But it was not unoccupied.
Deep within the shadows, curled against cool stone and rooted into the earth like a venomous secret, he waited.
A Deviant.
His name had been lost to time, even to himself. A survivor—scarred, twisted, and changed beyond recognition by centuries of hiding. Once part of a terrible race, born to serve the whims of the Celestials, he had lived while his kind were hunted and destroyed by the perfect ones—the Eternals. And while they played gods among mortals, he had fled, mutated, and changed. Now, not even their greatest minds could trace his scent.
He had found this place by chance, drawn by a pulse he barely understood. Ancient. Celestial. Powerful. Long ago, he had tried breaking into the tomb, but a barrier, stronger than anything he had known, had thrown him back. Something old, laced with spells from another world—or perhaps another time. So he waited. Through storms and wars, through decades of silence, feeding on beasts and thoughts of vengeance.
And tonight, something stirred.
The air crackled. The tomb trembled. A presence descended.
He opened his glowing eyes and slithered silently from his hidden lair between roots and bones.
The Red Maw had arrived.
The ship's legs settled without sound, displacing no wind, disturbing no creatures. Its camouflage shimmered slightly as it touched down on the ancient stones, almost like a reflection breaking on water. The hatch hissed open, releasing a cold gust of sterile air into the damp, earthy tomb.
Gorr'Thrak Bloodtide was the first to step out.
He didn't speak at first. His cybernetic eye scanned the site, taking in the carvings etched into the tomb's stonework, the silence, the pressure in the air—thick like old wine.
Behind him followed five of his best. A living tank with rocket arms. A six-eyed sniper with a tail like a whip. A flame-wielding assassin from the Pyraxis Belt. A war priest covered in bone charms. And Raxx, quiet, alert, ready.
The Deviant, hidden In the thick stone above, grinned with jagged teeth. "Come closer," he thought. "Do what I could not."
Gorr'Thrak reached into his belt and retrieved the pouch.
He knelt before the sealed doorway—where ancient glyphs still pulsed faintly in colors unseen by human eyes.
The Sands of Time shimmered once more.
He raised his hand, muttering the words the Collector had taught him. The sands flowed upward, forming patterns mid-air. A circle. A spiral. A fracture of time itself.
The barrier shuddered.
And then, it yielded—not broken, but gently unwound, like time moving backward. The glyphs dimmed. The air stilled.
A low hum passed through the tomb as the passage opened. Dust fell like snowflakes in slow motion.
Gorr'Thrak burst out laughing. "Ha! And they said old magic was clever. Nothing beats coin and the right keys, eh boys?"
Raxx gave a cautious nod but didn't smile.
The pirate captain stood, brushing his hand on his coat. "Mark this, lads—once we got the prize, this sand's ours. Collector won't miss it if he's busy admiring his next pet rock."
They entered, boots crunching on untouched stone.
They didn't see the movement above them.
Didn't sense the warped presence that clung to the ceiling like a predator.
The Deviant's eyes gleamed. "Fools," he thought. "Walk ahead. Open every door. I will take what's worth keeping once you bleed."
Silently, he dropped from the ledge and followed.
The tomb closed behind them.
And below, where time had stood still, something began to stir.
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