INTO THE GREY
In a sprawling universe divided into galaxies brimming with ancient civilizations, a hidden layer of existence lies beneath what most beings perceive as reality. This “Veil” is a metaphysical barrier that separates the known physical universe from the Astral Realm—a dimension of pure consciousness and unbound power. Only a select few, known as Seers, have the innate ability to pierce through the Veil, manipulate its energies, and shape reality itself.
For centuries, the Seers have served as guardians of balance, ensuring the Veil remains intact, lest its immense energies collapse into chaos. But lurking within the shadows are their archenemies: the Darkcasters, former Seers corrupted by the allure of power. These malevolent beings seek to tear down the Veil and merge the Astral Realm with the physical universe, granting themselves godlike dominion—but at the cost of universal annihilation.
As the galaxy teeters on the brink of an apocalyptic convergence, a small band of heroes must rise, each wrestling with their own burdens, secrets, and destinies. The battle for the Veil will test not just their abilities, but their faith in one another—and in the very fabric of existence.
INTO THE GREY
Transforming Weakness into Strength
Episode 3, into the Grey. They crash-landed on the far side of the vortex, the Argent Wraith barely holding together as it touched down in a valley of rolling golden fields surrounded by towering crystalline trees that shimmered under the light of three suns. The air was thick, with scented mist, soft and warm, humming with the presence of life. And watching them from the ridgeline, above antlers, gleaming like polished obsidian, stood the Hitchy Tall, elegant figures with luminescent markings across their skin, their movements graceful, deliberate. They did not raise weapons, they did not speak, they only watched. Leora stepped forward, first placing her hand over her chest, in a slow, deliberate gesture, a sign of peace, a request for passage. After a moment, one of the Hitchi, an elder with antlers carved in delicate spirals, stepped forward, inclining his head. You carry the dead, he said in a voice, like wind through stone. Don swallowed hard, nodding. Then you may enter. The elder said softly for the Hitchi, do not turn away those who seek to honor their fallen.
Speaker 1:The Hitchi burial grounds were unlike anything Dain had ever seen A great terraced plateau lined with stone monuments covered in veil-etched script, each standing as a marker for those who had been returned to the stars, each standing as a marker for those who had been returned to the stars. Zarek's body was placed upon a stone dais at the highest point, bathed in the golden glow of the setting suns. The Hitchis stood in silent reverence, their long robes flowing in the wind, their antlers gleaming like holy relics. Evra stood at the foot of the platform, her hands clenched, her expression unreadable but her eyes red-rimmed. Leora bowed her head, whispering ancient words in the language of the veil, sending Zarek's essence into the current of time itself. Current of time itself and Dane.
Speaker 1:Dane stepped forward last. His throat was raw, his hands trembled. I didn't know you. Long he murmured, but you treated me like I mattered. You made me laugh when I wanted to run. His voice cracked and I should have saved you. The wind stirred and I should have saved you. The wind stirred, carrying his words away. Then the Hitchi lifted their hands and a veil-light flame ignited, wrapping Zarek's body in a soft, glowing embrace before dissolving into the wind. Dain closed his eyes, feeling the moment burn into his soul A promise, a loss, a war waiting to be fought. And, far above, the stars burned bright. The storm has already begun and Dane has lost the first piece of himself. To it, the funeral pyre had burned away into nothing but embers and silence. The golden grasses of the hitchy burial grounds whispered as the wind carried Zarek's ashes into the eternal expanse of sky, scattering him among the stars he once cursed and laughed at in equal measure.
Speaker 1:Dain stood where he had been standing for what felt like hours, staring at the empty stone dais, his hands curled into shaking fists, his breath ragged, uneven. His whole body felt tight, constricted, like his very bones were trying to contain something that didn't belong inside him anymore. Pain, Not the kind that came from bruises or wounds, not the kind he could see or touch. This was something deeper, something that broke, things that couldn't be mended. His chest felt hollow, as if the veil had reached into him and torn out a part of himself, a part that he had only just started to understand. Zarek had been there. Zarek had been there Even though Dain had barely known him. It felt like he had always known him, like Zarek had filled the spaces that had always been empty. He had mocked him like a brother, had pushed him like a mentor, had believed in him like a fool who thought they had more time. But they didn't, because time wasn't kind to people like them, because the veil took what it wanted, and it had wanted. Zarek Dane swallowed hard, his throat raw, his teeth clenched so hard, his jaw ached. His hands trembled as he turned away from the dais, his heart hammering too hard, too fast. The veil had called him Veilborn, but what did that even mean if he couldn't save the people who mattered?
Speaker 1:He felt Leora's presence before he saw her. The way the air around her always seemed to hum slightly, as if the veil itself was woven into the very threads of her being. She stood a few paces away, watching him with those eyes that saw too much. She didn't speak at first, and for once Dane was grateful. Finally, when the silence grew too heavy to bear, she said the veil does not claim without reason.
Speaker 1:Dane's hands curled into fists of rage. Then tell me what the reason was for this. He ground out his voice, sharp, dangerous. Tell me what the reason was for Zarek dying in that damned ship while I? He cut himself off his breath, shuddering his body, fighting against the weight of grief pressing down on him like an iron hand.
Speaker 1:Leora studied him and in the fading light of the funeral pyre, she looked haunted, weary, old, in a way that had nothing to do with time. "'there is no mercy in the veil, dayan'. She murmured. "'it does not give, it only takes. It does not grant its power freely, it binds'". Dine turned sharply to her, his blood boiling, pulsing, screaming. Then why did it bind me? Why the hell did it pick me if I can't? Even His voice broke, if he couldn't even save the first person who had ever treated him like family? Leora exhaled, slowly, stepping forward. She lifted her hand and the veil rippled, faintly, subtly, like something just beneath the surface was listening. You were not chosen for power, she said softly. You were chosen because you will break before you bend. Her words sliced through him, cutting deep into the marrow of his grief, his rage, his helplessness.
Speaker 1:Don's breath hitched his head, pounding his pulse wild. And then he felt it the veil responding. It pulsed inside him, cold and warm at the same time. A tether wrapped around his soul the same time. A tether wrapped around his soul, something that did not belong but had always been there, and it was binding tighter. He doubled over, gasping as the energy in his blood coiled, surged his vision, warping as flashes of something else. Something old, something waiting old, something waiting filled his mind. A blade dripping with starlight, a voice, a whisper, a command. You are the thread that must not break. He collapsed to his knees, his breath shattered, his body aching. Leora knelt beside him, her voice, steady, calm, the only anchor keeping him from falling into whatever abyss the veil wanted to pull him into. You feel it now, don't you? She murmured. Dane clenched his teeth. He did. The veil wasn't just inside him, it was part of him and no matter how much he fought, no matter how much he wanted to tear it out, burn it away, let it die with Zarek, it would never let him go.
Speaker 1:The Hitchi stood in reverent silence watching as the final embers of Zarek's pyre flickered out. Dain forced himself to stand, his legs shaking, his head still ringing from the weight of whatever had just happened. Evra stood nearby, her expression unreadable. Her arms crossed tight over her chest. But Dane could see it, the grief trying to swallow her whole. He turned to her and before he could think, before he could stop himself, before he could even understand what was driving him, he made a promise I won't let this happen again. He said, voice rough, raw, unshakable. Ivra's eyes snapped to his, something cold and sharp flashing through them. Don't make promises, you can't keep kid. But Dane shook his head. I don't care what the veil wants, I don't care what it thinks. It's binding me to His hands curled into fists. I won't let the people I care about be taken from me again. Evra's jaw clenched, but she nodded. And Leora, she just watched, because she knew she had seen this story before. A seer, a power. They could not escape, a promise that would shatter them before it could be kept. But she said nothing, because the veil had already bound Dane to something greater than himself. And now, now it was only a matter of who would break first, dane or the galaxy. The veil does not give, it only binds, and Dane has begun to feel the weight of his chains.
Speaker 1:The Argent Wraith descended into the night-choked skies of Aeroth Kai, a lawless planet where the strongest ruled with fire and blood. The surface gleamed with the smoldering remains of past battles, its jagged spires of black rock jutting into the heavens like the teeth of some ancient beast hungry for war. Dain stood on the observation deck, his hands gripping the railing as he watched their destination draw closer. His mind was still a storm of grief, rage and doubt, his body still aching from the veil's relentless pull. He was tired, but there was no time for rest, because they weren't here for diplomacy. They were here to bargain with a warlord. Tell me again why this is a good idea, evra muttered, arms crossed over her chest as she stepped up beside him. We need a passage through the Darkcaster-controlled territories, leora said evenly, her violet eyes, calm but unreadable, and Warlord Cordus has the fleet. We need Dayne, exhaled sharply, his stomach twisting. We need Dane, exhaled sharply, his stomach twisting.
Speaker 1:Cordis, the name was legend, and not in a way that meant songs and statues. He was a butcher, a man who had turned battle into art and who saw allies as expendable as enemies. He had survived the collapse of entire empires, had burned a hundred planets into the void, had never once bent the knee to another, and now they were about to ask him for a favor. Terrific Zarek would have laughed at the stupidity of it. The thought burned, but Dayne forced it down. No more hesitation.
Speaker 1:The War Hall of Cordis was carved from the bones of fallen warships, its towering structure a monument to conquest. The warlord sat on a throne made of fused weapons, his body a fortress of muscle and cybernetic enhancements, his face marked with scars that told stories of wars long since forgotten. His voice was like thunder rolling over a battlefield when he spoke you come seeking my favor, cordis mused, his lips curving into a cruel smile. But favor is not given seers, it is taken. His gaze landed on Dane, the weight of it like a hammer. Blow this one, cordis said. The amusement in his voice unmistakable. He reeks of untapped potential of a boy pretending to be a warrior. Dane stiffened his pulse, quickening Cordis leaned forward. So tell me, boy, can you prove you're worth my time? Dane knew what was coming before the warlord even stood.
Speaker 1:The first hit came faster than light a blur of raw power and brutality. Dane barely had time to raise his arms before Cordis's fist slammed into his gut, sending him skidding across the war hall floor. Pain exploded through his ribs. He coughed, gasping for air, his vision flickering as the world tilted sideways. You are weak, cordis said simply, rolling his shoulders as if he had barely exerted himself. The veil does not make you powerful, boy, it tests you, and right now you are failing.
Speaker 1:Dain gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. His entire body screamed in protest. But something deep inside him, something forged in fire, in loss, in the merciless hands of fate, refused to stay down. He pushed himself up, steadied his stance and charged. The veil pulsed at his fingertips. Energy burned through his veins, raw and wild, twisting the air around him as he swung with everything he had. But Cordis caught his strike midair, gripping his wrist with iron force. You think rage will save you? The warlord growled and then, with a single movement, he drove Dane into the ground. The impact stole the breath from his lungs, sent shockwaves through his body. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision. Cordis loomed over him unimpressed. Come back when you are worth killing, he said, turning away. The fight was over and Dane had lost the road to strength.
Speaker 1:Dine barely remembered getting back to the ship. His entire body was one massive bruise, his ribs aching with every breath, his mind fractured with frustration, humiliation and something dangerously close to despair. He sat in silence in the medbay staring at his bandaged hands, his heart pounding with the echoes of Cordis's words you are weak, you are failing. He wanted to scream, he wanted to tear something apart, but there was no time because Evra walked in her expression unreadable, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe. We're going to my homeworld, she said. Dine blinked, surprised what she exhaled, running a hand through her hair. We need someone who can actually train you through her hair. We need someone who can actually train you, someone who's not going to kill you in the process. Dane frowned. Who? Evra's lips pressed into a tight line? A man who owes me a debt, she said. She didn't elaborate, she didn't need to, because the look in her eyes said everything. Because the look in her eyes said everything. Whoever this person was, whoever this warrior, this teacher was, they were the only chance Dayne had left.
Speaker 1:The Argent Wraith lifted from the surface of Iroth. Kai, leaving the Warlord's domain behind Dayne, sat in the observation deck, warlord's domain behind. Dain sat in the observation deck watching the world shrink into nothingness. He had survived barely. But this wasn't survival. This was running and he was done running as the ship jumped to light speed, heading toward a world he had never seen, toward a warrior he had never met. Dain made a silent promise to himself Next time when he stood before a warlord, when he faced the monsters waiting for him in the dark, when the veil whispered of fate and power and loss, he would not be the one left bleeding in the dirt. Dain has seen the truth of his weakness. Now he must become something greater or the galaxy will burn before he ever gets the chance to stop it. Join us every week as Into the Gray unfolds, where fate, power and destiny collide in a galaxy on the brink of war. Don't miss the next chapter. Secrets will be revealed, battles will be fought and the veil will never be the same.