What is a compass?" 

Kael asked, his voice tentative, carrying the weight of uncertainty.

"Chaos’s axis. A guide... to the fraying," the Oracle responded. Her fragmented voice resonating like discordant notes on a cosmic scale; each word warped and haunting, resonating beyond the boundaries of spoken language.

Kael’s brow furrowed, the cryptic response sparking frustration and intrigue in equal measure.

"Where do I find this... Compass?"

The Oracle’s towering form contorted; each movement a grotesque distortion of reality itself. 

The cavern trembled as though reacting to her shifting presence; the liquid walls rippled and pulsed, their reflective surfaces suddenly alive with images that clawed at Kael’s senses.

Images flashed on the shimmering walls: Sevarix Station.

A desolate orbital hub bathed in haunting crimson light, its corridors stained with blood; the imagery carried a suffocating weight, as though the station itself mourned the horrors within.

"In chaos... the axis is born," the Oracle intoned, her voice twisting into lower, guttural tones that vibrated through Kael’s chest.

"Seek the corridors of Sevarix... where betrayal dances and truths unravel. But..." she paused, her voice dropping further into shadow,

"... death walks beside you."

Kael froze, a chill running down his spine; the vague but ominous warning wove its way into his thoughts, pulling threads of fear he couldn’t untangle.

"What does that mean?" he managed, his voice trembling with the question.

The Oracle’s laughter fractured reality, fragments of mirth and agony colliding in the air like shards of shattered glass. The sound carried an unbearable dissonance, leaving the chamber vibrating with chaos.

"Beware... the mirror that walks, the friend that cuts, the truth that kills. Seek the Compass, thread-bearer... for it shall guide you to unraveling and beyond."

Kael attempted to form another question, but before he could speak, the Oracle’s grotesque form collapsed inward. Her spires folded into rippling crystalline waves, her eyes extinguishing in a cascading motion that pulled her into the void.

The cavern shook violently, the liquid walls rippling and shattering with a deafening intensity.

Kael turned instinctively, sprinting for the exit as the chamber imploded behind him; each step echoed loudly, drowning in the roar of destruction closing in around him.

Kael stumbled out of the cavern, gasping for air; but the air was unfamiliar, biting with a sharp chill he hadn’t felt before.

Instead of the alien terrain of Chalyth, he found himself standing in the streets of a different planet; a world teeming with movement and noise.

Kael’s eyes widened in astonishment, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just occurred. How could someone teleport me without a spacegate? he thought, the sheer impossibility of the situation adding another layer to his bewilderment.

But there was no time to linger. The crowd around him bustled with life, the chaos of the marketplace drawing Kael’s gaze toward its heart. The tangled energy of hurried voices and clashing colors carried the promise of answers; answers he desperately needed.

Steeling himself, Kael left the street and ventured into the nearby marketplace; his focus sharpening as he sought the thread that could guide him forward.

Information is essential, he thought grimly. To where I am; and how to plan from here.

*****

Kael took a deliberate sip of the steaming Coloqua. The faint bitterness of the hot concoction settling him in the present moment, even as his mind churned with restless thoughts. Each sip was a momentary reprieve, a fleeting sense of normalcy in the whirlwind of the past days.

The Archive. The Vision. The Escape. The Circle. The Oracle. 

Each memory lingered like a shadow, but none more so than the gnawing question: What about the answer to the torment that had consumed him for so long?

The whispers had ceased since Chalyth, yet the weight of the Oracle’s cryptic words pressed heavily on his mind, their echoes stretching far beyond the cavern.

His destination was clear; Sevarix Station. Yet, clarity didn’t ease the treacherous road ahead.

He glanced around Rongtar, the dimly lit outpost terminal he’d found himself in, little more than a battered waystation clinging to relevance.

Spacegates were a luxury this forgotten corner of the galaxy couldn’t afford; his only mode of travel happens to be a spaceship. 

But how? The thought tugged at him as the reality of his circumstances settled in.

Kael placed the Coloqua cup down on the rusted metal table, its surface wobbling slightly as it settled. The instability mirrored his own precarious situation—a man untethered, desperate for a path forward.

The café, if it could be called that, was as makeshift as the rest of the outpost.

Fading neon signs flickered half-heartedly, their sickly light barely illuminating the grimy walls. Above him, the faint buzz of exposed electrical wiring filled the air, lending an oppressive hum to the atmosphere.

Rongtar was not a place built for comfort or refuge. It was a waystation for travelers too desperate or weary to bypass it, a patchwork of neglect and survival stitched together in equal measure.

Nearby, a flight board flickered erratically, its glitched text listing the scant options for departure. 

Most of the scheduled vessels were local cargo freighters or barely functional passenger shuttles, their maintenance records almost certainly as questionable as the routes they promised to traverse.

Reaching Sevarix Station wasn’t going to be as simple as buying a ticket. 

No, it would take more than credits; it would take charm, deception, and, perhaps, a fair amount of luck.

Kael leaned back in his rickety chair, closing his eyes as he replayed the Oracle’s fragmented message in his mind. Her words echoed with an almost physical weight: "Chaos’s axis... the mirror that walks, the friend that cuts, the truth that kills."

Each syllable dug deeper, leaving an aftertaste of uncertainty and dread that even the Coloqua couldn’t wash away.

Opening his eyes, he scanned the desolate outpost once more. Makeshift stores lined the sparse streets like forgotten memories, their dimly lit interiors holding little promise.

The marketplace was absent here; just another reminder that Rongtar was a transit point, not a destination.

His fingers tapped idly on the rusting table, his mind running calculations. 

He needed a ship, a plan, and a chance. 

Preferably in that order. 

The thought left a sour smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Kael glanced at the ceiling; trying to formulate a plan; and slowly closed his eyes.

The faint crunch of boots against the rusted metal floor broke Kael's thoughts, pulling him back into the present. He opened his eyes just as a towering figure pulled up a chair uninvited, his hulking presence casting a shadow across the flickering terminal lights.

The man seated before him was Drexon Varc, a half-human hybrid with an imposing stature that commanded attention.

His rugged face bore the scars of countless battles, hints of a life straddling the line between law and chaos. His slate-gray skin, subtly textured and alien, seemed to absorb the faint glow of the café’s failing neon lights.

Cybernetic arms gleamed faintly under the dim lighting, their mechanical fingers tapping a rhythm on the table that echoed like a distant drumbeat; the precision in their movements betrayed a quiet menace.

A thick coat hung from his broad shoulders like a cape, patched with unfamiliar materials that spoke of distant worlds and harsher climates.

"You look like someone with a problem," Drexon said, his voice a deep rumble—gravelly yet calm, as though nothing in the universe could shake his poise.

"Lucky for you, I like solving problems."

Kael studied him cautiously, every muscle tense, ready for the worst.

Drexon’s piercing eyes seemed to strip him bare; one brown and the other glowing faintly orange from an implant, they carried an unsettling intensity; half analytical, half predatory.

His aura was layered with danger, tempered by a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

"And who might you be?" Kael asked warily, his tone sharp despite his unease.

Drexon leaned back in his chair, the metal creaking softly under his considerable weight; the slight sound emphasized his commanding presence.

"Captain Drexon Varc of the Iron Fang," he said smoothly, letting the words settle.

"Salvager, freelancer, and the best damn pilot you’ll find in this backwater dump. And you, my friend, look like you need a ride."

Kael narrowed his eyes, his posture stiffening defensively.

"And why would you think that?"

Drexon smirked, his sharp canines glinting faintly in the dim light; the gesture carried an edge of amusement that wasn’t entirely friendly.

"Because there’s only one reason someone ends up in Rongtar. Either you’re running from something, or you’re trying to get to someplace no one in their right mind would want to go. My guess? Sevarix."

Kael froze momentarily, trying to suppress his surprise as his fingers instinctively tightened around his coloqua cup.

"And if I am?"

Drexon chuckled; a gravelly sound that rumbled like distant thunder.

"Then you’ll need someone who knows how to get there without painting a target on your back," he said, his voice laced with calm certainty.

"Sevarix isn’t exactly a welcoming port for the unprepared. Drones, blockades, mercs looking to cash in on new arrivals; it’s a hellhole."

"Lucky for you, I happen to know all the cracks in that sector."

Kael leaned forward slightly, his mind racing.

"And what’s your price?"

Drexon’s smile widened, revealing teeth that gleamed like a predator’s.

"Let’s just say I’m not running a charity. You want my help, you better make it worth my while."

Kael hesitated, frustration swirling with uncertainty. He knew he had no credits, no collateral, and no leverage.

He locked eyes with Drexon, willing himself to push through the tension.

"Get me to Sevarix, and I’ll make sure you’re paid double what you’re worth."

Drexon raised an eyebrow, his amused expression teetering between disbelief and intrigue.

"Bold words for a man who looks like he can’t afford this coffee."

Kael’s resolve hardened, his voice sharper than intended.

"Do we have a deal or not?"

For a long moment, Drexon said nothing, his piercing gaze fixed on Kael as though weighing his very existence. Then, with deliberate movements, he stood, towering over the table.

"Dock C. One hour. Don’t be late."

Kael’s lips tightened.

"And if I don’t show?"

Drexon grinned, the expression predatory and devoid of warmth.

"Then you won’t survive long enough to regret it."

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his heavy boots echoing across the terminal floor with unnerving finality. 

A faint smile on his face; his quick actions proved useful. The moment he heard someone asking around for a ride to Sevarix; he smelled an opportunity; an opportunity to be rich.

Because the more dangerous the place; the more it hid treasures and what-not.

Kael watched Drexon’s broad figure disappear into the crowd, his mind racing to process what had just transpired. The man was dangerous; calculated and lethal; but Kael had no other options. The Oracle’s words resurfaced like an unshakable shadow: "Death walks beside you."

Kael drained the rest of his coloqua in one bitter gulp, grabbed his bag, and rose from his seat. 

The makeshift café seemed even dimmer now, as if the room itself anticipated the chaos to come.

Dock C awaited him, and with it, the journey to Sevarix; the axis of chaos, and perhaps, the answers he sought.

*****