Whispers of a Golden Age
The Blade of the Horizon, the only ship ever to survive and win the dreaded Nebula Reaver Run, lay half-submerged in a silent swamp, its radiant hull dulled to a bruised, battered sheen.
Thick fog curled around its fins like ghosts mourning a fallen champion, muffling the hiss of cooling metal and the distant croak of unseen creatures.
In its prime, the ship had carved through asteroid storms and enemy fire with effortless grace, cheered by worlds that believed it invincible.
Now, tangled in vines and sinking inch by inch into the murky depths, it seemed to exhale its former glory into the mist, as if the swamp itself had claimed the last breath of a legend.
Whispers of a Golden Age
The Blade of the Horizon, the only ship ever to survive and win the dreaded Nebula Reaver Run, lay half-submerged in a silent swamp, its radiant hull dulled to a bruised, battered sheen.
Thick fog curled around its fins like ghosts mourning a fallen champion, muffling the hiss of cooling metal and the distant croak of unseen creatures.
In its prime, the ship had carved through asteroid storms and enemy fire with effortless grace, cheered by worlds that believed it invincible.
Now, tangled in vines and sinking inch by inch into the murky depths, it seemed to exhale its former glory into the mist, as if the swamp itself had claimed the last breath of a legend.