The Drifts

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The moment Axle touched the medallion, it pulsed with light and floated midair. His HUD flared white, visions slamming into his head—a throne of fire, a shattered crown, stars aligning like prophecy. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

And then Slick whispered, “That thing just recognized you.”

Axle knew one thing for sure: this salvage run had just turned into a mistake the whole galaxy would feel.