"The broken dawn draws ever closer. The eagle, deceived, lingers in the abyss and cannot return. The people here see no hope left in the Federation."
— Leon Anhar, Darkness at Dusk
The Fugaku-class heavy cruiser of the Security Fleet slowly docked at the primary berth of Morya VI Orbital Station. Cold white lights spilled across the cruiser's midnight-black hull, tracing the contours of its imposing silhouette. At the bow, a blood-red double-headed eagle—painted like a wound in the void—gleamed faintly on the curved metal surface, as if congealed blood were seeping from the body of the beast itself.
The Kagarde Autonomous Republic was formally incorporated into the Darius Federation in Neo-Stellar Era 085. As one of the Federation's earliest frontier territories, its people became known for their resilience, ferocity, and deep-rooted martial traditions. During the Federation's early interstellar campaigns, the Kagardans quickly distinguished themselves as the backbone of the Federal Navy, their innate combat instincts and austere military culture earning them a place at its core.
The double-headed eagle—an ancient symbol from the Federation's earliest history—was once a gleaming silver emblem of honor. Recast in the crimson hue of vengeance and sacrifice by the Kagardans, it has now become the defining mark of their fleet.
Zarik stepped forward slowly, each footfall echoing dully along the gangway that connected the heavy cruiser to the orbital station. The deep green of his former Federal Navy uniform had been replaced by the black of the Security Fleet; the silver double-headed eagle once pinned proudly to his collar was now dyed crimson.
The passage between cruiser and dock was no more than a hundred meters, yet to Zarik, it stretched like a bridge across centuries. His body moved forward, but his mind was already adrift—pulled back into memories he had never truly left behind.
It was half a month ago.
That day, the returning Gu Huo Niao-class shuttle slid once more across the icy runway. Fresh snow, thin but relentless, had already crept back over the tarmac that had just been cleared. The rumble of the engines grew louder, rising to a crescendo as the shuttle gradually lifted from the ground, climbing toward the cloud-veiled skies tens of thousands of meters above.
"Zarik."
General Kaelen Rysov's voice cut through the sound, grave and deliberate. He placed a dark wooden box before him, handed over solemnly by the officer standing at his side.
"You won't be going back this time."
Zarik looked up, confusion and uncertainty mingling on his face as he regarded the thin but still imposing figure of the older man before him. Silence filled the shuttle cabin, broken only by the low hum of engines and the faint whisper of snow brushing against the hull.
General Kaelen Rysov sighed deeply, then offered a faint, rueful smile. With deliberate care, he reached forward and slowly opened the dark wooden box.
The box opened, revealing a pair of red double-headed eagle collar insignias resting silently against a velvet lining. The dim cabin light danced upon their crimson metallic surface, as if blood itself were slowly flowing across the emblem. These were not the silver eagles of the Federation—but the blood-red eagle insignia unique to Kagarde's Security Fleet, a symbol of loyalty, sacrifice, and unbreakable oaths.
"Go to Kagarde," Kaelen said, his voice low but leaving no room for argument.
"It's close to T'Rohn. Only there will you find relative safety."
He paused, eyes shifting away from Zarik to the swirling snow beyond the window. "I've transferred you to the Kagarde Security Fleet. Zarik, we can't protect you forever within the Federation Navy. If you remain here, it won't even be a day before Military Intelligence comes knocking."
Zarik froze for a moment, his gaze lingering long on the blood-red insignias. Then he looked up, his voice cautious, probing.
"T'Rohn is practically a holy land for the Synai nationalists. Putting me that close… aren't you afraid I'll go even further?"
Kaelen didn't answer right away. He closed his eyes, as though trying to escape the truth etched behind Zarik's words. When he opened them again, his stare was resolute, his voice weighed with a rare honesty.
"What choice do I have?" he said quietly.
"No matter how much disappointment you carry in your heart for this Federation, you're still my student—the officer I raised with my own hands. Even if you've started to drift, I refuse to watch you be pushed off a cliff by those politicians and the intelligence dogs."
He reached out, gently pushing the twin blood-eagle insignias toward Zarik.
"This is all the protection I can offer now."
"Zarik, I hope that even when you throw yourself into Kagarde's nationalist cause, you won't entirely forget this Federation. You were once its pride—one of the brightest eagles ever to come out of the Naval Academy. You need to think more carefully—about your future, and about the future of the Federation."
He paused, his expression growing increasingly grave. After a moment of heavy silence, he lowered his voice, speaking with a seriousness unlike any he had shown before:
"I'm going to tell you something classified. Just listen—no recordings."
Zarik gave a small nod, his expression instantly solemn.
Kaelen leaned in slightly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade of winter wind:
"You mid-level officers were never told the truth—years ago, we dispatched a pioneering fleet from the Federation's northwestern frontier. An entire fleet. It went completely silent last year. Not a single signal has returned. It wasn't a miscalculation or technical failure. We believe it was wiped out—swiftly and utterly."
"The Operations Bureau of the Ministry of Defense has concluded this: somewhere in the deep space not far beyond our borders, there likely exists a power—perhaps even a nation."
Zarik's pupils contracted ever so slightly.
Kaelen continued, his tone unwavering:
"This matter has been classified top secret. Even the Federal Parliament only knows fragments. And now, as this Federation begins to tear itself apart from within..."
"I understand your anger—your reasons for leaning toward nationalism. But think, Zarik—when you tear the eagle's wings, what happens to the fledglings not yet hatched? When danger rises like a silent tide, what will become of these star systems we call home… if there is no unified Federation left to protect them?"
"Zarik."
Kaelen fixed his gaze on his student, every word delivered with the weight of command and the sear of conviction. His eyes burned like flame—unyielding and intense.
"Don't let hatred be the only thing left in your eyes. Try—try to think about how to protect the Federation… and our future."
"You're still a soldier of the Federation."
Zarik turned his eyes to the window.
The shuttle had long since pierced through the clouds, now flying steadily in the upper atmosphere, heading toward the cruiser in satellite orbit. Beneath the wing, the cloud layer glowed a pale white—no different from the snowfields below. It looked calm. Like paper.
But he knew—beneath that serene shell, all was not quiet.
A blizzard raged below, like a storm of fury unleashed, swallowing every inch of the planet's surface. And that thin veil of cloud was merely a mask—a fragile shell stretched over a land already drowned in chaos.
"I'll think about it," he finally said, his voice calm yet resolute.
"I love my people—but not every Synai is a madman who would endanger the Federation."
Then, his tone shifted.
"Likewise, as long as Darius fails to grant us true equality, we will not compromise. We will not accept commands forced upon us by the Federal Assembly in the name of so-called 'unity.'"
As he spoke, his gaze drifted away from the window and settled on the crimson twin-eagle insignias resting in his palm. His thumb moved slowly over the engraved metal, as though tracing the shape of an unwritten fate.
Under the dim amber light of the cabin, the blood-red metal shimmered faintly, like congealed blood, catching the eye with its cold sheen. And in his own eyes, a shadow surfaced—faint yet unmistakable: confusion, burden, and a flicker of something deeper. Perhaps doubt. Perhaps the silent question one asks of destiny itself.
"I only hope that one day, atop the Parliament Dome of Solivane, the flags of Darius and Sinai might fly side by side."
His voice was calm, almost gentle.
"Sinai and Darius have both given generations of blood and belief to this Federation. But today, our children are still forced to grow up under unjust conditions. If fairness itself is beyond our reach—then tell me, what part of this Federation is still worthy of Sinai's loyalty, of our faith?"
General Kaelen said nothing.
His eyes lingered on Zarik's pale, sincere face—those eyes burning with a quiet intensity.
It was not the recklessness of youth, nor the rage of rebellion.It was the fire of belief—unyielding, unshakable.
A faith that had not yet broken.A conviction that, even in the shadows of a crumbling Federation, still dared to speak of hope.
The shuttle gradually decelerated. Outside the viewing port, a sleek, obsidian silhouette hovered silently in the starlight—the Longbow-class light cruiser, its hull marked with the same blood-red double-headed eagle. Its wings spread like blades, its gaze sharp as flame. Slowly, the identification lights along the stern flickered to life, casting faint halos across the black armor, and the hangar bay doors began to open with measured precision.
The Longbow was preparing to receive its new passenger—just as Kagarde, too, opened its arms in silence. A land of unrest. Of danger. But for Zarik, it was the only place left where he could truly stand his ground.
As the shuttle descended like a falling star into the cruiser's belly, the light within the cabin dimmed, and for one brief, breathless moment, it felt as though the world had dropped from sky into the deepest trench of night.