The Void Warden's words hung in the crystallized air like a death sentence, but before Lyralei could respond, reality exploded into chaos around them. The tactical displays erupted with crimson warnings as sensors detected what should have been impossible—the main Harvester fleet had found her domain.
Not the scouts. Not the advance guard. The main fleet—seventeen thousand consciousness-extraction arrays accompanied by processing ships the size of small moons, all converging on the Seventh Fold with the inexorable hunger of cosmic locusts.
"How?" Lyralei breathed, her void-black eyes reflecting the approaching armada. Her domain's natural defenses should have made detection impossible. The reality-folds she'd woven, the dimensional camouflage, the probability distortions—all of it useless against whatever tracking method the Harvesters were now employing.
