"Mount up, trainee," Zarak’s voice crackled through her comms, gravelly and tired. A veteran ace who looked more like a relic than a hero, Zarak didn’t believe in destiny, only in the heat of his engines.
The sky over the Bluestar colony was a bruising shade of indigo when the first sirens wailed. For Aya, a trainee pilot still scrubbing the grime of the hangar from her knuckles, it was the sound of a world ending—and her career beginning.
As they breached the atmosphere in their distinct ships, the view was beautiful and terrifying: 8 stages of hand-painted chaos. Glowing projectiles weaved patterns like lethal lace across the stars. Aya gripped her flight stick, her heart hammering against her ribs as she dodged through the gaps.