The stonework where Nuun Gaalsien knelt was so ancient that its origins could not be traced in even the oldest Kharakid legends. Some thought it was a fragment of the First City, carved by the survivors of the Khar-Toba. Others believed that it was an altar that once belonged to a temple, dedicated to some long-dead deity. One of Nuun's long, spindly fingers traced over a glyph that was etched into the red stone; the same glyph had been rendered in a precious silver metal and stitched onto his long robe. The meanings of the symbols were known only to the leaders of his kiith, whose abodes were made here, on the high plateaus of the Great Banded Desert. He was drawing near to the end of his life, and would never know what the mysterious carvings meant, but he lived safe in the knowledge that he would die having made a great contribution to his kiith.

It was at this exact moment that a shockingly powerful terror stabbed into his heart. It was as though some powerful entity had driven a knife through his frail chest. Nuun turned his aged eyes skywards and felt his heart sink as he saw the bright flashes of explosions, even in the sunlight. Something was happening in orbit.

Something huge had arrived.

And it was not the mothership.

"Doom!" he said, first softly, then getting louder and louder as he shrieked it into the hollow expanses of the desert. A few acolytes heard his cry and peered out of their shelters to watch as Nuun threw his hands skywards. "Doom has come to Kharak! The cursed mothership has brought death upon us all!"

Then the first volley hit, and Nuun knew no more.

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