"Hello? Is anyone there?" Liara's voice resonated through the temple. But the vast, cold space of the temple only returned her call with echoes.
Javik shifted uneasily, reading the environment, a sense of foreboding climbing within him. "Something is wrong. Your scientists should be here."
Through the scope of her weapon, Shepard's sharp eyes darted from shadow to shadow, only pausing to admire the ancient religious artifacts reverently displayed throughout. "Take a look around. Maybe one of these artifacts is what we're looking for."
As she maneuvered past the rows of pews and reached the central altar, a grim sight met her eyes: two lifeless forms in scientist uniforms. Her voice lowered, tinged with anger, "I believe we've found the scientists."
Javik knelt by the bodies, his fingers brushing lightly against one of the wounds. "Their throats…"
"What's the cause?" Shepard inquired.
"They've been slit," Liara's voice was a whisper, her face pale. "This isn't Reaper handiwork. We're on our own deciphering this."
Javik's nostrils flared, his eyes scanning their surroundings. "There is something here… I can sense it."
Liara looked around, trying to understand what the Prothean was sensing. "In this temple? I admit it is strange this place has been so well-preserved. Though Athame does have great historical significance. We once believed our gods were separate from the world, looking down on–"
Shepard's boots clicked softly on the worn stone as she approached the central altar, overshadowed by the imposing statue of Athame. Athame was an old faith, she had once read. In recent times, asari worship had turned to the siari religion, but influences still ran deep. When an asari said "by the goddess," they referred to Athame.
An inexplicable pull tugged at Shepard's senses, almost magnetic, emanating from the statue. She hesitated for a moment before extending a hand above the altar. The pull intensified. Memories surged back.
Liara's voice brought her back. "-but now asari see everything as a cosmic whole. There is a universal energy from which all living things are formed."
Shepard pivoted, understanding what Javik had sensed. "There's a Prothean beacon here."
Liara's eyes widened. "What? You're sure?"
"It's not something you forget."
"But why hide it?"
"The answer is obvious." Javik's tone was clipped and authoritative. "Power and influence. Your people are hoarding the knowledge of my race for their own gain."
"That… can't be. I can't believe my people would keep this a secret."
Shepard raised an eyebrow, surprised by the naivety of Liara's statement. Such a sentiment would be laughed at among human circles. Still, she was reminded of something Arius had told her, how he, too, had once taken humanity's modus operandi for granted. The asari represented many things that historical humanity was not - while deception and competition were as natural to humans as breathing, asari's value system was built on much of the opposite. "A beacon like this could explain why the asari are so advanced."
"This temple is thousands of years old," Javik added, "Enough time to make serious progress."
"That doesn't make it true," Liara defiantly shot back.
Their debates were cut short by the rapid scans of Liara's omni-tool. "The few records I can access talk about tapping into Prothean data streams, reconstructing matrices… none of which I see here."
Javik squinted his eyes over one of the artifacts, a mural painted on what was once a rock wall, sensing something. "I do." As he touched it, a radiant beam shot towards the towering statue of Athame. The statue hummed to life, its insides illuminating.
"By the goddess… literally."
A thought crystallized in Shepard's mind – these artifacts were the key. Swiftly, she found another mural on the opposite side of the statue. In the ancient painting, three asari holding various tools were depicted in a planted field lush with vegetation, and behind them, a flock of birds in flight. The three asari faced a much larger figure, which pointed towards them as if bestowing instruction. Though wearing simple robes, the towering figure's form was unmistakably Prothean. Her touch sent another beam streaking towards the central statue.
Liara whispered, "It sees you as one of them – it must be the Cipher you acquired on Feros. Keep searching."
By the entrance, regal artifacts caught Shepard's eye – a beautiful and very old ceremonial shield and sword. "What significance do these hold?"
"Symbols of Athame's might. Legends speak of her defending Thessia from envious gods."
A shared glance between Shepard and Javik spoke of shared realizations – the mythic and the real often intertwined.
When Shepard touched the final artifact, the last activation beam shot toward the statue. The statue fractured, revealing beneath it a Prothean beacon.
.
Arius stood, scanning the horizon for the onslaught of Reaper forces marching toward the temple of Athame. His eyes surveyed the scene - Banshees wailing their terrifying song, Brutes pounding the ground in their approach, and Marauders, Ravagers, and Cannibals spreading chaos. Running scenarios in his head, he analyzed the battlefield: A long inclined corridor led to the entrance where he stood. This was good defensively but liable to overwhelm him if several heavy hitters appeared. It was better to meet them head-on while they walked across a field with more space and then make a tactical retreat up the corridor should he need.
Arius breathed deeply, his stance firm and grounded, the air around him subtly charged with unseen power, an echo of his ancient, nearly forgotten race. His muscles tensed with anticipation, readying the full extent of their inherited and augmented abilities.
His fingers wrapped around the grip of the artifact, the one constant companion in his long life, its purpose and origin as inscrutable as ever. Its weight, though meagre in his arms, bore the might of legends, reshaping destinies with a mere thought. But what was its true nature? The relic itself was impartial, much like a blank canvas awaiting the brushstrokes of an artist. Had the stories he had heard of its bloody past coloured his own preconceptions of its use? He often wondered if it was a weapon or had it, like a simple tool, revealed his inner desires, manifesting his own will, his needs, and his wishes. It had brought him power and victory in battles he'd once deemed insurmountable, but had he trapped himself in its cycle of bloodshed, unable to see it as anything more than a means to a violent end, same as the work of his life?
Standing amidst the eve of genocide, Arius's musing ceased. The time for supposition had vanished; he had sealed his fate with the artifact long ago. Closing his eyes, he plumbed the depths of its subtle, ethereal reach: The close despair of the asari and the far-off whirlpool of the damned towering above him. But from the Reaper forces, nothing but hollowed-out heads filled with pain.
He opened his eyes, silently asking it to lend him its strength again, to join him once more in the fray.
In a dash, Arius surged towards his quarry, flying down the incline with blistering speed, bypassing all incoming fire. The first in his path was a Ravager, its sacs pulsating with a foul, sickening rhythm. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, unleashing the ancient blade. It cleaved through the air with an imperceptible ring, dividing the Ravager effortlessly with a precise swing.
A Banshee, spectral and haunting, phased towards him, its scream piercing the air. Bursting in front of him in a shower of biotic discharge, the Banshee lunged, its extended, razor-sharp claws aiming to skewer him. In one fluid motion, Arius activated an omni-shield on his left arm, parrying its strike and retaliated with a swift swipe of his sword, severing its arm amidst a screeching wail. Two Cannibals took advantage of his distraction, aiming their weapons. But before they could release their shots, Arius darted and swung his artifact, cutting through them in a blur of speed.
The form of a Brute materialized from the haze, charging with an unbridled rage. Arius met its verve, dodging then piercing its armoured carapace with a ferocious thrust, withdrawing it only after the life was extinguished from the beast's eyes. Marauders assailed him with a barrage of gunfire, his omni-shield dazzlingly refracting their offensive onslaught as he twisted and spiralled through the bullets, making his way toward them and silencing their offences.
But the numbers were many. The ground trembled beneath the weight of a pack of Brute's approaching. They thrashed the ground and charged him in tandem, and Arius could not dodge their combined, wide offensive wall. His omni-shield began to crack, then shattered from the repeated strikes from creatures' might, and the kinetic release shook the reinforced bones up his arm. His defensive option so soon compromised, Arius dashed and struck back with the sharp, jagged edge of the broken shield, ripping through the backside of one before it could turn, rebuffing another and parrying their grasping claws before they could reach for him.
When they converged upon him again, he readied the artifact to affront them and willed a sonic burst into existence, remembering to unclench his jaw, or his teeth would have shattered in his mouth. The sword gave out a short, shrill pulse in his hands that radiated outwards into the air, producing a shockwave that the monsters recoiled from in disorientation. Seizing the moment, Arius discarded the broken shield, lept and slammed the artifact down and through one of the Brutes, releasing its essence. Another Brute, perhaps thinking with its rudimentary mind that his blade required inertial momentum to be effective, amputated its own arm as it tried grasping it from him. The other arm was removed a second later as Arius returned the swing and then had its head severed as he swung again.
The bridge - the easy way in for the Reaper forces - had to be destroyed. Planting his feet firmly, he sunk the sword into the bridge's material with a downward thrust. Another thought, a command of entropy, and a vibration began to emanate from the blade, piercing the air with a sharp ringing sound. Cracks began to spiderweb outward from it as the ringing grew in intensity, slowly at first, then quicker as the loud crackling of splitting material grew. The very foundations of the structure began shaking under his feet, its resonant frequency being matched by the vibrating artifact. Once a critical state had been reached, Arius withdrew the sword and struck down hard. As if it had been held under pressure, the entire bridge from end-to-end exploded in a brilliant display of released energy, filling the surrounding air with fine particulates and sending a cascade of rubble plummeting below, taking a portion of the ground Reaper forces. A little more time was bought.
A pair of Harvesters dive-bombed him from the air, raining down fire on his terrestrial form. The destructive force dissipated into the surroundings, and through the mist of debris, Arius held the sword aloft, its broader side deflecting the hail of incoming projectiles. Finding a moment of brief respite from the fire as the flying forms regained altitude, he stabbed the sword into the ground to save weight, ran up the sloping adjacent wall and launched himself off with all the strength his legs could provide. It was a great leap, propelling him through the air in an arc far greater than his enemy had anticipated. He collided with one of the flying creatures mid-air and grappled its neck while he unholstered his pistol with his free arm and fired at the second's wings that flew alongside it, downing it. Thrashing and over-encumbered with too much weight, the grappled Harvester he held fell to the ground in a shower of rock. Arius grabbed the long knife from his belt and plunged it through its elongated neck, severing it. He dashed over the second, dodging its grounded attacks and delivering an overcharged, full-bodied strike that knocked it into torpor before it could strike. He caught its head and twisted it with his might, breaking it. His frame strained under his overexertions, but within moments, the rips in his body knitted themselves together.
More troops were dropped off, and the surrounding Reaper forces, knowing something was amiss in this sector, began to gather to the temples' path. The screech of a detachment of husks echoed, their too-agile yet broken forms running toward him in a wave of bones and empty eyes. Grabbing the artifact he had left in the rock, Arius met them with the heat of a dying star, his strikes a maelstrom of fury as he carved through them, the memories of his forebears lending strength to every motion. Heads were lopped from shoulders, black blood and twisted wire splattered over the fields. They bit and clawed, their marks finding him, but the power of his heat continued to course through, bringing him back from the sundering forces. The ground grew slick. With a roar of defiance, he lunged at a Brute, dodging its massive claws and sinking his artifact deep into its side. A sonic burst erupted the beast's guts, exploding its organs in wide arcs over the battlefield. His bones shook but held.
As the beast collapsed into goo, Arius barely had time to catch his breath as more Ravager's shots rained down on him from a height he could not hope to leap. Another aspect of his will awakened within the relic: with a sweeping, two-handed swing of enormous physical effort, he pulled at the fabric of space as if it were a cloth, rippling it in a wave that expanded outwards from its source. Though he swung far from the Ravager bodies, their flesh, surrounding air, and the empty buildings behind them were parted by an impossibly thin bisecting line along the plane of his swing. Bodies, no longer as one, plummeted out of the sky. At the same time, the upper portions of the buildings along the bisected plane started to glide away from their bases, ultimately crumbling in a tumultuous cascade of wreckage. Some Reaper forces, unable to crawl away in time from the collapse, were flattened outright by the collapse.
Although still clutched tightly in his hands, Arius allowed the artifact to gently make contact with the ground as he gasped for breath. The exertion of his last swing had been monumentally taxing.
Noting their adversary's weariness, the remaining Reaper forces unleashed a synchronized assault. The horde converged in unison like a storm on the horizon. Though he spun, slicing down those who strayed close, the chilling wails of a Banshee, accompanied by overwhelming biotic force, lifted and pushed Arius directly into the looming grasp of a Brute. Seizing its target with unyielding might and lifting it above its head triumphantly, its colossal claw compressed, shattering both Arius' armour and body in its relentless grip. His pained grasp loosened, dropping the sword onto the viscera-soaked ground.
Arius let out a scream, first from blinding suffering and then from fury at the incessant, inexorable horde. The prolonged adrenaline surge, the strain on his muscles, and the extreme stress he was under had accelerated his body's energy consumption to superlative levels. Answering the demand, his metabolism roared into high gear, converting every stored reserve to fuel, igniting energy at a rate seldom seen. Though damaged, his limbs pulsed with potent might, each cell humming in unnatural vigour. The very atmosphere around him crackled, alive. Though Arius had long abandoned that singular pursuit of strength and victory at any cost, the reverberations of that long journey still could be felt, and the age-old, impatient, burning need to bend his enemies utterly flared to life.
Arius seized the Brute's head with both hands outstretched, dug his fingers into the bone and metal of its skull and, with a roar, wretched it apart in a shower of gore. Decapitated, the Brute's lifeless body fell into the dust. Arius fell to the floor while still in its clutches and, with great effort, pried himself from the immense grip of the creature. He vomited blood into his helmet, unable to move; while his body rushed to repair itself rapidly, the regeneration process was not pain-free. Fibres from torn flesh reconnected, capillaries restored their intricate networks, and broken bones exuded their cementing substance to bridge gaps. On the verge of falling unconscious, he willed himself upwards and staggered to his feet. Casting aside his encumbering helmet, he lunged at the nearest Banshee, his burgeoning might dampening its immense biotic surges and tackled it to the ground. As it writhed and shrieked with a deafening cry under him, he seized its protruding lower jaw and ripped it free with raw strength. Balling his hands together into a singular, devastating fist above him, he plunged it downwards, obliterating its mutilated skull.
An orange sac from a nearby Ravager ruptured, and a corrosive acid sprayed onto Arius' armoured left shoulder and the side of his unhelmeted, exposed face. The caustic liquid hissed as it ate away at the remnants of his armour and scorched his exposed skin down to his skull, blinding his left eye and exposing his teeth. Pain ignited into fury, propelling Arius forward in a vengeful lunge at the monstrous creature, bringing it down off its insectoid legs with sheer force. Seizing one of its grafted twin cannons, he gave a fierce shout, ripping it free, then impaled the creature with it like a spear. Swarmers poured out from its bursting sacs, but he crushed them underfoot, undeterred by the acid that eroded his boots.
Riding the high of annihilation, he ripped into the horde with burning fervour, his grasping hands finding corrupted forms and breaking them under a soulless visage. Bodies were thrown to the ground and crushed underfoot, ripped in two, or their spines or necks violently snapped underhand. The carnage only fueled the invincible feelings of physical domination, and he grew blind to the pain, eventually ignoring the worthless husks and turning his head skywards towards the real enemy: the Reaper towering above the skyline. The jackhammer beat of his heart felt like an engine incessant, and he raced towards the artifact, grabbing it with hands stained in battle, raising its point toward the Reaper above him in audacious daring. He was ready to rage his will into existence, to find where its tendrils touched the sacred ground, scale its towering form, forcibly hack his way into the interior of the leviathan's body and sever its monstrous beating heart with his own hands.
He would have when a screech jolted him from his tunnelling vision. While his focus had turned to the distant behemoth, the horde had slipped past him to climb the steps to the temple. The need to protect pulled at his heart, stoking fear of loss that overrode his want to destroy.
He dashed up the inclined passage in a fierce urgency and a blur of swirling dust, outpacing the advancing forces. With fluid movements, he whirled, striking and decimating enemy and surroundings, his swings effortlessly severing limbs from torsos, twisted muscle from bone, and snuffing out the grotesque semblance of life from the contorted forms. His rampage, prolonged and taxing, continued in a blur until he was back at the entrance, having slain everything in his path. Blood and viscera clung to him, his chest heaving and mind reeling as he gasped for the breath needed to sustain his frenzied metabolism. Pausing, he was suddenly aware of a deadly hunger, a pit at the center of him that threatened to swallow him up. His bodily energy stores had depleted, and his suit was damaged beyond all function. While he grappled with the sudden, nauseating desire to eat, he observed that looming behind him was another vast horde of the undead, tireless in their pursuit.
His gaze dropped to the artifact in his hand, recalling a last desperate strategy. The last time he had used it on Thessia, he had been encased in a heavily armoured, mechanized combat suit that could withstand the abuse. He had no such protection now, but he didn't have a choice.
Arius grasped the Aegis of Antiquity once more and swung it with thoughts of heat in his head, the compressed, hot, vibrating molecules with too much energy at a star's center. The black metal of the blade grew white from heat in a blink. The extreme temperature generated caused everything flammable around the blade to ignite—atmospheric dust, combustible vapours, and even the air. It had to be no more than a flare, and true to his intent, the burst lasted for a flicker. From the swing, a dazzling shockwave of superheated gasses travelling at the speed of sound flashed down the corridor and across the battlefield, instantly turning it into a blazing inferno. Those caught in the immediate, flattening surge were killed from the intense, sudden heat, their bodies succumbing to fulminant shock. Flesh flash boiled and vaporized. The materials in their bodies contracted rapidly, fracturing bones, teeth and flexible metal. The buildings standing in the way exploded from the pressure differential, filling the entire area with additional shrapnel.
As the advancing Reaper forces utterly disintegrated in the blast, Arius could do nothing but brace himself for the immediate aftershock, inevitable and inescapable. The atmospheric vacuum from the rapidly expanding air rebounded and dragged him through a hurricane of debris and embers. His body, though resilient, screamed in agony as he tumbled, a shooting star fallen from grace.
.
Starting awake, Arius blinked his dry, ash-filled eyes. Above him, more Reaper capital ships were descending, extinguishing the last remnants of asari resistance. It was clear that Thessia had fallen, a devastating reality that threatened to bring tears to his eyes if he had any water to spare in his desiccated body.
He still clutched the artifact in one of his hands, its soot-covered form partially glowing with residual heat, and he used it as a crutch to pull himself up from under the debris. As he did so, his parched throat gave a weak cry - the first sensation that hit him was the searing pain, followed by an overwhelming hunger that seemed to blot every thought.
Forms appeared around him with mouths moving and expressions of concern, but he couldn't hear them - the blast had ruptured his eardrums. Within a mental haze, he was vaguely aware that he had entered a Kodiak shuttle, and he glanced down, noticing the charred remnants of armour with large parts missing. His exposed skin was a painful shade of red, covered in heat blisters and deeper burns. His armour hung loose on his thinned frame, the hollows of his face deep from the swift, cannibalizing repair his body had undergone. Struggling to breathe and heaving from nausea, he faintly realized that he was undergoing shock.
Oblivious to all else, Arius fumbled for a storage compartment within the shuttle with shaking hands, finding a mechanized syringe and a large vial of concentrated sugars and nutrients - a cocktail of much-needed resources. A moment later, the needle pierced what remained of the skin on his scorched neck. The liquid rapidly entered his bloodstream, and as the vial slowly emptied, Arius could feel his sickness gradually receding. The searing pain decreased at the edges, a tide pulling back, and with each heartbeat, a modicum of strength coursed through his ravaged body. In his somewhat improved mental state, Arius managed to open one of the shuttle's lower compartments. Inside, he found a stack of calorie-dense nutritional MREs along with water rations. He eagerly tore into them, devouring them as if his life depended on it, even as the skin around his face painfully bled and cracked from the movements.
Eventually, he regained enough mental and physical clarity to look at his companions. What he saw in their expressions weighed heavy on his heart: all three looked profoundly dejected. Shepard shook her head, her disappointment too deep for words. Even if he could speak, Arius remained silent, continuing to eat as they sat in sombre silence during the journey back to the Normandy.
By the time they had returned, Arius could feel the burns on his skin gradually abate, and his hearing had slowly returned. As Shepard maneuvered to assist Arius to the med bay, EDI's voice resonated with urgency overhead, "Commander, Councillor Tevos has sent an urgent message." She quickly added, "Asari forces are retreating. This system is no longer safe for us."
Arius could see the tension set in Shepard's jaw, her eyes growing steely. Surprisingly, it was Javik who insisted on taking her place to get him to the med bay while she dealt with the fallout. Although the Prothean seethed over the events in the Temple, there was something of a newfound understanding in his four eyes.
"The asari harboured a beacon from the days of their uplifting," the Prothean explained as he assisted Arius' weak steps, filling him in on the events he had missed, "The temple was constructed around this beacon to shield its secrets. Within, a VI of our people named Vendetta waited. While we were within the temple, it unveiled the truth: the Crucible was not solely our creation but the culmination of countless cycles before us. We were on the brink of understanding the Catalyst's role when our mission was thwarted. Cerberus and that indoctrinated betrayer, Kai Leng, ensured the beacon's knowledge was stolen from our grasp. We could not stop him."
"I appreciate your continued dedication to our cause, Javik," Arius rasped, having just recovered enough to speak. "I know this era is not as you envisioned it would be when you awoke."
Javik looked sternly back at him, "As I pronounced to Vendetta, despite my initial doubts, this cycle has proven its worth." The Prothean helped him down onto the medical bed. "You remain unbroken, Peregrinator. Do not doubt my resolve."
The Prothean pivoted to depart. "I leave the Peregrinator in your ministration," Javik apprised Dr. Chakwas as he exited the medical bay.
Dr. Chakwas, with her gentle yet subtly stern expression, raised an eyebrow at Javik's retreating form before focusing on her patient.
"Well, it seems Javik has found a certain degree of respect for you, Arius," she began, her hands deftly starting to work on stabilizing him, her gaze steady and sure. "But let's put aside the pleasantries and focus on ensuring you live to continue earning that respect, shall we?"
Arius, despite the pain, managed a weak but sincere smile.
.
Shepard came down not much later. Arius had recovered a good deal by then; Chakwas had been pumping him intravenously with parenteral nutrition solutions meant for krogan. The uptake was rapid, as was his recovery, though a ravenous pit in his stomach remained.
"Karin, can I get a moment?" Shepard's voice was steady, but Arius could sense the underlying turbulence of emotion beneath her controlled demeanour. Chakwas, recognizing the silent plea, nodded, leaving the two alone in the med bay.
Shepard's eyes met Arius's, a complicated mixture of relief, concern, and weariness evident. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her hand finding his and squeezing it tightly.
"You had me worried back there," she began, her voice softer than usual, the hard edge of the Commander momentarily absent.
Arius chuckled weakly. "I'm not so easy to get rid of."
She shook her head, a mixture of disappointment and frustration. Her call with the asari councillor telling her of their failure while Reapers laid waste to their civilization just now had been the worst in her entire career. "You almost died for us, and it was all for nothing."
"No, it's not in vain," he responded, giving her hand a reassuring, though weak squeeze. "We may not have the data now, but that doesn't mean it's lost forever. This is still a better scenario than us never finding it in the first place. Plus, Cerberus needs the Crucible hardware we built - they'll seek us out in due time."
Shepard sighed, her posture slumping a bit. "I just wish I had a clear path, a definite plan."
Arius smirked despite his aches. "When have we ever had a clear path?"
Shepard smiled faintly, nodding. "You always know what to say, don't you?" With that, she gave his hand one last squeeze before rising. "I would kiss you, but you're still covered in god knows what. Get some rest," she told him, moving to leave. "Come find me when you're out of here."
He watched Shepard leave the medical bay. Dr. Chakwas returned, prepping another dose of nutrients. "Get some sleep, Arius. I have a feeling the battles ahead are going to be just as unforgiving. And don't make it a habit to get yourself burnt to a crisp; my med supplies are not infinite."
Arius affirmed with an assenting grunt, feeling the calming effect of the drugs Chakwas had administered. There was a gentle tug at the edges of his consciousness, the comforting pull of impending sleep. And given his exhaustion, it wasn't surprising that he was on the brink of succumbing to it. But even as his physical world started to fade, his mind was far from at peace. Vivid images consumed his thoughts. They were of destruction and chaos – billowing smoke plumes obscuring the once clear skies, the explosive sound of the capital ships, and the roaring flames that consumed the temple.
He dreamt he was back at the temple entrance, Shepard, Javik and Liara by his side, only this time, they were met by countless asari, all of them standing still, their eyes hollow, accusing. Then, as the Reapers loomed overhead, casting a shadow that blotted out the stars, their eerie cries echoed through the night. In a macabre choir, one after another, the asari began to strike their heads against the walls, mutilating themselves, each impact resonating with a chilling, dreadful, wet thud.
He bolted upright, sweat dripping down his brow, heart pounding in his chest. The darkness of the med bay seemed to envelop him, amplifying his feeling of isolation. After a few moments, the activated lights softly illuminated the room, casting eerie shadows that danced and played on the walls.
It took a few minutes for Arius to calm himself, his breathing still laboured. Feeling a sudden urge to escape the confines of the med bay, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and gingerly stood up, testing his body's response. Though still sore, he felt a lot steadier than before.
As he navigated through the Normandy's dimly lit corridors, he heard hushed conversations of crew members discussing the losses on Thessia and debating their next steps. Everyone was on edge, aware that with each day, the Reapers gained more ground, bringing them closer to a galaxy plunged into darkness.