Forgotten Survivors

When the rift consumed Velmara, the world vanished from existence. Cities, oceans, and the countless billions who lived there were erased, swallowed by the very weapon meant to save them, but not all were lost.

In the final moments before the planet's destruction, a fleet of ships a fractured alliance of Camalan warlords, Velmaran rebels, and exiled scholars escaped into the void.

They were the last of Velmara, a people without a home, drifting through the ruins of their shattered world. For generations, they wandered the stars, clinging to survival, hiding from the remnants of the Xa’Theri, who still hunted them, desperate to erase the last traces of a species that had defied them. They lived in the shadows, in forgotten corners of the cosmos, waiting, watching until the day they could rise again.

Among the survivors, three dominant factions emerged, each with a different vision of what Velmara had been and what it should become.

1. The Sons of Camala

Led by Commander Vael-Zorr, this faction believed that Velmara had been a necessary sacrifice. They sought to rebuild the Camalan Empire, to reclaim their former power and ensure that no species ever again dared to challenge their dominion.

They sought war.They sought vengeance.

To them, the Xa’Theri were not gods, but an enemy unfinished.

2. The Keepers of the Verdant Moon

Descendants of the Velmaran resistance, these survivors rejected the Camalan hunger for conquest. They believed Velmara had perished because it had strayed from its roots, because it had forsaken the harmony of its past.

They became wanderers, seeking a new world where they could live as their ancestors had, a world untouched by war and cosmic ambition, but the universe was not kind to idealists.

3. The Black Apostles

The most feared faction of all.

These were the followers of Peygous, the ones who believed that his final prophecy had not yet been fulfilled. They believed that Velmara’s destruction was only the beginning, that the rift had not ended their people but transformed them.

They whispered that Peygous still lived not in flesh, but in the void itself, waiting to return.

And when he did, they would burn the universe to ash in his name.

For centuries, the survivors remained hidden, scattered across distant systems, avoiding the Xa’Theri, watching the wars of the greater galactic empires unfold, and then, the sightings began. At first, it was nothing rumors in the outer colonies, ships vanishing without explanation, cryptic transmissions filled with Velmaran glyphs.

Then, entire planets went dark.

The Xa’Theri, once thought invincible, were being hunted by something new, something that should not exist. Something born from the rift that had consumed Velmara.

In the distant Nebula of Akrion, a fleet appeared ships of black obsidian, their hulls bearing the mark of Velmara, but changed, altered by energies unknown.

They were not Camalan.They were not Velmaran, they were something else.

Their leader was known only as The Riftborn, a being whose existence defied the laws of time and matter. He claimed to be the first and last king of Velmara, reborn in the void, carrying the knowledge of a thousand lost worlds.

And he had come to reclaim what was stolen.

The universe had long forgotten Velmara, but now, it could not ignore them.

The Riftborn and his fleet struck with unnatural precision, their ships slipping through the fabric of space itself, bypassing defenses, appearing where no fleet should be able to travel.

The Xa’Theri, once unstoppable, found themselves outmatched.

Across the galaxies, rumors spread that Peygous had returned, that Velmara had never truly died. That the gods of the past were now the masters of the future.

The great empires of the universe watched in horror as the survivors of a forgotten world turned the tide against an ancient evil but the Riftborn’s war was not one of salvation.

It was one of vengeance, And vengeance does not end in peace.

As the Riftborn’s forces carved their way across the galaxy, the survivors of Velmara faced a choice. Would they follow him into darkness, becoming the very thing that had once destroyed them? Or would they break the cycle, forging a new path, one not built on war, but on something greater? The Sons of Camala, eager for conquest, swore their loyalty to the Riftborn, believing he would lead them to glory beyond reckoning.

The Keepers of the Verdant Moon, horrified by what their people had become, sought to stop him, believing that Velmara’s greatest mistake was allowing war to consume

it once before.

The Black Apostles, however, believed something else entirely, they knew the truth.

The Riftborn was not Peygous, but something far worse, something that had been waiting in the void since the dawn of time itself, and now, it was free.

The galaxy braced for the end. The Riftborn, the last king of a forgotten world, stood on the bridge of his flagship, watching as his forces prepared for the final assault.

The Xa’Theri homeworld burned before him. The empires of the galaxy stood divided, and in the darkness, something watched. For this was not just Velmara’s war anymore, this was a war for everything , a war that would decide the fate of the universe itself.

The Second Fall of Velmara had begun, and this time, there would be no survivors.

As the Riftborn unleashed his final attack, a transmission echoed across the stars an ancient message, buried deep in the ruins of time. A voice, distant yet familiar,

a voice that should not exist.

"The sky will burn again. And when it does, you will know the truth

Velmara was never destroyed. It was only waiting."

The Riftborn froze, his endless certainty shattered, for the first time, he was afraid.

Somewhere in the vastness of the cosmos, Velmara still existed, and it was coming home.