The Second Sky Lords

Velmara had grown complacent. For centuries, the truth of its past had been buried beneath propaganda, dismissed as myth, erased from history books by those who sought to control the narrative. The cosmic wars of old had become nothing more than ancient legend, and anyone who spoke of them was labeled a madman.

Then the sky split apart once more.

It began with a single vessel, massive, its surface black as the void, appearing above the capital city of Draen-Vir. It hovered silently, casting a shadow over the skyline, its presence sending waves of terror through the streets. The people had seen ships before government patrols, industrial carriers, airships ferrying dignitaries—but nothing like this.

Within hours, more appeared. Not just above Draen-Vir, but across the entire planet.

And then came the lightning.

The ships, impossibly large, sent beams of energy screaming toward the surface, obliterating military installations, communication hubs, orbital defenses.

The power grids failed, and the world plunged into darkness.

Velmara had forgotten the old gods, but the old gods had never forgotten Velmara.

The Second War of the Sky Lords had begun.

As cities crumbled under celestial fire, something unexpected happened the texts of Peygous resurfaced. For centuries, his teachings had been outlawed, burned, ridiculed, yet in the chaos, his followers emerged from the shadows. The Children of Peygous, once hunted and driven underground, knew this day would come.

For generations, they had hidden their knowledge, secretly preserving the truth of Velmara’s past, and now, as the planet fell into chaos, they began to speak.

The government tried to suppress them. They declared martial law, sent elite forces to silence the prophets, but it was too late, the people listened.

And for the first time in centuries, Velmara looked up at the sky not with indifference, but with terror and recognition.

As Velmara burned, a new fleet emerged from the void.

Their ships, sleek, bronze, and angular, moved with precision, their weapons striking against the invaders. The Camalans had returned.

They were older now, their empire fractured, rebuilt, and reforged in the wars beyond the known galaxy. Yet Velmara was still part of their legacy, a world they had once ruled, one they had bled for, and they would not let it fall so easily.

Camalan warlords descended onto the surface, their soldiers spreading through the cities, establishing order through brutal efficiency. They did not come as saviors, they came as conquerors once more, but Velmara was not the same world they had left, and its people would not bow so easily.

Velmara split into factions:

• The Camalan Loyalists: Those who saw the Camalans as the rightful rulers, believing only they could save Velmara from total annihilation.

  
  

• The Children of Peygous: Those who believed that the return of the Sky Lords was the prophecy fulfilled, and that Velmara needed to reject all foreign rule including the Camalans.

  
  

• The Unified Resistance: A new force, formed by hybrid leaders, ex-military factions, and rebel scientists, who sought to defend Velmara at all costs—without the Camalans, without Peygous’ zealots.

  
  

The once-mighty planetary government collapsed, unable to withstand the chaos.

The factions took control, turning entire continents into war zones.

And through it all, the invaders continued their assault from above.

As Velmara’s defenders fought each other and the Camalans for dominance,

the invaders finally spoke.

A single message, broadcast across all frequencies:

"You are not the first to defy us. You will not be the last.

Surrender and be reshaped, or resist and be erased."

They called themselves the Xa’Theri an ancient, unseen force that had existed before the first great empires, before the rise of Camala, before even the first cosmic wars.

Their war was not just for Velmara.

It was for everything, a final conquest, a purge of all who had ever dared rise to power.

The Camalans had fled from them once before but there would be no fleeing now.

The war that followed was not fought just with weapons.

The Xa’Theri were not like the Kra’Zek, nor the Seydrin, nor even the Camalans.

They fought with reality itself, twisting time, bending the laws of nature, unraveling Velmara’s very fabric. Entire cities vanished overnight, pulled into folds of nonexistence.

The planet’s oceans boiled, its skies turned black, and its moons shattered into dust.

The Camalans fought like they had never fought before. The Children of Peygous waged a holy war. The Unified Resistance unleashed weapons once considered too dangerous to use.

But it was not enough, Velmara was dying.

Faced with total extinction, the leaders of all factions met in what remained of Draen-Vir, the last standing capital. For the first time in history, Camalans, rebels, zealots, and hybrids stood together. There was only one option left.

A weapon, buried deep beneath Velmara’s crust a relic of the first war, built by the original Camalan conquerors but never used. A weapon designed to tear open reality itself and erase anything caught within it.

The Xa’Theri would be consumed, but so would Velmara.

It was suicide, It was necessary.

As the last of the Xa’Theri fleet descended, the weapon was activated and the planet screamed. A rift opened, a black wound in space-time, swallowing everything the Xa’Theri, the Camalans, the armies, the cities, the very soul of Velmara itself.

And then, nothing, Velmara was gone.

The ruins of Velmara drifted through space a shattered husk of what was once a thriving world. In time, it became legend, a warning, a tale of gods and war, of ambition and ruin, of power taken too far.

But the question remained did anyone survive?

And if they did where were they now?

Somewhere in the vastness of the cosmos, the children of Velmara still whispered the name of their lost home waiting, watching and wondering if, one day, the sky would burn again.

The Second War of the Sky Lords had ended, but history had a way of repeating itself.