From publisher blurb:
In the aftermath of rebellion, the galaxy is a graveyard of ideals. Stars once warmed by the unity of the Trinity Pact now shimmer cold and distant, casting long shadows across the forgotten worlds. The Trinity Pact, a fragile coalition of systems, fell not to an external threat, but to the weight of its own betrayal. Fractured by greed, pride, and insurrection, its collapse left a vacuum—a yawning chasm into which the embers of hope and chaos tumbled, fueling the rise of the Formari Ascendancy. The Ascendancy began as whispers on the edge of extinction, murmurs of a leader who could forge order from anarchy. Under the iron rule of Autarch Syndall Daro, they have emerged as a force relentless in their ambition. The Formari’s banners now rise over ruins of the Pact, their ideology simple: survival through subjugation, unity through domination. They promise peace, but their peace is one of steel and silence, where dissent is a crime against existence itself. Amid this brutal resurgence, the remnants of resistance scatter like leaves in the solar wind. In darkened corridors and forgotten outposts, whispers of rebellion persist, faint and fragile. The Echo Syndicate, a secretive faction of operatives and mercenaries, dances between the lines of loyalty and betrayal, manipulating both the Ascendancy and the desperate rebels. Yet even their motives are unclear, their leaders silent, their schemes as intricate and unfathomable as the spiral arms of the galaxy itself. The Formari Empire may claim dominion over the stars, but there are cracks in every foundation, shadows that slip through every net. In these shadows, the past stirs. Secrets buried in the rubble of the Pact are beginning to awaken, and with them, a threat neither empire nor rebellion could anticipate.
You awaken aboard the freighter Maltheos, its ancient hull groaning against the pull of a distant star. The ship drifts, half-forgotten, in the cold expanse of a fringe system. A datapad lies in your hand, its cracked screen glowing faintly. Coordinates flicker across it, unfamiliar but urgent, pulling you toward the unknown. A message, left by a voice you barely remember, echoes in your mind: "The truth lies buried in the dust of the Pact. Find it before the Ascendancy does, or all is lost."