THE NEW AGE

CHAPTER 11: THE TRUCE OF THIURATE

The bridge of Thiurate's flagship remained silent, save for the hum of the ship's systems and the faint, almost imperceptible thrum from the Catalyst's containment field. General Arcan stood stiffly, his hand still on his blade, his eyes darting between Thiurate and the holographic projection of Elder Solara. His military mind screamed defiance. They had the Catalyst! They had endured! Why yield now to these self-proclaimed "guardians"?

But Thiurate, barely sixteen, felt a strange, compelling calm emanating from Solara. Her words, "Peace born from annihilation is merely the silence of a grave," resonated deeply. He had walked through battlefields littered with his own dead, and the enemy's. The taste of victory was often bitter. The Catalyst, even now, felt like a dangerous, unpredictable force. Could true peace come from surrendering it?

"We accept," Thiurate said, his voice cutting through the tension.

Arcan gasped, "Chancellor! My Liege, with all due respect, this is madness! We have the means to end this war on our terms!"

Solara's projection offered a faint, approving nod. "A wise decision, young Chancellor. Your wisdom far outstrips your years. This galactic ceasefire will commence immediately. Your dreadnoughts and the Catalyst will be placed in secure Lumina custody. Details for the neutral zone and demilitarization will follow." Her image shimmered and then vanished, leaving behind a lingering sense of peace.

On the USOF flagship, Lord Dreius stared at the blank screen in disbelief. "What? They accepted? The Asson surrendered their prized weapon?" He turned to General Cool, his face a mask of fury. "Cool! Did you hear that? The cowards!"

Cool, however, was still staring at his fluctuating targeting systems. "My Lord, their ships are holding position. They're not engaging. And our weapons... they're completely unresponsive." He slammed a fist on the console. "It's like they've just... shut us down!"

Dreius's rage quickly turned to a chilling realization. This wasn't a surrender; it was an imposition. The Lumina Collective wasn't asking; they were demanding. And they had the power to enforce it. The galaxy had just shifted on its axis.