ore than Twenty Galactic Leaders Gather: Congress of the Hollow Oath Opens Above the Segmented Nydraleum
On stardate 4422.285, dozens of intergalactic powerbrokers are convening on a floating island at the Congress of the Hollow Oath, with the Squeezing of Rahmascheur looming in the background. Who attends, who abstains-and whether hollow oaths ever ignite real peace-remains subject to a calculated cosmic spectacle.
Stardate 4422.285 – Accordius Haven, the floating mirror-island above the liquid mosaic lands of The Segmented Nydraleum, is alive with anticipation. Over twenty leading figures from the Intergalactic Federation arrived today for the Congress of the Hollow Oath. This annual assembly-where time and patience are stretched under the cool scrutiny of Commander Voxal-Oracle of Suppression-is this time co-chaired by Supreme Commander Drumpf of Orbital Prime.
The Congress was convened in response to the ongoing Squeezing of Rahmascheur-the temporal rift where existence and administrative oblivion blur continually. Organizers, calmly seated in anti-grav loungers, emphasize the urgent aim: orchestrating an end to the War Codex of Judae, and perhaps, by accident or design, making stability more than a holographic wish.
The guest list features Prelate Entoros Gutheveran of The Council of the Endless Echo, Regent Sferolux the Consensus-Mirror of the Aurorian Mosaic Archipelago, Vigiliane of the Stratocratic Mosaic, and Empress Zala von Delyor of the Cerulean Consortium. Hala-Core, architect of the plasma bastions encircling Rahmascheur, is notably absent. The fiery Order of the Flame Sons has also not been invited-the organizers wary of ceremonial tables catching spontaneous fire.
Despite intense diplomatic traffic, everything reeks of uncertainty. Yesterday, a hasty holo message broke through: a preliminary deal between Hala-Core and the Order of the Flame Sons-phase one of an exchange operation. Surviving captives from Rahmascheur will be swapped for hundreds of detained Rift inhabitants from Hala-Core's cold depots. The withdrawal of zerodrone forces was supposed to crack open the door to an uneasy peace.
Still, for many Rift inhabitants, their 'returned home' is a mist of ash and fractured memories. ‘Even the echoes have been wiped away,’ laments a returning archival drone operative to the Cosmic Courier. Images have seldom been so bare: where a street once stood, only emptiness lines up in rows.