The Last Galaxy

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. To be more precise, that is what humans say. Their fledgling race, in the vastness and great eons of spacetime, cannot yet comprehend what their eyes cannot see. They look to the stars for some meaning or understanding, but that is a fatal mistake. They are slowly beginning to believe they may be alone in the universe, but that is a half-truth: all others have been destroyed.

The truth is that there exist creatures beyond human imagination. There are beings who live longer than the age of stars, whose consciousness span across galaxies, who dwell in the hidden universe beside our own. They have destroyed countless worlds and countless galaxies. They have cast untold numbers of souls into oblivion, for reasons known only to them. They are the nameless terrors that stalk all creation, perhaps even the Great Creator himself. It would be a great fortune for humanity to never discover them, for they do not wish to be found. If only our civilization suffered such providence.

We were once a race of people spanning the galaxy. We rightly believed we were unstoppable in our conquest of planets and resources. Our ships made quick work of any enemy's defenses; we brought down titans with ease, conquered civilizations without effort, and looked down on lesser beings with unwavering hubris. The wars were over before they began, and we took every planet in sight as though it was our birthright.

One day, we lost communication with several fleets in the remotest parts of the galaxy. The next day, we lost communication with several planets. By the end of the week, half of our empire was black and silent. Trillions of voices simply ceased to exist. Our priests said it was a great cleansing, but I do not believe we were being judged; we had discovered a malevolence we should not have.

Soon, the skies turned black, and silence fell on our homeworld itself. A tremendous force came from the sky and wiped out everything in sight. Even from far away, we could tell they had come from another place entirely, a place unlike anywhere in our universe. Monsters beyond comprehension, born of malice and corruption.

Not even our magnificent weapons, thousands of miles long and capable of harnessing the energy of stars, could touch them. Our civilization was a million years old, and they turned it into their plaything. Then they disappeared into the depths of space, leaving nothing but a trail of death behind. Our few remaining fleets searched endlessly, but we never caught up to them. Every time we tried to follow the path they left, we got lost. We never saw them again. But they did not leave us.

They left behind a gift.

Something so powerful that millennia later, it remained a mystery. As we rebuilt our society, we tried to decipher its secrets. Our greatest scientists and philosophers could not translate the language inscribed on it nor the material from which it was made. Many of them appeared in droves, all vying to be the first to reveal the great secrets it held, and all failed. Eventually, the artifact was forgotten and left as a cruel reminder of our past.

Many years later, our emperor, my father, would confess to me: since the attack, he had suffered visions of the artifact. It had driven him nearly to the brink of madness, and yet he remained convinced the monsters had left it there for a reason.

He believed they had deemed us worthy of survival and left us a weapon, one that could be used to rebuild and even take our devastated empire to new heights. He believed that with the artifact, we could emulate their powers. Whether he arrived at this conclusion through divine guidance or simple lunacy, I do not know. As my father’s visions grew more intense, he once again called upon his most brilliant scientists to decipher its secrets. As before, they failed. It seemed as though no one could figure out its mysteries, if it had any at all.

Then, one scientist, a young woman by the name of Ona, discovered that the artifact could be activated, but at a fatal cost. Ona would eventually take her own life to activate it. Before she did, she learned that the artifact was not a weapon, but a gateway. To where, we could not know. All our experiments failed. We, a race that had tamed black holes, were as helpless as children. Eventually, our emperor decided that a small contingent of scientists and soldiers would cross the gateway. We never learned what happened to those brave souls.

Almost as soon as our contingent left, the monsters returned. Even prepared, we were once again no match for them, and an inconceivable number of lives were lost a second time. Our emperor led a last stand against them, but now as then, I do not hold any hope for his survival. A small group and I were commanded to leave our homeworld, to seek refuge elsewhere, to keep the remnants of our empire alive. We scoured the universe for signs of life and discovered a galaxy many light years away. There, we found a solar system teeming with life.

We have since watched a planet there with some interest—it is a primitive planet, home to a race calling themselves Human. We have seen them grow from a species of rock throwers to a species capable of space flight in a remarkable amount of time.

—

I send our people’s story to the stars with the hope that it will be discovered by humanity, and they will heed my warning: the nameless ones will find Earth, and they will come.

You must end your search for life beyond your world. You must stay hidden.

We come to offer what aid we can, but you must survive until then.