Articles by The King in Red

Sleep claimed thousands in an instant—pilots nodding off in cockpit jump‑seats, archivists face‑down on illuminated folios, Sith and Jedi alike sinking mid‑meditation—only to hurl them into the same chasm of starlit black. They hovered in perfect vacuum before a world‑machine so vast the eye...

Night found every meditater, scout, and unsuspecting adept sinking into the same impossible architecture: a single, towering rust‑red spire that seemed to bore straight through the planet's crust, its surface pitted by rain of ages. No sky. No horizon. Only the spire—and a gravity that didn't...

All through the same unmarked hour, star‑pilots, temple adepts, and unaware children alike slipped into a seamless, soundless nightmare. They drifted weightless inside a corridor of shattered durasteel. Overhead, the deck plating had peeled back like flower petals, exposing a cosmic void...

In the same sliver of night‑cycle, thousands of Force‑sensitives drifted into a chilling shared dream. Each sleeper felt the temperature of mind and marrow plunge as blinding snow swallowed every horizon. The storm carried whispers in a hundred extinct tongues—battle cries, burial rites...

A low‑level ripple has begun turning heads in nav‑centers from Denon to Dromund Kaas. Three nights ago, independent Starchaser relays along the Rim recorded a burst of "ghost pings" — hyperlane‑beacon handshakes that flashed into existence for less than a second and then winked out as though...