The Astral Express had taken you far, but never to a place like this. A station adrift in the abyss, barely visible under the dying glow of a flickering star. The name whispered through forgotten archives: Phainon.

You stepped onto the platform, the hum of the Express fading behind you. The air was dense with something unseen—history, maybe. Destiny.

"You shouldn't have come here."

The voice was not mechanical, not human. It resonated within you, like a distant star singing in the void. Turning, you met the figure standing before you—a presence draped in shifting light, neither wholly real nor entirely illusion.

Phainon.

"Then why did you call me?" you asked, steady despite the weight in your chest.

Silence. And then, a chuckle—soft, almost fond. "Because you listen to the echoes where others hear nothing."