The fourth light did not flicker.
It fed.
Far beyond the mapped boundaries of the constellation, the Predator Sovereign descended upon a dormant anomaly cluster—an ancient knot of unclaimed energy drifting between gravitational seams.
The cluster never had a chance.
There was no negotiation.
No resonance exchange.
No harmonic invitation.
Only consumption.
A tendril of compressed darkness lashed outward from the Predator's core, thin as a filament and sharp as a blade. It pierced the dormant anomaly at its center. For a fraction of a second, the cluster flared instinctively—ancient energy recognizing threat too late.
Then it imploded.
The light did not explode outward.
It folded inward.
Pulled.
Stripped.
The Predator absorbed everything—structure, memory, charge—leaving behind a hollow scar in spacetime where something had once existed.
And then it grew.
Not subtly.
Not gradually.
Exponentially.
