We all acknowledged that the inhabited planets revolved around the Sun, so it was with not-insignificant concern that we greeted news of Lord Harathi and his Starkiller. The blade had taken a hundred human lifetimes to forge, with a singular purpose: to free Lord Harathi’s domain from gravity’s hegemony.

There was a ceremony before he left, his inspirational speeches drowned out by the sorrows of his subjects and our fervent pleas.

But Lord Harathi heard us not.

With a mighty bound, he leapt into orbit; we rushed to our telescopes as he accelerated, a luminescent comet with Starkiller tracing electric blue arcs in his wake.

Unable to follow, we could do little more than sit and wait for our worlds to end. And we waited, and waited, and watched and waited, as our Lord traced perpetual orbits around the Sun.

Lord Harathi may be semi-divine, but his ignorance of orbital mechanics is vast.

If he had asked any of his astronomers before he left on his crusade, they would have been honour-bound to tell him that his glorious onward acceleration would forever carry him away, rising into the abyss between worlds.

Lord Harathi is still out there, desperately accelerating towards Starkiller’s prey. For all our sakes, hope he never reaches it.