Genre: Action/Sci-Fi/Comedy
Director: Zack Snyder
Writer: Dawson Edwards
Based on the Dungeons & Dragons campaign setting
Cast: Will Smith, Tye Sheridan, Gal Gadot, Jason Isaacs, William H. Macy (voice), Gerard Butler (voice), Naomi Scott
Plot: Luth Aelindor shimmered in the endless silver void, its crystalline spires stretching impossibly high above the Astral Plane. The palace-city had stood for eons, untouched by time, ruled by a lineage that traced back to the dawn of the Astral Courts. Tonight was meant to be another ceremony, another display of stability, another night where tradition reigned supreme.
Then the Sovereign Star-King vanished in a pulse of arcane energy.
The explosion of white fire rattled the throne room, a shockwave pulsing outward, warping the very air as the ground trembled beneath it. The gathered nobility staggered back in horror, their ceremonial robes whipping in the wind that should not exist in this place. The golden banners of House Vaelor fluttered wildly, and at the center of it all, standing alone before the empty throne, was Sylwen Vaelor (Tye Sheridan).
A silence deeper than the void settled over the chamber. Then the whispers began.
“Assassin.”
“Betrayer.”
Sylwen stared at the empty throne, his heartbeat a war drum in his chest. This wasn’t possible. It wasn’t real. His father, the Star-King, had vanished before his very eyes.
The silence broke as the Astral Inquisitors stepped forward, their forms sleek and imposing, their armor glowing with cosmic energy. Blades of condensed starlight ignited in their hands.
The lead Inquisitor’s voice rang like a death sentence. “Prince Sylwen Vaelor. By decree of the Astral Courts, you are under arrest for the crime of regicide.”
Sylwen’s breath hitched. Then his body moved before his mind could catch up. Run.
The first spell exploded against the floor behind him, shattering the polished marble into dust. He darted past towering columns, twisting down the corridor as guards and Inquisitors pursued in perfect synchronization.
His feet barely touched the ground as he vaulted down a spiraling staircase of floating platforms, skipping entire landings, ignoring the burning in his legs. Spells whizzed past him, searing the air, tearing through ancient statues, warping reality itself.
The balcony was close. If he could reach it…
A golden spear of energy slammed into the wall beside him, the explosion throwing him forward. He landed hard, rolling across the floor, vision swimming as armored footsteps closed in.
He turned sharply, only to collide with an Inquisitor.
The knight grabbed him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly into the air. The mask was blank, expressionless, reflecting only the palace burning around them. Sylwen kicked, struggled, his vision darkening at the edges.
Instinct.
His fingers wrapped around the tiny dagger strapped to his belt, an ornament not a weapon, but all he had. He twisted and drove it into the Inquisitor’s wrist joint.
The grip loosened. He wrenched free, hitting the floor hard, coughing as air returned to his lungs. The knight recovered, stepping forward, raising his sword.
Sylwen ran.
The balcony doors burst open as he threw himself into the night.
The family skiff hovered just beyond the edge, its crystalline sails glowing in the astral wind. The guards that should have been protecting it were gone.
Spells ignited behind him. The floor cracked and shattered. Sylwen reached the railing, pushed off with everything he had, and jumped.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then his fingers caught the rigging.
The impact jarred his entire body, pain lancing through his shoulder, but he held on, breath ragged as he scrambled onto the deck.
He collapsed into the pilot’s chair, hands shaking over the controls, his mind racing. The Inquisitors were still coming.
Magic sparked at his fingertips, wild, unpredictable. He needed to teleport, needed to get away now. “Dimension Door” he thought.
His spell misfired.
A pulse of chaotic energy exploded outward.
A unicorn appeared out of thin air.
Sylwen stared.
The unicorn stared back.
Then it screamed and kicked him in the chest.
His body slammed into the controls, and the skiff lurched violently, veering away from the palace in a jagged, unstable flight.
The last thing he saw before the mists swallowed everything was the throne tower of Luth Aelindor, burning against the starlight.
He had escaped. But he had no destination. No allies. No home. Only the vast unknown stretching before him.
The cantina was already in full-blown chaos.
Fists flew. Glass shattered. Bodies slammed against tables, against walls, against the floorboards that had been sticky long before this particular brawl broke out. The air was thick with the tang of smoke, spilled liquor, and the distant hum of off-world music barely audible over the grunts and curses of the men trying and failing to put Cass Drake (Will Smith) down.
Cass ducked, weaving between swings like he’d done it a thousand times before. A wide arc of a punch came for him. Too slow. He sidestepped it, letting the poor bastard behind him take the hit instead. The unfortunate soul collapsed against the bar, knocking over Metris’ (voiced by William H. Macy) drink. The Thri-Kreen monk didn’t react, just calmly picked up his glass before it could spill. “My missing monastery would never…”
Another goon lunged. Cass pivoted, snapped his fingers and a blade of pure psionic energy ignited in his hand. It wasn’t metal, wasn’t even real, just a thought sharpened to a razor’s edge. He let the guy see it for half a second before slamming the hilt into his stomach. The man folded like a cheap chair.
Two more came at him from opposite sides. Cass rolled over the bar, landing neatly next to Karis (Naomi Scott), a young human woman and Metris, who didn’t so much as glance at him.
Karis casually took a sip from her glass. "Running out of moves?"
Cass winked. "I got moves for days."
He kicked off the bar, flipping back into the fight, his blades materializing mid-motion. The crowd roared, the fight escalating into something spectacularly stupid.
Across the room, Garrak (voiced by Gerard Butler), the Giff, don’t call him a hippo, waded through the chaos like a moving fortress, using his sheer size to bulldoze through brawlers. A heavyset mercenary lunged at him with a broken bottle. Garrak headbutted him so hard it nearly cracked the floor, then swung his massive rifle into his hands and…Click-Clack. He censored the bartender’s potty mouth with the sound of his reloading.
Cass laughed as he vaulted over a table, turning in mid-air, hurling one of his soulknives at an attacker mid-lunge. The energy blade sliced through the air, embedding itself in the guy’s shoulder before blinking out of existence. The man spun from the impact and crashed into a pile of chairs.
The fight should have kept going but it didn’t.
Because the air in the center of the cantina suddenly twisted, folded inward then with a violent snap, a full-sized Spelljammer skiff just… appeared.
Right in the middle of the bar.
Tables and chairs were instantly obliterated under the ship’s sudden weight. Patrons were thrown off their feet. The floorboards groaned beneath the impossible presence of something that should not be here.
A hatch on the skiff hissed open, and out crawled an Astral Elf. Sylwen groaned, pulling himself up on shaking arms. His face was cut, bruised, his once-pristine robes burned and torn. He was clearly barely holding himself together.
“I need a ship,” he rasped.
Cass wiped his mouth, exhaling through his nose. "Do I look like I give a fu-"
Click-clack.
The sound of Garrak cocking his rifle cut him off.
Cass rolled his eyes. Then sighed.
“I’m a Prince.”
Bral stretched across the surface of the asteroid like a beast refusing to die, its glowing towers and twisting streets a testament to the kind of people who had built it, those too stubborn or too dangerous to thrive anywhere else. What had once been a pirate’s hideout had transformed into the beating heart of Wildspace trade, a crossroads for smugglers, nobles, dignitaries, and cutthroats alike.
The Horizon Breaker settled into a docking bay in the Low City, its engines coughing out a final sputter before shutting down. Around them, the docks pulsed with activity, merchants haggling, mechanics shouting over the sound of welding, travelers watching their backs. No one here asked questions. That was Rule Number One on the Rock.
Cass led the way into the market streets, hands in his pockets, weaving through the crowd like a man who had lived here just long enough to know exactly when to duck. The city climbed around them in chaotic layers. Towering businesses of the Middle City flashing neon signs above, while the rooftops of the Low City slumped under the weight of too many people trying to disappear.
Sylwen was staring.
Karis caught his expression and nudged him, a smirk curling at the edge of her mouth. “You look like a tourist.”
“This place is…” Sylwen hesitated, eyes drifting across the sheer variety of life moving through the streets, Hadozee traders laughing over barrels of rum, Goliath and Dwarven mercenaries bartering for new weapons, Humans and Elves wrapped in noble robes, side by side with pirates in patched-up armor.
“Beautiful?” Karis teased.
“I was going to say impossible.”
Karis shrugged, her fingers idly flicking, weaving a small illusion of a silver dragonfly between them. “So is sailing through the stars on a magic ship, but here we are.”
Sylwen watched the dragonfly flit between her hands before vanishing in a shimmer of light. “You’re good at that.”
Karis tilted her head, feigning modesty. “Oh, I dabble.”
Cass, who had been pretending not to hear them, rolled his eyes so hard he nearly sprained something. “Great, I love this. Really. But can we flirt on our own time? We’ve got a job to do.”
Sylwen straightened immediately, clearing his throat. Karis just gave Cass a knowing look before falling into step beside him again.
Cass muttered under his breath. Then, as if on cue, he turned a corner and shifted instantly into full charm mode.
Because there, at the center of a bustling, lavish casino, draped in shadow and elegance, was Saphira Nightwind (Gal Gadot).
She was leaning against the roulette table, lazily tapping her fingers along its edge, her Tiefling eyes glinting like cut obsidian.
Cass grinned, slipping into the seat across from her. “Saphira, darling. Long time no see.”
She didn’t even look up from her drink. “Still alive? Disappointing.”
Cass placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “You wound me.”
Her gaze flicked up to meet his, and for half a second, there was something sharp and amused behind her smirk. Then she sighed dramatically, swirling her drink.
“What do you want, Cass?”
Cass leaned in. “The Emerald vault. You know where it is.”
Saphira tilted her head, considering. “And if I did, why would I tell you?”
Cass grinned. “Because we both know you’re running a job here. Which means you want out before the Guild realizes you’re double-dipping.”
Saphira’s expression barely shifted.
Then, she exhaled. “North quadrant. Behind the trade houses. Security’s tight. Two minutes inside before the scanners tag your biometrics. After that? You’re dead.”
Cass nodded. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Saphira smirked. “Oh, I never said I was done.”
Cass barely had time to process before the room erupted into absolute chaos.
The heist should have been clean. It wasn’t.
Garrak had barely stepped foot inside the vault before Sylwen’s Wild Magic went berserk. He had meant to disarm the alarm system but instead, he had transformed all the security drones into aggressively territorial seagulls.
Karis’ illusions were working flawlessly, until one of Sylwen’s magic hiccups randomly duplicated the head of the casino’s security and put it on the wrong body.
Metris moved through the chaos like liquid, knocking out guards with precision—except for the one unfortunate moment when Sylwen accidentally made him twice his normal size mid-maneuver, sending him crashing through an entire row of vault boxes.
Cass, focused as ever, was mid-lockpick on the vault when the entire floor became sentient quicksand. It was, to put it mildly, a disaster. They got what they came for but just barely.
The Magistrate’s Watch descended onto the casino like a storm.
Cass and the crew barreled into the night, alarms blaring behind them. The streets of Bral turned against them, mercenaries closing in, bounty hunters sniffing out the disturbance.
Cass pulled Sylwen by the collar, dragging him into a side alley. “You don’t get to talk for five minutes.”
“I…”
“FIVE. MINUTES.”
They tore through the Middle City, ducking between hanging bridges and glowing market stalls, Garrak blasting through obstacles, Karis throwing up illusions to cover their escape, Metris vaulting over gaps like it was nothing.
Sylwen, panicking, tried to teleport them to safety.
Instead, half the crew disappeared for six seconds.
When they reappeared, Garrak looked deeply disturbed, Karis was visibly shaking, and Metris simply muttered, “We are never speaking of that.”
The docks were within sight. Behind them, a squad of heavily armed mercenaries rounded the corner. The fight was inevitable.
Garrak cocked his rifle. Metris took a silent breath, steadying himself.
Sylwen, sweating, raised his hands, ready to try anything to make up for this mess.
Then, from the rooftops, a sharp whistle rang out. They all turned.
Saphira sat casually on the edge of a rooftop, bow in hand, legs crossed.
Cass groaned. “Oh, come on.”
Saphira winked.
Sylwen, determined not to screw this up, channeled another spell. A spectacular surge of power built in his hands.
And then he turned himself into a potted plant.
Cass dodged an attack, saw Sylwen, and nearly lost his mind.
“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”
Garrak threw Sylwen-the-plant over his shoulder and kept running.
The Horizon Breaker was in sight, its engines already flaring to life.
They sprinted up the ramp, blaster bolts ricocheting off the hull.
Cass was the last one inside, panting as he slapped the controls. The ship lurched upward, tearing away from the docks just as an explosion rocked the city below them.
The crew collapsed onto the deck, breathing hard.
Sylwen, now fully back to normal, groaned. “What… just happened?”
Cass sat up, running a hand down his face.
“You happened.”
The Horizon Breaker cut into the void, racing toward their next destination.
The ruins drifted in the void, the last remnants of a world that no longer existed. No fire, no corpses, just absence. A kingdom erased in an instant, like it had never been.
Zael’Rith (Jason Isaacs) stood on a fractured slab of marble, hands clasped behind his back, unmoved by the silence. Behind him, his Inquisitors knelt, waiting.
The lone survivor trembled at his feet, her fine silks in tatters. She gasped, eyes darting to where her home had been.
"You. You destroyed everything," she rasped.
Zael’Rith tilted his head, mildly curious. "Destroyed? No. That would imply something remains."
She tried to move, to speak, but the space around her shuddered. The breath in her lungs vanished. Her fingers clutched at nothing.
"A flaw," Zael’Rith murmured, watching her unravel. "Corrected."
And then she was gone. Not dead. Just erased.
The Inquisitors remained silent.
One finally spoke. "The monastery?"
Zael’Rith’s gaze didn’t shift, but something in the void did. A ripple. A fracture.
"A necessary precedent."
Another pause. The comms crackled.
"My Lord, the Astral Courts are noticing the anomalies."
Zael’Rith exhaled, faintly amused. "Let them."
The Inquisitor hesitated. "And the prince?"
Zael’Rith’s eyes darkened.
"He was never meant to be."
A flicker of raw power pulsed through the void.
"And soon, he won’t be."
The Horizon Breaker drifted in the quiet expanse of Wildspace, its engines humming softly beneath the silence of the crew. Karis sat near the viewport, absently flicking a coin between her fingers, the silver glinting in the starlight.
Sylwen leaned against the opposite wall, watching her. "You do that when you're nervous," he said.
Karis smirked, not looking up. "You assume I'm ever nervous."
Cass, standing at the helm, arms crossed, glanced between them. "You're a terrible liar."
Karis hesitated. Just for a second. The coin slipped, landing flat on the table.
Sylwen straightened slightly, sensing something shift. "Karis?"
She exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "It’s just... I used to have this idea of where I’d end up. What my life was supposed to be. And now I’m here, flying through the void with…" she gestured vaguely between them. "...a cursed rogue and a wild magic disaster. Not exactly what I planned."
Cass chuckled, leaning back. "Yeah, well, life’s full of…"
"But maybe it was never my choice," she cut in.
The air shifted.
Sylwen’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Karis opened her mouth, then stopped. Whatever she was about to say, it was too much.
She forced a grin, flicked the coin back into her palm, and leaned back. "Nothing. Just talking nonsense."
Cass studied her for a moment.
Sylwen didn’t look convinced. But neither of them pressed. The moment passed.
The Horizon Breaker shuddered as it neared the dying star, the vessel struggling against the gravitational tides that rippled outward in waves of crimson and gold. The sky churned with violent flares, the corona stretching like molten fingers grasping at the void. And orbiting in its deadly embrace, Zael'Rith’s fortress, a colossal obsidian monolith, flickered like a mirage, phasing in and out of existence, as if reality itself was rejecting it.
The ship’s sensors screamed warnings.
Inside the cockpit, Karis and Sylwen sat side by side, the glow of the displays painting their faces in shifting hues.
"You ever been in a Spelljammer battle before?" Karis asked, fingers flying over the controls as she rerouted power through the ship’s battered systems.
Sylwen swallowed, trying to maintain some level of dignity. "Not… exactly."
Karis smirked. "So that’s a no."
Before Sylwen could protest, the comms crackled.
"Incoming," Garrak’s voice rumbled.
The enemy ships emerged from the distortion fields around the fortress. Sleek, black-hulled skiffs that moved with unnatural precision.
"Alright, princeling," Karis said, her hands dancing across the console, "time to impress me."
Sylwen focused, summoning his magic, preparing to create a shield spell around the ship.
Instead, he summoned a field of floating spectral ribbons.
Karis blinked. "Huh. Not bad, if we were decorating for a festival."
Sylwen groaned.
Garrak opened fire, the main cannon thundering as explosive shells ripped through the enemy formation. Metris, moving like a shadow, vaulted from the ship onto an enemy vessel, his limbs stretching and twisting in zero gravity. He landed silently, disabled the pilot with a single strike, and ripped the control panel apart with precise, methodical efficiency.
Onboard the Horizon Breaker, Karis activated illusion protocols, flickering the ship’s image across multiple locations, making it appear as if there were five of them. The enemy skiffs faltered, their targeting scrambled.
Cass stood near the pod bay, watching the battle unfold. His fingers twitched as he prepared to board.
"We’re going in," he muttered.
Sylwen turned to Karis, their eyes meeting.
"Try not to die," she said.
Sylwen hesitated just for a moment. "You too."
Cass grabbed him by the collar and shoved him into the boarding pod before he could get any more sentimental.
The pod launched, streaking toward the fortress like a burning comet. It slammed into the hull, cutting through the structure like a knife.
Inside, the fortress was wrong.
Corridors twisted in impossible angles, doors appeared and vanished, flickering between states of existence. The air hummed with the weight of something ancient and unfinished.
Cass and Sylwen moved quickly, pushing deeper into the labyrinth of shifting walls and pulsating energy. The core chamber loomed ahead, a vast, circular space where Zael'Rith hovered, his form barely a silhouette against the swirling maelstrom of collapsing space.
Zael'Rith turned, his voice smooth, almost amused. "I was wondering when you’d arrive."
The walls pulsed, reality buckling. Images flickered in and out of existence. Places that had been erased, histories rewritten, entire civilizations collapsed into nothingness.
"You," Zael'Rith said, his eyes locking onto Sylwen, "should not exist."
A thousand different versions of Sylwen flickered behind him, half-formed realities, paths never taken, erased futures.
Sylwen’s breath caught.
Zael'Rith’s voice was steady, deliberate. "The only reason you’re still standing, child, is because I did not account for your magic."
Dark energy exploded outward. The room shook violently, the spell tearing through space itself.
Sylwen tried to react, but the magic inside him rebelled, surging chaotically, flickering between strength and ruin. A burst of golden light erupted from his hands, but it warped midair, twisting into a storm of floating, bewildered seagulls.
Zael'Rith barely acknowledged them.
Sylwen gritted his teeth.
He had spent his entire life trying to control this. Trying to contain it. But magic wasn’t meant to be contained. For the first time, he let it in.
The chaotic tide of Wild Magic rushed through him, not as a curse, but as a storm waiting to be directed.
The walls warped and hallways became endless loops, staircases spiraled into themselves, the entire fortress bent to his will.
For a single, perfect moment, Sylwen didn’t fight the magic. He became it.
Fire crawled across his skin, shifting in color, in form. The very geometry of the room twisted under his command.
Zael'Rith faltered.
Sylwen lifted his hands, and the magic aligned. Raw energy coalescing into a massive FIREBALL.
He unleashed it.
It struck the core of Zael'Rith’s spell, the entire fortress screaming in protest as the unraveling stopped, the chaotic energy dissipating, reality stabilizing for the first time in what felt like eternity.
Zael'Rith staggered, his form flickering.
Cass, standing nearby, turned at the sound of footsteps.
Saphira.
She was moving toward an escape vessel, eyes locked on the exit. Cass intercepted her, blocking her path. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"You could have walked away clean," Cass murmured.
Saphira exhaled, glancing past him toward the exit, then back at him. There was something like regret in her eyes, but it was buried deep. "Maybe I still will."
Cass didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Then the fortress groaned, the structure collapsing around them. Saphira stepped back.
Cass smirked. "You’re a (CLICK-CLACK) idiot."
She smirked. "Takes one to know one."
They ran.
Back in Wildspace, the Horizon Breaker’s battle raged on, each remaining crew member holding their ground. Karis redirected engine power, sending the ship into a spiral that dodged a barrage of incoming fire. Metris vaulted back onto the hull, flipping through zero gravity, moving with surgical precision as he disabled an enemy turret mid-air.
Garrak, standing at the main cannon, fired a final, deafening shot, obliterating the last of Zael'Rith’s forces.
The boarding pod barely made it back in time.
Cass, Sylwen, and Saphira tumbled out of the hatch, breathless, as the fortress behind them folded in on itself, a final burst of light consuming its remains.
The Horizon Breaker pulled away, the dying star still raging behind them, its flames licking at the void like something hungry, something endless.
On the bridge, the crew stood in silence, watching the expanse of Wildspace stretch before them.
Metris leaned against the railing, gazing up at the distant glow of passing Kindori, massive, celestial whale-like creatures drifting through the stars.
Garrak stood beside him, adjusting his rifle. "You ever gonna tell us what happened to your monastery?"
Metris was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he spoke.
"It was erased."
They watched the Kindori pass, their massive forms moving with slow, deliberate grace.
Behind them, Sylwen sat beside Karis, watching her fingers flicker with soft, illusionary light.
"So," she said, smiling. "Are you a rogue now?"
Sylwen let out a breath, shaking his head. "I think I’m just getting started."
