Days 24 to 27 Beyond the Door
The sky over Zarconis had turned crimson. Not the soft blush of sunset, but a deep, aching red that bled across the clouds and made the stars weep. The three moons—red, silver, and green—moved slower now, as if reluctant to witness the end.
Only three remained.
Lior, Berek, and Eysa moved through a jungle that no longer pretended to be beautiful. The light was dimmer, the wind no longer hummed. Floating crystals that once danced in the skies now drifted like ash, their glow fading. Every tree, every stone, every shadow felt like it watched them.
The forest had grown still. Not silent—there were sounds. But they were wrong. Clicking. Breathing. Distant cries that didn't echo.
By Day 24, they no longer marked the trees.
On Day 25, Berek vanished.
There was no scream, no sign of struggle. Just a snapped branch, a flash of movement, and then silence. Lior and Eysa searched the area until dusk, finding only his carved pendant wedged into a stone. She held it in her hand for hours, unwilling to let it go.
That night, the auroras didn't come.
They sat beside a shrinking fire, too tired to speak. The stars above no longer shimmered; they stared, unblinking, like a thousand cold eyes.
"I dreamed of the lake," Eysa whispered finally.
Lior looked up.
"Remember? The one from Day 3. The one with the floating lily-lanterns."
Lior smiled faintly. "You made me eat one of those fruits. Said it would taste like mint."
"It didn't."
"No. It tasted like burnt copper."
They laughed. It was soft, brief. But it was real.
Day 26
Eysa didn't wake up.
Lior found her lying beside the embers, her face peaceful. No wounds. No struggle. A cluster of bioluminescent spores had grown along her chest, like a soft blanket. They pulsed gently, like a heartbeat.
Lior didn't cry. She covered Eysa's body with leaves and stones, then left before the jungle changed its mind.
She walked alone beneath a burning sky.
---
Flashback
Day 7. Evening.
The team had gathered by a riverbank. The twin stars reflected off the water like molten gold. Juno had rigged a music device to play something rhythmic—percussion and humming tones. Someone passed a flask. Someone else told a joke about Kael's cooking.
Arron stood a little apart, arms crossed. Lior had walked over, emboldened by the warmth of the moment.
"You don't talk much," she said.
"I observe," he replied.
She nodded. "So what do you see?"
He glanced at the others—Kael leaning back, laughing at something Rul said. Jora and Mira dancing to the strange, borrowed beat.
"A team that wasn't supposed to survive this long."
"Maybe that's what makes it beautiful."
Arron hadn't answered. But he stayed there with them, just a little closer than usual.
---
Day 27
Lior reached a clearing where the air shimmered strangely. Twin beams of starlight broke through the canopy, illuminating a lone figure.
Arron.
He was kneeling beside a pool of black water, his rifle across his lap. He looked up slowly as she approached.
"I wondered if you'd make it," he said. His voice was rough.
"You're alive."
"For now."
Lior sat across from him. The air between them was heavy. Around the clearing, the jungle twisted unnaturally, trees bent as if leaning in to listen.
"What happened to you?" she asked.
"I was following something. A pattern. Lights. Movement. Thought I could learn what it wanted. What this world wanted."
"And?"
"I think it wanted to see if we'd break."
They sat in silence. The sky grew darker, the red fading into bruised purple. The stars blinked slowly. The moons began to descend.
"We should go back," Lior said.
"There's nowhere left to go."
She looked at him, really looked—his armor was cracked, his eyes sunken. But something else had changed. He no longer looked like the cold, distant commander. He looked human. Fragile.
"I miss Kael," she said suddenly. "He used to whistle when he cooked. Even if he burned everything."
Arron nodded. "Juno would complain about her tools and fix them anyway. She used to name the drones."
"Rul wrote poetry. He didn't think anyone knew, but I found one in a datapad."
"Mira drew everything. Even the things she hated."
They shared their memories quietly, one after another, until the clearing glowed faintly with something warmer than starlight.
Then the ground shivered.
Not a quake. A breath.
A low hum filled the air. The pool beside them rippled.
From the treeline, shapes emerged. Tall. Glowing. Silent. The beings they had glimpsed days before, now circling like sentinels.
Lior stood, but Arron didn't.
"You go," he said. "I'll stay."
"No."
"You're the last. That means something."
She reached out. "Not like this."
But it was too late.
The air cracked. Light surged. The beings moved forward.
Arron rose slowly and stepped between them and her. Lior opened her mouth to protest, but he just gave a slight shake of his head.
"Go," he said. "If one of us makes it—make it matter."
Before she could respond, the ground behind him erupted. A massive, coiled limb—scaled and gleaming—snapped through the air. The forest exploded with motion. Lior was thrown back by the blast of energy and earth.
When she scrambled to her feet, the clearing had changed. One of the monstrous beings was slinking away into the shadows, dragging something behind it.
At the center of the chaos lay a mangled shape.
It was what remained of Arron.
His armor was shredded, the insignia still faintly visible. His body—what was left of it—was twisted unnaturally, torn open, as if consumed from within. Flesh gone. Only the skin lay there, deflated, empty.
Lior couldn't breathe.
Eysa turned her face away. "He's gone."
They didn't argue. There was nothing left to argue about.
They ran, leaving the remains behind—one more soul devoured by the jungle's hunger.
---
Later
She walked alone beneath a sky that wept silver rain.
The ruins of their journey lay behind her. Every tree, every ridge, every mark they had made was fading. Zarconis was reclaiming it.
Lior found a place beneath a tree with glowing roots. She opened her journal—now tattered, damp, stained—and flipped to the final page.
She drew their faces.
Kael. Mira. Erol. Berek. Juno. Rul. Arron. All of them.
And she wrote:
"We came to learn. We came to witness. We came to survive.
And we did—all of those things. For a while.
If someone finds this… remember us not as victims. Not as invaders.
Remember us as lights that burned bright, even in the dark.
We are gone.
But the story is not."
She closed the book.
She stared at the final page for a long time. The glowing roots pulsed softly beneath her, the jungle silent in reverence.
Then, without ceremony, she opened her pack and pulled out the last functioning pulse knife.
Lior sat with it in her lap, breathing slow. No tears. No panic. Just a deep, overwhelming quiet.
"I told your stories," she whispered. "There's no one left to tell mine."
She looked up one last time. The sky had turned gold—twin stars bathing her in soft light as if to cradle her.
And then she made her choice.
The forest did not resist. The air did not cry out. It simply folded her into stillness.
And Zarconis was silent again.
End of Chapter 9