The journey through the Ghost Corridors was long and exhausting. For what seemed like weeks, the Odyssey moved through swirling purple fog, shaken by waves of fear and chased by screaming Wraiths.
The crew was exhausted, their spirits worn thin by the constant, mournful whispers of dead realities. Emma was pale and withdrawn, spending most of her time in a deep meditative trance, shielded by Ryan's mental fortress.
Even the ever-optimistic Chris had fallen into a quiet, grim mood. They were a single frayed nerve, stretched to the breaking point.
And then, just when they felt they couldn't take another moment of the oppressive gloom, it ended.
They burst out of the swirling purple fog and back into normal space. The change was so sudden and so complete that for a moment, everyone on the bridge just blinked, stunned.
