Today, in the heart of a small island battered by salty winds and ceaseless waves, a rare celebration dawns. Faces that often carry the weight of hardship are now bright with a recognizable happiness—a light reflected in their eyes like the sun's gentle kiss on the ocean. The air, usually thick with the sharp tang of salt, feels softened, as if even nature has paused to honor the day. The island's leader stands before the gathering, voice steady and clear, urging all to share their blessings with Payal, the bride.
"Today, we honor Payal, the first human from our island to marry someone from the planet Shirow," the leader intones, pride and hope threading through every word. "This union is a blessing not only for her but for all of us. May your path be filled with happiness and strength, Payal. Our hearts and blessings go with you."
As whispers of congratulations float on the breeze, Payal's own world feels fragmented—moments fluttering in and out of focus like broken glass. Just a short while ago, she smiled without restraint, the sheer joy of the occasion lighting her face from within. Now, beneath that smile, a storm of disbelief rages. She cannot quite grasp that her life is shifting irrevocably; in mere hours, she will be sent far beyond the tiny island to a strange world. A place she knows only by whispered stories—the distant planet Shirow.
The weight of her reality presses down on her chest. There is no choice, no doorway to refusal. Running is a dream she can no longer afford, her feet bound by the limits of the island and the ocean stretching endlessly beyond. Here on Earth, once a vibrant planet adored across the galaxy, life has withered. The Earth she remembers—from stories told by elders—is a legend of lush green forests, towering skyscrapers, and endless innovation. It was a place where humans thrived alongside animals, where clear rivers sang through fertile lands, and the air was clean and sweet.
Now, Earth is fractured into isolated islands, like shards of a broken mirror scattered across a vast ocean. Communication between these fragments is lost; they are islands in every sense—disconnected and vulnerable. Echoes of its former glory remain only in faded memories. Technology has been reduced to relics buried beneath dust; the brilliance of human architecture and science has crumbled into ruins. The soil, once rich and inviting, grows harder with each passing season. With each day, humans lose more of themselves, slipping deeper into a primal existence where survival comes at the expense of hope.
Few remain—just over a thousand souls eking out a fragile existence. Each day blurs into the next: scavenging for food, sheltering from storms, and wrestling with the quiet despair of uncertainty. The islanders live crowded lives, cooped like hens waiting for a fate they don't control.
Suddenly, the distant cry of a child pierces the air.
"Mom! Mom, look! A spaceship!" young Henry shouts, pointing toward the sky with wide, unblinking eyes.
His mother, lips pressed tight with weariness, barely looks up. "Henry, I'm working. Go play with your friends," she replies gently but firmly, nudging him toward the cluster of children trying to find moments of laughter in a harsh world.
But then, the shadows lengthen, and an enormous silhouette blankets the island. Heads turn skyward as the first spaceship ever seen here descends. It glides with mechanical grace—its wings wide and gleaming, jet propellers humming powerfully, a chrome exterior shining under the sinking sun like a foreign star come to rest among them.
The awe-struck crowd watches as the ship's lights dim and it takes flight again, disappearing into the darkening sky, leaving behind a veil of silent questions and a stirring in hearts long accustomed to sameness.
Flashback — A Prison of Chains and Darkness
Far from the celebration, in a damp, shadowed room, a woman lies sleeping on a cold, cracked floor. Her limbs are bound tightly in heavy chains; the air is thick with mold and decay. The faint light filtering in does little to dispel the stifling gloom.
Her eyes snap open, wide with shock and fury. The harsh reality of her captivity crashes over her, freezing her breath and filling her lungs with a scream—raw, fierce, and desperate. She is a stranger here, caught in a nightmare that threatens to swallow her whole.
Where am I what's happening with me and why I am tied in iorn chains , why here is so much darkness, there so many questions ariseing in her head , but her body is too weak to move, her head felt heavy. she don't have any energy to move her body she try to lift her hand. Her body sweating profusely , in darkness she couldn't see anything but she could feel what is happening with her body, And she fainted .
Where am I? What is happening to me? Why am I tied in iron chains? Why is it so dark?
These questions swarm her mind, but her body is too weak to move. Her head feels heavy, clouded with exhaustion. She wants to lift her hand, but every part of her aches and refuses to obey. Sweat pours down her skin, dampening the rough fabric that binds her. Though darkness envelopes her, she can feel the weight of her own body. Slowly, with no strength left, she drifts into unconsciousness.
Outside, the island buzzes with excitement. The arrival of the spaceship is the chance of a lifetime—an opportunity to escape the harsh, unforgiving land they call home. The ship is enormous, its length blotting out half of the sun, its surface gleaming with a unique pattern symbolizing royalty. None on the island have ever seen its like.
As the ship hovers, its doors slowly slide open, spilling a soft, sparkling light onto the gathering crowd. Suddenly, a figure steps forward.
He looks ordinary at first glance—no fantastical features or alien shapes. Yet, if one watches closely, a powerful presence radiates from him. He commands attention without speaking.
"Greetings," his voice echoes with calm authority. "I come from the distant planet Shirow. I am here in search of brides for our three princes. Cooperation will benefit us both. Thank you."
From the crowd, a man steps forward—leader of the islanders. His name is Therow. The people blindly follow his every word.
"I am Therow," he says, bowing slightly. "I can help you find what you seek, but... in return, I ask for one thing. Take us to your planet, provide us with settlers. If you agree, we have nothing to discuss further." His smile is wide, hopeful, masking the tension beneath.
"Show us the girls," the visitor requests.
Therow gathers the six young women remaining on the island—the last hope, as most have already been promised or lost. But disappointment crosses the visitor's face. "None here match what we need." The visitor bows, his tone polite but final. "Thank you for your cooperation."
As he steps back, his cheerful facade instantly crumbles.
Suddenly, a distant cry cuts through the air—painful, desperate. Therow freezes, a strange electric thrill surging through him.
"Excuse me, sir, you're heading the wrong way."
Ignoring the voice at first, curiosity finally pulls him in its direction.
Back in the dark room, the woman lies still, her breath the only sound. Long moments pass before her eyes flutter open again. The darkness blurs and blends, but there is an odd comfort in the shadows. It feels like a dream—a place where worries fade and sadness dissolves.
She wants to believe it's a new beginning. A chance to live, to explore beyond the limits of her harsh reality. Laughter bubbles up from deep inside her—wild, free, unrestrained. She knows she sounds foolish, but in this moment, she welcomes the madness. She is alive, and that is enough.
Suddenly, a crack—the door creaks open just a sliver. A cool breeze and a ray of sunlight spill into the room, casting golden light over her tangled hair and glowing brown skin. Her face brightens with warmth, her beauty undeniable even in captivity.
The light stings her eyes, and her hair obscures her view. She cannot see clearly who approaches.
Slow footsteps echo gently against the cold floor. The figure draws nearer, drawn by the haunting sound of her laughter.
When the door fully opens, the man freezes. Before him is the girl—tied in chains, her clothes torn but modestly covered. Her hair hides much of her face, yet something about her is unmistakable.
His hand rises slowly, brushing the hair from her forehead with surprising tenderness.
"So, it is you," he breathes, repeating the words as if to convince himself. "The one I have been searching for."
With a smile both proud and sly, he touches a small device behind his ear. "I've found her. I am returning to my lord."