The universe vanished.
For a heartbeat, there was no up, no down, no ship—just a crushing silence and a flood of light that burned against Kaelen's eyes. He gasped, clutching the console, convinced his body was being ripped apart molecule by molecule.
Then it ended.
The ship slammed back into existence, shuddering violently as if it had been spat out of reality itself. The alarms fell silent, leaving only the ragged breaths of the two souls aboard.
Outside the viewport, the stars were… wrong.
They hung in clusters he didn't recognize, vast nebulas glowing with colors that had no names, shifting like living things. A massive structure loomed ahead, suspended in the void—a colossal ring, miles across, carved from black stone that shimmered with alien glyphs.
Kaelen's throat tightened. His obsession, his years of exile, the ridicule—everything had been leading to this. Proof. Undeniable proof.
Lyra, however, wasn't staring in awe. Her hand hovered over the weapon controls, every muscle tense. "That… doesn't look abandoned."
As if answering her, faint lights flickered across the ring. Lines of energy coursed through its surface, awakening, responding to their intrusion.
Kaelen's pulse hammered in his ears. "It's reacting to the crystal."
The shard in his hand glowed brighter, its pulse synced with the alien construct.
Lyra swore under her breath. "Congratulations, Doctor. You just knocked on someone's front door."
Before Kaelen could reply, the ship lurched. Gravity—or something like it—pulled them toward the ring. Alarms blared again, warning of systems being overridden.
Kaelen's voice shook. "It's dragging us in!"
Lyra fought the controls, her jaw clenched. "I don't lose control of my ship—"
But she did. The vessel was no longer flying; it was being claimed.
The black stone surface split open, revealing a yawning corridor of light. Their ship was pulled through, swallowed whole, until the stars were gone, and only silence remained.
Inside, the corridor stretched endlessly, lit by a cold, alien glow. Symbols drifted like mist across the walls, rearranging themselves as though reading the minds of their captives.
Kaelen's breath came in shallow bursts, awe battling terror. "Do you see this? This is technology older than humanity itself."
Lyra's knuckles were white on the throttle. Her eyes never left the corridor ahead. "You're not scared enough."
Suddenly, the lights flickered—and everything went dark.
For an instant, the ship was a coffin adrift in void. Then, from the shadows outside, a shape moved.
Something vast. Something watching.
Kaelen's skin crawled. He couldn't see its form, only the impression of size—too large, too close.
The ship's systems crackled, and a voice whispered through the static. Not human. Not mechanical. A thousand tones braided into one, like a choir speaking inside his skull:
"You are not the first."
Kaelen froze, heart pounding, every instinct screaming at him to run where there was no place to run.
Lyra slowly turned to him, her voice low, trembling with something that wasn't fear, but anger.
"What the hell did you just drag me into, Doctor?"
Kaelen had no answer.
And outside, in the dark, the presence pressed closer.