The coffin was humming.
That was Ember's first thought. Not cryopod. Not life-support capsule. A coffin.
Cold glass hovered an inch from her face, filled with drifting blue symbols she didn't recognize. Her reflection stared back—silver-white hair, amber eyes, a face sharper than she remembered. Someone had turned up the resolution on her soul.
> SYSTEM NOTICE:
Avatar Synchronization – 98%
Neural Anchor – Stable
Location: UNREGISTERED SECTOR
"Unregistered… what?" she whispered.
She tried to sit up. The coffin refused. Her hands pressed against the glass, cold and smooth, like ice against skin. She pushed again—and the coffin shuddered. A hiss of air echoed through the chamber as the glass lifted just enough for her to roll out.
The floor was cold. Metallic. Smelled faintly of ozone and… cinnamon? Ember wrinkled her nose. Not that it mattered. She was alive. Or at least, she was awake.
Memories came in the wrong order.
Coffee that tasted like burnt office sludge.
The VR headset promo she'd signed up to test.
Clicking "Accept" without reading the warning.
And then… nothing.
She staggered to her feet. A dark flight suit clung to her body, complete with a utility belt full of devices she didn't recognize. Her jacket had padded shoulders and hidden compartments—military-grade tech, but modified, elegant. She flexed her fingers. They felt… real. Solid. Strong.
Across the room stretched a starship bridge. Not a hologram, not a menu screen. A real bridge.
It was impossible.
Panels flickered with light. Consoles hummed. Screens showed planets, stations, and a nebula of purple and blue clouds stretching into infinity. One display pulsed:
> WELCOME BACK, CAPTAIN EMBER VALE
"Back?" Ember murmured. "I've never been here."
Her eyes scanned the viewports. Stars streaked past in distant hyperspace corridors. Ships moved like schools of metallic fish. A planet burned gold and red in the distance, its surface scarred by massive explosions. Floating debris glinted like shattered gemstones.
And somewhere out there, Earth waited. She didn't know where, or if it even still existed.
Another console blinked:
> LAST LOG: OBJECTIVE – LOCATE EARTH
Her stomach dropped. Locate Earth? Her mind whirled. Memories of her old life—of office work, bland coffee, late nights, and VR games—collided with the impossible reality. She had woken up inside her game avatar, in a galaxy that wasn't hers, carrying a ship that seemed alive.
A proximity alarm screamed.
External cameras flared. A gunship, scarred and patched together from different wrecks, had docked without permission. Life signs registered:
> BELL – HOSTILE INTENT: HIGH
The door to the bridge exploded inward. Smoke poured out. And then she saw her: a girl with crimson hair tied in a high ponytail, holding a plasma rifle in one hand, grinning like she'd just found a new toy.
"Nice ship," the stranger said, stepping forward. "It's mine now."
Ember's heartbeat quickened. She had seconds—maybe less. She reached for the ship's console and found a secondary control, a pulse emitter. A quick tap and the lights flickered. Bell's eyes narrowed.
"Who—what—are you?" the girl demanded.
"I'm Ember," she said. "And I'm asking nicely: don't touch my ship. Or my ramen."
Bell froze.
Ramen.
Ember cursed under her breath. It sounded ridiculous. But it worked. That tiny hesitation gave her the edge she needed.
She ducked behind a console, firing a small pulse from the panel. Sparks flew. Bell jumped back, glancing around as if suddenly realizing Ember wasn't helpless.
"You're… fast," Bell said, smirking. "Not bad for a newbie."
"I'm not a newbie," Ember replied, stepping into the center of the bridge, her voice steady. "I'm dangerous if you waste my time."
The mercenary tilted her head. "Interesting… I like that."
The tension hung like electricity. Then Bell laughed. A sharp, almost feral sound that made Ember's stomach twist. "Alright, Ember. Let's see if you're worth my time."
And just like that, the universe had changed.
Ember didn't know it yet, but Bell was more than a threat. She would become the first person to save her life—and the first person who would never let her go.
Ember looked around the bridge. Consoles glowed with unknown alien languages. A holographic map hovered above the main console, displaying dozens of systems she didn't recognize. Ships, stations, and planets—all waiting for her to explore, conquer, or survive.
Her hands clenched. She had a plan: survive. Adapt. And one day… find her home.
Somewhere in the distance, Earth waited. Somewhere in this galaxy of thieves, war machines, and psionics, the truth of her arrival would reveal itself.
But for now, Ember Vale was alone, awake, and armed. And this galaxy would learn quickly: you don't toy with someone who remembers what Earth has forgotten.