Day 22
Dawn crawled across the alien sky, casting golden-pink light over the twisted branches and fractured ruins. The jungle slept uneasily, and for a few brief hours, so did the survivors. Only four remained.
The sky above shifted slowly from lavender to gold, touched by the glow of twin stars rising side by side. Three moons still hovered high—red, silver, and green—drifting slowly westward like silent sentinels. Auroras flickered faintly overhead, fading as the morning light grew. Floating crystals caught the twin sunbeams and scattered prismatic rays down onto the canopy, making the jungle shimmer like a waking dream.
Lior sat hunched near the remains of their fire pit, watching the embers die with the same silent dread she'd felt every morning. Haren was gone. Kael was gone. Rul, Senn, even Dr. Vema—all names now etched in memory, their faces shadows. Only four remained: Lior, medic and analyst; Berek, the sharp-eyed scout; Eysa, the quiet xenobotanist; and Erol, the weapons tech who never stopped talking… until now.
The ruins they camped in had once been part of a temple or observatory. Cracked stone slabs jutted from the ground like broken teeth, and moss bloomed across every surface. Some walls still hummed faintly, glowing with hidden glyphs that reacted to movement. Vines hung like curtains, their tips trailing bioluminescent droplets that shifted color with each breath of wind. No one dared touch the structures anymore. They didn't know what they triggered last time—only that the light had attracted beasts, not answers.
The sun rose pale now, as if mourning.
Lior stood and took a slow breath. "We need to move," she said softly. "Today."
Berek glanced up, his one working eye bloodshot. "Why not just wait for them to come? They always do."
"Because we can't keep playing dead," Eysa replied, gathering her remaining samples. "If they're intelligent, maybe we can reason—"
Erol laughed bitterly. "Reason with what? Something that peeled open Senn's chest like fruit? No thanks."
They argued, not because they disagreed, but because they had to speak. The silence was worse. It fed the jungle. Their voices echoed oddly, as if the forest listened.
Still, by midday, they were moving again. Packs on backs, weapons charged—though they barely worked now. Their path twisted through overgrown trails and ancient stone steps half-swallowed by moss. The ground was soft and damp beneath their boots, covered in glowing fungi that lit up as they passed. The jungle greeted them with oppressive heat and clouds of fluttering insects that buzzed in perfect rhythm. Giant petals curled like mouths, twitching when brushed, and the distant screech of winged things echoed high above.
Lior marked trees as they went, carving symbols they'd created: safe, dangerous, dead-end, hope. Each slash in the bark echoed like a whisper: we are still alive. Each mark was a reminder—to themselves, to each other, and perhaps to the world—that they had not yet given up.
They passed another clearing of bones. Old ones this time—massive, four-legged creatures with skulls shaped like ceratopsians, yet studded with crystalline growths. Dinosaurs… with something more. Alien DNA, Eysa had guessed. This planet was not primal—it was blended. Hybrid life, evolved across millennia. Some bones still pulsed faintly, as if the creatures' essence refused to vanish completely. Strange moss covered their ribs, humming with low tones, like the ground itself was remembering them.
Lior paused there longer than the others. She studied the hollow eye sockets of a skull nearly twice her size. "This one had teeth. Not for grazing."
Erol stood a little farther off, scanning the horizon. "I think they used to rule this world."
"Used to," Berek muttered. "Whatever rules it now… doesn't leave bones."
They stopped when they reached a ridge. Below: a valley veiled in mist. Strange spires rose from the trees—some natural, others clearly shaped by hands. Structures. Habitation. A city?
The mist rolled lazily, and the air buzzed with static, like something powerful slept beneath it.
Hope flared in Lior's chest. "We need to go down."
Berek grabbed her arm. "Wait. Look."
In the clearing below, shapes moved—figures. Tall, upright, walking like bipeds. Scaled skin, glowing patterns, strange tools in hand. Not monsters. Not beasts. People.
Intelligent life.
The wind shifted. The mist parted slightly, allowing them a clearer view. One of the beings stood on a raised platform of black stone, holding something that shimmered—perhaps a staff, or a weapon, or something in between.
Erol nearly dropped his weapon. "They look like… gods."
Eysa was trembling. "This changes everything. We're not alone."
Then one of the creatures turned—and looked directly at them.
Its eyes pulsed with deep violet light.
And it vanished.
"Run!" Berek shouted, grabbing Erol.
They didn't argue. They fled, crashing through roots and brush, the jungle swallowing them in moments. Vines whipped their legs, and glowing spores burst in clouds of amber light as they passed. Thorns grazed their armor, and luminous insects scattered like sparks. They didn't stop until they reached an old outpost drone—long-dead, buried in moss. It offered no protection, but its familiarity was a comfort. They collapsed there, breathless.
The stars shimmered above the canopy as night fell. Moons began their slow crawl overhead. Auroras returned, ghostly and beautiful. Floating crystals drifted between the branches, casting ever-changing shadows.
Lior clutched her journal.
"There is life here. Civilization. We are not the first intelligent species to walk this soil. But are they hunters… or watchers? I want to believe this planet is more than death. That something here can still speak to us. Teach us. But my hands won't stop shaking."
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Day 23
They didn't sleep. Something circled their shelter all night. Footsteps that never drew close. Sounds that never repeated.
By dawn, Erol was gone.
No screams. No trail. Just his pack, neatly placed at the entrance. A single bioluminescent petal lay beside it, still glowing. None of them touched it.
The sky was deep violet now, turning silver at the edges. The jungle glistened with dew that shimmered under the moons' glow. Mist crept along the ground like a living thing. It slithered between roots and stones, curling over boots and disappearing under cover. The world felt like it was holding its breath.
Berek stopped speaking after that. His silence became a weight, dragging every step. His eyes searched constantly, watching shadows even in the daylight.
Eysa began singing under her breath. Simple melodies. No lyrics. Fragments of lullabies from home. Her voice echoed strangely, caught by the jungle's geometry and carried farther than it should. Sometimes the air itself seemed to hum in answer.
They moved slower. Weaker. Each kilometer felt like ten. Time twisted around them—one moment bright, the next swallowed in fog.
By evening, they reached the edge of a strange basin filled with bioluminescent plants. Massive blossoms opened as they stepped near, casting soft glows over their faces. Blue light lapped at their ankles. The air smelled sweet and cold, like wind from a deep cave. Small creatures moved between the flowers, too quick to see clearly—just flickers of light and movement.
Lior collapsed beside a glowing tree, her body too weak to argue with exhaustion. Her skin was marked with scratches, and her hands trembled from more than just fatigue. Eysa sat beside her, not speaking, just watching the lights sway like fire spirits in the underbrush.
As Lior closed her eyes, she heard Berek finally whisper:
"We're not survivors. We're stories waiting to end."
No one replied.
The stars brightened above, and the jungle swallowed the night again.