Hao stared up at the sky—if you could even call it that. It pulsed gently like a translucent membrane, tinged with purple and amber veins that glowed faintly with every heartbeat of the world. A low, distant hum echoed through the air, rhythmic and hypnotic.
"I am definitely not on vacation," he muttered, brushing off what he prayed was just dirt clinging to his hoodie. It was not. It was moving.
He yelped, shook his arm violently, and the small beetle-like creature tumbled off with a disgruntled squeak before clicking away on six spindly legs.
The terrain around him was unsettlingly organic. It wasn't rock or dirt beneath his shoes, but something that resembled hardened carapace—smooth in some places, jagged in others. Gigantic stalks rose from the ground like twisted trees, each one blooming with iridescent sacs or drooping antenna-like fronds. The air reeked faintly of molasses and blood.
Something chittered in the distance. Something big.
