Ellara tapped twice on the side of her helmet, activating the magnetic boots embedded in her pressure suit. A faint hum resonated as the soles made contact with the metal steps, leaving behind faint blue ion trails on the scorched rock. She carefully avoided areas still radiating heat — their infrared signatures flared orange-yellow on her visor display. **"Detecting radiation leakage from the hull,"** Saint Dove Core's voice accompanied a stream of data flickering at the edge of her vision. **"Recommend entering through the third airlock — its shielding damage is minimal."** As she approached the wreck, thermal imaging showed surface temperatures still hovering near **600°C**. Ellara reached into her belt pouch and released a capsule of nano-miner robots onto the rusted hatch. The tiny machines swarmed like insects, chewing through oxidized plating and etching handholds along the frame. When the seventh grip formed, the door suddenly collapsed inward, releasing a gust of stale air thick with metallic decay. She raised the wrist-mounted spotlight. As the beam pierced the darkness, dozens of tiny reflections shimmered across the walls — droplets of mercury, long trapped in the ship's piping, now seeping out due to the sudden pressure shift. The silver beads rolled slowly down the sloped deck like living things. Ellara sidestepped carefully, her magnetic boots sparking against the slick metal floor. The main corridor was pierced by strange black crystals — prismatic formations jutting from ceiling to floor like an eerie forest of stone spears. When she touched one with her scanner, the crystal pulsed red from within, sending a sharp vibration up the device — and straight into the neural interface of her glove. **"Mutated variant of blackstone cores,"** Saint Dove Core analyzed rapidly. **"Contains trace amounts of Time Shard residue. This vessel may have passed through a temporal rift."** Beyond the crystalline thicket, a blast door stood partially open. Ellara used a hydraulic spreader to widen the gap — the screech of stressed metal echoed unnaturally in the enclosed space. On the other side lay the bridge. Equipment remained surprisingly intact, though every console was coated in a pearly nacre-like film — a known result of prolonged exposure to spacetime radiation. At the center of the room sat a desiccated corpse in a half-melted chair. The uniform bore faded insignia of **Kuki Industries**, but what truly drew her attention was the object clutched in its skeletal fingers — a sharply defined black cube, engraved with the same geometric patterns found on the spiral staircase. As Ellara stepped closer, the cube lifted into the air — and projected a holographic image. In the recording, the Phantom-class cruiser was seen passing through a massive Corridor. Suddenly, violent tremors shook the ship. A translucent black substance oozed from the bulkheads, consuming the crew in seconds. The final scene froze on the captain inserting the cube into the central console — the bridge then vanished in a wave of violet light. **"Warning! Spacetime fluctuations detected!"** Saint Dove Core's alarm blared. Ellara spun around. The black crystals were growing — visibly, *rapidly*. One had already extended toward her oxygen hose. She yanked out the ion cutter, slashing at the nearest growth. The plasma blade left only a shallow burn mark before being absorbed. A sound like shattering glass echoed from deeper within the crystal cluster. Black mist began seeping from the cracks. Ellara grabbed the cube, shoved it into her belt pouch, and sprinted for the nearest emergency exit. As she kicked open the airlock hatch, a shriek of tortured metal rang behind her — the crystals had pierced the ship's skeleton. The entire wreck groaned, beginning to disintegrate beneath the molten earth. *Night Falcon* hovered just twenty meters away — but between them stretched a boiling pool of sulfuric acid. Her visor flashed a low-oxygen warning. Ellara took a deep breath, engaging the suit's emergency thrusters. Nitrogen jets propelled her over the cauldron, the heat melting the sole of her boot. She practically crashed into the cockpit, her right arm bruised from slamming the control stick. As *Night Falcon* ascended sharply, she watched the canyon collapse behind her. The Phantom-class wreck disappeared under a wave of magma, leaving only a few large bubbles on the lava's surface. The cube vibrated softly in the co-pilot seat. Ellara studied its shifting engravings — unmistakably forming the coordinates of the **Wastes of Time**. Alongside them, a sequence of numbers ticked downward in real time… A countdown.
