The planet they had chosen for their quiet retirement was called Haven. It was a simple name for a simple, beautiful world. Life here was measured in sunrises and tides, not in galactic crises and countdown timers.
For Ryan and Scarlett, after a lifetime of noise, the quiet was the most beautiful music they had ever heard.
This particular morning, a new and terrifying sound was echoing from their small, simple house by the sea. It was the sound of a smoke alarm, screaming as if it were being murdered.
Ryan, the man who had once held the power of a god, stood in the kitchen, surrounded by a cloud of black smoke. He was at war with a pancake.
And the pancake was winning. He held a spatula in his hand like a weapon, looking down at the smoking, black disc in the pan with a look of pure, baffled defeat.
"I don't understand," he said, poking the charcoal-like object. "The instructions seemed so simple."
