September 17, 2042
After the total collapse of human civilization, a cascade of catastrophes, such as climate crisis, global war, rampant pandemics, unending volcanic eruptions, and rogue technology, drove humanity and countless other species to the brink of extinction.
Within decades, the planet was left scarred, its surface growing ever closer to a final, eternal silence.
Fewer than a billion humans remained scattered across the Earth, and millions more died each day.
Advances in science and medicine brought the survivors only a fragile reprieve.
A final generation of vaccines shielded them from the mutations ravaging most lifeforms.
But immunity was not salvation.
With no sustainable food production, no functioning nations, and no global infrastructure, the human population continued to dwindle.
Shelters turned into battlegrounds, and only those who secured refuge within the last green bastions, such as protected biodomes or fortress-strongholds, stood any real chance.
The rest perished in the savage wild.
Faced with the inevitability of extinction, a desperate faction of scientists and leaders turned away from the failed dream of space.
The stars were out of reach; fuel was scarce, and manpower was even scarcer.
Earth had become a tomb with a ticking clock.
Within a decade, projections showed that everything would die off for good.
Thus began Project Aethergate. For some, it was the last hope.
For others, it was humanity's best chance for survival.
The project's origin lay in the shadows of the last world war, where weapons of unimaginable scale had been tested in secret.
One such weapon, built on experimental dark matter principles, malfunctioned. Instead of destroying, it opened something.
A gate.
Where the device ended up is unknown, but what it left behind became the most heavily quarantined discovery in human history.
It was a phenomenon that defied physics and promised a future if it could be controlled.
Now, years later, the surviving minds of humanity poured their last resources into studying it.
The portal was unstable and dangerous, but on the other side, there might be a world untouched by Earth's collapse.
That was where Dr. Morluw hoped to lead humanity.
To a second chance at a proper life.
He knew the dangers.
The calculations were impossible to perfect, and the system never stopped warning him.
Alarms blared, screens flashed, and the console beeped in sharp, anxious intervals.
One red flag after another appeared before him.
[DIMENSIONAL STABILITY: UNACCEPTABLE][ENERGY SURGE DETECTED][CONTAINMENT BREACH RISK: 97%]
Still, he pressed forward.
There was no alternative.
Earth was all but finished. He and everyone else were living on borrowed time, one step closer to total destruction every day.
A few warnings meant nothing compared to extinction.
He had already opened seven gates, each leading to an unknown world.
None of the creatures sent through had ever returned.
But the seventh gave him something else.
A miracle.
Long strands of grass.
Lush, bright green, and unlike anything left on Earth, full of vitality.
Its cellular structure confirmed it was a foreign species, yet close enough to photosynthesize and serve as a source of sustainable life.
There was hope once again.
Today would be the final test and the last attempt.
His dark matter reserves were gone, burned through in previous openings.
The facility's fuel was nearly depleted.
One more activation, and the station would go dark for good.
So he ignored the many warnings.
All of them.
There was only one thing left to do.
Press the button.
Just one push, and the world might change forever.
He stood still for a moment, sweat on his brow, heart thudding like a war drum. If this failed, he would be the man who ended humanity. If it worked, he might be the one who saved it.
It felt like flipping a coin.
He glanced at the clock. He wanted it to happen exactly at noon.
"Three… two… one…"
Click.
The world trembled.
What he had triggered was not a single portal but a global chain reaction.
He had programmed Aethergate to open across the planet, warping space in dozens of zones at once.
The destinations were unknown.
But he hoped, prayed, that at least some would lead to safety.
To fresh skies.
To grass, endless fields of lush green grass.
He slung on his backpack, took up the suitcase packed with seeds, tools, and essentials to start life anew, and turned toward the fogged mirror of the gate.
His gaze shifted to his team, twelve others in all.
"Well… those who will enter, let's go. We have only a minute at most."
A swirling veil, opaque and silent, waited before them. No one could see what was on the other side.
But they could step through.
He stared into the haze.
"I hope others will also enter the portals… We just didn't have the resources to tell them all," he whispered in quiet lament.
He placed his hand into the portal and felt what seemed like sunlight on his skin. Pulling it back, he saw that nothing about his hand had changed.
"You see? All fine. Now let's hurry."
One by one, they approached the portal.
The swirling fog shifted subtly with each step. The hum of its energy deepened, resonating in their bones.
A faint scent drifted from the other side: fresh rain, warm soil, and something faintly sweet, like blooming flowers.
Dr. Morluw tightened his grip on the suitcase. His heart pounded harder now, not from fear but from sensing life all around them.
He stepped forward.
Light spilled across his vision the moment his body passed the threshold.
The sound of the facility vanished, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of strange birds. The air was warm and wet, filling his lungs in a way Earth's atmosphere no longer could.
When his vision cleared, he stood ankle-deep in grass that swayed under a golden sky.
Mountains rose in the far distance, their peaks crowned in snow; they gleamed in the sun like mirrors in the distance.
Behind him, the others emerged in quick succession, their gasps and exclamations breaking the tranquil silence.
For the first time in years, he smiled.
"We made it."
But then the smile faded.
In the far distance, shadows moved, and large shapes began climbing a nearby ridge.
They weren't alone here.