The stillness was shattered. Not by an alarm or a crash, but by a chilling, simple truth. The star was gone. Swallowed by a patch of perfect blackness. Shane stared at the monitor, his blood turning to ice. The line to Lyra was still dead. It hadn't just been cut—it had been erased, as if it had never existed. He was a scientist, a man who believed in cause and effect. But this was an effect without a cause he could understand. This was something else entirely.
Panic, cold and sharp, cut through him. He had to get to the bridge. He had to warn Commander Voss. He knew the commander would not believe him. Voss trusted his instruments, and his instruments would show nothing. But Shane couldn't just stand there and wait to be swallowed.
He burst from the lab, the automatic doors sliding shut with a hiss behind him. The ship's long, empty corridors stretched out like endless gray tunnels. Lights flickered overhead, not in a pattern of a power surge, but randomly, like a scared heartbeat. Shadows danced along the walls. The air, normally clean and regulated, felt thick and heavy, carrying a faint, sickly-sweet scent he couldn't place.
A low, guttural moan echoed from a side corridor. Shane froze, his hand on the wall, his own breath loud in his ears. It wasn't the sound of a human. He crept forward, peeking around the corner. A crew member, a technician named Jax, was on his hands and knees. But something was wrong. His spine was bent at a twisted, unnatural angle, and his limbs moved with a twitching, insect-like motion. As he moaned, dark, viscous liquid seeped from his eyes, a grim mockery of tears.
Shane's stomach twisted. This wasn't a disease. It was a change. A fundamental re-shaping. The sight was a punch to the gut. The horror of it was not just the physical change, but the emptiness in Jax's eyes. The person was gone, replaced by something else. Shane knew he couldn't help him. He had to keep moving. He backed away slowly, silently, and broke into a desperate run down the main corridor, the terrible moans echoing behind him.
He ran harder than he ever had in his life, his heart pounding a frantic drum against his ribs. The ark felt alive now, but not in a good way. The metal walls seemed to shiver. He reached the heavy blast doors of the command deck and slammed his hand against the console. The doors slid open with a deep, echoing groan.
Inside, the bridge was calm. The familiar hum of the instruments was a welcome sound, a sign of order in a world gone mad. Commander Voss stood at the central console, his back to Shane, his hands clasped behind his back. He was a rock of a man, solid and unyielding.
"Commander Voss!" Shane gasped, out of breath. "You have to listen to me. The Void... it's a presence. It's not empty space. It ate a star, and it's coming here."
Voss turned, his face calm but his eyes tired. "Dr. Pierre, your stress levels are off the charts. My instruments show nothing out of the ordinary. The Perseus Anomaly is a non-threat. You need to return to your quarters and rest."
"You don't understand!" Shane insisted, his voice rising. "I saw it. I saw it on the live feed. It's a dark spot, a hole in reality. It's not on your sensors because it's not physical. Lyra felt it. It's taking over people's minds, it's twisting them into..." He trailed off, the memory of Jax a fresh wound in his mind.
Voss's voice was firm. "Dr. Pierre, your behavior is erratic. I'm having you escorted--"
Suddenly, a loud, piercing crackle shot through the bridge. The lights flickered and then died completely, plunging the room into darkness. The emergency lights bathed everything in a stark red glow, turning the faces of the crew into masks of shock.
A deep, bone-vibrating sound, like a colossal, grinding cough, filled the bridge. It wasn't an alarm. It was coming from outside the ship. One of the main view screens flickered on, showing the vast blackness of space.
But the blackness was no longer empty. A shadow, impossibly vast and formless, had blotted out entire galaxies. It was a blackness that seemed to suck in the light around it, its edges not sharp but a hazy, undulating ripple. It was the same spot Shane had seen, only now it was so close that it filled the screen. It was not a void. It was a mouth, a cosmic predator, and it was moving towards them.
For the first time, Commander Voss's face showed true, unadulterated fear. His eyes were wide, and his jaw was slack. His voice was a thin, shaky whisper.
"What is that?"
Shane just stared at the screen, a new kind of terror settling in his bones. It was a hunter. And they were the prey.