The flash of light was a silent explosion that ripped through the air, burning Shane's eyes and leaving his mind blank. It wasn't a fire, but pure energy, cold and bright, that seemed to scream without a sound. He fell to the floor, his ears ringing with an impossibly high-pitched whine. When his vision returned, everything was a fuzzy blur of red and black. The air was thick with the smell of scorched metal and burnt ozone, but the cloying, sickly-sweet scent of the Void was gone.
He blinked, and the blur slowly sharpened into a horrifying picture. The engineering bay was a mess of melted consoles and sparking wires. The massive console with the shadowy eye was now a smoking, useless wreck, a testament to his desperate act. He had done it. He had closed the portal. The corrupted crew were gone, unmade by the violent burst of energy. For a fleeting moment, a feeling of pure, exhausted triumph washed over him.
But the feeling was quickly replaced by something else. A profound, bone-deep emptiness. He couldn't remember his own name for a second. His mind felt like a house with a missing wall, open to the cold, cosmic wind. A piece of him had been torn out in the blast, a part of his soul sacrificed to close the door.
He looked down at his arm. A pattern was spreading just beneath the surface of his skin, a faint, dark ripple that looked like a tiny, twisting galaxy. It didn't hurt. It just... was. It was a sign, a brand, a mark of the enemy he had touched. He wasn't just a scientist who had fought the Void; he was a part of it now.
And then, he heard it again. Not in his ears, but in his mind. The voice of the Void was no longer a separate, distant whisper. It was a faint, constant hum, a part of his own thoughts, like a second, unwanted consciousness living inside his head.
"You broke our portal," the thought-voice said, its tone a new kind of cold contempt. "But you took us in. You are one of us now."
A wave of pure terror, colder and more terrifying than the physical fear of a moment ago, washed over Shane. He had won a battle, but he had lost himself. The enemy wasn't just on the ship anymore; it was inside his own head, a permanent passenger in his thoughts.
He scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. He had to get out. The engineering bay was a death trap. He stumbled through the wreckage, past melted machinery and grotesque growths. The ship was still alive, but it was sick, and the sickness was spreading. He had to find a working comms terminal, any terminal. He had to warn someone.
He found a small, old maintenance closet, its door barely holding against the warping of the ship. Inside, a single, battered comms terminal still sparked with a faint, hopeful light. He slammed his hand against the console, bringing it to life. He chose a secure channel, the one he had used to contact Lyra.
The screen flickered, and Commander Voss's face appeared. He looked aged, exhausted, and utterly terrified. The bridge behind him was in ruins. Consoles were smashed, and the crew were huddled together, staring at the main view screen. The fear on Voss's face was a mirror of Shane's own.
"Dr. Pierre?" Voss said, his voice raspy with disbelief. "Are you… are you alright? What was that blast? The entire ship shook, and the… the creatures… they just vanished."
Shane felt a strange calm settle over him. He was no longer just a terrified scientist. He was a survivor, a witness. He was a messenger of a new, terrible truth. He took a deep breath.
"Commander, it wasn't a blast," Shane said, his voice surprisingly steady. "It was an unmaking. I had to... I had to overload the main console. It was a gateway. It wasn't a machine, Commander. It was the Void."
Voss's eyes went wide. He said nothing. He simply stared at Shane, a man who had seen an impossible horror and lived to tell the tale.
"Lyra... the others… they're gone," Shane continued. "They were taken. Corrupted. The Void isn't just an enemy. It's a presence. It's a consciousness, a living thing. And it's inside the ship. It's everywhere."
Voss finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. "Then what do we do? We can't run. We can't hide. It's too big, and it's here."
Shane's mind, a part of it now his own and a part of it the Void's, gave him an answer. It was a terrible, beautiful truth.
"We can't fight it," Shane said. "But we can break it. The ship has a core reactor, a last resort. If we detonate it, we can destroy The Supreme. We can stop the Void's spread."
Voss looked at him, his face a mask of shock and understanding. It was a suicide mission. But it was their only option. It was a way to win by losing.
"It will be an honour, Doctor," Voss said, a grim sort of determination on his face. "Tell me where to go."
Shane nodded, and a single, terrifying thought echoed in his mind, his own voice and the Void's, perfectly in sync.
"What is the price of resistance?" the voice asked.
And another part of Shane, a new, cold part, answered.
"Everything."