Year: 2327, Time: 7:23 UTC
The sun hung low on Ranch 7, long shadows stretching over the blood-streaked sand. The recycling of air echoed in Aria Venn's ear as she crouched behind the rusted shell of a transport van, her breathing thin and regular. She was in a hunt.
Somewhere, Korr'Vex sat in his observation chamber above them, waiting for them to fail. But this time, it wasn't just a run to escape; they were sprinting towards freedom.
Two hours into their run, Aria sprinted across detached ground, loose earth giving way under her boots as dust billowed around. She pushed on, staring ahead into the distance and freedom. Over her shoulder came the triumphant scream of a Vexari spear.
Korr'Vex had unleashed his soul weapon—a lethal spear that split into five precise, unforgiving projectiles, each unyielding to ensnare its target.
Aria glanced back just as a spear tore through her side. Another followed, then another, until a relentless barrage drove deep into her flesh and into the ground. The spears had prevented her fall. The cacophony of the Hunt swallowed her scream. Her mouth fills with blood, followed by every other part of her.
From afar, Thomas's voice pierced her thoughts, raw and desperate, echoing through the valley.
"ARIA!!!!"
Year: 2321, Time: 8:15 UTC. Six years before the second escape.
"Man is but a forgotten pigment in the endless expansion of the universe. Yet on this tiny pebble he calls home—Earth, he calls it—he reigns supreme. But what if he wakes up one day, no longer atop the food chain? What then? What then indeed... Oh, I know. He is prey..."- Author
The sky above Ranch Seven split, clouds parting as if to give way for something. Twelve chambers, black as obsidian, streaked fire across the horizon. They moved in unison, headed in the same direction, before slamming into the ground one after another.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM—twelve times.
The sound rolled across the wasteland like the footsteps of a giant beast, each impact rattling the bones of the earth. Dust rose in choking curtains, and when it cleared, the pods stood scattered but within proximity to a large building—silent, steaming, waiting.
Hisses broke the stillness. Metal groaned as the first chamber unlocked. Then another. One by one, doors unsealed with a scream of hydraulics, exhaling plumes of mist that coiled like ghosts into the air.
Besides being made from obsidian, the pods were built with technology that completely absorbed and eliminated any impact. The runners felt nothing—besides waking. The mist contained a substance that pulled them out of their deep slumber.
Figures stumbled out. Twelve humans, disoriented, their bodies clad in unfamiliar combat suits of grey. Loose in form, yet tailored with uncanny precision. Sleeveless vests, thick in texture, clung tightly to their bodies to suggest structure without restriction. Reinforced padding bulged subtly at the knees and elbows.
Their boots were matte black, mid-calf height, molded to the comfort of each foot. No laces. No seams. Just a seamless shell that flexed with each uncertain step. And though none carried weapons, the uniform itself felt designed for survival.
The ground beneath their boots felt wrong—unknown. They blinked against the bleached light, trying to focus. Their eyes adjusted slowly, but their minds reeled.
Silence hung heavy between them.
Then, out of curiosity and uneasiness, they began to ask one another:
"Who are you?!"
"Where am I?!"
"How did I get here?!"
But no one knew the answers, because they all had the same questions.
Each remembered only the last thing they had been doing before waking in this place. For some, it was their jobs, others with family, and some surrounded by social excitement.
As their eyes began to clear, though still hazed, they stared at the pods.
"Did we come out of those things?" Some thought it to themselves, others spoke it aloud.
Suddenly, fear and emotion overwhelmed them. A woman clutched her vest, her voice trembling.
"Were we abducted? Oh God… I think we've been abducted. This—this place feels wrong. Are we even on Earth?"
They turned to look around, still in discomfort, heads spinning with confusion and terror. The surroundings shifted with their gaze. Some shielded their eyes from the brightness of the sky.
Remnants of an old ruined city were everywhere, some half-buried in the ground. Short and tall trees grew between them. Low-slope hills lingered in the distance. The ground was dotted with both dry and fresh bushes, some dusty and barren—especially near the base.
Then a tall man slowly squatted, arms resting on his knees.
"I was just at my desk. Typing. I remember the sound of my keyboard. Then… nothing."
Another dropped to her knees, fists clenched in the dust.
"I was holding my daughter. I was holding her. Her smile… Why can't I feel her anymore?"
Instinct—or maybe fear—drew them toward the only landmark: a massive building before them, its face scarred by age and war. Its steel doors stood open, as if the grounds themselves were inviting them to enter, but no one dared to step inside.
"Are we supposed to enter?" a woman asked the group.
"We do not even know where we are," said another.
One silently concluded that the place had endured war or something close. It was just a thought, and he did not say it—words without proof were not worth sharing.
The building was two stories high. It resembled an old military base made from concrete, aged but reinforced with something alien. The roof had been replaced with obsidian.
The group began introducing each other. Most spoke in English, while others struggled, desperately trying to be understood. Only their names were exchanged, nothing more. But before they could finish, one began slowly moving toward the building's open entrance.
"This building looks strange. I wouldn't dare enter it. Look! It was already open when we got here. Are you forgetting what we came out of? It's obvious—we were abducted," Kira said.
Kira, in her late twenties, had loose dark brown hair and sharp green eyes. She stood about 5'7", slim yet strong, her features distinctly Caucasian. Her words stopped Jalen in his tracks.
Jalen, somewhere in his early twenties, stood about 5'9" with tousled, dark curls and amber-hazel eyes. His tanned skin and lean, athletic build gave him a restless, wild air.
"You're right. I probably shouldn't," he admitted.
"Mm-hmm! More like shouldn't," she added calmly, her voice gentle but her eyes hard.
Suddenly, another woman broke into a sprint, bolting away from the group.
"Hey! Stop! Where are you going?" voices called after her.
But she wouldn't listen. She knew the stench of danger and did not want to remain there any longer.
The rest continued with introductions, ignoring her departure entirely.
She kept moving at a steady pace, her eyes scanning everything, body tense, anticipating danger. Her careful movements marked her as calculating, a survivor. Then another—a man—started after her.
"Hey, slow down. It's better if we're not alone. Who knows what's out there?" he said in English, his words thick with an accent.
She nodded and slowed enough for him to catch up.
"I'm Kaito," he said, between breaths.
"Amara… Amara Rajput."
She was in her mid twenties and about 5'9", lean and wiry, with long black hair tied in a loose braid. Her bronze-toned skin bore the marks of sun exposure, her sharp dark brown eyes cutting across her surroundings with precision.
"Kaito Shirasawa," he replied, nodding. His messy black bangs fell over his pale forehead, and his narrow, dark grey eyes studied her carefully. About 5'8", slender yet athletic, he gave a small smile. "Nice to meet you."
They moved together, weaving through ruins, leaping over fallen logs, and pushing through low bushes that barely reached their waists. They pressed on for hours until at last they arrived at a massive obsidian wall. It stretched endlessly in both directions, towering high above them. It was clearly built to keep them inside.
Before they could approach too closely, the wall shifted. Segments translated left to right, right to left, up and down. Veins on the surface began to glow, pulsing brighter as though preparing for some kind of attack.
Both halted, staring in shock and confusion.
"Where the hell are we?" Kaito's voice cracked with desperation. "From the looks of it, it feels like Earth—but not any Earth we know. Maybe some kind of military base. Or maybe that woman was right, and we really have been abducted. This wall is too alien to be man-made."
"We shouldn't be here," Amara added softly.
Exhaustion broke through her composure. She suddenly screamed in frustration, crouching and then springing back up. "What the f**k!" she shouted in Hindi. Her chest heaved as she clutched her knees in an effort to calm herself. Her heart pounded wildly, and her vision fogged until her eyes went dazed.
Kaito frowned, wondering if she hadn't fully recovered from the landing.
Then her flashes came.
Her mind ripped open, forcing her back to the deserts of Rajasthan. She was a scavenger, her life nothing but a cycle of search and barter. She remembered the blistering heat, the sting of sand across her skin, the glint of metal buried in the dunes. The memory sharpened—the moment she uncovered a data core. The scream in the wind. The shadows of the Vexari are descending. Blackness is swallowing everything.
"Oh, f**k, what the f**k," she whispered in disbelief, this time in English, her accent breaking through.
"Are you alright?" Kaito asked quickly.
She brushed him off, whispering the names of her friends, refusing to let them die forgotten.
When Kaito approached again, his voice softened. "I'm alright," she insisted.
"What was it?" he asked.
Her eyes glistened with restrained pain. "The aliens. Oh God… my friends."
Amara was inherently rational and emotionally grounded. She made decisions quickly, then acted. Even now, she forced herself to come to terms with her situation, though it sickened her. She prayed she would never see her friends here—not here, not in this place. This place was about to become hell.
Any intelligent person could have drawn the same conclusion.
Suddenly, Kaito staggered. A sharp pain tore through his skull, and he bent forward, reaching out for support that wasn't there.
Amara's eyes cleared instantly, and she caught him, preventing his fall.
Then his flashes came.
He was back in a half-drowned Tokyo, a city submerged yet stubbornly alive. He swam through flooded streets, a courier navigating canals of ruin. The salt of the water filled his mouth. Neon lights flickered against black waves. And then—the sound of his sister's voice, calling from a rooftop. He had been crossing the water to reach her when the shimmer fell, and he was taken.
He pushed Amara away, collapsing to the ground in despair.
"You remembered, too?" Amara asked softly.
"My sister…" His voice cracked. "I don't know if she's still alive."
"You wouldn't want her here. I hope she's still alive," she replied gently.
Amara pieced everything together, her mind sharper now. What she wanted most was a way out.
She rose suddenly, breaking into a sprint. "Come on. Let's run along the wall and find an exit. Not too close. This wall is bad news."
Back at the base, the rest of the group wandered through the ruins, scanning the area with uneasy eyes. Short and tall buildings stretched across the horizon in ruins, some barely standing, others crumbled to dust. Between them grew wild trees, stubborn bushes, and scattered vines. A river cut its way through the landscape, a lake shaped by the passing of time.
"At least it feels like Earth," Jalen muttered, glancing around. "But what the hell happened to this place?"
The environment felt both familiar and alien, as though it belonged to Earth but carried a strangeness that refused to be ignored.
In truth, more than two centuries had passed since they were captured. But none of them knew it. Only one, Xavier, silently wondered just how much time had gone by.
Xavier—Caucasian, copper-black hair, hazel-green eyes—stood about 6'1". Broad-shouldered and slightly muscular, he kept his thoughts to himself. He had already concluded they had been abducted, even before Kira voiced her suspicions.
Educated and precise, Xavier relied heavily on proof before opening his mouth. Yet he was no coward. He acted decisively, moving toward answers without hesitation. Perhaps that was why, instead of following Amara and Kaito, he turned his attention to the building.
"Maybe there are answers inside," he thought, his face set, his steps sharp with determination.
Kira followed next, then Elira, one by one the others—all moving cautiously, each pace measured as though the ground itself might betray them.
Elira's dark brown, wavy hair brushed her shoulders as she walked. Her warm brown skin glowed under the dim light, and her soft hazel eyes darted between shadows. At about 5'8" and in her early thirties, she looked gently built but carried strong, steady hands.
The air inside the building was sterile, unnervingly precise. Cold but not frigid, perfectly balanced. A dimly lit passage stretched before them, flickering wall panels flashing faint reflections like half-broken mirrors.
The walls felt wrong.
Markings—human, yet desperate—covered their surfaces. Some were written in blood, smeared yet visible, others carved directly into the concrete. They overlapped one another in chaotic layers and in different languages.
Nyah leaned closer, squinting. Her full black curls shifted around her face, her rich brown skin glistening faintly as she studied the walls. In her late twenties, standing 5'9" with a compact, strong frame, she radiated focus.
"This is human writing," she said firmly. "It looks like there were others here before us."
Elira frowned, her soft voice breaking the silence. "So… where are they now? This place feels abandoned."
One carving stood out among the rest.
Jalen reached for it, tracing the rough grooves with his palm. His voice dropped to a murmur. "We are runners. We are prey. There is no way out." His hand slid lower, brushing across the next line. "Always running. Always staying alive for the next Hunt."
Theo, tall and lanky with pale skin, early thirties, and long blond hair tied into a messy knot, leaned close. His piercing blue eyes narrowed. "What does it mean?" he whispered.
Jalen turned, shrugging helplessly.
Some of the runners bent to study other inscriptions. Their expressions shifted—confusion tightening into fear. Others pressed forward, determined to keep moving, though the words hung over them like a curse.
The corridor hummed faintly, antiseptic and hollow.
Eventually, they entered a cafeteria.
Unlike the ruins outside, it was pristine.
Wall panels glowed faintly, unbroken. Long tables and chairs stood in neat rows, untouched by dust or time. A refrigerator hummed softly in the corner, beside a large stove, counters, and cabinets. Everything.
They moved past the cafeteria, checking nearby rooms. Toilets. Empty quarters. Small offices stripped bare. Every door they opened revealed the same sterile preservation—spaces clean, untouched, and slightly dusty.
After they regrouped, Xavier finally broke the silence. His tone was calm but heavy.
"Years have passed outside. You can see it in the ruins—the war, the decay. But this place…" He gestured to the cafeteria around them. "This place looks perfectly preserved. Untouched. As if it was prepared for us."
Jalen turned toward him, eyebrows drawn. "Prepared for us? What do you mean?"
Xavier's voice sharpened. "Think! There are no transformers, no visible wiring, no power lines. Yet the lights are on. The fridge works. The stove works. Does that make sense to you?"
He slammed a hand against one of the tables, the sharp sound echoing through the room. "This isn't the Earth I remember. Something about this place is wrong."
Their faces paled. For reasons they could not explain, the memories of the invasion and the collapse of civilization were gone—snuffed out. They remembered only the day before it began. The year 2044.
Perhaps it was better that way.
"No wonder those two ran off," Jalen muttered, referring to Amara and Kaito.
"Trust me," Xavier said firmly. "There are more answers in here than out there. We just need to keep looking, piece by piece."
Jalen didn't argue, though his restless eyes darted around the room. He was impulsive by nature, driven by instinct rather than reason. How he had survived this long before capture remained a mystery.
The group pressed upstairs. The second floor revealed rows of barracks, shared toilets, and a single communal bathing chamber.
Kira wrinkled her nose. "Only one shower?" she said, disappointment clear in her tone.
Xavier glanced at her. "You planning on staying here?"
"God, no!" she shot back instantly.
It was just like her—quick to find flaws, quicker to point them out.
They descended again, and it was Alexei who spoke next.
"This was definitely a military base," he said in his thick accent, his voice steady but weighted with doubt. Cropped light brown hair framed his pale face, and his ice-blue eyes seemed to pierce the walls themselves. At 6'2" and in his early thirties, broad and powerful, his presence filled the hall.
"I suspected as much, but the second floor confirms it—the barracks. Still… the roof is different. Completely alien. The same material as the pods. In all my years of service, I've never seen anything like it. If I didn't know better, I'd call it a test site for human subjects. But even then, there's this alien feeling I can't shake."
"You're right," Xavier agreed quietly. "We need to verify before drawing conclusions."
Just as they were about to leave, Jalen's voice rang out.
"Hey! Check this out!"
He dragged something heavy from the corner of the cafeteria room. A crate, forged from the same black substance as the pods. Too heavy to lift, it scraped loudly across the floor as he pulled it forward. Strange markings glimmered faintly along its surface.
The sound drew everyone's attention.
"What is it?" Sera asked sharply.
Sera was tall, in mid-twenties, and lean, her blonde hair braided tightly, her storm-gray eyes cutting into the crate as if trying to see inside. Her pale skin carried a cold undertone, making her gaze all the more piercing.
Some of the group edged closer, curiosity pulling them forward. Others backed away, fear written on their faces, unwilling to risk whatever the alien container might hold.
Without hesitation, Jalen forced the lid open.
Inside were rows of tin cans. Ordinary in shape, human in design—no labels.
Hunger struck him immediately. His stomach ached so sharply it felt as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.
He grabbed one, pried it open, and scooped the contents into his mouth.
It was delicious. He devoured it as fast as he could, then reached for another. Then another.
The others stared in stunned silence, waiting for him to collapse.
But nothing happened.
Kira's voice cut in, sharp and scolding. "Didn't it even cross your mind that it could be poisoned?"
Jalen wiped his mouth, smirking. "If they wanted us dead, they wouldn't have dropped us from the sky alive just to kill us with canned food."
He held up another can, his grin crooked. "This food is here because they want us alive. At least for now."
Kira's lips pressed into a hard line. She said nothing, though her sharp eyes lingered on him. Perhaps, she thought, Jalen wasn't as foolish as he first appeared.
The hunger was too much. One by one, the others gave in, tearing open the cans, devouring their contents. For a moment, nothing else mattered. The food consumed them as much as they consumed it.
Suddenly, one of the runners dropped a can, his hands trembling. Then another followed. One by one, they fell to their knees—not from poisoning, but from something far more invasive.
Their heads throbbed with blinding pain. Eyes rolled dazed as if their very minds were being torn open.
Then came the flashes.
Xavier Mendes — A former civil engineer from Detroit. His memories came crashing back in violent waves.
He remembered patching underground water lines, hauling pipes through the ruins of a dying city, trying to keep hope alive for those still clinging to survival. He remembered faces—tired, hungry, desperate—looking to him for solutions.
When the Vexari descended, he was out scavenging for materials to make the tunnels livable. He had fought—fought hard—but it was in vain.
Darkness consumed him. One moment, he had stood ready before a Vexari soldier, heart pounding, and the next, silence had swallowed the world. His resistance ended in capture.
Jalen Rocha — Portuguese, raised leaping rooftops, dodging gang violence. His world had been concrete, danger, and freedom in motion.
He had taught himself parkour to survive the streets, and when the invasion came, he used it to deliver supplies, darting through ruins others could not reach. He remembered the children he had guided through broken alleys, his voice steady as fear clawed at their faces.
Then—the shimmer. The Vexari came, and he was taken while leading the last group of children to safety.
At the ranch, he would become its heartbeat—reckless, impulsive, but always pushing forward, always finding the way even when none seemed possible.
Elira Dominic — Colombian-born American, botanist.
Her flashback arrived in fragments. She was in Kerrville, Texas, tending the last surviving greenhouse. The air smelled of jasmine. Bees buzzed lazily between blossoms. Light filtered through cracked glass overhead, fractured but beautiful.
She remembered her daughter's laughter. The sound of ships overhead. Then the sky turned red.
She had been taken in the middle of a harvest, hands full of life, even as darkness claimed her.
Theo Ackerman — Musician from Berlin, Germany.
He remembered the underground tunnels alive with rebellion. The thrum of bass echoes against damp walls. The flicker of strobe lights. Bodies moving as one, rhythm their only defiance.
His flashback was a song—unfinished, lingering in his skull. He remembered performing when the air suddenly froze, when the lights went out, and silence devoured the music.
Captured mid-beat, his song unfinished.
Nyah Samba — Medic from the Congo Basin.
Her flashback was tender. She was working in a floating clinic, patching wounds with what little supplies remained. A child's smile lingered in her mind. The hiss of sterilizers. Lullabies sung in Lingala.
She was treating a burn victim when the Vexari attacked. One moment, she was saving a life, the next, she vanished from the world she knew.
Sera Nordan — Scandinavian, trained in tracking and plant medicine by her grandmother.
She remembered crouching low in the wilderness, hands brushing over herbs as her grandmother's voice echoed in memory. She had tried to sabotage a Vexari transport vessel, moving with the precision of a hunter.
She had been caught. Taken before her plan could succeed.
At the ranch, she would draw from the old knowledge—using every plant, every sign, to keep her comrades alive.
Alexei Volkov — Russian, former Marine turned military analyst.
His memories returned in fire.
Stationed in Alaska, he had seen the Vexari ship open fire. Destruction rained. Friends and comrades fell in mangled heaps. He remembered leading the last coordinated defense, shouting orders, pulling his men into positions that crumbled moments later.
Overwhelmed, crushed, he too had been taken.
Kira Djokovic — Nurse from El Paso.
Her memories returned with blood.
She had been tending wounded civilians, blending modern medicine with traditional remedies, trying to ease the suffering around her. She remembered the screams, the fire, the desperate prayers.
Then the Vexari attacked, and she was captured.
It was as though some drug had suppressed these memories, locking them away until the right moment, until the ranch itself forced them back.
When the pain settled, they opened their eyes wide. The truth dawned on them with crushing weight.
This wasn't a military test site.
This was Earth—shaped, scarred, and cultivated into something else.
Something alien.
Something built for amusement.
The words on the wall echoed in their minds:
We are runners. We are prey.
The food turned bitter in their mouths.
Jalen's voice cracked with rage. "Oh… Jesus, f**k! We've been captured—for some kind of twisted alien enjoyment."
Just as panic threatened to break loose, footsteps echoed through the halls.
The group spun toward the sound, snatching up anything they could use as a weapon—metal scraps, chairs, anything heavy enough to swing.
The steps drew closer.
Then two figures appeared in the hallway.
Amara and Kaito.
Faces pale, eyes wide, their presence pulled the group back from the brink of violence.
"We almost killed you," one of them muttered in disbelief.
Amara's expression was grim. "So you remembered too?" She nodded. "Good. At least I don't have to be the bearer of bad news."
The tension snapped the moment Amara spoke.
"We need to get out of here!" several voices cried at once, panic rising like wildfire.
"There is no way out," Amara answered firmly, her voice steady in the silence.
Kaito stood beside her, his face pale but jaw set. "There is no escape."
Kira pushed forward, seizing Kaito's combat jacket. The buttons hung loose, revealing the vest beneath. Her grip was tight, her sharp eyes boring into his. "What do you mean, no escape? Are you saying there's no way out? That we're trapped?"
The room still reeked faintly of opened canned food, but hunger was the last thing on anyone's mind. Kira's knuckles whitened as she demanded answers.
Amara drew in a slow, controlled breath. Her words came calmly but unflinching.
"The walls are too high. Made of alien material, the same as these pods and some of these walls. They surround us, stretching for eight… maybe ten miles in every direction. And when you get close—" she paused, her eyes flicking to Kaito "—they move. They glow. They feel alive."
Kaito's lips pressed into a tight line as he nodded. "We ran the perimeter for hours. No cracks. No openings. No gates. Nothing. This is a cage. And we're inside it."
The words dropped like stones into their chests.
Elira's voice trembled. "So we're trapped?"
"Not just trapped," Kaito replied darkly. "I think we're being watched. Observed. Tested, maybe. Whatever brought us here—it's watching."
Jalen let out a humorless laugh, dragging a hand through his messy curls. "Great. So we're rats in a maze. Fantastic."
Xavier stepped closer, his tone low and grim. "No. A maze has an exit. A cage doesn't."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Each runner wrestled with the weight of his words, their fleeting hope smothered.
Hours passed. The sun dipped toward the horizon, staining the sky in bruised colors. Hunger gnawed at their stomachs again, a cruel reminder of their reality.
Even Amara and Kaito, who had resisted earlier, gave in. They tore open cans, eating with the same desperation as the others. Swallowing quickly, hardly chewing, they devoured what was left.
"This tastes too good," Kaito muttered between bites. "What even is it made of?"
No one had an answer.
When they were done, Amara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "If we can't escape, then we need to find something—anything—that explains this place."
The others agreed reluctantly. They spread out again, searching the building and its surroundings. Every corner. Every passage.
But there was nothing.
No hidden doors. No secret passages. Nothing but silence.
Jalen spat on the ground, his frustration boiling over. "Not a damn thing. It's like the place is taunting us."
Kira's voice cracked, desperate. "What happened to the people before us? The writings show they were here. Were they killed? Will the same thing happen to us?"
No one could answer her. Not even Xavier.
Nyah shook her head, her tone somber. Those outside "walls aren't just unclimbable. They're unnatural. Alive, maybe. The aliens don't want us to escape."
The words sank into the silence.
By the time the sun set fully, the outside was wrapped in darkness. No artificial lights illuminated the exterior of the base. Only the moon's cold glow guided their return.
One by one, the group filed back into the building. Their footsteps echoed down the same hallway, past the carvings and blood-written words that had unsettled them earlier.
We are runners. We are prey. Stay alive for the next hunt.
Amara lingered, her eyes drawn to a corner of the wall. Names of previous runners were etched there, faint and fading.
Her chest tightened. Her breath caught.
"These…" Her voice broke. "These are my comrades. My people. They were here."
Her hands trembled as she traced the faded letters, blurred by age.
She fell to her knees, grief overwhelming her. Tears streamed down her face as her lips moved in whispered Hindi prayers.
"I thought you were lost in the desert," she murmured. "But you were here… and you died here."
The others fell silent, their gazes heavy with respect. Even Kaito bowed his head, though the thought of his sister caused him some discomfort.
Elira fought to block out thoughts of her daughter. She had kept her composure since her flashback, but the thought of loss could shatter her completely. She said nothing, burying her emotions deep to survive.
None of them knew yet that the world outside was already gone. If they had, those who still clung to family would have felt the same crushing despair as Amara.
That evening, they decided.
"We barricade," Alexei said firmly. His voice carried the weight of command. "Doors, windows, anything that leads outside. We don't know when they're coming, but the messages are clear—they will come."
Xavier nodded. "Tables. Chairs. Even the crate. Stack everything against the entrances."
Jalen smirked faintly, though it looked forced. "A good old-fashioned lockdown. It won't stop whatever dropped us out of the sky, but maybe it'll buy us some time."
Together, they moved with purpose. Heavy objects screeched across the floors as they dragged them into place. Tables leaned against the steel doors. Broken chairs were wedged into window frames. Every entrance, every gap, was covered.
Their efforts echoed through the halls, a rhythm of defiance against the silence.
Above them, Korr'Vex sat in his chamber, aboard a ship high in the sky. Directly above the ranch, unseen unless one looked carefully—or caught a glimpse by mistake. He watched. Always watching.
By the time they finished, sweat slicked their brows, and their bodies ached. Yet a strange sense of unity lingered. For the first time since awakening, they felt less like strangers and more like comrades.
They drank from the cafeteria sinks. They sat in silence. Some leaned against walls. Others curled up on bunks in their suits. The eerie preservation of the building became almost familiar.
Still, the writings on the walls gnawed at them. The warnings of hunts that never end echoed in their minds.
"We don't even know when it will begin," Elira whispered to no one in particular.
Nyah's reply was soft, heavy with dread. "That's worse. Waiting is its own kind of death."
That evening, the group sat together, voices low and strained. They formed a rotation for guard duty. Those who weren't watching curled into bunks, some sleeping uneasily in their suits, others staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.
Jalen, ever restless, broke the silence once, trying to lift the mood. "Hey, at least we've got food. Could be worse—we could be working on empty stomachs."
Kira smirked faintly, shaking her head. "Yeah. Poisoned food. Real comfort."
"Then I'll die full. Better than hungry," Jalen shot back, earning a few tired chuckles.
But as night deepened, the walls seemed to press closer, shadows stretching longer.
Sometime past midnight, the watchers—Alexei, Xavier, and Kaito—noticed it first.
Xavier narrowed his eyes at the window. "Do you see that?"
Outside, a haze drifted across the grounds. Thick. Unnatural. It was not dust. Not fog.
Smoke.
It slithered like a living thing, curling and coiling across the wasteland, spreading fast toward the building.
Alexei's soldier's instincts flared instantly. His voice was a barked command, sharp enough to jolt the others awake. "On your feet! Everyone up, now!"
The runners bolted upright as Xavier and Kaito shook the sleepers. Panic surged through the dimly lit room.
"What is it?!" Sera demanded, gripping a broken chair leg like a weapon.
"The smoke—look!" Kaito pointed, his voice tight.
The darkness outside was gone, swallowed by a rolling tide of thick purple vapor pressing against the walls.
"It's… It's coming inside," Elira whispered in horror as tendrils of smoke slithered through cracks in the barricades. They curled under doors, seeped through shattered vents, and bled from shifting seams in the alien roof.
Nyah clamped her sleeve over her mouth, eyes wide. "How? The walls are sealed!"
But sealed or not, the smoke crept in like a predator, filling every gap, every breath of space.
The air turned heavy. Acrid. Chemical. It stung their lungs, burned their throats.
Jalen staggered, coughing violently. "Hold your breath! Don't—don't breathe it in!"
But it was too late.
One by one, their knees buckled.
Theo collapsed first, his rhythm cut short. Then Elira, then Sera.
Amara tried to shout, her voice muffled by the thick haze. Kaito reached for her, his hand trembling, before his body dropped limp beside hers.
Alexei fought longest, his frame shuddering with resistance, but even he crumpled at last, defeated.
The smoke thickened, swallowing the light, pressing shadows into nothingness.
The last thing they all saw was the glow of the walls fading to black.
And then—silence.
Darkness claimed them all.