"Alright," Mila said, voice steady despite the pounding in her chest. "Here we go."
Everyone stepped forward, their boots sinking slightly into the mossy ground. The forest around them was enormous—vast trunks rising hundreds of feet, their bark rippling like liquid metal. The canopy shimmered with hues of green and gold, shifting as though alive. Strange vines glowed faintly in the shadows, pulsing in rhythm like veins carrying light instead of blood.
It was breathtaking—beautiful and wrong all at once.
A low, vibrating brrrhhhhh rolled through the trees.
"Guys?" Mila's voice wavered.
Branches swayed as something massive moved in the distance. A moment later, it stepped into view—a creature towering six times their height, its body shaped like a bear but leaner, covered in dark, reflective fur that rippled under the alien sun. From its head jutted antlers like polished crystal, branching wide, and its eyes glowed a deep amber. Its face—something between a buffalo and a reptile—turned toward them.
"What in the alien world is that?" whispered James.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then every hand went to a weapon, barrels rising—
"Wait," Stacy hissed. "No. It'll think we're a threat. Keep your guns down."
The creature stared for a few long, tense seconds. Its nostrils flared, a deep growl rumbling from its chest. Then—slowly—it turned away, disappearing back into the forest. The ground trembled with its retreat.
Everyone exhaled at once.
David let out a shaky laugh. "We've got a lot of stories to tell Earth."
"Yeah," James muttered. "If we make it out alive…"
David frowned. "Wait—what's that supposed to mean?"
"Relax," Stacy said quickly, forcing a grin. "You know these guns we have aren't ancient rifles, right? They're top-grade pulse blasters—enough firepower to drop a tank. We'll be fine."
They pressed on. The deeper they went, the denser the forest became. The air grew heavier, tinged with a metallic taste. As the alien sun dipped lower, long shadows stretched across the ground.
Then David froze.
"Uh… guys?" he said softly. "Is it just me—or are the trees turning red?"
At first, everyone brushed it off, assuming it was just the fading light—but then they saw it. The green shimmer of the leaves was fading, replaced by deep crimson veins crawling up the trunks, spreading like blood through the forest.
"The trees—they are turning red," Mila said.
"Oh no," Stacy muttered. "We should head back. We don't know what this means… chemical change, warning system—anything."
"Yeah, agreed," said James. "Let's move."
He tapped the device on his wrist. A translucent green map flickered to life in the air—then blinked, glitched, and turned red.
"Destination guide failed. Unable to locate the requested coordinates."
"What?" James frowned.
"Does it need Wi-Fi or something?" David blurted, panic creeping into his voice.
"No," Mila said sharply. "This system's independent—it doesn't need a signal. It should work anywhere."
Stacy's expression hardened. "Only a strong electromagnetic interference could block it… something close. Really close."
A long silence fell.
Then David whispered, "Oh, shit. Shit. Shit."
The red light from the trees deepened, washing over their suits like blood.
The red glow from the trees deepened, washing over their suits like blood.
"Okay, everyone—calm down," said Stacy, forcing authority into her tone. "It's gotta be this way. Follow me."
They followed her—unaware they were heading in the wrong direction. The deeper they went, the dimmer it grew. Though the alien sun still hovered above the horizon, its light was fading fast beneath the crimson canopy.
"I should've stayed on the ship," David muttered.
"I know. I'm sorry," said Mila. "I shouldn't have asked you to come. We shouldn't have come."
"It's not your fault," James said, glancing at her. "I shouldn't have led us this far. I didn't know the navigation system would fail. I just—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
"Wait. What's that?"
Through the trees, faint light spilled through the shadows. They ran toward it—branches snapping beneath their boots, the red haze pulsing around them—until the forest suddenly opened up.
But what awaited them wasn't the ship.
A vast lake stretched out before them, its surface glowing faintly with shades of turquoise and green, reflecting the alien sky. Around it lay endless plains, tall grass swaying under the cool wind. It would have been breathtaking—if not for the color.
The grass was red. Deep, unsettling crimson. Even the bushes and reeds near the shore shared the same hue, like veins pulsing under the dying light. The air smelled metallic, like rust and rain.
Mila stared in disbelief. "It's… beautiful," she whispered, "but it feels wrong."
As the alien sun sank lower, the temperature dropped sharply. Frost began forming on their visors.
"We're so cooked," David muttered, hugging himself.
"There," Mila pointed. "That cave—by the lake."
A small opening was visible in the rocky cliffside a few hundred feet away. It wasn't much, but it was shelter.
"We stay there for the night," she said quietly.
James and Stacy exchanged a glance, then nodded.
Behind them, the forest still glowed faintly red, the light pulsing through the trees like a heartbeat. Somewhere in the distance, a low growl echoed—long and distant, but close enough to remind them: they weren't alone.
Mila turned toward the cave. "Let's go."
And with that, they disappeared into the alien night.
Back at the Ship
Janet sat alone inside the spacecraft, the metallic hum of the repair drones filling the silence. She'd been helping the AI patch internal cracks with repair foam, but progress was slow. The damage was worse than she'd thought.
Outside, the world had gone dark. Primora's sky glowed faintly from the reflected light of the nearby star, just enough to outline the waves crashing against the shore.
They should've been back by now… Janet thought, biting her lip. Worry gnawed at her chest. I shouldn't have let them go. I should've gone with them.
But stepping into that forest alone, at night? That would've been suicide. She sighed and kept sealing the cracks. "Please be okay," she whispered. "Don't make me go home alone."
Then—
Arhh…
A sound. Faint. Warped. Like someone—or something—crying out for help. Janet froze. It echoed again, closer this time. "Mila?" she called quietly. "David? James?"
The voice repeated, distant and broken, like a radio signal through static. It sounded almost human.
Without thinking, Janet grabbed her rifle—an X-90 Ion Blaster, a weapon strong enough to pierce reinforced hull plating—and stepped toward the rear hatch.
The hatch hissed open. Cold wind and sand lashed against her boots as she stepped out onto the alien shore.
Waves crashed violently nearby, the tide higher than before. In the distance, a storm brewed over the horizon—black clouds threaded with red lightning.
"What the hell…" she breathed.
The sound came again—but now behind her.
She turned toward the forest. The trees glowed faintly red, like veins under skin. The glow pulsed in rhythm, eerie and alive. She took a cautious step closer, raising her weapon.
"Hello?" she called, her voice swallowed by the wind.
Silence.
Then—a thud.
Janet froze. The faint light from the ship's floodlamps flickered across the sand, trembling with the storm's rising wind. She could hear her own breathing inside the helmet—too fast, too shallow.
Another thud. Closer. Heavy. Wet.
A shadow stretched across the ground behind her, blotting out the pale light. Slowly—heart hammering in her chest—she turned.
Her breath hitched.
The creature towered above her, massive and wrong. Its skin looked wet, stretched over muscle that twitched beneath the surface. Glowing red veins ran through its body like molten rivers, pulsing in rhythm with a sound—a deep, animal rasp.
Its eyes found her. Two burning orbs of yellow and crimson. Not just glowing—watching.
She lifted the blaster. "Stay back!"
Blue energy erupted, slamming into the creature's chest—once, twice, again. The bursts lit the beach, sand exploding outward with each hit.
The monster didn't move. It just stood there, staring down at her, smoke rising from the faint scorch marks on its hide.
Then it inhaled—a deep, rumbling pull of air that shook her ribs.
And it roared.
The sound hit her like a wave. The ship behind her rattled. Sand lifted off the ground in a trembling cloud. Janet staggered backward, blinking through the static flashing in her visor.
She tried to reload—hands shaking—but the creature was already moving.
It lunged, claws digging trenches in the sand, a blur of black and red.
Janet screamed as she fired one last desperate shot—
The blast lit the shore in a burst of blue light—
—and vanished into the darkness.