"Gosh, it's so cold in here," Stacy muttered, rubbing her arms.
The cave offered shelter, but not warmth. Outside, the alien night had swallowed everything—the forest, the lake, even the horizon. The trees beyond still glowed faintly red, like veins pulsing in the dark, and the water shimmered with dim patches of bioluminescent light from the strange plants that drifted beneath its surface. Beautiful, but unsettling.
Growl.
A sound broke the silence, and all eyes turned to Mila. Her face flushed as she pressed a hand over her stomach.
"Hungry?" James asked, breaking a small grin as he rummaged through his pack. "I've got some rations left."
He handed her a small sealed packet—compressed food, bland but warm. Mila smiled softly. "Thanks."
James sat down beside her, the flickering blue light from their suits reflecting faintly off the cave walls. For a while, they both just listened to the wind whistling through the cracks.
"Do you think…" Mila hesitated, her voice small. "Do you think we'll make it out of here?"
The next day—or what they guessed was the next day—came slowly.
Time on Primora didn't move like it did on Earth; the nights stretched longer, and the air felt heavier.
Light finally crept across the cave floor, a soft reflection from the green-blue water outside. It hit Mila's eyes, and she stirred awake. Her vision blurred for a moment before she realized where she was. The cave. The others. James was asleep beside her, his back against the rock wall. David sat slumped across from them, still out cold.
She blinked, adjusting to the light—and froze.
Where's Stacy?
Mila sat up fast, scanning the shadows. "Stacy?" she called. No answer. Her pulse quickened. "Stacy!"
David jerked awake, startled. "What? What's going on?"
"Do you see Stacy?" Mila asked, shaking James's shoulder.
James groaned, half-asleep. "Huh? What are you—"
"She's gone," Mila said. "She's not here."
James was instantly awake now, on his feet in seconds. "What do you mean she's gone?"
Without waiting for him to finish, Mila bolted out of the cave. She climbed up the rocky ledge, her boots scraping against the stone—only to stop short when she heard a voice above her.
"Up here."
Mila looked up to see Stacy sitting casually on top of the cave, legs dangling over the edge, her tech-watch in her hand.
"Stacy?" Mila exhaled in relief.
"Yeah," Stacy replied, tapping furiously at the flickering screen. "I'm trying to recalibrate the locator. If I can get a signal, it might pick up the ship's coordinates—but whatever's interfering with it is strong. Like, really strong. Some kind of magnetic field must be blanketing this whole area."
Mila climbed the rest of the way up, followed by James and David.
"Man, I thought you disappeared," David said with a yawn, rubbing his eyes.
"Yeah, no," Stacy muttered, squinting at the horizon. "Still here. Just frustrated."
The AI voice from her device suddenly chimed, flat and cold:
"Spaceship location failed."
"Damn it," Stacy hissed, smacking the screen shut.
No one said anything after that. They all just sat there for a while, watching the alien sunrise. The light stretched over the crimson forest, spilling across the strange blue-green sea. Despite everything—the fear, the uncertainty—it was beautiful.
There was nothing they could do now but wait.
As the sun climbed over the horizon, the forests and plains began to change. The crimson glow that had haunted the night slowly faded to green, like color seeping back into a photograph.
"Maybe that's how it works here," Mila murmured, watching in wonder. "The plants turn red at night."
With daylight spilling over the plains, the world around them came into sharper focus. The water shimmered with strange blue-green hues, the air clearer than before. Then—
"Wait, what's that?" David said suddenly, squinting toward the far side of the lake.
Everyone turned. In the distance, across the rippling water, something stood against the horizon—dark shapes, too symmetrical to be natural. It looked like a ring of tall wooden fences surrounding… something.
"Oh my god," Mila whispered. "That's… built. That's made by someone."
"Aliens," Stacy breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Without hesitation, they started toward the water's edge.
Stacy knelt, scanning the surface with her wrist console. "Water's safe. Fresh. No toxins detected."
"Then let's move," said James.
The group activated the swimming mode on their suits. Helmets sealed automatically, small propulsion systems humming to life. One by one, they dove in—jets of light flaring as the motors pushed them forward across the lake.
For the first time in what felt like forever, hope surged through them. They weren't alone. Something intelligent lived here.
Then the water shifted.
A deep current rolled beneath them, fast and heavy.
"Guys…?" David's voice trembled. "Did you feel that?"
The water churned again—then burst open in front of them. A massive shape sliced through the surface, scales glinting like steel.
"Holy—"
A serpent, as long as a blue whale, coiled in a slow, predatory circle around them. Its eyes were a deep, luminescent gold, fixed on the intruders.
"Stacy, you didn't scan for lifeforms?!" David yelled.
"I did!" Stacy's voice cracked. "Nothing came up—there's something wrong with the sensors!"
The serpent rose higher, water cascading down its body as it opened its jaws.
Then—
Thwack!
A long spear shot across the lake, striking the creature's flank. The serpent let out a deafening roar, its tail thrashing violently before it dove beneath the surface and disappeared into the depths.
"Woah—what the hell—" James gasped.
Two massive boats were cutting through the water toward them, carved from dark wood and bone, their hulls etched with strange runes. Onboard stood figures—six in total—each towering at least twice the height of a human.
They weren't human.
Their skin shimmered bronze-brown beneath the sunlight, their features sharp and powerful. They wore bone necklaces and crested headbands marked with the symbol of a horned bear—the same creature the team had seen in the forest.
One boat pulled alongside the astronauts, the towering aliens motioning for them to climb aboard. The other boat circled wide, another spear ready in case the serpent returned.
No one spoke. Mila exchanged a glance with James—half awe, half disbelief—before climbing up.
The aliens didn't speak, but their eyes burned with intelligence.
Soon, the boats turned toward the distant shore, cutting through the glimmering water, toward the fenced structures on the other side of the lake.
Toward the unknown.
"Mila."
The voice echoed through the darkness.
"Mila."
Her eyes fluttered open. James was leaning over her, his face dimly lit by a flickering orange glow. Behind him, Stacy and David were already awake, sitting against cold metal bars.
She pushed herself upright. The floor was rough and gray, streaked with grime. The air smelled damp—like rust and soil. Then she realized where they were.
Tall, curved bars surrounded them—too thick to bend, stretching high above their heads. The "cell" was enormous, almost three times the size of a human prison block.
"Where are we?" Mila breathed.
"Some kind of holding area," James said quietly. "Those… aliens. They didn't talk. Just knocked us out and brought us here."
"Great," Stacy muttered, glancing at the heavy gate. "So, they save us from a sea monster just to throw us in jail. Wonderful hospitality."
Before anyone could respond, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor—thoom… thoom… thoom…
One of the towering alien tribesmen appeared. His eyes glowed faintly gold in the shadows, and when he stopped in front of the cell, everyone went silent. He stared at them for a long moment, then reached for the lock.
The gate opened with a low metallic groan.
"Oh god," David whispered, taking a step back.
The alien pointed directly at him. In a flash, two others entered, grabbing David with terrifying strength. He shouted and tried to fight them off, but it was useless.
"David!" Mila yelled, but before she could reach him, one of the creatures seized her arm. Another grabbed James and Stacy.
"Wait—where are you taking us?" James demanded. No answer.
The aliens dragged them out of the cell and down a narrow tunnel that sloped downward, deeper underground. Faint light pulsed from strange crystals embedded in the walls, throwing shifting colors across the stone. The sound of rushing water echoed somewhere far below.
Then the tunnel opened into a vast chamber—a cave, lit by dim golden torches carved into the rock. The air was heavy and hot, and in the center sat a single figure.
At first, Mila thought it was another alien. But as her eyes adjusted, she froze.
He looked human. Or at least, he looked like one.
He sat cross-legged on a stone platform, draped in rough fabrics. His skin was pale and scarred, his hair long and brown with streaks of gray. A tangled beard hid half his face, but when he opened his eyes, they gleamed bright yellow.
The tribesmen released the astronauts and backed away, bowing slightly before retreating to the edges of the chamber.
The man—or whatever he was—watched them in silence. The air around him shimmered faintly, like heat rising from stone.
James took a step forward. "Who are you?"
The man raised his hand.
A low hum filled the chamber. The air vibrated.
Mila gasped as her body lifted from the ground, suspended by invisible force. The others floated beside her, frozen in midair.
A beam of golden light spread from the man's palm, sweeping across their faces. It wasn't fire, it wasn't energy—it felt alive. The light pressed against her head, sinking into her mind.
Pain flared behind her eyes. Thoughts splintered. She saw flashes—symbols, sounds, images she didn't recognize—languages twisting and reforming inside her skull.
"What are you doing?!" James shouted, but the words came out warped, distorted, like underwater noise.
The golden-eyed man's expression didn't change. He closed his fingers, and the light grew brighter.
Mila tried to scream, but the world blurred.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Then—darkness.