By midday, the crew had stripped the wreck of everything portable—wiring, fractured plating, scorched panels. The pile at their feet looked pitiful compared to what the ship truly needed.
Marquez shook her head. "Not enough. We'll have to pull structural alloy from the ruins."
Hayes adjusted the strap of his rifle. "Then we move. Stay tight."
They left the ship behind, the broken hulk looming in the smoke as they trekked back into the forest. The light had already shifted, the canopy bending overhead like ribs closing around them.
---
The Ruin Again
The crown-shaped monument loomed larger than before. The glowing symbols that had pulsed faintly the day before now throbbed brighter, in rhythm with Daniel's crystal.
Okafor muttered, "It knows we're back."
Hayes ignored him. "We strip what we can—outer stones, alloy cores, anything that looks useful. Fast."
The crew split into pairs, prying at metal veins embedded in the stone. The alloy wasn't Earth-forged, but its density and conductivity matched what Marquez needed.
Daniel, however, felt the pull deepen. The pedestal below thrummed faintly. When his hands brushed one of the glowing panels, visions flared again—schematics, but this time blended with shapes he didn't understand. Not just repairs. Upgrades.
The ruin wanted more than survival. It wanted change.
---
The Shadows Stir
Hours passed. The crew filled packs with alloy and wiring. Sweat darkened their suits. The forest grew restless.
At first it was subtle—branches creaking, leaves rustling though no wind blew. Then came the whispers, soft as breath against the ear. Words half-formed, like names the crew almost recognized.
Marquez froze mid-strike, her chisel poised. "Did you hear that?"
Okafor's face paled. "They're watching."
From the treeline, faint yellow eyes blinked open, dozens of them. The shadows lingered, never crossing the clearing. Not yet.
Hayes barked: "Keep working! Daylight's ours, night's theirs. Move!"
---
The Return
By dusk, their packs bulged with salvaged material. The trek back to the ship was heavier, slower. The shadows trailed them, always just out of reach, whispering, whispering.
When they reached the wreck, Daniel collapsed against the hull, his heart pounding with the crystal's rhythm. The schematics he had seen still burned behind his eyes—clearer now.
He knew how the repairs had to be done. Not just patched. Rebuilt. Changed.
Marquez noticed his faraway stare. "You saw something again, didn't you?"
Daniel hesitated, then whispered: "It's showing me how to fix it. But not the same ship we flew in. Something… different."
The others stared, unease tightening around them like a noose.
Hayes broke the silence, voice hard. "Then tomorrow, we build. Whatever this thing is giving you, Daniel—we'll use it. Or we don't leave at all."
The shadows hissed from the treeline, as if they had heard every word.