The blue glow of Earth had never looked so fragile. It hung in the viewport like a promise too easily broken, a reminder of home wrapped in distance. The crew watched it in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Jonas broke it first. "Trajectory's locked. Two more days, and we touch atmosphere."
No one answered. The quiet stretched thin.
Then the lights flickered. Once. Twice. The hum of the engines stuttered as though caught in its own hesitation.
"Don't you dare," Mara growled, slamming her palm against the wall.
Liora bent over the console. "Power's stable. This isn't us." Her words trailed as the overhead speakers crackled again.
The voices returned. Not whispers this time, but a chant—low, steady, and in rhythm with the ship's systems. Every flicker of light matched its cadence, every pulse of the engines aligned with it.
Eris closed his eyes. He didn't need to translate. The Heart of Mars was speaking.
The chanting grew louder, filling the cabin with a suffocating weight. Tools rattled. Panels shook. Mara drew her weapon instinctively though there was nothing to fire at.
"Cut the comms!" Jonas barked.
"They're not on," Liora snapped back, fingers flying uselessly.
The viewport dimmed. For a heartbeat, Earth disappeared—swallowed by a red haze. The crew gasped as the image sharpened: not Earth, but Mars, looming massive as though they had never left. Its surface cracked open, glowing veins of crimson light stretching across it like scars.
"No," Mara whispered. "We're not… we're not back there—"
"It's not real," Jonas said firmly, though his knuckles whitened on the controls. "It's not real."
The vision held for what felt like hours, though it was only seconds. Then the haze lifted, Earth shining once more, steady and small.
The chant cut off. Silence rushed back in, thicker than before.
Eris opened his eyes, his voice quiet but certain. "It doesn't matter how far we run. Mars is with us now."
The others said nothing. They didn't need to.
Because they all knew he was right.