The shuttle approached the derelict K'tharr station with deliberate caution, its thrusters firing in measured bursts. Through the viewport, Emma studied the station's twisted architecture. Once angular and sharp, the K'tharr design had been warped into flowing, surreal curves, as though frozen mid-motion while melting.
"Life support minimal but stable," Markus reported from the pilot's seat, his voice steady but tense. "Radiation levels are higher than I'd like—safe for brief exposure, but no heroics."
Emma glanced at the WoodDust swirling faintly around her hands. The particles moved erratically, restless in a way she had never seen before. "We stick to the plan. In and out."
"If anything feels off," Ethan said quietly from the rear of the shuttle, pulse rifle ready, "we blow the station." His voice carried no hesitation.
Emma nodded firmly. "The Arbor has weapons locked on this location. One signal, and Lucas will turn this place into fragments."
As the shuttle docked, it released a metallic groan, latching onto an airlock that looked disturbingly half-organic, its edges pulsing faintly as though alive.
"That's not standard K'tharr tech," Markus muttered, his grip tightening on the controls.
"Nothing about this place is standard," Emma replied, her tone wary as her gaze lingered on the alien structure.
The crew cycled through the airlock, moving cautiously as weapons remained at the ready. Emergency lighting cast the station in a sickly green glow, throwing uneven shadows across corridors that seemed to shift unnaturally at the edges of their vision. The air smelled wrong—a metallic tang mixed with something faintly organic and decaying.
"Movement ahead," Ethan murmured, pulse rifle aimed steadily down the dim hallway.
The corridor widened into what appeared to have been a laboratory. Equipment lay shattered across the room, and fractured screens displayed flickering fractal patterns identical to those observed in Quantum Schism anomalies. At the center of the room, three figures stood huddled around a softly glowing device.
As the figures turned, Emma felt her stomach twist involuntarily. Once humanoid, their bodies had been grotesquely transformed. Flesh and metal fused together seamlessly, creating biomechanical growths that spread like fungal infections. Their eyes reflected light in unsettling patterns, shifting through countless unnatural colors.
"You came," rasped the closest figure, its voice distorted, a combination of metallic grind and strained breath. "As was inevitable."
Emma held her weapon steady, her posture calm but firm. "Who are you?"
"Seedkeepers," answered another figure, its frame more machine than flesh. "We tend to what comes after."
"After what?" Emma demanded.
"After the Schism feeds." The third figure stepped forward, its face partially obscured by jagged implants. Scars hinted at both pain and time. "It birthed the Leviathan. The black hunter. And the hunter sees you now."
Markus stiffened beside her. "The fluid mass we detected earlier."
"It consumes," the first Seedkeeper confirmed. "Learns. Evolves. Then it hunts again."
Emma narrowed her eyes. "You're survivors. From another ship?"
Something resembling a bitter smile appeared on their distorted features. "We are what remains when the Schism finishes its work. We are what you become when your purpose is served."
A chill raced down Emma's spine. "We just arrived. We don't have a purpose."
"You always had a purpose," the second Seedkeeper insisted. Its gaze locked onto the swirling WoodDust around Emma's hands. "From the moment your particles touched you. From the moment you were chosen."
"Chosen by whom?" Emma asked.
The Seedkeepers turned toward the glowing device in the center of the room. "The anchor holds us here, outside the event horizon. Inside, time loses meaning. Space bends to will. The Schism rules absolute."
"Event horizon?" Ethan asked, his tone steady but probing. "The anomaly—is it a black hole?"
"A universe within a black hole," the third Seedkeeper corrected, its voice reverent and hollow. "A prison of the Schism's making, where it tests and transforms."
The device pulsed more rapidly now, its rhythm matching the erratic swirl of WoodDust around Emma's hands. "This anchor," Emma began cautiously, "what does it do?"
"It stabilizes spacetime," explained the first Seedkeeper. It gestured toward the viewport, where the anomaly loomed ominously. "Without it, you would be drawn in—mind shattered before body. With it, you might survive long enough to understand."
Emma heard Lucas's voice crackle through her comms. "Commander, anomaly expansion detected. Energy readings are spiking. Whatever you're doing in there, it's reacting."
The station trembled violently, lights flickering in rapid succession. Beyond the viewport, the fluid black mass seemed to stretch toward them, impossibly vast despite the distance.
"It sees you," whispered the Seedkeepers in unison, their voices trembling with fear. "The Leviathan comes. It always comes."
Markus stepped forward, his eyes sharp. "This anchor—can it be moved?"
The Seedkeepers exchanged glances, their biomechanical features making their expressions unreadable. After a pause, the most human-looking one nodded. "It was designed to be portable. To allow exploration of the threshold."
"We're taking it," Emma decided. "And you're coming with us."
One Seedkeeper hesitated before speaking. "The Schism doesn't allow escape."
Emma met their distorted gaze evenly. "We're not asking for permission. We need answers—and you're going to provide them."
The station shuddered again, alarms blaring as Lucas's voice returned urgently over the comms: "Commander, the black mass is accelerating toward the station. You need to move now."
"Pack it up," Emma ordered firmly.
Ethan began disconnecting the anchor, his actions methodical despite the escalating tension. The Seedkeepers watched him with expressions caught between hope and resignation.
"It won't save you," murmured one of them softly. "Nothing will. The cycle must complete."
"What cycle?" Emma demanded.
The Seedkeeper reached out, biomechanical fingers almost brushing the WoodDust swirling protectively around her hand. "Ask why your gift responds to our technology. Ask why it brought you here."
As Ethan lifted the anchor device, its light pulsed in perfect synchronization with the WoodDust around Emma's hands. For an instant, Emma's vision fragmented. She saw infinite versions of herself—some standing strong, others consumed by darkness—all converging toward a single point of light and shadow.
The vision passed, leaving her breathless. "Move out," she ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos.
As the crew retreated through shifting corridors, the station groaned, its structure twisting unnaturally. The Seedkeepers followed close behind, their movements awkward but determined.
"Commander," Lucas's voice crackled again, urgency clear, "the Leviathan is closing faster than expected. Prepare for emergency extraction."
The shuttle detached just as hull breaches vented atmosphere into the void. Markus slammed the controls, sealing the ship and firing thrusters at maximum burn.
Through the viewport, Emma watched as the black mass consumed the station, flowing over it like liquid darkness. For a fleeting moment, faces pressed outward from within the void, mouths open in silent screams.
Then the shuttle banked hard, and the horrifying vision disappeared as they raced back toward The Arbor.
Emma stared at the swirling WoodDust in her hands, its fractal movements mirroring the patterns displayed on the Seedkeepers' screens. A single question burned in her mind: What if they hadn't discovered the Quantum Schism? What if, somehow, it had discovered them?