The flames had long since died when Commander Elena Varga forced her body upright. Her lungs burned from smoke and her ears still rang with the scream of tearing metal. The Odyssey—the machine that had carried them into the cosmos—was nothing more than a grave of molten steel scattered across the meadow.
She stumbled, boot sinking into soft soil. It was alien earth, yet her instincts recognized it as ground. Her fingers brushed the grass. Too sharp at the edges, like each blade had been cut with a knife. Two moons hung in the twilight above, pale sentinels that mocked the single moon she had grown up beneath.
Around her stood men in armor—five of them, helmets shaped like snarling beasts. Their blades gleamed in the firelight. She caught the faint rhythm of words, guttural and harsh. They weren't NASA briefings or UN pleasantries; they were the words of conquerors sizing up prey.
"Stay back," Elena rasped, though she doubted they understood her. Her body ached. She had no weapon, no suit integrity, nothing but broken training.
One of the men laughed—a cruel sound that transcended language. He stepped closer, steel raised.
And then the ground between them shook.
A body slammed into the soil, cracking it like stone. Sergeant Marcus Hale rose from the crater, blood streaming from a gash above his brow. His eyes locked on Elena, then on the soldiers.
"Commander. Behind me."
The men hesitated as Marcus pulled free a jagged fragment of the Odyssey's hull—still hot, glowing faintly at the edges. It was no sword, but in his grip it became one.
They attacked in unison, howling in words Elena didn't understand but intent clear as day.
Marcus met them head-on. Steel clashed against metal scrap. Sparks hissed. His movements were brutal, military—every strike meant to kill, not ward. Elena had seen him on Earth in dress uniform, a soldier reduced to a symbol. Here he was something else. A beast in human skin.
One man fell, throat torn open. Another screamed as Marcus shattered his helm with a downward blow. The others faltered. This was no unarmed survivor—they faced a predator.
The remaining three retreated, dragging their wounded with them. Marcus turned, panting.
"You alive?"
Elena nodded, though she felt far from it. Her ribs ached. The world spun.
"We need to regroup. Find the others," Marcus said. "That thing—whatever it was—scattered us."
Elena looked at the sky again. The rift was gone, leaving only moons and strange stars. Her crew was scattered like ash across an alien wind.
Seven who left Earth. How many still breathe?
Arun Das – Alone in the Woods
Far from the crash site, Dr. Arun Das awoke beneath trees taller than skyscrapers. Their bark glowed faintly, pulsing as though blood flowed within. The ground hummed beneath him, like the earth itself was alive.
He adjusted his cracked visor. His instruments were fried, his datapad shattered. Survival would not be equations this time.
A rustle echoed. He froze. From the underbrush crawled a creature shaped like a wolf, yet its body shimmered translucent, ribs visible through a hide of mist. Its eyes were hollow caverns burning blue.
"Not possible," Arun whispered. "Some kind of… bio-luminescent phenomenon?"
The wolf lunged.
He stumbled back, heart hammering. There was no weapon, no scrap of steel, nothing but a broken branch. His rational mind screamed useless hypotheses: photon refraction, gaseous plasma, no, no—focus!
He raised the branch as the wolf leapt. For an instant, death seemed certain.
Then light burst from his palm.
Not from any device. From him.
A flare of pale gold exploded outward, slamming into the beast midair. It howled, body unraveling into mist, dispersing into nothing.
Arun stared at his hand, trembling. "No. That isn't… that can't…"
The branch dropped. His palm still glowed faintly, as though the laws of physics had bent to his need.
His breath quickened. Logic failed. He sank to his knees in the alien dirt. "This world… this world is not governed by what I know."
Yelena Kovac – The Chains
Yelena awoke not in the wilds but on stone. Cold stone, rough against her back. Her arms were bound in shackles of iron.
Above her, torchlight flickered across a vaulted chamber. Shadows danced on walls carved with sigils that hurt the eyes if studied too long. Men in robes circled her, chanting in that same guttural tongue.
She struggled, but the chains burned at her skin. A man stepped forward—tall, hooded, face half-hidden. His eyes were pale as milk, yet sharp as blades. He carried a dagger etched with runes.
"Offer… from the heavens," he murmured in a tongue she somehow understood, though it was no Earth language. The meaning slid into her mind like a knife into flesh. "The stars themselves deliver tribute."
Her heart slammed in her chest. She understood. They think I am a sacrifice.
Yelena bared her teeth. "Try it. I'll gut you with your own knife."
The priest smiled.
And the chanting rose.
Dr. Hana Okoye – The River
Hana's body broke the river's surface with a gasp, water spilling from her lungs. She clawed at roots and dragged herself onto the bank, coughing violently. Her suit was torn, leg bleeding badly.
She lay in the mud, watching strange fish with glassy scales leap from the water. Each left trails of light like comets. She should have marveled. She should have studied. Instead, pain crushed her thoughts.
A sound reached her—hooves. She raised her head. Across the riverbank, riders emerged. Not men. Centaurs. Their torsos were human, but their lower halves equine, armored in bronze plates. Bows glimmered in their hands.
One dismounted, approaching cautiously. He spoke in that harsh tongue, then softer, as though trying to soothe.
Hana could only groan. Her vision blurred.
The centaur bent, touching her wound. His palm glowed faint green. Heat surged through her leg—pain vanishing, skin sealing.
She gasped. He met her gaze with strange amber eyes.
"You are not of here," he said slowly, the words broken but clear enough. "But you will live."
Return to Elena and Marcus
The meadow smoldered. Elena and Marcus had moved away from the wreckage, heading toward the treeline. Every step was agony, but survival demanded motion.
"What if no one else made it?" Elena whispered.
Marcus didn't answer. His silence was answer enough.
A screech echoed across the sky. Elena looked up—and froze. Something vast moved between the moons. Wings stretched wider than skyscrapers, each beat stirring the clouds.
It was a dragon.
Not from fairy tales, but a living thing of scale and muscle, fire simmering between its teeth. It circled the crash site once, as if memorizing it, before vanishing into the horizon.
Elena swallowed hard. "We are ants here."
Marcus's grip tightened on the scrap of metal. "Ants bite. Hard."
The Web Tightens
Seven had fallen. Already, the world had reached for them—swords, shackles, teeth, and mystery.
Some would be hunted. Some would be worshiped. Some would be broken.
And some would find power they were never meant to wield.
But none could escape the truth.
They were not visitors.
They were prey.