The fall was long and agonizing. As the organic submersible plummeted from the sky-ocean, the bio-organic hull sensed the impending impact.
Suddenly, clusters of gravity spores erupted from the beetle-like shell, expanding into a thick, pulsing parachute made of living tissue.
The descent slowed. The vessel swayed, drifting over a landscape that looked like a painting rendered in bruised purples and jagged blacks.
CRASH.
The submersible slammed into the ground, sliding through a thicket of vegetation before coming to a violent halt.
Damien was the first to kick the hatch open. He stepped out, his boots sinking into a carpet of deep, crimson grass.
The air here was different. It didn't smell of rotting fungus or salty brine rather it smelled of iron and fresh copper, the metallic tang of blood.
The sky above was a heavy, sunless purple, and the horizon was jagged with obsidian mountains that pierced the clouds like broken teeth.
