Reality twisted violently around me. My senses reeled, caught in a storm of shifting light and sound, warping and distorting in ways that defied logic. It was as if space itself was folding inward, stretching and bending in an erratic, chaotic dance. My vision blurred, my stomach churned, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if I was falling, floating, or standing still.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the madness ceased. The world snapped back into place. My feet found solid ground, though my legs wobbled beneath me. I sucked in a breath, my lungs burning as if I'd been holding it for far too long. The chaos had ended—but something was wrong.
A searing pain flared along my upper spine. I hissed, reaching back on instinct. My fingers traced over something foreign—raised patterns burned into my skin. My mind barely had time to register the strange texture before a new wave of nausea hit me like a freight train.
I doubled over, barely managing to stagger forward before heaving up the remnants of my last meal onto the golden sand beneath me. My body trembled, sweat slicking my skin despite the lingering chill clawing at my flesh. Gritting my teeth, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and forced myself to straighten.
The moment I lifted my head, a wave of blinding light assaulted my vision. I winced, instinctively raising an arm to shield my eyes, squinting against the overwhelming brightness. Adjusting my stance, I turned slightly, trying to avoid staring directly at the sun—only to realize there wasn't just one.
There were two.
Twin suns.
The realization hit like a hammer blow, momentarily overriding my disorientation. My breath caught as I gaped at the two celestial bodies hanging high above, their combined radiance casting elongated shadows across the shifting dunes. Slowly, I lowered my arm, my vision adjusting to the alien landscape around me.
Golden sand stretched endlessly in every direction, broken only by jagged rock formations jutting from the earth like the bones of a long-forgotten world. Their sharp edges formed eerie silhouettes against the unnatural sky, standing stark and lifeless beneath the oppressive heat.
"This… this isn't Mars," I muttered, my voice hoarse, barely audible over the gentle but ever-present wind. My fingers curled into fists as an unsettling weight settled in my gut. "Where the hell am i?"
A groggy voice cut through the confusion. "W… where are we?" Benjamin. His words trembled with uncertainty.
I turned sharply, scanning my surroundings. The others were sprawled across the sand, some groaning, others stirring as they began to regain consciousness. Ella pushed herself up, shaking off the disorientation, her wide eyes locking onto the sky.
"Two suns?" she whispered, her tone laced with disbelief. "No… that can't be right."
Emily let out a sharp gasp, patting herself down with growing panic. "No, no, where is my stuff?!" she cried, frantically checking her pockets. Her fingers trembled as she searched for her instruments, but they were gone—just like everything else.
I exhaled sharply, rubbing the lingering ache at the base of my neck. The strange markings had cooled, no longer searing my skin, but their presence was an unshakable reminder that something had fundamentally changed. My fingertips traced over six distinct lines, spiraling inward like a twisted brand. It was unfamiliar, foreign… and ominous.
Frustration bubbled beneath my skin as I instinctively reached for my Burst Rifle—only to grasp at empty air. My stomach twisted with irritation. "Of all the things to lose," I muttered bitterly, scanning the sand around me as if my weapon would magically reappear.
But it didn't.
However, amidst the chaos, a small wave of relief washed over me as my fingers brushed against the familiar hilt of my knife, securely strapped to my side. "At least I've got this," I thought, acknowledging the comfort it provided in the face of uncertainty. It might not be as powerful as my rifle, but having a weapon was better than facing the unknown completely defenseless.
Glancing around, I realized we were all in the same predicament. Then, my eyes landed on Amelia. Unlike the rest of us, she had a handgun strapped to her waist. At least someone's armed. A flicker of relief passed through me, though it was quickly overshadowed by the unease clawing at my gut.
Amelia's voice cut through the silence, her tone firm and composed. "We need to stay focused. First, we assess our situation. See if we can establish communication. Figure out our next steps."
The moment hung fragile in the air—until Emily's panicked voice shattered it like glass.
"My… my radio's just emitting static. Does anyone else have a communication device?" Her voice wavered, teetering on the edge of hysteria.
Owen shook his head, his expression grim. "No," he murmured, barely more than a whisper. "I think… that was all that made it through."
A sharp, ragged breath cut through the group. "What the hell is this?!" Ethan's voice cracked, his usual bravado unraveling. He gestured wildly at the endless stretch of golden dunes, his eyes darting between the twin suns above us. "We were just at the colony! Now—now this?! Two suns?! What the hell is going on?!"
Ella stepped forward, trying to ground him with reason. "Ethan, take a breath. We'll figure this out, but we need to stay calm."
But Ethan wasn't hearing it. His fear morphed into anger, his voice rising with every frantic word. "Calm down? You want me to calm down?! Do you even see where we are? This place is a wasteland!" His hands balled into fists, his whole body trembling.
"Ethan!" Amelia's voice snapped through the air like a whip, her tone sharp with authority. "Get yourself together! Panicking won't help us. We can breathe the air here, which means there's a chance for survival."
"A chance?" Ethan's voice wavered between hysteria and disbelief. "Do you have eyes? Look around!"
He faltered under Amelia's unwavering stare.
"We can breathe," she repeated, firm and unyielding. "And that's what matters right now. So get your shit together."
A thick silence settled over us, the weight of our situation pressing down like a lead blanket.
Emily was the first to break it, her voice quiet but steady enough to be heard. "Okay… okay, Amelia's right." She took a breath, rubbing her arm as she spoke. "Freaking out isn't gonna help, but…" she hesitated, her eyes scanning the group before continuing, "we don't have much. Just a couple days' worth of food and water… maybe less."
She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her sleeve. "I-I mean, if we don't figure something out soon, we're gonna be in trouble."
The words settled uneasily among us, reality sinking in. No one argued—because she was right. The tension thickened, each of us coming to terms with just how little time we had before things got worse.
Amelia sat down, her brows furrowed in deep thought as she worked through the options. The rest of us waited, watching her, desperate for some sense of direction. The silence was thick, stretched taut with uncertainty.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"It's clear we can't afford to stay idle." She stood, dusting the sand from her hands. Determination hardened her features. "We need to get moving."
A sharp scoff broke the moment.
"Oh, really?" Ethan's voice dripped with venomous skepticism. "And where exactly do you suggest we go?"
Something inside me snapped.
"Well, what do you think we should do, Ethan?!" I turned on him, frustration seeping into my voice. "Sit here and bake under the sun until we die? You got a better plan?"
His glare met mine, tension hanging thick between us. Neither of us spoke, neither backing down. But before it could go any further, Amelia's voice cut through.
"Alright, gather everything we can. Atlas is right. We won't survive by standing still. We need to adapt and stay focused!"
Her words hit like a splash of cold water, snapping everyone out of the thick haze of tension. But Ethan's eyes lingered on mine for just a second longer, the fire in them dimming just enough to show the exhaustion beneath his bravado. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of whatever thoughts threatened to surface. I didn't say anything. Instead, I gave him a short nod—acknowledgment, an unspoken truce for now. He hesitated, then huffed and turned away, rubbing the back of his neck before finally moving to help.
That was all we had time for.
The group sprang into action. I took charge of the rations, packing the remaining food into my backpack with careful precision, aware that every morsel counted. The water containers—our most precious resource—were divided between Amelia and Ethan, each securing them tightly to their packs.
Henry focused on salvaging whatever equipment had made it through. He sifted through the scattered remnants, pulling out a notebook, a few pencils, and other odds and ends—none of which were useful in the moment. A small medkit and the last of our communication devices were the only things of real value, though even they hardly felt like a lifeline. With a quiet grunt, he adjusted the weight of his pack, his usual humor absent. In its place was a silent determination, a focus that spoke louder than words.
With our packs full and straps digging into our shoulders, we were as ready as we'd ever be. Amelia took point, setting a steady, determined pace, while the rest of us fell in line behind her. Henry brought up the rear, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger.
The desert stretched endlessly before us, each step dragging under the weight of uncertainty. The realization gnawed at the back of my mind—we had even fewer rations than expected. If we didn't find shelter or resources soon, our situation would turn from difficult to dire.
I glanced at the towering stone formations in the distance, their jagged peaks reaching into the sky like ancient sentinels. The relentless heat of the twin suns bore down on us, but those rocks—if we could reach them—might offer the shade and relief we desperately needed.
As we trudged forward, I absentmindedly rubbed the base of my neck, my fingers tracing the strange pattern etched into my skin. The sensation sent a faint chill through me, as if my body was trying to understand something my mind couldn't yet grasp.
"Hadn't noticed that tattoo before. When did you get it?"
Benjamin's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I froze for a split second, considering my response. Would telling the truth make him suspicious? Would he think I was responsible for whatever had happened?
I forced a shrug. "Just something I got as a kid. My neck's a little sore—probably just landed on it wrong."
Benjamin didn't look convinced. His gaze lingered on me, skeptical, before he pressed again. "Do you even know what that symbol means?"
"No idea," I replied, keeping my tone light. "Just thought it looked cool."
Benjamin frowned slightly, mulling over my words. "Well, it's actually the symbol for the void. Or, for some, the abyss. I guess you can take your pick."
A chill crawled up my spine, but I kept my expression neutral. "Great. I've got a void tattoo," I thought bitterly. Out loud, I forced a chuckle. "Good to know."
Benjamin gave me a look, his voice shifting into something almost thoughtful. "Wouldn't recommend getting a tattoo without knowing what it means, though."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," I waved a hand dismissively, trying to play it off. "I was young, it looked cool. Thought that was reason enough."
The conversation fizzled out as we pressed forward, the only sounds left were the crunch of sand underfoot and the occasional gust of hot wind that did little to ease the relentless heat. The towering stone formations loomed closer now, their jagged peaks reaching skyward like the ribcage of some long-dead titan.
The journey dragged on, each step heavier than the last as the unyielding suns bore down on us. Even with the shadows of the rock formations creeping toward us, the heat was merciless, wrapping around our bodies like a suffocating blanket.
"We should rest," Amelia finally announced, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion we all felt.
"Ohh, I one-hundred percent agree," Henry huffed, his breath coming in short, strained bursts. For once, his usual humor was absent, replaced by sheer fatigue.
"Let's find some proper shade first," Benjamin added, scanning the area. "No sense in stopping just to cook under this heat. Heatstroke'll get you before anything else does."
Amelia's sharp eyes locked onto a cluster of rocky outcroppings in the distance. "There," she pointed. "Looks like a good spot."
No one argued. We adjusted course, trudging toward the formation, our bodies sluggish and drained. When we finally reached the shelter of the towering rocks, the shift in temperature was instant. The air was still dry, but the shade was a welcome reprieve, cool and refreshing against our sun-scorched skin.
We collapsed into the natural alcoves within the stone, leaning back against the rough surface as we caught our breath. The towering formations loomed above like silent sentinels, their weathered surfaces standing against time itself.
For a moment, we had peace.
But as the twin suns continued their slow crawl across the sky, the shadows began to shrink. The relief we'd found was fleeting, the heat creeping closer with every passing hour. We shifted positions instinctively, trying to stay within the dwindling patches of shade. Yet no matter how we moved, the oppressive warmth followed, wearing down our already strained bodies.
Finally, as the day waned, the twin suns began their slow descent, their once-blazing rays softening into warm gold. The harsh heat gradually ebbed, replaced by a growing coolness that seeped into the desert air.
We sat in silence, watching as the sky deepened into streaks of crimson and amber, the colossal stone formations catching the last rays of light. For a moment, they glowed like molten rock, their rugged surfaces illuminated in a fleeting brilliance before the shadows stretched and swallowed them whole.
Then, with a final flash of burning red, the suns dipped below the horizon. Dusk settled in, draping the world in hues of violet and indigo. The desert, once an unforgiving furnace, now exhaled a crisp, soothing breeze. A collective sigh rippled through our group as the heat gave way to the cool embrace of night.
The cool air was welcome, but it didn't change much. We were still stuck out here, and waiting wasn't doing us any favors.
As the cool air settled around us, I leaned back against the rough stone wall of the alcove, my thoughts drifting with the fading light. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind and the distant whisper of shifting sand.
I needed to do something, anything, to keep from losing my mind. Sitting still wasn't an option.
Restless, I picked up a small silverly rock from the ground, feeling its smooth edges press into my palm. Without much thought, I tossed it lightly against the opposite wall. Clink. The sound echoed softly in the confined space, the rhythmic impact filling the void of silence.
Clink. I caught the rock as it bounced back, tossing it again. It was something to focus on, something simple. Better than staring at the desert and doing nothing.
Clink. The sound of the rock hitting the stone grew louder in the quiet night, drawing Ella's attention. She had been staring out at the darkening horizon, her expression thoughtful, but now she turned to me, her gaze narrowing slightly.
"Atlas," she finally said, her tone gentle but firm. "That rock isn't going to solve our problems."
She wasn't wrong. But what else was there to do?
I paused mid-toss, catching the rock in my hand and lowering it. The tension had been building inside me, and the simple act of tossing the rock had been my way of coping, but it wasn't going to get us anywhere.
Nothing was, at this rate.
"We need to figure out something," Ella continued, her gaze shifting back to the unforgiving terrain. "Or we won't make it much further at this pace."
She was right. I nodded, slipping the rock into my pocket and pushing myself up from the wall. "Yeah, you're right. We need a plan."
"I think we should take this chance at night to travel," Henry suggested, his tone tinged with hope. "It's cooler, and we won't need as much water this way."
He had a point. The night air, cool and crisp, felt like a balm after the brutal heat of the day. Traveling now might give us an edge—if only a small one.
Amelia nodded in agreement. "You're right. We need to take advantage of the cooler nights. Resting here won't save us."
I could see the gears turning in her mind, always practical, always thinking ahead. But as much as I wanted to agree, there was a part of me that doubted this plan would be any different from the rest. We were running on fumes, and it felt like we were just delaying the inevitable.
Ethan, as expected, wasn't one to sugarcoat things. His face was set in that somber expression he always wore. "Not like that will save us," he muttered, his words a stark reminder of the harsh reality we faced.
Did he always have to be so pessimistic? I thought, then immediately chided myself for the unfair judgment. He was just stating the truth, no matter how harsh it sounded. And the truth was, we were in deep trouble.
The cool night air was a relief, a stark contrast to the punishing heat of the day. It gave us a second wind, however fleeting, and for the first time in hours, moving forward didn't feel like an impossible task. As we walked, our breaths came out in soft puffs, barely visible at first. A thin haze clung to the ground, so faint I almost didn't notice it.
At first, I thought it was just exhaustion making my vision blur, but as we pressed on, the mist thickened, swirling around our ankles, twisting in slow, curling patterns with every step. It clung to the ground in an unnatural way, like something alive, waiting. An eerie presence, yet oddly comforting—almost like the world itself was softening, cushioning each step through the shifting dunes.
There was something about the night—about moving through darkness—that felt different. Less exposed, maybe. Or maybe I was just desperate for anything that felt like a change in our favor. With renewed determination—or sheer exhaustion—we kept moving, the mist rising ever so slightly as it followed our march.
I found my gaze drifting upward to the sky. The stars were breathtaking, a dazzling display that stretched endlessly in all directions. It should have been comforting, should have reminded me of home, but as I searched the familiar patterns—Orion, the Big Dipper, anything—I came up empty.
Nothing was familiar.
A hollow feeling crept into my chest, but I pushed it aside. There were more immediate concerns—like getting through the night without collapsing.
With each step, fatigue settled deeper into my bones, a dull ache spreading through my limbs. The cool air had helped for a while, but it didn't change the fact that we were utterly spent. My eyelids grew heavier with every stride, and the others weren't faring any better.
"We need to rest," I finally said, glancing at my companions. Ella looked like she was running on sheer willpower, and even Amelia's usual determination was faltering.
Henry, panting as he trudged through the sand, readily agreed. "Yeah, I could use a break too."
Not long after, we stumbled upon a dune that offered a slight barrier from the wind. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. The mist lingered around us as we sank into the cold sand, curling in slow, lazy patterns as if it too was settling in for the night.
Fatigue hit hard, pulling us under like a rising tide. One by one, we succumbed to sleep, the cool desert night offering us a fragile, fleeting reprieve.
I just hoped it was enough to keep us going.
With the first light of morning, Ella roused us from our makeshift beds, a sense of urgency in her voice "we should get moving, its best to use the cool morning air.
"Oh, come on, this early," Henry groaned, rubbing his eyes and resisting the pull of consciousness.
"Come on, let's get moving," I insisted, attempting to inject some motivation into his sluggish morning. After a moment of reluctance, he finally acquiesced, reluctantly dragging himself out of his makeshift bed.
We trudged onward, the monotony of our footsteps etching a hesitant rhythm into the alien terrain. Each step felt heavier than the last as the unfamiliar landscape stretched out endlessly before us. The promise of discovery had long since lost its allure, replaced by a growing sense of dread that gnawed at the edges of our resolve. The unknown wasn't just out there—it was inside us, pressing down like a weight we couldn't shake.
As the day dragged on, we stumbled across intermittent camps—brief, inadequate oases where we could rest and try to refuel. But each stop only emphasized the futility of our journey. With every passing mile, our supplies dwindled, the vastness of the unknown consuming our resources faster than we could replenish them. Conversations that once held a spark of optimism had become hushed whispers, laden with unspoken fears. The silence between us was more suffocating than the desert heat.
How much longer can we keep this up? The question burned in the back of my mind, but I shoved it down, knowing that if I let it take hold, it would consume me. We were all running on fumes, teetering on the edge of panic, and it wouldn't take much to push us over.
It was during one of these tense moments that the simmering tension boiled over. Ethan, gulping down water as if it were an endless supply, drew Henry's ire.
"Hey, man, slow down with that," Henry said, his voice taut with barely contained anxiety. He eyed Ethan's water bottle like it was the last lifeline in a sea of despair. "We need to conserve what we have. You can't just drink it all in one go."
Ethan, his nerves frayed from the relentless journey, snapped back, "I'll drink as much as I want. You don't get to tell me what to do."
Henry's face tightened with frustration. "Just take small sips, Ethan. We can't afford to waste water," he urged, his voice tinged with desperation. But Ethan cut him off with a sharp, mocking smirk.
"Oh, is that how it is? Well, if I run out, I'll just take yours. Simple as that," Ethan shot back, stepping toward Henry with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Back off, man. I'm serious," Henry warned, his voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger as he tried to hold his ground.
"Serious about what? You think you can make me back off?" Ethan challenged, his tone dripping with defiance as he got in Henry's face, the tension snapping like a live wire.
Damn it, Ethan, not now. I could feel the panic rising in the group, a palpable wave of fear that threatened to engulf us all. Before I could intervene, Henry shoved Ethan away, but Ethan retaliated instantly, lunging at Henry and throwing a wild punch that sent him sprawling to the ground. The next thing I knew, Ethan was on top of him, raining down blows in a blind fury.
Rushing over, I yanked Ethan off Henry before he could do any more damage. "Piss off!" Ethan yelled, jabbing his elbow at me with a desperate, wild swing.
I blocked the hit, then kicked his leg out from under him, wrapping my arms around his neck in a chokehold. "Calm down! We don't need this kind of trouble," I shouted, tightening my grip as he struggled against me.
Seconds felt like hours as he fought against the hold, the panic and anger coursing through him like a fever. But eventually, he stopped resisting, the fight draining out of him. "Let me go! I'll be calm," Ethan grunted, his voice strained with frustration and exhaustion. Releasing him, I watched as he slumped to the ground, gasping for air, the reality of what had just happened beginning to sink in.
What the hell are we doing? We're falling apart, and it's only getting worse.
Turning to Henry, I helped him up, checking if he was okay. "You good?"
"I'll survive, but I just need a moment," Henry replied, his voice shaky as he tried to steady himself. The fear in his eyes mirrored what I felt—an unspoken understanding that we were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.
Amelia's voice cut through the tense air, her expression tired but still commanding. "What were you thinking, Ethan?" she demanded, her tone cold enough to freeze the desert sand.
Ethan's eyes shifted, guilt and frustration warring on his face. He struggled to form a coherent response, knowing that Amelia's calm yet firm demeanor demanded accountability.
Her words held an unspoken threat. "If you don't explain, I'll take all your supplies and leave you here to die."
Ethan's shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions hitting him like a blow. "I... I'm sorry. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I just snapped under the pressure," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret as he avoided meeting Amelia's eyes.
Without another word, Amelia turned to Benjamin, her gaze softening slightly. "Can you tend to Henry's injuries? He needs some bandages."
Benjamin nodded, quickly moving to help Henry as Amelia directed the rest of us to find a place to rest and regroup.
"Let's find some shade and take a breather. We need to calm down and think clearly," Amelia concluded, her tone firm, signaling the end of the argument, but not the lingering tension between us.
Gratefully, we took refuge in the rocky terrain, the jagged formations offering a brief respite from the relentless heat. I sank into the shadows, letting the coolness soothe my aching muscles, but my mind refused to rest. Doubts gnawed at me, curling around my thoughts like a parasite. Are we just wandering aimlessly? Destined to collapse from exhaustion in this barren wasteland? No landmarks, no sign of civilization—just endless sand. What if there was no end to this desolation?
I forced my gaze to the horizon, willing myself to focus on anything but the gnawing uncertainty. The sky stretched out in a vast, unbroken blue, too perfect, too empty. Rain. If only. I imagined the heavens breaking open, the downpour sinking into the parched earth, cooling this forsaken land. But no clouds formed, no storm gathered—just the unrelenting sun.
Then something shifted in the distance.
The dunes… moved.
I blinked, straightening as I squinted against the glare. The rippling motion was subtle, like the rolling waves of an unseen tide, but unmistakable. My pulse quickened. Am I imagining this?
I rubbed my eyes and looked again.
Nothing.
The sand lay still, as lifeless as before, the dunes exactly where they had been. A slow exhale left my lips. Great, now I'm seeing things.
Shaking my head, I reached for my canteen, the cool metal against my palm grounding me. I took a slow sip, letting the water settle my nerves. It was just the heat, exhaustion messing with my mind. That had to be it.
Glancing at the others, I caught sight of Ethan slumped against a rock, his shoulders sagging, eyes hollow. Whatever stubborn hope had kept him going seemed drained by the vast emptiness around us. I couldn't blame him. The desert had a way of stripping you bare, leaving nothing behind but raw survival instinct.
With nothing left to do until nightfall, I let my head rest against the stone, closing my eyes. The tension never fully left me, but exhaustion dulled its edge, dragging me into a light, restless doze.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the air cooled, and the familiar mist crept back in. It slithered through the dunes, thickening around our feet like a living thing, its arrival silent, eerie.
Ella was the first to notice. "It's back," she murmured, watching the mist swirl, her curiosity outweighing any apprehension.
The mist had an unnatural quality—ever present, yet seemingly appearing from nowhere. Despite its mystery, the cool embrace was welcome against sunburned skin, offering a fleeting relief from the desert's relentless grip.
"Haven't you ever wondered where this mist comes from?" Ella asked, tilting her head as if searching for an answer in the shifting tendrils.
I shrugged, unwilling to dwell on it. "Kinda, but I'm just glad it's here."
Henry, less convinced, kept his distance. "We don't even know if it's safe," he muttered, eyes darting between us and the mist as if expecting it to strike.
Ella smirked, undeterred. "Well, we haven't dropped dead yet, have we?"
"True, but we also don't know what it's doing to us," Henry countered, concern lacing his words. He had a point—this mist could be doing who knows what to our bodies.
"It's probably just water vapor," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's enjoy the coolness while we can."
As we pressed on through the night, Emily's curiosity got the better of her. She tore a piece of fabric from her uniform and waved it around in the mist, hoping to collect some droplets. I watched her, a small part of me amused by her determination to understand everything, even in a place that made no sense. She managed to gather a few drops—enough to confirm there was moisture in the air, but not enough to tell us anything useful.
At least she's trying, I thought, though my focus soon drifted elsewhere.
Mesmerized by the swirling mist, I felt a faint buzz on the back of my neck—a strange sensation that made me pause. My eyes caught something in the distance, just at the edge of my vision. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a small, dark shape sitting in the fog. A cat? It was still, watching.
But when I tried to focus on it, the shape seemed to dissolve, merging with the mist as if it had never been there.
What the hell was that? I took a sip of water, trying to shake the image from my mind, but it lingered, like a ghost haunting the periphery of my thoughts. I kept walking, trying to ignore it, but every time I looked, the shape was there—just out of reach, just beyond the fog.
Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I veered off course, heading toward where I'd seen it.
"Hey, where are you going?" Henry's voice called out, snapping me back to reality as he caught up with me.
"Oh, sorry," I replied, trying not to sound too weird. "I just thought this area had denser fog, so I wanted to check it out."
Henry scanned the mist-filled surroundings, his suspicion not entirely gone. "Well, I guess you're right," he conceded. It was true—there was a flow to the mist here, a subtle movement that seemed to be pulling it from one direction.
"Hey, everyone, I think we should head this way," Henry called out, his voice cutting through the fog and snapping the others out of their trance-like state.
Owen jogged over to join us, followed by the rest of the group, all curious about the sudden change in direction.
"What's making you want to go this way?" Ella asked as she approached, her curiosity as sharp as ever.
"Take a look. There's a slight flow coming from that direction," Henry explained, pointing deeper into the mist. His voice carried a note of certainty that was hard to argue with.
"You're right," Owen agreed, his analytical mind quickly picking up on the subtle signs that Henry had noticed.
Amelia nodded, her gaze fixed on the mist-shrouded path ahead. "I guess it won't hurt to give it a try," she said, her tone decisive. At least it's a direction, I thought, though the unease from earlier still lingered in my mind.
As everyone discussed their thoughts on the new direction, I scanned the mist once more, searching for that mysterious figure. But it was gone, leaving me with nothing but questions. Shaking it off for now, I continued walking in the direction where I had last seen it, hoping that whatever was out there would reveal itself soon enough.
Eventually, weariness caught up with us, demanding that we stop and rest. The terrain offered little comfort, but it was better than collapsing from exhaustion. I settled in, the fatigue wrapping around me like an old, familiar companion. It didn't take long for sleep to claim me, pulling me into a deep, dreamless slumber.
I'm not sure how much time passed, but the moment my eyes fluttered open, a sharp, searing pain shot through my leg. Instinctively, I jerked upright, my heart pounding as I searched for the source of the discomfort. To my horror, I saw a small, insect-like creature gnawing at my leg, leaving behind a trail of stinging cuts.
What the hell? Panic surged through me, and I kicked the thing away, sending it scuttling into the sandy terrain. Watching it scramble into the shadows, I quickly inspected the damage it had inflicted on my leg, which was now partially bleeding.
"Damn, that stings," I muttered, wincing as I tore a strip of cloth from my shirt to wrap the small cuts. My eyes lingered on the spot where the bug had scuttled off, disappearing into the sand. I took a deep breath of the cool morning air, but my throat protested, dry and raw, reminding me of how desperately I needed water. It felt like sandpaper and my parched lips cracked with the slightest movement. Reaching into our dwindling supplies, I grimaced at how little water we had left, barely enough for a single sip—just enough to dampen my cracked lips.
As I sat there, with the sun still hidden below the horizon, an uneasy feeling settled in my gut. The desert was eerily silent, as if the whole world had paused. I scanned the surroundings for any signs of life, but the landscape remained still and empty. With a sigh, I pushed myself to my feet, stifling a yawn as I stretched, the fatigue of the journey still weighing heavy on my body.
Moving quietly, I went to everyone, gently nudging them awake. As they stirred, I recounted my encounter with the insect, showing them the small wound it had left on my leg.
Benjamin's eyes narrowed with concern as he inspected the injury. His hands were steady as he unwrapped the makeshift bandage and applied something from his kit to prevent infection. "You're lucky it wasn't worse," he said, his voice calm and reassuring.
"Thanks, Benjamin," I muttered, grateful for his steady presence.
"Your welcome," he replied, his focus still on the task at hand, as he rewraped it.
Ella, chimed in. "You know, if we could catch one of those things, they might be a potential food source. If they're edible, that is."
Ethan, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. "That's great and all, but where could we possibly find one?" His tone was skeptical, but there was a hint of curiosity there, too.
Emily, who had been quietly observing, spoke up with a thoughtful look. "If it's anything like Earth, bugs tend to stay hidden from the sun's heat. We could check under any outcropping of rocks we find."
"That sounds like it could work," Amelia said, nodding in agreement. "While we walk, let's keep an eye out for a rocky outcrop."
The morning walk started off relatively refreshing. The air was still cool, and for a moment, it almost felt like we could catch a break. But as the suns began to rise, the temperature increased significantly. I could feel the relentless heat creeping in, and my skin was already starting to burn again. I decided to take my knife and tear up the outer layer of my standard uniform, fashioning a makeshift robe to protect myself from the sun.
Just as I finished, Benjamin's caught sight of a small outcropping of rocks in the distance. "There," he said, pointing it out. "Shade and a place to check for those bugs."
I didn't need to be told twice. The thought of cool shade was enough to get me moving, so I jogged ahead, feeling the refreshing coolness envelop me as soon as I stepped under the shelter of the rocks. The temperature drop was immediate, the sun's relentless assault finally relenting.
Emily, ever eager to jump into action, was already at work flipping over rocks with Ella at her side. The two of them made an effective team—Emily's meticulous nature balanced by Ella's adventurous spirit. Watching them, I couldn't help but appreciate how well they complemented each other, even in a situation like this.
As the others busied themselves, I allowed myself a moment to soak in the coolness, the relief washing over my exhausted body. Gradually, as my senses settled, I began to look around, curiosity getting the better of me. My eyes roamed over the unusual landscape—almost as if water had once carved out a dome that thinned as it reached the ground. The structure provided us with shade, but there was something else about it that caught my attention.
I walked around the rock, noticing the cracks that ran along its surface, some wide enough to slip a hand into. Running my fingers along the rough exterior, I could feel the age in the stone, the way time had worn it down, leaving deep fissures in its once-solid form. One crack, in particular, was wide enough for me to explore. I hesitated for a moment, feeling an odd sensation as I reached inside. The space felt different, almost like it was hollow.
Hollow? The thought struck me as strange, but I couldn't quite confirm it from the upper part of the crack. Circling the formation again, I found another crack that ran along the bottom. I crouched down, slipping my hand into the narrow opening. It felt strange—empty, as if there was nothing but void beneath the surface. Is this whole thing hollow? I wondered, a shiver running down my spine as a cool breeze suddenly struck my hand from within the dark space, making me instinctively pull back.
The whole thing's hollow—not just the rock but under me as well? I stood up quickly, carefully stomping the ground beneath me, half-expecting it to give way. Relief washed over me when it held firm, though the unease lingered. Turning back to the rock, I rapped my knuckles against it, but the sound was muted, almost nonexistent.
Intrigued, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small rock I'd been carrying. I tapped it against the exterior in a rhythmic beat—a habit I'd picked up during missions. The first tap echoed faintly, a hollow, eerie sound that bounced back at me, confirming the empty space within.
I paused for a moment, listening to the echo reverberate before continuing the rhythm. I almost lost myself in the repetition until a sudden movement caught my eye. A giant bug, nearly the size of my forearm, lunged at me with massive pincers snapping dangerously close to my face. I shot back, my heart slamming against my ribs as I watched the creature steadyed itself slowly crawl out of the crack in front of me.
The thing was a nightmare—an elongated, ant-like body covered in dark, prickly hair that bristled from holes across its form. Its legs, far too many for comfort, moved in a coordinated, unsettling rhythm. Massive pincers served as its mouthparts, clicking together with a sound that made my skin crawl.
My startled jump away from the rock drew the attention of my companions. They were beside me in an instant, concern etched across their faces. Emily nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of the monstrous insect, her eyes wide with shock. Before anyone could react further, the bug darted toward Ella with alarming speed. She screamed, a high-pitched sound of pure terror, and made a frantic dash for safety.
Without thinking, I grabbed the nearest rock and hurled it at the creature, but it shattered on impact, barely slowing the thing down. The bug's attention shifted back to me, its pincers snapping as it advanced with an unnatural speed. Panic welled up inside me as I scrambled backward, my mind racing to figure out how to stop it.
But just as it was about to reach me, Henry sprang into action. He grabbed a large stone and smashed it down onto the bug with all his strength. The sound of cracking echoed through the air, the bug's body crumpling under the weight of the rock. For a moment, we all stood there in shocked silence, the adrenaline still coursing through us.
As the sun's continued to beat down on us, Henry's question lingered in the air, "What did you do to make it that angry?"
I chuckled, trying to alleviate some of the tension. "I don't know, ask the bug."
With cautious curiosity, Benjamin suggested we take a closer look. Henry, lifting the rock that had crushed the insect, revealed a surprisingly intact body. Though its carapase on its head was caved in, with greyish liquid seeping out between the cracks.
"Can you carry it over?" Ella asked, motioning to a nearby rock.
Henry, appearing a bit squeamish, quickly declined the task. The rest followed suit, sharing a collective reluctance to touch the creature. Sighing deeply, I relented, picking up the lifeless bug by one of its legs and carrying it over to a rock that Ella had designated.
"Atlas, can I have your knife?" Ella requested.
"Sure"
Handing Ella my knife, I watched as she, with Benjamin's help, started dissecting the bug. The exoskeleton was surprisingly tough, making me wince every time Ella used the knife like a hammer to try and crack it open. You're going to dull it, I thought, grimacing with each whack.
After a few more determined strikes, they finally managed to break through the hard outer shell, revealing the bug's inner workings. Benjamin took over, his hands steady as he carefully peeled back the layers, identifying muscles and organs that looked vaguely similar to Earth's creatures. But as he went deeper, he found something unfamiliar—a sac, tucked near the center, that seemed to pulse slightly.
When he made a small cut into it, a stream of liquid poured out.
"Is that… water?" Owen asked, eyes wide as he leaned in, fascinated.
Henry's face lit up with excitement. "I think it is! If this thing stores water, we could be sitting on a goldmine for survival out here."
Ella, ever enthusiastic, chimed in, "That makes sense! Camels have water sacs too, right? It's how they can go without drinking for so long."
Emily, who had been watching silently, raised an eyebrow. "Actually, that's not how it works at all." She crossed her arms, her tone carrying a hint of authority. "Camels don't store water in a special sac like people think. They store it in their bloodstream, in their red blood cells. It allows them to survive long periods without water by maintaining hydration internally."
Ella blinked, a frown forming. "Wait, really? I thought it was a water sack or something in their humps."
Emily shook her head, clearly in her element. "Nope. Their humps are mostly fat reserves. It's a common misconception. Camels are efficient at retaining water, but they don't carry it around in a pouch like people believe. They're just really good at regulating how they lose water. That's how they survive in the desert."
Ella still looked skeptical. "So, they don't have a special way to store water? What about how long they can go without drinking?"
Emily gave a small smile, her patience showing. "They can survive for weeks without water, but that's because they can lose up to 25% of their body weight in water and still function. When they do drink, they can gulp down about 30 gallons in one go. But no water sack. Trust me, I've read about it."
Ella paused, clearly absorbing the new information. "Huh. Okay, I guess I was wrong about that one."
With the crucial question looming, I cut in. "So... is it drinkable?"
"We'll have to test it," Benjamin said cautiously, "but it looks clean enough. We can't be sure yet if it's safe."
Ella nodded, still a little thrown by Emily's correction but eager to help. She pulled out an empty can from her bag and carefully poured the liquid into it. "Better safe than sorry," she muttered.
Owen eagerly watched as she did so, "So how do you test it?"
Ella sifted through her bag, retrieving a box containing various substances. She placed a small, silvery rock on a smooth surface and proceeded to pour the liquid onto it. To our astonishment, the mixture began to sputter and dissolve.
Ella confirmed the result with a grin. "Congrats, it's water!"
"What was that metal?" I inquired, somewhat intrigued.
"It's a sodium mixture. It's highly reactive with water," Ella explained.
"That's pretty cool," Henry commented.
"All that's left to do now is to drink," Ella said, her voice carrying a hint of determination.
Before anyone could protest, she brought the container to her lips and took a hearty swig of the water. We stared at her in shock as she gulped it down, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tasted it. She paused, swishing the water around in her mouth before swallowing.
Ella finally pulled the container away, smacking her lips thoughtfully. "It's... earthy and a bit stale, but it's water," she declared with a shrug, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Ella! You can't just drink that, even if it's water. Think of the diseases," Benjamin scolded, his tone sharp with concern as he stepped forward, his brow furrowed in worry.
Ella just gave a small, reassuring smile. "I know, I know. But we dont exactly have choices out here. Better to risk a bit of stale water than dehydration."
Benjamin, while still concerned, understood her predicament, "I get it, but just be more careful next time, alright?"
Ella agreed, albeit with a hint of nonchalance, "Well, I guess we'll see if I get sick."
Amelia, always practical, was quick to suggest we make the most of our newfound resources. "What about air-drying the meat?" she inquired, glancing at the creature.
Henry nodded, considering Amelia's idea. "It's hot enough out here, so as long as we keep it in the sun, it should dry out just fine."
With that plan in mind, we spent the rest of the day scouring the area for any additional resources. As we worked, a thought occurred to me about how we might find more of those bugs. Remembering my earlier encounter with the hollow rock, I decided to share the idea with the group.
"Hey, I think I've got an idea on how we can find more of those bugs," I said, catching everyone's attention. "When I was checking out that rock earlier, I noticed it's hollow inside. I tapped on it with a small stone, and that seemed to draw one of the bugs out. Maybe we can use the same method to coax more of them out."
Ella's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "Sounds like a plan. Let's give it a try."
I pulled the small rock from my pocket and approached one of the larger rock formations nearby. "It's simple," I explained, "Just tap in a rhythmic pattern, like this." I demonstrated by tapping the rock, the sound echoing faintly through the hollow space beneath.
The others gathered around, watching closely as I continued tapping, the rhythm steady and deliberate. For a while, there was nothing—just the echo of the taps and the soft rustle of the desert wind. I kept at it, determined, even as the seconds stretched into what felt like minutes.
Just as I began to wonder if the method would work again, a faint movement caught my eye. It was subtle at first, just a slight twitch in the shadows of a crack. I continued tapping, and gradually, more movement followed—small legs and antennae slowly emerging from the crevices in the rocks. The bugs were cautious at first, but eventually, they began to creep out into the open, drawn by the persistent rhythm.
Using this method, we managed to coax out two more of the ant-like creatures, along with a smaller beetle-like one. Unlike the others, the beetle didn't seem to have the same water-storing ability, but it was another source of food, and we weren't about to be picky.
We set up some rocks in the scorching sun to cook the bug meat, the heat quickly working its magic. As the smell of cooking filled the air, we kept a close eye on our meager supplies, making sure to stretch what little we had as far as it would go. The heat was relentless, but there was a quiet satisfaction in knowing we were making progress, however small.
As we sat down to rest, Amelia voiced a concern that had been on all our minds. "These bugs still don't provide us with everything we need. With the amount of food we have at the moment, it'll last us at most a day and a half."
Ethan, who had been surprisingly quiet the past day, leaned forward with a thoughtful look. His tone was calmer, less sharp than usual. "Any chance we'll find more rocky terrain? Seems like the best place for bugs."
Amelia glanced toward the horizon, squinting as if she could will the terrain into something more promising. "Hard to say for sure, but it does look like we're heading toward rougher ground. There are a few more rocky spots in the distance we could check out. Could be good for a camp."
Emily, always ready with a bit of optimism, nodded in agreement. "I noticed the same. If we keep hitting places like that, we might actually find enough to keep moving. Plus, it gives us a goal to aim for, right?" Her words carried a certain hopefulness, something that felt like a rare comfort.
Henry paused thoughtfully, his eyes drifting over the drying strips of meat as he considered our options. "If we manage to catch at least two more of those creatures," he began, gesturing toward the drying meat and continuing, "we could stretch it out for another two days. As long as we keep catching more before we run out, this should sustain us for a while."
A quiet agreement settled between us. The heat was as unrelenting as ever, our exhaustion growing with each passing hour, but having a plan, however fragile, was enough to keep us moving.
Shortly after, we packed up and set out toward the next rocky outcrop, falling into a familiar rhythm. The days blurred together as we searched tirelessly, flipping over stones and testing the ground for signs of movement. Our bodies ached, and the desert stretched on endlessly, but we kept going. The rocky formations offered just enough shelter to sustain our hunt—never enough to make us feel secure, but enough to keep us alive.
It was during these days of endless trekking that Ella began documenting our surroundings. With the salvaged notebook in hand, she recorded everything—landmarks, potential food sources, strange animal behaviors. Benjamin, proving to have a surprisingly steady hand, helped her sketch rough but detailed illustrations of the creatures we encountered. The drawings added a strange sense of permanence, like we were carving out proof that we existed here, that we were learning, adapting.
The small journal became our record of survival, a growing collection of knowledge about the land around us. It wasn't just about making sense of this world—it was a reminder that we still had control over something, however small.
Then, on the third day, something changed.
As we reached the crest of a small ridge, the land before us shifted. Against the horizon, jagged peaks of a distant mountain range rose like the teeth of an ancient beast, their sharp silhouettes cutting through the haze.
We stopped in our tracks, staring in disbelief.
"Hell yeah! Tell me you see that!" I blurted out, hardly able to believe my own eyes. It was the first sign of real progress in days, and my excitement bubbled over.
Henry, standing beside me, let out a low whistle. "Don't worry, you're not losing it, Atlas. I see them too." His voice held a rare tone of optimism, something that had been missing since we'd begun this journey.
The sight of those mountains was like a mirage, but this time, it wasn't a trick. It was real, and the hope it stirred in us was almost palpable. My legs were screaming, my throat dry as sandpaper, but seeing that range on the horizon gave me the push I needed to keep going.
Amelia nodded, her eyes reflecting that same glimmer of hope. "Let's not waste any more time. Keep moving. We can rest once we get there," she said, her tone firm but encouraging.
With renewed determination, we pressed on, quickening our pace. The rocky terrain began to take over the barren desert, giving us firmer ground to walk on. Every step brought us closer to those towering peaks. The jagged edges of the mountains loomed larger with each passing minute, standing tall like guardians, promising shelter and relief from the relentless suns.
The landscape around us began to shift, and those distant peaks became the singular focus of our thoughts. We moved with a purpose—no more wandering, no more detours—just a straight path to those mountains.
But just as that sense of progress began to take hold, I noticed something strange. Peering into the distance, the dunes ahead seemed to move, almost as if they were alive. I blinked, thinking it was a mirage, a trick of the heat. I took a quick swig of water, trying to shake off the creeping delirium.
When I looked back, the illusion had solidified into something far more real. The dunes weren't shifting—they were rising, bulging like something massive was stirring beneath them. A heavy weight settled in my chest as the ground beneath us began to quake. The air pulsed with a strange, ominous energy that sent a chill down my spine. I barely had time to process it before the rumble grew louder, deep and menacing, shaking the earth beneath our feet.
I turned to the others, alarmed, but before I could speak, the ground split open in the distance. A mound of sand swelled unnaturally before erupting, and then—two towering fins sliced through the surface like jagged blades. They jutted upward, rigid at first, before flexing and undulating, catching the wind like something testing the air. The motion sent cascades of golden grains tumbling down the sides of the dunes, the shifting sands hissing as they fell.
Then, the creature emerged.
A colossal, snake-like body followed the fin's path, its sinuous form rising from the depths like something born from nightmares. Its shimmering scales caught the light of the twin suns, reflecting hues of bronze and deep obsidian as it slithered forward with terrifying grace. The fin's , now fully exposed, ran down the length of its spine, jagged and ridged like a serrated crest, twitching as if sensing the air itself.
As its enormous head lifted from the sand, I caught sight of its draconian features—elongated jaws lined with serrated fangs, flaring nostrils that exhaled bursts of hot dust, and eyes that burned with an eerie, predatory intelligence. The slit pupils contracted as they locked onto us, a gaze so piercing it sent a primal chill down my spine.
I could hear Ethan's panicked voice echoing my thoughts. "What in the actual hell is that thing?!"
Time seemed to slow as the creature moved, its massive body sliding effortlessly through the sand, closing the distance between us with terrifying speed. My heart pounded in my chest, and fear surged through me, but instinct kicked in.
"Run now!" I shouted, already sprinting before the words had fully left my mouth.
The ground trembled beneath my feet as I ran, the rocky terrain offering a small reprieve from the soft sand that had slowed us before. I didn't dare look back, the sound of the creature's monstrous body moving through the desert hot on our heels. My legs burned, my lungs screamed for air, but I kept running, the jagged peaks of the mountain range now tantalizingly close.
Just as we reached the base of a rocky outcrop, the ground exploded beneath us.
The impact was like a localized earthquake, sending shockwaves through the stone. I staggered but kept moving, heart pounding in my throat as a cascade of loose rock tumbled from above. The creature had slammed into the stone with terrifying force, momentarily dazed but already beginning to recover. It wasn't giving up—it was toying with us, its massive body burrowing beneath the sand, circling like a predator sizing up its prey.
A strangled cry from behind made my blood run cold.
Henry.
The sand beneath him had begun to shift unnaturally, parting in a widening spiral. My breath caught as I saw it—an enormous set of jaws rising from the earth, fanged ridges snapping open like the gates of hell itself. Time slowed as Henry, frozen in horror, barely had time to inhale before the creature's mouth surged toward him, the monstrous void of its maw ready to swallow him whole.
"Henry, MOVE!" I bellowed, but he couldn't—his legs had locked, eyes wide with terror.
Then, in a blur of motion, Benjamin lunged.
His hands clamped onto Henry's collar, yanking him backward with all his strength. The force sent them both sprawling across the ground just as the creature's jaws slammed shut where Henry had stood a second before. A spray of sand shot into the air from the sheer force, dusting us in a fine golden mist. The sound was deafening—a monstrous crunch that rattled my bones. Had Benjamin been even a second slower, Henry would have been gone.
Henry hit the ground hard, coughing violently, his face pale as death. His breath came in rapid, shallow gasps as he realized how close he had come to being devoured. Benjamin, still gripping Henry's shirt in a death grip, panted heavily, his expression a mix of shock and anger.
"Don't—" Benjamin's voice shook, his usual calm demeanor cracking. "Don't ever freeze like that again."
But we had no time to recover.
A guttural roar erupted from beneath the sand, the creature furious at losing its prey. It circled beneath us like a shark, the dunes trembling under its sheer weight. Then—another lunge. The ground caved in slightly, and for a moment, I thought it was going to break through right under us.
"We need to move—NOW!" Amelia shouted.
Still dragging Henry to his feet, Benjamin shoved him forward, and we all bolted. The jagged rocks ahead were our only salvation. The shifting sands beneath us threatened to pull us under with each step, but fear drove us forward.
The mountains. We had to reach the mountains.
Then, a deafening whoosh—sand exploded behind us.
I turned just in time to see Ethan stumbling, his foot catching on an uneven patch of sand. His arms flailed as he fought to regain balance, his breath ragged. His eyes locked onto mine for a split second—pure panic etched across his face.
The ground beneath him began to shift.
"No—" I started, but it was too late.
The sand caved inward, collapsing like a sinkhole. A monstrous mouth erupted from below, its gaping maw stretching impossibly wide as it surged up from beneath him. Ethan barely had time to scream before the massive jaws clamped shut, swallowing him whole.
The world froze. My body locked up as I watched, unable to move, unable to process the sheer brutality of it. Just seconds ago, he had been right there. And now… gone.
There was no trace of him. No blood. No struggle. Just the smooth, undisturbed sand, as if he had never existed at all.
A stunned silence fell over the group, our sprint momentarily forgotten as horror settled in our bones. But the creature didn't stop—it burrowed back into the sand, circling, hunting.
It wasn't done yet.
"RUN!" I didn't even know who screamed it, but the word jolted us back into motion.
The beast burst from the sand once more, its massive body arcing high into the air, casting an impossibly large shadow over us. It crashed down just behind, its fin carving through the dunes like a blade, narrowly missing Henry as he dove out of the way.
We ran. We ran like hell.
The second our feet hit solid stone, we collapsed, gasping for breath, our bodies trembling from exhaustion and shock. My heart pounded against my ribs, my ears still ringing from the creature's furious roar. The ground beneath us was solid, unyielding—a stark contrast to the shifting, treacherous sand we had barely escaped. But even as we lay there, panting and struggling to process what had just happened, the creature still loomed at the desert's edge, thrashing and clawing at the rock, its massive form barely held back by the natural barrier.
Ethan was gone.
The realization sat like a lead weight in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
We scrambled further up the stone slope, instincts screaming at us to put as much distance between ourselves and the sand as possible. My legs felt like lead, my muscles protesting with every shaky step, but I didn't stop until we had reached a higher point where the jagged cliffs shielded us from view. Even then, my body refused to relax, every nerve still on edge, waiting for another attack.
Emily was the first to break.
She had been quiet, too quiet, but now she sat trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as if trying to hold herself together. Her breaths came out in uneven gasps, her pale face slack with shock. "H...He just died right in front of us, just like that," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "He was just—" She sucked in a sharp breath, as if speaking the words would make them more real, more unbearable.
Ella moved quickly, as if breaking from a trance, and rushed to Emily's side. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. "We'll be okay," Ella whispered, though her voice wavered. "We have to be okay."
Owen let out a shuddering breath, pressing his hands against his face. He was shaking, his whole body wracked with barely-contained sobs. "What the hell was that thing?" he croaked. His gaze darted between us, wild with disbelief. "We almost died out there. Ethan..." His voice broke on the name.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, but forced myself to speak. "We survived." The words felt empty even as I said them. "That's what matters right now. We're still here."
No one answered.
Benjamin stood off to the side, silent. He hadn't moved since we collapsed, his expression unreadable as he stared off into the distance. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides, but his eyes… His eyes were somewhere else. Then, slowly, like someone dragging themselves out of deep water, he blinked, refocusing on the present. He took a slow breath before straightening up, shaking off the dust clinging to his clothes.
His voice was steady, but something had shifted in it. "Atlas is right. We're alive, and that's what matters most right now." Then his tone hardened, laced with urgency. "If anyone's hurt—cuts, scrapes, anything—tell me now. We can't afford to ignore injuries."
It was a command, not a suggestion. But underneath the firmness, I could hear it—desperation. Not fear of the creature. Fear of losing anyone else.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Ethan had been right there. Running with us. And then, in an instant, he was gone. The sand had swallowed him whole, leaving behind nothing but the echo of his last, terrified scream.
I glanced at the others, my heart hammering as the gruesome image replayed in my mind. The shock hung over us like a suffocating weight, pressing down with an unbearable heaviness. It was in their faces, the way their breaths came in short, panicked bursts, their eyes darting between each other, searching for some kind of reassurance that none of us could give. But the creature's roar still rumbled in the distance, a grim reminder that our nightmare wasn't over.
Benjamin moved through the group with quick, methodical precision, checking each of us. A few cuts, some scrapes—nothing serious. But the real wounds weren't the kind he could treat. The way Owen sat against the rocks, his hands trembling so hard he couldn't steady them. The vacant, hollow look in Emily's eyes, as if her mind was refusing to accept what had just happened. Even Amelia, always the steady one, seemed rattled, her fingers gripping the strap of her pack too tightly, as if letting go of it might somehow make everything spiral further out of control.
"We're all okay," Benjamin finally said, his voice forced, hollow. He wasn't talking about our physical state—he was trying to convince himself that we hadn't shattered completely. But I could see the cracks forming.
Amelia took a deep breath and forced herself to stand straighter. "Alright," she said, her voice steadier than the rest of us, but only just. "Let's try to rest for now. We need to regain our strength and think about our next steps… carefully."
Her words made sense. They were logical, practical—everything we needed to focus on. But they felt fragile, like a thin layer of ice over deep, dark water.
I looked at my companions—pale faces, wide, empty eyes. They were all still reeling, trying to make sense of the chaos, trying to ground themselves in a reality that had just become something else entirely. Something unforgiving.
But I couldn't let myself feel it. The terror, the grief—it lurked just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness to drag me under. I couldn't afford that.
Ethan was gone. That was a fact. A cold, simple, undeniable truth.
And there was no time to dwell on it.
We had to keep moving. Keep surviving. That was all that mattered.