Chapter One: The Island that wasn't.
The sky tore open without warning.
Leo Ray gripped the edge of his seat as the dropship bucked violently, the hull groaning under pressure. Red lights flashed across the cockpit, accompanied by the shrill wail of multiple alarms. Smoke coiled from a ruptured panel near his feet.
Beside him, Aria Kade barked out stabilizer coordinates. Her sharp features were set in determined focus, strands of dark hair plastered to her brow with sweat. Her uniform, standard-issue expeditionary gear, was unzipped at the collar, revealing a thermal vest stained with ash. "Port thruster's dead. Rerouting emergency power!"
At the front, Theo Marik clung to the controls like a man trying to steer a falling building. His goggles had slipped askew, his ginger curls stuck out wildly from under his headset. He wasn't trained for piloting, but he was the only one crazy enough to try. "Okay—okay—I think I can—wait, nope! We're going in hot!"
"We're not supposed to be here!" Aria snapped.
"We're not supposed to be crashing either!" Theo shouted back.
"Shut up and brace!" Leo growled.
The dropship hit the dunes with a stomach-churning jolt. Sand exploded upward as the ship dug into the desert like a thrown spear. Metal screamed. A wing tore off with a thunderous rip. Then came silence.
Leo didn't remember the exact moment he blacked out. Just the weightless instant of impact, then nothing.
When he came to, the air was dry and searing. Smoke stung his eyes. A trickle of blood ran down his temple. He groaned and forced himself upright.
The world outside the cracked viewport was a vast, shimmering expanse of sand. Pale and endless. Twin suns beat down from a washed-out sky.
He crawled from the wreckage, boots sinking into fine, bone-colored grains. His uniform—light-grey exploration fatigues with a chest-mounted life monitor—was torn at the sleeve. His utility belt clinked with scattered tools and ration packets.
Behind him, Aria emerged coughing from a broken hatch, a scanner clutched in one hand. She had burns along her left arm, hastily wrapped in gauze. "Systems are toast. Communications too."
Theo followed, brushing sand off his notebook—the one thing he never let go of. "Okay... definitely not Earth. Unless Earth grew a second sun and forgot to mention it."
They stood in silence, the crash site behind them a twisted skeleton of metal and sparks. Around them, dunes rolled endlessly in every direction. A few gnarled palm-like trees leaned into the wind, and far on the horizon, jagged black shapes—like ruined towers—rose from the sand.
Leo turned in place, shielding his eyes. "No rescue beacons. No coordinates."
Aria confirmed it with a look at her scanner. "It's blank. Nothing. Wherever we are, it's not mapped."
"Wonderful," Theo muttered. "We're lost in space with sand in our pants."
Leo clenched his jaw. "We need shelter. And water."
They salvaged what they could from the dropship—emergency flares, survival packs, a solar stove, a field knife. Aria dragged out a half-melted energy cell and grumbled about converting it into a filter. Theo found a dented water collector and a cracked thermal blanket.
By sunset, they had a crude camp under a bent wing panel. The heat didn't fade, just turned suffocating and still. The sand beneath them pulsed with faint warmth, as though the ground had a heartbeat.
For two days, they survived on ration bars and half-liter sips. Leo hunted for signs of life, finding only strange lizards and spiny plants that recoiled when touched. Aria spent hours decoding corrupted flight logs, while Theo scribbled in his journal and nervously tracked the horizon.
On the third evening, the sky shifted to violet. Stars flickered into view, wrong and unfamiliar.
Then Theo froze mid-step.
"Did you hear that?"
They turned—and saw it.
A massive creature slithered over a nearby dune. Bigger than a cow, armored like a crab, its chitin shimmered with violet hues under the dying light. It moved on six legs—silent and smooth. No eyes. Just antennae that twitched with purpose. And a mouth that didn't open so much as… unfold.
"Back to the pod. Now," Leo snapped.
They ran, breath ragged. The thing followed—faster than it had any right to be.
Inside the dropship husk, Leo slammed the hatch and grabbed the emergency flare launcher.
"One shot," he muttered.
"Are you sure that'll stop it?" Aria asked.
"Nope. But I'm not letting it get in."
The pod shuddered as the creature rammed it. Outside, claws scraped against the hull. Theo backed up, pale. "It was watching us. Like it already knew."
Leo cracked the hatch just wide enough and fired.
The flare exploded against the creature's chest. It emitted no sound—but the air vibrated with a deep, bone-rattling hum. The thing recoiled, smoking, and then… retreated into the dunes.
It didn't return that night.
Two more days passed. They repaired a signal relay with scavenged parts, but it pulsed into the void unanswered.
Finally, Aria sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "Guys... I found something."
Leo leaned in. "What is it?"
"That storm in orbit—it wasn't natural. The data shows gravitational lensing… like a wormhole event."
Theo blinked. "You're saying we were sucked into a portal?"
"I'm saying…" Aria hesitated. "This planet isn't on any star chart. It might not be in our universe. Or time."
A long silence followed.
Leo stood and stepped outside. The wind whispered across the sand, curling into strange spirals. Something skittered in the distance.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Then we survive," he said. "And we stay ready. Because that thing… that was just the beginning."