The first rays of dawn filtered through the ruptures in the ship’s carcass, casting golden shards of light across the metallic walls. Slowly, they stretched inward until they illuminated the sleeping faces of the two survivors. Adam was the first to stir, awakened by the soft glow and the coolness of the morning air. His body, surprisingly well-rested, brimmed with renewed energy.

  Without a sound, he sat up, glanced at Seyra still asleep, and quietly slipped out of the chamber. He had spent the night on the floor, leaving the bunk to her. In the relative calm of early morning, he rekindled the nearly dead embers of the fire, added a few pieces of wood, and began roasting the leftover meat from the day before. The acrid smell soon rose into the cool air, thick and persistent.

  Seyra eventually appeared, her features drawn, her hair slightly disheveled. When she saw what Adam was preparing, she squinted, a grimace of surprise and disgust crossing her face.

  “Ugh… Seriously? You’re eating that again?” she asked, clearly revolted.

  Adam, holding a steaming chunk of meat on the end of a stick, shrugged with a crooked smile.

  “Morning. Want some? It’s tender… well, I think.”

  “Uh… no thanks. I’ll pass,” she replied, turning away as a wave of nausea hit her.

  “It’s edible. Fills the stomach. Not like gourmet cuisine is on the menu on this rock.”

  Despite herself, Seyra let out a nervous chuckle.

  With full stomachs and focused minds, Adam and Seyra set off. She slung her pack over her shoulders in a swift motion, her gaze already fixed on the forest’s edge. But Adam took a slight detour. He approached a small mound of stones topped with a makeshift cross, carefully placed. Zena’s grave.

  He stood there for a moment, head slightly bowed. He knew this would likely be the last time he could pay his respects here. Closing his eyes, he rested a hand on the upper stone and murmured a few quiet words — simple, sincere farewells carried by the gentle breath of the wind. The rain, ever-present since their arrival on this world, had finally eased. Only a thin drizzle remained, suspended in the air like a delicate mist, almost soothing. The surrounding dampness no longer felt hostile — merely present, like the planet’s own breath.

  The forest they entered felt unreal — a fusion of wild elegance and visceral strangeness. Titanic trees seemed to pierce the sky, their slender trunks rising more than thirty meters high, shaping a natural vault of solemn grandeur. It was like a forgotten vegetal cathedral, erected by a vanished civilization, where filtered light through the dense canopy transformed into shifting frescoes across the ground.

  Their bark, a deep emerald green, was adorned in places with small translucent thorns, elsewhere with tiny cavities arranged in subtle, almost organic patterns like veins beneath skin. In some spots, these designs formed natural arabesques of unsettling precision. The branches, thin yet remarkably sturdy, wove a dense mesh of foliage. Spoon-shaped leaves formed such a compact vegetal roof that almost no sky could be seen. Only a few beams pierced through, falling like divine spotlights upon the soaked ground, making shadows dance in hypnotic patterns.

  Some trunks were entirely colonized by strange deep-blue moss, its undulating tendrils supple and lively, reminiscent of sea anemones moving in an invisible current. When someone passed nearby, they trembled as though sensing the presence of intruders.

  The forest floor was a world of its own: a thick layer of exotic leaves, decomposing wood, spongy moss, and mud formed a living carpet. With every step, this dense substrate released the scent of damp humus, soaked bark, and ancient vegetation. It seemed to breathe beneath their feet, yielding slightly with each stride, as if accepting their passage — though not without a murmur.

  Adam and Seyra moved slowly, as though crossing a living sanctuary, sacred ground where every sound was absorbed by the vegetation’s thickness.

  Scattered bushes with vivid green leaves and bright berries — purple, orange, almost luminescent — dotted the landscape, adding striking splashes of color within the forest’s dominant shades of deep green and misty blue. Their slender branches swayed gently beneath the drizzle, as if whispering ancient secrets of this forgotten world.

  The forest, freed from the predator that had once ruled it, seemed to be slowly catching its breath. A shy serenity emerged through the foliage, as though nature itself was savoring a fleeting moment of reprieve.

  The sounds were subtle but constant — a tapestry of life: the delicate whisper of rain on needles, the faint crack of moisture-laden branches, and in the distance, the crystalline song of unseen creatures hidden beneath the canopy. At irregular intervals, a sharper rustle betrayed an animal’s passage or the fall of a leaf carried by a nearly imperceptible gust. Everything felt suspended, balanced between reclaimed tranquility and the latent tension of an unknown world.

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  Seyra scanned their surroundings warily. The forest was different. Though the trees were now familiar, something had shifted. It confirmed that Adam had indeed eliminated the threat.

  “I’ve never come this far into this part of the forest,” Seyra admitted quietly, a trace of unease in her voice. “This used to be his territory… the predator’s domain.”

  Adam walked steadily, eyes fixed ahead.

  “I recognize the area,” he replied calmly. “We’re nearing the hill. If we turn right, we’ll reach his lair… This is where I first ran into him.”

  He paused, observing the majestic trees and the peaceful light filtering through the canopy.

  “But… what a difference. The forest feels so… alive,” he murmured, almost in awe. “From the top of the hill, we’ll have a clear view of the crash site.”

  Intrigued, Seyra nodded and gestured for him to lead. He had walked this path two days earlier — alone, under very different circumstances.

  As they climbed, the slope gradually steepened. They ascended in silence, each lost in thought. Only their breathing disturbed the surrounding calm. The silence wasn’t oppressive — it was respectful, instinctive. As if the forest itself demanded they climb this sacred place in quiet reverence.

  Reaching the summit felt like deliverance for Seyra. Breathless, she leaned against a gnarled tree trunk, sweat beading on her forehead. Her legs trembled from exertion as she removed her pack and drank greedily from her flask before sitting on a moss-covered rock.

  The climb had been grueling — even for her, known for her endurance. And yet Adam stood there, upright and composed. No sweat, no strain, no change in his steady breathing. He gazed toward the horizon as though the ascent had been nothing more than a casual stroll.

  Seyra studied him, unsettled. Physically, he did not appear particularly athletic, and yet… How? After everything — the crash, the forest, the creature — how could he stand there so serene? So intact?

  Before them, the panorama opened like a monumental fresco. The forest stretched endlessly, a sea of emerald waves. From its perfection emerged two massive scars carved by the ship’s impact.

  Behind them lay the wreck they had left. Ahead… Seyra finally saw it. The second half of the ship. Perched precariously at the edge of a cliff, its torn-open nose hung suspended over the void, frozen in its unfinished fall.

  A wave of shock coursed through her. She covered her mouth, horrified.

  “My God…” she whispered, voice breaking.

  “Nothing but forest…” Adam murmured.

  “Yes. There’s nothing here. It’s a raw world… primitive.”

  Adam narrowed his eyes.

  “And yet… it wasn’t always.”

  She looked at him sharply.

  “You saw ruins?”

  “Not exactly. Just an obelisk… strange, solitary. Maybe an ancient place of worship. But entire ruins?”

  She nodded.

  “Yes. Near where my ship landed. The remains of an imposing structure.”

  Interest flickered in Adam’s eyes.

  “Fascinating… I’ll have to see that.”

  But he quickly refocused.

  “One thing at a time. We have something else to deal with.”

  They continued walking for hours until the twisted silhouettes of the wreck emerged through the vegetation like the remains of a fallen titan.

  They searched methodically for any sign of Kiran. Nothing. Only silence and rusted metal.

  As daylight faded, Seyra entered what remained of the bridge. The command support chair still hung over the void, attached to a partially torn console. The empty harness straps swayed in the cold breeze.

  A wave of nausea struck her. She staggered out, gripping the warped hull, fighting off a chilling vision of herself strapped to that suspended seat above nothingness.

  “Seyra… Night’s falling.”

  Adam’s voice pulled her back.

  “You’re right. We need shelter. Creatures roam in the dark.”

  “We can’t make it back over the hill in time,” Adam said.

  She pointed west.

  “That rocky ridge. There should be caves — maybe old lava tubes.”

  They hurried.

  Soon, a faint orange glow pierced the darkness.

  “Adam! Look!”

  “A fire… Maybe it’s Kiran!”

  Adam sprinted forward despite Seyra’s warning.

  Minutes later, they reached a cave. The flickering light came from within.

  Inside, the air smelled of smoke. Shadows danced along damp stone walls. Scraping sounds echoed ahead.

  Suddenly, Adam froze.

  A silhouette stretched across the wall — humanoid, long-eared.

  He raised his iron bar.

  The figure turned.

  Silence.

  Then recognition.

  Adam lowered his weapon, eyes wide with relief.

  “Kiran… Kiran! It’s you!”

  The Neurorian, thinner and exhausted, lifted his head. Joy and disbelief lit his eyes. He staggered forward and embraced Adam tightly.

  “Damn it, Adam… you’re alive! I thought… I really thought I’d lost you!”

  “Me too… I thought you hadn’t made it. But deep down, I knew you were alive.”

  “I almost wasn’t,” Kiran replied with a weary half-smile.

  He paused.

  “It’s a long story… trust me.”

  Tell me what you felt ??