Huddled within an alcove along the mountainside, the cool, damp air wrapped around us, a welcome relief from the relentless desert heat. The dim light of the twin suns filtered in through the narrow entrance, casting long shadows that danced along the stone walls. The occasional drip of water echoed softly in the cavern, a quiet contrast to the heavy silence that hung between us.
That night, we stood together, solemn and still, as we honored Ethan. His name was carefully carved into a smooth stone, placed gently against the cavern wall—a simple, makeshift memorial in a world that had already proven to be brutal and unforgiving. No words were spoken at first; there was nothing to say that could change what had happened. We simply let the silence linger, heavy with grief, regret, and the sobering reality of our situation.
Amelia finally broke the silence, her voice low but firm. "Ethan's death... it reminds us how quickly everything can change. That every decision we make out here matters. We don't have the luxury of second chances. And we sure as hell don't have the luxury of falling apart."
The others nodded, their faces etched with exhaustion and loss. They were shaken, but determined. This world was unrelenting, but we had to be stronger.
Yet, as I stood among them, I couldn't seem to feel the weight of it the same way they did. When my mind wandered back to Ethan's death, I couldn't summon the sadness they carried. Instead, I found myself fixated on the question that had been gnawing at me since we first arrived here—what happens to the last one standing? Whether it was me or someone else, how long would we last? Days? Weeks? Years? Ethan's words haunted me still—humanity had no way to reach us.
Amelia's voice pulled me back from my spiraling thoughts. She straightened, her tone sharpening as she shifted focus. "We all have jobs to do. No excuses."
She turned to Henry first. "Keep the equipment running. I don't care how bad it gets—find a way."
"Owen, make sure our gear stays in working order. If something breaks, we can't afford to toss it aside. Fix it."
She met Emily's uncertain gaze. "Do what you can with the communicators. Even if it feels like a lost cause, try. We need to know if there's even the slightest chance of contact."
Her eyes landed on Ella next. "See what you can find in the terrain—water, resources, anything that gives us an edge."
With a nod toward Benjamin, she added, "Dr. Benjamin, you keep us healthy. If anyone so much as coughs the wrong way, I want to know about it."
Finally, she turned to me. "Atlas, first watch. Stay sharp."
I nodded. No more words were needed. I knew my job.
As the others settled in for the night, I took my position near the entrance of the alcove, my back pressed against the cool stone. The alien landscape stretched before me, bathed in the eerie light of the twin suns as they dipped lower in the sky. Jagged rocks cast elongated shadows across the sand, and the temperature steadily dropped, the heat of the day replaced by a crisp chill.
A strange stillness clung to the air—too quiet. No distant echoes, no shifting wind patterns beyond the occasional gust stirring the sand. It set my nerves on edge, but I forced myself to focus, keeping my breathing steady as my eyes swept across the horizon. Nothing moved. Nothing seemed out of place.
After a while, Owen approached, his exhaustion evident in the way he rubbed his face. I met his tired gaze and gave him a small nod. "Wake me if anything feels off," I muttered before stepping past him and retreating into the alcove.
I eased down onto the stone, never allowing myself to fully relax, resting in that space between sleep and wakefulness—the kind where your body remains aware, ready to snap to attention at the first sign of danger.
The night passed without incident. Just the steady drip of water echoing in the cave and the occasional gust of wind brushing against the rock. Ethan's death lingered in my mind for a fleeting second, but I shoved the thought away. I couldn't afford to dwell. Not here. Not now.
Eventually, the soft light of the rising suns seeped into the alcove, pushing back the shadows. The others stirred, groggy but alive. As I sat up, Benjamin made his way over to take the next watch, nodding silently as I stepped aside.
The cave remained quiet, save for the occasional shuffle as the others stretched and prepared for the day. I found a smooth, flat rock near the back of the alcove and sat down, pulling my knife free. The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone was a familiar, steadying sensation. I focused on each motion, keeping my hands busy, pushing back the weight of everything pressing down on us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Amelia watching me, her expression unreadable. She lingered for a second before stepping forward, her voice cutting through the morning silence.
"We need to assess our situation," she began, her tone measured, composed. "Our resources are limited, and we're far from the comfort of our ship. We also can't ignore the possibility that the missing colony might have ended up in a similar situation."
I slid my blade along the stone one last time before sheathing it and standing, ready for whatever came next.
Benjamin's brows furrowed, his expression heavy with thought. "But if they've faced the same challenges as us, their chances of survival could be slim."
Ella, her mind already working through possibilities, spoke up. "Before we make any decisions, we need to understand this place better. We should get a clearer picture of our surroundings."
I met her gaze. "How do you suggest we do that?"
She turned her attention to the towering mountains ahead. "We climb. From a higher vantage point, we might spot something useful. Maybe signs of life. Maybe signs of the colony."
We exchanged glances, weighing the risk. It was a logical move, and the possibility of finding something—anything—was too important to ignore.
Amelia didn't hesitate. "Let's do it. Pack up. We're heading higher."
As we prepped for the climb, a mix of anticipation and unease hung in the air. The mountain loomed before us, its jagged cliffs casting long, ominous shadows under the dual suns. It had been a long time since I'd done any real rock climbing, but as I double-checked our gear, the familiar rush of adrenaline returned.
I let out a low whistle, scanning the path ahead. From what I could tell, we had a relatively manageable hike for now, though it was only a matter of time before we'd have to scale some steep sections.
"Hey, Henry, ever done any rock climbing before?" I asked, curious about his experience.
He shook his head, already breathing heavily from the incline we'd been tackling. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his jaw tight with determination. "Not since I was a kid," he admitted, his voice slightly strained.
I adjusted my pace to match his, making sure he didn't fall too far behind as we approached the first real challenge—a steep rock face dotted with enough natural ledges to make the climb possible. It wasn't the worst climb I'd seen, but exhaustion would make it feel twice as difficult.
"It's pretty steep," I observed, eyeing the rugged terrain ahead. "But there are a lot of spots to rest if we pace ourselves. Think we can handle it?" I turned to Amelia, looking for her judgment.
She studied the path for a few seconds before nodding. "We'll have to. I don't see a better way up."
"Can we take a break before we start climbing?" Henry asked between heavy breaths, his exhaustion clear.
I glanced around, gauging the state of the group. Everyone looked winded, and pushing too hard now could make the climb more dangerous. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," I agreed.
"Thank god," Ella muttered, finding a stable rock to lean against as she took a sip from her water supply.
Owen handed out strips of dried bug meat, the same ones we'd prepared earlier. I chewed on mine slowly, realizing just how hungry I was. It was a stark reminder of how much energy this trek was draining from us. As I swallowed, I glanced back down the path we'd already traveled, surprised by how much ground we had covered.
Midway through explaining the best handholds to Henry, Amelia pushed herself to her feet, signaling the end of our rest. "Alright, break's over. Time to get moving. We need to cover as much ground as we can before nightfall."
"Oh, come on, just a little longer," Henry groaned, his nerves peeking through his usual humor.
"We can't afford to waste time," Amelia said, her voice firm but encouraging. "It'll feel easier once we get moving. Let's keep pushing—one step at a time."
With a reluctant sigh, Henry got to his feet, stretching his arms before giving me a nod. "Alright, let's do this," he muttered, bracing himself for the climb ahead.
"Remember, always test your handholds before putting your full weight on them," I reminded him, scanning the rocky surface. "The last thing we need is someone falling because a rock decided to give out."
Benjamin, to everyone's surprise, took to climbing like a natural, moving with an effortless fluidity that put the rest of us to shame. Meanwhile, my attention drifted to Ella and Henry, who were struggling to keep steady. Ella's hands trembled slightly as she reached for her next hold, and Henry's breathing was shallow and erratic.
"Try to stay calm," I called out, hoping to ground them. "Overthinking is only going to make it worse. Deep breaths."
"Yeah, easy for you to say," Henry shot back, his nervous edge unmistakable.
I bit back a smile. "Just focus on your footing. If you can rest some of your weight on your legs, your arms won't tire out so fast."
The sky deepened into shades of orange and red, the twin suns dipping lower as they cast eerie shadows across the desert we had fought so hard to escape. The towering cliffs stretched endlessly above us, jagged and unwelcoming. As I climbed, my movements were clumsy at first—hesitant, unfamiliar. It had been too long since I had done anything like this, and my body struggled to recall the motions.
But with each stretch, each grasp of stone, the muscle memory slowly returned. My hands began to find the holds more naturally, my footing steadied as my instincts resurfaced. The rhythm of the climb became familiar again, my body gradually remembering how to move—how to trust the rock beneath my fingers. What had first felt stiff and awkward soon became smoother, more controlled.
For most of the group, however, this was a different kind of struggle. Every movement was a battle against hesitation and fatigue, the unfamiliarity of climbing making their ascent even more difficult. I could hear the occasional grunt of frustration, the sharp intake of breath as someone nearly lost their grip.
Step by step, we ascended, hands and feet searching for every crack, every protrusion that could bear our weight. I moved with ease, relying on muscle memory even as fatigue gnawed at the edges of my strength. Amelia climbed beside me, her determination unwavering despite her occasional misstep. Behind her, Owen was already drenched in sweat, his nerves apparent in the way he hesitated before each movement.
"Take it slow," I advised, sparing him a glance. "Find your balance first. Breathe."
But as the climb grew steeper, fear began to take hold. Ella's breathing turned shallow, panic creeping into her wide eyes.
"I can't do this," she whispered, barely audible over the wind that whipped against the rock face.
"You can," I said firmly. "Just don't look down. Focus on the next step."
Henry wasn't faring much better. His fingers fumbled for a grip, his face contorted with concentration. Then, his foot slipped.
A strangled cry tore from his throat as his hands lost hold, his body plummeting.
Adrenaline kicked in. I lunged, my arm snapping out just in time to seize his wrist before he dropped any farther. My muscles burned as I clung to the rock face, breathing hard as I stabilized myself before pulling him up.
"Got you," I gritted out, catching my breath before hoisting him back up.
Henry's face was ghostly pale, his breaths coming in rapid bursts. He looked at me with wide, shaken eyes. "I… I thought I was done for."
I tightened my grip on his wrist before guiding him to a stable ledge. "Not on my watch," I said, forcing a reassuring tone. "Just breathe. You're alright."
Henry gulped down air, nodding, but the fear in his eyes hadn't faded. And as I looked up toward the peak of the climb still looming above us, I knew this wasn't going to get any easier.
Amelia's voice, though urgent, held a thread of concern as she called down from above. "I hate to rush you, Henry, but we can't afford to stop now. Are you okay?"
Henry, still visibly shaken, gave a shaky nod. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. Thanks, Atlas. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She studied him for a second, making sure he wasn't just saying that to move on. "Are you sure? That was a close one." Her voice softened slightly, concern flickering behind her usual composed tone.
Henry exhaled, still rattled, but he managed a small, shaky grin. "Yeah. Still here. Let's just… keep going."
Satisfied but still keeping an eye on him, Amelia nodded. "Alright, but take it slow. We're almost there."
I gave Henry a reassuring nodd. "We're in this together. One step at a time."
Positioning myself below him, I acted as a safety net, keeping an extra watchful eye as we continued the climb. Every movement was slow and deliberate, exhaustion creeping into our muscles with each passing second. The view behind us grew, the endless desert stretching beyond sight, but none of us had the luxury of admiring it.
When we finally reached the top, Henry collapsed onto the rocky ground, his breath coming in heavy gasps before he burst into nervous laughter. "I thought I was going to die," he admitted, holding up his trembling hands. "That was terrifying… and kinda fun. Although I don't think I'll be trying it again anytime soon."
Amelia, perched on a nearby rock, took a sip from her canteen before speaking. "I'm glad we all made it," she said, her voice carrying an unspoken relief. "But don't get too comfortable—we've got a long way to go. You've got twenty minutes, then we move again."
Henry groaned, rolling onto his side with a dramatic sigh. "Twenty minutes? You are ruthless."
"You'll thank me when we're not hiking in the middle of the night," she quipped, though there was a hint of amusement in her tone.
With that, he shut his eyes, his body still trembling slightly from the adrenaline, and the rest of us settled into our brief reprieve. The rocky ledge provided little comfort, but it didn't matter. The exhaustion in our bones made even the harsh stone beneath us feel like a bed.
For a while, there was only the sound of steady breathing, the occasional shifting of gear, and the distant whistle of the wind cutting through the mountains. The desert stretched behind us, endless and suffocating, but up here, the air was cooler, thinner. It carried the faint scent of something different—something unfamiliar.
Then, as our twenty minutes dwindled, Amelia stirred first, stretching her arms with a sigh. "Alright, time's up," she said, voice laced with fatigue but firm. "Let's move."
Groans of protest echoed from Henry and Owen, but no one argued. One by one, we pushed ourselves to our feet, brushing off the dust and preparing for the final stretch.
The climb resumed, slower this time, exhaustion creeping into our limbs with each step. My body had adjusted to the rhythm now, my movements feeling more natural as muscle memory took over. The peak was close—I could feel it. Each step brought a stronger gust of wind, carrying a scent that was unmistakably different from the barren wasteland below.
Then, a sudden roar split the air.
We froze. Heartbeats thundered in our ears as our hands shot to our weapons, instincts kicking in like a reflex. The sound had come from beyond the ridge—deep, guttural, and impossibly loud. The kind that belonged to something big.
The silence that followed was thick, stretching unbearably long. The wind howled, but nothing else stirred. No movement. No second roar.
Amelia signaled for us to proceed cautiously, her fingers moving in sharp, precise motions. Stay low. Stay alert.
Weapons still in hand, we pressed on, the ridge cresting just a few feet ahead. My breath caught as I pulled myself over the final ledge, and for the first time in days, something other than fear gripped me.
A couple hundred feet below, sprawling out in every direction, was a vast forest—a sea of lush green, stretching endlessly into the horizon. Trees taller than any I had ever seen towered into the sky, their thick canopies rustling under the wind. The air itself was different, rich with the scent of damp earth and something vaguely sweet.
I exhaled slowly, taking it all in. The sight was almost intoxicating after days of nothing but heat and sand.
"It's incredible," Ella whispered, her voice barely above a breath, eyes wide with wonder.
I found myself nodding, feeling something stir within me—hope. This wasn't just another stretch of emptiness. This was life.
But as I inhaled the cool air, my fingers brushing against the rough stone beneath me, I reminded myself not to get too comfortable. Life meant danger.
Amelia's voice cut through the quiet. "We need to find a secure place to set up camp—somewhere that provides cover."
Hesitantly, we began our descent. The forest loomed closer with every step, revealing strange flora along the way. I ran a hand over the soft fronds of an unfamiliar plant, watching as a green residue stained my fingers. The scent of wet earth clung to it, fresh and cool, a stark contrast to the dry, scorching winds we had grown used to.
I closed my eyes briefly, taking it in before tossing the plant back to the ground.
"What do you think, Amelia?" I asked, scanning the dense undergrowth. "Should we set up camp here?"
She hesitated, eyes sweeping the treeline, weighing our options. "Not yet. I want to get a better grasp of what's out here before we commit to anything. I don't want any surprises."
A reasonable answer. I nodded.
That was when Henry misjudged his footing and suddenly slid down the hill, flailing as he barely caught himself against a thick root.
"Whoa—okay, maybe I went a little too fast," Henry huffed, shaking out his hands before flashing a nervous grin. "So… what's the plan?"
"We'll scout the area first," Amelia said, keeping her gaze forward. "Once we know it's safe, we'll set up camp."
"When do we start?" Ella asked eagerly, already scribbling in her journal, half-drawing some strange plant she'd picked up earlier.
"As soon as possible," Benjamin replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings, his brows furrowed with concern. "The sooner we get a feel for this place, the better."
The forest buzzed with life—an orchestra of unfamiliar sounds filling the air. Strange calls echoed from unseen creatures, leaves rustled with movement, and a soft hum of insects created an undercurrent of energy. It was nothing like the barren desert we had left behind. Every step revealed something new.
Armored, frog-like creatures glided effortlessly from steam vents, using the rising heat to propel themselves into the dense underbrush. Bioluminescent insects hovered in the air like drifting embers, their glow painting soft patterns beneath the canopy.
Ella and Emily were in their element. Ella's journal filled with frantic sketches and scribbles, her excitement radiating with every discovery. Meanwhile, Emily rattled off theories, her analytical mind already piecing together the logic of this alien ecosystem.
"Look at the gliding frog," Emily said, her voice tinged with fascination. "It's using the steam vents to gain lift—probably evolved to rely on thermal currents for travel."
Ella grinned as she sketched the creature mid-flight, smudges of ink staining her fingertips. "It's amazing how life adapts, even in places like this."
I had to admit, it was mesmerizing. One of the creatures launched itself from a vent, its wing-like skin stretching wide, carrying it effortlessly across the clearing. It felt surreal—like watching a world come alive in ways I'd never imagined.
Despite the beauty of the place, I stayed on edge. Distant roars rumbled through the trees, a reminder that we weren't alone. Amelia led with cautious precision, her instincts razor-sharp.
"We should avoid getting too close to the steam vents," Benjamin warned, his tone serious. "The ground might be unstable. The last thing we need is for someone to fall into boiling water."
Hours passed as we pushed deeper into the forest, the dense foliage creeping in like grasping fingers, swallowing the light bit by bit. The air grew thick, heavy with the damp scent of earth and decay. As the twin suns dipped toward the horizon, their dying light bled through the canopy, casting jagged, shifting shadows that slithered across the forest floor. Every rustle, every distant call felt amplified, unnatural—like the trees themselves were whispering secrets just beyond our reach.
"We need to set up camp," Amelia finally said, stopping at the base of an enormous tree. Its thick, sturdy limbs stretched high into the canopy, forming a natural shelter above. The dense foliage would hide us from whatever roamed below, giving us a better vantage point to watch for danger.
"Tree camp? I like it," Henry muttered, already testing one of the low-hanging branches.
One by one, we climbed into the massive tree, securing ourselves between two enormous branches. From here, the forest stretched out below like a sea of shifting darkness, broken only by the faint, ghostly glow of bioluminescent creatures flickering through the underbrush. Despite everything, the sight was mesmerizing.
As night fell, Ella sat cross-legged, her journal open on her lap. By the soft light of the moon, she meticulously sketched the day's discoveries. "These frogs, the glowing bugs, the way the vents work—it's like the whole ecosystem is designed to thrive off the volcanic activity," she mused, her voice filled with wonder.
The rest of us settled into a quiet routine, the sounds of the night surrounding us. The rustling of leaves, the calls of unknown creatures, and the distant roars echoing through the trees. Yet, here in the safety of the tree, I felt a small sense of security.
I took my turn on watch, leaning against the trunk as I stared out into the night. The weight of the day sat heavily on my shoulders, but the forest, for all its dangers, was beautiful in its own strange way. The sound of the wind through the trees was almost calming, and for the first time in what felt like days, I allowed myself to breathe.
Sitting against the rough bark of the tree, I let the weight of the day settle on my shoulders. The responsibility of keeping watch gave me something to focus on, something to hold onto in the quiet darkness. The others slept nearby, their soft breathing blending with the night's symphony. I, however, couldn't shake the tension that gnawed at the edges of my mind.
My fingers instinctively reached for my knife, its worn grip familiar against my palm. In the dim light, the polished metal gleamed, catching the moon's glow. My thoughts drifted back—back to the desert, back to the chaos, back to the moment Ethan was swallowed whole.
The serpent's gaping maw. The snap of its jaws. The way the ground trembled beneath its weight.
I saw it all over again.
Could I have stopped it? Could I have done something—anything—differently?
I stared down at the blade, running my thumb along its edge. It was sharp, but not nearly sharp enough. The serpent's scales—thick, impenetrable. My knife would barely scratch its surface. I pictured myself standing before that massive creature again, imagining the knife carving through its hide, but the vision faltered. It wouldn't work. Not like this.
The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous the idea seemed. What was I even thinking? A knife against a beast like that? My grip tightened on the hilt. I needed something stronger.
I held the blade against a rock, pressing just enough to feel the edge catch before dragging it slowly across. The scraping sound echoed faintly in the quiet night. I needed to keep my hands busy, something to occupy my thoughts that weren't spiraling into the "what ifs" of the past. Sharpening the blade gave me something tangible to focus on—each pass against the rock creating a subtle edge, as if I could sharpen my own thoughts, my own resolve in the process.
We barely survived that desert. What about the next threat?
I glanced toward the others, catching glimpses of them as they lay nestled between the branches of the massive tree. Amelia, usually composed, lay sprawled out, exhaustion finally catching up to her. Ella, curled up with her journal still in her hand, as if she had been writing until the moment sleep claimed her. Benjamin, his head resting on his pack, his breathing slow and steady. They trusted me to keep watch, to keep them safe. That trust felt heavy. But it was something to hold on to, a purpose in the midst of all this chaos.
I exhaled, pressing the blade of my knife against the sharpening stone. The soft scraping sound was a quiet rhythm against the backdrop of the night. The thick canopy above swayed gently, the rustling leaves blending seamlessly with the hum of unseen life in the darkness below. Moonlight filtered through gaps in the branches, casting pale streaks of silver across the massive trunk where we had made our camp. Below, the forest stretched into an endless sea of shadow, only broken by the occasional flicker of bioluminescent creatures drifting between the trees.
The forest was different from the desert—more alive, more unpredictable. I should have felt safer up here, with the solid wood beneath me and the height keeping us out of reach. But the weight of the unknown pressed against my chest, gnawing at my thoughts. The dangers of this place weren't always obvious, and that made them worse.
Another slow stroke of the blade against the rock.
Then, a sound. Faint but distinct.
Scratching.
My body tensed, my hand freezing mid-motion. I tilted my head slightly, straining my ears against the layered symphony of the forest. For a second, I thought I had imagined it—just the creaking of the branches swaying in the wind.
But then, it came again. Closer.
A slow, deliberate clawing against bark.
I tightened my grip on my knife and carefully peered over the edge of the branch.
At first, they were just vague, shifting figures against the dark. But as my eyes adjusted, I caught glimpses of them slipping between the trees—low to the ground, sleek, moving with an unsettling, practiced coordination. Their heads bobbed as they sniffed at the air, their tails flicking behind them as they prowled the forest floor.
I held my breath, barely daring to move.
They circled the base of the tree, their claws raking lightly at the bark, testing it. One lifted its head, its glowing eyes scanning the canopy before disappearing back into the brush.
For a few agonizing moments, they lingered. Pacing. Sniffing.
Then, just as quickly as they had come, they melted back into the undergrowth, vanishing between the tangled ferns and trees.
I exhaled slowly, my pulse still racing.
They were hunting.
I scanned the darkness for any lingering movement, but the forest had swallowed them whole. Only the faint rustling of leaves remained, masking whatever else lurked in the unseen depths below. The creatures were gone—for now.
Exhaling slowly, I leaned back against the tree trunk, my grip still tight around my knife. Sleep wouldn't come easy after that. My mind was still wired, thoughts running in circles, but there was no point in dwelling on it. I had my watch. I had a job to do.
The rhythmic hum of the forest carried on, indifferent to our presence. The leaves above rustled in the light breeze, casting shifting patterns of moonlight through the branches. I found myself watching the way the light flickered against the bark, tracing the uneven grooves with my fingers, trying to let the steady sounds of the night ground me.
A faint creak of movement beside me.
I hadn't even noticed Henry until he was right there, settling beside me with practiced quiet. His presence barely disturbed the peace of the night, but the slight shift in the air was enough to pull me from my thoughts. He glanced down at the knife in my hand, then at the worn rock beside me.
"Your turn," I said simply, slipping the blade back into its sheath as I pushed myself up from my spot.
Henry gave a short nod, his face unreadable in the dim light. He rolled his shoulders, stretching out the stiffness of the climb before settling in where I had been sitting. "Get some rest, Atlas. You've earned it."
I hesitated for half a second, my body still keyed up, but exhaustion was clawing at the edges of my awareness. With one last look at the forest below, I handed the watch over to him, stepping back toward the others, toward whatever sleep the night would allow.