Huddled within an alcove along the mountainside, I eased down the side of the opening, letting the cool, damp air wrap around me like a blanket. It seeped into my skin, easing the relentless burn the day's heat had left behind. Somewhere deeper in the cavern, water dripped at uneven intervals, each drop echoing like a reminder that time was still moving, even if it felt like we weren't.
That night, we gathered to honor Ethan's memory. His name, carved carefully into a smooth stone, now rested against the cavern wall. It wasn't much. Just a rock with a name. A placeholder for a grave we couldn't give him…
No one spoke at first. What could we possibly say? Words wouldn't pull him back, and they wouldn't stop the next death from coming. The quiet stretched, heavy and suffocating, but no one dared to cut through it.
I stood there, staring at the stone, waiting for… something. Sadness. Anger. Anything. But nothing came. Not like it did for the others, their heads bowed, shoulders drawn tight. I couldn't tell if what they carried was grief or simple hopelessness, but whatever it was, it felt heavy. Mine, though… I don't know. No matter how I tried, I couldn't bring myself to grieve for him.
Instead, my thoughts kept circling the same pit I'd been falling into since we got here: What happens to the last of us? When it comes down to one person. Whether that's me or someone else… what's left? Do they just sit and wait? Keep going until they can't? Is there even a point?
I caught myself calculating in my head. Days? Weeks? Maybe years if we're lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you see it. The thought made my stomach twist. I didn't know which answer I wanted.
"…so let's prepare what we can." Amelia's voice cut clean through the spiral, the way a sudden light breaks a dream. I realized I'd missed half of what she'd been saying. She was standing straighter now, jaw set, her tone sharp with purpose.
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 a bag 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. I know there's water, so collect it, and if you find anything else, let me know."
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, you're on first watch."
I nodded.
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 as the temperature steadily dropped, the heat of the day was replaced by a crisp chill as the steady mist began to flow down from the mountainside and out into the expanse of the desert.
It was a relief to know that this was where the mist came from, but a strange stillness clung to the air, almost too quiet. No distant echoes, no shifting wind. It set my nerves on edge. After the creature eventually gave up and drifted back into the sands, the silence that followed felt wrong in every way, like there should be something in the shadows but never showed itself.
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, but never truly getting sleep.
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.
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. I stepped aside.
The cave stayed quiet, save for the occasional shuffle as the others stretched and readied themselves for the day. I found a smooth, flat rock near the back of the alcove and sat down, pulling my knife free. I grimaced at the state of the blade—its edge pitted with chips and dents from all the improvised uses we'd put it through. This is going to take a while to fix.
With a sigh, I set to work. The steady, rasping scrape of metal against stone filled the silence, each pass of the blade dragging my thoughts along with it.
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. "Our resources are limited, and 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 are 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, or the colony."
I liked the idea; getting a better vantage point would be the most helpful thing to do at the moment. However, my word alone wouldn't be enough to get everyone to agree. But my concerns were for nothing.
Amelia didn't hesitate. "Let's do it."
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, sewing doubt into all of us. Sighing, I let out a long breath… It's been too long since I've done any real rock climbing. Come on, muscle memory, I'll be relying on you…
Letting out a low whistle, I scanned 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 been 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.
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 bottle.
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'd 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 voice tight with unease.
"We can't afford to waste time," Amelia said, her voice firm but encouraging. "It'll feel easier once we get moving."
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 almost 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.
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.
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 and trust the rock beneath my fingers. What had first felt stiff and awkward soon became smoother and 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, and then breathe."
But as the climb grew steeper, fear began to seep in. Ella's breathing turned shallow, panic edging into her wide eyes.
"I can't do this," she whispered, her voice barely cutting through the wind whipping against the rock face.
"You can," I said firmly. "Don't look down. Just focus on the next step."
Henry wasn't doing much better. His fingers scrabbled for a grip, his jaw clenched in concentration. Then his boot slipped.
A startled cry broke from his throat as his weight lurched away from the rock.
"Ah—!" I reached out on instinct, fingers closing around his wrist. The sudden pull yanked me forward, my boots grinding for purchase. The weight tore at my shoulder, dragging me off balance—
And then my own foothold gave.
For a split second, both of us were falling. My stomach lurched as we dropped a foot or two, but then my free hand grasped around a narrow ledge by sheer luck. My fingers bit into the stone, pain shooting up my arm. Henry's weight dragged hard against me, every muscle screaming as I clung there, barely hanging on.
"Hold—hold still," I hissed through clenched teeth.
The rock dug into my palm as I hauled him just high enough for his boot to catch the ledge beside me. The strain ebbed the moment he took some of his own weight, and I sucked in a breath, chest burning.
"Got you," I muttered, though it felt more like the rock had gotten both of us.
Henry's face was pale, breath coming fast. "I… thought that was it."
"Yeah. Me too," I admitted, forcing a thin smile. "Let's… not do that again."
We inched toward a stable patch, the wind still clawing at us. Amelia's voice drifted down from above, urgent but with a thread of concern. "You two good down there?"
Henry gave a jerky nod. "Yeah… thanks to Atlas."
She studied him a moment longer, suspicion in her tone. "Sure about that? Looked close."
Henry let out a shaky laugh that wasn't fooling anyone. "Yeah. Let's just keep going."
Amelia nodded, still wary. "Alright. Slow and steady—we're almost there."
I fell in behind Henry, acting as his shadow on the climb. My arms still trembled from the strain, but I kept close enough to grab him again if needed. The desert sprawled endlessly behind us, but none of us dared look back. Not yet.
When we finally reached the top, Henry collapsed onto the rocky ground, his breath coming in heavy gasps before breaking into a nervous laugh. "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 doing that anytime soon."
I rolled my shoulder, a sharp ache flaring where his weight had yanked me earlier. Every pulse of pain reminded me just how close I'd come to losing my grip—not just on him, but on the ledge too. It would fade, I told myself. Already, it was dulling from a burning throb to something I could grit my teeth through. Still, I kept moving it in small circles, making sure it worked.
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're ruthless."
"You'll thank me when we're not hiking in the middle of the night," she quipped, though a hint of amusement softened the words.
Henry shut his eyes, still trembling slightly from the adrenaline, and the rest of us settled into our brief reprieve. I leaned back against the uneven stone, letting the cool mountain air settle over me. The rocky ledge wasn't much of a bed, but exhaustion made it feel almost comfortable. My shoulder still throbbed with every slight shift, but the pain faded with every moment.
For a while, the only sounds were steady breathing, the quiet shifting of gear, and the distant whistle of the wind threading through the mountains. The desert stretched behind us, endless and suffocating, but from up here the air was cooler, thinner. It carried the faint scent of something unfamiliar… or maybe just a memory I couldn't place.
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. "Let's move."
Groans of protest rose from Henry and Ella, but no one argued. One by one, we pushed ourselves to our feet, brushing dust from our clothes and readying for the final stretch.
The climb resumed—mercifully, it was only hiking now. I wasn't sure how much more climbing my shoulder could take; every swing of my arm sent a faint reminder of the strain earlier. If I'd had to haul myself up another wall, I knew it would've gone from sore to useless in minutes.
The peak felt close. I could sense it in the wind. Each step brought a stronger gust, closer carrying a scent unlike the dry, lifeless air of the wasteland below. It was fresher, cleaner… almost inviting.
Then a roar split the air. Low, guttural, and raw, like the earth itself was groaning beneath us.
We all froze.
The sound vibrated through the stone beneath our feet, reverberating in our chests like distant thunder. Hands flew to weapons on instinct, every muscle coiled tight in anticipation.
It hadn't been far off. If I had to guess, just beyond the ridge.
But as the seconds passed with nothing but silence and the wind, we eventually relaxed as Amelia signaled for us to proceed cautiously.
Weapons still in hand, we pressed on, the ridge cresting just a few feet ahead.
My breath hitched as I hauled myself over the final ledge, and for the first time in days, something other than fear took hold of me.
Below us, maybe a couple of hundred feet down, stretched a vast forest. A sea of deep green that seemed to go on forever, rolling into the horizon like waves. Towering trees rose high into the sky, their canopies thick and swaying gently in the breeze. The air smelled different here—rich, damp, and laced with something faintly sweet.
It was all so alive.
I exhaled slowly, drinking it in. After days of nothing but heat and sand, the sight hit me like a wave. I didn't realize how much I missed color until now.
"Incredible," Ella breathed beside me, her voice barely audible.
I nodded, unable to look away. Something stirred in my chest, something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Hope.
This wasn't just more wasteland. This was life.
But that also meant something else.
Where there's life… there's danger.
My hand tightened around my weapon. So what? Life always comes with danger. That didn't mean we turn away from it.
We began the descent, pushing into the edge of the forest. The shift in environment was almost immediate, with thick roots underfoot, leaves brushing against our arms, and strange flora lining the path. I reached out and ran my hand over a soft, fern-like plant. Its surface was smooth, almost velvety. I plucked it and rubbed the fronds between my fingers. A green residue clung to my skin, leaving behind a scent like fresh rain and earth. This was nothing like the dry winds we'd come to expect.
I closed my eyes for a second, just to feel it. Then let the plant fall back to the dirt.
"What do you think, Amelia?" I asked, glancing at the treeline. "Set up camp here?"
She paused, eyes scanning the dense underbrush, still cautious of whatever was out there.
"Not yet," she said. "I want a better sense of what's out here before we commit. I don't want any surprises."
I gave a small nod. Smart. We'd come too far to be reckless now.
That's when Henry's boot slid on loose dirt. He yelped, skidding downhill in a barely controlled tumble before slamming chest-first into a thick, jutting root. The impact rattled through the quiet, followed by a groan.
He clung to the root like it had just saved his life, then shook out his hands and flashed a weak grin. "Okay… maybe I went a little too fast."
Amelia just stared at him for a long beat, expression unreadable.
"…We'll scout the area first," she finally said, turning back to the treeline. "Once we know it's safe, we'll set up camp."
I just gave Henry a pitying look before continuing.
"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 was filled with quick 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.
"Don't get 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."
Henry immediately gave the ground a wary glance, sidestepping farther away than usual.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Yeah… boiling alive's not high on my bucket list.
Hours passed like this 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 the decay of foliage. 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.
"Ok…" Amelia breathed, stopping everyone from going further. "This is probably the best spot we're going to get," she said as she motioned upwards, at the base of an enormous tree. Its thick, sturdy limbs stretching 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.
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. However, I 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? What if I did something differently?
I stared down at the blade, running my thumb along its edge. It was sharper now, but not nearly sharp enough. The serpent's scales were thick.
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. Sure, my pulse rifle could do some damage, but I didn't have it, so what could I use instead?
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—so I wouldn't spiral into the "what ifs" of the past. Sharpening the blade gave me something tangible to focus on with each pass against the rock, creating a subtle edge, as if I could sharpen my own thoughts and 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.
With a sigh, I pushed the blade harder 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. They hung low to the ground, their sleek scales glimmering in the moonlight as they moved through the brush with an almost intelligent 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, as if 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. Each taking their turn to sniff the air and then circle the tree once more.
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 probably 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. Dam, and here I was hoping for a quiet night so I could finally get some sleep. Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to relax my tense muscles. It didn't look like they could climb, so we were safe at the moment, but in the morning… well, that was a problem for the morning.
The forest's hum carried on, steady and uncaring. Leaves whispered overhead, moonlight shifting in restless patterns across the branches. My fingers traced the bark beside me, following its uneven grooves, letting the rhythm of the night try to settle my nerves.
A faint creak of movement at my side made me jolt. I turned sharply, half-ready to reach for my blade, before the familiar face emerged from the shadows.
I let out a slow breath. "Next time, maybe announce yourself before you scare me half to death."
Henry chuckled, the sound low and tired, before lowering himself beside me. "I'll try… Anyway, looks like it's my shift."
"Alright," I murmured, sliding my blade back into its sheath as I stood.
Henry gave a slight nod, unreadable in the dim light. He rolled his shoulders, loosening the stiffness from the climb, then settled into the spot I'd just vacated. "Get some rest, Atlas. You've earned it."
I lingered a moment, still keyed up despite the fatigue creeping in at the edges. With one last glance at the dark expanse of forest below, I gave a brief nod and headed back to find a spot to sleep.