At last, the first rays of light pierced through the canopy and brushed against Kiran’s face, casting a pale and reassuring glow over him. The forest remained silent—unnaturally so—heavy with tension. But he knew he couldn’t stay perched on that branch forever. Die here, slowly, from hunger or thirst? No way.

  He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and tossed his old baseball bat to the ground. The metallic clang against the damp earth echoed for several seconds.

  Nothing moved.

  No suspicious noise. No growling. No hurried footsteps.

  Satisfied—or at least reassured—he carefully slid down the trunk and landed cautiously on the soft ground. He retrieved the rusted bat and resumed his march.

  Exhausted, he moved slowly, almost staggering. His aching legs reminded him of every fall, every brutal impact from the crash. Only his filtration canteen—miraculously intact—allowed him to remain standing. With every sip, he moistened his dry throat, slightly dulling the hunger gnawing at his empty stomach.

  But the deeper he ventured into the woods, the stronger the sensation became.

  A presence.

  That familiar feeling of being followed. Hunted.

  He stopped several times, short of breath, scanning the shifting shadows between the trees.

  Nothing.

  Not a sound.

  And yet he was certain: something was tracking him. A patient, intelligent predator. It had never lost sight of him.

  Soon the terrain changed. The forest floor gave way to a steep, slippery, rocky incline. The trees thinned out, replaced by a barren mineral expanse bordered by sandstone blocks eroded by wind and time. A narrow path opened before him, winding and lined with broken stones.

  Kiran stopped.

  He no longer knew where to go. He was lost.

  The plan to reach the other half of the ship now seemed illusory. Hunger, fatigue, pain, and blood loss had clouded his mind, numbed his reasoning.

  And then he understood.

  The creature hadn’t tried to catch him immediately. It had followed him in silence, waiting.

  It wanted him exhausted.

  An ambush predator… waiting for its prey to collapse on its own.

  How do you escape the inevitable?

  The question looped in his mind, but one certainty prevailed: he must not falter.

  Never.

  He couldn’t stop. Not now.

  He tightened his grip on the old baseball bat, fingers clenched around the cold, rusted metal. This pitiful defensive tool was his only comfort against an invisible predator whose shape and size he did not know… but whose presence he felt—heavy and constant.

  He kept moving, determined, each step echoing against the damp stone of this natural labyrinth. He turned right, then left, venturing deeper into the mineral maze, stalked by shadow.

  Then he stopped abruptly.

  Ahead of him stood a strange stone block, incongruous with the surrounding landscape. At first glance, it might have been a simple rock formation shaped by time…

  But no.

  Kiran’s eye—sharpened by years of study at the Mazari Institute under Eamon—was not fooled.

  This shape was not natural.

  This was not erosion.

  It was architecture.

  A structure.

  A wall.

  Or what remained of one.

  The ruins of an ancient dwelling.

  His eyes widened.

  He approached and brushed his fingertips along the surface, detecting half-erased patterns, grooves—perhaps even ancient writing.

  Someone—or something—had lived here.

  And that thought, however fleeting, reignited a spark within him.

  Maybe they weren’t alone.

  Maybe there was still a chance—however slim—to return home.

  Reinvigorated by that glimmer of hope, Kiran began to run. His aching legs protested, but his mind ignored them.

  He needed shelter before nightfall.

  And these ruins… these ruins might be the key.

  But the illusion of hope lasted only an instant.

  Before him, like the hand of fate closing around his throat, a creature emerged from the shadows, blocking his path.

  Kiran froze.

  The nightmare had a form.

  And it was real.

  The thing was massive.

  Bipedal.

  Bestial.

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  Standing on two powerful hind legs, its body was taut like a drawn bow, every muscle vibrating beneath gray skin striped with black markings. Its elongated snout opened into a gaping maw, from which hung a tongue bristling with filaments, ending in two needle-like tips. Rows of triangular teeth lined its hideous jaw, ready to tear.

  Its abnormally long arms dangled at its sides. Each forearm ended in a seven-fingered clawed hand—natural blades ready to disembowel without mercy.

  Its four eyes gleamed with cold, reptilian intelligence, locked onto Kiran with chilling intensity.

  And atop its skull, framing its deformed face, a mane of organic dreadlocks undulated slowly—as if reacting to his fear.

  A monster.

  A predator.

  A living nightmare.

  Kiran stepped back, the bat trembling in his hands, breath shallow, trapped between ruins and death.

  Trying to remain calm, he hoped noise would be enough to drive it away. Frantically, he slammed his baseball bat against the rocky walls, sending a shrill cacophony echoing through the mineral gorge. Metallic strikes ricocheted off stone, tearing through the air in a harsh symphony.

  The alien stepped back slightly, visibly annoyed.

  Hope flickered again.

  Maybe that would be enough—

  It wasn’t.

  With a guttural roar, the beast lunged forward with terrifying speed—a mass of muscle and claws launched at breakneck velocity.

  Kiran had no choice but to run.

  Survival instinct took over.

  A surge of adrenaline swept away the pain radiating through his battered body. In an almost supernatural burst, he briefly recovered his legendary speed. He leapt and zigzagged between stone blocks, feet skimming the soaked ground, breath ragged.

  He plunged deeper into the rocky maze until he stumbled upon what appeared to be new ruins. A natural corridor opened between two collapsed walls.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  He dove into a narrow crevice, praying it was too tight for the monster to follow.

  But the creature did not relent.

  A guttural growl echoed, followed by the sinister scrape of claws against stone. The massive head forced itself into the opening, jaws snapping furiously mere inches from Kiran’s face. Its fetid breath crashed into him like a blow.

  Blocked at the shoulders, the monster clawed at the rock, tearing and digging, gaining ground inch by inch in relentless fury. Earth and stone shattered around them.

  Desperate, Kiran raised his bat and wedged it between the creature’s jaws, holding it at arm’s length, fighting against the crushing pressure of its bite. He gritted his teeth, his entire body shaking from the shockwaves of its strength.

  The bat bent.

  Groaned.

  Twisted.

  Then, with a metallic crack, it snapped.

  The sudden break threw Kiran backward. He crashed into the bottom of the crevice, his back slamming against stone. The air was knocked from his lungs. He closed his eyes.

  And waited for the end.

  — In my head, I was dead at that moment…, he murmured in resignation.

  But the end did not come.

  In the distance, a sound pierced the tension.

  A sharp whistle—followed by an energy impact.

  Kiran recognized it.

  He knew that sound far too well since Oberon.

  A blaster shot.

  The beast froze.

  It howled, recoiled, yanked its head from the crevice—

  And vanished.

  Fleeing into shadow like a specter driven back by light.

  Kiran lay motionless in the dust, gasping, eyes wide. His heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum.

  Death had come…

  And brushed past him without claiming him.

  He slowly crawled out of the crevice, breath short, scanning his surroundings.

  No trace of the monster.

  Only heavy, threatening silence.

  But if the creature had disappeared, time had not.

  Night had fallen.

  And Kiran, despite everything, found himself once again at the edge of the forest, wrapped in shifting shadows and icy drizzle. His heart still pounded violently; his trembling leg barely supported him.

  On the ground, his gaze fell upon a long wooden stick, crudely shaped. He grabbed it without thinking.

  Maybe it could serve him.

  An improvised weapon?

  A torch?

  He tore a strip of cloth from his tattered clothing and wrapped it tightly around one end of the stick.

  Fire.

  Fire could save his life.

  He knew it.

  The oldest weapon.

  The most primitive—and the most effective.

  He quickened his pace, throat tight, senses alert, searching for shelter.

  Then, as he rounded a rock formation—

  His blood froze.

  It was there.

  The creature.

  Motionless, standing in the darkness, its nightmarish silhouette barely visible in the gloom. Its four eyes glowed cold and sharp as blades.

  Visceral terror seized him.

  He tried to light the torch, hands shaking—but fear paralyzed him. His fingers slipped. The stick pivoted and struck the rocky wall. A shard broke loose and clattered to the ground.

  Too late.

  The creature shrieked and charged.

  Kiran stumbled backward.

  The monster leapt.

  Its clawed paw sliced through the air with a sinister hiss, narrowly missing his throat—but its razor claws tore violently into his right leg.

  Pain exploded through him like a shockwave.

  He screamed.

  Pure agony.

  But he did not yield.

  By reflex, he flicked the lighter against the cloth.

  A flame burst forth.

  The torch ignited.

  The sudden light tore another cry from the creature—guttural, almost panicked. It recoiled violently and, in the blink of an eye, vanished once more into the darkness, swallowed by the forest.

  Kiran staggered.

  He was saved.

  Again.

  Barely.

  He straightened, leg burning, blood flowing freely and leaving a crimson trail behind him. He limped forward, every step torture, torch trembling before him. The forest seemed to watch, silent, as if holding its breath.

  Then—

  Finally—

  He saw it.

  A cave.

  A narrow cavity carved into the rock, barely visible behind a cluster of foliage.

  He rushed inside without hesitation, body broken, mind in tatters. He collapsed within, the scent of damp stone filling his lungs.

  Shelter.

  A reprieve.

  Another night survived.

  — There… now you know everything. It’s been two days since I’ve been trapped here. Two days without being able to leave, paralyzed by pain… and by fear. That creature… my leg… I was trapped.

  Kiran spoke in a breath, as if each word weighed a ton.

  A heavy silence followed his account.

  Adam and Seyra remained frozen, eyes lost in the flickering campfire flames. Neither found the words. The weight of what they had just heard hung in the air like an invisible veil.

  Finally, Seyra broke the silence. Her voice was barely above a whisper, laced with disbelief.

  — Two days… without water, without food… It’s a miracle you’re still alive.

  Kiran slowly nodded. His features were drawn, hollowed by exhaustion. The brief spark of hope in his eyes dimmed.

  — I thought it was over… more than once. I was ready to give up. But… thank you. Thank you for finding me. Thank you for not leaving me—

  His voice broke.

  His hands began to tremble.

  Without warning, tears spilled over. Deep sobs—silent at first, then uncontrollable—shook his shoulders. It was as if everything he had held back since the crash—fear, loneliness, pain, the dread of death—poured out all at once.

  Adam stepped forward, eyes misted. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  Without a word, Kiran collapsed against him, burying his face in his chest. Adam wrapped his arms around him in a warm, steady embrace.

  — It’s over. Do you hear me? You’re not alone anymore, Adam whispered.

  What does the trial he went through make you think of?

  And what do you think will happen next?