Space.
Silent, vast, infinite.
The emergency ship Skif drifts in the black, soundless void, wrapped in cosmic stillness. In the distance, stars glimmer, indifferent and cold. A blue pulsar flashes briefly across the observation screen—its icy light a warning disguised as serenity.
A beacon, perhaps. Or a silent threat.
**
Crew Cabin.
Warm, muted light pools from the ceiling, casting a glow that feels almost tender. As if this place—adrift on the very edge of reality—could somehow shelter them. Could let them forget everything, and simply… be.
A low vibration hums through the floor, like a heartbeat. A pulse shared between ship and crew.
Everything here whispers comfort: a blanket draped over a chair, mugs half-filled and cooling, a pile of books in the corner. But comfort is only a surface. Beneath it—an unease.
A tension curled into the edges of the air, quiet as a breath that's being held.
**
Maria and Pietro lie curled on the couch, limbs entwined. Their breathing is slow, measured, perfectly in sync.
Her eyes are closed. One of his hands threads gently through her hair.
Peace.
Too much peace.
The kind that precedes a storm.
She shifts under his touch, feline and content. He kisses her—slow, lingering. A kiss of presence. Of this moment alone.
His smile draws hers, light dancing in her gaze.
And then—
A jolt.
"Ow!" Maria gasps, flinching.
Her hand shoots to her chest.
The pendant around her neck glows. First faintly—then flares. A sharp arc ripples across her skin, slicing like a wire of living lightning. She stiffens. A pulse. A click.
Then—nothing.
**
A Fall into Nowhere.
She floats.
No weight.
No shape.
Just the soft ripple of hair drifting like she's suspended inside someone else's dream.
No walls. No floor. No direction. No meaning.
Where… am I?
No voice, yet the thought resounds like a bell struck in vacuum.
Am I dead?
There's no fear.
Only displacement.
A cold so ancient it doesn't sting—it remembers.
She tries to move, but there is no body. Only awareness.
And then—
Sparks.
Pinpoints of light spark in the black. Slowly they gather, forming a pattern. A pattern she knows.
From her pendant. From a place she's never been but always carried.
The lights weave into something greater—
A structure.
A symbol.
No—an algorithm. A prayer. A living code. Meaning incarnate.
**
A Voice.
"You are a believer. The time has come."
The key has been activated.
Maria shudders.
Not from sound—but from the voice inside her bones.
It doesn't speak.
It remembers for her.
"You belong to us now—to Hanaris."
The altar of rebirth will open again.
The light thickens.
Takes shape.
A figure forms from star-dust. It moves. It watches.
**
Awakening.
Maria gasps. Her heart crashes against her ribs.
She's back.
She stares around the cabin. Still here. Pietro still cradling her.
But something inside her… isn't.
She jerks upright, shoving him away like waking up in the wrong body.
"What the hell?" Pietro recoils. His face is all shock and worry. "What just happened to you?"
"I..." Her voice trembles, trembling with her. "I was somewhere else. Nowhere. Everything was... gone."
He frowns, trying to ground her. "You just blacked out. A second, maybe less."
Maria clutches her chest.
The pendant is still there.
Hot.
Alive.
"How long was I... gone?" Her whisper barely forms sound.
"You didn't even move."
**
Slowly, Maria pulls off the pendant.
Holds it in her palm.
Stares at it like it's venom. Or truth.
She reaches it out to him.
"Put it on."
"What? Maria, what is this? You're scaring me."
"Just... please. Put it on."
Her voice is frayed—thin and cracked at the edge of prayer.
He hesitates. But obeys.
**
Click.
A second pendant materializes on Maria's chest.
Identical.
As if conjured.
As if mirrored.
As if branded.
And then—at once, in one voice not their own:
"I believe in the god Hanaris."
**
Silence.
Heavy.
Absolute.
Tomb-deep.
They stare at each other, stunned.
But it's like looking through deep water.
Through a dream.
"You heard it too?" she whispers.
"Yes…" Pietro nods. "But I didn't mean to say it."
**
Maria freezes.
The cold inside her is no longer just fear—it's clarity.
A clarity like the flick of a switch in the dark.
It wasn't a dream.
It was a command.
"We need to…" she begins, her voice hollow.
"…put the pendant on the captain," Pietro finishes.
**
They rise.
In perfect synchronicity.
As if pulled by strings.
No words.
No glances.
Only rhythm.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The door hisses open.
They walk out.
They vanish down the corridor.
To where?
For what?
No questions remain.
Only will.
Not theirs.
Not human.