The sky above Earth 2018 was a shroud of absolute ink. No twinkling lights, no constellations—just a suffocating, silent darkness that seemed to swallow the very breath out of the world.
Cell stood on the edge of the rusted observation deck, his eyes strained, searching for a single spark in the abyss.
"You're doing it again, Cell," Euda sighed, leaning against the cold metal railing beside him. Her voice was thin, carried away by the biting wind. "Staring at the graveyard. There's nothing left up there but ghosts and cold rocks."
Cell didn't blink. "I don't think it's empty, Euda. Something is moving behind that curtain. The stars didn't just 'die.' They were taken. I want to see it for myself. I want to go up there."
Euda scoffed, a hollow sound. "With what? A death wish? We're stuck on a dying rock, and you're dreaming of flying into the mouth of a shark."
"It's not a dream," Cell whispered, his hand tightening on the railing. "I can feel it. A flicker. Something is lurking in that darkness, and it's watching us."
"And it'll stay watching while we rot here," a heavy voice interrupted.
They both turned to see Pridge walking toward them, his face weary and his flight jacket stained with grease. He threw a discarded wrench onto a pile of scrap metal.
"Forget it, Cell," Pridge grunted, his tone flat. "It's impossible. The atmosphere is unstable, the engines are scrap, and there's no fuel left in this sector that hasn't turned to sludge. Even if you built a miracle, the Void would crush you before you cleared the stratosphere. There is no 'up there' anymore."
Cell finally looked away from the sky, his eyes burning with a quiet, dangerous resolve.
"The impossible is just a law we haven't broken yet, Pridge," Cell said, looking back at the vast blackness. "I'm going. Even if I have to burn my own soul to light the way."
High above them, unbeknownst to their mortal eyes, a Great Eye shifted in the dark. Something was waiting.