The air reeked of ozone and decay as Kael Vorn stepped onto the crimson soil of Virelia, his boots sinking into the fine dust. The twin suns hung low on the horizon, casting jagged shadows across the cracked landscape. He adjusted his helmet, the visor flickering with data streams—temperature: 42°C, oxygen: 18%. Not enough to sustain human life without suits, but the colony’s scanners had detected something deeper. A pulse. A signal. Kael tightened his grip on the plasma cutter at his hip, its blue glow reflecting in his eyes. The others were already ahead, their boots crunching over brittle rock. Lira, the geologist, knelt beside a cluster of obsidian-like spires, her gloved fingers tracing the grooves etched into their surfaces. “This isn’t natural,” she said, her voice muffled by the helmet. “These markings—They’re patterns. Like code.” Kael crouched beside her, brushing dust from a ridge. The symbols pulsed faintly, as if responding to their presence. A low hum vibrated through his bones. “We’re not alone here,” he muttered. The ground trembled. A fissure split the earth, releasing a plume of black vapor that coiled into the air like a living thing. Lira scrambled back, her breath ragged. “What the hell was that?” Kael’s hand went to his cutter, but the vapor dispersed before he could react. The others were shouting now, their voices overlapping in chaos. A shadow passed over them—massive, jagged. Kael looked up. A structure loomed in the distance, half-buried in the dust, its surface shimmering with an unnatural sheen. “That’s not part of the colony’s maps,” Renn, the engineer, said, his voice tight. “We need to move. Now.” But Kael didn’t budge. The symbols on the spires had changed, their patterns shifting like liquid. The air grew heavier, charged with an energy that made his teeth ache. He turned to Lira. “What does it say?” She stared at the markings, her face pale. “It’s a warning,” she whispered. “Or a request.” The ground shuddered again, and this time, the fissure widened, revealing a cavernous void below. A voice echoed in Kael’s mind—not spoken, but felt. *Come.* He took a step forward, then another. The others called his name, but their voices faded. The dust swirled around him, obscuring the world. When it cleared, he stood at the edge of a vast chamber, its walls lined with the same pulsating symbols. A figure emerged from the shadows—a being of light and shadow, its form shifting like smoke. “You are not the first,” it said, its voice a chorus of whispers. “But you may be the last.” Kael’s breath came in short bursts. “Who are you?” The being tilted its head. “We are the Weavers. Keepers of the Veil. You have breached it.” A surge of fear coursed through Kael, but he forced himself to speak. “Why? Why now?” The Weavers’ form solidified, revealing a face that was both human and alien, its eyes twin stars. “The Veil is thinning. The balance falters. You are the key.” Before Kael could respond, the chamber shook. A deafening crack split the air as the ceiling began to collapse. The Weavers vanished, leaving only the pulsing symbols behind. Kael ran, his boots slapping against the stone floor as debris rained down. He reached the surface just as the entrance sealed itself, leaving him stranded. The colony’s base was gone, reduced to smoldering ruins. Lira and the others were nowhere to be found. Kael stood alone, the weight of the Weavers’ words pressing against his skull. The Veil was thinning. The balance was failing. And he had become the key. He turned toward the distant structure, its shimmering surface now pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Whatever awaited him inside, he would face it alone.