The forest seemed impenetrable.

  A living wall of vegetation rose before him, formed by titanic trees with massive trunks, coated in thick moss and veined with hanging vines. This place did not seem made to welcome an alien visitor. The lush greenery contrasted violently with the scene of desolation around him: scattered debris littered the soaked, slippery ground, where gnarled roots twisted together like traps waiting to trip anyone careless enough to take a wrong step.

  Facing this ocean of the unknown, Adam made a decision: he had to return to the ship first, gather anything that might be useful before venturing farther.

  Moving through the wreckage, he searched methodically, every motion slowed by the stabbing pain in his battered muscles. The effort was grueling, the tension in his body weighing down each step. He headed back toward the remains of the cockpit, scanning every corner for the slightest vital resource.

  Nothing.

  The cockpit was empty, stripped of anything that might have helped him.

  Forty-five long minutes passed.

  Then, finally, a reward.

  In a partially collapsed compartment, flooded with earth and moisture, he found a protein bar. Wet, crushed, but still wrapped. His stomach, twisted with hunger, clenched at the sight of the meager discovery. He opened it and devoured it in seconds, ignoring its bland taste. A little farther on, a filtering canteen caught his eye. By some miracle, it still seemed functional despite the crash.

  He searched again, hoping to find more supplies.

  Nothing.

  However, in a metal crate half-buried in the ship’s carcass, he found an old blaster. Dusty and discolored, the weapon bore the marks of time. It must have been there for decades, likely a forgotten remnant of equipment Eamon had brought aboard during an old expedition.

  Adam examined it carefully, turning it in his hand before pressing the charge indicator.

  “Low residual charge… maybe one or two shots, at most,” he murmured.

  Not ideal, but better than nothing. He slipped the blaster against his left side, tucking it into his pants.

  His gaze was then drawn to a long, sharpened piece of metal, a twisted fragment of the ship’s structure. He picked it up. An improvised weapon. A crude, primitive blade, but one that could prove useful both as a tool and as a last resort.

  He took a moment to assess his gear.

  “A canteen… okay. A blaster… okay. A metal bar… okay. Food… nothing.”

  He clenched his jaw. He would have to make do.

  Another problem came to mind: the rain.

  He was soaked to the bone. His clothes, heavy with water, clung to his chilled skin. He needed some way to protect himself.

  Then, an idea.

  Among the debris, he pulled free an old plastic sheet, probably thermal insulation torn from the ship’s walls. He spread it on the ground, thinking about how to adapt it to his needs.

  “That should do.”

  Carefully, he cut and fastened the sheet around his body, using stripped electrical wires from the ship to secure it in place. Slowly, he transformed the insulation into a crude cloak, a makeshift barrier against the relentless rain. A rough hood covered his head, and he hoped the material would be enough to shield him from wind and moisture.

  When he made the final adjustments, he felt a faint sense of relief.

  For the first time since waking in this nightmare, he felt a little more prepared.

  The plastic crackled softly with each movement, but at least he was no longer completely at the mercy of the endless rain.

  He searched the blaster crate again and found a backpack. He slipped his makeshift equipment inside.

  It was time to face the unknown.

  The plan was simple: cross the forest, find the other half of the ship, and find Kiran. Simple… in theory.

  The hardest part still lay ahead, and Adam knew it. Navigating an unknown, potentially hostile forest would be a true ordeal. No landmarks. No way to know if he was heading in the right direction. Every sound, every crack beneath his feet, could be a warning. A trap.

  He tightened his grip on the metal bar in his left hand and stepped out of the ship’s remains, the pack secured on his back. The tireless rain would be his traveling companion.

  The moment he crossed the treeline, he was swallowed by the density of the vegetation.

  Far from twisted metal and the earth torn apart by the crash, Adam found himself at the heart of a wild world, where only the crackle of wet leaves and the deep drumming of rain accompanied his steps. Around him, the foliage trembled under the impact of falling water, whispering in a hypnotic murmur. The wind slid through it, making it ripple like a living creature.

  Before leaving the ship, Adam had noticed a hill. A higher point. Ideal.

  If he could reach it, he might get a clear view of the surroundings. With any luck, he would spot the other section of the wreck.

  “The crash must’ve been violent… there should be visible traces.”

  The summit seemed close and relatively clear, almost rocky. Perfect ground to survey the area.

  He moved forward, cautiously weaving between towering trees. He had to force his way through thick brush and low branches, and every movement sent a cold cascade of water crashing down on him, streaming over his makeshift cloak.

  The trees of this world resembled terrestrial pines… and yet, they were different.

  Their needles were oddly shaped, curved like tiny spoons, designed to capture rainwater before slowly folding, channeling the liquid down toward the trunk. Those trunks were covered in small openings, forming a complex network of natural channels, as if these sylvan giants fed on rain itself.

  But some trees seemed more hostile than others.

  Their trunks bristled with enormous sharp spines, protecting their wood like natural armor. They blended into the forest, their gray-green bark merging with the lush vegetation. Only their darker leaves created a subtle contrast.

  A strange world. Alive.

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  But he didn’t have time to study it.

  He had to move.

  Progress was slow.

  The constant humidity and relentless rain made every step harder. The ground, stripped of grass, had become a thick layer of slick mud, where each stride threatened to send him sprawling. He advanced cautiously, every foothold calculated, yet splashes still coated him with each step.

  Soon, an unpleasant mix of cold and heaviness clung to his soaked clothes, weighing down his boots, making every movement more difficult.

  And yet… something felt strange.

  Despite the effort and the strain in his muscles, walking here felt easier than on Earth.

  For a moment, he wondered. Was gravity weaker on this planet? That would explain why, despite the unstable terrain, he wasn’t sinking as deeply as he’d expected. But without instruments, he couldn’t be sure.

  Then, another detail caught his attention.

  The pain.

  The soreness, the lingering aches from the crash… had lessened. Slowly, almost imperceptibly. He should have been exhausted, weakened by the impact and shock. Yet he felt… better.

  Why?

  Adrenaline? Maybe. Or… something else.

  An unknown effect of this rain? A phenomenon unique to this environment?

  His body was responding in ways he didn’t understand.

  And that unsettled him.

  As he pressed deeper into the forest, the terrain shifted abruptly.

  The ground, relatively flat until now, suddenly tilted beneath his feet. The slope grew steep.

  Adam had reached the base of the hill.

  The ascent toward the observation point he’d spotted began.

  The effort quickly became punishing. Each step demanded more energy, and he had to focus harder to avoid slipping. The treacherous mud constantly threatened to send him tumbling backward, ready to erase all his progress.

  His metal bar, a simple piece of scrap from the wreck, proved invaluable.

  From improvised weapon, it had become a providential walking staff. He drove it into the ground with every step, using it to haul himself upward.

  The summit felt endless.

  His muscles burned, the rain made every grip uncertain, and the weight of his gear burdened every movement. But he had no choice.

  He had to reach it. He had to see.

  After hours of effort, Adam finally reached the top of the hill.

  Exhausted, breath ragged, he allowed himself a well-earned pause.

  His body demanded a moment of relief. He dropped heavily onto a flat rock, letting his aching muscles savor the brief calm.

  Wearily, he pulled out his filtering canteen, raised it to the sky, and let it fill with precious rain. Water streamed along his soaked fingers, slowly collecting inside the container.

  Once full, he sealed it and pressed the activation button.

  A thin beam of light immediately passed through the canteen.

  At first murky brown, showing impurities, it gradually turned blue, then settled into a pure, stable white.

  A thin stream of brownish liquid was expelled through the purge valve, silent proof of the filter’s work. A final white flash blinked before steadying, signaling the water was drinkable.

  Adam lifted the canteen and took a long, grateful swallow, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat.

  Rehydrated, he began to observe.

  The panoramic view before him was breathtaking. As far as the eye could see, an endless sea of green undulated beneath a heavy, storm-laden sky. No trace of civilization. No buildings, no roads, no technological signals.

  This world was primitive. Completely wild.

  The immensity of the landscape tightened his chest. Instead of freedom, it amplified his crushing solitude. A shiver ran through him. For a moment, he felt small. Insignificant.

  He squinted, searching for any sign, but the low clouds limited visibility. Moisture seeped into his clothes, unpleasantly sliding along his skin. Was his plastic cloak poorly fitted? Torn?

  He clenched his teeth, ignored the biting cold, and continued scanning.

  Nothing.

  No sign of the ship’s left flank.

  A frustrated breath escaped him. Where are you, Kiran?

  Then, finally, something caught his eye.

  In the distance, a massive cliff rose like a natural barrier, marking the edge of a vast plateau. His gaze followed the rocky slope downward and he spotted the torn remains of the section of the ship he had come from.

  A deep, gaping furrow carved into the earth testified to the violence of the crash. For kilometers, ripped and plowed soil formed a massive scar, a wound inflicted on this unknown planet. His stomach tightened when he saw where the wreck had stopped: part of the hull hung over empty space, half-balanced at the edge of the precipice.

  Still no sign of the left flank.

  Adrenaline surged. What if that section had crashed much farther… or worse, fallen into the abyss?

  What if it was on the other side of the hill?

  Heart pounding, Adam hurried over. And then, he saw it.

  A gaping wound tore through the forest.

  A colossal scar, a deep trench splitting the sea of trees as if a titanic blade had struck the planet itself. The ground was shredded, trees uprooted, hurled like twigs. This trail of destruction stretched into the horizon, twice as long, even more brutal than the one left by the other half of the ship.

  The sight stole his breath.

  His eyes followed the devastation to its end. And there, amid the ruined forest… he saw it.

  The ship’s left flank. Broken. Torn open.

  Resting in absolute silence, like a fallen titan, crushed against the earth.

  Relief and dread washed over him.

  Adam stared at the shattered carcass, the torn, burned, twisted metal monster rising from the green sea. The jungle already seemed to be swallowing the wreck, as if the planet itself were trying to erase the traces of its intrusion.

  He let out a breath. At least now he knew where to go.

  But a shadow lingered over his relief: time was against him.

  He frowned, estimating the situation aloud.

  “Okay… judging by how long it took me to climb and the distance covered, I must’ve done around ten kilometers…”

  He ran a hand over his makeshift hood, plastic crackling under his fingers.

  “The left flank is farther… maybe fifteen kilometers. But going down will be faster. I need to get there before nightfall.”

  Without waiting, he began his descent. The wind suddenly howled with renewed fury, lashing the trees, sending icy gusts through the forest. The rain intensified, drumming against his cloak like projectiles. The terrain was treacherous. Mud slid beneath his boots, every step threatening to send him tumbling. He clutched at gnarled trunks to slow himself, struggling to control his descent. Around him, the forest grew denser, closing in as he left the exposed heights.

  Then he felt something strange.

  At first, a vague impression. An unpleasant tingling.

  He kept moving, trying to ignore it. But it lingered.

  A chill ran down his spine. Something was wrong.

  He stopped abruptly. The silence pressed in. Only rain. Wind in leaves.

  He wasn’t alone.

  His heart accelerated. Instinct screamed what he already knew: something was watching him.

  He inhaled deeply, his hand sliding toward his blaster. With a smooth motion, he drew the weapon, feeling its familiar vibration beneath his fingers.

  With a simple gesture, he switched the firing mode.

  Lethal.

  His finger rested on the trigger.

  Ready.

  Blaster steady in his left hand, Adam swept the forest with his gaze, every shadow becoming a potential threat. Left to right, slow, methodical. Every rustle, every tremor of foliage was examined. In his right hand, he still gripped the metal bar, pointed forward like a blade ready to cut the unseen. His breath escaped in pale clouds in the cool, humid air, while rain battered the leaves, treacherously masking any footsteps.

  Then he realized.

  Something was wrong.

  A silence.

  But not just any silence.

  Absolute.

  Since his arrival, there had been no birdsong. No insect hum. No animals fleeing his passage. Only wind. Rain.

  And this oppressive void.

  His heart pounded. How had he not noticed sooner?

  It wasn’t natural.

  At first, the absence of animal life had seemed trivial. Maybe this planet only hosted plant-based life. But now, another idea crept into his mind.

  What if this silence was a warning?

  The kind that spreads like a wave through nature, telling every creature to vanish before it’s too late.

  A glacial shiver ran along his spine.

  What if this silence was caused by something… that had been tracking him from the beginning?

  He forced his breathing to slow.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Don’t let panic take over.

  Stay focused.

  B) ??? Intrigue — something lives in this forest

  C) ?? Tension — he is alone, lost, and in danger

  D) ?? Curiosity — I need to see more to understand

  A, B, C or D below.