The air was still, soft with the quiet hum of early systems powering up for departure.
Lira stood beside Arron near the treeline, her visor half-cracked open to feel the cold Zarconis breeze on her face. It wasn't morning—not really—but the rhythm of their bodies wanted it to be. Behind them, the prep lights of the crawler flickered through mist.
She nudged his shoulder.
"You're not allowed to wear that face this early."
Arron didn't turn. "What face?"
"That one," she said, smirking. "The 'everything might go wrong' face. I like your 'just one more scan and coffee' face better."
A breath escaped him—not quite a laugh, but close.
"I'm just thinking," he said. "This place… it's not like Kewaa. I mean, it's quiet. Too quiet."
"You hate quiet?"
"No. I just don't trust it anymore."
She looked at him a second longer. Then glanced at the horizon—where crystal-rooted trees swayed in a breeze they couldn't feel. Moons hung low and pale above them. And for a moment, everything felt still. Peaceful.
"I used to think you were made of quiet," she said. "Back then, you never talked unless someone asked you to. But you always stayed. You didn't leave when things fell apart."
Arron finally looked at her, eyes shadowed under his hood. "I didn't know how."
"You still don't," she said softly, grinning. "That's why you're still here."
They stood that way for a little longer, shoulder to shoulder. No tech between them. No alerts. No warnings.
Just the breath between two people
He pulled in a breath through his teeth. "Do you remember the training sim where you knocked Haren off the ledge during the drone sprint?"
Lira burst out laughing. "He screamed like a boiled eel."
"Then threw his whole boot at you."
"He missed," she said, proud. "By a lot."
"That was the first time I laughed after my parents…" He stopped himself.
She looked at him, gently. "Yeah. I know."
He didn't move for a second. Then quietly, "You made it okay to stay. Back then. I was ready to walk from the program. From all of it."
"You were always going to be here."
"No. You were the reason I didn't run."
She didn't know what to say to that. And before she could figure it out—
> The wind changed.
It didn't blow. It pulled.
A flicker—barely a shift at the far edge of the trees. Not movement. Not sound. Just... presence.
Arron's smile fell. His body tensed.
"Did you see that?" he asked.
Lira blinked. "Where?"
He pointed. "There. Leftmost tree. Third arc bend. That shadow isn't natural."
She narrowed her eyes. The mist coiled near the roots—but something was wrong with its edges. The mist bent around something that wasn't there.
Then came the others.
Three of their teammates jogged over—Reil, Yenari, and Dren—all half-armored and relaxed.
"We're moving in five," Reil said. "Crawler's primed. Kael's rerouting terrain scans. Haren's eating dried meat paste like it's gourmet. We good?"
Arron's voice was flat. "No. Stay close to the transport. Don't approach the trees."
Reil raised an eyebrow. "It's just early wildlife. We've seen fox-lights out here."
"No. This is different."
Dren checked his wrist scope. "No readings. Everything's nominal."
Arron's jaw tightened. "That's the problem."
Yenari squinted into the mist. "There. Movement. Just past the bend—"
It stepped forward.
Tall. Wrong. Limbs too long. Eyes too dark. Not glowing—absorbing light.
Lira's stomach dropped. Her hands froze. Something in her brain screamed no—but the sound never made it to her mouth.
Reil took a step forward, hand instinctively moving toward his sidearm. "That's not wildlife."
"Don't move," Arron said.
The thing didn't charge. It didn't roar or snarl. It tilted its head, like a puppeteer learning a new string. The mist clung to its shape—but its body bent inside the vapor, as if space didn't apply.
Dren backed up slowly. "It's not triggering sensors."
"Because it doesn't need to," Arron muttered. "It let us see it."
Then another shape flickered—behind them.
Lira turned, heart pounding. "There's two—no, three—"
"MOVE!" Arron shouted.
But it was too late.
Yenari took a step—just one—and her chest folded inward, like something collapsed inside her without touch. No sound. No scream. She dropped like a stringless puppet.
Reil spun, raising his weapon—
The thing reached him first.
It didn't slash. It entered him—something like shadow and fog folding through bone.
His mouth opened in a silent scream before his body imploded, collapsing to knees, then face-first, unmoving.
"RUN!" Arron barked.
Dren bolted toward the crawler. The remaining creature didn't follow.
It didn't need to.
Arron grabbed Lira's arm, eyes wild. "We're out of time—go! Alert the rest!"
"I can help—"
"You can't!" His voice cracked. "You have to warn them—go!"
He shoved her toward the crawler with strength she hadn't known he had.
She stumbled backward, eyes locked on his. "I'll come back for you—"
"No. You'll just come back," he said, voice low, soft. "That's enough."
---
Lira ran.
The crawler hissed as she climbed in, hands shaking. The alert system blinked—still inactive. She slammed the override, keyed in her code, and smashed her fist into the console.
> [ALERT SENT: HOSTILE ENTITY. AREA LOCKDOWN INITIATED.]
Lights flared across the platform as the auto-locks kicked in. Barricades began rising from their dormant plates. Motion alarms shrieked into life.
She turned back to the door.
He wasn't behind her.
He was running—for Dren.
---
"Arron, stop!" she screamed, even though he couldn't hear her.
He caught Dren mid-stumble, pushed him forward—shoved him toward the open hatch.
"Get inside!" Arron barked.
Dren tried to argue. "You too—"
"Go!"
Dren obeyed.
Lira reached out—hand hovering at the edge of the hatch. Waiting.
Arron turned back, eyes locking with hers. He smiled—tired, broken, real.
> "Please be safe I can't see it, Lira. I can't see another death. And I won't let it be you."
She didn't know what to say.
He took a step forward.
Something stepped out from behind him.
---
It wasn't fast.
It didn't need to be.
The creature wrapped around him, its limbs coiling like liquid. He didn't struggle—not at first. Then it lifted him—slowly, gently—as if showing her what it had taken.
Arron gritted his teeth. Pain shook his frame.
> "Why now?" he whispered, breath catching. "Why always me...?"
Lira screamed his name—but the hatch was closing.
She slammed her fists against the door.
Arron didn't take his eyes off her.
> "I just wanted to ask her…"
> "…just once…"
The thing twisted—and his body bent.
A sound escaped him. Low. Raw.
> "…I'm sorry."
And then he was gone.
The thing turned its head, met Lira's eyes through the transparent viewport—
And smiled.
Not with lips.
With presence.
A slow blink that said: I left you this.
---
The crawler sealed. The alarms echoed.
And Lira collapsed to the floor.
He didn't come back.
And this time, she knew he wouldn't.
The crawler's interior lights flickered as the lockdown sealed.
Lira lay crumpled against the inner hatch, hands bloodied from pounding the sealed door. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps—like she couldn't decide whether to scream or shatter.
Dren sat across from her, back against the wall, staring at nothing.
Neither of them spoke.
Then came the voices.
> "What the hell happened?!"
"Where's Arron?"
"Lira, what did you see?!"
"We got the alert, is the system malfunctioning or—"
Kael. Mira. Teyra. Haren.
The rest of the team had rushed in from the opposite deck.
Kael's face was locked in disbelief. Mira crouched beside Lira. Haren scanned the system logs, lips pressed in a rare silence.
Lira didn't look up.
> "He saved me," she whispered.
Nobody moved.
> "He saved Dren too."
"He told me to send the alert."
"He said—he said he'd come back."
She looked up now—eyes raw, voice frayed.
> "But he knew. From the start. He knew he wouldn't."
Silence.
Teyra placed a shaking hand on her shoulder. "Did… did you see what killed him?"
Lira nodded.
> "It smiled."
---
Kael paced, the heels of his boots striking too loudly against the metal floor.
> "This doesn't make sense. The scans show nothing. Stilllight was stable. Atmosphere clean. There were no predator markers."
"That's the problem," Dren said—voice hollow. "They didn't trip the scans. They didn't move like beasts. They waited. Like they were watching us."
Haren finally spoke, voice quiet and unsteady.
> "I saw something too. Just a flicker. Outside the ridge line when we landed."
"Didn't make a sound. Didn't register heat."
"I thought I imagined it."
Kael turned to him. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Haren shook his head. "Because it looked like us. Just... wrong."
---
Lira stood slowly. Her legs barely held.
> "He warned us."
"He said it felt wrong from the beginning."
Mira touched her arm. "We should rest. Just for an hour. Let the systems do a sweep. We'll recon in force."
"No," Lira said, voice cold now. Steady.
> "We're not resting."
"We're not splitting up."
"We're not pretending this didn't happen."
She turned to the comm panel and opened a blank log.
> "I'm writing his death report. I want every name signed. Every detail remembered."
Kael stepped closer. "We don't know if—"
> "He's dead."
Her voice cracked, just once.
> "And we remember. Or we die forgetting."
The team stood in a broken circle. No one argued.
The silence wasn't peace now.
It was proof.
The end.....
Special story only for reader's
Arron looked through the viewport—at her.
His thoughts were no longer panic. No longer strategy. Just... her.
> I loved you.
Thank you... you made me laugh after they died.
I watched you sketch life into empty places. I watched you stay.
But I never said it—because I was afraid you'd leave if you knew how much you meant.
You were my anchor in silence. My reason to keep building. My reason to stay want was.
His lips moved silently.
> "Thank you."
for saving me from my self for everything.
For existing.
Flashback before die
The first time was during training—she threw a scanner at Haren's head and called it "field calibration." I laughed. Out loud. First time in months. She looked at me like I wasn't broken.
> She asked me once if I liked starlight or moonlight more. I said I didn't know. She said I'd like both if I stopped staring at data and started staring at skies.
> There was a day we got stuck in the bio-lock together—two hours of waiting, and she drew a moustache on my faceplate with her finger and acted like nothing happened.
> And every time I wanted to say something—every time I thought "this is the moment"—
> I didn't.
Because some part of him always believed:
> If I say it out loud, I'll lose her.
And if I lose her—I'll have nothing left.
So he said nothing.
She's the only thing he wants to live for.
Did you feel it?
That moment where everything was fine—until it wasn't?
That's how Zarconis works. It doesn't roar. It watches. Then it takes.
Arron didn't get to say everything.
Lira didn't get to hold on.
And maybe you, reader, didn't get time to brace yourself.
But that's the point.
> Because if you love someone—don't hold it back.
Don't let fear of loss keep you silent.
You never know who are written your story.
Comment. Vote. Stay.
And welcome to the zarcoins.
—M.R. Synn