A new day, like so many others.

  Arthur hunts deep in the woods, tends the rows of vegetables sprouting in rough garden beds.

  In the Void, Arthur and Sarah dance slowly to music from nowhere. Arthur picks up a violin and plays—just off-key enough to be charming.

  Sarah laughs, covering her ears.

  Arthur grins.

  “What are you laughing at? You’re my teacher.”

  She gives him a mock-stern look. They both laugh.

  They make love beneath a remembered sky full of stars—warm, alive—reminding themselves why they fell in love in the first place.

  ---

  Later that day, Arthur drags the carcass of another deer-like creature through the brush.

  “I think I’m going to call these things deer.”

  Sarah’s voice drifts in from the Void.

  “What? Why?”

  “They need a name,” he says. “And since we haven’t seen a deer in several thousand years, I don’t think the deer will mind.”

  “You’re probably right,” she says, smiling. “But if they do, I’m sending them your way.”

  Arthur laughs.

  The sound cuts short.

  A low grunt echoes through the trees. A nearby trunk shivers. The ground trembles beneath his boots.

  The grunting moves away—slow, heavy.

  “What was that?” Sarah whispers.

  Arthur stills, spear ready.

  “Big.”

  A pause.

  “I think we stay close to camp. Just in case.”

  ---

  The next day, the Void becomes a park.

  The soft, rhythmic sound of metal clanking emanates from Sarah as she slowly sways on a swing. Arthur Jr. digs in the sand.

  “Mom,” he says. “Look at my castle.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The sun is warm. Children’s laughter drifts faintly on the breeze.

  Arthur appears beside her, smiling—first at Sarah, then at his son.

  “You could sit with us awhile,” she says.

  Arthur’s gaze lingers on Arthur Jr. Memories surge.

  The swing chains creak softly.

  “The colony dropship arrives tomorrow,” he says quietly.

  “Our pickup’s in three days.”

  He fades from the Void.

  A long silence.

  Then—softly—from the real:

  “I love you.”

  Sarah watches the space where he stood, knowing why he left so quickly.

  It hurts—but she lets Arthur Jr.’s laughter anchor her.

  “I love you too.”

  ---

  Arthur wakes before dawn.

  He packs a small bag and heads for the ridge. Hours pass.

  Perched above the colony, he scans the horizon. He chews a strip of jerky, then bites into a bright, tomato-like fruit.

  The stillness shatters.

  A distant, bone-deep roar—retro-rockets ripping through atmosphere.

  Arthur pulls the thin glass device from his pack and powers it on.

  “Life signs.”

  The display flickers—two faint blips, one stronger.

  Three life forms detected.

  The supply ship descends, kicking up dust as it lands.

  Two figures emerge. Moments later they return, escorting three survivors:

  Byrand—shockingly healthy.

  Mary—missing an arm.

  A third man Arthur doesn’t recognize, unconscious on a stretcher.

  They board. The ship lifts and vanishes into cloud.

  “Only three,” Arthur murmurs. “And Mary made it.”

  Sarah’s voice is quiet.

  “I’m not sure any of them are who they used to be.”

  Arthur nods.

  “Yeah. Whatever it took to survive.”

  A beat.

  “No one survived this place.”

  He packs the scanner away.

  “Two days left. Where to next?”

  Sarah answers gently.

  “Why don’t we go home. Earth.”

  Arthur shoulders his bag and turns toward his cabin—thinking of the things the survivors must have done.

  A deep, wet snort stops him cold.

  The ground trembles.

  Arthur turns.

  The beast towers over him—larger than an elephant. Mud-matted fur. Four unblinking eyes. Claws like hooked scythes. Teeth like short swords, saliva stringing between them.

  It steps closer.

  Arthur tightens his grip on the spear.

  The beast charges.

  Arthur drives the spear into its flank—but the sheer mass tears it from his hands.

  He draws his knife.

  A paw slams him into a tree. Bark explodes outward.

  Arthur staggers up, nearly unconscious. The beast crouches.

  He backs away—bumps another trunk.

  The beast lunges.

  In a single heartbeat, Arthur calculates his options.

  None of them good.

  So he dives forward—straight into its jaws.

  Teeth shear through his leg. Another regrows in seconds.

  The creature crushes him, gumming and thrashing—then swallows him whole.

  Darkness.

  Air burns. Acid scalds his lungs.

  Arthur hacks blindly—stabbing, tearing. Hot blood floods around him. The walls convulse.

  The beast thrashes in agony.

  Thirty brutal minutes later, Arthur rips free through its shredded throat and collapses in the dirt.

  His chest heaves. Vision swimming.

  “You okay?” Sarah asks, voice trembling.

  Arthur stares at the ground—then laughs, raw and breathless.

  “I don’t know. Never been eaten before.”

  Sarah laughs too, relief breaking through.

  “Just think about the stories.”

  Arthur smirks weakly.

  “Who’s gonna believe I was dumb enough to jump into its mouth?”

  She smiles.

  “You could tell the garden plants,” she laughs. “I hear they’re great listeners.”

  ---

  The Void hums with the memory of their old farmhouse.

  Arthur and Sarah lie on the bed, shoes still on, talking about Earth.

  “We’ve never seen Dragon Gorge,” Sarah says.

  Arthur laughs.

  “We watched it form—but yeah. Let’s go see it.”

  A sonic boom cracks the real sky. The sound ripples through the Void.

  Arthur smiles.

  “Looks like our ride’s here.”

  He kisses her—and vanishes.

  ---

  A small transport streaks through the clouds.

  Arthur waits below, wrapped in furs, bag at his side.

  The ramp lowers.

  A man steps out, clipboard in hand.

  “Arthur Hammond?”

  “Yes, sir.” Arthur hands him the spear.

  “This is for you.”

  Arthur boards, slides his ident card into the reader.

  The pilot eyes the weapon.

  “What were you doing out here?”

  Arthur’s voice is calm.

  “Learning how to survive.”

  ---

  Epilogue — The Price of a Planet

  The hum of the gate chain is almost soothing.

  The craft glides through gate after gate—blue electricity licking its hull.

  A voice crackles.

  “Good morning, Mr. Daevos.”

  Silence.

  A man in a dark suit sits behind a spotless desk, eyes fixed on the comm display.

  “Confirmed. Byrand survived.”

  A nod.

  “Yes.”

  A pause.

  “It’s already in motion.”

  Each word lands without inflection.

  “It will be dealt with.”

  The channel goes dark.

  Footsteps echo down a sterile corridor. Heart monitors thrum in quiet rhythm.

  Three beds.

  Byrand.

  Mary.

  An unknown survivor.

  Unconscious. IV lines feeding clear fluid.

  From the hall—

  POP. POP. POP.

  A hiss. An airlock cycles.

  Byrand’s body tumbles into blue fire.

  He spins slowly, frost blooming across his skin like glass.

  His eyes—wide, unblinking—catch one last glint of starlight before the lightning takes him.

  Silence.

  The end.

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