Back in the main chamber, Eamon straightened, scanning the room for his companions. An unusual nervousness clouded his face.

  "This isn't good," he muttered, eyes flicking to the consoles. "I just hope they didn't touch anything..."

  His voice rose, echoing sharply through the metallic corridors of the complex:

  "Where are you? Come back here immediately!"

  Eamon's shout carried to the trio, striking them like an alarm. Kiran, instantly on edge, sprang to his feet.

  "I think we'd better go," he said grimly.

  When they returned to Eamon, an unexpected sight awaited them: the central column, once silent and still, was now shrouded in a heavy mist. Strange vapor seeped from its seams, coiling around the cables like a spectral veil.

  "You didn't touch anything, did you?" Eamon demanded, his tone edged with anxiety.

  "If sitting on a chair counts as nothing, then no, we didn't touch a thing," Kiran replied with a forced smile.

  Eamon didn't return the humor. His expression hardened.

  "Very funny... but I found something important."

  A shiver of unease crept down Zena's spine.

  "And?" she pressed, her growing dread seeping into her voice.

  "This place..." Eamon began, weighing his words carefully. "The inscriptions describe it as a research facility. The Esthérians called it... the Temple."

  Kiran, intrigued, crossed his arms.

  "And what exactly did they do here?"

  "That's where it gets complicated," Eamon admitted. "I've only managed to decipher fragments. They speak of studies on the body, on DNA... advanced experiments. But the rest remains unclear."

  While Eamon explained, Adam drifted apart, consumed by thoughts of the chair. His growing obsession dulled the presence of his companions. Drawn as if by an invisible hand, he slipped away without a word, returning to the sealed door.

  This time, he knew something would happen. With a firm gesture, he laid his hand on the cold surface. A subtle vibration rippled through his arm, followed by a deep thud that echoed across the entire complex.

  Eamon stopped mid-sentence, alarmed by the sound.

  "Where's Adam?!" he cried, suddenly realizing he was gone.

  Panic spread through Kiran and Zena as they rushed to search for him.

  Meanwhile, Adam stepped into the room as the massive door slid open, revealing a darkness deeper than anything he had encountered before. The pull inside him was stronger than ever. Ignoring caution, he crossed the threshold. The air grew tense, but nothing happened at first. The chamber was silent, inert—almost dead. Cables lay strewn across the floor, unmoving. The chair at its center loomed in stillness, its presence oppressive.

  Adam advanced slowly, his footsteps echoing against the cold floor. Each step sharpened the nervous tension clawing at him. He circled the chair, studying its peculiar shape. Its sculpted lines seemed tailored to the contours of a humanoid body, its smooth, cold surface radiating something almost organic. As his hand brushed the backrest, a strange familiarity washed over him—as if this object had always been meant for him.

  The others soon discovered what had happened. The once-closed door now gaped open, and Kiran instantly understood Adam had crossed the forbidden threshold. His face twisted in alarm. Without hesitation, he sprinted into the chamber, Zena following close behind, her anxiety mounting with every step. Eamon trailed last, slowed by age but driven by fear and frustration.

  Inside, Kiran spotted Adam seated in the chair. The unnatural stillness of the scene only deepened his urgency. He dashed forward, shouting in desperation:

  "Adam, what the hell are you doing?! Get up—now! It's dangerous!"

  Adam didn't answer. He sat motionless, dazed, trapped in some unseen trance.

  Zena froze, her eyes locked on him. The dread she felt went beyond fear—something primal gripped her. The silence, the oppressive atmosphere, and Adam's stillness combined into a suffocating tension.

  "Stay back, Zena. I'll get him out myself," Kiran snapped, his voice tinged with panic.

  He approached cautiously, every sense on edge, as if expecting the room itself to react. Reaching Adam, he grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently.

  "Get up, damn it! Get out of that damn chair!" he yelled, his voice cracking.

  The instant he pulled harder, a blinding spotlight flared from the ceiling. The chair was bathed in a searing glow as a deep hum filled the room, growing louder, more oppressive. Sparks crackled. Plasma-like arcs buzzed in the air, rattling their bones. The cables strewn across the floor pulsed with rising energy.

  Adrenaline surged through Kiran's veins. The atmosphere pressed in on him, suffocating, vibrating with raw power.

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  "Adam, move! Please!" he screamed, yanking desperately at his friend.

  But Adam didn't stir. His eyes were wide, staring blankly, mind utterly gone.

  The hum rose into a deafening roar. Energy throbbed through the cables, lighting the chamber with a pulsing blue glow. The air seemed ready to collapse. Kiran gave one last desperate pull—

  Too late.

  Metal restraints snapped from the chair, seizing Adam's arms, legs, and throat with mechanical precision. The seat reclined violently, throwing Kiran to the ground. He rolled aside, dazed, and looked up in horror.

  Eamon rushed in at that exact moment, comprehension striking instantly.

  "The mechanism's active—get out, now!" he roared.

  Kiran hesitated, torn, but Zena grabbed his arm. Together they stumbled out just before the door slammed shut with a metallic crash.

  Adam was trapped.

  Strapped into the chair, he thrashed violently, but the restraints held fast. Energy coursed through the chamber, the spotlight pressing down like a weight on his chest.

  Panic consumed him. Eamon's warnings rang in his mind. Why had he sat down? Why had he ignored every instinct? Each second tightened the grip of terror. The chair hadn't simply activated by chance—it had been waiting.

  The humming crescendoed, shaking the ground. The cables writhed, alive with power. Lights flickered. Then, everything froze.

  Silence. Crushing, suffocating silence.

  Adam, breathing raggedly, stared into the void ahead.

  "What have I done..." he whispered, despair flashing in his eyes.

  Meanwhile, in the console chamber, Eamon scoured the holographic data, hands trembling. There had to be a failsafe, some emergency override—but how to find it in minutes, when hours of study hadn't sufficed?

  Zena and Kiran had run to the observation room. Through the massive glass pane, they saw the truth: the chamber was an experimental theater. The sight froze them to the core.

  "My god..." Zena whispered, voice shaking. "This place... it's a laboratory."

  Rage overtook Kiran. He snatched up his excavation tool and slammed it against the glass, over and over.

  "If I break this damn thing, maybe it'll trigger a failsafe!" he shouted, blood smearing his knuckles.

  But the glass didn't budge.

  Inside, Adam's fate unfolded. The hum peaked—and then arcs of searing energy erupted, striking his body in a storm of light. His screams pierced the chamber, ripping through the glass, cutting his friends to the soul.

  "Stop it! Please, stop!" Zena cried, pounding the pane with her palms, tears streaming.

  Kiran collapsed to his knees, broken, fists raw from his futile assault.

  Eamon searched frantically, desperate, but powerless.

  Adam convulsed violently. Foam spilled from his mouth. His screams faltered... then ceased. His body slumped, limp, in the chair.

  The storm ended. Lights softened. Mist hung heavy around him.

  "No... hold on, buddy, please," Kiran whispered, tears falling.

  A sudden flash lit the chamber, then darkness swallowed everything.

  The chair released Adam. His limp body sagged. Kiran sprinted in as the door reopened, catching him, shaking him, begging:

  "Come on... wake up, damn it... don't leave us!"

  Eamon checked.

  "He's alive. Faint pulse... but he's breathing."

  Relief crashed over them, but Adam remained unconscious, face twisted in pain.

  "Help me get him out—now," Eamon ordered.

  Zena called Koros. The transmission crackled, barely holding.

  "Emergency! Adam's critical, we need the ship now!"

  Koros's monotone finally answered:

  "Message received. I'm on my way. Hold on."

  Soon, the ship descended, thrusters whipping sand in violent waves. The ramp dropped, light spilling out. Koros stood waiting, sensors already scanning Adam.

  "Critical condition. Bring him aboard. Immediately."

  They rushed him inside, laying him in the infirmary as Koros activated the systems. Screens lit up, revealing weak vitals and unstable brain activity.

  Kiran sat with fists clenched, Zena stared at the monitors, and Eamon stood grave, mind racing.

  Only the hum of the medical instruments filled the silence.

  The ship tore across the skies, but the same question haunted them all:

  Would Adam survive?

  Light-years away from Oberon V, at the very summit of Hedora, hidden in the shadow of the Orion Arm, in the darkness of a small chamber, the supreme authority of the Consortium was meditating.

  The activation of the Esthérian complex had not gone unnoticed.

  In the upper levels of the Hedora Spire, a Daranian hurried forward, pushing past staff and administrators. His two hearts hammered wildly—not from exertion, but from fear. What he had to report could not be delayed.

  Reaching the highest floor, he stopped, breathless, before a smooth door with black-steel reflections.

  With a trembling hand, he brushed the control panel. The door slid open with a hush, vanishing into the walls.

  A vast chamber, drowned in darkness.

  Only faint red lines pulsed along the edges—like veins in a colossal organism.

  The air was cold. Too calm. Too still.

  A motionless figure stood at the center.

  Then, in the shadows, a red gleam slowly opened.

  Two eyes.

  The Daranian bowed, trembling.

  "Mister President..."

  Silence. Heavy. Absolute.

  At last, a voice answered, calm, sharp as polished steel:

  "You interrupt my meditation. It had better be important."

  The messenger swallowed hard.

  "An energy anomaly detected... on a world classified as strategically irrelevant. Oberon V."

  A faint tremor stirred the air, as though the chamber itself drew a deeper breath.

  "Nature of the anomaly? asked the President."

  "Energy emission... origin unknown. Ancient. Uncatalogued. No correlation with our recorded technologies. It is as if... something has been reactivated."

  Silence again.

  Then, the faintest exhale.

  Not a laugh.

  Not surprise.

  More like a frozen satisfaction ready to devour the world.

  "Very well, murmured the ruler, almost gently. I will take charge."

  He turned his head; his red eyes caught the scientist in the dark like two dead stars.

  "No written report. No chain-of-command transmission. This remains secret. Understood?"

  The Daranian stiffened, bowing lower.

  "Yes, Mister President."

  The master of the Consortium closed his eyes again, as if descending once more into a vast, unknowable inner abyss.

  "You may go."

  The scientist nearly fled, barely able to breathe until the door sealed behind him.

  Silence returned.

  A faint breath stirred the chamber.

  Or had it only been his imagination?

  Awakened...

  An imperceptible smile brushed his lips.