The darkness came quickly after the sun disappeared behind the horizon. What little light seeped through the cracks in the ship's walls was swallowed by the gloom, leaving the interior nearly pitch-black.
Zack leaned against the wall of their makeshift shelter, the jagged pole resting within reach. Josh was slumped nearby, his crowbar on his lap, his eyes darting toward every small creak or groan of the ship's broken structure.
"You'd think it'd be quieter at night," Josh muttered, his voice low.
Zack didn't respond immediately. He was staring into the darkness beyond their room, his eyes adjusting in a way that didn't feel… normal.
At first, he thought it was just his imagination. Shapes and outlines emerged in the blackness, faint but clear enough to recognize. The beams of the broken ship, the scattered debris on the floor, even the distant shimmer of glowing moss—all of it was visible to him as if the shadows had lost their hold.
"Josh," Zack said, his voice steady but uncertain.
Josh looked over, his face barely visible in the faint light. "What?"
"Do you… see anything?" Zack asked, his gaze fixed on the dark hallway beyond their shelter.
Josh frowned. "See what? It's pitch black, man."
Zack hesitated. "Nothing. Never mind."
Josh sat up straighter, his curiosity piqued. "Why? What do you see?"
Zack shook his head, gripping the pole tightly. "It's nothing."
Josh narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slightly. "You've been acting weird since we got here. What's going on with you?"
Zack hesitated again before finally asking, "Do you feel… different? Like something's changed since we came through the rift?"
Josh leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Not really. I mean, maybe I'm a little stronger? Like, the crowbar doesn't feel as heavy as it used to. But that's it. Why?"
Zack exhaled slowly, his mind racing. It's just me, he thought. Whatever was happening—his strength, his ability to see in the dark—it wasn't affecting Josh.
"It's nothing," Zack said finally, his tone dismissive. "Forget I said anything."
Josh shrugged, settling back against the wall. "Alright, man. Just… don't get too in your head about this. We've got enough to worry about."
Zack didn't respond. Instead, he focused on the darkness, his vision sharpening with every passing moment. He could see the faint shimmer of Josh's crowbar, the curve of the duffel bag they'd filled with supplies, even the individual grains of dirt on the floor.
The realization sent a chill down his spine. I can't let them know.
Whatever was happening to him was more than just a change—it was an advantage. But it was also something that set him apart, and Zack knew how quickly fear and suspicion could turn allies into enemies.
"For now, we rest," Zack said finally, his voice steady.
Josh nodded, sliding his crowbar closer as he stretched out on the cold floor. "Yeah, good idea. Tomorrow's gonna be hell."
Zack watched as Josh's breathing slowed, his exhaustion finally pulling him into sleep. With one last glance into the darkness, Zack let himself lie down as well, the pole resting close to his side.
As his eyes closed, he couldn't shake the thought of what else might be changing within him—and what it meant for their survival.