Nate woke up feeling like his body had been crushed under a mountain. Every muscle ached, and a strange heat coursed through his veins, making his skin clammy. He groaned, pulling himself upright as a wave of nausea rolled over him. His throat felt dry, and his head pounded like a drum.
Wrapping himself in a thick blanket, he staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the entrance of his tent. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this sick. Ever since he'd pushed himself to his limits in the cave, it was like his body had been rejecting him, and it was getting worse.
As he stepped outside, the cool air hit his face, offering a momentary reprieve from the feverish heat inside him. He blinked against the sunlight and spotted Madison approaching. She walked with purpose, her gaze flicking toward his tent as if she was looking for him.
Her face lit up when she saw him. "Nate! I was just coming to wake you up."
He gave her a faint smile, his lips barely curling. "Morning…" His voice came out hoarse, barely audible.
Madison's smile faltered as she got closer. Her eyes widened in shock. "Nate, you look awful! What happened to you?"
He waved her off, attempting to downplay it. "It's nothing. Just… a small sickness. I'll be fine."
Madison stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with concern. "This isn't small, Nate. You look like you caught some kind of virus. Are you sure—"
"I'm fine, Madison," Nate interrupted, his tone firmer this time. He didn't want to worry her or anyone else. "Really. Just tired, that's all."
Madison didn't look convinced, but she sighed and decided to drop it for now. "Alright, but Ryder wants to see you. He told me to gather some people and meet him at the back of the camp. I came to grab you."
"Why does Ryder want to see me?" Nate asked, his brows furrowing.
"I don't know," Madison replied. "It's not just you, though. He's calling some specific people. Let's just go."
Nate nodded, tossing the blanket covering him back into his tent. He took a deep breath and shook his body as if trying to shake off the illness. For a moment, Madison thought he might actually be alright. His posture straightened, and he stood tall, his usual confidence returning to his face.
But then she noticed his eyes—glassy and unfocused, with a faint flicker of pain he couldn't hide. Madison knew better. He was pretending to be fine, not wanting anyone to worry about him.
Walking slightly behind him, Madison followed as they made their way to the back of the camp.
When they arrived, Nate was surprised to see a group of familiar faces already gathered. Jason and Axel stood off to the side, their usual smirks plastered on their faces. Bella and Amara were there too, along with a handful of other men Nate didn't recognize.
But what caught his attention most was the young boy sitting beside Ryder. The boy couldn't have been older than twelve, yet there was a sharpness in his gaze, a maturity that seemed far beyond his years. His small frame and quiet demeanor didn't match the intelligence radiating from his eyes.
As Nate and Madison joined the group, Axel leaned toward Jason, his voice low but not low enough to escape Nate's ears. "I knew it," Axel whispered, his lips curling into a sly grin. "They're totally fucking each other."
Jason chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, you're obsessed. Just drop it."
Nate heard them, but he didn't react. He couldn't afford to waste his energy on their childish antics. His focus remained on Ryder and the young boy, who were clearly the center of attention.
Madison, however, shot them a sharp glare, her lips pressing into a thin line. But instead of confronting them, she stayed close to Nate, her eyes flicking between him and the boy as she waited for Ryder to explain why they'd been summoned.
Ryder stepped forward, his expression solemn as he scanned the group. The weight of whatever he was about to say pressed heavily in the air. "Thank you all for coming," he began, his voice firm but calm. "The reason I called you here is because we have an important matter to discuss—one that cannot be delayed any longer."
He turned slightly, motioning toward the young boy sitting beside him. "This is Jack," Ryder said, his tone carrying a hint of respect. "Some of you may not know him, but he's the one who helped us draw the map of the surrounding area."
Nate's eyes widened in surprise. His stance shifted, and he found himself looking at the boy with newfound interest. He'd used the map himself and it was very effective, he heard also heard how it had been instrumental in locating key areas around the camp—but he'd never had the chance to meet the person responsible. Now, seeing Jack, he couldn't believe it. This small, unassuming boy was the one who had done it?
Ryder stepped back, gesturing for Jack to step forward. The boy moved with confidence, his face calm and unreadable. There wasn't a trace of fear in his posture as he stood before the group. He met their curious and skeptical gazes without flinching.
Jack's voice was clear and steady as he began to speak. "We've been here for over a week now," he said, his words carrying a surprising authority. "And most of you are still waiting for rescue. Burning wood every night, hoping someone will see the smoke."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Several people nodded, their faces hopeful. But Jack's next words shattered that hope.
"You need to stop." His voice was firm, unwavering. "No help is coming."
For a moment, silence filled the air. Then, laughter erupted from the group, mocking and dismissive.
One man stepped forward, shaking his head in disbelief. "The kid thinks he knows everything because he drew a map. What do you know about rescue efforts, huh?"
Jack turned to the man, his gaze sharp. "Shut up," he said coldly.
The man's laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by shock. His face reddened with anger, and he opened his mouth to retort. But before he could, another voice cut through the tension.
"Shut up."
This time, the command carried a weight that silenced everyone. The group turned toward the source of the voice, their eyes widening in surprise.
It was Nate.
He wasn't looking at the man who had spoken, nor at the crowd. His gaze was locked on Jack, his expression unreadable. The quiet authority in his tone left no room for argument.
"Explain yourself," Nate said, his voice calm but firm.
Jack turned toward Nate, his young face thoughtful, eyes gleaming with intelligence. "Thank you," Jack began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "Something that confirms we shouldn't be waiting for rescue is because… well, we're not on Earth anymore."
The group behind them exchanged looks of confusion, murmurs rising briefly before Jack continued.
Nate's brow furrowed, but he gestured for Jack to go on. "Explain," he said simply.
Jack nodded, taking a deep breath. "It's not just the creatures or the terrain," he began. "It's the atmosphere itself. Have you noticed how the air feels heavier? The oxygen concentration here is different—slightly higher than Earth's. That's why we can exert ourselves more than usual, but it's also why we feel tired faster. The barometric pressure is different too. It's higher here."
He wasn't wrong, the only people who feel stronger are people who have awakened their ability. The ones that were powerless were weakening day by day.
Nate's eyes lit up as he pieced the information together. "Which would explain why the horizon looks closer than it should," he interjected. "A denser atmosphere would distort light differently. That's also why the sunsets are so vibrant—it's scattering more light across a broader spectrum."
Jack tilted his head, surprised. "Exactly," he said, his voice laced with approval. "And then there's the length of the days and nights. Have you noticed? Daylight lasts almost fifteen hours, but the nights stretch for over ten. That's not consistent with Earth's rotation. We're on a planet with a slower axial spin."
Nate nodded slowly, the gears in his mind turning. "That would also affect the Coriolis force," he added. "It's why the wind patterns here are erratic but consistent in their strength. And the star patterns…"
"Are completely different," Jack finished for him.
The two of them locked eyes, a mutual understanding passing between them. For a moment, it was as if no one else existed.
Behind them, the group shifted uncomfortably. Confusion was etched across every face, their murmurs growing louder as they struggled to follow the conversation.
"Wait, what are you two even talking about?" Jason finally blurted out, his tone edged with frustration. "Barometric pressure? Axial spin? Are you guys making this up?"
Nate turned to the group, his expression softening. "Let me simplify it," he said, his voice steady but firm. "What Jack is saying is that everything here—the air, the skies, even the length of the days—proves we're not on Earth anymore. The sun is different, the stars don't match any constellation we know, and the physics of this place aren't the same as what we grew up with. This is a completely different planet."
The crowd fell silent. Some faces were pale, others filled with disbelief.
"That's impossible," one man muttered, shaking his head. "How can we not be on Earth? We didn't fly to another planet. We crashed here."
Jack stepped forward, his small frame radiating authority. "It doesn't matter how we got here," he said, his tone sharp. "What matters is accepting the truth so we can survive. Denying it won't change reality."
Nate nodded in agreement, his gaze sweeping over the group. "He's right. We need to stop clinging to the idea of rescue and start adapting to where we are. We're not just lost. We're somewhere else entirely."
The silence that followed was deafening. No one dared to speak, their minds struggling to process what they had just heard.
Finally, Nate broke the silence, his voice quiet but resolute. "We're not on Earth anymore." And that was final.
The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing down on everyone. For the first time, the reality of their situation felt undeniable.
Jack stepped forward, his youthful face now carrying the weight of someone far beyond his years. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but his voice was steady as he said, "There's something else you all need to understand."
The camp fell silent. After the revelations from before, no one dared to dismiss him. All eyes turned to him, waiting.
Jack scanned the group, his gaze pausing briefly on each face. Finally, he asked, "Who here crashed with their spouse?"
The question hung in the air, strange and out of place. The murmurs started again, but before they could grow louder, a middle-aged man with thinning hair cautiously raised his hand.
"I did," the man said, his voice uncertain but curious.
Jack nodded, acknowledging him. "And how often," Jack asked, his tone clinical and matter-of-fact, "were you and your wife having sex before the crash?"
The air seemed to leave the camp. Conversations died in an instant, and a stunned silence followed. Shocked faces turned toward Jack, while others gawked at the man who had raised his hand.
"What kind of question is that?" someone whispered, their tone incredulous.
The middle-aged man, however, didn't react with anger or embarrassment. Instead, he studied Jack, his brow furrowed in thought. Something about the boy's demeanor made him believe there was a reason behind the bizarre question.
Clearing his throat, the man finally replied, "Before we got here? Maybe… once every two weeks, give or take." He paused, hesitating for only a moment before continuing. "But since the crash… it's been, uh, at least three times a day."
The crowd erupted.
"What?!"
"You've got to be kidding!"
"Three times a day?"
The man shrugged awkwardly, his ears red but his expression serious. "I don't know how to explain it, but it's like… I can't help myself. Neither can she."
Jack's lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded. Then, turning to the group, he spoke again, his voice clear and unwavering. "What you're experiencing isn't unique. It's the same for everyone here, even if you don't want to admit it. Here, in this place, certain things are heightened—our instincts, our desires, our emotions. Lust, anger, fear… even the things we try to bury deep inside ourselves. They're all magnified."
The group exchanged uneasy glances.
"You're saying this place makes us act on… urges?" Bella asked, her voice cautious.
Jack nodded. "Exactly. It's not just your behavior—it's your biology. There's something about this place that amplifies our primal instincts. It's why you feel more drawn to people, why you feel more aggressive, more afraid, or even more… passionate. The atmosphere here doesn't just affect the environment; it affects us too."
"But why?" Madison asked, her brows knitting together.
Jack looked at her, then at Nate. "I don't know," he admitted. "But we need to understand it. Because if we don't, it's going to tear us apart."
The tension in the air was palpable. No one knew what to say, and the implications of Jack's words settled heavily over the group.
Finally, Nate broke the silence. "So, you're saying this place doesn't just change how we live—it changes who we are."
Jack met his gaze, his expression somber. "Exactly."