The wreckage of the alien ship felt like a tomb. A cold, lifeless void that swallowed every sound. Even my own footsteps felt wrong—too loud, too intrusive, as if the ship itself resented my presence.
I gripped my flashlight tighter, sweeping the dim beam over jagged shards of metal and tangled wires that hung like vines in a decaying forest. The air was stale, heavy with something I couldn't quite place. Each step I took sent a shiver up my spine, but I forced myself to move forward.
I wasn't even sure what I was looking for. A clue, a remnant of something lost—anything to make sense of this chaos. And then… I saw it.
A faint glow, flickering beneath a pile of twisted debris.
My breath hitched. My heart pounded against my ribs as I crouched down, carefully pushing aside the broken metal. Cold air bit at my fingers as they brushed against something smooth. Solid.
I pulled it free, revealing a crystalline artifact no larger than my palm. Its surface shimmered with alien symbols, shifting and rippling as if they were alive. A soft pulse of light emanated from within, sending a gentle warmth through my fingertips.
The sensation was… familiar.
Too familiar.
A lump formed in my throat as memories crashed over me like a tidal wave. The key embedded in Daichi's chest. The light that had swallowed him whole. The moment he sacrificed himself to save us all.
This was the same energy. The same eerie glow.
But something was different.
I frowned, studying the artifact more closely. The symbols etched across its surface weren't quite the same as the ones I had seen before. These were darker, more complex, their shapes jagged and uneven—like something unfinished. Or corrupted.
A shiver ran through me.
I glanced over my shoulder. Hikari was still hunched over the ship's terminal, her sharp eyes scanning endless lines of alien script. Ayase stood near the entrance, her posture tense, her hand resting near her weapon—always ready. And Daichi… Daichi stood on the far end of the wreckage, his expression unreadable as he studied a shattered console.
I hesitated.
A part of me screamed to show them. To tell them what I had found. But something deeper—something instinctual—told me to wait.
I wasn't sure why.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I curled my fingers around the artifact and slipped it into my pocket. The glow disappeared beneath the fabric, its warmth pressing against my skin like a secret I wasn't ready to share.
Just one more mystery.
I exhaled slowly, rising to my feet. "Izumi, status?" Hikari called, not looking up from the terminal.
"Nothing significant," I lied smoothly, brushing the dust off my gloves. "Just more wreckage."
She barely acknowledged my words, too absorbed in her work. Good. I turned away, forcing my expression into something neutral as I rejoined the others.
As if nothing had happened.
The facility felt different when we returned. Heavier. As if the walls themselves carried the weight of our discoveries.
The control room buzzed with quiet tension. Screens glowed in the dim light, displaying incomprehensible alien scripts and energy readings. The hum of machines filled the silence between us, but it did little to ease the unease settling deep in my bones.
"This isn't just some random phenomenon," Hikari muttered, pacing in front of the central monitor. Her sharp eyes flicked between screens, frustration evident in the tight line of her mouth. "It's deliberate. There's intelligence behind it."
She exhaled sharply. "And what's worse… is that we're running out of time."
I barely heard her.
The artifact's weight in my pocket was all I could focus on. Its warmth seeped through the fabric, persistent. Almost… aware.
I clenched my fists under the desk.
"If this artifact was created by the aliens… then how the hell did Project Rebirth get their hands on it?" I wondered, my thoughts spiraling.
"Focus," Ayase's voice cut through the haze. She stood with her arms crossed, her steady gaze sweeping across the room. "Panic won't help us. Hikari, keep digging into the logs. Izumi, analyze the power signature from the ship's core. Daichi…" She turned to him. "Try to piece together the timeline of the crash."
Daichi gave a short nod. "Understood."
I swallowed down the unease bubbling inside me. "Got it," I said. But even I could hear the hesitation in my voice.
Ayase's sharp gaze flicked to me. "Something wrong?"
I forced a small smile. "Just tired."
She studied me for a moment before nodding. "Get some rest when you can. We need everyone at their best."
I nodded, but I knew sleep wasn't an option. Not tonight.
The control room was eerily quiet at night.
The others had gone to their quarters hours ago, but I stayed. Alone. The soft glow of the monitors cast long shadows across the walls, stretching and shifting like ghosts.
The artifact sat in front of me.
I swallowed, reaching out slowly. My fingers brushed against its surface, and a soft pulse of warmth met my skin.
It felt… alive.
I exhaled. "What are you?" I whispered, barely audible.
For a brief moment, I thought I heard something.
A whisper.
Faint. Distant. A voice carried on the wind.
I yanked my hand back, my heart hammering. No. No, that was just my imagination. I was exhausted. That was all.
Shaking my head, I stood. A break—I just needed a break. I turned away, stepping out of the control room, letting the door slide shut behind me.
It was only a few minutes.
But when I came back—
The artifact was gone.
I froze.
The cup of water in my hand nearly slipped from my fingers. My eyes darted across the room, scanning the desk, the floor, every corner of the dimly lit space.
It was just here.
Panic surged in my chest. "No, no, no," I muttered under my breath, setting the cup down with shaking hands. I checked under the desk. Behind the monitors. Near the cables. But the artifact—
It had vanished.
This doesn't make sense.
My breathing quickened as my mind raced. The control room was secure. The others were asleep. No one else had been awake.
And yet…
I swallowed hard. The whispers. The warmth. The way it pulsed, almost like a heartbeat.
Had it moved on its own?
A cold dread settled over me, clawing at the edges of my mind. My fingers clutched the edge of the desk as I whispered, voice barely above a breath—
"What are you trying to tell me?"