After the trophy celebrations had dwindled to a quiet hum, the team, still riding the high of their Champions League victory, boarded their sleek private jet. Inside, the atmosphere was one of intimate jubilation. Zayne Carter, still flushed with triumph, raised a toast with Riley Brooks and Leo "Blaze" Martinez, their laughter echoing off the luxurious cabin walls. The clink of glasses and soft murmurs of congratulation filled the air as teammates recounted moments of the match, each anecdote a testament to their grit and determination.
In one corner, Coach Lexa Vaughn offered a rare smile as she observed her players unwinding. Even the usually exuberant Max Carter sat quietly, his eyes distant as he processed the magnitude of their win—and perhaps, a premonition of the unknown waiting ahead. Gradually, the celebratory chatter mellowed. One by one, fatigue overtook the adrenaline, and the champions drifted into a celebratory sleep, their dreams still tinted with victory.
In the dead of night, the hum of the jet's engines was suddenly drowned by a piercing alarm. The cozy buzz of post-victory celebration turned into an atmosphere of sheer panic. The plane shuddered violently, rattling every seat as if it were caught in a tempest. Overhead, red warning lights flashed in rapid succession, and a cacophony of beeps filled the air.
Inside the cabin, chaos erupted. Some players bolted upright from dozing off in celebration, while others clutched at their seats in terror. Maxwell "Max" Carter, his eyes wide with fear, frantically leaned over to his older brother, Zayne. Despite the tumult around him, Zayne remained in a heavy, unresponsive sleep—his fatigue from the long night of celebrations too deep to break instantly. Max's voice trembled as he shook him urgently, "Zayne, wake up! We've got to do something!"
Meanwhile, in a distant air traffic control station, a tense hush had settled over the room. A seasoned controller gripped the microphone, his brow furrowed in alarm as he attempted to reach the flight. "Flight 192, please respond. Flight 192, do you copy?" he repeated, his voice edged with mounting panic. The only response was a disconcerting crackle of static that filled the radio, punctuating the controller's growing dread.
Back on the jet, turbulence turned into a violent descent. The plane's structure groaned under the pressure, and for a heart-stopping moment, time seemed to stretch. The sounds of panicked shouts and hurried movements mixed with the relentless roar of the engines as the aircraft plummeted. Max, still desperately shaking Zayne, could only watch in horror as the world outside the small windows became a blur of darkness and fractured light.
A jolt—so brutal it felt like the very air was tearing apart—sent everyone reeling. Screams erupted from every corner of the cabin. In that heart-stopping moment, the jet slammed into something invisible, a collision with fate that shattered the night's earlier triumph into a nightmare of chaos and uncertainty.
The air station's radio fell silent, save for the controller's trembling voice as he tried again to reestablish contact, but it was too late. The unspeakable reality of the crash had descended upon them all, leaving the world gripped by shock and disbelief.
Hours later—or perhaps days, as time seemed to warp in the chaos—the team began to stir. Slowly, consciousness returned to a disoriented world that bore little resemblance to the familiar. Instead of the muted interiors of a damaged jet, they found themselves lying on an otherworldly terrain. The air was different, tinged with a crispness that was both alien and invigorating. The horizon was awash with hues they had never seen: swirling skies of violet and teal, and landscapes that defied earthly logic with floating landmasses and luminescent vegetation.
Disoriented and wary, Zayne was the first to sit up, blinking against the strange light. His teammates gathered around, murmuring in disbelief as they took in their surroundings. The remnants of the jet lay scattered, its wreckage half-swallowed by the enigmatic soil of this weird terrace.
"Huh? Where are we?" Zayne cracked his neck lightly, feeling sore from sleep. He had drank a bit too much and overslept. Max must have had a hard time taking care of him alone.
A blue light wafted into his eyes and he quickly shut them, it was bright...too bright, even the sun in its brightest wasn't as piercing as this.
Zayne shut his eyes tightly, letting them accumulate to the brightness after ages of being closed.
His eyes was closed, so he felt his way out, surprising he realized that there was almost no wall in the plane, he had to dodge objects that were on the floor.
After a while, Zayne's eyes had accustomed to the light and he was out of the plane, he was stunned by what he saw around him.
He emerged from the twisted remains of the jet into a world that defied every expectation of home. The first thing that caught his eye was the sky—a vast dome painted in surreal shades, dominated by a radiant blue sun that hung low, its light cooling rather than warming the landscape. The usual familiar golden glow of Earth was absent, replaced by a chill luminescence that lent the scene an otherworldly feel.
All around him, the wreckage lay scattered in stark contrast to the alien terrain. Jagged pieces of metal and splintered glass were interwoven with an expanse of ground that shimmered with colors they couldn't name. The earth underfoot was not the soft, fertile soil he knew, but a mosaic of crystalline formations and iridescent moss that pulsed faintly as if alive. Every step he took echoed in this strange silence, broken only by the distant hum of unknown energies.
"Woahh...what is this place?" Zayne heard a familiar voice sound behind him. Slowly, they all started coming out of the wrecked Jet, coming face to face with surprise.
In the distance, through a haze of dust and a soft, eerie glow, their eyes caught sight of something unmistakably human—a solitary house. Far from the wreckage and almost beckoning with its faint, golden light, it was the only sign of habitation in an otherwise barren, surreal landscape. The structure, its outline blurred by the shimmering air, offered a mysterious promise of shelter, yet also deepened the enigma of this place.
The air itself was thick with a cocktail of unfamiliar scents—a blend of crisp ozone and a delicate, floral sweetness that seemed to emanate from the very ground. The horizon was a shifting panorama of rock spires and gentle, rolling hills, their contours softened by the spectral light of the blue sun. Every detail, from the eerie silence to the pulsating, otherworldly colors, whispered that this was not Earth at all, though they dared not think so just yet.
"Where are we?" Maxwell asked.
His teammates shook their head, while Zayne whispered. "Whatever this place is, it isn't home..."
Just then, they noticed that their coach wasn't with them. But very quickly, she started coming out from faraway.
"Whatever this place is...it isn't europe...I can't even be sure it is..." She started speaking quickly.
"Yeah, it definitely isn't europe, no part of Europe has this colour and lighting..." Leo spoke.
Damian spoke too. "It looks like people are living here, what part of the world is this, then?"
"That's it." Lexa said, trembling a little. I am not sure this is... earth?"
Ethan quickly frowned. "Then what is this place?"
"Blue star... that's what they call it."