Page 1

One

L eonie stared up at the sky, her breath catching in her throat. It was the kind of dusk that made the world feel hollow—clouds thick and low, painted the color of old bruises, tinged with the last dying embers of sunlight. The horizon burned faint orange, but the rest of the world was sinking into steel grey.

A damp wind slid across the field, curling through the tall grass like cold fingers brushing her skin. She tugged her jacket tighter and gave the leash a soft pull.

“Come on, Alfie. It’s getting late.”

Alfie, her white Maltese Terrier, was nose-deep in a clump of flattened grass, tail wagging lazily. He was always stubborn at the worst moments. She tried again—firmer this time—and he finally relented, trotting up beside her with a soft huff. His ears twitched at the rising wind.

They walked together along the path that edged the field, a line of trees ahead silhouetted like jagged sentinels. The grass rustled louder now, hissing in waves. Leonie glanced up again, a strange unease unfurling in her chest.

There was something wrong with the sky.

The air had gone strange. Thicker. Charged. Her skin prickled with static, as if the world was holding its breath.

And then?—

The heavens cracked open.

A bolt of white light tore across the sky with no warning, no thunderclap—just an explosion of brilliance so bright it burned into her retinas. She stumbled, throwing an arm over her eyes. Alfie barked, frantic, yanking against the leash.

The hum followed.

It wasn’t sound—it was sensation. A low, vibrating pressure that drilled into her bones, into her skull, like her body was being shaken apart from the inside. The leash slipped from her fingers.

“Alfie!” she cried, turning—just in time to see him backing away, tail between his legs, barking at the air.

Then everything twisted .

Reality tore at the seams. The field warped—stretching, bending, spinning in on itself. Her knees buckled. The ground fell away. Her scream died before it could leave her throat.

She was weightless. Untethered.

Her body floated in a sea of blinding white, every atom buzzing. Her senses blurred. Sight bled into sound. Gravity ceased to exist. There was only that terrible hum , and the feeling that something massive and merciless was watching her.

And then?—

Black.

* * *

She awoke to cold.

An aching, nauseating cold that settled in her bones and made her teeth clench.

Her head throbbed. Her mouth was dry. She tried to move, but her limbs felt slow, disconnected. Her cheek was pressed to a coarse, gritty surface—cool and unfamiliar, like damp concrete left too long in the dark.

She forced herself upright with a groan. The motion made her vision blur.

"Alfie?"

The word cracked from her throat, barely more than a whisper.

Silence.

She blinked, trying to see. The light was dim, cast from blue panels that glowed faintly from the corners of a curved ceiling. Metal? She couldn't tell. The room—or chamber—was vast, too smooth and seamless to be man-made.

And she was in a cage .

A cylindrical enclosure, maybe two meters across. Bars smooth and metallic, faintly warm to the touch. There was no lock. No hinges. The floor was seamless with the walls.

Her pulse spiked.

She scrambled to her feet, pressing her hands to the invisible seams. “Hello?!”

No answer.

“HELLO!” she screamed, her voice ricocheting off distant walls she couldn’t see. “IS ANYONE THERE?!”

Nothing but her own echo.

She slammed her fists against the bars. They didn’t rattle. Didn’t move. They weren’t bars at all—just solid, seamless columns of something like metal, humming faintly.

Her breath came faster now, chest tightening.

She was alone.

She was caged.

And Alfie was gone.

“Please,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Please, someone?—”

But the only response was the low, constant thrum beneath her feet, pulsing through the walls. Like a heartbeat.

Or an engine.

Or something alive.

She curled into herself, shaking. Cold. Angry. Terrified.

This wasn’t Earth.

This wasn’t anything she knew.

And something had taken her.