Khora-Xi – Nightfall
The moment Ishaan appeared, the world hit him like a tidal wave.
He collapsed onto all fours, every joint in his body screaming as if gravity itself had tripled. His arms trembled under the weight. Breathing was like dragging air through tar. His brain spun, not from pain — from disorientation. Like he'd been dropped in a washing machine, spun dry, and dumped into the dark.
It was night, but not an Earth night. The air smelled... fresh but damp, thick with the scent of moss and minerals. The forest around him was alive, but silent. Utterly, terrifyingly silent. Not even a birdcall. Just the soft, rhythmic rustling of leaves overhead.
Black leaves.
They weren't just dark — they were darker than shadows, like negative space had grown on branches. The trees themselves looked almost normal, if a bit too tall, too rigid. The sky overhead was scattered with unfamiliar constellations. A pale moon hung to one side — larger than Earth's — and beside it, a second, smaller shape barely visible to the naked eye. A moonlet.
This is not Earth.
Should've been obvious from the gravity alone. But now it was clear.
Ishaan stayed still, silent, mind racing.
Okay. First things first. Survival. I'm exposed. Forest. Which means predators. I need cover.
He checked his phone. It flickered on, but there was no signal. Obviously. He slipped it back into his backpack and quietly drew a knife from a side pouch, strapping it to his belt.
He tried to rise.
Every movement was effort. Like walking underwater — but heavy. Muscles burned with each motion. Still, he managed to stand. Wobbling. Step by step, he moved forward, silent and deliberate.
Then —
A scream.
Distant. Above.
He froze. Head snapped up. The scream grew louder — shrill, panicked. Something falling.
There. Just a streak across the sky — a blur for less than a second — and then a deep, wet thud echoed through the still forest.
Ishaan's stomach dropped.
Someone fell.
From the air. From nowhere. Like he had.
But higher. Much higher.
The scream stopped abruptly. The forest fell silent again.
If I'd appeared up there... I'd be dead. Instant.
His thoughts raced.
Gravity's stronger. But air feels denser. Terminal velocity probably similar to Earth — maybe lower. Still — falling kilometers? You're paste.
Then a new horror hit him.
What if someone materialized underground?
His face paled.
Bloody hell.
He glanced back toward the impact, then shook his head.
No point going there. He's gone. I'm not a hero. I just need to survive.
He moved the other direction, away from the crater. Each step got easier. Like his body was adjusting. Stronger. Lighter, despite the weight. His hearing felt sharper. Sight clearer. Reflexes tighter. Something inside him was... helping.
He didn't have a name for it — just a vague sense of being... connected.
His thoughts drifted.
Why was I so emotional before? That fear back on Earth... it wasn't normal. I've learned to shut things out. I do shut things out.
But this was different. Like something primal had been clawing at him.
Focus. Sort it later.
Then — a sound.
A low, broken sob. Not far.
He dropped low, crouched into the underbrush. Silent. Careful. He crept forward, then spotted him.
A boy — no older than fourteen — pressed against a tree, knees hugged to his chest. Eyes darting around. His aura shimmered with raw terror.
Ishaan's breath caught.
He's terrified.
He was just about to step forward when the underbrush behind the boy exploded.
A predator lunged. Alien, but unmistakably predatory — low-slung, six-legged, with glassy eyes and a maw of spiraled teeth. Like a cross between a panther and something from a nightmare.
The boy screamed and tried to roll, but the creature struck fast — teeth sank into his neck and shoulder.
Crunch.
The scream twisted into a gurgle.
Bones cracked. Flesh tore.
Ishaan's instincts screamed. He didn't think — he ran.
Heart pounding, every step heavier than the last, he tore through the trees. Thorns scraped at him. Branches clawed.
He didn't stop. Not for minutes.
Finally, breath heaving, legs weak, he stumbled down a slope and tripped.
The ground collapsed.
He tumbled through a layer of vines and dirt, fell five meters, and slammed hard onto mossy stone.
Not dead. Bruised. Winded. But not dead.
He looked around.
The air was still. Cold. Old.
He was inside something — stone walls covered in faint carvings. Broken pillars. Moss-covered glyphs. A ruin. Ancient.
And silent.
He pulled his knife again.
He was alone.
For now.