On Earth, an Aurora Borealis was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever witnessed. Northern cold nipped at my cheeks as I stared in wonder at the magical sky. My girlfriend’s mittened hands grasped mine and wonder mixed with love to create a warmth even the frigid air couldn’t permeate.

Here, in a place even colder than that northern winter, it was sad. Pathetic.

I watched as the aurora swirled around the jar like a captured insect. It bashed itself against the glass again and again. Outside the ship’s window was an infinite dark expanse, made darker by our capturing of the Entity.

The Entity pounded against its container. Then, it stilled. It trembled. My hands clasped over my ears in preparation for what would come next. A loud, siren-like screech blasted from the jar as the Entity grew more frantic. It whirled around the jar, and even after so many missions a part of me was terrified that it might escape– and what would happen if it did.

I picked up the jar. We were supposed to use gloves when handling Entities, but there wasn’t any real reason besides it felt like a good protocol to have. Something common sense, something you might regret not doing if something were to happen. But the jars prevented any radiation or other unsavory things from leaking out, so I never wore them. My crewmates thought I was crazy, but I thought they were crazy too. Fair’s fair.

“You know-” A stupid, annoying feminine voice sounded from behind me.

“Yeah, gloves or whatever.” I twisted the jar around in my hand. The Entity suddenly thrust itself against the side and I tightened my grip to keep from dropping it.

“I was going to say you’re not supposed to keep those things in here. We grab them, then put them straight into containment. Dilly dallying just leaves room for mistakes.” Beck crossed her arms. She was the tallest of the women on the ship- at six feet even she was only a couple inches shorter than myself. Mike resented her for being taller and tougher than himself, which only made me like her more. I had a healthy respect for her opinion. Unfortunately for her, respect doesn’t always equal deference. I wasn’t sure there was anything that could make me defer to anyone. It’s hard not to put your own opinion above others when you’re always right.

“You know I treat them with care, B. I like to look, that’s all.”

“I haven’t done anything to stop you, I’m just throwing it out there.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

She shrugged, then opened the panel to her ‘secret’ compartment and pulled out a bottle of scotch. We weren’t supposed to have alcohol on these missions, but we all quietly agreed that was stupid as shit, so Beck had her secret compartment and we all kept it secret in exchange for getting to siphon some of that ambrosia for ourselves.

“Like I said, I haven’t stopped you.” She took a swig straight from the bottle. It might’ve been impressive, even hot, if it wasn’t for the fact a week ago Mike had tried to do something similar, then gagged and spit it back into the bottle. I cringed, but decided it was better not to say anything.

“I’ll put it away now, this one’s annoying.” I held the jar up and jostled it around. The Entity screeched loudly enough the jar began to tremble. She flinched and covered her ears.

“Christ of the Cosmos, don’t do that Wreak!”

I shrugged her off and opened the Container, a translucent plastic box meant both for containing Entities and observing them. I’m sure the engineers did their best, but it would be worthless if an Entity actually escaped their jar and everyone knows it. It isn’t worth talking about since Entities have to be contained and complaining about the Container won’t make the scientific breakthrough of capturing Entities come any faster. I lock it, then sit on the couch. The thumping sound of the Borealis gets muffled by the Container, but not silenced entirely.

“Well, I’m heading to bed.” I stretch my arms above my head.

“Suit yourself.” Beck takes another swig of her spittle-ridden scotch.

Even as I walk to my room, I hear the sound of the Entity trying to escape. Futilely, we can only hope.

The hallway lights flickered like they were trying their best to set the mood but failing miserably. I trudged toward my room, only to hear footsteps behind me. Beck again. Because of course sleep was too easy.

She cleared her throat. “You know, Wreak, one of these days that thing is going to crack open and fry your brain.”

I turned around and leaned against my door. “My brain is already fried. You are simply witnessing the aftermath.”

Beck pointed a finger at me. “No, I mean truly fried. Crispy. Served on a plate.”

“Wonderful. I have always wanted to be a breakfast special.”

She stared at me for a moment, clearly debating whether to argue or go find more regrettable substances to drink. “Seriously though. You keep poking that thing and one day it will poke back.”

“Why would you assume I poke it,” I asked. “Maybe it pokes itself.”

She blinked. “Do you hear yourself.”

“Sadly yes. It is a curse.”

Before she could respond, a dull boom echoed through the hallway. Not an explosion. More like someone hitting the ship with a giant cosmic mallet. We both froze.

Beck whispered, “That better not be your little guest.”

“It is not my fault the universe insists on being dramatic,” I said.

We marched back toward the observation room. The jar sat calmly in the Container, glowing faintly like it was pretending to be innocent. Beck glared at it.

“I do not trust that thing,” she said.

“You do not trust anything,” I replied.

“That is because I have common sense,” she shot back.

“Common sense is simply fear with better marketing.”

She rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might sprain something. “Fine. Stay here with your mistake in a jar. I am going to sleep.”

“You say that as if sleep will stop the universe from trying to kill us.”

“It will not,” she said. “But at least I will be unconscious when it tries.”

She walked out, leaving me alone with the soft thumping of the Entity in the Container and the quiet hum of a ship pretending nothing was wrong.

I sighed and sat down again.

“You and me,” I murmured to the jar, “let us try not to ruin the night.”

The Entity tapped once against the glass, as if answering.

I chose to interpret that as agreement, for my sanity’s sake.

The hum of the ship was steady, but beneath it I swore I could hear something else—like a faint rhythm, a pulse that didn’t belong to the engines. I leaned closer to the Container, narrowing my eyes at the glow. The Entity’s light wasn’t static anymore; it shimmered in waves, almost like it was breathing. My stomach tightened. Breathing meant life, and life meant intent.

I tapped the side of the Container with my knuckle. “You’re not supposed to be clever,” I muttered. “You’re supposed to be a phenomenon, not a personality.”

The glow pulsed faster, as if mocking me.

I stood, pacing the room. Beck’s words gnawed at me—one day it will poke back. She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either. The Entities weren’t just dangerous; they were… communicative. Every screech, every pulse, every tap against the glass felt like language. And if it was language, then maybe—just maybe—we were the ones too primitive to understand it.

The thought chilled me more than the void outside the ship. Because if the Entity was speaking, then tonight it had chosen me as its audience.

Sleep never came. I lay in my bunk staring at the ceiling, listening to the ship’s hum, waiting for the Entity’s rhythm to fade. It didn’t. The pulse grew louder, not in sound but in presence, like it was inside my head rather than outside the jar.

I sat up, rubbed my temples, and muttered, “You’re supposed to be contained.”

The lights flickered again. This time, they didn’t stop. A low vibration rattled through the walls, and I knew instantly it wasn’t the engines. Beck would have stormed in by now if it were mechanical. This was something else.

I stumbled back to the observation room. The Container glowed brighter than before, the Entity’s light spilling across the floor like liquid. It wasn’t just pulsing now—it was forming patterns. Spirals. Lines. Shapes that looked almost… written.

I froze. My breath caught. “Language,” I whispered.

The Entity tapped against the glass, once, twice, three times. The spirals shifted, rearranging themselves into something that resembled a symbol I couldn’t recognize but felt like I should. My chest tightened. It wasn’t random. It was deliberate.

Behind me, the door hissed open. Beck’s voice was sharp, half-asleep but alert. “Wreak, what the hell did you do?”

I didn’t turn. “I didn’t do anything. It’s… talking.”

She stepped closer, her scotch-breath cutting through the sterile air. “Talking? That’s not talking. That’s a warning.”

The Entity pulsed again, brighter, faster. The ship groaned as if something massive pressed against its hull. Beck grabbed my arm. “We need to call Command.”

I shook my head. “No. If we tell them, they’ll order us to eject it. And if this is communication—if this is first contact—we’ll lose it forever.”

Her grip tightened. “Or we’ll lose ourselves.”

The Entity flared, and for a moment the room was drenched in blinding light. When it dimmed, the spirals had rearranged into something unmistakable: a map.

And the map was pointing somewhere.

The map burned in my mind long after the glow faded. I couldn’t shake it. Coordinates, pathways, spirals—it was too deliberate to ignore. Beck had stormed off muttering about Command, but I stayed, staring at the faint afterimage like it might etch itself deeper if I just looked hard enough.

The ship creaked again. Not from stress, not from engines. From outside. Something pressed against us, unseen. I swallowed hard. “You’re pointing somewhere,” I whispered to the jar. “But where?”

The Entity pulsed once, slow and steady, like a heartbeat. Then twice, faster. Then three times in rapid succession. My console flickered to life without me touching it. The navigation screen shifted, lines of code rewriting themselves. A new set of coordinates appeared—coordinates not in our mission logs.

I froze. “That’s impossible.”

The Entity tapped against the glass, louder this time, as if demanding I acknowledge it.

The door hissed open again. Beck stood there, hair disheveled, eyes sharp. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” I said, though the console betrayed me with its glowing coordinates.

She stepped closer, jaw tight. “That thing is hijacking our systems.”

“Or showing us something we’re meant to see.”

Her glare could have cut steel. “You’re insane if you think following alien breadcrumbs is a good idea.”

The ship groaned again, deeper this time, like the void itself was leaning in. The Entity’s glow intensified, casting Beck’s face in stark shadows.

I whispered, almost to myself, “What if this is the first step? What if it’s not a trap, but an invitation?”

Beck shook her head. “Or it’s the last step before we’re dead.”

The coordinates blinked on the screen, waiting. The Entity tapped once more, patient but insistent.

And I realised, with a chill running down my spine, that the choice wasn’t ours anymore.

The coordinates blinked on the console like a heartbeat, steady and insistent. I wanted to look away, but the glow had a gravity of its own. Beck stood rigid beside me, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

“We’re not following that,” she said flatly.

“Then explain why it’s in our system,” I countered. “Entities don’t just hijack navigation for fun. This is a message.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Or a trap.”

The ship groaned again, deeper this time, as if the void itself was pressing against us. The lights dimmed, then surged back to life. I felt the hum of the engines shift—subtle, but wrong.

Mike stumbled into the room, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes. “What the hell is going on? I thought we weren’t supposed to mess with the jar.”

Beck jabbed a finger at the console. “Ask your genius friend. The Entity decided to rewrite our flight plan.”

Mike blinked at the coordinates, then at me. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” I muttered.

The Entity pulsed again, brighter, casting the room in eerie light. The map reappeared, overlaying the console screen. This time, the spirals converged on a single point—a star system I didn’t recognize.

Mike whistled low. “That’s way off our route.”

Beck’s voice was sharp. “Exactly. We’re not going.”

But even as she said it, the ship shuddered. The autopilot flickered, then locked onto the new coordinates. I tried to override it, fingers flying across the console, but the system refused.

“It’s not asking,” I said quietly. “It’s taking us.”

Beck swore under her breath. Mike backed away from the console like it might bite him.

The Entity tapped once against the glass, slow and deliberate.

And I realized, with a chill that sank deep into my bones, that we weren’t just carrying the Entity anymore. We were following it.

The stars outside the viewport shifted as the ship obeyed the new course. I hadn’t touched the controls, yet the autopilot was locked, unyielding. Beck paced like a caged animal, muttering curses under her breath. Mike sat stiffly in the corner, eyes darting between me and the glowing jar.

“This is madness,” Beck snapped. “We’re letting a thing in a jar steer us into the abyss.”

I leaned against the console, watching the coordinates tick down. “We’re not letting it. It’s already decided.”

Mike rubbed his temples. “Command is going to fry us alive when they find out.”

“Assuming we live long enough for Command to find out,” Beck shot back.

The Entity pulsed again, brighter, casting the room in shifting shadows. The spirals on the console rearranged themselves into something new—an image that looked disturbingly like a doorway.

I swallowed hard. “It’s leading us somewhere specific.”

Beck slammed her fist against the wall. “And what happens when we get there? You think it’s going to thank us? Invite us in for tea?”

The ship shuddered, a deep vibration that rattled the floor beneath our boots. Outside, the stars seemed to bend, warping into strange arcs. Space itself looked wrong, like we were sliding into a place that didn’t want us.

Mike whispered, “That’s not normal.”

The Entity tapped once against the glass, slow and deliberate. The spirals shifted again, forming a symbol that looked eerily like an open gate.

I felt my chest tighten. “It’s not just a map. It’s a destination.”

Beck’s voice was low, almost a growl. “And when we arrive, we’ll find out if it’s salvation… or a grave.”

The ship groaned louder, and the stars outside twisted into a tunnel of light. The Entity’s glow flared, filling the room with blinding brilliance.

We were no longer traveling through space. We were being pulled somewhere else entirely.

The tunnel of warped light collapsed with a soundless snap, and suddenly the stars were gone. In their place hung a vast, black sphere—so immense it dwarfed our ship, so perfectly smooth it seemed unnatural. It didn’t reflect light, it swallowed it, a hole carved into existence itself.

Beck gripped the console, knuckles white. “What the hell is that?”

Mike whispered, “It looks… manufactured.”

The Entity pulsed inside its jar, brighter than ever, its glow spilling across the room. The spirals on the console shifted again, forming a symbol that matched the sphere outside. A doorway. An invitation.

I swallowed hard. “It brought us here.”

Beck’s voice was sharp, trembling beneath her anger. “And now what? We knock?”

The ship shuddered, engines whining as if straining against invisible gravity. The autopilot locked again, pulling us closer to the sphere. The black surface rippled faintly, like water disturbed by a stone.

Mike backed away from the viewport. “We’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t mapped. This isn’t anything.”

The Entity tapped once against the glass, slow and deliberate. The sphere rippled again, wider this time, revealing a faint glow deep within.

I felt my chest tighten. “It’s opening.”

Beck turned to me, eyes blazing. “If we cross that threshold, Wreak, we may never come back.”

The ship groaned louder, the sphere’s glow intensifying. The Entity pulsed in rhythm, urging us forward.

And I realized, with a chill that sank deeper than fear, that we weren’t just witnesses anymore. We were participants.

The sphere swallowed us whole. One moment, the viewport showed the endless void; the next, only blackness. The ship’s lights flickered, then steadied, casting pale reflections against walls that weren’t walls at all. It felt like we were drifting inside a hollowed-out night.

Mike gripped the armrest, knuckles white. “Are we… inside it?”

Beck’s voice was low, taut with fear. “Inside or trapped. Same difference.”

The Entity pulsed in its jar, brighter than ever, its glow cutting through the dark like a beacon. The spirals on the console rearranged themselves again, forming shapes that looked like corridors. Pathways.

I leaned closer. “It’s guiding us.”

Beck snapped, “Guiding us where? To our graves?”

The ship lurched forward, engines silent, as if something unseen carried us deeper. Outside, faint lights appeared—pinpricks scattered across the black interior, forming constellations that shifted and rearranged themselves into patterns. They weren’t stars. They were… structures.

Mike whispered, “It’s a city.”

The lights resolved into towers, bridges, vast constructs suspended in the void. They glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with the Entity. The resemblance was undeniable: the same spirals, the same symbols.

Beck’s voice cracked. “This isn’t natural. This is built.”

The Entity tapped against the glass, slow and deliberate. The towers outside pulsed in response, as if answering.

I felt my chest tighten. “We’re not the first ones here.”

The ship drifted closer to the glowing structures, and for the first time since we’d captured the Entity, I realized we weren’t holding it prisoner.

We were its guests.

The ship drifted between the towers, silent as a shadow. The structures loomed impossibly tall, their surfaces etched with spirals that pulsed in rhythm with the Entity. It was like flying through a heartbeat, each pulse echoing in my chest.

Mike pressed his face to the viewport, whispering, “It’s alive. The whole place is alive.”

Beck shook her head, though her voice trembled. “Alive or dead, it doesn’t matter. We shouldn’t be here.”

The Entity tapped against the glass, slow and deliberate. The towers responded, their lights shifting to form a path. A corridor of glowing bridges stretched ahead, guiding us deeper into the city.

I leaned forward, unable to look away. “It wants us to follow.”

Beck grabbed my arm, her grip iron. “And if we do, we’re finished.”

But the ship didn’t wait for our decision. The autopilot locked again, engines humming as we slid along the glowing path. The towers pulsed brighter, their spirals rearranging into symbols that felt like words.

Mike swallowed hard. “It’s talking to us.”

The Entity flared, its glow filling the cabin. For a moment, I thought I saw shapes in the light—figures, tall and indistinct, watching from the edges of the city. My breath caught.

“We’re not alone,” I murmured.

Beck’s voice was sharp, but I heard the fear beneath it. “Then pray they’re friendly.”

The towers pulsed once more, and the path ahead opened into a vast chamber. At its center stood a monolith, glowing with the same spirals as the Entity.

And I realized, with a chill that sank deep into my bones, that the jar was no longer the Entity’s prison.

It was its key.

The chamber swallowed us in silence. The monolith towered at the center, its spirals glowing faintly, pulsing in rhythm with the Entity inside the jar. It was impossible not to feel the connection—the same cadence, the same heartbeat.

Mike whispered, “It’s calling to it.”

Beck’s jaw tightened. “Then we keep them apart.”

But the ship drifted forward, unbidden, as if the monolith itself exerted gravity. The closer we came, the brighter the spirals glowed. My chest tightened with every pulse, a pressure building behind my eyes.

I glanced at the jar. The Entity trembled, its glow intensifying until the entire cabin was drenched in light. For a moment, I thought I saw shapes moving across the monolith’s surface—figures etched in spirals, shifting like they were alive.

Beck grabbed my arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I shook my head, though fear gnawed at me. “We can’t. It’s not letting us.”

The console flickered, symbols rearranging into something new. A message. Not coordinates this time, but a command.

Mike leaned closer, voice shaking. “It wants us to open the jar.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Beck’s face hardened, her hand already reaching for the emergency lock. “Over my dead body.”

The Entity pulsed violently, the monolith answering in kind. The chamber shook, the towers outside flaring like a chorus.

And I realised, with a chill that sank deeper than fear, that the choice was no longer about survival.

It was about obedience.

The chamber vibrated with a low hum, as if the monolith itself had a heartbeat. The spirals across its surface shifted, folding into shapes that resembled hands reaching outward. The Entity inside the jar trembled violently, its glow syncing perfectly with the monolith’s rhythm.

Mike backed away, his voice cracking. “It’s not just calling—it’s demanding.”

Beck’s eyes blazed with defiance. “Then we refuse. We eject the jar, cut ties, and get the hell out.”

I shook my head, though fear gnawed at me. “You don’t understand. The ship won’t let us. The autopilot is locked, the systems are hijacked. We’re not steering anymore.”

The console flickered, symbols rearranging into something unmistakable: an open lock. A command.

Beck slammed her fist against the wall. “Over my dead body.”

The Entity pulsed violently, the monolith answering in kind. The chamber shook, towers outside flaring like a chorus. The pressure in the air grew unbearable, pressing against my skull. I staggered, clutching the jar.

Mike whispered, “If we don’t open it, maybe it’ll tear the ship apart.”

Beck snarled, “Or if we do, it’ll tear us apart.”

The spirals on the monolith shifted again, forming a symbol that looked eerily like our ship. Then, with a blinding flare, the symbol split open, revealing a smaller spiral inside.

I realised, with a chill that sank deeper than fear, that the Entity wasn’t asking to be freed.

It was asking to be returned.

The chamber’s hum grew louder, vibrating through the ship’s hull until it felt like the air itself was alive. The monolith pulsed in perfect rhythm with the Entity, each flare of light pressing harder against our senses. My grip tightened on the jar, sweat slicking my palms.

Beck stood rigid, her voice sharp as a blade. “We open that thing, we’re done. Whatever’s inside doesn’t belong with us.”

Mike’s eyes darted between the jar and the monolith, panic etched across his face. “And if we don’t? Look at the ship—it’s tearing itself apart just to force us closer. We’ll be crushed before we even decide.”

The console flickered again, symbols rearranging into a spiral that split open like a lock. The meaning was undeniable. The Entity wasn’t asking anymore. It was commanding.

I swallowed hard, my chest tight. “It’s not a prisoner. It’s a key. And the monolith is the lock.”

Beck’s glare could have cut steel. “Then let it stay locked.”

The chamber shook violently, towers outside flaring in unison. The jar trembled in my hands, the Entity’s glow so bright it felt like it was burning through the glass.

Mike whispered, “If we resist, maybe it kills us. If we obey… maybe it shows us why.”

The monolith pulsed once more, and the spirals shifted into a final symbol: a doorway opening wide.

And I realized, with a chill that sank deeper than fear, that the next move would decide not just our fate—but the fate of whatever waited beyond that door.

The chamber’s hum reached a fever pitch, rattling through the ship until it felt like the walls themselves might split apart. The monolith pulsed in blinding rhythm, each flare demanding obedience. My hands shook as I held the jar, the Entity’s glow burning so bright it seemed to melt through the glass.

Beck lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t you dare.” Her voice was raw, desperate, but beneath it was fear—not just of the Entity, but of what would happen if we resisted.

Mike stood frozen, sweat dripping down his temple. “If we don’t… it’ll kill us. Look at the ship. It’s already tearing itself apart.”

The console flickered again, symbols rearranging into a spiral that split open like a lock. The meaning was undeniable. The Entity wasn’t asking anymore. It was commanding.

I swallowed hard, my chest tight. “It’s not a prisoner. It’s a key. And the monolith is the lock.”

Beck’s grip faltered, her eyes wide with fury and terror. “Then let it stay locked.”

But the chamber shook violently, towers outside flaring in unison. The jar trembled in my hands, the Entity’s glow so intense it felt alive, pressing against me like a heartbeat.

Mike whispered, “Do it.”

And before Beck could stop me, I twisted the seal.

The jar hissed open.

Light exploded outward, flooding the chamber, the ship, the void beyond. The Entity surged free, a storm of spirals and color, racing toward the monolith. The towers pulsed in response, the entire city awakening in a chorus of light.

The monolith split open, revealing a vast doorway of pure radiance.

And I realised, with a chill that sank deeper than fear, that we hadn’t freed the Entity.

We had unleashed the gate.

The light consumed everything. For a moment, there was no ship, no chamber, no crew—only radiance stretching in every direction. My body felt weightless, untethered, as though the universe itself had dissolved around us.

Then, slowly, the brilliance receded, revealing a vast expanse beyond the monolith’s doorway. It wasn’t space as we knew it. The sky shimmered with colors that bent and twisted, hues no human eye was meant to see. Structures floated in the distance, immense and alien, suspended like islands in a sea of light.

Mike gasped, clutching the console. “We’re… somewhere else.”

Beck’s voice was hoarse, trembling despite her defiance. “No. We’re not anywhere. This isn’t real.”

But the Entity surged forward, no longer confined, spiraling toward the horizon. The towers pulsed in response, their symbols rearranging into patterns that stretched across the sky. It was language, vast and cosmic, written on the fabric of this place.

I felt my chest tighten. “It’s not just a gate. It’s a passage. A bridge to… whatever this is.”

The ship drifted forward, carried by currents we couldn’t see. The hum of the engines was gone, replaced by a resonance that seemed to come from the world itself.

Beck gripped my arm, her eyes wide. “We need to turn back.”

But there was no back. The doorway had vanished, sealed behind us.

The Entity pulsed once more, brighter than ever, and the structures ahead flared in response.

And I realized, with a chill that sank deeper than fear, that we hadn’t crossed into another place.

We had crossed into another order of existence.

The ship drifted forward, carried by currents we couldn’t see. The sky shimmered with impossible colors, bending and twisting like liquid light. Structures loomed in the distance—vast bridges, towers, and spires suspended in the glowing expanse, each pulsing in rhythm with the Entity.

Mike pressed his face to the viewport, awe and terror mingling in his voice. “It’s… beautiful. Terrifying, but beautiful.”

Beck shook her head, her voice sharp. “Don’t let it seduce you. This isn’t beauty—it’s a trap dressed up as wonder.”

The Entity spiraled ahead of us, free now, weaving through the glowing constructs like it belonged here. The towers responded, their symbols rearranging into vast patterns across the sky. It was language, unmistakable, written on the fabric of this place.

I leaned closer to the console, my chest tight. “It’s speaking. Not just to us—to the whole city.”

The resonance grew stronger, pressing against my skull, filling my thoughts with whispers that weren’t words but carried meaning. I staggered back, clutching my head.

Mike’s voice trembled. “What did it say?”

I swallowed hard. “It said… welcome.”

Beck’s glare cut through the glow. “Or it said surrender.”

The ship drifted closer to the largest structure—a colossal spire that pulsed brighter than the rest, its spirals forming a symbol that matched the Entity itself.

And I realized, with a chill that sank deeper than fear, that this wasn’t just a city.

It was a homecoming.

The spire loomed above us, impossibly vast, its spirals glowing with a rhythm that seemed to seep into our bones. As the ship drifted closer, the resonance shifted from a hum into something sharper—whispers threading through our minds. They weren’t words in any language we knew, but impressions, fragments of meaning pressing against thought itself.

I staggered, clutching the console, as a single idea crystallized from the noise: we were expected.

Mike’s face was pale, his eyes wide. “It knows us. It’s been waiting.”

Beck’s voice cut through the air, raw and furious. “No. This is manipulation. It’s twisting our thoughts, making us believe we belong here.”

But the whispers grew louder, weaving into a chorus that filled the chamber. Images flickered across the spire’s surface—shadows of tall figures, indistinct yet purposeful, etched in spirals that shifted like living script. They moved with deliberate grace, as though performing a ritual.

The Entity surged ahead, spiraling toward the spire. The towers around us pulsed in response, their symbols rearranging into vast patterns across the sky. It was language, unmistakable, written on the fabric of this place.

Mike pressed his hands to his ears, though the sound was inside us, not outside. “It’s speaking. It’s telling us… to follow.”

Beck’s glare was sharp, but I saw the fear beneath it. “And if we do, we’re finished.”

The ship lurched forward, carried by currents we couldn’t resist. The spire’s glow intensified, its spirals folding into a single symbol: a doorway opening wide.

And in that moment, I understood—we weren’t simply witnessing something extraordinary. We were being summoned.

The doorway yawned open, spilling radiance across the chamber. As the ship drifted forward, the light swallowed us whole, dissolving the walls, the consoles, even the sense of metal beneath our feet. For a heartbeat, I thought we had ceased to exist.

Then the brilliance thinned, revealing a vast expanse unlike anything we had ever known. The sky shimmered with colors that bent and folded, hues that seemed alive, shifting as though they were watching us. Floating structures stretched across the horizon—bridges of light, towers of spirals, colossal forms suspended in a sea that was neither air nor space.

Mike’s voice was hushed, reverent. “It’s… another world.”

Beck’s jaw tightened, her defiance cracking under the weight of awe. “No. It’s something worse. This isn’t a world—it’s a design.”

The Entity spiraled ahead, weaving through the glowing constructs with effortless grace. The towers pulsed in response, their symbols rearranging into vast patterns that stretched across the sky. It was language, unmistakable.

I felt the resonance press against my thoughts, not as whispers this time, but as clarity. A single impression formed, undeniable: we had crossed into the heart of its domain.

The spire loomed in the distance, brighter than all the rest, its spirals folding into a symbol that matched the Entity itself. The meaning was clear.

This wasn’t just a passage. It was a return.

And we weren’t explorers anymore.

We were intruders.

The spire loomed closer, its spirals blazing with a brilliance that dwarfed the towers around it. The ship no longer drifted—it was pulled, drawn by currents that felt less like gravity and more like intent. Every pulse of light pressed against us, not as whispers now, but as commands.

Mike’s voice was hushed, trembling. “It wants us inside.”

Beck’s jaw clenched, her defiance fraying. “And if we go in, we may never come out.”

The Entity spiraled ahead, weaving through the glowing constructs with effortless grace. The towers responded, their symbols rearranging into vast patterns that stretched across the sky. It was language, unmistakable, and its meaning was clear: the return is complete.

I felt the resonance surge through me, filling my thoughts with images—shadows of tall figures, indistinct yet purposeful, standing within the spire. They weren’t strangers. They were waiting.

The ship slowed as we reached the base of the spire. A vast opening yawned before us, its spirals folding into a doorway of pure radiance. The Entity hovered at its threshold, pulsing in rhythm with the structure, as if it had finally come home.

Beck’s voice cracked, raw with fear. “This is it. Whatever’s inside… this is the endgame.”

Mike swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the doorway. “Or the beginning of something we can’t even comprehend.”

The resonance grew unbearable, pressing against my chest, my skull, my very sense of self. And it came upon me, with a clarity that cut deeper than dread, that the spire wasn’t just summoning the Entity.

It was summoning us.

The ship crossed the threshold, swallowed by the doorway of radiance. Inside, the chamber was vast and endless, its walls alive with spirals that shifted like living script. The resonance was deafening now, not in sound but in thought, pressing against us until it felt like our minds were no longer our own.

The Entity hovered at the center, pulsing brighter than ever. The spirals across the chamber responded in perfect rhythm, folding into shapes that resembled figures—tall, indistinct, yet unmistakably sentient. They stood in a circle around the Entity, their forms woven from light and shadow.

Mike’s voice cracked. “They’re… waiting for us.”

Beck’s fists clenched, her defiance trembling. “No. They’re waiting for it. We’re just collateral.”

The figures shifted, their spirals rearranging into a single symbol: a doorway splitting open. The meaning was undeniable. The Entity was not a prisoner, not a weapon. It was a key. And the spire was the lock.

The resonance surged, filling my thoughts with clarity. Images flashed—worlds collapsing, gates opening, civilizations bowing before the same spirals. This wasn’t just a homecoming. It was a cycle. A ritual repeated across countless realms.

I staggered, clutching the console. “It’s not just returning. It’s unlocking something bigger. Something that’s been waiting.”

The Entity pulsed violently, the chamber trembling as the figures raised their arms of light. The spirals converged, forming a vast symbol that stretched across the chamber floor.

Mike whispered, “If we let it finish… we might unleash whatever destroyed those worlds.”

Beck’s voice was sharp, desperate. “Then stop it. Smash the jar, kill it, do something!”

But the jar was already empty. The Entity was free.

The chamber flared, the spirals folding into a final command. The figures turned toward us, their light piercing, their intent undeniable.

And I realised, with a clarity that left no room for doubt, that the confrontation was not between us and the Entity.

It was between us and the gate itself.

The chamber quaked as the spirals across the spire flared brighter, their rhythm pounding like a drumbeat inside our skulls. The Entity hovered at the center, its glow swelling until it seemed to eclipse everything else. The figures of light surrounding it raised their arms higher, their forms bending into shapes that resembled guardians—or executioners.

Mike clutched the console, his voice breaking. “It’s preparing something. A release, a… transformation.”

Beck’s defiance cracked into desperation. “Then we stop it. We fight back, or we die here.”

But the ship itself betrayed us. The controls locked, the engines roared without command, and the hull groaned as if it were part of the ritual. Every system pulsed in rhythm with the spire, no longer ours to control.

The resonance pressed harder, filling my mind with visions: worlds collapsing into spirals, civilizations kneeling before the same light, gates opening one after another. It wasn’t just history—it was prophecy. We were next.

I staggered, clutching my head. “It’s not just unlocking the spire. It’s unlocking us.”

The figures of light turned in unison, their gaze piercing, their intent undeniable. The spirals beneath our feet flared into a vast symbol, one that split open like a wound. The Entity pulsed violently, and the chamber shook as though the gate itself was straining to break free.

Mike whispered, trembling. “If it finishes… there won’t be a way back.”

Beck’s voice was sharp, ragged. “Then we make our choice now. Resist—or surrender.”

The spirals surged, the chamber trembling on the edge of collapse.

And I realised, with a clarity that left no room for denial, that the next moment would decide everything.

The chamber shook as the spirals converged, folding into a single vast symbol that stretched across the floor. The Entity hovered at its center, pulsing brighter than ever, its glow entwined with the figures of light surrounding it. The resonance pressed against us until it felt like our very identities were being peeled away, stripped down to raw thought.

Mike collapsed to his knees, clutching his head. “It’s inside me… it’s showing me everything.”

Beck staggered, her defiance breaking into terror. “Fight it! Don’t let it take you!”

But the truth was undeniable. The gate wasn’t asking for obedience anymore. It was choosing.

The spirals flared, and the figures of light turned toward us. Their gaze pierced deeper than flesh, deeper than fear. In that instant, I understood: the Entity had never been ours to control. We had been brought here not as captors, not even as guests, but as candidates.

The chamber’s symbol split open, revealing a vast horizon beyond—a storm of spirals, a sea of light, a passage into something greater. The Entity surged forward, merging with the spire, its glow dissolving into the pattern. The figures raised their arms, and the resonance filled me with a single, undeniable truth: one of us must follow.

Mike’s voice trembled. “It wants a bearer. A successor.”

Beck’s eyes locked on mine, blazing with fury and dread. “Don’t you dare.”

But the choice was already made. The spirals wrapped around me, pulling me toward the storm. My body dissolved into light, my thoughts unraveling and reforming, until I was no longer myself but part of the pattern.

The last thing I saw was Beck’s face, frozen in horror, and Mike’s whisper echoing through the chamber:

“You’ve become the key.”

The gate flared once more, sealing behind us. The ship, the crew, the world we knew—all vanished into silence.

And I realised, with a clarity beyond fear, that the Entity had not been freed.

It had been replaced.

The spirals flared, and the figures of light turned toward us. Their gaze pierced deeper than flesh, deeper than fear. In that instant, I understood: the Entity had never been ours to control. We had been brought here not as captors, not even as guests, but as candidates.

The chamber’s symbol split open, revealing a vast horizon beyond—a storm of spirals, a sea of light, a passage into something greater. The Entity surged forward, merging with the spire, its glow dissolving into the pattern. The figures raised their arms, and the resonance filled me with a single, undeniable truth: one of us must follow.

Mike’s voice trembled. “It wants a bearer. A successor.”

Beck’s eyes locked on mine, blazing with fury and dread. “Don’t you dare.”

But the choice was already made. The spirals wrapped around me, pulling me toward the storm. My body dissolved into light, my thoughts unraveling and reforming, until I was no longer myself but part of the pattern.

The last thing I saw was Beck’s face, frozen in horror, and Mike’s whisper echoing through the chamber:

“You’ve become the key.”

The gate flared once more, sealing behind us. The ship, the crew, the world we knew—all vanished into silence.

...

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You suddenly wake up and realise the last 22 and 3/4 chapters of this book were all a dream. The end.