Chapter 2
The landscape before Lyra offered no comfort. An endless desert of broken earth stretched as far as the eye could see, the ground appearing to melt, fracturing into dusty shards beneath a murky, oppressive sky. There was no movement at all. The air was dense, as though something invisible pressed against her chest, and the stifling atmosphere kept everything in absolute silence. Here, every natural law seemed to have vanished. She had been in deserts on other planets before, but nothing compared to this. This world was broken, as if something essential had been torn from its being, leaving it empty and dead.
Lyra took a step forward, feeling the crunch of the ground beneath her boots, the sound echoing through the vast silence. She took a deep breath, the thick, heavy air filling her lungs. It wasn't the fresh air she knew but something... different. "It's like the air is alive," she thought. There was a metallic tinge, like an electrical charge suspended in the atmosphere. The scent of rust and electricity mingled with the wind, leaving her with an unsettling sense of discomfort.
Lyra stopped in her tracks, looking up at the reddish sky dragging itself across the horizon like an old, poorly hung tapestry.
"This isn't normal," she muttered, pressing her lips together. Then again, what was normal lately? Destroyed ship, dark vortex, dead world... Normality, it seemed, had long since resigned.
"Lyra, are you all right?" Lugh's voice echoed in her ear, laced with a touch of irony seemingly programmed for moments like this.
"Well, considering I'm on a planet where the sky looks like congealed blood and the clouds are on strike, I'd say I'm fabulous, Lugh. What do you think?" she shot back, raising her hands dramatically toward the unmoving clouds.
"I'd say your sense of humor remains intact. Though we should discuss your tendency to anthropomorphize meteorological phenomena."
Lyra scoffed and resumed walking, kicking a rock that crumbled into pieces upon impact. The ground beneath her feet seemed ready to give way under the slightest pressure.
"This feels like the set of a low-budget post-apocalyptic movie. Where's the director?"
"I detect no human presence or cameras," Lugh replied with complete seriousness. "Though I admit the aesthetics are... peculiar."
"Thanks, Lugh. Your emotional support is, as always, overwhelming," she murmured as her eyes fixed on the deep cracks slicing through the terrain.
A warm gust of air stirred some dust, which floated as though it had a life of its own.
"Even the dust doesn't know where to settle. This is officially the most depressing place I've ever been."
"More depressing than that time you found that sealed-off space full of mutant rats?" Lugh inquired.
Lyra frowned.
"First: don't bring that up. Second: at least the rats were entertaining."
As she moved forward, the air grew thicker, and the sensation of being watched stabbed into the back of her neck like an invisible thorn.
"Tell me I'm being paranoid," she murmured, not stopping.
"I can't lie to you, Lyra. My sensors indicate something... unusual is happening. There are fluctuations in air density and irregular energy patterns."
"Great. That's just what I wanted to hear," she responded, sarcasm dripping from her tone. She glanced at the elongated shadows cast by the rocky formations. "I bet those rocks are staring at me."
"Rocks don't stare, Lyra. Although, technically, in a high-energy environment, they could harbor certain—"
"It was a joke, Lugh. Please don't make me explain the fundamentals of human humor to you again."
"I still believe human humor is a form of evolutionary defect," Lugh replied. "Though I must admit it's fascinating from an anthropological perspective."
Lyra let out an exaggerated sigh and stopped, glancing around.
"Is anyone out there?" she called into the void, her voice slicing through the dense silence. The only reply was the echo of her own words.
"Interesting strategy," Lugh commented. "Announcing your position on an unknown planet. Very tactical."
"Shut up, Lugh," she replied, though she couldn't help a fleeting smile. The unease remained, but at least she wasn't alone. Technically.
"You know, this would be a lot easier if something just jumped out and attacked me already," she muttered, her eyes scanning the horizon. "The suspense is killing me."
"I would prefer that nothing killed you, Lyra. That would significantly complicate my operability."
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, clenching her fists as the tension in the air thickened. "All right. Let's play. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Would you like the full list or just the top ten most probable scenarios?"
Lyra shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.
"Just keep the sensors on. Something tells me this place isn't done surprising us."
"Really, mysterious wind? Is that all you've got?" Lyra muttered as the air swirled dust around her, wrapping her in a reddish shroud. The planet seemed determined to play the role of an ominous host.
"You could consider that the wind has no intentions," Lugh interjected in his ever-neutral tone, though Lyra swore she detected a hint of programmed mockery. "It's just air in motion."
"Oh, thank you, Professor Basic Science," she replied with a snort. "What would I do without your wisdom?"
The dust swirled and seemed to dance around her, as if trying to whisper secrets she wasn't ready to hear. Something about the environment made her feel like she was walking a tightrope stretched over an abyss.
"I don't like this, Lugh. Everything here is... too much."
"Too vague to be a useful report. Care to specify?"
"The ground, the air, the rocks! Everything feels like it's watching me."
"Technically, none of those things have eyes," Lugh responded with his impeccable logic. "Though the rocks could be generating an energy resonance."
Lyra stopped and fixed her gaze on a rock formation in the distance. It was too symmetrical, as if someone had taken advanced alien geometry classes and decided to practice in the middle of this forgotten desert.
"Rocks with energy resonance? Fantastic. Just what I needed. You know what? If one of those things starts moving, I quit."
"You're not employed, Lyra. Technically, you can't quit."
She rolled her eyes and kept walking. Each step she took seemed to erase itself behind her, as if the earth were alive and determined to swallow any trace of her existence.
"If this is a mind game, they're doing a great job," she muttered, clenching her fists.
"Wait, was that sarcasm? I've been trying to perfect mine."
"Yes, Lugh, it was sarcasm. Congratulations, you're making progress!" she replied with a bitter smile.
Reaching higher ground, the strange rock formations began to appear more unsettling. They were too precise, carved with a level of detail no natural phenomenon could justify. Some even reflected a faint light from no apparent source.
"Lugh, do you have anything on this?" she asked, pointing at the stones.
"My sensors show irregular energy patterns, but nothing conclusive. Though I must admit, they are... curious."
"Curious, sure. That's what you say about something right before it tries to kill you."
"Or before you try to destroy it. Your record supports this."
Lyra shrugged and bent down to examine a nearby rock. The markings resembled runes, intricate and deliberate. Something—or someone—had been here before her.
"This isn't natural. And if it is, the universe has a very twisted sense of humor."
"Or maybe you simply don't understand it."
"Did you just call me ignorant?"
"I was merely stating a fact."
Lyra shook her head and stood up, adjusting her gear. The silence around her was so dense it felt oppressive. It was a living silence, as if something controlled it. Each step she took echoed louder than it should in that absolute void.
"All right, weird planet. What do you want from me?" she said to the air, raising her hands.
"Bold strategy, Lyra. Talking to a planet. Should I log this as another failed attempt at social interaction?"
"Shut up, Lugh."
But she couldn't help but smile as she stepped further into the unknown.
"Is this... magic?" Lyra murmured, feeling that the word itself was a blasphemy against everything her scientific training stood for. But there it was, rolling off her tongue, because she couldn't find a better term to describe what she was seeing.
Around her, the rocks—some shaped so much like humans that they bordered on creepy—seemed to stare at her. Not literally, of course, but something in their arrangement, in the shadows they cast, sent shivers down her spine.
"Talking to rocks now," Lugh interjected in that monotonous tone that somehow managed to sound annoyingly sarcastic.
"So what if I am? They're better company than you half the time."
"If you find the rocks offer more useful answers, please let me know. I'll update my interaction priorities."
Lyra sighed, ignoring the server. She crouched to examine one of the smaller figures, its edges carved with precision that seemed too deliberate to be the work of wind or erosion. They weren't ordinary sculptures. There was something... vibrant about them, as if they served a purpose.
"This is weird. Even by my standards," she said aloud, more to fill the awkward silence than to expect a response.
"Define 'weird.' Because, frankly, landing on an unknown planet after being swallowed by a vortex should already be high on your list of oddities."
"Lugh, if you don't have anything useful to say, shut up."
A faint hum crept into her ears. At first, she thought it was her imagination, but as she walked, the sound grew louder. The air around her felt charged, like static electricity, and her skin tingled with every step.
"Lugh, do you feel this?"
"I don't have skin to feel. But yes, the sensors are detecting unusual energy fluctuations in the environment."
"That was sarcasm, wasn't it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I lack the capacity to confirm that."
Lyra huffed and kept moving. The vibration grew stronger with each step, almost as if the planet was responding to her presence.
"This isn't natural. Definitely not natural," she muttered to herself.
"Technically, nothing here is natural from your perspective."
She stopped and turned toward a deep fissure in the ground. Her gaze drifted to the shadows, which seemed to stretch and twist as if they had a life of their own.
"What do you want from me?" she asked quietly, not expecting an answer.
"Are you hoping the ground will respond? Because I can try decoding subterranean vibrations if that helps."
"Lugh, don't help!" she replied with a mix of frustration and exhaustion.
The air was so thick it felt like it was pressing down on her. Every movement she made echoed, not just in her ears, but through her entire body, as if the ground was taking note of every step.
"This feels like a pop quiz I didn't study for," she muttered, clenching her fists.
"Given your history, I'd say you didn't study for the scheduled exams either."
Lyra couldn't help but chuckle briefly, though the unease lingered.
"All right, weird planet, you want to play? Let's play. But fair warning—I don't like losing."
"Considering we technically don't know the rules, this could be an interesting challenge."
"You know, it's not comforting at all when you try to be funny."
With a mix of resignation and determination, Lyra moved toward the dark horizon, the constant hum accompanying her like a sinister soundtrack.
She advanced cautiously, her boots kicking up small clouds of reddish dust as her eyes stayed fixed on an unusual glimmer that broke the monotony of the landscape. It was a faint but hypnotic light, like a promise made by something with no intention of keeping it.
"Tell me you're not planning to walk straight toward that," Lugh's voice resonated in her helmet, laced with a hint of programmed irony.
"Do you have a better suggestion? Sit down and knit while waiting for something even stranger to show up?"
"If you need a less risky activity, we can always catalog the rocks. You seem fascinated by them lately."
"Shut up, Lugh."
The terrain grew softer, and soon her steps brought her to the edge of a river. Well, "river" was generous. It was more like someone had poured the essence of a liquid nightmare into a crack in the planet.
"A river?" Lyra murmured, observing the water—or what she assumed was water. The liquid was dark, almost black, and it didn't flow. It vibrated. It moved as if it had its own agenda.
"Doesn't look drinkable, in case you were considering it."
"Thanks, Lugh. Your input is always so helpful."
Her gaze stayed fixed on the strange fluid, which didn't reflect light but seemed to absorb it like a portable black hole. Every ripple that formed disintegrated at the edges, as if the river was devouring reality itself.
"This doesn't make sense," she said, activating her scanner.
The screen lit up, but the data it displayed was utter chaos. Numbers, graphs, and codes unlike anything Lyra had seen before. An annoying beep began to sound.
"Well, that's new," Lugh commented. "I've seen dying system diagnostics more coherent than that."
"Something's interfering," Lyra muttered as she adjusted the parameters. But no matter what she did, the data continued to shift frantically.
"It's like the river is actively sabotaging my devices."
"Sabotage by a body of water? That's a new level of humiliation."
"Lugh, seriously. Do you have to comment on everything?"
"It's a default function. I can't turn myself off."
Lyra let out a sigh and shut off the scanner. She crossed her arms, staring at the river as if trying to decipher its purpose. The sensation of being watched, of standing under a cosmic microscope, intensified.
"This goes beyond anything I've ever seen," she said, more to herself than to her annoying co-pilot.
"Technically, you haven't seen much outside your star system. Maybe this is just a normal river for this planet."
"Normal? Lugh, this is breaking the laws of physics!"
"And your point is...?"
Before she could respond, a low, ominous sound broke the stillness. It started as a murmur but quickly grew into a roar that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Was that the river talking? Because if it is, I definitely don't want to know what it's saying."
Lyra lifted her head, her senses on high alert, searching for the source of the noise. Her muscles tensed, and the accelerated beat of her heart pounded in her ears.
"What the hell...?"
The hum in the air intensified, and the vibration she'd felt earlier now transformed into an oppressive pressure.
"Lugh, tell me you have something. Anything."
"Advice? Run."
Lyra turned toward the dark horizon, the tension in her chest morphing into pure adrenaline.
"If this planet wants to scare me, it's going to have to try harder."
"Of course, the strategy of taunting a reality-devouring alien river. Very clever."
"Just shut up and tell me where to go."
"Far. Very far."
With one last glance at the river, Lyra gritted her teeth and started running. Whatever was coming, she wasn't about to stick around to find out.
The mist felt like a living curtain, rippling and playing with the contours of reality. Lyra skidded to a halt when a gigantic figure emerged, as though the very air had grown tired of hiding its secret.
"Ah, of course. Because the only thing missing from this fantastic day was a nightmare monster thirsty for human blood," she muttered, instinctively taking a step back.
The creature was enormous, taller than any building Lyra had ever seen, with shadows slithering around it as if they were part of its flesh. Two glowing red eyes pierced through the haze, pinning her like daggers.
"Oh, great. Red eyes. Because if you have a giant body made of darkness, you clearly need LED lights on your head for dramatic flair," she grumbled, her legs screaming at her to run.
The monster roared, a sound so deep the ground beneath her feet trembled. Lyra stumbled, throwing herself behind a nearby rock.
"Perfect. A seismic roar. I think we've just been added to the menu."
As the creature advanced slowly, its steps hammered the terrain, crushing everything in its path. Lyra glanced at Lugh, the interface projected in her visor.
"Any brilliant ideas, cyber-genius? Or are you just going to watch while I get squashed like a bug?"
"My calculations suggest that staying still could increase your survival chances by 12%."
"Twelve percent? That's not even a decent number! What kind of intelligence are you?"
"One that, apparently, is not designed to deal with interdimensional entities."
Lyra rolled her eyes.
"Fantastic. I'm stuck with a sarcastic server. Anything else to add, oh master of the obvious?"
Lugh paused before replying.
"Yes. The monster seems to be searching for something. It might not be you. Although, given your physical attributes..."
"Don't you dare finish that sentence!"
Seizing a moment of distraction, Lyra slipped backward, moving stealthily toward a taller rock formation. Her heart pounded, and the thick air seemed to press down on her.
"Lugh, if that thing catches me, I swear I'll manually uninstall you with a hammer."
"Noted. Though uninstalling me would be detrimental to your survival prospects."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take right now!"
The creature halted, spreading its massive wings—shadowy and composed of some kind of fractured light that flickered intermittently.
"Oh, sure. Now it flies. Because walking wasn't terrifying enough."
"My sensors detect that the creature might be using an unknown form of energy. I recommend maintaining distance."
Lyra clenched her teeth.
"Really? I hadn't thought of that, Lugh. Thank you so much for that nugget of wisdom."
Finally, after a few tense minutes, the monster faded into the mist, taking with it the roar that still echoed in her head. Lyra exhaled a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping.
"Well, that was fun. We should do it more often, don't you think?"
"If by 'fun' you mean statistically improbable survival, then yes, we should."
Lyra looked up at the gray sky and clenched her fists.
"Someday, Lugh, someday, I'll find a way to give you emotions. Just so you can experience how infuriating you are."
"That sounds… inefficient."
"Like everything on this damned planet," she replied, resuming her path, her heart still racing and a persistent feeling that the worst was yet to come.
The horizon bent and rippled as if the planet itself was toying with her perception. Lyra stopped, sighing as the ground beneath her seemed to breathe.
"Great, a planet with a fetish for experimental horror cinema," she muttered, adjusting the controls on her visor, which, as always, flickered between functionality and visual chaos. "Please tell me this isn't another system prank."
Lugh's monotone voice echoed in her helmet.
"Considering your questionable sense of humor, I doubt you'd call it a 'prank' if it were."
Lyra snorted as she headed toward a narrow passage she had spotted among the rocky formations.
"Perfect. A dark tunnel on a planet made of nightmare scraps. Nothing could possibly go wrong here."
"Your sarcasm does not aid system stability."
"Your tone doesn't help my patience, Lugh."
The air around her thickened with each step into the passage. A distant glow pulsed softly in the gloom, beckoning like a beacon of uncertainty. Lyra paused, squinting.
"Do you see that, Lugh? A mysterious light at the end of a tunnel on a planet where everything tries to kill me. Clearly, it's safe!"
"Either you're about to die, or you've found the energy source we need. Both possibilities seem exciting."
"How encouraging! It's like having a motivational coach who wants me to fail with flair."
As she advanced, the blue glow grew stronger. The walls began to display strange symbols, engravings that seemed to shift positions whenever she looked directly at them. Lyra reached out, brushing one of the inscriptions.
"What do you think, Lugh? Ancient alien language or interior decoration?"
"Both options are plausible. Though your track record suggests that touching unknown things rarely ends well."
"I can't help it. Curiosity killed the cat… and probably the space explorer too."
The moment her finger grazed the stone, a flash surged through the walls, illuminating the passage with a pale blue glow. The engravings seemed to awaken, as if from a long slumber. Lyra stepped back.
"Lugh… are you seeing this?"
"Yes. My preliminary analysis indicates that you've just activated something. Either you're about to make a historic discovery, or the galactic equivalent of a booby trap."
"Wow, so reassuring. If I die, at least it'll be memorable."
The pulsing glow intensified, and the air filled with a low hum, almost like a distant murmur. Lyra frowned.
"Lugh, does that sound like… voices?"
"Yes. Though technically, it could be a natural acoustic phenomenon."
"Natural? On a planet where nothing is natural? Sure, that checks out."
She ventured further, the blue light revealing a small pedestal at the center of the cave. On top of it, a strange artifact floated in the air, emitting waves of energy that made the ground vibrate. Lyra stopped in front of it, crossing her arms.
"Well, this screams 'trap' in every language I know."
"And yet you're considering touching it."
"What can I say? Life is short… and apparently, so is my common sense."
She reached out toward the artifact, feeling a strange warmth that seemed to penetrate her suit. The moment her fingers brushed its surface, a blinding flash filled the cave. Lyra was thrown onto her back, stunned.
"Lugh! What the hell was that?"
"Technically speaking, I'd say you just activated an ancient defense system. Practically speaking: I told you so."
As she scrambled to her feet, a deep roar reverberated through the cave, shaking the walls. Lyra turned toward the entrance, where a gigantic shadow began to take shape.
"Perfect. A monster. All we're missing are special effects to complete the picture."
"Suggestion: run."
"For once, I agree with you."
As the walls trembled and the roar filled the air, Lyra bolted for the exit.