No Longer The Same

The silence left behind by the woman's departure was suffocating.

Orion stood motionless, staring at the empty space where she had vanished. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, an unsettling mix of awe and unease coursing through his veins.

Lyra exhaled sharply, running a hand through her dark hair. "We need to talk about what just happened."

Orion blinked and turned to her, his thoughts still reeling. "She knew my name. She said I was awakening."

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "And that you wouldn't have a choice when you see her again. That doesn't sound like a friendly warning."

A deep unease coiled in Orion's chest. He didn't like feeling as if he were a pawn in someone else's game.

The ship's AI chimed in with a static-laced voice. "External anomaly dissipated. Energy readings returning to baseline."

Orion sank into the pilot's chair, hands gripping the armrests. He tried to steady himself, but his mind wouldn't stop replaying the vision—the stars collapsing, cities burning, a hand reaching for his own.

And her voice. You must choose, Orion.

His throat felt dry. "She wasn't human."

Lyra folded her arms. "No kidding. The real question is—was she a threat?"

Orion hesitated. The woman hadn't harmed them. If anything, she had spoken like she was warning him. But of what?

"I don't know," he admitted. "But we need to find out."

Lyra exhaled. "Then let's start with the obvious. She appeared in the middle of a dead sector of space. Those flowers—whatever they were—weren't natural. And neither was she."

Orion nodded. The field of blossoms still lingered on the ship's external scanners, their ghostly luminescence unwavering. He keyed in a deep-space analysis, hoping for something—anything—that could tell him more.

The results came back in seconds.

Unknown biological composition. No match found in galactic archives. Energy signature: fluctuating, quantum-indeterminate. Possible cross-dimensional origin.

Lyra muttered a curse. "Cross-dimensional? That explains why the ship couldn't get a stable reading on her."

Orion frowned at the data. "But if she wasn't from this universe… what does she want with me?"

A notification flickered on his screen—an anomaly detected in his own biometric scan.

His pulse spiked. He pulled up the analysis.

And froze.

---

Anomalous Genetic Shift Detected.

Subject: Orion Veyra.

New signatures detected in neural pathways.

Foreign energy imprint detected in cellular structure.

Probability of external influence: 97.8%.

---

Orion's stomach twisted. "Lyra… something changed in me."

She leaned over his shoulder, reading the data. Her expression darkened. "This wasn't just a conversation. She did something to you."

Orion clenched his fists. He could feel it now—a strange, subtle hum beneath his skin, as if something new had been woven into his very existence.

His vision blurred again, just for a second—

A flicker of golden light. A presence watching.

Then it was gone.

Lyra placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. We'll figure this out. But first, we need to leave this place."

Orion forced himself to nod. Answers would come later.

Right now, they had to survive long enough to find them.

He gripped the ship's controls and set a new course. The engines roared to life, and the ship turned away from the void.

As they jumped to light-speed, Orion cast one last glance at the scanners.

The field of impossible flowers remained behind them, untouched by time, untouched by the laws of the universe.

And somewhere in the depths of space—

She was waiting.