The year was 2489, and Earth was no longer the blue marble it once was. Above the planet's surface floated a ring of artificial moons — relics of abandoned colonization dreams. Below, megacities clawed into the skies, choking on their own brilliance. The stars had gone quiet… until the signal came.
It wasn't a broadcast. It wasn't even a recognizable transmission. It was a pulse — rhythmic, haunting, ancient.
Inside a restricted chamber of the Chrono-Astral Institute, Kael Drayven sat slouched at his terminal, his booted feet disrespectfully propped up on a console that cost more than a Martian harvest colony. The soft humming of quantum processors filled the room as holograms danced before him. But Kael wasn't paying attention. Not really.
Then the pulse hit.
He jolted upright as every screen in the room flickered, shifting into a singular line of rotating symbols — ancient Sumerian, overlaid with quantum entanglement code. Kael's eyes widened.
"No way…" he whispered, leaning closer.
The signal wasn't from any known star. In fact, it came from Sector Null, a region long declared unreachable — a cosmic blind spot where every probe had vanished, where compasses spun like dancers on caffeine.
And deep inside him, Kael felt something stir. This wasn't just a discovery. It was a message meant for him.
---
Two hours later, the Council of Chrono-Security would still be arguing about the breach.
Kael, meanwhile, was already gone.
---
"Why is it always you?" barked Admiral Venn over the intercom as Kael sprinted through the Chrono Dock.
"Because I'm the only one crazy enough to chase ghosts," Kael shouted back, grinning like a man possessed.
The Epoch Serpent, a prototype time-surfing vessel retired after a singular failed jump, shimmered under moonlight as it powered up. Sleek and serpentine, it pulsed with illegal chronometric energy.
By the time alarms started blaring, Kael had already boarded.
---
Inside the ship's cockpit, the crew — if they could be called that — looked less than thrilled.
Ziri, a floating orb with glowing etch-runes, hovered silently. She was an ancient AI recovered from a forgotten ruin on Europa.
Mako, the ex-military pilot with a cybernetic eye and a bad attitude, was already seated, fingers dancing across controls.
And Syla, the quiet alien empath from a war-displaced planet, stared at Kael like she could feel the chaos blooming in his mind.
"This is suicide," Mako grunted. "Sector Null isn't a playground."
"Maybe," Kael said, strapping in. "But if we don't go now, someone else will. That signal's not random. It's calling something."
"Or it's bait," Syla whispered. "And we're the prey."
Kael didn't respond. Deep down, he knew. This was madness. But madness was the family business.
---
As the Epoch Serpent lifted into the foldstream, Earth faded behind them. Stars streaked past like whispered memories. Inside the chronometric bubble, time bent — not forward or backward, but sideways, like reality was shrugging off its own weight.
Then the pulse returned.
Not from outside — from inside the ship.
Ziri buzzed erratically. "Signal recurrence detected. Origin… unknown. Rewriting internal coordinates."
"What do you mean rewriting?" Mako snapped. "Who's flying this thing?!"
Kael turned pale. "Ziri's not in control… something else is guiding us."
The ship twisted.
Light fractured.
And time... snapped.
---
Kael awoke with blood in his mouth and stars in his eyes.
The cockpit was dark. Silent. Dead.
Only the gentle hum of emergency lights lit the wrecked remains of the dashboard. Outside the cracked viewport floated a red-hued world with floating rocks orbiting it like frozen tears.
Ziri blinked back to life, her voice raspy. "Chrono drift… complete. Welcome to Planet Vehloris."
Kael coughed. "Where…?"
"Unknown," she replied. "Star charts don't match. Planet doesn't exist in any registered database."
Mako stumbled in, clutching his arm. "We're alive. Barely. The foldstream nearly tore us apart."
Then Syla entered, her expression unreadable. "This world… it's singing."
They stepped out onto crimson sands.
Ruins of impossible origin stretched across the horizon — Egyptian obelisks buried beside Japanese pagodas; marble Roman columns twisted into futuristic spires. All of time collapsed into one surreal landscape.
Kael felt his breath catch. It was like stepping into a memory that hadn't been written yet.
"This planet," Ziri whispered, "is a chronosink… a place where lost moments go to die."
Then a voice echoed from the ruins.
"You are late, Kael Drayven."
From the shadows stepped a tall figure clad in armor that shimmered like polished bone. Eyes glowing with blue fire.
Kael froze. "Who…?"
"I am one of the Chronites," the figure said. "And you are the last Voyager."