Space.

  The rescue ship carrying Manuel drifts through the silent void of space, swallowed by darkness, its sounds and lights absorbed by the vast nothingness. Distant stars shimmer in the background, and a flicker from a blue pulsar glints through the portholes—its cold light like a beacon in the endless dark.

  Crew Quarters.

  Warm, dimmed light spills from the ceiling, creating a cozy atmosphere—as if, far from any known world, one might simply forget and just be. A faint vibration hums through the hull, lending a sense of stability, as if the ship and crew have merged into a single living entity. The spacious cabin is filled with soft navigational tones, the whisper of air systems, and the barely audible purr of life support.

  A blanket lies across one of the chairs. On the table—mugs with traces of a drink. In the corner, several books are neatly stacked, as if once read and left without regret. It all creates an almost homelike comfort. But comfort running from an unseen tension.

  Maria and Pietro lie on a soft couch, pressed close together. Their breaths are steady, like echoes of the rhythm of the universe itself. He gently strokes her hair, and she responds with a catlike movement, turning her head to inhale the scent of his skin. Then, as if by an unspoken agreement, they melt into a kiss. Passionate. Hungry.

  He smiles. She returns a playful glance, feeling his warmth. But the moment vanishes.

  — OW! — she cries out, instinctively clutching her chest.

  The medallion on her neck flickers with a pale light. At first barely visible, but then a thin arc of electricity snaps from it—subtle on the skin, but sharp enough to make her chest tighten, her breath catch. A pulse. A signal. A click, like a switch. She loses consciousness.

  Absolute silence.

  A void so complete, it erases the idea of sound.

  Maria floats in space, suspended in zero gravity. Her hair drifts slowly, as if caught in a silent current, every movement slowed, as though she’s submerged in a reality beyond comprehension. Around her—blackness. Not just darkness, but nothingness. No light, no sound, not even the simplest notions like "up" or "down". Only her—and nothing.

  Maria opens her eyes. She’s in shock, her heart pounding. It isn’t fear—it’s complete disorientation.

  — Where am I?

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  There’s no sound. But the thought is sharp, clear—like lightning cutting through the dark. These aren’t just her questions—they are her being. There is only consciousness, tied to images, while her body and senses linger somewhere else, on the edge of reality.

  She feels cold. Or does she imagine it?

  And then, a point of light appears in the darkness. Then another. And another. Sparks, merging into lines—they begin to weave a pattern. A pattern she knows well. It’s engraved on her mysterious medallion.

  Threads of light start to form something greater. A structure. A scheme. A mind. It all coalesces into a single, growing, powerful form. And then…

  A voice.

  — You are a believer. The time has come. The key has been activated.

  Maria flinches—as if the voice whispers directly into her soul. It isn’t sound—it’s a whisper from the depths of her consciousness.

  — Now you are with us. The Altar of Rebirth will open once more.

  The light intensifies, its brilliance growing until it forms a silhouette approaching her. A shape made of stardust. It moves. It is more than an image.

  Maria comes to.

  She gasps, her eyes darting across the cabin walls, seeking proof that she’s back—here, in reality. Her head rests on Pietro’s shoulder, who still holds her in his arms, seemingly unaware anything happened.

  Maria suddenly pushes him away, as if waking in a stranger’s embrace. Pietro recoils, confusion spreading across his face.

  — What’s wrong with you?

  Maria clutches her chest—fingers pressing against the weight of the amulet. She can barely breathe, her voice a whisper:

  — What just happened to me?.. How long was I… not here?

  Pietro frowns, his expression shows only mild confusion:

  — What are you talking about? You didn’t go anywhere. Everything was… normal.

  She removes the amulet and, without breaking her gaze, examines it like a venomous creature. Her eyes are full of worry and confusion. Silently, she places it around Pietro’s neck.

  — Maria, what are you doing?..

  At that moment, a second medallion appears on Maria’s chest, identical to the first. Pietro is stunned. His eyes move from the medallion around his neck to the one on hers.

  And then, as if commanded, they both speak—not in their voices, not in their tones:

  — I believe in the god Hanaris.

  A moment of utter silence.

  Crushing. Suffocating.

  Maria averts her eyes from Pietro, her gaze slowly sweeping the room. He sits before her like his mind has been connected to some alien will. They both tremble.

  — Did you hear that?.. — her whisper barely audible.

  — Yes… — he nods, his voice catching. — I said it. But I didn’t mean to.

  Maria freezes. Her eyes widen. Realization floods her mind like an icy river through her veins. She no longer doubts. The voice inside her is no longer a whisper—it’s a clear and commanding directive.

  — We must… — her words hang in the air, as if someone else speaks through her.

  — …put the amulet on the captain. — Pietro finishes her sentence. His voice is cold. Mechanical.

  Slowly, as if to a silent signal, they rise. Their movements are synchronized, as if a conductor guides their every step. They do not look at each other as they leave the cabin.

  The door opens with a hiss.

  They vanish down the corridor, walking toward the unknown.