It was a hot, stormy day when Izak’s life took a turn. Alone in his small apartment, he packed his gear for a long-awaited trip to Iceland. After years of struggling as a freelance photographer, he'd finally secured a contract with a notorious firm. His mission? To capture close-up shots of two newly active volcanoes.

“Alright, I think that’s everything... 14-35mm, trusty 24-70mm, and my 100-500 for those lava shots,” Izak muttered to himself.

This trip would be his last shot at making it as a professional. If it didn’t work, he’d have no choice but to find a regular job.

"Almost time to go..." Thunder rumbled outside, rattling the windows. "Not the best day to fly," he mumbled under his breath.

It took over an hour to reach Quito’s airport. Rain poured down, lightning lighting up the roads. The radio in the taxi barely cut through the storm's roar. Izak had moved to Ecuador twelve years ago with his late wife, Elsa. After two years in Australia, they’d chosen Ecuador as their home. Tomorrow marked the anniversary of Elsa’s disappearance. Three years ago, she’d vanished during a flight from Quito to Cuenca. No one knew what had happened. The pain still lingered, and photography had become his therapy.

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The massive clock at the airport read 23:30. He had just under two hours to check in and clear customs. Even at almost 37, traveling still made him nervous. Unlike Elsa, he hated flying. Packing and unpacking at customs was just a hassle. I shouldn't have had that coffee, he thought.

Settling into his seat in economy, he tried to relax. The rain had finally stopped, and the pilot had signaled for takeoff. It would be an 11-hour flight to Amsterdam, followed by a connection to Keflavík International.

“Alright, Izak, new beginning,” he muttered to himself.

The plane had been flying over the Atlantic for hours when the shaking started. Please return to your seat and fasten your seatbelt. We are entering a zone of turbulence, the captain's voice crackled. Izak turned off his Nintendo Switch and stowed it, adjusting his seat.

"Here we go again... I fucking hate flying. I should’ve just stayed in Ecuador," he grumbled.

Then, a lightning bolt struck the right wing of the plane. The lights flickered, and the plane jolted violently. The thunder’s roar was deafening, and for a moment, Izak thought it might tear apart. His heart raced. He knew planes were built for this, but that didn’t stop his panic.

A second lightning strike hit, and everything went white. Silence followed, as if time itself had stopped. Izak thought it was the end—at least I’ll see Elsa again...

If only he knew that he was about to find out just how true that was.