A ripple of unease swept through the bridge. Lieutenant Lyla Trent’s hands faltered over her console, her usual confidence wavering as the gravity of the situation pressed in. “Energy readings just spiked!” she called out, her voice tight with strain. “Gravitational pull increased by thirty percent.” Her wide eyes met Zaria’s, betraying a flicker of panic that she struggled to suppress.

Zaria felt her own anxiety rising, but she forced it down, focusing on the facts. “Captain,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension, louder now and edged with urgency. “We need to pull back. This isn’t just an anomaly—it’s artificial. Someone or something built this.”

Captain Hale’s jaw tightened, his steady demeanor unshaken even as the stakes escalated. His gaze lingered on the swirling mass dominating the main display. With a curt nod, his voice rang out with authority. “Full reverse thrust. Get us away from that thing.”

The helmsman’s hands flew over the controls, his movements a blur of practiced efficiency. “Engines aren’t responding, sir,” he reported, his voice tense. “We’re being pulled in!”

“Try inverse harmonics on the shields,” Takeshi ordered, his tone calm but firm. “It might disrupt the pull.”

Zaria stole a glance at Takeshi. His composed presence was a welcome anchor amidst the chaos. She had worked with him only a handful of times, but their approaches to problem-solving had always aligned seamlessly. His calm logic balanced her intense focus, and together, they had often reached the same conclusions via different paths. Now, she trusted his expertise as much as her own.

The helmsman adjusted the shield parameters, his fingers moving in rapid succession. A faint hum resonated through the ship as the shields recalibrated. The room held its collective breath as they waited for any sign of change.

“No effect,” Lyla called, her voice tight. Her fingers trembled slightly as she monitored the readings. “The gravitational pull is still increasing.”

The tension in the air thickened, the bridge falling into a heavy silence punctuated only by the hum of the ship’s systems. Zaria’s gaze shifted back to the swirling anomaly, its tendrils reaching ever closer. Her mind raced, dissecting the data, searching for an answer.

This was no natural phenomenon. It was a trap—and they were caught in its grip.

The tension on the bridge was palpable as Captain Hale’s command cut through the chaos. “Bring weapons online. Target that anomaly.”

Master Sergeant Reynolds’ voice came sharp and steady, a contrast to the rising panic around them. “Weapons online. Targeting.”

The ship groaned beneath them, a deep, guttural vibration resonating through the floor. Zaria felt it in her bones, an unsettling hum that rattled her console and sent a shiver up her spine. The anomaly’s tendrils of energy twisted tighter, their ghostly light flickering erratically. The ship trembled, and then the lights went out.

A collective gasp rose from the bridge. Darkness swallowed them for an instant before the backup systems sputtered to life, casting a dim red glow across the frantic crew.

“Weapons offline,” Reynolds reported, her calm tone belied by the frantic movements of the crew scrambling at their stations. Alarms screamed, their sharp tones cutting through the heavy thrum of the anomaly’s pull.

Zaria gripped the edge of her console, her knuckles white. Her voice wavered, but the certainty in her words was unshakable. “It’s got us,” she breathed, her eyes locked on the swirling void dominating the screen. “Captain, it’s too late—we’re trapped.”

Commander Takeshi’s voice broke through the din, calm and deliberate. “Doctor Jenkins is correct. The anomaly has us in its grip.”

The main viewscreen flared violently as the anomaly’s core expanded, an infinite void devouring the surrounding light. The tendrils coiled tighter, their ethereal glow pulsing like a heartbeat, dragging the Horizon Seeker closer. Consoles sparked as the ship trembled, alarms merging into a cacophony of chaos. The bridge descended into controlled panic, the crew’s voices rising over the shrill warning sirens.

“Brace for impact!” Captain Hale roared, his voice cutting through the distortion as gravity twisted and pulled. The ship lurched violently, the bridge tilting forward as the anomaly’s gravitational pull overwhelmed their stabilizers.

Zaria clung to her console, her body straining against the relentless pull. Around her, crew members staggered, some thrown from their stations as the ship pitched and bucked. Sparks erupted from an overloaded console, the acrid sting of burning circuits thickening the air. Lights flickered madly, alternating between searing brightness and suffocating darkness.

Smoke curled from the walls as energy surged and overloaded the ship’s systems. The hum of the engines turned into a deep, guttural wail, the sound of machinery straining against the impossible.

On the screen, the void surged, its tendrils crushing the ship with a force that defied comprehension. Zaria’s gaze locked on the sight, the fingers of the anomaly’s energy squeezing tighter, dragging them deeper into the abyss.

A final pulse of light erupted from the core, blinding and all-encompassing, searing through the bridge. Zaria’s breath caught, her body suspended in an instant of weightlessness as the Horizon Seeker crossed the event horizon.

For a moment, everything stilled. The hum of the ship, the alarms, the cries of the crew—all of it faded into silence. Gravity dissolved, and with it, the world.

Zaria felt herself unraveling, her senses swallowed by the void. Her last thought flickered like a dying ember in the darkness: This was never natural.

And then, nothing. Silence engulfed her.