“You’ll look at your home one day and realize you don’t recognize it anymore.”

—Tonfori Vrintas, Almstedan refugee of the Dexsiman War

The particle hook retracted at high speed—Zaina grunted as it pulled her arm and held on for dear life. The wind rushed by, blasting her eyes with cool air.

The walls of the pit rushed by—glancing up, there were signs of coming destruction. The planet’s insides were breaking apart. Energy-spewing cracks raced up the chasm, though Zaina had long outpaced them. With a sudden jolt, she collided with the tracker tip. Her bleeding shoulder slammed into the jagged black stone atop the cavern, making her bellow in pain—Kitali’s frightened barks rang out from the other side.

Zaina clung to the particle hook’s grip, trying not to pass out—her eyes blinked open, and she stared down the pit. A crimson light was growing at the bottom, and a continuous, earth-shattering rumble was ascending with it. The walls cracked in a spiral pattern, releasing bursts of bright flame, which coalesced with the all-consuming light.

Zaina shuddered. Was this what it meant by the end of the world?

A drop of rain struck her forehead. Black clouds swirled overhead. The only light left was coming from below—and it was coming fast.

Zaina pulled herself up and over the rock right as a beam of crimson light rocketed into the sky, sending a shockwave of hot, putrid air through the area. She landed on her injured shoulder; after a screeching gasp, she huddled for cover against the stone as red energy shot into the sky and pierced the darkness. Had the particle hook-gun done that, or the Eldritch? Was it dead?

Horror grasped Zaina’s heart—the beam of crimson flame illuminated the degradation of her home. The countryside was lowering into the earth, twisting and groaning in its descent; Mount Dialemor had folded in on itself, sinking and crumbling. Corpses roamed freely, pulling themselves from the folds of the land as the world wrenched apart. Ildegor had been swallowed. The same crimson energy coursed through the surface, threatening to burst through. It was a wasteland breaking before her eyes.

The sky was more horrifying—all the air in Demelia’s atmosphere had been painted black. Swirling, thousand-foot tornados tore at the landscape—snow, hail, and rain were all falling at once; unnaturally massive bolts of lightning streaked about in the sky, setting fire to anything left on the surface that could burn. Gales of twisting darkness blanketed everything, and deep, ear-splitting cracks came from beyond the clouds.

Zaina shook her head. There was still a way out—the ship. The ground beneath Gir’s ship was cracked, but it could probably take off.

After standing and collecting herself, a rush of voices flooded into Zaina’s head, consuming every thought. She fell to one knee. Then, a fierce growl pierced the haze.

Kitali was before her, haunches raised and a frightful gleam in her eyes; gnashing voices gushed in and out of Zaina as she raised her hands.

In a weak voice, she said, “Girl, it’s me.”

The limphor lowered its head, and it growled louder, raspier.

“Kitali—no. You know me, girl.”

The limphor was shaking and trembling, refusing to take a single step toward her. She tried to stand up, but Kitali snapped at her and cowered.

“What the hell is wrong with you, girl?” Zaina shouted.

The limphor didn’t look like she was under the monster’s influence—she was afraid. Maybe she didn’t recognize Zaina. Were the whispers changing her somehow, making her unrecognizable?

Wincing as the voices tormented her, Zaina reached out her palm. In as calm a voice as she could muster, she said, “It’s all right, girl. It’s okay. It’s me. You know me. And I know you. Remember? I’m your Zaina. You’re Kitali, and I’m your girl.”

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The limphor’s eyes wavered—her tail lowered, and she whined. Zaina beckoned Kitali to come to her, and the creature hung her head and stretched out, taking a few steps until her nose was close enough to Zaina’s hand to take a good sniff. Then, Kitali’s tail wagged. Zaina stood up as the limphor sniffed her legs.

“Was it the smell, girl?” Zaina held Kitali close for a moment, then snapped back to attention. There was no time for this. The planet was collapsing. Facing the pit again, Zaina stared up. The crimson beam was waning. In the sky the storms were intensifying, and searing, all-consuming flame rained down.

Zaina’s head turned toward a humming noise coming from the ship—it was Gizmo, blissfully unaware of the end of the world.

“Z—zzz—Zaina! Did I get that right?”

“Yes!” she said, turning around to face Kitali. “Get to the ship, girl! Get to the ship!”

Gizmo swooped in beside her. “Where is—zzz Giramodo?”

“There’s no time! We have to get to the ship!”

“Ex—zzz—cus—zzz—e me, Z—zzz—Zaina, but there’s—zzz always—zzz time for our friends—zzz. And Giramodo is—zzz my friend.”

Her shoulders sank, and she averted her gaze. She tried to keep her voice from shaking with little success as she said, “I’m sorry, Gizmo. I did everything I could, but Gir is—Gir’s gone.”

“Gone?” Gizmo chirped. “Giramodo is—zzz gone? That can’t be right. He always—zzz s—zzz—tops—zzz by to s—zzz—ay goodbye.”

There wasn’t enough time to explain death to the glyph. “I’ll explain later! We have to get to the ship!”

In a cheery voice, Gizmo said, “But Z—zzz—Zaina, you do not know how to pilot a shuttlecraft. This—zzz is—zzz what you told Giramodo.”

“I’d rather die trying than give up,” she muttered. The red beam faded, giving way to a colossal plume of smoke rising from Demelia’s heart. They had to get on the ship five minutes ago.

“Kitali, come on!” Zaina shouted, but it was no use. The limphor’s hackles were on end again—the hairs all along her back were standing straight up. Zaina had never seen her like this. Weak, whimpering yaps were coming from her friend.

Dammit, girl, there’s no time.

Zaina picked Kitali up and shouted back to Gizmo, “Can you open the hatch?”

“I can do that for you!” the drone happily replied. With a click, a beep, and a whir, the glyph spun and did a flip in midair, and the starship’s hyper-steel hatch retracted. Zaina shot forward with Kitali in tow as Gizmo surged ahead of them. She was almost there—

A flash and a thunderous crack erupted nearby as a bolt of lightning struck the ground right next to Zaina, stealing all the breath from her lungs and knocking her over.

As she blinked, regaining her senses, Kitali whimpered and licked her face. Zaina took heart; at least the limphor wasn’t hurt. Gizmo, giving off sparks and flashes, was buzzing in circles near the ship, apparently not liking the surge in electricity.

“Hi, I’m Gizmo—hi, I’m Gizmo—hi, I’m Giz—zzz—mo—”

Zaina struggled to her feet and hoisted Kitali over her shoulder. She sprinted to the ship, taking deep breaths to collect herself. It was going to take a lot of luck to get this thing started, much less pilot it out of this hellscape in time.

Kitali was still as Zaina climbed the ladder to the ship’s hatch. She gently lowered Kitali in—the ship’s interior had enough room for the limphor to be comfortable.

For a moment, she wanted to get in, test her luck flying. Her eyes fell over to Gizmo, who was still emitting sparks and uttering nonsense. He was on a direct path for the pit, which spewed out foul black smoke.

“Gizmo—Gizmo!” Zaina groaned. Somehow, despite the glyph being an artificial construct, it didn’t feel right leaving it behind here to die. As much as Gir had been annoyed by the thing, he had cared for it in some sense, and she wanted to do right by Gir.

Zaina turned back to Kitali, who was whimpering in the ship’s hatch, and dropped the knapsack full of supplies. She doubted the limphor could climb the internal ladder, but to be sure, Zaina said in a stern voice, “Stay, girl—I really mean it this time.”

Zaina quickly descended the outside and sprinted after Gizmo as it made for the chasm, still repeating the same gibberish. She ran up to the glyph—it was hot to the touch, but she’d been through worse in the past couple hours. She turned and ran toward the ship with Gizmo in tow.

The voices bit at the back of her mind, fighting to take control. Zaina winced and stumbled—a wave of pain overcame her, and the glitching glyph spilled from her hands as she fell onto her stomach, aggravating her shoulder and her head.

Zaina grabbed her shoulder, sat up, and shouted, “Go—go! I’m right behind you! Gizmo—get back to the ship!”

“Giz—zzz—Giz—zzz—Giz—zzz—mo?” the droid repeated in a confused voice. Zaina groaned as agony coursed through her system. There was no time.

Pointing toward the ship, she growled, “You need to go inside there—okay?”

A happy chirp beeped from the drone. “Anything for you, Giramodo!”

“No, I’m not—ah—just go!”

The glyph hovered toward the ship. Kitali’s frantic yaps were drowned out—the voices fused together into an awful chorus of clattering echoes. Zaina struggled to her feet, holding her head in one hand as if to keep it from splitting apart. With a groan, she took a staggering step toward the ship—toward freedom.

It was too late. A crushing pressure weighed on her chest—a malicious presence manifested behind Zaina. The Eldritch was here.