Author’s Note: Thank you for joining me on this journey. If you are new to this story, I suggest you start with Chapter 1. Your comments are very welcome!
Jason shuffled into the small corner store, his cane tapping softly against the worn linoleum floor. The familiar scent of stale coffee and overripe fruit greeted him as he stepped inside, the bells above the door jingling in their usual lazy rhythm. The world outside was panicking—people rushing around, frantically trying to understand why the spiral models had suddenly stopped working. But for Jason, it was just another day.
“Morning, Mr. Cole,” the store owner, Ramzi, called from behind the counter. His eyes were scanning the news on a small screen. His face was tense, drawn tight with the kind of worry Jason had seen on too many faces lately.
“Morning, Ramzi,” Jason replied, calm, almost serene. He made his way to the back of the store, browsing the shelves with no sense of urgency. The canned goods gleamed under the dim lights, neatly stacked, waiting to be bought by those too busy or panicked to think clearly.
Ramzi glanced up from his screen, raising an eyebrow as Jason took his time. “Aren’t you worried about the spirals?” he asked, nodding toward the TV. “Everyone’s saying they’re not working anymore. Lines are forming outside the few hospitals left; people are desperate. How are you so… calm?”
Jason paused momentarily, his hand resting on a can of soup. “Worried? No.” He picked up the can, inspecting the label like it was the most crucial thing in the world. “Worrying doesn’t change anything, Ramzi. Besides, I’ve always lived without the spiral.”
Ramzi blinked, clearly surprised. “But—everyone’s saying it’s the end of everything! No more healing, no more—”
Jason held up a hand, cutting him off gently. “It’s not the end, Ramzi. It’s just… time catching up with us. We all knew it was coming. Some sooner than others.”
Ramzi frowned, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe for you, but the rest of us… We’ve been relying on those spirals. People aren’t ready to face life without them.”
Jason chuckled softly, his voice filled with the warmth of someone who had long made peace with the inevitable. “People haven’t been ready to face life with them, either. Always trying to cheat time, run from it. But you can’t outrun time forever. At least, you shouldn’t want to.”
Ramzi didn’t say anything, just stared at Jason like he was from another planet.
Jason moved toward the counter, setting the can of soup down with a soft clink. “Look, Ramzi. I get it. People are scared. But fear’s a part of life. It’s what we’ve been avoiding for years, hiding behind those little spirals, pretending we’re invincible. But we’re not. Never were.”
Ramzi sighed, running his fingers over the barcode reader absentmindedly. “I just… I don’t know how people are going to handle this. They don’t know how to live without the spirals.”
“They’ll figure it out,” Jason said softly. “Same way we always do.”
Ramzi scanned the can, shaking his head. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not. But I’ve never seen anything like this. Not since the spirals came into our lives.”
Jason smiled, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding from years of experience. “And you probably won’t again.”
Jason slid a few crumpled bills across the counter as Ramzi bagged the can. “Take care of yourself, Ramzi.”
“You too, Mr. Cole,” Ramzi said, his eyes lingering on Jason as the old man turned and headed for the door.
Outside, the world was a little less chaotic than earlier in the morning, but the undercurrent of panic was still palpable. People moved quickly, clutching phones to their ears, exchanging hushed, worried conversations. Jason walked at his own pace, his cane clicking against the sidewalk with each deliberate step. He could feel the weight of his body now, the familiar aches in his knees. And it felt… comforting.
As he neared his apartment building, Jason nodded to the doorman, a young man with a worried look, his brow furrowed as he scrolled through his phone. The doorman glanced up as Jason approached, his expression softening slightly.
“Afternoon, Mr. Cole,” the doorman said, standing up a little straighter. “You’re looking well.”
Jason chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Looking well? Son, I feel every year I’ve lived, and maybe a few extra for good measure.”
The doorman smiled awkwardly, but there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “Aren’t you worried about… well, everything? The spirals? People are saying the models aren’t coming back.”
Jason paused for a moment, tapping his cane lightly against the ground. “Worried? No. Time has a way of catching up to everyone eventually, son. We all knew this would happen one day. Maybe not so soon, but here we are.”
The doorman scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure how to respond. “I guess I never really thought about it like that.”
Jason smiled, giving the young man a reassuring nod. “You’ll figure it out. We all will.”
Jason moved past him and into the lobby, his pace slow but steady. He took the elevator to his floor, the familiar hum of the machinery lulling him into a quiet sense of contentment. The aches in his joints were more noticeable now, but they weren’t overwhelming. Just there—like old friends, reminding him of the life he’d lived.
Back in his apartment, Jason set the grocery bag on the counter, glancing around the small, comfortable space he called home. It wasn’t much, but it was his. He had lived here for decades, long before the spirals had come into the world, and he would live here long after they were gone.
He made his way to the window, settling into his worn-out armchair, the soft cushions embracing him like an old friend. As he sat, he felt his body sigh into the chair, his joints creaking with the effort.
But instead of feeling burdened by the weight of his age, Jason smiled.
There was a peace in it, in finally feeling his age. It wasn’t something to fear or something to run from. It was natural. It was the way things were meant to be.
He stared at the skyline, watching as the evening sun sank behind the distant buildings. The world was changing. People were panicking, scrambling to hold onto the youth and vitality they had come to expect as a right.
But not him. Jason was content to let the years settle into his bones and feel the weight of time as it wrapped around him like an old, comfortable coat.
Because for the first time in a long time, he felt alive.
The cold, metallic walls of the station hummed with a quiet, steady vibration as Elias and Deia moved silently through the narrow corridors. The air smelled stale, thick with recycled oxygen, and the station felt as lifeless as the void around it. They were getting close to the shuttle now, close to the spiral. Deia could feel faint but present, just like she had in Iceland.
“This way,” Deia whispered, gesturing down a dimly lit hallway.
Elias nodded, following closely behind her. They had made it past the initial checkpoints with forged credentials and a heavy dose of luck, but they knew the closer they got to the spiral, the tighter the security would become.
“Do you feel it?” Elias asked quietly, his voice barely audible as they moved down the corridor.
Deia nodded, her eyes scanning the hallway for any sign of guards. “Yeah, it’s faint, but it’s here. I can feel it—like a hum at the edge of my mind.”
Elias frowned. “Do you think you can get us to it?”
Deia bit her lip, her mind racing. “I think so. We’re close. The problem will be getting through whatever security they’ve implemented.”
Elias stopped as they reached a junction, glancing both ways before motioning for her to continue. “We don’t have much time. As soon as they get it to the transport they leave and we lose our best chance to stop them.”
Deia glanced at him, her face tight with frustration. “I know that, Elias. But this isn’t like sneaking into some corporate building. This is a military-grade operation. We can’t just—”
She stopped mid-sentence, her breath catching as they rounded the corner and saw it: the central docking bay, with the transport, not the shuttle, looming large and ominous at the far end. It was sleek, designed for speed, and heavily guarded. Armed personnel stood at every entrance, their rifles slung across their chests. There were at least a dozen of them, and they were checking everyone who came close.
Elias cursed under his breath. “We’re not getting through that. Not without a full team and a lot more firepower.”
Deia clenched her fists, her frustration bubbling over. They were so close, but the spiral was still out of reach. She could feel it now, humming stronger in her mind, calling to her, pulling at her senses. It was already on the transport and there was no way they could get to it without being caught—or worse.
“Dammit,” she muttered, backing up a step and glancing at Elias. “What now? We can’t get past those guards.”
Elias was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning the bay, taking in the security, the layout. “There’s got to be another way. We can’t just give up.”
Deia let out a frustrated breath, leaning against the wall. “I’m open to ideas, Elias because it looks like we’re out of options right now.”
He thought for a moment, then turned to her, his expression serious. “What if we don’t have to get to the spiral? What if we just track it?”
Deia frowned, pushing herself off the wall. “Track it? How?”
“You said you can feel it, right?” Elias asked, his voice low. “Maybe you can keep that connection going even after the transport leaves. If we can’t stop them here, we could intercept them once they’re closer to Mars.”
Deia hesitated, her eyes narrowing as she considered the possibility. “I don’t know if it works like that. I can feel it now because it’s close, but once it’s in space—what if the connection breaks?”
Elias’s face remained calm, but there was a flicker of desperation in his eyes. “We won’t know until we try. But we don’t have any other choice, Deia. If we can’t get to the spiral now, we must have a backup plan.”
Deia’s heart pounded in her chest. The spiral’s pull was getting stronger, like a distant beacon, just out of reach. But what if the connection did break? What if they lost it, and the spiral disappeared into the vastness of space, unreachable and under the control of the elites?
She swallowed hard, nodding reluctantly. “Okay. We try to track it. But if I lose the connection once it leaves the station, we’re screwed. We won’t be able to follow them.”
Elias nodded grimly. “I know. But it’s better than nothing.”
Deia exhaled slowly, steeling herself for what was to come. They needed to get closer to strengthen her connection with the spiral before the transport launched.
“Let’s move,” she said quietly, turning back down the hallway, keeping her head low.
They found a small observation room near the docking bay, tucked away from the leading security points but with a clear view of the transport and its launch preparations. From there, they could see everything—the guards, the technicians loading equipment, and the transport gleaming under the harsh station lights.
Deia stood near the window, her body tense as she stared at the transport. “I can feel it… It’s inside.”
Elias joined her at the window, his voice quiet. “How strong is the connection?”
“Strong enough,” she said, though her voice wavered uncertainly. “But if it gets any further away…”
Elias placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Just focus on it. If we can track it through you, we might have a shot at catching them before they reach Mars.”
Deia closed her eyes, trying to tune out the sounds of the station, the hum of machinery, and the distant voices of the guards. She focused on the spiral—the faint hum in her mind, the pull growing stronger since they’d arrived. It was like a pulse, vibrating just beneath her consciousness.
“It’s there,” she whispered, her brow furrowing. “I can feel it. But it’s fading, Elias. The shuttle’s powering up.”
Elias cursed under his breath, glancing at the launch clock. “We don’t have long.”
The transport’s engines roared to life, and the station shook slightly as the launch sequence began. Deia’s heart raced, the connection slipping further and further away as the transport prepared to leave.
“I’m losing it,” she gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the console in front of her. “It’s pulling away.”
Elias’s eyes darted around the room, his mind racing. “You need to hold on to it, Deia. Just a little longer.”
But as the transport lifted off the platform, its engines glowing with a fiery light, Deia felt the connection snap, like a taut string breaking under too much pressure.
“It’s gone,” she whispered, her eyes flying open. “I can’t feel it anymore.”
Elias stared out the window, watching as the transport disappeared into the darkness of space. They were too late.
“What now?” Deia asked, her voice hollow.
Elias didn’t answer for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the empty sky outside. Finally, he turned to her, his expression grim but resolute.
“We follow it to Mars.”
Deia nodded, her heart sinking. It wasn’t over. Not yet. But the spiral was slipping further away, and their time was running out.
The station loomed ahead, a hulking structure adrift in Mars’ orbit, its dark skeletal frame barely visible against the planet’s rust-red glow. From a distance, it looked dead—another relic from the past, floating in silence, long abandoned like so much of humanity’s expansion. But as Elias and Deia trailed the transport, watching its smooth approach and seamless docking, the truth became undeniable.
This station was alive.
That wasn’t possible. As far as anyone knew, there were no active orbital facilities left around Mars, not since the collapse of Earth’s centralized space operations. Yet here it was, functioning, operational, its docking beacons flashing in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if it had been expecting someone.
The realization sent a shiver down Deia’s spine. “This wasn’t in any records,” she muttered, fingers tightening on the console.
Elias, hunched over the controls, gave a grim nod. “Which means someone doesn’t want it found.”
They watched from the cockpit of their courier ship, engines running low to minimize their signature. The transport had docked with precision, its cargo already being unloaded by figures in pristine flight suits. The operation was quiet, efficient—no wasted movement, no chatter, no sign of disorganization.
“This isn’t a rogue crew,” Deis said under her breath. “This is something else.”
Elias didn’t respond. His focus was on the station’s docking infrastructure, scanning for any section that might be inactive, dark enough to slip into unnoticed. Most of the station’s hubs had power, some flickering with residual maintenance lights. But one docking bay, farther along the station’s hull, sat in complete darkness.
“There,” he said, pointing to the unlit sector. “No power signatures, no movement. If we’re lucky, it’s been sealed off or forgotten.”
Deia didn’t hesitate, guiding the ship toward the dead section of the station, running cold as they approached. The docking clamps were still intact, but the access panel was dark, unresponsive.
“This bay hasn’t been used in years,” Deia whispered as she pulled up the ship’s scanner. No active airlocks, no recent activity—just a dead hub hanging off the side of a very not dead station. “Think you can override it?”
Elias cracked his knuckles, already working through the ship’s interface. “I can try. If it still has an emergency bypass, we’re in luck.”
Minutes passed in tense silence. Outside, the station remained still, indifferent to their presence. Finally, a faint clunk echoed through the ship as the manual docking clamps engaged, followed by a low hiss as the airlock repressurized.
Elias grinned. “We’re in.”
Deia exhaled, her pulse quickening. They’d slipped inside without alerting anyone—at least, not yet.
The interior was as dead as the scanners had promised. The docking bay was cold, unused, the walls coated in layers of dust disturbed only by the faint draft from their entrance. No lights flickered to life. No automated voices welcomed them aboard. If not for the dull hum of distant power flowing through the station’s main structure, it would have felt like they were boarding a ghost station.
Elias secured the airlock behind them while Deia swept her light across the space. The equipment here was old—pre-collapse, maybe even older than that. “This section must have been decommissioned,” she murmured. “Whatever’s keeping this place running, it’s not here.”
“Good,” Elias said. “Means we might have a head start before anyone notices.”
Deia wasn’t so sure. The deeper they moved into the station’s labyrinth of corridors, the stronger the knot in her stomach tightened. The station was supposed to be dead. But it wasn’t.
And the people running it had gone to great lengths to make sure no one knew it still existed.
They were in too deep to turn back now.
“There,” Elias whispered, motioning ahead as they approached a thick, reinforced door. Of course, it was guarded, with two armed soldiers standing at attention, their eyes scanning the narrow hallway. Beyond that door, they knew the spiral was secured, waiting for its final installation in a stealth satellite orbiting Mars.
Deia crouched behind a stack of supply crates, watching the guards closely. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath shallow as she tried to steady herself. “What’s the plan, Elias? There’s no way we’re getting past them without drawing attention.”
Elias didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, sleek device—no bigger than a credit card. It was unremarkable at first glance, but the way he handled it, with reverence made Deia uneasy.
“What is that?” she asked, her voice tight.
Elias held it up, his expression serious. “This… is our last resort.”
Deia stared at the device, her mind racing with possibilities. “What does it do?”
Elias met her gaze, his eyes dark with the weight of the decision he was about to make. “It’s a quantum EMP. It’s a prototype, something I’ve been working on for years. If I can get close enough to the spiral, this should disrupt the bonds that hold it together—decoupling the quantum energy field. Essentially, it’ll destroy the spiral.”
Deia’s breath caught in her throat. “Destroy the spiral? Elias, if you do that, it won’t just disable it—it could wreck the entire station.”
Elias nodded slowly, his face grim. “I know.”
Deia’s mind raced, the enormity of what Elias suggested sinking in. “Are you saying you’re willing to blow up the station? With us on it?”
“If we don’t stop them now, it’s over, Deia. The elites will control it, and everything we’ve fought for will be lost. I’d rather destroy the station than let them have that power.”
Deia shook her head, her pulse quickening. “There’s got to be another way. We can’t just—”
“There’s no other way,” Elias interrupted, his voice low but firm. “We don’t have the manpower or the firepower to steal the spiral, and we’re out of time. This is it. I need to get close enough to deploy the EMP. The shockwave will destabilize the entire station’s systems, but more importantly, it will decouple the spiral. It’ll be unusable. Forever.”
Deia’s eyes widened as the reality of the plan settled over her. “But the people here—the crew, the guards. They’ll all—”
“They’re part of the system keeping the spiral out of reach. They’ve made their choice.” Elias’s voice was cold, resolute.
Deia’s throat tightened. “And what about me, Elias? What about you? You think you’re walking away from this?”
Elias turned to her, his expression softening for just a moment. “You don’t need to be a part of this. That’s why I need you to go back to the ship. Now.”
Deia blinked, disbelief flooding her. “You’re telling me just to leave? You think I can walk away knowing what’s about to happen?”
Elias reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Deia, I’ve been preparing for this. My whole life has led to this moment. But you—you don’t need to stay. Get back to the ship, and make sure it’s ready. If things go wrong, you need to escape try something else.”
Deia stared at him, her mind reeling. “Try what else? And do you think I’m just going to leave you here to die?”
“You’re not leaving me,” Elias said quietly, his voice calm but urgent. “You’re ensuring that someone survives this. That someone’s still out there to carry on the fight, and I don’t know how. It doesn’t matter how, it just matters that you will be there to try.”
Her jaw tightened as she looked away, trying to blink back the sting of frustration and fear. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end, not like this.
“I’m not leaving you,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “You’re going to set that thing off, and we’re getting out of here together.”
Elias shook his head, his eyes soft but determined. “I can’t guarantee that, Deia. If I’m not fast enough—if the guards catch on—there won’t be time for us to return to the ship.”
Deia’s hands clenched into fists, anger and helplessness swirling inside her. She knew he was right. If the station went down, it would happen fast. Too fast.
“Elias…” Her voice cracked, and she hated the sound of it, the vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want to lose you.”
He smiled faintly, a sad, tired smile. “You won’t. I promise.”
Deia’s heart twisted painfully in her chest, but she accepted the pretty lie. “Fine. But you better make it back.”
Elias gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before returning to the device. “I will. Now, go. Get to the ship.”
Deia hesitated momentarily, her body rooted in place by the weight of what was about to happen. But then she turned, slipping quietly back down the corridor. Each step felt heavier than the last, the knowledge that Elias was staying behind tearing at her.
She ducked into the shadows, making her way toward the docking bay. Her mind was a storm of emotions—fear, anger, sorrow—but she forced herself to focus. Elias needed her to be ready. Just in case, the ship had to be prepped for a quick getaway.
Deia’s hand lingered on the control panel as she reached the docking bay, her thoughts still with Elias.
“Don’t you dare get yourself killed, Elias,” she whispered under her breath, a silent prayer to the void.
She entered the ship, her hands trembling as she powered up the systems. Her eyes darted back toward the station, knowing Elias was walking into danger alone.
Outside, the stars remained cold and distant.
Deia sat in the courier’s pilot seat, her fingers gripping the controls. The hum of the ship’s systems filled the silence, but in her mind, the presence of something else—the faint, familiar presence of the spiral—unnerved her most. She had felt it for so long now, an undercurrent in the back of her mind, always there, like a quiet hum in the distance.
Suddenly, a strange pressure built up in her chest. It was initially subtle, like the feeling you get before a storm rolls in. Her breath caught, and she leaned forward, her heart racing. And then, just as suddenly, the pressure vanished.
The hum was gone. The connection was gone. The spiral was gone.
Deia’s heart sank, her breath coming in quick gasps. “No…” she whispered, her voice hoarse with disbelief. “Elias…”
She had felt it—whatever Elias had done, it had worked. The EMP had severed the bond. She couldn’t feel the spiral anymore, not like before. There was nothing but silence in her head, an emptiness she hadn’t anticipated.
But then, as she sat there, her mind whirling, something stirred.
It wasn’t the same hum as before, not the constant, ever-present connection. This was different—faint, almost invisible. It wasn’t a sound or thought but more of a feeling—a presence.
Deia straightened in her seat, her skin prickling. Her heart pounded, and for a moment, she thought she was imagining it. But it grew stronger and clearer until she could almost hear it, not in her ears but in the back of her mind.
It’s still here.
The spiral hadn’t been destroyed. It was still alive—in a way she couldn’t fully understand.
And then, impossibly, she felt something else. A kind of apology. Not in words, but in emotion—a sense of regret, of sorrow. And with it came the knowledge that the spiral knew. It had known that she cared about Elias and hadn’t wanted to lose him.
Deia gasped, her eyes widening. “Elias…”
She shot up from the seat, her heart racing as she rushed toward the ship’s exit. If the spiral was still intact or feeling things, then maybe Elias had failed. Maybe there was still time to save him.
She sprinted through the narrow corridor, her thoughts a whirlwind of hope and panic. The connection with the spiral was still there—weak, but there. She could still feel it, even though it had vanished for a brief moment.
As she reached the airlock, alarms began blaring throughout the station, loud and dissonant, cutting through the silence like a blade. The walls around her shuddered slightly, and she could hear the distant thrum of engines powering up. Something was happening—something big.
“Damn it!” Deia cursed, stopping dead in her tracks. She was too late. The station was coming apart.
Her heart pounded as she whirled around, knowing she had no time left. She had to get back to the ship. The station wasn’t safe, not anymore.
She ran back the way she came, the alarms growing louder and more urgent. Her mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what was happening. The spiral had done something—it had felt her. And Elias… Elias was gone.
When she reached the docking bay, her stomach dropped. Through the viewport, she saw the transport—the transport carrying the spiral—detach from the station. It drifted briefly before igniting its engines and shooting off into space, heading straight for Mars.
“No!” Deia shouted, slamming her fist against the console. She watched in helpless frustration as the transport disappeared into the void, taking the spiral with it.
She knew, then, what had happened.
Elias was gone.
He had triggered the EMP and succeeded in destabilizing the station, but the spiral had survived. And the elites had wasted no time—while she had been waiting there, they had taken the spiral and fled. Mars was their destination, so the stealth satellite must have been destroyed. They were already on their way.
Deia’s chest tightened, a wave of grief crashing over her. Elias had sacrificed himself. He had given her the chance to escape and fight another day.
But now, there was no turning back.
Deia turned and rushed into the cockpit, dove for the seat, and buckled in. The thrusters firing filled the cabin, and the ship shuddered as it undocked from the station.
There was only one option now—follow the elites, intercept the transport, and finish what Elias had started. The spiral couldn’t fall into their hands now or ever.
As the ship roared into the cold expanse of space, Deia stared ahead, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Elias was gone, but his sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.
“Hang on, Elias,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m going to finish this.”
The stars stretched out before her, endless and unforgiving, as she raced toward Mars.
The ship hummed softly around her, its engines pushing them through the cold, silent expanse of space. Deia sat alone in the cockpit, her hands loosely gripping the controls as the distant red glow of Mars flickered on the edge of the console’s display. The journey would take hours, but the quiet gave her time to think—time she wasn’t sure she wanted.
Elias was gone. The thought sat heavy in her chest, a weight she couldn’t shake. The man who had been her mentor, her partner in this impossible fight, had sacrificed himself to destroy the spiral, yet it hadn’t worked. They were no closer to stopping the elites than before, and now she was alone, hurtling toward Mars with no real a plan.
Her mind drifted back to Iceland. The cold air biting at her skin, the sense of danger that had followed her every step as they sneaked through the fortress. She had been scared then, but not like this. Elias had been with her—solid, steady. She could rely on him. Now, the only presence she felt was the faint echo of the spiral itself, lingering at the edge of her consciousness like a distant hum. It felt… alive in a way she couldn’t explain, and the strange, almost apologetic connection she had felt earlier only deepened her unease.
It knew.
The spiral had felt her pain, her fear. It had apologized, as if it understood the cost of what she was losing—as if it was somehow complicit in Elias’s death. Deia shivered at the thought. The artifact wasn’t just a tool—it was something more. Something with a will of its own.
What are you? she thought, staring out at the stars. No answer came, of course, just the steady, distant hum she had learned to live with since touching the original spiral all those years ago. She had thought it was simply a side effect of the energy—some kind of resonance from the artifact’s power. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Elias had always believed the spiral was a means to control, but maybe it had its own desires, its own plan. Deia leaned back in her seat, staring at the void beyond the ship. What if all of this—the spirals, the models, the elites’ obsession with immortality—was part of something bigger? Something none of them had fully understood?
She thought of Sam, the way she had fallen in that corridor, fighting to protect them. Gone before they could even try to save her with the spiral. The memory hit Deia like a punch to the gut. They had all been fighting so hard for so long, yet, at every turn, it felt like they were losing more than they were gaining.
Her fingers tightened on the controls. What now, Elias? she thought, her eyes shimmering with tears she refused to let fall. What am I supposed to do now?
Mars loomed ahead, still distant but growing larger with each passing minute. She wasn’t ready for what was waiting there. She didn’t have a plan and didn’t know how she would stop the elites from locking away the spiral. They had resources and power, and she was just one person in a stolen ship, racing against time.
She had no allies, no backup. But Elias had trusted her. He had believed in her.
“I won’t let them win,” she muttered under her breath, her voice harsh in the quiet of the cockpit. “I can’t.”
The stars outside seemed colder now, more distant. Deia wondered how many other lives had been lost to this fight—how many had been consumed by the elites’ endless hunger for power. The spirals had once been a beacon of hope, a way to heal, to save lives. But like everything powerful, they had been twisted, manipulated into something that could control the masses, and now it was on her to stop that.
She thought of the people back on Earth—the poor families who relied on the spirals just to survive, the ones whose models had stopped working when the original spiral neared Mars. The panic that must be spreading through the streets, the desperation in the faces of those who had once clung to the spirals as their only lifeline.
They didn’t deserve this. None of them did.
Deia let out a long breath, her chest tight with the weight of everything she had lost and everything she still stood to lose. But she wasn’t going to turn back. Mars was ahead and her last chance to make things right. Elias had given his life for this; she wouldn’t let it be for nothing.
“I’ll finish this, Elias,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the engines. “I’ll stop them.”
As she settled back into the seat, her eyes locked on the distant glow of Mars, the faint hum of the spiral brushed against the edge of her consciousness once more. It wasn’t as strong as before, but it was still there—a reminder that the artifact, for all its power, wasn’t done yet.
Deia closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the spiral’s presence as she hurtled through the void. It had brought them to this point, but she was the one who would have to see it through.
Whatever the spiral wanted, whatever it was, she would be the one to make the final call. And when she reached Mars, she would face the elites and find a way to stop them. Or die trying.
It’s almost over.
The courier shuddered violently as the first round of fire hit its hull. Deia’s hands gripped the controls as alarms blared, red lights flashing throughout the cockpit. The view outside the window showed Mars growing closer, the massive dome of the elites’ stronghold looming in the distance. But her thoughts were interrupted as the second round of fire tore through the ship’s engine, sending her spiraling.
Deia barely had time to brace herself as the courier exploded in a blinding flash of light. For a moment, everything was chaos—the sound of tearing metal, a brief crush of intense pressure, then the silent vacuum of space. There was a deep thrumming, and she felt the spiral far below reach her.
She blinked, floating weightlessly in the darkness, debris from the courier tumbling around her. The alarms were gone, the courier was gone, falling to Mars in fiery chunks.
But Deia was… fine?
She didn’t feel any pain, didn’t feel the pull of the vacuum around her. She felt nothing at all—just a strange sense of calm, as though she were standing in the quietest room in the world.
She looked down, and to her shock, she wasn’t in the courier. She was floating through the void, the surface of Mars far below, slowly rising to meet her. Her suit’s visor had cracked, but she wasn’t gasping for air. She didn’t feel the crushing cold of space or the burning heat of reentry.
She was fine. Better than fine, even.
The spiral. It had to be the spiral.
The faint connection she had felt before and the strange pull it had on her was strong now, like a constant whisper in the back of her mind. It hadn’t just saved her; it had changed her.
With eerie calm, Deia found herself drifting down toward the Martian surface as if gravity itself had forgotten about her. She was impossibly light, floating gently through the thin atmosphere, down, down, until her feet touched the dusty red tarmac outside the shuttle port.
She landed softly, the weight of her body returning as if it had never left. The courier’s destruction was spread out around her—flaming wreckage and twisted metal. She only glanced at it before gazing toward the massive dome ahead, her destination.
In the distance, she saw movement. A dozen figures in suits were running toward her from the airlock of the dome—armed guards, no doubt, alerted by the explosion.
Deia stood still, watching them approach. Her breathing was steady, her heart calm. She felt no fear, only a sense of inevitability. Whatever had happened to her in that explosion had left her… different, untouchable.
The guards reached her just as she took her first step toward the dome. The leader, clearly panicking, raised his weapon and shouted something, though she couldn’t hear him through the vacuum of her damaged suit. She saw his hands trembling as he aimed at her.
And then, without warning, he fired.
The bullet ripped through the thin air and struck her chest. Deia felt a faint impact but no pain. She looked down, watching with detached curiosity as the bullet passed through her body, leaving no wound, no mark—nothing.
She looked back up at the guard, her expression calm.
The guard’s eyes widened in terror, his face pale as he stumbled backward, fumbling with his weapon. Seeing what had happened, the other guards hesitated, their guns still raised but wavering.
Deia took another step forward, her calm gaze never leaving the guards.
The others lowered their weapons, their faces showing confusion and fear. They didn’t stop her as she walked toward the massive dome; their panic quickly turned to stunned disbelief.
No one moved to block her path.
She approached the airlock, the heavy metal doors looming before her. The guards stood frozen behind her, their weapons still at their sides, watching her with wide eyes. Deia barely glanced at them as she reached out and pressed the control panel.
The doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Deia stepped inside, the airlock lights casting a pale glow on her suit. She could feel the tension in the air, the weight of their eyes on her as she cycled through the lock. She felt the familiar pressure of the atmosphere returning, her ears popping slightly, but still, there was no pain, no discomfort.
As the inner doors slid open, she stepped into the massive, sterile interior of the dome. The air was thick, warm, and oddly artificial. It felt strange after the silent vacuum, but she didn’t mind.
She had made it.
Deia stood there momentarily, breathing in the recycled air, feeling the faint hum of the spiral at the edge of her consciousness. The connection was stronger now, almost as though the spiral was aware of her and what she had become.
And no one had stopped her.
She wasn’t sure what had happened to her body—whether it was the spiral’s doing or something else entirely—but she felt powerful. Invincible. She was ready for whatever was waiting for her inside the dome, whatever the elites had planned for the spiral.
She had come too far to stop now.
Author’s note: Thank you for continuing to read my story. Your thoughts and suggestions at this point are very welcome, so leave me a comment, positive or negative! The final chapter is “The Untouchable“.
J. Carlo Vegas 
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