That evening, the group sat together, voices low and strained. They formed a rotation for guard duty. Those who weren't watching curled into bunks, some sleeping uneasily in their suits, others staring wide-eyed at the alien looking ceiling.
Jalen, ever restless, broke the silence once, trying to lift the mood. "Hey, at least we've got food. Could be worse—we could be working on empty stomachs."
Kira smirked faintly, shaking her head. "Yeah. Poisoned food. Real comfort."
"Then I'll die full. Better than hungry," Jalen shot back, earning a few tired chuckles.
But as night deepened, the walls seemed to press closer, shadows stretching longer.
Sometime past midnight, the watchers—Alexei, Xavier, and Kaito—noticed it first.
Xavier narrowed his eyes at the window. "Do you see that?"
Outside, a haze drifted across the grounds. Thick. Unnatural. It was not dust. Not fog.
Smoke.
It slithered like a living thing, curling and coiling across the wasteland, spreading fast toward the building.
Alexei's soldier's instincts flared instantly. His voice was a barked command, sharp enough to jolt the others awake. "On your feet! Everyone up, now!"
The runners bolted upright as Xavier and Kaito shook the sleepers. Panic surged through the dimly lit room.
"What is it?!" Sera demanded, gripping a broken chair leg like a weapon.
"The smoke—look!" Kaito pointed, his voice tight.
The darkness outside was gone, swallowed by a rolling tide of thick purple vapor pressing against the walls.
"It's… It's coming inside," Elira whispered in horror as tendrils of smoke slithered through cracks in the barricades. They curled under doors, seeped through shattered vents, and bled from shifting seams in the alien roof.
Nyah clamped her sleeve over her mouth, eyes wide. "How? The walls are sealed!"
But sealed or not, the smoke crept in like a predator, filling every gap, every breath of space.
The air turned heavy. Acrid. Chemical. It stung their lungs, burned their throats.
Jalen staggered, coughing violently. "Hold your breath! Don't—don't breathe it in!"
But it was too late.
One by one, their knees buckled.
Theo collapsed first, his rhythm cut short. Then Elira, then Sera.
Amara tried to shout, her voice muffled by the thick haze. Kaito reached for her, his hand trembling, before his body dropped limp beside hers.
Alexei fought longest, his frame shuddering with resistance, but even he crumpled at last, defeated.
The smoke thickened, swallowing the light, pressing shadows into nothingness.
The last thing they all saw was the glow of the walls fading to black.
And then—silence.
Darkness claimed them all.
Silence gripped the air, broken only by the faint rustle of wind sweeping through the ruined streets, carrying with it dry leaves and scattered debris.
The runners lay sprawled across the ground like corpses, their grey uniforms dusted over with a thin layer of grit.
Alexei stirred first.
His body shifted weakly as he tried to rise, though his movements were sluggish, his mind still clouded. The events of the night before had not yet returned to him. A sudden gust swept dust into his face, and his eyes fluttered open.
"What? Why am I on the ground? How did this happen? Wasn't I just…? Did I sleepwalk?"
The thought barely formed before his body tensed. His chest heaved as memories surged back in a rush. Panic followed. His head pounded, pain tearing through his skull like a blade.
"Ahh—my head, it hurts… it hurts so bad," he groaned, clutching his temple.
For a moment, the world spun into fractured shapes, a blur of shadow and light. He forced his eyes open, and slowly his vision cleared.
The smoke—the same smoke that had swallowed them whole—was gone. The walls of the building had vanished. They were somewhere else entirely.
"No… not again," he muttered. "Where am I now?"
Turning his head, he saw the others scattered nearby, still unconscious.
"Get up. Get up, guys!" he shouted, his voice breaking through the silence as he tried to rouse them.
They stirred sluggishly, their bodies slow to respond. Alexei reached for Theo, who was closest, patting him roughly on the side.
"Come on! Wake up! We don't have time for this." His voice rose to a yell. "Have you completely forgotten about last night? The aliens!"
His words struck like a whip.
The others jerked awake, groaning and clutching their heads as memories slammed into them with the same sharp pain Alexei had endured.
"So, now you decide to get up," Alexei said with a grim smile that held no humor. "Get your wits together. We're in serious trouble."
They recovered quickly, though questions and complaints tumbled out of them all at once. Their voices overlapped in frantic tones, each demanding answers that did not exist.
Then silence returned as their eyes turned outward, taking in the terrain.
They were in a city.
Buildings crowded tightly together, perfectly aligned in grid-like order, though every one of them stood shattered. Debris littered the streets—broken concrete, rusted metal, corroded cars with doors torn open, shattered street lamps, many half-buried beneath the earth. Trees had forced their way through cracks in the asphalt, and bushes had overgrown sidewalks and courtyards.
It was a capital, perhaps. Or at least it had been. Now it was nothing but ruins.
Elira stood still, her eyes wide with disbelief, her thoughts sinking to her daughter. Her voice shook. "I thought we had only been abducted… but it looks like the invasion is over. Everyone is gone." She turned toward Xavier, desperation in her gaze. "How much time has passed?"
Xavier's expression hardened. He hesitated only a moment before answering. "About a hundred years. Closer to two hundred. I wasn't sure before… but I am now."
The truth was worse. Two hundred and seventy-six years had passed since the invasion. Time was nothing to the Vexari, who lived for millennia. They had waited patiently, as they always did, for the perfect time to begin their hunts.
The hunts had started fifteen years ago. Two years earlier, runners from this same ranch had attempted escape. All had died—except for one, who had somehow slipped through the defenses and vanished into the wild.
Elira broke down. Tears streamed as her voice cracked, her daughter's name spilling from her lips in despair. She couldn't hold it in any longer. It was the worst possible time to unravel, but grief devoured her.
Others who had once clung to family broke as well, voices choking with sobs, hearts buckling under the weight of loss. Some tried to console them, though their own despair was just as raw.
The sound of their cries carried through the ruins.
And it drew them.
Two Trophy Hunters.
From the top of a tall building, they arrived—figures of nightmare. One crouched, tentacles flaring in excitement, a spear in hand. The other gripped a long pole tipped with a massive axe.
The first leaped.
In less than a heartbeat, he dropped from the height, crashing into the center of the runners. The force of his landing was a gust of wind that knocked several off balance.
His spear arced through the air and found Elira.
She had been on the ground, still weeping, too lost in despair to react.
The strike pierced her cleanly. Blood gushed from her wound as the spear was pulled free, spilling across her chest and from her mouth. She gasped, choking, trying to speak through the flood.
"Ruh… Ruh… rh…"
She collapsed before she could finish the word. But everyone knew what she had meant.
Run.