Astra-9 vibrated as its engines shifted into a deeper, more dangerous resonance. The soft blue glow of standard propulsion darkened into a violent violet hue—the color of spacetime being forced to bend against its own will.
They had committed.
The course was set.
The Refracted Star.
Orion stood at the central navigation platform, hands hovering over the controls, feeling the faint hum of the Signal beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. Every pulse of the engines echoed inside his skull.
Lyra watched him from across the deck, fear written plainly on her face.
Rhea's voice rang out, firm and clear:
"All departments, this is Commander Rhea. We are entering restricted physics space. Expect gravitational inversion, temporal shear, and possible causality drift. Lock down all nonessential systems. We jump in sixty seconds."
Around the bridge, crew members tightened harnesses, sealed panels, and ran final diagnostics. Even veterans moved with restrained urgency—the kind that came only when there were no backups left.
Rowan's voice crackled over comms.
"Engineering locked. If this ship takes more than thirty percent temporal strain, I can't guarantee we'll come back in one piece."
Solven replied calmly:
"Statistically speaking, we were never guaranteed that anyway."
Rowan shot him a look."Not helping."
Kessler appeared beside Orion with a floating display of equations twisting in midair.
"These are the physics parameters inside the Star's influence," she said quickly. "They violate at least twelve foundational constants. Gravity becomes directionless. Time becomes probabilistic. Mass fluctuates with observation."
Orion swallowed.
"So… normal rules are optional."
"Convenient summary," she said dryly.
Vale stood near the observation window, cloak-like shadows folding around him as the stars ahead stretched into bright, elongated lines.
"You all should understand something," he said quietly. "There are parts of this mission the physics team cannot model."
Rhea turned to him."Such as?"
Vale's gaze didn't waver.
"What happens to consciousness inside refracted spacetime."
A subtle chill passed through the bridge.
Lyra stepped closer to Orion.
"What does that mean for him?"
Vale met her eyes.
"It means Orion may not experience this linearly. He may see pasts that never happened. Futures that never will. He may not come back as the same person."
Orion gave a faint, humorless smile.
"At this point, I think that ship sailed."
The countdown flickered on the main display:
09:22:40:13
Rhea raised her hand.
"Ready for jump."
A deep vibration rolled through Astra-9 as spacetime ahead of them folded inward. The stars compressed into a blazing tunnel of warped light. Invisible forces crushed against the hull as though the universe itself were resisting their passage.
Rowan's voice tensed.
"Temporal pressure rising—ten percent—twenty—thirty—"
Hull plating groaned.
Deck gravity lurched sideways, then upward, then vanished entirely.
Lyra grabbed Orion as they lifted inches from the floor.
"Gravity just turned into a suggestion!"
Orion's vision doubled as the Infinity mark in his mind flared with blistering heat. For a terrifying moment, he wasn't on the bridge.
He was somewhere else.
Standing inside a burning corridor of white light.
A whisper slid across his consciousness:
You are approaching the wound.
Then reality snapped back.
"Forty percent strain!" Rowan shouted. "If this spikes any higher—"
"Hold it," Rhea snapped. "We're almost through."
The tunnel of warped stars narrowed—
Then collapsed outward in a violent flash.
Silence slammed into them.
Gravity returned in a bone-jarring surge.
Orion collapsed to one knee, coughing.
Slowly, the stars outside came back into focus.
But the view was no longer familiar.
Ahead of them burned the Refracted Star.
It was enormous—far too large for its measured mass. Its surface wasn't fire but layered, rotating geometries of radiant light. Its corona fractured into multi-colored spirals that bent backward into themselves. Each pulse sent ripples through the surrounding void, like a stone dropped into the fabric of existence.
Lyra whispered in awe and terror:
"It looks alive."
Kessler whispered back:
"It's not alive. It's wounded."
Vale stepped forward, eyes locked on the impossible star.
"This is the boundary," he said quietly. "Beyond this, causality collapses. Archive Zero lies within that collapse."
Rhea straightened, voice steady.
"All hands. We've arrived in dark physics space. From this point on, every decision matters twice—once here, and once somewhere else we'll never see."
Orion stared at the burning fractal sun, the Infinity mark burning in his mind in perfect synchronization with its pulse.
He felt it now.
The pull.
The call.
The place where everything had started.
And the place where everything would end—if he failed.
The countdown ticked again:
09:22:31:06
The Refracted Star pulsed brighter.
As if it had finally recognized him.