We left Earth chasing answers.
Built ships. Built silence.
Nobody talked about God anymore—not after we made our own stars.
By the time we crossed Neptune, faith was just a story your grandparents told.
Then the scanners picked up something impossible—a wall of light.
No stars behind it.
No signal through it.
Just... stillness.
Command said it was radiation.
I said it looked like a sunrise.
We sent a probe.
It disappeared.
Then came back, whispering through static—
"You've come far enough."
The pilot laughed.
"Yeah? Who's talking?"
Pause.
Then a voice—warm, human.
"The One you left behind."
Every light on the ship went out.
Engines. Screens... Silence
Outside, the stars burned brighter.
And for a heartbeat, I could have sworn I saw them move—like they were bowing.