Huddled within an alcove along the mountainside, I eased down the side of the opening, letting the cool, damp air wrap around me like a blanket. It seeped into my skin, easing the relentless burn the day’s heat had left behind. Somewhere deeper in the cavern, water dripped at uneven intervals, each drop echoing like a reminder that time was still moving, even if it felt like we weren’t.

That night, we gathered to honor Ethan’s memory. His name, carved carefully into a smooth stone, now rested against the cavern wall. It wasn’t much. Just a rock with a name. A placeholder for a grave we couldn’t give him…

No one spoke at first. What could we possibly say? Words wouldn’t pull him back, and they wouldn’t stop the next death from coming. The quiet stretched, heavy and suffocating, but no one dared to cut through it.

I stood there, staring at the stone, waiting for… something. Sadness. Anger. Anything. But nothing came. Not like it did for the others, their heads bowed, shoulders drawn tight. I couldn’t tell if what they carried was grief or simple hopelessness, but whatever it was, it felt heavy. Mine, though… I don’t know. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to grieve for him.

Instead, my thoughts kept circling the same pit I’d been falling into since we got here: What happens to the last of us? When it comes down to one person. Whether that’s me or someone else… what’s left? Do they just sit and wait? Keep going until they can’t? Is there even a point?

I caught myself calculating in my head. Days? Weeks? Maybe years if we’re lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how you see it. The thought made my stomach twist. I didn’t know which answer I wanted.

“…so let’s prepare what we can.” Amelia’s voice cut clean through the spiral, the way a sudden light breaks a dream. I realized I’d missed half of what she’d been saying. She was standing straighter now, jaw set, her tone sharp with purpose.

She turned to Henry first. "Keep the equipment running. I don’t care how bad it gets, find a way."

"Owen, make sure our gear stays in working order. If a bag breaks, we can’t afford to toss it aside. Fix it."

She met Emily’s uncertain gaze. "Do what you can with the communicators. Even if it feels like a lost cause, try. We need to know if there’s even the slightest chance of contact."

Her eyes landed on Ella next. "See what you can find in the terrain. I know there's water, so collect it, and if you find anything else, let me know."

With a nod toward Benjamin, she added, "Dr. Benjamin, you keep us healthy. If anyone so much as coughs the wrong way, I want to know about it."

Finally, she turned to me. "Atlas, you're on first watch."

I nodded.

As the others settled in for the night, I took my position near the entrance of the alcove, my back pressed against the cool stone. The alien landscape stretched before me, bathed in the eerie light of the twin suns as they dipped lower in the sky. Jagged rocks cast elongated shadows across the sand, and as the temperature steadily dropped, the heat of the day was replaced by a crisp chill as the steady mist began to flow down from the mountainside and out into the expanse of the desert. 

It was a relief to know that this was where the mist came from, but a strange stillness clung to the air, almost too quiet. No distant echoes, no shifting wind. It set my nerves on edge. After the creature eventually gave up and drifted back into the sands, the silence that followed felt wrong in every way, like there should be something in the shadows but never showed itself. 

After a while, Owen approached, his exhaustion evident in the way he rubbed his face. I met his tired gaze and gave him a small nod. “Wake me if anything feels off,” I muttered before stepping past him and retreating into the alcove.

I eased down onto the stone, never allowing myself to fully relax, resting in that space between sleep and wakefulness—the kind where your body remains aware, ready to snap to attention at the first sign of danger, but never truly getting sleep.

The night passed without incident. Just the steady drip of water echoing in the cave and the occasional gust of wind brushing against the rock. 

Eventually, the soft light of the rising suns seeped into the alcove, pushing back the shadows. The others stirred, groggy but alive. As I sat up, Benjamin made his way over to take the next watch, nodding silently. I stepped aside.

The cave stayed quiet, save for the occasional shuffle as the others stretched and readied themselves for the day. I found a smooth, flat rock near the back of the alcove and sat down, pulling my knife free. I grimaced at the state of the blade—its edge pitted with chips and dents from all the improvised uses we’d put it through. This is going to take a while to fix.

With a sigh, I set to work. The steady, rasping scrape of metal against stone filled the silence, each pass of the blade dragging my thoughts along with it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Amelia watching me, her expression unreadable. She lingered for a second before stepping forward, her voice cutting through the morning silence.

"We need to assess our situation," she began, her tone measured. "Our resources are limited, and we also can't ignore the possibility that the missing colony might have ended up in a similar situation."

I slid my blade along the stone one last time before sheathing it and standing, ready for whatever came next.

Benjamin’s brows furrowed, his expression heavy with thought. "But if they’ve faced the same challenges as us, their chances of survival are slim."

Ella, her mind already working through possibilities, spoke up. "Before we make any decisions, we need to understand this place better. We should get a clearer picture of our surroundings."

I met her gaze. "How do you suggest we do that?"

She turned her attention to the towering mountains ahead. "We climb. From a higher vantage point, we might spot something useful. Maybe signs of life, or the colony."

I liked the idea; getting a better vantage point would be the most helpful thing to do at the moment. However, my word alone wouldn't be enough to get everyone to agree. But my concerns were for nothing. 

Amelia didn’t hesitate. "Let’s do it."