Forgotten Stars

Anxiety gnawed at the Voss family’s main chamber like toxic smoke. The room’s dimmed lights—intended to soothe—now cast eerie shadows on the black wood walls. Evelyn stood before a five‑meter panoramic window, her fingers clutching the holographic curtain that projected an ever‐reddening Novae sky. The digital image revealed plumes of black smoke billowing from District Xanthe while new meteor fragments continued to pelt the atmosphere.

“We can’t keep hiding behind these shields,” she whispered, her voice nearly drowned out by the unstable drone of the cooling system.

Across the room, Benedict sat on a luxurious black leather sofa, his body slumped as if burdened by double gravity. The crystal table before him was cluttered with holographic phones, damage reports, and an untouched glass of whiskey. His fingers danced over a portable control interface as he attempted yet again to contact Sophia Laurent. Each time the holographic screen flashed “Connection Rejected” in blazing red, the veins along his temple tensed further.

“Sophia’s stalling,” he muttered, hurling the device onto the sofa so that it bounced on the synthetic wool carpet. His voice was hoarse, and an unusual weariness marred his usually controlled expression. “She knows we’re cornered—but she’d rather be a rat, hiding in her hole.”

Evelyn turned, her black silk dress whispering softly as she moved. Her eyes—normally so serene—now burned like embers, ready to ignite against injustice. “You think she’s the only rat here? Look at us. We’re hiding in this tower while the city outside…” Her voice faltered as the window hologram abruptly switched to drone footage: a group of citizens running through the streets, battered by shockwaves from a new meteor.

Benedict rose, his black suit rumpled. With heavy steps he approached the window. “I didn’t build this tower to hide. I built it to protect—protect all of you.” His hand trembled as he pressed a button on the wall, switching the window projection to a 3D map of the city’s damage. Red dots flickered along the eastern perimeter.

Evelyn reached out, touching her husband’s arm—a touch that, once warm, now felt cold with perspiration. “You can’t control everything, Benedict. Even the Quantum Shield is starting to crack. What’s the point of protecting this tower if the whole planet crumbles?”

The room vibrated softly as a distant explosion rumbled. Crystal lights in the ceiling tinkled gently. In one corner, an abstract metal sculpture—an heirloom from Elijah’s grandfather and a symbol of VOSS Industries’ former glory—fell with a deep, resonant crash.

“We need everyone in the lobby. Now.”

Suddenly, Elijah appeared from behind a sliding door. His face was pale, his blonde hair tousled. The crescent pendant around his neck glowed unnaturally, reflecting the red light from outside. “Dad… there’s something inside that meteor. I saw it on the broadcast before it cut off—”

“Not now, Elijah!” Benedict snapped, his tone gruff.

Evelyn swiftly enveloped her son in a tight embrace. “You should be in the safe room—”

“Safe room?” Elijah scoffed, stepping back. “The glass there is all shattered! I’m not a kid anymore!”

Benedict fixed his gaze on his son. For the first time, he saw in Elijah’s eyes a reflection of his own youthful defiance—repressed rebellion, fear masked by anger. “Alright,” he sighed, retrieving a decorative sword from the wall. Its vibranium blade gleamed blue, and the hilt was etched with the same crescent moon symbol as Elijah’s pendant. “But you follow every order I give. Understand?”

Elijah nodded, his grip on the pendant tightening.

Down on the ground floor—once magnificent with crystal lights and marble floors—the space now resembled an emergency battleground. Red emergency lights flashed, casting long shadows of uniformed personnel brandishing plasma weapons. Crowe, the security manager, knelt beside a wounded member of Team Bravo. His combat helmet was cracked near the temple, his face streaked with sweat and dust. One team member cried out as an emergency bandage, soaked in blood, was hastily applied to his arm.

“Status of the team?!” Benedict bellowed, his voice nearly lost amid the blare of sirens and the rumble of explosions.

“The eastern perimeter is completely down!” Crowe replied, pressing a device on his wrist. A small holographic screen displayed drone footage: swarms of creatures darting along the defense trench, tearing apart trapped personnel. “They need backup, but we’re running low—”

‘BRUUKKK!’

The sound shook the tower, and cracks snaked across the ceiling. On the security screens, a meteor the size of a cargo plane slammed into the ground only fifty meters from the complex. The Quantum Shield quivered violently, sending out waves of blue energy in every direction. The lobby’s glass shattered like a spider’s web, scattering crystalline fragments across the floor.

“Hold your ground! Hold!” Benedict shouted, though his commands were swallowed by the rising panic.

Three humanoid figures leapt from the meteor crater. Their skin was like cracked basalt, with fissures that glowed like molten orange magma. The tallest—a bipedal creature with a three‑meter spiked tail—swiped its natural metallic claws at the energy shield. ZZZT! Blue sparks erupted as two personnel were flung against the wall.

“Fire! Aim for the cracks!” Crowe cried, firing plasma shots at the creature. The lasers struck its body, leaving only scorched, blackened lines.

Elijah stood frozen near the lift door, his breath shallow. Before him, a young officer—no older than twenty—was being dragged by a slender, tentacled claw. His steel armor crumpled like paper, and blood spurted from his torn shoulder. “H‑HELP!” he screamed, only to be silenced as the tentacle coiled around his neck.

“Close combat weapons!” Benedict roared, drawing his vibranium sword. Its blade shimmered blue as he charged at a basalt-skinned foe, plunging his weapon into a fissure along its armor. A thick, greenish fluid sprayed forth, emitting the stench of rotten sulfur. The monster shrieked and collapsed.

Benedict stole a glance toward the window—where the looming silhouette of another massive creature reappeared, its metallic claws etching scars on the exterior wall. Its approach cut through the air like a screeching nail on a chalkboard. He swallowed hard before turning back to Evelyn and Elijah, his normally steely face now fractured with emotion.

“Crowe,” he said softly, his tone unexpectedly gentle as he looked at both Evelyn and Elijah, “get them to the bunker. Only them.”

Evelyn bit her lip until it bled. “No. We’re not leaving without you.” She clutched Benedict’s arm, her nails digging into his suit.

Benedict slowly released her grip, his hand trembling. “If I leave, who will lead? VOSS Industries is the last shield protecting this city… protecting you both.”

Elijah stepped forward, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But Dad, we need you! The bunker, the company… it means nothing if—”

“Elijah!” Benedict interrupted, his voice suddenly rough, but then he reached out and gripped his son’s shoulder tightly, as if afraid to let him go. “Listen. When you were born premature, the doctors said you wouldn’t last a week. But your mother and I fought. I overhauled the entire corporate medical system to build an incubator that saved you.” His voice wavered. “Now, I must fight again. To give you a world worth inheriting.”

Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. “You always do this—sacrificing yourself for some ‘legacy,’ forgetting that your greatest legacy is right here!” She pulled Elijah close so that the three of them formed a tight circle—a nearly broken family.

From a corner in the lobby, a young guard choked back sobs, while others lowered their heads, ashamed to witness such vulnerability.

Benedict gently wiped away Evelyn’s tears with his thumb. “Listen, Ev. The bunker is the only safe haven I built—as a last resort—to protect you. I just checked it from the control room; for now, no meteors are falling there.”

Elijah clutched his crescent pendant so tightly that the metal left marks on his palm. “I don’t want to inherit anything if you’re not here!”

Benedict flinched. For the first time in his life, he pulled Elijah into a tight embrace—the scent of engine oil and oud wood enveloping him. “You’ve been my heir since the day you were born, son. Not to the company, but to this courage.” He patted Elijah’s back gently before urging him toward Crowe. “Go. Now.”

Evelyn tugged at Benedict’s lapel, her face a cold mirror of disapproval. “You promised. You promised you’d come after us.”

Benedict said nothing. Instead, he pressed his wedding ring—a QR code pendant—into Evelyn’s palm. “The bunker generator needs this. Keep it safe.”

Crowe carefully took Evelyn’s arm. “Mrs. Voss, we must—”

“WAIT!” Elijah shouted, reaching into his pocket and retrieving an old, worn miniature hoverbike—a seventh‑birthday gift from Benedict. “Take this. So… so Dad remembers his promise.”

Benedict accepted it with trembling hands. In the corner of his eye, a glimmer of emotion—wet and raw—briefly shone through, unseen by anyone else.

“Thirty seconds!” one of the guards shouted. “That creature is closing in!”

Without another word, Crowe hurried Evelyn and Elijah down a back corridor. Benedict stood firm, ion pistol in hand, his imposing silhouette guarding the lobby like a giant defending its nest.

“MOVE!” he roared, his voice echoing as warning shots rang out against the ceiling.

Evelyn glanced back one last time. In the red emergency glow, little Benedict—the husband, the father—transformed back into the CEO, an unyielding pillar ready to face the encroaching darkness.

At the corridor’s end, Elijah whispered to his glowing pendant, “Please… don’t let Dad die.”

Outside, an anti‑gravity vehicle sped like a bullet along streets transformed into a labyrinth of ruin. Crowe silently cursed with every block of rubble he navigated. Black smoke billowed from meteor craters, forming a dark curtain that nearly obscured the sky. In the distance, the Aurora Tower still stood, though its Quantum Shield was cracking like a boiled egg.

“Don’t look,” Evelyn whispered, shielding Elijah’s eyes with her hand—even as a gap between her fingers let a glimpse through.

And Elijah saw it all.

An old man staggered, dragging swollen, aching legs beneath a collapsed concrete beam. A small child screamed for his mother, trapped under the ruins of a shattered hologram storefront. At an intersection, a group of people scrambled over a broken vending machine—faces half-hidden by patches of purple, scaly skin.

“Close the windows!” Crowe shouted as the stench of decay invaded the vehicle. Purple gas, crystallized from the meteor, clung to the glass like poisonous dew.

‘BRUKK!’

The vehicle was violently tossed to the left when a giant, scorpion‑like creature slammed into its front. Cracks in the glass fanned out in fractal patterns, revealing compound eyes of bloody red that glared with savage intensity. Its metallic pincers tore through the roof, slicing steel like paper.

Before his mind could catch up, Elijah reacted. His vibranium knife flashed as it struck the joint where the creature’s pincer met its body. A burst of acidic green fluid sprayed forth, burning through his uniform and leaving gaping holes. The monster shrieked, its spiked tail lashing wildly inside the vehicle.

“Smash its head! Destroy its head!” Crowe bellowed, firing his ion pistol at the creature’s eye. The laser hit its mark, forcing the beast to reel back, though it left only dark, searing scars.

In the chaos, Elijah’s hand brushed against something on the ground. He stooped and picked up a rough, opaque octahedral crystal. It felt warm and pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

“What is this?” he murmured, examining it.

“Throw it away! It’s probably toxic!” Evelyn lunged, trying to snatch it from him.

But Elijah tucked it away into an inner pocket. A soothing, warm energy seeped through his ribs, like a gentle stream of honey calming his nerves.

Ahead loomed Bunker XZ‑9, emerging behind an artificial hill—a steel fortress with a hangar‑sized door. Crowe keyed in the emergency code while watching the radar. “Five minutes left! Hold on—”

‘BRAKKK!’

The largest creature from the tower—a four‑meter‑tall humanoid with cracked basalt skin—landed directly in front of the vehicle. The fissures in its body glowed orange, radiating heat like a furnace. Crowe slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded, nearly colliding with a cliff.

“Get out! Now!” Crowe commanded, yanking them from the vehicle.

The monster roared, its voice shaking the very ground. Its metallic pincers flattened the vehicle into twisted, crumpled metal. Yet Elijah did not flee. His palms throbbed with heat—the crystal in his pocket pulsing a deep red through his clothing.

“Do something!” he cried.

Before his mind could fully process, instinct took over. His right hand rose on its own, unleashing a burst of red energy as the crystal seemed to merge with his skin. A blinding beam shot toward the creature, forcing it to recoil toward the edge of a nearby precipice.

“Elijah! What are you—” Crowe began, but then shouted, “RUN!” as he dragged them both into the bunker just as a fifty‑ton steel door slammed shut.

Inside the bunker, cool neon lights flickered on automatically. Evelyn quickly inspected Elijah’s arm burns—but his skin remained unscarred. “That crystal… do you feel strange?” she asked.

Elijah shook his head, attempting to lie it off. Yet beneath his uniform, the skin over his ribs faintly glowed—a red, fractal pattern that slowly faded away.

Exhausted, they slept in a corner of the storage room.

Later, Elijah awoke to the soft hiss of the ventilation system. His body felt almost weightless, as if gravity had halved. When he stepped toward the mirror in the bunker’s bathroom, his reaction was nearly instantaneous—his hand almost shattered the glass as he reached out to touch his reflection.

“Are you alright?” Evelyn asked from the doorway, her face still smudged with dust.

“Yeah… just didn’t sleep well,” Elijah replied, hiding his trembling hand.

On the bunker’s surveillance screen, Crowe watched the final meteor shower. “The explosion at Aurora Tower last night… nothing survived,” he murmured.