As night deepened, the forest began to glow.
Soft, ethereal light bloomed from the trees—reds, blues, and violets weaving together like an aurora emanated among branches. The wind carried a sweet, alien scent, and for the first time since their arrival, peace settled over the group, fragile but real.
Lazarus and the others sat quietly around the fading fire, watching as it boiled the last of the water she, Xiaolang, and Laurel had carried back from the river. When it finally cooled, Shingo and Anna poured it carefully into the waiting bottles.
Laurel let out a long breath. The water problem—at least for now—was solved.
"Should we put the fire out?" Anna murmured. She didn't move. None of them did. Fatigue weighed too heavily.
"I'll take care of it," Bob said. He scooped sand and ashes over the embers, burying the glow until it dimmed and died. He remembered hearing—from his father, and from Mistral—that fire could be extinguished by denying it oxygen. Vacuum, foam, suffocation. They didn't have foam here, but sand would have to do.
"It feels like such a waste," Anna said softly, frowning at the last flicker disappearing. "We worked so hard to make it."
"We can make it again," Laurel said, stifling a yawn. "Let's eat. Then sleep. I'm exhausted."
One by one, they climbed back into the lifepod, settling into their seats and pressing close for warmth. The chairs were hard and unforgiving—but tonight, it didn't matter.
Outside, waves lapped gently against the shore.
The sound followed them into sleep, deep and dreamless.
Lexus woke with a jolt.
In his dream, there had been warmth—a grilled steak, the soft give of a real bed. Comfort vanished the instant his face met cold metal. The lifepod wall didn't budge. It reminded him exactly where he was: far from home, far from safety.
He sat up, heart pounding.
For someone used to a room of his own, the cramped pod felt like a coffin. The air was stale, heavy, pressing against his chest until he couldn't take it anymore. Muttering under his breath, he climbed toward the hatch.
Another thing to complain about later. Who designed this lifepod, anyway? Why ladders? Climbing them was exhausting.
The night outside was moonless and cold.
The sky was pitch black, yet the forest glowed faintly—veins of blue and crimson pulsing through the trees, like a living planet breathing in the dark.
Xiaolang sat near the shore, unmoving. A statue. His gaze followed the water's surface with quiet focus. Once, a shadow as large as a building slid beneath the waves, stirring a soft splash. Xiaolang glanced at Lexus for a heartbeat—then looked away.
"Hmph. Not even a hello?" Lexus muttered, crossing his arms. The sting of being ignored burned sharper than the cold. He was the son of the Blackdiamond Group CEO. The richest company in the world, and this nobody wouldn't even acknowledge him.
Did Xiaolang really not understand what kind of power he was refusing?
No—this world was to blame.
Ever since they'd crashed here, no one obeyed Lexus anymore. They treated him like any other survivor. Made him boil water. Carry wood. and even got chased by monsters.
I was born to lead, he told himself. Not to serve. Lexus ego told him.
"I'd be more polite if I were you," Xiaolang said evenly, without turning. "You might be the son of the Blackdiamond Group—but there are only seven of us here."
He finally looked at Lexus, eyes steady and unreadable.
"Your money means nothing. Behave."
"I'll tell Papa about your insolence!" Lexus roared. "You and your family will never work for my father's company again!"
Xiaolang smiled faintly—a sharp, humorless curve. "Only if we can return."
The night breeze carried his words like a blade.
"What a blessing it must be," he added softly, "to be as stupid as you."
"What did you say?" Lexus snapped.
"We've been here for more than forty-eight hours," Xiaolang said evenly. "The beacon has been online the whole time. No rescue. Not even a reply." His gaze stayed on the dark water. "Do you know what that means, rich boy?"
"Huh?" Lexus blinked. Anger still burned in his chest, but Xiaolang's words clawed at something deeper. He was the son of the Blackdiamond Group's CEO. Of course his father would come. His father could do anything.
"They're just late," he insisted. "That's all."
"The son of Blackdiamond Group," Xiaolang said quietly, "and still this stupid. I will spell it for you. It means help isn't coming, Lexus."
"They're just late!" Lexus shouted. "You don't know that! Stop pretending you're smarter than everyone. You sound just like Laurel—even though your grades were average!"
"I see." Xiaolang exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his shoulders. "Talking to you is a waste of time."
He turned back toward the ocean, where black waves shimmered faintly with the forest's glow. Lexus clenched his fists. Heat rushed to his face. The words hurt more than he wanted to admit.
The lifepod hatch slid open with a soft hiss.
"Xiaolang? Lexus?" Lazarus peeked out, hair mussed, her drowsy smile gentle in the alien light.
"Can't sleep?"
Her voice cut through the night like a small light—fragile, but warm.
"We've already slept for more than ten hours, Lazarus," Xiaolang murmured. "Look at the clock."
"Oh… right." Lazarus wrapped her arms around her knees. The forest's faint glow painted her face in shifting blues and reds. "This planet runs on a forty-eight-hour day… not like home."
She drew a slow breath. "It's colder outside. But the air feels cleaner."
Bob's head popped out of the lifepod hatch. "Want to start another fire? We're all awake anyway."
One by one, the others followed—rubbing their eyes, stretching stiff limbs, drawn out by hunger as much as by the fresh air.
"It's so stuffy in there, I should work on how to turn on the life support Air conditioner." Shingo muttered to himself. he then turned to others, "Let's eat."
They gathered around the fire pit. When Bob brushed aside the ash, a soft orange glow pulsed beneath it. The remains of the burned wood were blackened, a single ember still breathing at the edge.
"Huh… still hot." He let out a relieved breath. "Good thing it didn't spread to the trees or anything. Maybe we should douse it with water next time."
Laurel shook her head. "That feels like a waste. Starting a fire with the plough is hard. Only you could do it. We might as well reuse the embers."
Her gaze drifted to the lifepod's metal plating. "Next time, we should keep them in something metal. That way, even Lazarus or I could relight a fire if we need to."
"Understood." Bob fed more wood into the fire pit, coaxing the ember back into a living flame. It pulsed again—tiny, stubborn, alive—the only warm light on the alien shore.
"Here." Anna passed around nutrient bars.
Silence settled over them, soft and almost fragile, as the flickering flame wrapped them in warmth.
"I always wondered why fire was banned," Anna murmured. "It's so beautiful." She watched the flame sway. "My father used to say fire represented hope and spirit. I never understood him… but now I do." Her voice softened. "When I look at it, I feel safe. Like this fire can protect us from anything."
A gentle smile touched her face as the firelight danced in her eyes.
Mistral chimed in.
[Fire was banned due to pollution risk. Even clean methane-based flames—producing only water vapor and CO₂—could ignite synthetic polymers commonly used in colony furniture and housing. Fire was permitted only in environments constructed entirely from non-combustible materials, such as welding bays and industrial furnaces.]
"There's your answer," Laurel said, nodding slowly. "And I agree with Mistral. Even now, this fire could spread to the forest. It isn't safe."
She paused, eyes reflecting amber light.
"Still… just this once, we can ignore the rules. We're not inside a colony anymore."
She had noticed it earlier—the way the flame pushed back the strange wildlife. Even the pink amoebas and the cloud striders kept their distance while the fire burned.
For now, the light held the dark at bay.
"Well, who even uses fire these days?" Lexus smirked. "Induction stoves are way better. Fire is for primates like Bob. He's the only one strong enough to start one."
"That's not very nice," Shingo muttered.
"Just ignore him," Laurel said. "We all know how important this fire is. Without it, we wouldn't have safe water." She turned to Bob. "You can ignore this spoiled brat."
"Hahaha, I don't mind," Bob laughed, tossing another branch into the flame. "It's technically true, right? In biology class, humans are classified as primates."
"Well, someone didn't skip his lessons," Laurel said with a smirk. "Seems the son of the Blackdiamond Group's CEO has only one merit—his mouth."
"Grhh! But it's true!" Lexus snapped. "Induction stoves are safer and better than this primitive fire."
"But we don't have them now, Lexus," Laurel shot back. "We should be grateful we even have fire at all. Without Bob, we'd be drinking river water raw." Her voice tightened. "Do you know how far we walked? How heavy those bottles were?"
"Hmph! This is all because of that stupid starcruiser—and those terrorists!" Lexus spat. "When I get back home, I'll make sure the captain ends up in prison!"
If we get back home.
The thought pressed in on them, heavy and unspoken. No one dared say it aloud.
The fire crackled softly, casting uneven light across their faces. Beyond it, waves rolled in the darkness, steady and indifferent—the only sounds in a night that suddenly felt far larger than any of them.
"Anyway," Laurel said, forcing her voice steady, "let's plan for tomorrow. I want to assign Lexus, Bob, and Anna to water duty. Your job will be boiling water."
"So what are you going to do?" Lexus scoffed, crossing his arms, chin lifting with familiar arrogance. "Slack off?"
"We take turns," Laurel shot back. "That's how this works. Do you know how exhausting yesterday was? You barely carried any of the bottles."
Her brows knit tight, fatigue and frustration bleeding into her voice. Even now—even here—how could he still refuse to cooperate?
"But I boiled water!" Lexus snapped. "It's not like I was lounging around in the lifepod!"
"Bob, Anna, and Shingo did the real work," Laurel said. "Not you."
"And Shingo?" Lexus pressed. "Why does he get to slack off?"
"He's watching the beacon and the fire," Laurel replied. "Someone has to stay behind in case we get a message."
"Why can't I do that?" Lexus shot back. "Better yet, why don't you do it?" His lip curled. "What—are the three of you planning to sleep the whole afternoon tomorrow?"
"We have something important to do," Laurel said. Her fists clenched at her sides as she fought to keep her temper in check.
"And what would that be?" Lexus stepped closer, eyebrows raised in challenge. "Something more important than water? Why now? We just did it yesterday. Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
The fire crackled between them, its light throwing jagged shadows across their drawn faces. The tension hung thick in the air—heavy, stubborn, ready to ignite again at the slightest spark.
"We want to explore the land, Lexus," Lazarus said. Her voice was calm, but beneath it lay a thin thread of tired hope. "If there's a civilization out there, then there might be a way home. We could skip water duty—but that means you'd have to carry seven extra bottles tomorrow. And if we miscalculate, we could run out in the middle of the night." She met his eyes. "Are you okay with that?"
Before Lexus could answer, Shingo raised his hand. "It's fine. Lexus can watch the fire and the lifepod. He's right—I haven't taken water duty yet. It's only fair."
"But you're younger than us," Laurel said, frowning. "And you were in the hospital for a month, remember?"
She hated bringing it up. But out here, even a mild asthma flare could be deadly.
Shingo shook his head with a small laugh. "I'm fine. Really. I didn't even have a flare-up when we ran from that scarab yesterday."
Laurel hesitated, then nodded. "Alright… but Bob keeps an eye on you."
"Yeah, no problem," Shingo said easily. "Staying cooped up in the lifepod was boring anyway. The air out here's way fresher."
"See?" Lexus snapped. "Favoritism! You're never fair, Laurel!"
"Shut it," Laurel shot back. "If you want fairness, then carry as many bottles as Xiaolang did today!"
"That's enough," Lazarus said, rubbing her temples. Laurel and Lexus always sparked like flint and steel—even back in the colony. She exhaled slowly. "Xiaolang, where should we go tomorrow?"
"The hill we saw earlier," Xiaolang said, pointing toward a dark silhouette beyond the beach. "If we reach higher ground, we can take photos and map the area."
"Good idea," Laurel said, lowering herself beside the fire. She took a deep breath, refusing to let lexus' antics to get under her skin. She nodded once at Xiaolang.
"I want to join the expedition too! You can't hog all the fun!" Lexus protested.
Laurel shot him a sharp look. "You're the one who begged for the easiest job. I'm not catering to someone who dumps water bottles on girls." Her voice hardened. "You've proven yourself weaker than Lazarus—and she only just transferred to Mars."
"Tch! Fine," Lexus huffed. "I won't join you. I'll be a good boy and watch the fire." He crossed his arms and pouted. "Maybe Papa will message me while you're gone."
"Alright," Laurel said. "That's the plan for tomorrow. If we find any sign of civilization, food and water won't be such a struggle." She glanced toward the dark horizon. "Who knows—they might even have gate technology."
Silence settled over the group. Only the fire crackled between them, sparks drifting upward like tiny fireflies trying to escape into the alien night.
"Say… watching the fire is getting boring," Lexus muttered, nudging the dirt with his foot. "Don't we have something else to do?"
"Let's sing!" Anna said suddenly.
"That's a wonderful idea," Laurel said, smiling. She lifted her flute. "I can play."
"Ah—but I only know church songs," Lazarus admitted.
"That's fine," Laurel said gently. "I know some too."
And so they sang.
When the night is long and faith feels small,
When I've prayed the words but hear no call,
When the storm is loud and peace is thin,
But every road still leads me home,
To grace I never earned or owned.
My breath, my life, my future days,
All I am is Yours always.
Still You are God when I don't understand,
Still You are good when the world shakes my stand,
From the rising sun to the darkest hour,
You reign in love, You reign in power.
Still You are God.
Anna and Lazarus began, their voices small but clear. Laurel's flute wove a soft melody around them. One by one, the others joined in, until a hymn of hope bound their hearts together. It was solemn, yet gentle—a fragile thread of light stitched through the darkness.
The night felt less vast. Less threatening.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. But for now, in this small circle of warmth, their hearts beat as one.
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Daddy, I want to be a fantasy writer when I grow up. I want to write stories about pretty birds that can fly forever in big blue skies—just like old Earth. Can you turn my story into a movie someday? I'll work really hard. I promise. ~Anna