My home planet was my everything.
Not in the poetic way people liked to say it not as some distant, abstract love.
It was the air in my lungs. The noise of the streets outside my window. The way the sky burned gold at dusk and violet at night.
It was home.
And I never imagined it could disappear.
The first sign was the sky.
At first, I thought it was a trick of the light stars dimming, shifting slightly out of place. I remember squinting up at them, trying to make sense of it, like if I stared long enough, it would correct itself.
It didn't.
Something moved between them.
Too large. Too slow.
Wrong.
A low hum rolled through the city, vibrating through the ground and up into my chest. The lights around me flickered, then dimmed, then steadied again like nothing had happened.
Then the sirens started.
They screamed across the skyline, sharp and relentless. Every screen lit up at once. Every speaker blared the same message:
"Evacuation order in effect. All citizens proceed to designated launch sectors immediately."
I didn't move.
Not at first.
No one ever thinks it's real not when it's their world. Disasters happen somewhere else. To someone else.
Then the sky… opened.
There's no other way to describe it.
It didn't explode or crack it just gave way, like something on the other side had been waiting.
Darkness poured through.
Not empty darkness something deeper. Heavier. Alive in a way I couldn't understand.
And inside it… shapes.
I couldn't focus on them. Every time I tried, my vision blurred, like my mind refused to let me see what was really there.
That's when people started running.
The streets dissolved into chaos almost instantly.
Someone slammed into me, nearly knocking me over. Another person grabbed my arm, then let go just as quickly, pulled away by the crowd. Voices overlapped—shouting, crying, calling names that would never be answered.
I forced myself to move.
To run.
Above us, one of the shapes descended.
It didn't fall. it drifted, silent and massive. As it passed over a row of buildings, they didn't explode.
They folded.
Like they were being crushed by something invisible.
The sound came a second later a deep, tearing groan that made my stomach twist.
I didn't look back again.
The launch sector was already collapsing under the pressure.
Ships were taking off too fast, too full. Some didn't even clear the surrounding structures before slamming into them. The air was thick with heat and exhaust, the ground shaking beneath every ignition.
"Sector full!" someone shouted.
"There has to be another—"
"There isn't!"
Panic spread faster than anything else.
I saw the ship before I decided to run for it, a transport, already overloaded, its ramp still down as people forced their way inside.
It was my only chance.
I ran.
The ground shook violently, nearly throwing me off balance. Something hit the city behind me not from above, but into it. The sound wasn't loud.
It was worse than that.
It was like everything just… stopped.
I didn't turn around.
I couldn't.
By the time I reached the ramp, people were fighting to get in.
Hands grabbed at me, pulling, pushing. Someone screamed as they were shoved to the ground. Another tried to climb over the crowd, only to be dragged back down.
I pushed forward anyway.
I didn't think about it.
Didn't think about who I was shoving past. Didn't think about who I left behind.
I just moved.
"Move!" I gasped, forcing my way through the crush of bodies.
A security drone hovered near the entrance, its voice glitching:
"Capacity exceeded. Capacity—"
It sparked suddenly and dropped from the air.
I crossed the threshold just as the ramp began to close.
For a split second, I saw someone reaching for me hand outstretched, eyes wide with desperation.
Then the door sealed.
The ship launched before I could catch my breath.
The force slammed me to the floor, knocking the air from my lungs. Around me, people cried out some in relief, others in fear.
The hull groaned as we shot upward.
Something struck us a glancing blow, but enough to send a ripple of panic through the cabin.
"We're not going to make it," someone whispered.
I pulled myself up just enough to look out a narrow viewport.
I wish I hadn't.
From above, it wasn't destruction.
It was erasure.
Entire sections of the planet were just… gone. No fire. No debris. Just empty space where something used to exist.
The darkness spread across the surface, swallowing everything in its path.
Ships tried to escape.
Most didn't.
They vanished—one after another—without a trace.
I pressed my hand against the glass, my breath fogging it.
My home.
Gone.
The ship jolted violently.
Alarms screamed through the cabin.
"Navigation failure—""Jump drive unstable—""Brace—"
The stars outside stretched into long, impossible lines.
And then—
We were gone.
Silence.
When I opened my eyes, everything felt… wrong.
Too quiet.
Too still.
The lights flickered weakly overhead.
Bodies lay motionless around me.
No voices.
No movement.
I slowly turned toward the viewport.
Nothing but empty space stared back.
No ships. No signals. No home.
Just darkness.
And the terrifying thought settling in—
I might be the only one who made it out.
"Mom, Dad no!" I cried, the words tearing out of me as if they could hear me as if anyone on my planet still could.
I lost consciousness as the ship spiraled out of control, with no idea which planet I was falling toward The next thing I knew, I woke in a field of strange, vividly colored plants beneath a blazing yellow sun. The air was thick too thick and every breath felt heavy in my lungs.
"Hey—are you okay?" a teenage boy called, rushing toward me.
Behind him stood a wooden structure weathered, uneven, nothing like the smooth, metallic architecture I was used to. Its doors were wide open, revealing animals inside.
Animals…
I stared, my breath catching.
They were smaller than the creatures from my world. Softer. Covered in fur, feathers—some with dull, earthy colors, others patterned in ways that seemed almost… natural.
One of them let out a low sound a moo, deep and strange.
I flinched.
"I—" My voice cracked. "Where… am I?"
The boy slowed as he reached me, his expression shifting from concern to confusion.
"Uh… you're on my family's farm," he said. "Just outside town."
The words meant nothing.
Farm? Town?
I pushed myself up, my arms trembling. The ground beneath me was covered in thin green growth—soft, flexible. It bent under my fingers instead of resisting.
I tore a small piece free, staring at it.
"…What is this?"
The boy blinked. "Grass."
I looked up at him.
"Grass," I repeated, like the word itself might explain something.
It didn't.
A warm light pressed against my skin. I glanced upward.
The star above this planet burned a bright, steady yellow not like the filtered glow of my world's sky. This one was harsher. Real. I could feel it.
Everything here felt… unprotected.
Too open.
Too exposed.
I tried to take a full breath and failed.
The air was thick. Heavy. It filled my lungs too slowly, like I had to fight for it.
I staggered.
"Whoa hey." The boy stepped forward, catching my arm. "Easy. You okay?"
I shook my head, coughing. "The atmosphere—it's too dense…"
"The… what?" he frowned. "You mean the air?"
I didn't answer.
Because suddenly
A thought hit me.
Hard.
Slowly, I turned in a full circle. Open land. No domes. No shields. No skyline of structured cities. Just endless stretch of land and sky.
Unprotected.
Vulnerable.
My chest tightened.
"…This planet," I whispered. "It has no defenses."
The boy stared at me like I'd just said something insane.
"…Defenses from what?"
I didn't answer right away.
"Sorry… I'm not used to any of this," I said, struggling to steady my breathing.
The boy frowned, studying me more closely now.
"…Yeah, I can tell," he said slowly. "You hit your head or something?"
"I don't think so," I muttered, though I wasn't sure that was true.
Everything still felt distant. Unreal.
My eyes drifted past him again—to the open land, the endless sky, the strange animals watching from the barn.
Nothing here made sense.
"…What is this place?" I asked again, quieter this time.
He hesitated.
"Earth," he said. "You're on Earth."
The word meant nothing to me.
"Earth…" I repeated, testing it.
He shifted his weight, clearly confused now. "Yeah. You know… the planet?"
I went still.
Planet.
So this was a world. A living one. Unshielded. Unaware.
A cold feeling settled in my chest.
"…How many people live here?" I asked.
"Uh…" he blinked. "Like… billions?"
My stomach dropped.
Billions.
Unprotected.
I looked up at the sky again, the bright yellow sun burning overhead like a signal.
"They'll find this place," I whispered.
"What?" he asked.
I shook my head quickly. "Nothing."
He didn't believe me.
I could see it in his face the way his eyes narrowed just slightly, the way he looked at me like I wasn't just hurt…
…but wrong.
"…You're not from around here, are you?" he said.
I let out a small, humorless breath.
"No," I said quietly. "I'm really not."
A silence stretched between us.
Then, from the barn, one of the animals let out another low, echoing sound. The others shifted, restless.
The boy glanced back at them, then at me again.
"…You should probably come inside," he said. "At least until you figure out… whatever this is."
I hesitated.
Every instinct in me still screamed to be careful.
But the sky above us felt too open.
Too exposed.
And if I was right
If they were still out there
Then standing in the middle of a field was the worst place I could be.
"…Okay," I said finally.
But as I followed him toward the barn.
I couldn't stop looking up.
"My uncle and aunt own this place," he said, handing me a warm mug. "They don't really like living in the city."
I wrapped my hands around it instinctively, flinching slightly at the heat seeping into my skin. The warmth spread quickly, unfamiliar but… comforting.
"What is this?" I asked, staring into the dark liquid.
"Hot cocoa," he said. "You've never had it before?"
I shook my head and brought it cautiously to my lips.
The taste hit me instantly sweet, rich, nothing like the nutrient blends I was used to. It lingered, warm and strangely soothing as it slid down my throat.
I blinked, caught off guard.
"…It's good," I admitted quietly.
He let out a small, almost amused breath. "Yeah. Most people figure that out pretty fast."
I looked down at the mug again, turning it slightly in my hands. Even something this simple felt foreign. This planet… was nothing like mine.
"I'm Noah. It's not really a forgettable name, but… I figured I should tell you," he said, kneeling beside one of the animals.
I watched as he ran a cloth along its back. It had four legs and a long tail, its body covered in short, coarse fur. It shifted slightly under his touch, letting out a low, rumbling sound.
I tensed.
"…Is it dangerous?" I asked.
Noah glanced up at me, confused for a second—then let out a small breath of amusement.
"What? No," he said. "It's just a cow."
"A… cow," I repeated slowly, studying it more carefully.
The creature blinked lazily, completely unbothered by my presence.
I frowned. It didn't look dangerous. It didn't act dangerous. That somehow made it even harder to understand.
Noah stood, wiping his hands on a cloth, his eyes flicking back to me.
"You really aren't from around here," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"I'm Lira. Since you told me your name… I figured I should tell you mine," I said, glancing around the barn. "Do your family only run this farm, or… do they do something else?"
I was still trying to understand this place, this Earth. Noah leaned against the wooden railing, arms crossing loosely.
"No. This is just their side job," he said.
I frowned slightly. "Side job?"
"Yeah," he continued, like it was nothing. "Their real work is… different."
Something in his tone made me look at him more closely.
"How?" I asked.
He hesitated for a second just long enough for me to notice. Then
"They investigate things," he said. "Stuff that doesn't belong here."
My chest tightened.
"Like what?"
Noah's eyes met mine.
"Aliens," he said simply. "What they are. What they do. Especially if they get their hands on a yellow star like ours."
The words hit harder than they should have. My grip on the mug tightened.
"…Why?" I asked quietly.
He shrugged, but his gaze didn't leave mine.
"Because if something out there decides to come here," he said, "we'd want to know before it's too late."
Silence fell between us.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he tilted his head slightly.
"…Why are you asking like you already know something?"
"Because I'm not…" I said, my voice trailing off as I continued looking around.
The barn. The animals. The open sky beyond the doors.
Nothing felt right.
"This place is so unfamiliar to me… it scares me."
"What are you talking about?" Noah asked, his eyes following my every step as I moved.
I stopped, the weight of his gaze settling on me.
For a moment, I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know how to explain a world that no longer existed.
Or the things that destroyed it.
"My—"
I was cut off as the barn doors creaked open.
Two unfamiliar humans stepped inside.
"Noah, we're back. I hope we didn't keep you waiting long," the woman said as she walked in.
I froze.
She was… stunning.
Not just in appearance, but in the way she carried herself calm, controlled, like she was always aware of everything around her.
Her eyes landed on me instantly.
Sharp.
Curious.
"Oh?" she said, tilting her head slightly. "And who might this be?"
Noah shifted beside me, just enough for me to notice.
"This is uh…" he hesitated, glancing at me briefly. "Her name's Lira. I found her out in the field."
"Found her?" the man repeated, stepping in behind the woman. His voice was lower, more cautious.
I felt their attention settle on me fully now.
Weighed. Measured.
The woman stepped closer.
Too close.
Her gaze moved over me my clothes, my posture, the way I held myself.
Taking everything in.
"Well, Lira," she said softly, though there was something sharper beneath her tone, "you don't look like you're from around here."
My chest tightened. Noah went still beside me.
And for the first time since I arrived I had a distinct feeling… I wasn't the only one asking questions anymore.
"I'm not," I said quietly. "And I don't have anywhere to go either…"
The words felt heavier the moment I said them out loud.
I looked down at my hands, tightening slightly around the mug.
"My whole family is gone. My parents… everyone."
Silence followed. Not the comforting kind.
The kind that made your chest feel tight. The woman didn't react the way I expected. No immediate sympathy. No soft words.
Just… observation. Careful. Calculated.
"I see," she said after a moment, her voice calm, almost too calm.
The man beside her crossed his arms slightly, his gaze narrowing just a fraction.
"That's… quite a story," he added.
I looked up at them, my pulse quickening. Story. They didn't believe me.
Noah shifted beside me. "She was out in the field," he said. "Alone. She could barely stand."
"I'm not questioning that," the man replied, though his eyes never left me. "I'm questioning everything else."
The woman took another small step closer. "You don't have identification?" she asked. "No device? No way to contact anyone?"
I shook my head slowly.
"No."
That part, at least, was true. Her eyes flicked briefly to Noah, then back to me.
"And you expect us to believe you just… appeared here?" she asked.
My chest tightened. I hesitated Just for a second. But that was enough. Something in her expression sharpened. She noticed. Of course she did.
"I didn't appear," I said quickly. "I crashed."
The word slipped out before I could stop it. Silence. This time, it was heavier. Noah turned toward me slightly. "Crashed?" he repeated. The man's posture shifted instantly, more alert now.
"Into what?" he asked.
I froze. Too late. I'd already said too much. The woman's gaze locked onto mine, unblinking now.
"Lira," she said softly, her tone controlled but intense, "what exactly did you crash in?" My grip tightened around the mug, the warmth no longer comforting.
"Here," I said quietly. "I crashed here."
The words hung in the air, heavy and irreversible. For a moment, no one spoke.
Then the man and woman exchanged a glance. It was quick. Subtle. But it wasn't confusion. It was recognition. My stomach dropped. They knew something.
Noah straightened slightly beside me. "Wait you mean like… a plane crash?" he asked, trying to make sense of it.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
The woman stepped closer, her expression sharpening just enough to notice.
"What did you crash in?" she asked, her voice calm—but now there was something underneath it.
Something focused. My fingers tightened around the mug. The warmth was gone now, replaced by a cold, creeping tension that spread through my chest.
"I…" I hesitated.
Think. Say something normal. Say something they'll believe. But my mind kept flashing back The sky tearing open. The ship shaking. The jump.
"I don't think you'd understand," I said instead, my voice quieter now. The man let out a small breath, almost like a dry laugh but there was no humor in it.
"Try us."
Silence pressed in around me again. Even the animals in the barn seemed quieter now, their movements slower, more cautious. Waiting.
Noah looked between us, unease creeping into his expression. "Guys… she's clearly shaken. Maybe we should just—"
"Noah," the woman cut in gently, without looking at him. He stopped talking immediately. That alone told me something. She didn't take her eyes off me.
"Lira," she said, softer now, almost reassuring—but it didn't reach her eyes. "If you're in danger, we need to know. Whatever brought you here… matters."
My pulse pounded in my ears. If I told them Everything would change. If I didn't They might already know. I swallowed hard.
"It wasn't from this planet," I said finally. The words felt like stepping off an edge. Noah went still. The man's posture shifted subtly, but enough.
And the woman… She didn't look surprised. Not even a little. Instead, she nodded once. Slowly. "…I thought so," she said.
My breath caught. Noah turned to her sharply. "Wait what?" But she was still looking at me.
Measuring. Confirming. "Where is it?" she asked.
My chest tightened. "What?"
"The crash site," she said. "Your ship."
The word hit like a shock. Ship. Not a plane. Not a vehicle.
Ship. They knew. They understood.
"It's a few miles from here," I said. "I walked after I left it… after the crash."
The man nodded once, already turning. "Get your boots," he said to Noah. "We're going."
Noah blinked. "Right now?"
"Yes. Right now."
The woman didn't argue. She was already moving toward the door. That told me everything. This wasn't new to them. The walk felt longer than it should have.
The sun hung lower in the sky now, casting long shadows across the fields. The air was still thick in my lungs, every breath a reminder that I didn't belong here.
No one talked much. Noah stayed close to me, occasionally glancing over like he wanted to ask something but didn't.
The man and woman walked ahead, quiet, focused. Like they already knew what they were about to find.
We reached it just as the light began to fade. Or what was left of it.
The ground had been torn open. Not burned. Not shattered.
Torn.
A long scar cut through the earth, stretching farther than I could see, the soil pushed aside like something massive had carved its way through it.
At the center my ship. Or what remained of it.
Metal was twisted inward, not outward. The hull looked like it had been crushed by something invisible, warped into shapes that didn't make sense. Parts of it flickered faintly, systems still trying to function.
Barely.
"This is it," I said quietly. "All I have left from my home planet… not like there's anything left anymore."
Noah didn't say anything this time. Even he understood. The woman's expression shifted just slightly. Not suspicion. Something closer to realization.
"We'll take you in," the woman said, her voice steady. "We'll study you, and we'll give you somewhere to stay. But you must not tell anyone you're an alien."
She paused, her eyes locking onto mine.
"Because the moment people find out… everything changes."
Everything she said felt right. Too right. Like she'd said it before.
"What do you mean 'study' me?" I asked.
"To understand you," she replied. "To see what our sun does to someone like you."
Someone like me.
"What color star did your planet have?"
"…Red," I said.
They both went quiet. Then the woman nodded slowly.
"…Then we may have found something extraordinary."
I guess this is where it starts. My life as both alien and human on a planet I don't understand, breathing air that doesn't quite belong to me. Everything feels off. Different. Wrong. But if what they said is true… This planet might change me.