They found the well on Sol 299.
A pit of liquid light, dug overnight in the heart of the colony. The air above it warped like a mirage. Juno, half-mad from oxygen toxicity, lurched toward it. “It’s a doorway,” she breathed. “It wants to take us somewhere… better.”
Renn pulled her back. “Or dump us into whatever hell it comes from.”
But the colonists were starving.
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Their last rations had moldered. The Lumen’s crystal flowers now dominated the greenhouse, choking out what remained of Earth’s crops. Twelve became eight. Then five.
Voss approached the well last.
The light pulsed, beckoning. She saw shapes in it—a world without dust, without pain. A place where bones didn’t crumble.
“Yes,” the Lumen whispered. Its form hovered above the well, fraying at the edges, dimmer than before. “Step into the light. I will unknit the disease. I will remake you.”
“At what cost?” she asked.
The Lumen’s patterns stilled. For the first time, its voice cracked.
“I do not know.”