But the reality of its size becomes more apparent with each step. What looked like a cluster of stone pillars from afar is revealing itself to be a massive rock structure, easily hundreds of feet tall, with jagged spires reaching toward the yellow sky like this desert’s version of icicles.

“All right,” I mutter, trying to joke away my apprehension. “I know they say size doesn’t matter, but that is seriously intimidating.”

Nothing I say eases the flutter of anxiety in my chest. I’d been picturing something I could climb, something that would give me a vantage point to see beyond our immediate surroundings. But this…this is a sheer cliff face. There’s no way I’m scaling that without proper equipment and a death wish.

By the time BS begins to dip below the horizon, I’ve reached the base of the formation. Up close, it’s even more imposing—a wall of striated rock that towers above me, casting a long shadow across the sand. The stone is a darker tan than the surrounding desert, with veins of rust-red and burnt orange running through it.

I collapse in the blessed shade, allowing myself a slightly larger sip of water. My muscles ache from the unaccustomed exertion, and my skin feels tight and sensitive despite my precautions against the sun.

I know I have sunburn. I probably look like a roasted duck.

“Congratulations, Justine,” I say to the empty air. “You’ve reached your destination. And it’s completely useless.”

There’s no way up. No path, no handholds. Even if I somehow managed to start climbing, one slip would mean a fall that would leave me with far worse than that lady’s broken arm.

I lean back against the cool stone, closing my eyes. The relative shade is heaven after hours in direct sunlight, but it doesn’t change the fact that my mission has failed before it really began.

“So what now?” I ask myself, opening my eyes to stare up at the towering rock. “Go back with nothing to show for it? ‘Hey guys, turns out it was just a really big rock! Sorry about the water I used up!’ Ugh!”

I rest my head against the stone and close my eyes.

Fuck.

FUCK!

As darkness begins settling over the landscape, the reality of my situation crashes down on me as if it has a gravity of its own.

We’re stranded on a desert planet.

The Xyma either can’t find us or have no intention of rescuing us.

Our supplies will run out eventually.

And I just wasted precious water reaching a landmark that offers no help whatsoever.

“This is not how I planned to die,” I whisper, my voice sounding small against the vastness surrounding me. “Starving on an alien planet because I needed money for rent. That’s just…” I swallow hard, pushing back the tears that threaten to fall. “That’s just pathetic.”

I pull my knees to my chest, allowing myself a moment of pure, unfiltered despair. Not even the spectacular alien sunset—the yellow sky fading to deep orange, then a purple so intense it’s almost painful to look at—can distract me from the hopelessness swelling inside.

Night falls completely, bringing with it a chill that seeps through my clothes and into my bones. I wrap the emergency blanket around myself, huddling against the rock for what little warmth it still holds from the day.

The stars emerge, constellations I don’t recognize spread across a sky that’s the wrong color. They should be beautiful, but all I can wonder is which one of them is my sun. Which one of them is shining down on Earth. On home.

Morning arrives with cruel abruptness. How do I know? BS (Bitch Sun) tries to fry a part of my leg that was exposed beyond the shadow of the rock for too long.

“Fuck you.” I give the sun the middle finger. It does nothing to make me feel better. “Fuck. Shit.”

I ease up, mind a little groggy. Everything is stiff and sore, my mouth as dry as the sand surrounding me. I allow myself the smallest sip of water, barely enough to take the edge off my thirst.

Sitting up some more, I squint away the sleep and take in my surroundings. It’s morning and nothing has changed. I’m still stuck here. In barren land.

Still the same towering rock that’s inviting me to climb it, then fall and kill myself. Still the same tan smooth sand with⁠—

Something catches my eye and I sit up some more.

A strange pattern in the sand, like straight lines but…not quite right. I pause, crouching down to look closer. For a moment, it almost looks like tracks of a rake. My heart rate kicks up—who would be raking sand in the middle of nowhere?—until I spot the culprit: a dried-up tumbleweed caught on a small rock, its brittle branches scraping back and forth in the wind.

I snort. Well, what do you know? There are plants here after all. Dead ones. Fantastic.

But wait…plants. Even dead ones mean something once grew here. Which means there has to be water somewhere. Maybe not on the surface, but underground…

I push myself to my feet with renewed determination. Where there’s one plant, there might be more. Where there are plants, there might be life. And where there’s life…

Rescue. Maybe.

It’s time to make a decision.

I could head back to the transport. It would be the safe choice. I know the direction, I have enough water if I’m careful, and at least there would be other people there. We could try something else. Maybe send a larger group next time, or try a different direction.

Or…

I stand up, brushing sand from my clothes, and walk around the base of the rock formation. Maybe there’s something I missed. A cave, a crevice, anything that might offer more information on where this plant came from.

There’s nothing. Just more rock, more sand.

But as I complete my circuit and face outward from the formation, I notice something on the horizon. Another structure, similar to this one but different in shape. From this vantage point—which is higher than the area around the transport—I can see what might be a series of rock formations stretching into the distance.

I squint, trying to judge how far away the next one might be. Another day’s walk? Maybe less?

“This is stupid,” I tell myself. “You have limited water. The smart move is to go back.”

But something tells me to keep going. Call it intuition, desperation, or just plain stubbornness, but I can’t shake the feeling that turning back now would be giving up our best chance at survival.

I check my supplies again. If I’m extremely careful with my water, I might have enough to reach the next formation and still make it back to the transport. It’s a risk, but at this point, what isn’t?

“Sorry, Jacqui,” I murmur, turning my back to the direction of the transport. “I need to see what’s out there.” But just for security, in case of anything, I leave a message.

Using tiny stones all around me, I create an arrow pointing to the other rock formation with a ‘BRB’. If they come, Jacqui and any of the others will get what I mean.

But it won’t get to that point.

I’ll make my way back.

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Chapter 6

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TRESPASSERS WILL BE THOROUGHLY MISUNDERSTOOD

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ROK

The male sleeps against my clan’s boundary marker.

I crouch, watching from my position among the sandstone outcroppings. My skin ripples subtly, adjusting its amber-gold patterns to match the surrounding rocks.

This traveler has committed an outrageous offense.

In all my cycles, I have never witnessed such a blatant territorial challenge. The boundary markers are sacred to all Drakav—to rest against one is to claim it, to challenge the clan’s right to the territory beyond. Even rival clans respect the protocol of proper challenges.