Schloss Colditz, Colditz, Germany – October 29th, 1941 | 7:49 P.M.32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnMrQqDSxkl
“Surrender now, or face grave consequences,” whispered the doppelgänger of Alice from the sky. Her voice echoed unnaturally, amplified as though inside a vast stadium. Above the castle, fighter planes screamed across the darkening sky. On the ground, Colditz soldiers scrambled to man their anti-aircraft guns, preparing to fire—until the unimaginable happened.
With a single, sweeping strike of her sword—its blade resembling a writhing black hole surrounded by its event horizon—the doppelgänger sliced through the air. Crystalline ripples tore through the artillery, causing every gun in the fortress to explode simultaneously. In mere seconds, Colditz’s defences were annihilated.
From the middle of the battlefield, Dr. Wagner watched in cold fascination, surrounded by panicked soldiers.
“So that’s the harpy witch giving our Motherland such grief,” he mused. “She does resemble a bird, I’ll admit. How did the Inselaffen manage to gain an ally of this calibre?”
“ALICE! IT’S ME! EVA! YOU WERE THROWN BACK IN TIME TOO!” Eva called out, waving her arms toward the sky.
At the mention of that name, the doppelgänger dissolved into a swirling mist of fiery butterflies—then reappeared before Eva in a blink, her sword already mid-swing. It would have cleaved Eva in two had she not instinctively manifested her M.J.O.L.N.I.R. in time to parry the blow.
The air cracked with the collision.
“How do you know that name?” the doppelgänger hissed, venom lacing her tone.
Eva blinked in confusion. “It’s your name… isn’t it?”
Before the exchange could escalate, the massive form of Schrödinger—towering in his titan state—lunged into the fray and hurled the doppelgänger several metres away. She skidded across the ground, a black blur slicing through the soil. Soldiers hesitated, unsure whether to attack or flee.
“She’s not Alice,” Schrödinger growled, returning to Eva’s side. “She’s one of the seven Shards of Alice. An Ego. Her name is Constantine.”
“What?!” Eva cried. “Then how the hell do we get back if she’s not Alice?”
“She is, in part,” Schrödinger muttered. “The spear must’ve reset Alice back to Origin. Now her Shards are wandering the Narrative unbound.” He paused, visibly frustrated. “This is bad.”
With that, Schrödinger shrank back into his feline form and perched on Eva’s shoulder, eyes narrowed.
Unsure of what else to do, Eva retrieved a white handkerchief and waved it above her head.
“We surrender!” she called.
“You coward! We do not surrender!” shouted Kazan, finally overcoming his earlier fear. He charged forward, unsheathing his katana, drawing a line in the earth between himself and Constantine in a wordless challenge.
Gunfire erupted around them. Colditz soldiers opened fire—but Constantine didn’t flinch.
She rose from the ground, levitating as the earth beneath her twisted and warped, as though being swallowed from above. A blinding orb—an actual star—materialised overhead, expanding rapidly until its light consumed the entire compound.
“Surrender now, reptile,” Constantine said coldly, glaring at the paralysed general.
Dr. Wagner, eyes wide with awe and terror, finally snapped. “We surrender! We are at your mercy, harpy!”
His voice cut through the chaos. Around him, soldiers hesitated—then dropped their weapons. The general’s command held. Constantine let the star collapse, taking the radiant pressure with it. Colditz was left shrouded in silence and darkness.
Not a single casualty had fallen—yet.32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcw1Bzkk9xq
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The British Army arrived at Colditz by airship and plane, descending over the town like shadows in the twilight. Constantine had already cleared the northern quarter, purging the overrun sections of the village with violent, crystalline starlight. The ground glittered where her blade had struck—spires of luminescent crystal jutted upward, each marking the place where a creature had once stood.
The soldiers of Colditz, bloodied and exhausted from holding the southern barricades, could do little but stare. The creatures that had plagued them now recoiled from the areas Constantine had cleansed, unwilling to cross the crystal perimeter she had carved out for the British landing.
One of the British airships landed just outside the castle grounds. Soldiers and pilots disembarked swiftly, retrieving equipment from within the hull. Above them, winged horrors—drawn from the depths of the Black Forest—circled hungrily. Colditz had remained quiet for a reason. Even the beasts hesitated now, unwilling to descend, preferring to stalk from the clouds in hopes of snatching prey from the sky.
The British soldiers worked quickly, assembling tall, lamp-like devices that emitted a mechanical hum. With a soft whirl, the machines projected a shimmering net across the safe-zone's perimeter—expanding outward like a protective dome. The airborne creatures screeched and scattered, repelled by the invisible barrier.
“What kind of technology is that?” one of the Colditz soldiers whispered from within the crowd. “It scares away the demons…”
Their surrender was quietly underway.
An elderly British general, flanked by his command staff, surveyed the town with sharp eyes. His gaze stopped at the church, its dark spire cutting through the gloom.
“Check that area,” he instructed a nearby soldier.
The soldier obeyed, rushing across the courtyard and pushing open the heavy doors. He stopped abruptly at the threshold—his expression shifting.
He returned moments later, face grave. “Sir, there are injured inside. Dozens.”
“Fetch our medics. Prioritise treatment. They have until dawn to stabilise everyone,” the general ordered without hesitation.
The man saluted and set off. The general then turned, locking eyes with a figure approaching from the castle—General Kazan, posture stiff, eyes suspicious.
“I am General Arthur Lennox,” the British officer said, extending a hand in formal greeting. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m not pleased to meet you,” Kazan replied, voice clipped, but he shook Lennox’s hand out of courtesy.
“At least your manners are excellent,” Lennox replied dryly. “Ah—did we interrupt your dinner?”
“Yes, you did,” Kazan answered curtly.
“Then perhaps we can offer this as a peace token?” Lennox motioned to one of his men, who stepped forward with a crowbar and pried open a crate. Inside were wheels of cheese, canned goods, frozen steaks, wine and beer, freshly-fished, eels, and river fish.
Kazan glanced over the contents and gestured to his men. “Distribute this to the troops. Ensure they eat well. Alcohol is prohibited until after we attack the Den.”
The Colditz soldiers cheered and moved quickly, forming lines as the supplies were handed out. The atmosphere shifted—grim weariness giving way to flickers of hope.
“I take it this is a truce, General Kazan?” Lennox asked.
“Not yet,” Kazan replied firmly. “Not until you help us destroy the Den.”32Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiEKJH1Hsom
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The dining hall buzzed with life, filled with clinking utensils and murmured conversations. Despite her cherubic appearance, Juliet devoured her meal with abandon, prompting Sister Hildegard to lightly tap her on the back.
“Dear child, where are your table manners? Sister Eva isn’t eating like a pig,” she admonished in a stern whisper.
Juliet leaned in, hissing back, “That’s because she only eats peas. No wonder her cat looks like a starved potato!”
Sister Hildegard frowned, perplexed. “Aren’t potatoes fat?”
They continued their bickering while Eva silently nibbled on steamed vegetables. Rin, seated beside her, leaned over and gently swapped Eva’s untouched steak for a grilled fish.
“Here, try this. If meat’s not your thing, people around here love their grease.”
Eva smiled in appreciation, still daintily picking at her plate.
Across the table, Dr. Wagner was recounting a grim tale. “We sent ten scouts deep into the Saxon Switzerland. They stumbled upon a trail of carcasses leading toward the Den. Only one made it back—barely alive.”
General Lennox, calmly slicing through his steak, asked, “What happened to him?”
“He transformed. The beast’s infection spread through a scratch. General Kazan slew him before I could study the mutation. A shame.” Wagner handed Lennox a weathered document.
Dr. Wagner then eyed the general with veiled suspicion. “We suspect the Den is where these demonic creatures were summoned—by you—to secure victory for your ‘Motherland’ through unnatural means.”
Lennox snorted, chewing his steak with disinterest. “Please. Your so-called Aryan scientists would experiment on Jews—and your own kin—if it suited your ambitions. We didn’t summon anything.”
He flipped open the document and examined the map with its ominous red Xs.
At the middle of the table, Constantine hadn’t touched her meal. She stared at it with a strange longing.
“Al—Constantine, don’t you like it?” Eva asked softly. “You can have my peas.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t fart your way to the moon,” Schrödinger muttered, unimpressed.
“If I had, I’d be discovering new civilisations and spreading my Edamame influence across galaxies,” Eva replied, deadpan.
Schrödinger blinked at her, feline face stuck in a rare expression of disbelief.
“No, but thank you,” Constantine finally said, pushing the bowl away.
“If you’re not eating that, can I?” Juliet piped up.
“Juliet! You eat too much,” Sister Hildegard scolded again, sotto voce.
“It’s yours,” Constantine said, offering her plate. “You clearly need it more than I do. Even as part of the... motherhood, you must work hard.”
“Sisterhood,” Sister Hildegard corrected gently. “Yes, she’s been helping with the injured.”
Juliet accepted the plate, her smile faltering for a moment as Constantine's words hit a little too close. She let out a nervous laugh and murmured thanks.
At the other end, General Lennox, General Kazan, and Dr. Wagner were deep in discussion, planning an expedition into the heart of the Black Forest. Meanwhile, Eva, Juliet, Sister Hildegard, and Rin spoke about etiquette—Eva appearing increasingly bewildered and amused by the nuances of formal table manners.
The warmth in the room was a rare comfort. With food now plentiful after long shortages, the soldiers and guests savoured every bite.
The dining hall doors creaked open. A weary-looking lieutenant stepped inside. Juliet spotted him immediately and waved, gesturing toward the only free seat—next to Constantine.
He approached slowly, but just as he reached for the chair, it was snatched away.
“Constantine! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” a sharp voice rang out.
The room fell into silence.
General Lennox tensed. General Kazan leaned back in his chair with mild curiosity.
The lieutenant remained standing, fuming at the man who’d taken his seat.
“Young man, please—sit here,” Rin offered, rising gracefully.
“Retiring so soon?” asked Sister Hildegard.
“Yes,” Rin replied, smiling. “It’s well past my bedtime. Eva, Juliet—thank you for the delightful conversation.”
She exited as the lieutenant took her seat beside Eva.
Schrödinger eyed him darkly from the floor but was interrupted by a swift chop to the head from Eva.
“Don’t be rude!”
The cat slunk off with a pout—but not before snatching a chunk of steak from Juliet’s plate, who shrieked in protest as he vanished into the corridor.
The lieutenant began eating in silence, but his glances toward Eva didn’t go unnoticed. A flicker of unease appeared in her eyes—and in those of Juliet and Sister Hildegard.
A British soldier stepped quietly up to General Lennox, whispering into his ear.
“Sir, a fleet of G.I.s has entered Colditz. No authorisation from General Harvey.”
Lennox’s face darkened. “What?! Why wasn’t I informed?”
“They arrived unannounced—no time to notify you. My apologies, sir.”
Before Lennox could respond, the loud interloper who had stolen the lieutenant’s seat leaned across the table.
“General Lennox, don’t be so hard on your Tommies. You’re just struggling to keep up with America’s pace.”
He turned to Constantine, eyeing her boldly, as if trying to memorise every detail. Her bird-like tricorn hat shadowed her eyes, her posture withdrawn.
“In what kind of advancement, exactly, do you justify undermining my command?” Lennox’s voice was calm but edged with steel.
“America’s been gifted. We’ve acquired tech that will help us end this plague,” the man—Commander Herondale—declared without a hint of irony.
Dr. Wagner raised an eyebrow. “The world’s plague?”
“Oh, you don’t know what’s been happening outside this village, do you?” Herondale smirked.
General Kazan leaned forward, voice cool and formal. “This is the first contact we’ve had with the outside in eight months. Enlighten us.”
Herondale leaned back smugly. “Colditz wasn’t cut off by Berlin. Berlin cut you off. Your Third Reich abandoned this place—locked themselves away, hoping the beasts wouldn’t knock.”
Murmurs swept through the room. Herondale swept his golden hair aside and snapped his fingers.
A dozen American soldiers phase-shifted into the hall with a sharp crack of displaced air. Though armed and armoured, none of the Colditz guests reacted. They had seen far worse.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Herondale declared, “meet our tactical gear—capable of teleportation across distances. Only two jumps before recharging is needed. It draws on immense energy and must be manually restored using a mechanism similar to a rechargeable torch.”
Eva’s eyes narrowed. NIX Corp? They exist in this timeline too… Her gaze fixed on the gear. It was bulkier than she remembered, but unmistakably similar to that worn by enforcers from her world.
“Now,” Commander Herondale said with a grin, turning his full attention to Constantine, “I can finally catch up to my fiery lioness.”
Without warning, Constantine’s voice echoed inside every mind in the hall, her tone flat and distant:
“I want to be a duck.”
The room froze.
All conversation halted as guests and soldiers alike blinked, stunned by the sudden telepathic intrusion—except for General Lennox and his men, who seemed utterly unfazed, as if this was commonplace.
Herondale, briefly caught off guard, cleared his throat and straightened his uniform.
“You must have given everything to protect your King’s kingdom and the Commonwealth,” he began, smirking. “So, I’ve brought a gift—from America. A token of how we treat our patriots. Far better than the Tommies ever could.”
He held out a small, ornate box—heart-shaped, pink, and wholly out of place in war-torn Europe. Inside were carefully arranged chocolate truffles, glossy and absurdly pristine.
“Here. For you.”
Constantine’s expression twisted, not with shyness or embarrassment—but revulsion. She didn’t merely decline. Her voice came sharp, clear, and absolute:
“No.”
It wasn’t rejection. It was command.
Herondale flinched slightly, surprised. “Come on,” he coaxed, undeterred. “You haven’t eaten a bite since dinner began. I thought you might want something sweet.”
General Lennox shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel. “Have you been spying on her, Commander?”
Herondale ignored the comment. “Look—Britain and her allies rely on American power now. You’d do well to accept the goodwill. One chocolate, that’s all I ask—unless, of course, you want support for your Commonwealth to vanish.”
The dining hall turned heavy. British troops shifted uncomfortably. All eyes went to Constantine, who glanced at Lennox.
He subtly shook his head—don’t do it.
Still, she turned to the box, her gaze blank. With deliberate slowness, she picked the smallest chocolate and placed it in her mouth.
Herondale smiled triumphantly. “See? That wasn’t so hard. I told you it was delicious. I always pick the best—”
He stopped.
Constantine doubled over, clutching her abdomen. Her mouth twitched—then she violently spat the half-melted chocolate onto the table. A moment later, she gagged again, stumbling back as her form began to destabilise.
Gasps rang out as chairs scraped the floor. Fortunately, most had already finished eating and quickly backed away from the mess.
“LADY CONSTANTINE!” British soldiers rushed forward, but she threw a trembling hand up to stop them. Her body shimmered, warping at the edges—and then, in a blink, she vanished.
Gone. Teleported.
The room was left in stunned silence.
A long beat passed. Then the lieutenant leaned back in his chair with a crooked grin.
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Schloss Colditz, Colditz, Germany – November 4th, 1941 | 5:49 A.M.
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Weeks had passed since Constantine vanished after the infamous dining hall incident.
A gunshot rang out across the courtyard—sharp, deliberate. The bullet struck just centimetres from Commander Herondale’s boot, grazing the leather.
“Woah! Woah! Easy!” Herondale shouted, stumbling backward. “You don’t want me disabled!”
General Lennox didn’t lower his pistol. His eyes, cold and livid, burned through the American. “Oh, I want to do far worse to you. Thanks to your stunt, Britain has lost its Knight. What am I supposed to tell the King? That Constantine was killed by chocolate?!”
With seething precision, Lennox fired again—this time at a distant target several kilometres away. The shot struck dead-centre. Herondale wisely edged away from the furious general, deciding not to press his luck further.
Elsewhere in the fortress, in the training yard behind the eastern wall, Eva was in motion.
Dressed in modified nun’s robes stitched for combat flexibility, she moved through knife drills with a small unit of soldiers. Her form was precise, efficient—blending martial arts not yet known in this timeline.
Despite her official role as a field medic and nun, Eva had taken on a second post: troop instructor. It kept her sharp—and sane.
“Alright, that’s it for today,” she said, stepping back. “Sergeant Jasper, Duncan, Stein, Rosenberg—you’ve made real progress. Good work.”
She looked over the rest of the group. “The rest of you still need to improve your footwork and reaction timing. But overall, I’m impressed. Keep building your stamina.”
She offered a curt nod. “Class dismissed.”
Since the arrival of the British and the activation of the Net perimeter, both troops and villagers had finally found time to recover. With no wounded to treat, Eva had turned her focus to refining her physical prowess—and sharing her knowledge.
From the side, Sister Juliet clapped enthusiastically as she approached.
“You’re amazing! Oh—and General Lennox shot Herondale’s dummy for the sixty-sixth time today!” she whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Eva chuckled, only slightly amused.
Juliet tugged on her arm. “Dr. Wagner’s asking for you.”
They descended into the castle’s lower levels—cool stone corridors lit by oil lamps—until they reached Dr. Wagner’s laboratory. Inside, the scientist was hunched over a strange device, its form oddly similar to the American soldiers' teleportation harnesses.
“Ah, Sister Eva, Sister Juliet—thank you,” he said, quickly covering the device with a cloth. He removed his spectacles and turned to face them fully.
Before he could speak, the Lieutenant barged in, nearly tripping down the stone stairway. Schrödinger tumbled along with him, hissing and rolling.
“Are you alright, lad?” Dr. Wagner asked, rushing over.
Eva caught the cat mid-fall and checked the Lieutenant. He stood and dusted himself off.
“I’m fine, sir,” the Lieutenant muttered, only to catch Schrödinger’s narrowed eyes. He returned the glare—though Eva, noticing the look, misinterpreted it.
She glared right back at him, protective.
Schrödinger, pleased with the confusion, let out a smug, feline giggle and leapt onto Eva’s shoulder triumphantly.
“Well,” Dr. Wagner said with a sigh, “since no bones are broken, we can begin.”
He moved to the centre of the room. “You’ve both been selected for reconnaissance on the Den.”
That caught their attention. Schrödinger stiffened. Eva straightened. The Lieutenant frowned.
Eva raised a hand. “I’m sorry—did you say now?”
“Yes,” Wagner replied seriously. “General Lennox and General Kazan have approved the mission. We march within the hour, without Constantine. The objective is to locate and identify the origin point of the infestation—the source of the demonic creatures spreading across the continent.”
He gestured towards the door. “You’re both assigned to reconnaissance—each of you under direct command. Lennox and Kazan will lead separate flanks.”
Dr. Wagner picked up a notepad, absently scribbling notes as he spoke. “Now—go prepare. You’ve got one hour. Good luck.”
Without another word, he waved them out and returned to fiddling with what looked like a prototype of the SDN (Spatial Distortion Navigation) Equipment.
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***
The Saxon Switzerland region lay cloaked in frost and fog. Dew clung to the leaves like glass beads, and the mist crawled along the forest floor with spectral grace. The sun had yet to rise—hidden by the looming approach of the winter solstice.
British and Colditz troops hiked through the dense forest, their boots crunching over frozen undergrowth. Improvised torches affixed to their caps provided dim, flickering light in the white murk. Orientation was a constant battle; they had been wandering through the fog-shrouded trees for hours in search of the Den.
General Lennox blew sharply on his whistle. The sound cut through the still air. “We make camp here until the fog clears!” he barked.
His voice echoed off the trees. The soldiers began assembling a temporary encampment with mechanical efficiency. Fires were lit for warmth, though the cold only grew harsher, and the fog thickened as if resisting their presence.
“This is going to be difficult,” Lennox muttered, peering into the mist. “If the sun doesn’t come out soon, we’re flying blind.”
General Kazan sat beside him, smoking. “Let’s just hope our scouts find the Den before the temperature drops further.”
He exhaled a plume of smoke, then frowned. “Is it just me—or are some of our troops missing?”
Both generals scanned their surroundings. Behind them, a gnarled tree slowly twisted, revealing a humanoid shape—its bark-like body and glowing eyes smiling with quiet menace.
Higher up the hill, Eva moved like a shadow, barely winded. The Lieutenant, somehow keeping pace, followed closely. Schrödinger clung to her shoulder, his tail twitching.
“Clingy German,” the cat grumbled.
The Lieutenant didn’t miss a beat. “We’re here. This is the Den.”
Eva doubled over slightly, catching her breath, hands on her knees after kilometres of terrain.
Then—gunshots. Muffled, distant, echoing through the silent forest.
“Our squad’s under attack!” Eva sprang up and turned, ready to sprint—only for the Lieutenant to grip her arm firmly.
“What are you doing?!” she demanded, trying to wrench free—but his strength was unnaturally firm.
“Warten! Wait!” he hissed, eyes fixed on something behind her.
Sensing the threat, Eva conjured her M.J.O.L.N.I.R.—a deceptively plain kitchen knife now glowing faintly—and spun, holding it low and ready.
There, emerging through the fog, was a figure in white. Its robe billowed like a curtain in windless air. A crown of twigs crowned its hollow, angular head.
The spectre halted. Schrödinger hissed.
“What is that?” Eva said, lowering into a defensive stance. “That’s not a Void I recognise.”
“It’s a Mythomorph,” Schrödinger said, eyes narrowed. “They’re born from heavy Resonance fields... sometimes called Children of Thorns. I’m not sure which tale this one comes from.”
The Lieutenant whispered: “Erlkönig—a fairy king from German folklore. A child-stealer.”
Eva’s expression hardened. “Then it attacked our squad?”
Before she could act, the spectre raised a thin hand.
“You must leave the forest—before they return.”
“Why?” Eva asked, stalling for time. The Lieutenant kept his weapon drawn, watching the thing closely.
“They are not from this world. You are under-armed and unprepared to face them. Even you—out of place in this timeline—cannot stop them.”
Eva froze. “What do you know about the Interstice?”
“I do not know what they’ve done to your world… or the one before it. I only know they seek the Ænigma.”
Schrödinger perked up. “Ænigma? Never heard of it. What do they want with it?”
“There is no time. They’re returning. You must—leave!”
The Erlkönig turned to go—but Eva stood her ground. “I need answers.”
“Curiosity kills the cat,” the spectre murmured, approaching slowly.
“Really?” Schrödinger muttered, unimpressed.
The Lieutenant fired. Several shots tore through the Erlkönig’s mist-like body, making it ripple.
“So be it.”
The fairy king lunged.
“Omamori! (御守 / お守り!)”
A shout rang out from behind. The spectral figure convulsed in pain as its form solidified. Gunfire followed—General Lennox and General Kazan had arrived, guided by the sound of the Lieutenant’s earlier shots.
The Erlkönig staggered back into the mist.
“I’ve warned you... the danger lies within the cave. One among you at the castle is a traitor. If you seek the Ænigma—ask a Shard. Ask Constantine. But be warned: ignorance is bliss.”
With that, the spectre vanished into the fog.
A moment later, static crackled through General Lennox’s radio.
“Squadron Six, report! Where are you?”
A strained voice answered, “We’ve been taken back to Colditz, sir!”
Lennox’s brows knitted. “How?!”
Another voice chimed in—clearly struggling to explain. “We were... sort of kidnapped by... by a Wald... Waldleute! They danced—surrounded Saxon Switzerland—and threw Sergeant Beckham onto his back when he tried to follow them!”
“Waldleute, sir,” a calmer voice added. “They carried us back to Colditz. We didn’t resist. Should we attempt to return to you?”
“Negative. Stay put,” General Kazan said sharply. “We’ll proceed with the reconnaissance.”
“Is that wise, sir?” came the hesitant reply.
“No,” General Lennox said. “But it’s the right call. If you don’t hear from us by dusk—assume we’re dead. Return to Britain. Bring reinforcements. Over and out.”
The group entered the cave system with weapons drawn and nerves taut.
The descent was long. The air grew colder, tighter. Claustrophobia gnawed at them as they squeezed through jagged passages, crawled over wet stone, and descended further into the earth. Eventually, they reached what appeared to be a dead end.
General Lennox sighed. “Dead end. Brilliant. Why am I not surprised?”
“I can’t believe our scout led us here,” Kazan grumbled, sitting on a rock.
Eva approached the wall, eyes narrowing.
Her irises shimmered—fluid colours pulsating beneath the surface of her gaze. She stepped closer to the wall, her senses humming.
“Schrödy, this wall isn’t natural. Something’s cloaking it.”
“Only one way to find out,” the cat said.
He leapt at the wall—and disappeared.
“Schrödy!” Eva called out.
“What happened?” Lennox approached. Schrödinger’s head popped out of the stone.
“Come on! You’ll want to see this. And stop calling me Schrödy—it’s Schrödinger!”
He vanished again.
Eva passed through the illusion, followed by the generals and the Lieutenant. On the other side, they entered a cavern far larger than expected.
And at its centre: a ship.
A massive, alien structure. Walls shimmered with hard light. A holographic interface pulsed with unreadable script.
As they stepped inside, the display flared red:
“INTRUDER DETECTED. CALLING SECURITY REINFORCEMENT.”
Of course, they couldn't read it.
Eva’s eyes scanned the structure. Schrödinger climbed onto her shoulder again.
“This isn’t Earth tech,” Eva murmured. “Not even in 2203. You think they’re from the future?”
“No,” Schrödinger said, nose twitching. “Doesn’t smell like Earth at all.”
They moved deeper down a corridor lined with strange doors. Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed Eva’s arm.
She nearly sliced it off—until a desperate voice called, “Please! I need your help to get out of here!”
Eva yanked her arm back, kitchen knife in hand.
“You’re asking the wrong nun,” she snapped.
“But... you are a nun,” the voice said weakly.
“I’m undercover,” she deadpanned.
The grip loosened. She turned to walk away—until the man shouted:
“They know you’re here!”
Eva paused. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve been trapped here for eight months. I’ve learned to understand some of their language,” the voice said. He poked a finger through the narrow slit of the door, pointing to the red holographic signs.
“I know a way out of this maze.”
Eva exhaled. The corridor stretched endlessly behind her. She had no bearings. No map.
The door peeled open, and light spilled across the corridor.
“Alright,” she said. “I’m kind of lost. No funny business—or I dice you.”
“Yes, ma’am!” the man replied, his voice trembling with relief.
“I’m Eva,” she said, falling into step behind him. “What’s your name?”
“Victor Neumann.”
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