Perfect, Nova. You've got a
"Eighteen years ago today, a classified space vessel—codename VIREN-12—crashed while returning from a deep space mission near the Quor X anomaly. Of the nine crew members aboard, only one was found. Seven were confirmed dead. One is still missing."
The news played on loop in a dusty old electronics shop, the screen flickering, half-buried behind cracked radios and secondhand speakers. No one paid attention—except the shadows.
One missing.
"Next, we have Asterin Roe with her chosen topic," the teacher announced, voice tired.
Ash walked slowly to the front of the class, her notes shaking slightly in her hand. Her uniform was too big, secondhand, ironed stiff. But her eyes—those eyes were sharp, distant, like they belonged to someone far older.
"My topic is… the Quor X anomaly."
A few students whispered.
She continued, her voice steady, almost rehearsed too well.
"Eighteen years ago, a ship entered a space anomaly known as Quor X. Only fragments returned. Data was lost. Lives, too. The event remains unexplained. Some say it's a black hole. Others, a loop. But I believe... it's something that remembers."
She paused, swallowing hard.
"They say every 18 years, it stirs again. Today... marks 18 years."
A sudden flicker in the lights.
Everyone laughed it off. Coincidence.
Later, back home, the world changed color.
Ash dropped her bag on the floor of the tiny, one-room apartment. Her mother barely looked up from the couch. Her father was yelling at someone on the phone, bills piled on the broken table.
No food. Rent overdue. Same as every month.
Ash went to her corner, sat on the mattress, and buried her face in her hands. Tired. Always tired.
Then—thump.
Something slipped through the door slit.
A letter.
No stamp. No name. Just a black seal—an emblem burned into the paper.
A crescent circle, split in eight, with one missing piece.
She turned it over.
Inside, a single line:
"You are ready."
And below it:
"Marrek Institute for Space-Time Research. Coordinates enclosed."