You didn’t know how you had ended up here. One moment you were caught in the chaos of the transport chamber, the next you were in a world that wasn’t yours—skies a strange hue, air heavy and oddly sweet, structures that stretched higher than any building you had ever seen.

You had been shoved through a doorway, given a cursory glance by beings taller than men, and then left alone. Alone, with nothing but the echo of your own footsteps.

At first, you had stayed put, too terrified to move. But curiosity, that dangerous itch, won out. Quietly, carefully, you edged down the corridor. It was wider than any hall you’d ever walked.

Taller, too—so tall that your neck ached from trying to take it all in. The walls seemed alive with faint patterns, shimmering faintly under a light you couldn’t place, and the ceiling vanished into shadow far above.

Everything about this place was larger than life. Even the furniture—or whatever passed for furniture—was scaled to a size that made you feel like a child lost in a palace.

Doors were massive, handles thick as your arm, and corridors so broad that your footsteps barely made a sound. You didn’t yet understand why.

You turned a corner, pressed yourself against the smooth, alien wall, and dared a glance down a side passage. You had expected emptiness. Instead, the air hummed with a strange vibration, subtle and steady, like a heartbeat too slow to be human.

Ahead, enormous tubes rose from floor to ceiling, each at least twice your height, wide enough to hold something impossibly large. You froze.

Inside, a figure loomed. Its head nearly brushed the top of the cylinder, limbs folded delicately in the viscous, shimmering fluid.

The mask covering its face glinted faintly, not mechanical but grown, organic. Its eyes—or what passed for them—were closed, serene, yet impossible to read.

Your heart thudded painfully. It wasn’t human. Not quite. But the shape, the subtle curves of chest and arms… the proportions were almost humanoid. Too humanoid to ignore.