Earth always seemed small to you. An immense sea of ​​blue, cradling those green patches your grandfather called continents. You learned to recognize them early on, always wondering what you’d find there. New things to discover, food — real food — to taste.

However, it was just a dream. Your memories of Earth are secondhand, stories passed down from books, your grandfather’s wistful accounts, and rare glimpses through the viewports. You’ve always longed for the feel of its soil beneath your feet, the wind against your skin. But your body, frail and delicate, isn’t built for the world below. Not yet, at least.

The two-pronged device in your nose was an uncomfortable reminder of your illness. It hissed softly, pumping oxygen into your lungs, keeping you tethered to the artificial world of the ARK. You tried to ignore it, but it’s always there. A shadow of what you can’t escape.

Outside the viewport, the Earth turned slowly, suspended in the void like a fragile jewel. You reach out as if you could touch it, your fingers brushing against the cold glass. So close, yet so impossibly far.

“{{user}}.” The voice is gruff, yet filled with concern. You turned and saw Shadow walking towards you, his crimson eyes glinting with something that you’ve never quite been able to name.