The dropship had come to rest at a steep angle, its belly embedded in the forest floor, sunlight streaming through the jagged tear in its hull. Beyond that gap: a world of impossible green. Trees taller than anything on the Ark, their branches tangled in a canopy that swallowed the sky in patches.

The others were already spilling out behind Y/n—a tide of grey jumpsuits and pale faces squinting against the unfiltered sun. Some laughed. Some cried. A boy with a mop of dark hair—Jasper, Y/n thought—was already darting toward the treeline, whooping like a child set loose.

The air was warm, but a shiver traced Y/n's spine nonetheless. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called out—a sound Y/n had only ever heard described in old archives.

Then a girl's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

Behind her, the forest seemed to breathe.