A volley of stars collapsed from the ashen black sky with a bellow. Vetyn witnessed the fall from the circular window of the ship, a withering scowl upon her brows. The stars trembled in the roars wake, descending the earth with a mighty courage. The lurid, silver light that tarried with the meteors dragged it from the universe like a curtain, thieving the glow that once thrummed within its palm. The earth was to perish in minutes, and all Vetyn could do was watch. Her blood brewed. “Gods have mercy upon us,” Vetyn’s mother, Claudia, whispered, mopping the alcove of her eye with a handkerchief. “Our home is no longer ours.” “It was never ours,” she hissed. It was bound to be inhaled by fate’s maw, to be quashed betwixt its rotted teeth. It so happened the day was now. “Don’t say such things,” Claudia chided and glanced upon her daughter rather mortified, tears glossing her woeful cinnamon eyes. “It was always ours.” Was it? Earth and its council were forewarned of the prophecy to enslave the planet, and only some had harked. The remnants whom did not oblige to Fate were now deceased. “Is that what dad used to say?” She muttered and espied the chamber. The observatory was glossed in a sheen of pallid pearl, a colonnade of windows bolstered up upon the walls. Each window was claimed by a person or four, their woe begotten eyes veering into the frenzy that was once their galaxy. A sheaf windows, Vetyn had noticed, were a family with juvenile babes young as three, the innocence upon their countenance cleansed with a glum veil of fear. They clung to a towering adult, their bodies trembling. It made her heart prune. “Your father always believed in The Rite,” Said mother. “Not… this.” The Rite was parchment signed by an archaic race, supposedly within the dawn of creation, to preserve the universe and its gift to mankind from its malevolent counterpart Domnium. Mortals allotted Earth. The remainder conquered the obscured. “The Rite foretold the prophecy,” Vetyn mumbled and retreated the observatory with a march, hands shoved within her pockets. “I’m going to eat.” It was torment to stand there and witness the earth vanquished by the stars, let alone hark the sorrow oozing from the remnants from earth and listen to her mother vent about The Rite. It was enow to drought the soul within her dry. Claudia nodded idly, and shifted her attention upon the window, heaving a long sigh. “Return soon.” *** Shoving open the double doors with a shoulder, Vetyn was met with the ships galley. It shared the same hue of white as the observatory, but occupied less ocular windows. The only window she could witnesses was three stamped upon each individual wall. How generous. Cream, rectangular tables lingered within the chamber, timbre flat chairs dwelling behind them. A tedious and long, singular line lingered bestride the vast portions of cuisine, trays and silver platter bedded upon it. Vetyn thieved a place by the tail, and poked out to survey the prow. A gollumpous, middle-aged woman stood behind the counter, pouring sage green slop within a balding man’s bowl. A grotesque sneer was carved upon her pruned lips, her dull winter blue eyes pinched to a squint. A litter of pimples, anew and scarred, tainted the wobbling flesh upon her countenance every beat she scoffed a word, her bulbous nose twitching slyly. A pearl toque was perched atop her head, marred with a collection of oil and grease grime. “Next,” The chef rumbled, and Vetyn stepped forward. She plucked a tray and bloomed out the bowl. The chef poured a generous spoonful of dull green slime within it, causing the bowl to quiver. Vetyn’s lips curled. A redolent stench of beans and onions rippled through her senses, conquering the five others that threatened to depart her. She blinked away the burning tears plucking the apex of her eyes, and said in kind, “Do you have meat, or something else available?” The chef’s brows knitted, sniping a bone-numbing stare. “No,” She stated coolly. “I don’t. Only greens.” “I’m only asking because—”  “Next!” Vetyn gritted her teeth. “Asshole.” She seethed and lugged upon a table, surveying the macabre meal staring back at her with a queer leer. Disquiet, she frowned. She couldn’t consume it. It was vile, and would not provide her with the sustenance that was needed. Vegetables and the live crop upon the earth were not to be extinguished. They were the voice of the Creator, her— “Are you going to eat that or not.” She whipped her head upward. A male with jet black locks sat before her, the sides of his cranium shaved. The fringe on his forehead dangled by both tamed brows, a crimson healed scar dragging down the left. An assemblage of black-inked tattoos snaked up both toned arms, for he was garb in a black tank top, inlaid with a band logo. Silver cuffs gorged both wrists, the artificial light of the galley thrumming upon the metal. “Are you going to pester me when you know what my answer will be?” Vetyn huffed and shoved the tray forward. “I’m not eating this shit.” “That’s all we’ll be getting until we disembark for Planet Zero.” The male drawled, scooping a generous amount of slop with a spoon and inhaling it whole. She cringed. “I’d rather eat a dozen rats.” “We both know that won’t happen.” He retorted and shoved the tray back before Vetyn. “Eat.” Marcus knew the correct buttons to toy. “_No_.” “Mother wouldn’t be pleased.” Marcus arched a brow, the silver bar sewed within it jutting. Mother was hardly thrilled with anything. “I don’t care what she thinks.” A sigh escaped him. “For Alora’s sake, will you please just listen for once.” Vetyn’s heart sank to her gut. “Take that back.” “You know as well as I that she would have wanted you to eat and not starve yourself to death whilst we’re jailed here,” Marcus reclined on the seat, beholding Vetyn’s glower. “So eat, Vey.” “Fuck you,” She sniped and slipped the tray aside. “bringing our sister into this as if she were leverage to force me to erase my vow.” Grief plunged its blade into her chest. Alora wouldn’t daith resurrect the reasons she refused to lay a single leaf upon her tongue. Especially now. Marcus shrugged. “Just saying. Better to ask whatever God you lament to for forgiveness than shrink to a decaying husk.” Her fists curled. “I’m not decaying to a husk—” “Is everything alright?” Vetyn and Marcus veered behind them. A woman with silver tresses that cascade a shoulder greeted their gaze, her almond molded eyes warm with welcome. A pigment of cherry pink shadow dusted them, a narrow edged cut black liner dancing upon its nook. The stranger appeared youthful, Vetyn presumed eighteen, garb in a pearl tee that shimmered and shook with the light. She graced the pair a a wave, then pointed to the barren seat aside Vetyrn. “May I sit?” Vetyn pried her mouth open, but the stranger stole the chair before a word could escape. “I’m leaving.” Marcus drawled and fled, leaving the bowl behind him. The seraphic stranger dipped forward, whispering with a lilt of a jest, “Is he always this dramatic?” “Ask him yourself.” Was all she murmured, before she scrutinized the stranger. Up close, Vetyn could spy a golden cuff curved upon the crevice of their lemon tarnished lips. Ginger freckles were peppered on her meek cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, subtle to the far sighted eye. She leaned back, “Who are you?” “Maddie,” Her smile bloomed. “I saw you refuse your meal in front of Harriet.” That was the ogres name? Befitting for a miserable toad. “Great.” She scoffed. _What an astounding first impression. _ “Harriet doesn’t permit personal orders when it comes to meals”— Maddie’s gaze trekked to Harriet— “I’ve tried.” Then it returned to Vetyn. “And failed horrendously.” “Maybe she needs a clout to the head.” She said, and Maddie chuckled. “She may charge after you for that.” “She can bloody well try,” Vetyn huffed. “She wouldn’t be able to catch up to me, not with those feet.” The lights trembled and flashed. The gentle rouse of the galley melted to a numbing silence, heads clashing and peering upward to the source. The lights winked for three beats, gray smoke showering the chamber. A whistle sprouted, the poignant stench of sulfur flaring to life. Sparks soared like thunder, collapsing atop the tile and devouring the galley in darkness. Fear bit into her chest. Screams and wails imploded, grotesque groans of chairs dragging upon the surface echoing in its wake. Vetyn shot up from her seat, gasping when the floor teetered beneath her feet. She couldn’t see. All she could sense was the abyss dancing around her, and the screeches harmonizing with it in its wake. She brandished both hands violently to hunt for something, _anything_, to cling upon, but was met with the fleeting hands of bleak wind. The ship trembled and sagged left, the furniture gliding and colliding upon a wall with a thunderous slam. “Fuck,” Gravity yanked her to a keel, dragging her to the nearest wall with a mighty thud. A groan fled her as she slid down the surface, agony thrumming through the pillar of her spine. “Veytn?!” A voice cried, before an unearthly roar pulsed through the ship. The furor fell to a blinding halt, before it erected to a crescendo. They weren’t alone.