Chapter’s 1 and 2 will try and update weekly.

The suns of Pegasi 51 b dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the barren landscape. In the twilight, a silent procession of cargo ships descended, their hulls emblazoned with no insignia, their origins a mystery. The rebels watched from their hidden encampments, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

The alarm wasn’t supposed to go off yet. Sarah's heart raced as she blinked at the harsh red digits glowing on her bedside table: 3:00 AM. She groaned, pushing the blankets off her body and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It was too early for this. 

As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she glanced at the alarm clock. She had set it for 7:00 AM, a full hour earlier than usual, and there had been no reason for it to go off now. Confused, she reached for the clock, but before she could check the settings, the shrill beeping stopped abruptly.

She couldn’t remember how she got here. The room was dimly lit, with shadows dancing on the walls from a flickering candle. The air was thick with the scent of old books and something else she couldn’t quite place. She sat up slowly, her head throbbing with a dull ache, and tried to piece together the fragments of her memory.

The last thing she recalled was walking through the bustling city streets, the evening sun casting long shadows as she hurried home. There had been a strange man, his face obscured by a hood, who had approached her with a question she couldn’t now remember. Then, nothing

Clara blinked awake, her heart racing, as the remnants of the dream faded like morning mist. She lay still for a moment, the sunlight filtering through the lace curtains, casting intricate patterns on her quilt. The dream had felt so real—so vivid. In it, she had stood at the edge of an endless ocean, waves crashing against the shore, each swell a whisper of secrets and forgotten memories. 

She sat up, brushing her hair back from her face, recalling the details. A distant figure had beckoned her from the water, their face obscured by shadows, yet the weight of their presence lingered, pulling Clara into an emotional whirlpool. It was an ache she couldn’t quite name, neither joy nor sorrow—an unresolved feeling that had plagued her for as long as she could remember.

With a heavy thud, the Draco Star crash-landed its metallic hull tearing through the dense forest of 13th century Earth. The impact sent debris flying in all directions, causing the surrounding wildlife to scatter in fear. Zara, dazed and disoriented, struggled to regain her senses as smoke billowed from the damaged vessel.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow upon the ancient city of New Orleans. Lorelei Devereaux, a young woman of extraordinary beauty, found herself drawn to the heart of the French Quarter. She had always been captivated by the enigmatic charm of the city, its rich history and the whispers of the supernatural that lingered in the air. 

Nestled amidst rolling hills and ancient forests, Barkley had always borne a mysterious air, harboring secrets within its weathered walls. Its once-thriving communities now lay deserted, an eerie hush settling upon each empty home and forgotten street. Some whispered that an otherworldly presence had driven the townsfolk away, while others believed it was simply the work of time and an encroaching modern world.

Agent Michael Sterling latest assignment had taken him deep within an international criminal syndicate known as the Black Iris. Led by the enigmatic Dimitri Vasilyev, the Black Iris held Europe in its iron grip, a formidable force with arms reaching into every major city. But Mike, as he was known to his fellow agents, was trained to dismantle such organizations from the inside out.

Mark was a busy man, running his own business and overseeing a

 team of employees. With so much on his plate, he found it difficult to