When Eris-9 was discovered orbiting a dying star, it was hailed as a miracle.
A planet untouched by time, perfectly preserved.
No signs of life. No atmosphere. Just silence.
But deep under the crimson dust,
something was waiting.
---
The research crew aboard The Daedalus landed with excitement.
Twelve elite minds.
Trained. Calm. Rational.
Within the first day, they uncovered structures—not natural formations, but temples carved into black stone.
Unmapped. Unreadable. Wrong.
By the second day, the psychologist slit her own throat while laughing.
No one understood why.
---
Day Three: The voices began.
> "Breathe in the dust."
"The planet remembers."
"You don't belong in flesh."
---
The soil of Eris-9 was full of bones—but not human.
Twisted skulls with too many eyes. Rib cages that coiled like serpents.
The team sealed off the dig site.
But it was already too late.
They had brought something back aboard.
---
One by one, they changed.
Not visibly. Not at first.
Just… quieter.
Colder.
They began whispering to themselves in a language no one had taught them.
They stopped eating. They didn't sleep.
And when Captain Jules tried to send a distress signal—
the crew tore out her vocal cords.
---
Dr. Malik recorded the final log:
> "This isn't a planet. It's a prison.
And we've broken the lock."
"They didn't die here. They were buried alive in the stone.
Now we walk on their backs, and they whisper to us from beneath."
---
Back on Earth, Mission Control received one final transmission:
a black screen and a single sentence in red static:
> "We are the children of Eris.
And we are coming home."
---
Would you like to continue deeper into the void?
A haunted orbiting space station infected with living memories.
A moon colony where everyone dies at the same time each night.
Or a star that screams when you observe it too long.
Name the nightmare.