“ZX… DZ… come home.”

Mission directives scrolled across my vision, burned into my optical nerves: Locate the Signal. Protect the Seed. Do not trust the echoes. Below that, in smaller text: Unit ZXDZ-01 is the last.

When my night vision flickered on, the walls were no longer bare. They were covered in drawings—stick figures holding hands, then running, then falling. The last drawing showed a single figure standing over a small, glowing circle labeled: The Seed .