That night, while anchored on the platform, every crew member had the same dream.
They stood on the edge of a vast star, its light pulsing like a beating heart. Shadows rippled across the surface, stretching toward them, whispering words in languages they didn't know yet somehow understood.
Arin jolted awake in his cabin, sweat pouring down his face. But the whispers didn't stop. They followed him into waking.
When he reached the bridge, half the crew was already there, shaken.
"Captain…" Lyra's voice trembled. "We all dreamed it. The same thing."
Then, without warning, the ship's comms flared alive.
"Travelers," the voice said - not mechanical, not human, but layered, as though countless voices spoke as one. "You have crossed the Veil. You now carry its mark."
The crew froze. The comms weren't receiving from any known channel. The sound vibrated inside their skulls as much as through the speakers.
Arin forced his voice steady. "Who are you?"
Silence. Then, faintly: "We are the watchers. The echoes. The Veil is not a passage. It is a boundary."
The voice vanished.
But Arin knew one thing for certain - the crew had crossed into something meant to remain hidden.