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The station, officially designated as , was never meant to be a permanent home. It was a needle of steel and glass threaded into the spine of the world, built to listen to the whispers of the upper atmosphere.

As if on cue, a low groan shivered through the floorboards. It wasn't the wind. It was the mountain itself. Elias looked back out the window. The blue lights of the landing pad flickered. He was waiting for a transport ship that was already three days overdue, grounded by the perpetual storms that lashed the lower altitudes. 7E6C9A28-F7F3-45EA-BD96-7CDDC7190E7B.jpeg

Suddenly, the "Deep Pulse" didn't just register on the screens; it became audible. A hum that rattled his teeth. On the horizon, the clouds didn't just part—they were blown away by a massive upward surge of heat. The station, officially designated as , was never