The Conspiracy
The days passed slowly, the tension around the ranch growing with each new sunrise. Joseph couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them, lurking just beyond the borders of his land. The disappearances had continued—more livestock gone, a few neighboring ranch hands missing without a trace. It wasn’t long before the rumors reached a fever pitch. People whispered about things in the night, creatures that weren’t quite human, but not quite animal either. Shapeshifters, they called them—beings capable of assuming human form but who could shed that guise at will, becoming something far more dangerous.
Joseph wasn’t one to give in to superstition. He had always been a practical man, grounded in the hard realities of ranch life. He believed in what he could see, what he could touch. But there were too many strange things happening, too many stories that lined up too perfectly to ignore. The noises at night, the shifting shadows, the unnatural stillness that had settled over the land—it all pointed to something more sinister than a pack of rogue predators.
His wife, Lila, was the only one he confided in about his growing unease. The children were too young to understand the danger, and Joseph didn’t want to scare them with stories of monsters in the dark. But Lila had noticed his restlessness, the way he patrolled the ranch at odd hours, his rifle slung over his shoulder. She didn’t ask questions—she trusted him to handle whatever was happening—but Joseph could see the worry in her eyes. She kept the children close, never letting them wander too far from the house, and they both agreed that it was best to keep a low profile until they could figure out what was going on.
Then came the night that changed everything.
Joseph had been riding the fence line, his usual evening patrol, when he saw it—a flicker of movement in the distance, something that didn’t belong. At first, he thought it might have been an animal, but as he squinted into the darkness, he realized it was far too large, far too upright. He guided his horse closer, keeping to the shadows, moving silently as he approached. His heart pounded in his chest, his grip tightening on the reins. The figure ahead was hunched, its outline indistinct against the horizon, but there was something undeniably human about it. And yet, it moved in a way that was not human at all—quick, low to the ground, disappearing and reappearing in the blink of an eye.
Joseph’s instincts screamed at him to turn back, to retreat to the safety of his home, but something held him in place. He couldn’t let this go. Not now, not with his family so close by. He urged his horse forward, staying low, his eyes locked on the strange figure ahead.
As he drew nearer, the figure disappeared into a dense patch of brush, and Joseph dismounted, tying his horse to a nearby tree. He moved cautiously, stepping quietly over the uneven terrain, his boots sinking into the soft earth. The night was eerily quiet, the usual chorus of crickets and night birds absent, as if the entire world was holding its breath.
When Joseph reached the ridge, he crouched low, peering down into the small clearing below. His breath caught in his throat.
There, hidden in the brush, was a camp—one he had never seen before, despite knowing every inch of this land like the back of his hand. A small fire crackled in the center, casting long shadows over the figures gathered around it. Joseph’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. There were at least a dozen of them, hunched figures moving in and out of the firelight, their forms shifting unnervingly. Some appeared human, but their movements were wrong—too fluid, too quick, as if they were struggling to maintain their human shape. Others had already shed their disguises, revealing their true forms—hulking, wolf-like beasts with elongated fangs, savage claws, and eyes that gleamed in the firelight with a feral intensity.
Joseph’s heart raced as he crouched lower, watching from the safety of the ridge. The creatures moved with purpose, speaking in low, guttural tones that sent chills down his spine. He couldn’t make out all of their words, but the tone was unmistakable—they were planning something. Something big. He strained to hear more, inching closer, his breath shallow.
It was then that he saw it—the device.
At the center of their camp, surrounded by the shapeshifters, was a large, spherical object. It was unlike anything Joseph had ever seen before, its surface gleaming with a dark, metallic sheen. Wires and strange components jutted out from its sides, and it hummed with an eerie, low-frequency vibration that Joseph could feel in his bones. His gut told him this was no ordinary device. Whatever it was, it wasn’t meant for anything good.
Joseph’s mind raced as he listened, piecing together fragments of conversation. They were talking about the star-core—the heart of Avaleris, the energy source that kept their world alive. The star-core was what allowed Avaleris to thrive, its energy powering the Stations that orbited above, driving the planet’s seasons, and maintaining the delicate balance of life. Without it, Avaleris would fall into chaos.
And these creatures were planning to destroy it.
Joseph’s blood ran cold as the realization hit him. The device was a bomb, designed to detonate and trigger a chain reaction that would destabilize the star-core. If it went off, it would cause unimaginable devastation, wiping out Avaleris and everything on it. The shapeshifters weren’t just wild animals—they were terrorists, willing to sacrifice the entire world for their cause, whatever that might be.
Joseph’s hands clenched into fists as he watched the creatures move about the camp, his heart pounding in his ears. He had to do something. He couldn’t let this happen. But who could he trust? The planet guards? No. He had found their bodies on his land, torn apart like ragdolls. They were no match for these creatures, and even if they were, Joseph couldn’t be sure that there weren’t more of them already infiltrating the guard itself.
As Joseph considered his options, a new figure stepped into the firelight, and Joseph’s heart sank.
It was Vust Oreamia.
Joseph hadn’t seen Vust in years, not since their wild days in the inland towns. After they had grown up, Vust had taken a darker path, delving deeper into the underworld of Avaleris. The last Joseph had heard, Vust was running with smugglers, moving illicit goods between the Station elites and the dregs of the planet. But here he was, standing among the shapeshifters, deep in conversation with one of the wolf-like creatures, his familiar sharp eyes glinting in the firelight.
Joseph’s chest tightened as he watched his old friend laugh and gesticulate, clearly in league with the creatures. He hadn’t seen this coming. Vust, for all his faults, had never been heartless. Reckless, sure. A criminal, definitely. But he had never been someone Joseph had thought capable of something like this—plotting the destruction of their entire world.
Vust’s presence complicated everything. It wasn’t just a group of shapeshifters now—it was personal. Joseph swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had to stop them, but he couldn’t do it alone. And he couldn’t let his family get caught in the crossfire.
He carefully backed away from the ridge, retreating into the shadows. His heart hammered in his chest, but his mind was clear. He had seen enough. The shapeshifters were preparing to destroy Avaleris, and Vust, his old friend, was right in the middle of it all.
Joseph returned to the ranch that night, his face grim, his thoughts swirling with what he had just witnessed. He couldn’t go to the planet guards, not with them already compromised. He couldn’t risk exposing his family to the danger either, but he couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
The time for waiting was over. Whatever happened next, Joseph knew one thing for certain: he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.