The mining station hung in the crushing stillness above Vorlis-9, an ocean world cloaked in endless, churning darkness. Below, the abyss stretched into infinity, a liquid void swallowing light and sound alike. The station, once bustling with scientists and engineers, now relied on a minimal crew to keep corporate satisfied and the drills running. Only a handful remained, enough to handle surface operations while a rotating dive team managed maintenance below. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was steady work.

  Ethan Voss sat in the dim glow of his workstation, the hum of machinery and the soft ping of sonar the only companions in the vast quiet. He glanced at the data feed scrolling across his screen—another day, another routine scan of the trench below.

  He had been stationed here for nearly a year, assigned to oversee the autonomous mining drones that crawled the ocean floor in search of Azuron, the rare mineral the corporation coveted. It was a simple enough job: monitor the equipment, make occasional dives for maintenance, and try not to think too much about what lurked below.

  Ethan never liked the deep. Something about it gnawed at him, an unease he could never quite shake. He'd grown up around water, but this... this was different. It was too vast. Too empty. And yet, the abyss always felt like it was watching, waiting for something to slip.

  He sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring out the reinforced viewport at the blackness beyond. The faint glow of the station’s exterior lights barely pierced the depths. Somewhere below, the trench stretched down for miles, an ancient scar on the ocean floor. The corporation had sent countless probes, but none had ever returned data on what lay beyond a certain point.

  "Nothing but pressure and darkness," they told him. Ethan wasn't so sure.

  A sudden, rhythmic pulse jolted him upright.

  The sonar screen flickered, showing a repeating pattern—a deep, deliberate signal emanating from somewhere far below the station's reach. He frowned, adjusting the sensors to refine the signal. It wasn’t natural.

  “Control, you seeing this?” he asked, his voice steady despite the unease creeping into his chest.

  Static crackled in his earpiece before a tired voice responded. “We see it, Voss. Probably just a glitch.”

  Ethan frowned. The signal was too precise, too structured. It didn’t feel like a glitch.

  "Orders?" he pressed, his fingers hovering over the control panel.

  A long pause. Then: "Send a drone down. Let’s not waste fuel on a dive unless we have to."

  Ethan exhaled slowly, releasing the tension in his shoulders. He launched one of the autonomous drones, watching its faint blue light fade as it descended into the unknown.

  But something inside him whispered that whatever was down there wasn’t meant to be disturbed.

  And as the drone's camera flickered, revealing the jagged silhouette of what looked like alien ruins buried beneath the shifting currents, he realized this wasn't going to be just another shift.

  Ethan watched the drone’s feed with narrowed eyes, his pulse quickening as the murky depths came into view. The drone’s lights flickered, struggling to pierce the dense, black water, but there—just beyond the swirling currents—were shapes. Angular, unnatural formations jutting from the ocean floor like the remnants of a forgotten civilization.

  “What the hell is that?” he muttered under his breath.

  The structure sprawled outward, covered in sediment and strange bioluminescent growths that pulsed softly in the current. Massive archways, pillars, and something resembling glyphs carved into the stone-like material. It was no natural formation.

  Control, confirm visual,” Ethan called, his voice strained. The comms crackled, fading into silence. He adjusted the frequency, but only fragments came through—static punctuated by garbled voices. 'Control?' he repeated, adjusting his comms. He frowned, tapping the console in frustration.

  A deep thrum resonated through the drone’s speakers, vibrating through the hull of the mining station itself. Ethan felt it, not just heard it—an otherworldly pulse that sank into his bones.

  Then the drone’s feed cut to static.

  “Damn it,” Ethan cursed, rerouting the signal. “Come on, come on…”

  The feed blinked back to life, and for a split second, he saw something move—something huge, drifting through the water beyond the ruins. Then another tremor hit, stronger this time. The station groaned under the strain, the lights flickering ominously. Alarms blared.

  “Warning: Structural integrity compromised,” ARIEL, the station’s AI, chimed in, her voice eerily calm. “Pressure levels rising.”

  Ethan barely had time to register the alert before a sharp crack echoed through the hull. He stumbled, grabbing onto the console.

  The drilling rig below must have triggered something. His gut twisted. They'd dug too deep.

  His earpiece crackled back to life. “Ethan—abort! Get back to the station now!”

  The voice belonged to Captain Raines, her usual composure replaced with panic.

  “I’m still topside,” he shot back. “What’s going on down there?”

  “Don’t ask, just get ready to launch a rescue pod,” she snapped. And then, abruptly, the line went dead.

  Ethan sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, the weight of his dive suit slowing him down. He reached the docking bay and launched the deep-sea submersible before climbing inside. With a hiss, the hatch sealed, and the thrusters engaged. The small vessel shuddered as it began its descent, cutting through the inky depths.

  As he neared the trench’s entrance, the silence became oppressive. The sub’s lights flickered weakly, illuminating the ancient ruins once more.

  A shape drifted past the viewport—just beyond visibility. Ethan's breath caught in his throat. It was moving, something long and serpentine, coiling through the ruins as if the deep itself had come alive.

  “Control, I’m seeing movement down here.”

  Silence again.

  Then a whisper came through the comms, faint and distorted.

  “…leave now…”

  Ethan’s heart pounded against his ribcage. “Who said that?” he demanded, but the voice was gone.

  The beacon's pulse was deafening now, resonating through the submersible, pressing against his skull like an unwelcome presence. His fingers trembled, sweat blurring his vision as he pushed the craft forward, navigating through the towering ruins. The glyphs carved into the walls seemed to glow with an eerie bioluminescence, pulsating in sync with the beacon.

  Ethan reached the drill site, only to find it abandoned. The equipment was still running, drilling into an impossibly smooth obsidian-like surface.

  A lone helmet drifted in the water nearby. No sign of the team.

  “Where the hell is everyone?” he muttered, dread seeping into his voice.

  He activated the sub’s external speakers, broadcasting to all channels. “Captain Raines, anyone—come in!”

  A low crackling sound filled the speakers.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Ethan’s breath hitched. He swallowed hard and backed the sub away from the drill site. The pulsations in the water grew stronger, and the ancient machinery embedded in the walls of the cavern seemed to stir, responding to his presence.

  Then, the entire trench shuddered.

  A massive fissure opened beneath the drill, swallowing the equipment whole. Ethan’s sub lurched violently as debris tumbled into the abyss, and before he could react, the current dragged him down.

  He spun out of control, alarms screaming inside the cockpit. He fought the controls, but the pressure outside was immense, pulling him deeper into the heart of the ruins.

  Just as his oxygen levels dipped dangerously low, the sub finally settled on the cavern floor. Ethan gasped, disoriented, as the lights flickered back on.

  He wasn’t alone.

  Outside, beyond the cracked viewport, shadowy figures floated in the darkness. Their forms were vaguely humanoid, but their movements were sluggish, almost unnatural.

  One of them drifted closer, pressing against the glass.

  It was a suit.

  Ethan's eyes widened in horror. Inside the old, worn-out dive suit was himself, staring back through the visor, frozen in time, mouth open in a silent scream.

  Panic surged through him, but his limbs felt heavy, his vision blurring. The deep’s pulse grew louder, and his head swam with fragmented images—things he shouldn't know, memories that weren’t his.

  He fumbled with the emergency thrusters, launching himself away from the wreckage and the spectral figures. As he ascended, his mind clung to one thought:

  Get back to the surface.

  The sub trembled violently, but the beacon's influence weakened the farther he got from it.

  Finally, the water began to lighten, and the station’s lights came into view. He crashed into the docking bay, barely managing to escape the sub before collapsing onto the metal floor, gasping for breath.

  The station was silent.

  And then, from deep below, through the reinforced hull, Ethan heard it one last time.

  A slow, deliberate pulse.

  The Abyss was still watching.

  Ethan lay on the cold metal floor of the docking bay, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His mind reeled, trying to process what he had just seen—what he had felt—down in the abyss. The pulse was still there, a phantom vibration deep in his bones, even though the sub lay silent behind him.

  He forced himself upright, his hands shaking as he pressed his comms unit. “Control, do you copy?”

  Only static.

  Ethan staggered toward the control room, his legs weak beneath him. The station’s corridors felt wrong—too quiet, too empty. The emergency lights flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally along the walls. The rhythmic thrum of the abyss still echoed faintly in the distance, like a heartbeat from below.

  Reaching the control room, Ethan’s hands flew across the console. He pulled up the station’s external feeds, searching for any sign of the missing team. The cameras flickered, glitching between frames of empty corridors and static. And then, for a brief moment, he saw them.

  Faces. His own face. Reflected in every monitor. Watching him.

  He recoiled from the console, his heart pounding. “No, no, this isn’t real,” he whispered. He wiped a trembling hand across his eyes, trying to shake the creeping sense of dread gnawing at him.

  Suddenly, a deep groan reverberated through the station. The lights flickered again, this time accompanied by the distant clang of something moving in the lower levels.

  Ethan swallowed hard.

  His only chance was the emergency escape pod, but he had to disable the station’s drilling system first—if the automated drills continued to bore into the depths, who knew what else they might awaken?

  Summoning whatever courage he had left, Ethan forced himself to descend to the station’s lower decks, where the drilling controls were located. The air grew heavier, more oppressive with every step. The corridors seemed to narrow, closing in around him.

  When he reached the drilling control room, the air was thick with humidity, and the dim lighting barely illuminated the tangled mass of wires and machinery. The station’s systems still whirred in relentless motion, drilling into the abyss without care for what lay beneath.

  Ethan approached the console, his heart pounding. The drill had been running for too long—longer than it should have. Something, or someone, had overridden the safety failsafes. Each button press felt like an eternity, and with every second, the pulse from below grew louder, more insistent. Sweat dripped from his brow as he entered the final override code.

  And then—

  A low whisper echoed through the chamber.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Ethan froze. His fingers hovered over the console, his breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he turned his head.

  In the reflection of the control panel’s glass screen, he saw a figure standing behind him.

  It was him.

  Pale. Hollow-eyed. Lips moving soundlessly.

  Ethan spun around, but there was nothing there. Just the hum of machinery and the flickering lights.

  “No, no, no,” he muttered, pressing the final shutdown command. The drilling systems groaned, sputtered, and finally fell silent.

  The silence was worse.

  Ethan could feel the abyss pressing against the walls, hear the faint, rhythmic beat beneath the floor, as if the ocean itself was breathing.

  Suddenly, the room shook violently. The walls trembled, and a loud, deafening crack echoed through the station. Ethan stumbled, his ears ringing as red warning lights blared to life.

  “Warning: Structural integrity compromised,” ARIEL's voice droned. “Immediate evacuation advised.”

  Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted from the control room, sprinting through the station’s trembling corridors. He could feel something behind him—something vast and unseen, reaching for him with every pulse of the deep.

  He reached the escape pod bay, slamming his fist against the launch panel. The pod hissed as it powered up, the doors sliding open with agonizing slowness.

  But just before he climbed inside, he saw it.

  Through the viewport, deep in the abyss below, something massive stirred. Ethan stared in horror as the ruins stirred, shifting unnaturally in the currents. Were they ruins at all? Or something far older, waiting to wake?

  Ethan froze at the sight beyond the viewport. Deep beneath the station, the ancient structures—once thought to be lifeless ruins—shifted like a sleeping beast stirring from slumber. The pulsing blue light within the cavern walls intensified, rhythmic and deliberate, as if the abyss itself was breathing.

  His pulse quickened. He had to move.

  The escape pod’s hatch finally opened with a hiss, and Ethan stumbled inside, sealing the door behind him with trembling hands. The pod's systems flickered to life, flashing a warning that the station’s structural integrity was at critical levels. Oxygen levels: dangerously low. He didn’t have time.

  Through the small circular window, he saw something else—movement in the water. Shadows, fluid and predatory, swimming just beyond the reach of the pod’s external lights.

  Ethan slammed the launch sequence. The thrusters roared, and the pod jolted free from its docking clamps, spiraling away from the collapsing station. As he ascended, the station's structure crumbled in slow motion beneath him, disappearing into the consuming darkness of the trench.

  But something was wrong.

  The beacon’s pulse was still inside him, buried deep in his mind like a parasite. Even as the station vanished below, he could feel it—faint and persistent, as if the abyss had left a mark on him. He gripped the armrests tightly, his breaths coming shallow and ragged.

  The pod’s navigation system guided him toward the surface, but the ascent was slow, too slow. The weight of the abyss pressed against the hull, fighting to pull him back.

  Suddenly, a sharp clang reverberated through the pod. Ethan’s heart seized. He glanced at the sensors—no external contacts detected—but another clang followed, louder this time.

  Something was outside.

  He dared to look through the viewport, and his stomach turned to ice. A figure floated just beyond the glass—an old dive suit, its visor cracked and leaking bubbles into the water. It was the same suit he had seen in the ruins. His suit.

  Ethan recoiled, shaking his head. “No… this isn’t real.”

  The figure pressed its helmet against the glass, its face barely visible behind the fractured visor. Ethan’s own eyes stared back at him from within, wide with terror.

  He screamed, slamming his hand on the thrusters. The pod surged upward, breaking free from the shadows that clawed at it. Light filtered in from above, the crushing darkness receding as the surface drew closer.

  With a final burst, the pod breached the waves, tumbling onto the calm, methane-rich surface of Vorlis-9. Ethan gasped, gulping in the recycled air, hands still trembling.

  He floated there, staring up at the endless stars, but the pulse—the endless, rhythmic thrum of the abyss—still echoed faintly in the back of his mind.

  Even though he had escaped, Ethan knew the abyss hadn’t let him go.

  It never would.

  Ethan drifted in the escape pod, staring blankly at the endless methane sea stretching in all directions. The stars above felt distant and indifferent, their cold light failing to warm the gnawing dread in his chest. The station was gone, swallowed by the abyss, but the silence pressing against him was far from empty.

  He reached for the comms panel with a trembling hand. “Control… this is Ethan Voss. I’m clear of the station.” His voice was raw, hollow. “Mission failure. No survivors.”

  There was a long pause, then a response—garbled and distant. “Copy that, Ethan. Rescue’s en route. Just hold tight.”

  Hold tight. As if it were that simple.

  Ethan closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against his temples, but he could still feel it—the rhythmic pulse, soft and steady, like an echo from somewhere deep inside him. It was quieter now, almost imperceptible, but it was there. It would always be there.

  He opened his eyes and gazed out over the dark waves. For a brief moment, far on the horizon, something flickered—just a whisper of blue light beneath the surface.

  Ethan exhaled shakily. He had escaped the abyss.

  But deep down, he knew the abyss had not escaped him.