A research space station orbits an unknown planet in an unknown star system. A G-type yellow star is seen far off from someone's window-side seat at this research facility. Countless thoughts run through this solitary observer's mind as their gaze blankly surveys all that lies before them. They've forgotten how much time has passed since they were deployed here, or why they bothered to remain as one of the few lone sentinels in this galaxy. They were once part of an advanced civilisation that would send incarcerated scientists from their home planet to desolate outposts as part of their sentence. For most, this was a welcome escape from the 100-floor underground prisons they were confined to. However, others who had no interest in life beyond those walls saw this deployment as a mercy: the potential for a patient and silent death in the stars. The latter often got their wish, whereas the former were shocked depending on the outpost they were sent to. The truth that's skilfully kept on a need-to-know basis is that a large amount of these outposts are placed within "dying galaxies," which can range from a star cluster littered with nothing but forming black holes to others that have extremely hot or cold dark space for whatever reasons. The facilities are manned by mostly death row scientists in the hopes of a reduced sentence but the truth is that they're merely serving an empire with their life as their offering, knowingly or otherwise. A financially savvy way of getting both essential star data and labour from some of the greatest minds they've ever cultivated.

  Back to our Observer, they happen to be the last living being aboard Ea. This facility had a unique role in that while most observed phenomena from afar, they were tasked to head to the surface of this unnamed planet, the only planet within this observable system. While official records don't have a proper name for this planet, the scientists here began referring to it as Abaddon amongst each other. At set intervals, a single scientist would board a one-way space pod to Abaddon's surface, where their objective is only fully given to them in detail by the system in the pod itself once it makes landfall. Our Observer has no clue what this objective is since none of the scientists have come back from their trips. The Observer has been able to track the passage of time through the date entries of said scientists within the logbooks they'd relay digitally back to the station. Now and then, the Observer goes through these entries on a whim. How come? There's nothing better to do when you're the last living soul in a forsaken, glorified coffin.

  At this point, the only thing to wonder about is why so many scientists have stopped their entries mere days after landing. Judging from the last three entries the conclusion is simple: they're all dead. That's not the issue though, since they were all going to die out here regardless. The final entries of each of the last three hinted to something coming after them. They could never detail what it looked like, only that whatever this was was most likely the reason they were sent there in the first place. All that being said, the Observer begins to read the first of these entries for what's probably been the umpteenth time in who knows how long. Their favourite spot to do this was by the window seat overlooking said planet and the gigantic star beyond it.

  XX February, 4014 AD. Research Entry No. 04:

  Cold, which has been the case for the past week. The weather here is so unpredictable that any normalcy in having repeat weather conditions for two days is unexpected mercy. It feels like it's too late though. If the weather won't end me, that 'thing' will. It won't let me go, no matter what I tell it. I saw it again today, but it looked completely different. This time, it looked like a friend of mine from long ago. A face that I wish I'd forgotten. All the regret I hoped to have washed away came flooding back, while it just sat and stared at me in silence with a sullen expression.

  "I hope you took care of yourself," it said. At that moment, I couldn't help but fall to my knees and cry. That's all it had to say to rip my heart asunder in a moment. I was never the smartest person regarding other people's emotions, but I always tried my best. Trying your best doesn't mean that you won't hurt others along the way, it just means that your blunder is a genuine mishap and not an act of malice. I could never forgive myself though, not for what I did to them. As they sit here and stare at me, I can't help but wonder how they'd known what to say. Whatever it is, it's beyond any creature I've ever met. It then stood up and said:

  "The star will come for you tomorrow," it continued, following a short pause. "Please, don't leave me here." I had no idea what to say. Bewildered by so many things happening all at once, I opened my mouth to try to craft a response, but to no avail. It looked at me with an even sadder expression this time.

  "What am I?"

  Then in the blink of an eye, it disappeared. That was yesterday.

  Today is the promised day. Since I've woken up, the sky people have been singing high above. Oh, what bliss. A melancholic symphony to welcome me to another face. The sky people have always been kind to me. Maybe this time, I'll get it right. Maybe.

  I hope I do.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  XX June, 5115 AD. Research Entry No. 03:

  I've been seeing it for days now. It won't leave me alone. Sometimes it appears as one person and other times it's a plethora of faces that have so many memories attached to them. It feels like I'm sifting through a photo album that spans my entire life over and over. Moments that I wished would last forever slip away in mere moments and the inverse of that is true. The terrible photos from that album linger in front of me like a star you see up in the sky that you know has died long ago. As if it were mimicking the dead silence of space, these faces never say anything. They glance at me and continue their business as if taunting me. Please, say something to me.

  When I try to reach out to them, they all run away. I speak and they act as if I didn't say a word. I must be tired from being on this planet by myself for so long. How long has it been? I can easily track the time from the log entry dates, but whenever I do look at them, they feel so foreign and detached from the actual time that I feel I've spent on Abaddon. I was so excited to be sent to the Ea at first, thought that maybe I could continue my dreams as a scientist even though I'd messed up my first life so much. Now? I'm not so sure anymore.

  I just need to rest. I've been so drowsy for the last couple of days. I have an unnerving feeling of dread building up in my chest. As if I'm running out of time. I haven't felt this way since my days as a teenager. Wow, those years feel so far away from me now.

  I just woke up, but I could've sworn that I closed my eyes for mere moments. I feel so light like my feet are off the ground. My vision is becoming blurry but I'm not afraid. There's a strong tugging sensation around my neck, like a strong and warm hug. Oh, I feel so good right now.

  Maybe, just maybe, they'll be able to see me now.

  XX October, 7021 AD. Research Entry No. 01:

  I've been here for who knows how long? This 'thing' on Abaddon has been haunting me for what feels like centuries in my mind. Nobody else was able to figure out what it was, and before I knew it I was the only one left on this rock. I look at the last two entries before mine and I feel a pang in my chest. Why don't any of them have their IDs or names added to the details? Plus their tone in the entries felt like they were in a trance towards the end. There's so much that's gone unexplained, and that's before I get to this creature.

  I haven't seen it for a week or so but our last meeting was so hauntingly serene. Instead of a person, or multiple people, I saw a sunset. A sunset from what feels like lifetimes ago. I'm by the boardwalk, waiting for someone. Someone I knew wouldn't come. I just sat there, reminiscing. What was and what could've been? What went right and what went wrong? I went through all those calculations for an indescribable amount of time. The ocean reflected the dusk rays of the sun as I looked at its slow descent beneath the horizon. The orange sky steadily took on a purple hue, acting as a herald for the night to come. I stood up and stared at the horizon for one last time as if I knew I'd never return. I was right. The sun from that day will never rise again. Not for me nor you. I hope you find where you belong because I haven't.

  Now I'm here on Abaddon and I'm more confused now than I've ever been. There are gaps in my memory and I feel that I've lost pieces of myself that one should never let go of. What's strange is that the paragraph that preceded this felt like an uninvited guest that stormed into my home, yet something was telling me to shelter them for the night and not to send them out into the unforgiving storm of cruelty and indifference. A presence possessing a will beyond my own within a single body. Yes, that's what it feels like to me. That 'something' is telling me to do this. Almost as if it's trying to remind me of a long-forgotten mission. Or at least a memory that shouldn't be left unattended for too long. I don't even know anymore, I'm just so tired.

  At this moment, I feel as if I've just woken up from a long dream or nightmare. I've searched high and low and there's not even a trace of anyone else that might've existed here. It feels as if this planet is haunted somehow. There are just so many phenomena that I can't explain, either because I can't remember or I'm being stopped from putting those recollections into words right here and now.

  I feel like a prisoner. Chained to my past, ignorant of my present, and clueless about the future.

  What am I? I feel like I've asked this question across so many ripples through time that it's lost all significance now. My hands look worn and I can't remember when I last spoke. My voice is this now.

  I hope someone up there can see this soon.

  Don't come down here.

  That final entry has always haunted our Observer the most. They always linger on it for days or even weeks at a time. Something gnaws at them from the inside but they don't know what. Now that they think about it, what were the names of the other scientists? Why aren't any of them in the station's records outside their designation numbers? How much time has passed? Why haven't they made their descent to Abaddon? Also, why does Abaddon feel so familiar to them? As they sit at the window and gaze at the solitary planet, memories of a barren landscape flood their mind. They've never even been there before, so why? Why are they so sure that this mindscape is Abaddon? Why do the winds from the valley feel like the embrace of a place you'd call home?

  "What am I?"

  Those words escaped the Observer's mouth for what felt like the first time they'd spoken in ages. They looked down at their hands and saw a body that didn't belong to them at all. Or rather, it was the body of a much older version of them. Then in a split second, a much younger vessel. Back and forth, these glitched in and out of existence. Then darkness engulfed the world around them.

  A research space station orbits an unknown planet in an unknown star system. A G-type yellow star is seen far off from someone's window-side seat at this research facility. Countless thoughts run through this solitary observer's mind as their gaze blankly surveys all that lies before them...