Mara ‘Starhawk’ Delaney
Part 1: Rumors and Shadows
Flynn Calder leaned against the grimy bar of the Starry Dawn Cantina, the air thick with smoke and the stench of unwashed bodies. His ears were always open to whispers, and tonight, they were abuzz with a story too tempting to ignore.
“The Golden Idol of Zathura,” a grizzled old pilot rasped, his voice barely audible over the raucous laughter and clinking glasses. Flynn’s keen ears caught the words, and his interest piqued. The name Zathura was practically a death sentence in itself—no one returned from that cursed planet.
Flynn’s fingers tapped against his glass, ice clinking softly. Zathura was forbidden for a reason. But that only meant fewer competitors.
He slid closer to the old man, flashing his best rogue’s smile. “Heard you mention Zathura, old-timer. Tell me, what’s so special about that rock?”
The old man’s eyes narrowed, but the credits Flynn slipped into his weathered hand were convincing enough. “They say it’s hidden in the heart of the Ruins of Arnak,” he muttered, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. “An idol made of pure gold. Ancient tech, maybe. Worth more than a hundred lifetimes.”
Flynn nodded, his mind already racing. If the rumors were true, the idol would be his ticket to a comfortable life far from the cutthroat business of treasure hunting. But he had to move fast. In a place like this, secrets spread quicker than starship engines on full burn.
“Thanks for the tip,” Flynn said, tossing another credit chip onto the bar. He turned to leave, only to catch sight of a familiar face at the corner of the cantina. Victor “Viper” Drax, a rival hunter with a reputation as ruthless as a plasma storm.
Drax’s cold eyes locked onto Flynn’s, and the grin that spread across his scarred face sent a shiver down Flynn’s spine. He knew then: he wasn’t going to be the only one racing to Zathura.
Part 2: The Descent to Zathura
The Silver Comet shuddered as it entered Zathura’s atmosphere. Flynn gripped the controls, cursing under his breath as the planet’s gravity fought to tear his ship apart. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the swirling clouds like the maw of some ancient beast.
“Easy now, girl,” Flynn muttered, easing back on the thrusters. The ship groaned but responded, cutting through the storm and descending toward the surface.
The landscape of Zathura was a nightmare of jagged rocks and swirling sandstorms. Flynn’s scanners beeped and whirred, struggling to get a read on the terrain. According to the old pilot’s directions, the Ruins of Arnak were buried deep within the desert. If the idol was anywhere, that’s where it would be.
Landing on a relatively flat patch of rock, Flynn grabbed his gear and stepped out into the choking heat. The air tasted of dust and decay, and the wind howled like a thousand lost souls. Perfect place to hide a treasure no one was meant to find.
He scanned the horizon, eyes squinting against the harsh light. In the distance, jagged spires of stone jutted toward the sky like the broken bones of some colossal creature. That had to be Arnak.
He started walking, every step sending up puffs of red dust that clung to his boots. Flynn was alone—for now—but he knew it wouldn’t last. Viper Drax would be on his tail.
Or worse.
Part 3: Rivals in the Shadows
Flynn reached the outskirts of the ruins just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in an eerie orange glow. The structures were ancient, their walls covered in strange glyphs that seemed to writhe in the fading light.
He moved carefully, his instincts honed from years of avoiding traps and ambushes. The ground was littered with bones, some human, others… less identifiable.
Flynn crouched behind a crumbling column, peering into the darkness. He could hear the faint hum of machinery—ancient tech still alive after all these years. His heart raced. The idol was close. But so was something else.
A flash of movement caught his eye. He spun, just in time to see Drax and his goons skulking through the shadows. Flynn’s hand went to his blaster, but he held off. Let Drax get closer to the idol first. Then Flynn would take it right out from under him.
He waited, muscles tense, as Drax and his men made their way deeper into the ruins. When the coast was clear, Flynn slipped from his hiding spot, moving silently through the maze of corridors.
As he turned a corner, a soft click echoed under his boot. “Oh, hell,” he muttered, diving forward just as the floor erupted in a blaze of plasma fire. The heat singed his back, but he rolled to safety, gritting his teeth.
“Old traps still work,” he whispered to himself, shaking off the dust. “Nice to know they don’t make ‘em like they used to.”
Part 4: The Idol’s Lair
The corridor opened into a vast chamber, illuminated by the flickering glow of alien technology. At its centre, on a pedestal that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, was the Golden Idol of Zathura.
It was magnificent—a perfectly sculpted figure that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. Flynn’s breath caught in his throat. This was it. The treasure of a thousand lifetimes.
But as he took a step closer, the room trembled. The air grew thick, humming with energy. Flynn froze. This wasn’t just an idol; it was something more, something alive.
“Did you really think you’d get here first, Calder?”
Flynn spun to see Drax, his blaster aimed straight at Flynn’s chest. The smug grin on Drax’s face made Flynn’s blood boil.
“Put down the gun, Drax,” Flynn said, his hands raised. “You don’t understand what this thing is.”
Drax laughed. “Oh, I understand perfectly. The idol’s a power source. The old legends say it could turn a man into a god.”
“You’re wrong,” Flynn said, his voice tight. “It’s not a power source—it’s a weapon.”
Drax’s eyes narrowed, but his finger twitched on the trigger. Flynn’s mind raced. He needed to act fast, or they’d all be dead.
Part 5: Traps and Betrayals
Without warning, Flynn ducked, pulling a small plasma grenade from his belt and tossing it at Drax. The explosion sent the rival hunter flying, his men scattering in confusion. Flynn bolted toward the idol, every instinct screaming that time was running out.
Alarms blared as the chamber began to shake. The glyphs on the walls glowed with a blinding intensity, beams of light lancing out and disintegrating Drax’s henchmen. Flynn didn’t look back.
He reached the pedestal, his hands closing around the cold, golden surface of the idol. The moment he touched it, a surge of energy coursed through him, burning like fire. Voices filled his head—alien, ancient, incomprehensible.
With a roar, he wrenched the idol free. The shaking intensified, cracks spider-webbing across the floor. Flynn stumbled back, gasping for breath.
“Calder, you idiot!” Drax shouted, scrambling to his feet. “You’ll kill us all!”
“Better us than half the galaxy,” Flynn shot back. He could feel the power thrumming in the idol, a dark pulse that threatened to consume everything. It wasn’t just a weapon—it was a doomsday device, a relic from a civilization that had destroyed itself.
He turned, sprinting toward the exit as the chamber began to collapse. The walls caved in, debris raining down like the wrath of a vengeful god.
Part 6: The Final Sacrifice
Flynn burst into the open air, dust and smoke billowing around him. The idol was humming louder now, its power building to a fever pitch. He had to destroy it, or it would unleash a chain reaction that would vaporize everything within a hundred-mile radius.
Drax emerged from the ruins, battered but alive. “Hand it over, Calder!” he bellowed, raising his blaster. “I won’t let you waste it!”
Flynn didn’t hesitate. He pulled out his blaster, firing a quick shot that sent Drax stumbling back. There was no time to argue. The idol’s light was blinding now, the air around it crackling with energy.
He took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around the cold metal. There was only one way to stop it. Flynn raised the idol high and smashed it down onto the jagged rocks.
The explosion was deafening, a shockwave of golden light that lit up the night sky. Flynn was thrown off his feet, pain searing through his body as the energy tore into him.
For a moment, everything was white, a blinding void that seemed to stretch into eternity. And then, silence.
Part 7: A New Dawn
Flynn woke to the sound of birds. Real, living birds. He blinked, the harsh sunlight stinging his eyes. He was lying in the sand, the ruins of Zathura smoldering behind him.
The idol was gone, reduced to fragments that glittered like broken stars in the sand. The power that had once threatened to consume the galaxy had been extinguished.
He struggled to his feet, every muscle protesting. The air was clear, the sky a perfect blue. For once, the world seemed… peaceful.
Drax was nowhere to be seen—whether he was dead or simply gone, Flynn didn’t know. Didn’t care. He’d done what he had to do.
Flynn took a deep breath, the scent of sand and stone filling his lungs. He had no treasure to show for his efforts, no riches to retire on. But for once, that didn’t matter.
He turned toward the rising sun, a wry grin tugging at his lips. There were always more treasures to find, more legends to chase. And he was still Flynn Calder, treasure hunter, rogue, and survivor.
With a final glance at the ruins, he walked away, the horizon calling him toward his next adventure.
The End
Endless Horizons 