The Rift would be his death, as it always will be.

He was going to die here. That reality was starting to set in now. Truth be told, he'd never even truly considered the possibility. Even after everything that happened, after so many had died, he had never really accepted the fact that he might die here.

He took a deep breath. His lungs ached under the strain. The air was getting thin now. The hissing sound of escaping air had faded into a whisper.

That ever-present pressure pulsed in his head. He could almost hear it now. That noise. It was laughing at him, mocking his doom.

More gunshots echoed in the distance, barely audible in the near-vacuum. A burst of psionic energy followed, engulfing the room in light. He coughed a crimson mist, placing a blood-soaked hand back on his chest. He has his own reminder of the fight going on around him.

He almost laughed as he debated what would kill him first. If he was laughing, probably the asphyxiation, then.

Was this what the Council considered a routine science mission? He stared at the others with him, all floating lifelessly. All of this loss, and for what? Was this the price of the Rift? To lose everything to it? What was the point of it all? Was there even a purpose to their sacrifice? Or was it all just loss? Maybe it would have been better if they just stayed away from the Rift.

How long had they even been out here? Days? Months? Years? Space and time tangled together. Where were they? When were they?

His vision blurred and his mind disoriented. That noise whispered in his mind, begging him to hear its secrets. He opened his mouth to take in a breath, but now air only rushed out.

He caught a glimpse as it rushed past. That twisted thing. The warped remnant of what he had once called a friend. A fellow survivor. He was almost glad the air was gone, for he could no longer hear its words. The same voice of madness that still echoed in his head. It was wrong. It was changed. It saw something. It had turned on them. It had shot him. It was wrong.

It was getting dark now. His lungs stopped, recognizing the futility. His heart slowed. His mind quieted.

He could almost hear the voice now.

He could hear its words.

He could see it.

It-