Millions of years ago, the void of space stretched endlessly, a black ocean dotted with distant fires. Among the drifting celestial bodies, an anomaly moved with eerie precision, its course unbound by the gravitational dance of the cosmos. A massive, diamond-like object, rough in texture yet impossibly reflective, sailed silently through the solar system. It was neither an asteroid nor a comet—its composition defied known physics. Light fractured against its jagged surface, casting spectral colors that shimmered like a distant star. It bore no orbit, no natural trajectory. It simply was. Deep within its core, an unknown liquid pulsed like a heartbeat—water-like yet sentient, rippling despite the vacuum of space. It had drifted through the cosmos for untold millennia, carrying with it a secret that would one day alter the course of Earth's history.
And then, as if drawn by an unseen force, it changed direction.
A new destination lay before it.
Earth.
The Descent
For weeks, the foreign object coasted through the solar system, skimming past Jupiter's colossal storm. Planets, lifeless moons, and asteroid belts remained undisturbed in its passing. Yet as it neared Earth, something within the planet's magnetic pull reacted—an ancient force, a quiet beckoning.
Earth's gravity seized it.
Faster and faster it fell, a rogue star now bound to the planet below. It burned as it plummeted, igniting the sky in a luminous blaze. To those who walked the prehistoric lands, it was as if the heavens themselves were collapsing. In the vast, untamed wilderness of Earth, beneath a sky untouched by civilization, early humans and ancient creatures lifted their eyes. A radiant fireball streaked across the night, illuminating the world in an ethereal glow. Roars of distant beasts echoed as they witnessed the unknown. The first sentient minds, primitive yet aware, stood in awe and terror as the celestial invader tore through the firmament.
Then, it struck.
Impact
The land where it fell was barren—no great forests, no towering mountains. Just an open, unclaimed expanse of dirt, rock, and scattered vegetation.
The impact was cataclysmic.
A blinding explosion shattered the silence of the night, sending waves of energy rippling across the land. Shockwaves tore through the earth, flattening trees miles away. Dust and debris clawed at the sky, darkening the moon's pale glow. The air was thick with the scent of burnt rock and scorched earth. At the heart of the devastation, the celestial object sat, embedded deep within the scarred ground. Despite the intensity of the impact, it remained eerily intact. A jagged, crystalline monolith, half-buried in the rubble, its radiant surface now dulled by soot and ash.
And there it waited.
Dormant.
Silent.
Yet something inside it had changed.
Awakening
Days turned to weeks.
Storms came, relentless and unyielding. Rain hammered against the barren wasteland, filling the air with the scent of wet soil and decay. The skies remained dark, the sun hidden behind thick storm clouds.The object sat unmoving, its surface unyielding even as the earth around it softened from the constant downpour.
Then, something began to shift.
Tiny fractures snaked across its crystalline shell, like cracks in melting ice. The once-impenetrable material softened, dissolving in the relentless rain. Shards broke away, dissolving before they even touched the ground.
Then, after weeks of relentless erosion, the rain finally ceased.
For three days, the sky remained still. No storms, no wind—only silence.
And in that silence, something was revealed.
At the very top of the celestial object, where once there had been an unbreakable surface, now lay a pool of shimmering liquid. It did not mix with the rainwater. It did not evaporate. It remained… pure.
Unchanged.
Alive.
And then—
A single drop.
A tiny ripple in the surface as a bead of the liquid rolled over the edge, falling to the earth below. It struck a fragile sprout—a small, unremarkable plant.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, cell by cell, the plant began to change.
Its roots darkened slightly, its leaves curling in a peculiar yet delicate manner. Over the following days, its growth did not accelerate unnaturally, nor did its form twist beyond recognition. Instead, it followed an ordinary path of growth—but something about it remained eerily different. Its branches extended at odd angles, its leaves bore unfamiliar patterns, and its overall shape seemed subtly out of sync with the natural world. It remained a tree, neither larger nor smaller than it should be, its bark no rougher than any other, its leaves neither shinier nor darker. And yet, to those who might one day study it, something about its symmetry, its movements in the wind, its very presence among its kind would seem… off.
Every drop that seeped into the soil carried the same effect. Subtle, quiet, but undeniably alien.
The tree was normal. And yet, it wasn't.
Something had begun.
Something irreversible.
The Falling Star had made contact.
And the world would never be the same.
The First Human Host
The sun blazed mercilessly over the vast prehistoric landscape, its heat radiating off the dry earth. A lone child, barely more than skin and bone, wandered through the open terrain, his throat parched and his body weak from thirst. His small, weary feet dragged through the dust as he searched desperately for any sign of water.
Each step grew heavier, his vision blurred from exhaustion and the scorching temperature. His breath came in ragged gasps as he clutched his stomach, his body barely able to keep moving.
Then, from the corner of his eye, something shimmered—a glint of light reflecting off a strange object in the distance. It pulsed like a fallen star, an otherworldly diamond embedded in the earth. The child hesitated at first, fear warring with curiosity, but desperation was stronger.
With what little strength he had left, he trudged forward, his heart pounding in his frail chest. The shimmering object stood before him, its fractured, crystalline surface strangely smooth yet rough to the touch, half-buried in the cracked and ancient ground. It looked unnatural, foreign, as if it had fallen from the heavens themselves millions of years ago.
Cautiously, the child circled the object, studying its bizarre angles and translucent glow with wide, sunken eyes. In the center of the fractured structure, a tiny pool of liquid shimmered like liquid silver. It did not ripple like water, nor did it glisten like dew—it was still, unnatural, yet beckoning. Something about it called to him, as though whispering to his mind, urging him closer.
Desperation left no room for doubt or hesitation. The child scrambled down the jagged edges, dropping to his knees beside the pool. Without a second thought, he plunged his hands into the liquid and brought it to his lips. It was cool—unlike anything he had ever tasted. Not just refreshing, but almost electric, as if the liquid itself was alive. Overcome by thirst, he drank greedily, gulping down every last drop until the pool was dry.
As the final remnants seeped into his stomach, a few stray droplets slid over the jagged edge of the object, soaking into the ground. The same plants that had previously been altered by the alien liquid absorbed these new drops, their transformation continuing in silence, their form ever so subtly shifting, though still resembling normal trees to the untrained eye.
For a brief moment, the child sat still, his breath steady. Relief spread through his body, but then—a sudden cough wracked his small frame. His stomach twisted, pain lancing through his veins like fire. He doubled over, his fingers clawing at his chest as he spat out thick, dark blood onto the ground. His limbs convulsed, jerking violently as though possessed by an unseen force.
A primal scream tore from his throat, filled with agony beyond comprehension. His cries echoed across the barren land before his body finally collapsed, motionless.
Silence followed.
The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over his lifeless form. His skin, once coated in dirt and sweat, grew lighter—an unnatural pale brown hue spreading across his body. His tangled hair darkened, absorbing the colors of the night itself, turning an abyssal black.
His lifeless brown eyes, now empty and dull, flickered—until they shifted, glowing with an eerie, deep blue light. The transformation was unlike anything seen before; an evolutionary leap forced upon a fragile human body in mere moments.
Then, without warning, his fingers twitched. His chest rose in a slow, steady breath. The child—no, the being that had taken his form—opened his eyes fully, staring into the vast prehistoric world around him. He stood, unbothered by his nakedness, his posture no longer one of exhaustion but of something else. Awareness, intelligence, and something far beyond human comprehension.
The first unknown being had emerged, and the world would never be the same again.