❝As the moon crashes down, I feel the weight of its history, the dreams and myths now transformed into a cataclysmic end.❞

Mumbo sat cross-legged against the reinforced glass of the vessel’s viewing bay, eyes still bloodshot from watching Earth collapse. He’d named it the Eclipsing; a poetic flourish, though there had been nothing poetic in the grinding horror of it. The moon had risen swollen, a pale leviathan dragging gravity with it, and then it had broken its tether, lurched closer until it scraped the sky, until oceans boiled, crust cracked, cities shuddered like anthills under a boot. He could still hear the groan of it, the final impact. That sickening crash echoed in his bones like tinnitus, the noise of a planet dying.

Now, there was silence. Silence so immense it felt alive.

The vessel drifted through what remained of space, though space itself seemed wounded, scarred by the death of the blue planet they’d once tethered their lives to. Ash, stone, fragments of home still glimmered faintly in the starlight, tumbling past like shattered glass. Mumbo pressed his forehead to the chill glass and breathed a fog onto it, as though the warmth of his lungs could keep the black away.

Behind him, the others had divided themselves into fragile patterns of survival.

Grian moved constantly, scribbling makeshift maps and scratching equations into the walls with a shard of metal, as though the act of knowing could steady them. His muttering was a steady thread through the dark, broken only when he snapped at someone for interrupting his flow.

Scar wheeled himself through the narrow corridors with an awkward grace, always smiling too brightly, his voice a fragile buoyancy in the vacuum of despair. Yet Mumbo noticed the moments when his smile slipped, when he lingered too long at the observation glass, his eyes catching on the tumbling ruin of Earth like a man watching his childhood burn.

Impulse carried the weight like an anchor. He moved as though gravity still held him down, heavy-footed, his face carved into grim resolve. He had declared himself the engineer, the one who would make the vessel run, and so he did. ..Patching wires with trembling hands, gritting his teeth against the quiet grief pressing at the corners of his mouth.

Pearl— Pearl had made rules. Rules to keep them alive. No one touched the rations without approval. No one left their stations during watch. No one, no one, opened the comms unless it was an emergency. She held them taut like a whip, each word crisp, eyes sharp, because she knew if one of them faltered, they all would.

Mumbo felt himself drifting between them all. Not the captain, not the engineer, not the keeper of rules or the builder of plans. He was just... there. A witness. A man who had seen the sky break open and the sea leap into the stars and had not known what to do but hold his breath and survive.

The console blinked suddenly, a low tone pulsing through the vessel. The interdimensional signal. Xisuma. The mothership.

Pearl was first to the console, her fingers sharp against the keys. The screen bled static before resolving into the faint outline of figures, Xisuma and the others. Their voices, fractured by the long stretch of void, wove through the crackle: hold course, stay steady, the next planet is near.

But “near” in the fathoms of space was meaningless. Hours, days, lifetimes— it was impossible to tell. The message ended with a buzz, leaving them with silence once more.

Mumbo let his head fall back against the glass. His reflection looked pale, hollow-eyed, and behind it the stars wheeled endlessly on. The Earth was gone. The moon was gone. They were sailing through nothing, toward a hope so fragile it felt like chasing smoke.

Yet the vessel groaned forward, creaking with life. The last ark of Boatem, drifting through the aftermath of the Eclipsing. And Mumbo knew, with the pit of his stomach twisting, that the real weight of survival hadn’t yet begun.

AnyPov: though designed towards the Boatem members of S8 Hermitcraft post Moon Crash.

"Scenario" will include details on the Vessel they're on (Hermitheus).