Mira pressed her hand to the cold greenhouse glass and watched her breath fog it up. Outside, the station turned slowly around Veil, a dying red star whose weak light always arrived late and faint. But her bean vines weren't reaching for that tired star. Every leaf and curling tendril had turned the other way, toward the empty dark. Mira frowned. Plants follow light. So what light were they following?

Mira grabbed her dad's old light sensor from the toolbox and pointed it at the empty dark the vines leaned toward. The screen flickered, then showed a tiny blip — a real source of light out there, too dim for her eyes but very real. "You're not crazy," she whispered to the beans. "There's something out there."

Mira decided to tell the station's only other crew member, the old engineer Boon. When she found him, he went pale. "Slow light," he muttered. "Your grandmother chased that same blip. The night she vanished, the plants were pointing too." Mira felt cold all over.

Boon led Mira to a dusty supply closet and pulled out a logbook. "Eda left this for whoever came next," he said. The last page held a hand-drawn map of the station, with one room circled deep in the lower level. "She said go here when the plants turn. I never had the nerve. You might."

Mira found the circled room and pushed the door open. Inside, a single plant grew in a pot of glowing soil, older than anything else on the station. A note in Eda's hand was pinned to the wall: "This one remembers the way home. Water it, and it will show you." Mira filled a cup and poured. The plant lit up like a lantern, and a path of light spread across the floor toward the airlock.