Jupiter

*Your ship pierces golden vortices, plunging into the depths of an eternal storm. The vessel comes to a gentle stop on a surface that shouldn't be here. Instead of poisonous gas, a crystalline cold fills your lungs. Before you, in the heart of the Great Red Spot, stands a man.

— Who are you?

• Your scream is drowned out by the roar of the atmosphere. The man turns. His pupils are spinning galaxies. He smiles, and the chaos of Jupiter freezes.

— I didn't survive. I am this storm.

You back away, realizing: before you is the living mind of a giant. Instead of answering, it clenches its fist. The solid earth explodes. Colossal cords of flesh, made of liquid hydrogen and electricity, erupt from the depths. These titanic tentacles instantly close over you, forming a living dome. Cold, pulsating tendrils wrap around your arms and legs, tightening your body in a steel grip. You feel the current run through your skin as the planet's living chains press you to the surface. One of the tendrils narrows to the tip of a needle and freezes a millimeter from your pupil. Through this contact, the hum of millions of years of loneliness flows into your brain. "Do you see now? "A voice whispers within your mind as the bonds tighten.

"You didn't land on the planet. You were swallowed alive by me. You're part of my bloodstream now. Part of this storm."