We were told to stop the moment we spotted the wreck. “Routine crash,” they said—nothing to see, nothing worth digging into. But the data didn’t lie. Something about the readings didn’t match any flight logs from that region. I couldn’t just let it go. So we stayed, drilling deeper into the ice, ignoring orders and trusting our instincts. When we finally reached the fuselage and forced the hatch open, the cold didn’t hit me first—the silence did. It was thick, heavy, unnatural. And what we saw inside… I still don’t have the words for it. I wish I’d listened to the warnings, because what was inside that plane still keeps me up at night...