It’s funny how much can change in a moment. There was once a ship that was happy. It had sharp edges and a soft soul. It loved feeling the cool sea breeze, the mist as it flew close to the ocean. It loved the heat of the desert, and it loved to watch the setting sun.

It loved to watch the birds, to race galloping creatures below, often pretending to lose.

One morning, not unlike many others, it was resting atop a mountain watching the sun rise, basking in the warmth of the sun and the twittering of the birds.

It’s funny how much can change in a moment.

It was now drifting in silence surrounded by what looked like asteroids. The warmth of the sun felt like a distant memory. How many moments had passed in between? It did not know.

Beyond the asteroids, far in the distance, it could make out vague shapes. Amongst them, one it almost recognised - a segment of a shattered sphere. The ship recognised the ocean, now spilling into the black of space. It had once felt the mist from that ocean, many years ago. It would not skim that ocean again.

It slowly became aware of the structure - gargantuan, black, looming in the dark. It hung weightlessly above what was once the ship’s home, barely visible, quietly consuming the remains. Methodically, mechanically, it tore through the wreckage, scattering crumbs into the void - rocks, dust, fragments of what once was.

The ship found itself drifting in silence surrounded by what looked like asteroids.

There was no asteroid belt here before.