The creature couldn't follow him to another galaxy. He was sure of that. His ship punched the barrier, a burst of sound and senses, as a new slate of stars greeted him.
He needed to think. He swallowed, remembering those shrieks. That creature. No. He was safe. It couldn't follow him. He would go home. He would say their dig didn't find anything, ruins still indecipherable. Or perhaps he could go far away, start a new life.
In the cargo hold, the treasure called the creature. And it answered. Obsidian tentacles suffocated the ship, and no one heard his scream.