Valmoran Republic, Planet Kronai, The Temple of the Seven

  Matthai Valtrellin, Future High Priest

  Matthai tossed and turned that night, stomach unsettled from the rich food and wine. His new robes lay folded nearby, a tangible reminder of his new status.

  Any time he managed to sleep, dreams haunted him. Kat-a-reen showing up in his chambers, bleeding. Finding out that she was in the Temple holding cells. Falling into a sea of pilgrims and being torn limb from limb.

  But mostly, he dreamed of her.

  None of it was rational—dreams seldom were—but he couldn’t remember how often he woke with a start, heart racing, checking the corner of his room to see if she was there.

  As he stared at the stone ceiling, the feast replayed in his mind, a blur of faces and voices. He had smiled, nodded, played his part.

  But he couldn’t remember who he met during the evening.

  Except Callum.

  Well, and Vargus Trix, who caused something of a scene. Matthai had an inkling they had Callum to thank for preventing an incident between Vargus and the Threllian Ambassador from escalating.

  Everything else was just a stream of faces and pleasantries.

  When Callum came through the receiving line, it was obvious the empath could sense Matthai wasn’t well. For a moment, Matthai had been sure the man was about to inquire about it, but in the end, Callum was discreet and said nothing.

  Matthai shuddered to think what his inner world must have felt like to an empath. It had been like someone else was wearing his skin, smiling with his mouth.

  A prisoner inside his own body and mind. He shuddered, trying not to dwell on it.

  He engaged his Hix interface, intent on finding a vid to watch. Maybe it would make the world feel less surreal.

  He found the other new Legends of the Lost Colony adaptation, the one Talia called ‘sappy.’

  The room transformed when he flicked his eyes over the ‘immersive vid’ option.

  Actors materialized, their voices crisp and clear, as if they were there in the room with him. The stark stone walls of Matthai’s chambers faded away, replaced by the lush, alien landscape of an unexplored world. The sounds of running water, insects, and jungle creatures filled his ears.

  This version of the Legends was an adventure vid, with the expedition discovering a secret homeworld. Versions like this were intriguing—the idea of an uncharted paradise world being discovered was almost magical.

  And complete fantasy, of course.

  Everyone knew the last new Valmoran homeworld was discovered during the Threllian Wars.

  Just a few minutes into the film, he gave up. His mind was too distracted, too unsettled.

  He shut off the vid and used his Hix to draw a hot bath, making his way to his bath chamber. Maybe it would help him get some rest.

  As he soaked in the warm water, he traced the intricate tiles depicting the seven phases of Valmoran life, as he so often did. In some ways, he understood his place in the galaxy even less today than two days prior.

  In others, he felt … secure. He was Kat-a-reen’s Amara.

  It was truth, fundamental. Essential and permanent.

  His fingers brushed over his brand new mate mark, and he thought of the thousand potentials on his mating list, each praying they might become the next High Priestess.

  It would be none of them—and it would cause an uproar.

  He shuddered, imagining the scandal erupting when the truth came to light. The political fallout, the public outcry …

  Casting it from his mind, he filled his thoughts with Kat-a-reen instead.

  He had to locate her. He must.

  The Temple bells tolled the approaching dawn. There was no way he was falling asleep again. Better to while away the morning in the garden than to return to bed with his troubled thoughts.

  He slipped on his new robes, frowning at their lavish embellishments, then grabbed one of the utility robes he always wore for gardening.

  In the hallway, he ran into Janna, stationed outside his door.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Matthai shook his head. “Thought it might be nice to get my hands dirty this morning.”

  “You and your dirt.” Janna teased. “It’s a good plan, Scion. Let’s go, then.”

  The cool morning air was a welcome relief as they made their way to the East Garden. As he neared, he saw a familiar figure among the cloria bushes, barely visible in the pre-dawn light.

  Miral, the old gardener, straightened as Matthai approached. “Matthai, my boy,” she said, her weathered face creasing into a smile. “Plenty of work needs doing this morning.” She nodded toward a spot where she’d set out a second set of gardening tools.

  His eyes pricked with tears as he realized she’d been expecting him.

  Matthai donned the gardening robe to protect his lavish robes and reached for a pair of pruning shears.

  They worked in companionable silence, clearing out the last batch of cloria flowers that hadn’t blossomed to make room for the new hybrids. The repetitive task, the feel of soil between Matthai’s fingers, soothed his nerves, and his anxiety settled.

  “So, that new batch of clorias,” Miral said, her keen eyes studying the delicate seedlings. “Do you think they’ll take this time?”

  Matthai paused, considering. “I hope so,” he admitted. “But we won’t know until they’re big enough to transplant.”

  “Mhm. Well, let me know when you want to move them to your new quarters. I know you won’t let anyone else touch them.”

  Matthai forced a chuckle, grateful for the offer, but not for the unwelcome reminder of his impending move.

  “Hmm ... Liyara always did love clorias, didn’t she?”

  Matthai felt a familiar ache in his chest at the mention of his sister. “Yeah—a magical garden of glowing blue flowers,” He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth at the memory of a wild young Liyara, dancing around the East Garden, telling him how amazing it would be.

  “And now you’re making it a reality.”

  Matthai scoffed. “Two phases of attempts, and every batch a failure—hardly a reality.”

  Miral cocked her head to one side, shrugging a shoulder. “I’d call it … perseverance. And you’re getting close. These ones fared much better than the ones before.”

  They were getting closer. Every generation.

  “But Scion,” Miral continued. “I have to wonder …” She set down her shears and caught his gaze. “Make sure you know why you’re still doing this. Don’t just do it for Liyara.”

  His heart clenched at the sound of his sister’s name, as it always did, but perhaps … less. Was that because of time, or Kat-a-reen?

  He considered Miral’s words. As much as he missed his sister and wanted to honor her memory, the cloria weren’t only about her anymore.

  Somewhere along the way, they had become his passion, something tangible, enchanting, and impermanent he could create.

  Beauty and purpose amid grief and duty.

  As they continued to work, the familiar scents and sensations of the garden were an anchor, pulling him back to himself.

  Tension drained from his body as the sun rose, bathing the garden in golden light. The Temple grounds began to stir, the sounds of distant activity picking up.

  “Scion?”

  Matthai turned to see Talia approaching, a gentle smile on her lips. “I thought I might find you here.”

  “Just needed some fresh air,” he said, brushing the soil from his hands.

  Talia nodded, her expression understanding. “Better?”

  Matthai gave a curt nod. He wasn’t feeling terrific, but better.

  She shook her head, chuckling. “You should have seen Janna last night with Vargus Trix. For a minute there, I was sure she was gonna throttle him with his own wings.”

  Matthai couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “I’m surprised she didn’t.”

  “Oh, she wanted to,” Talia said, her eyes twinkling. “But then she’d get demoted, and that wouldn’t do. You’re stuck with us.”

  A smile curved his lips. He had people here, people who—even if he couldn’t be fully himself around them—did care for him. Maybe he wasn’t quite as alone as he’d thought.

  “Well—” Miral wiped her hands on her apron and stood, stretching her back. “I think it’s about time for some breakfast. Care to join me?”

  “That sounds perfect,” Talia replied before Matthai could respond. “We should all eat before the day gets too busy.”

  They both looked at him for permission. Talia, of course, couldn’t go without him, as she was serving as his guard. “Sure.” He had nothing planned this morning, a definite novelty in his overbooked life.

  As they entered the familiar cafeteria, Matthai felt a pang of nostalgia. The simple space, with its long tables and benches, held memories of countless meals shared with his fellow adepts.

  Feeling alone, most of the time.

  After grabbing food, Miral and Talia discussed the logistics of moving Matthai’s belongings, their voices fading into background chatter. Matthai stirred his porridge, his mind wandering.

  Talia paused mid-sentence, her sharp eyes catching his lack of enthusiasm. “Scion, you’ve barely touched your food.”

  Matthai shrugged. “I’m still full from last night’s feast.”

  Talia’s frown deepened, but she didn’t press the issue.

  Matthai’s thoughts drifted back to the cloria blooms, the generations of varieties that couldn’t blossom in the wild, that never met their full potential.

  Cloria that were never meant to flower in their climate.

  Sometimes, he felt like he was in the wrong climate, unable to bloom.

  Like the flowers he was hybridizing, Valtrellins had been bred for 217 generations—to ensure they were all God-touched.

  But the image of the unflowering bushes would not leave his mind. Generations of cloria.

  Generations of Valtrellins.

  And himself, the newest generation.

  An urge rose in his mind, insistent and demanding. “Talia,” he said, interrupting their conversation, “I’d like to visit the Museum of Valtrellin History.”

  Talia nodded, scooping up the last of her breakfast. “Of course, Scion. Now?”

  “Yes,” Matthai said. “Now feels like the right time.”

  The Valtrellin History Museum transformed as Matthai entered.

  Static exhibits came to life with vivid imagery and informative displays. An AI guide began speaking to him in flawless Standard, offering insights into each exhibit they passed.

  No matter who visited, the overlay adjusted its language, cultural references, and even visual style to allow pilgrims throughout the Temple to connect with their faith and history.

  It was a marvel of inclusivity.

  They moved through the chronological exhibits, starting with sparse information about the First Epoch, in the savage age before Valmorans knew the Gods.

  Matthai strode forward toward the Second Epoch and paused before the exhibit on the First Priestess. It depicted a dramatization of his ancestor, the first of the Valtrellin Priestesses, during her momentous encounter with the Obelisk.

  Matthai wondered about that part of the scripture. When the Obelisk spoke to him during his ordination, it had been terrifying, but not like in this story. He certainly hadn’t felt an influx of knowledge, or been incapacitated for seven days and seven nights.

  ‘Words, once spoken, cannot be unspoken.’

  The Obelisk’s message to Matthai could have referred to his vows, which he couldn’t rescind. Or perhaps it was a warning about confiding in Callum about Kat-a-reen. Or maybe it had been foolish to promise to help her when he had no idea where to start.

  The Obelisk’s words were meaningful, but Matthai had expected something ... more.

  To be overcome with knowledge.

  Awestruck.

  Weren’t the Obelisks supposed to share profound knowledge? At the start of the Third Epoch, they had given the command of spaceflight to his ancestors, had shown them the gates above each planet, how to navigate the network between worlds. The Obelisks had taught them advanced mathematics.

  And he, the future High Priest, meant to guide a civilization of trillions, merely got an ambiguous warning about minding his tongue.

  Perhaps one needed to ask questions to get answers. Matthai hadn’t thought to during his first visit—he’d been too focused on trying not to jump away.

  He should schedule another audience with the Obelisk.

  The Gods should be able to help him find Kat-a-reen. He pulled up the Temple program to request an appointment.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Given the influx of pilgrims, they’d probably need to open it for him outside of regular hours, but they would do it for their Ordained Scion.

  The Gods would be able to help. They would know what to do.

  He should have thought of it sooner.

  After marking his request as urgent and sending it off, he glanced up at Talia. She, who claimed to hate museums, was engrossed in a nearby exhibit documenting the ancient weaponry from the Second Epoch.

  A question formed in his mind, one he’d never thought to ask before.

  “Have you been to see the Obelisk?” Matthai asked, glancing at Talia.

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Did you,” he furrowed his brow, “Did you feel any different, you know … after?”

  Talia cocked her head to the side. “No, not really. Mostly, it was a pain to get an appointment. And the cleansing rituals, the security checks ...”

  She shook her head as if remembering something unpleasant.

  Strange. Matthai hadn’t had to go through all that. “Security checks?”

  Talia nodded. “Oh, yeah—they want to make sure you’re as pure as the day you were born, going in there. I mean, it makes sense—gotta protect the Obelisks, right?”

  “Why? From … who?” Matthai frowned.

  Talia sighed. “Who knows? But when you’ve worked in security as long as I have, nothing surprises you anymore. And as for the Obelisks … I haven’t been back. I get my wisdom from the scriptures—that’s good enough for me.”

  They rounded a corner, entering the Third Epoch.

  The Technological Revelation. The Obelisks rewarded Valmoran obedience with the knowledge of spaceflight and advanced mathematics. The rapid expansion and discovery that followed—all guided by the wisdom of the High Priests.

  He wondered again why the Obelisk hadn’t shared something more meaningful with him. Was he … somehow deficient?

  The discovery of countless Valmoran homeworlds, each new planet a testament to their expanding civilization. The establishment of Temples to honor the Obelisk on each world created a vast network of faith, unifying their people across the stars.

  As they continued towards the end of the Third Epoch, the mood shifted dramatically. The darker chapters of Valmoran history.

  These exhibits were a cautionary tale.

  A heaviness settled in Matthai’s chest as they approached the time of the Great Threllian Wars. The displays were sobering, showcasing generations of religious and cultural misunderstandings.

  The escalation of hostilities had spanned generations and ended catastrophically in the near-genocide of the Threllian species.

  “This exhibit is always so … harrowing,” Matthai said.

  “The Threllian Wars …” Talia shook her head. “We went from exploring every corner of the galaxy to being terrified of our own shadow.”

  Exploration beyond known Valmoran space was still strictly regulated, almost taboo. “Yeah ... that’s kind of sad, too. But I meant the Threllians.” His heart clenched, looking at a display showing one of the Threllian-occupied homeworlds, littered with dead and dying Threllians, and sobbing native Valmorans tending to them.

  Talia pressed her mouth into a thin line. “It was a long time ago, though. Now we’ve got the Peacekeepers and the treaty to make sure nothing like that happens again.

  Matthai’s jaw clenched even as his heart ached. “I just … I can’t believe our ancestors went that far. I’m glad everyone is paying reparations, but it just … doesn’t feel like enough, you know?”

  “For nearly wiping out their entire species?” Talia scoffed. “No amount of money could make that okay.”

  Matthai looked over at Talia, whose nostrils had flared with anger. Her subspecies had historically been categorized as a ‘brute species’, acceptable for enslavement, and their population still hadn’t recovered.

  “Hey,” he said, “Let’s move on, okay?”

  Her gaze lingered on the exhibit a few moments longer, before she jerked her head and started walking again.

  Though they were leaving behind the shame of cultural atrocities, these exhibits always filled Matthai with familial shame.

  The Era of Exclusionism.

  Matthai’s stomach twisted as they paused before a display showing ornate robes and the first zanchion crafted during the Era of Exclusionism.

  Seventeen generations ago, Matthai’s ancestors decided to hide the Obelisks away.

  For eleven long, dark generations, the High Priests proclaimed that only those of God-touched Valtrellin blood were worthy to commune with the Gods.

  They built extravagant new Temples to replace the ancient ones, wore lavish clothing and jewelry, and invited the wealthy and powerful to dine with them.

  Ceremonial robes, zanchions, medallions—all introduced during this era of indulgence and elitism. That level of depraved privilege seemed at odds with the Temple’s current message of inclusivity and service.

  “I’m glad I didn’t live back then,” he murmured. He always wondered, if he had—would he have spoken out against Exclusionism? Or would he have been part of the problem?

  He hoped he would have seen the wrongness in the situation, but how could you ever know how you would act in a completely different situation?

  The angry man’s words from during his procession echoed in his mind. ‘Take back the Obelisks! The Obelisks belong to the people!’

  The man’s words made no sense—he was obviously troubled—but Matthai understood his anger. The Valtrellins during Exclusionism had no right to rule, not with the hubris they showed … just the thought of stealing the Gods away from the people was unconscionable.

  His conversation with Callum about hierarchy and the difference between earned and unearned privilege came to mind.

  As did his own words to Callum: ‘Blood may have secured my role, but it is mine to earn the right to rule.’

  Matthai was destined to become the High Priest, but what had he done to earn it?

  Nothing. He had been born a Valtrellin.

  He shook his head, trying to dispel those insidious doubts. The Gods must have a plan. Even if he didn’t understand it yet, unworthy as he felt, he had to have faith.

  Eventually, they reached the exhibit marking the abolishment of Exclusionism. Matthai exhaled, relieved.

  His more recent ancestors had reopened the Obelisks to the people, ushering in a new age of inclusivity and spiritual connection.

  After generations of Exclusionism, the Valtrellins returned to their true purpose: serving the Gods and guiding the Valmoran people.

  Grand ceremonies had marked the occasion, excitement rippling through the galaxy as the Temple once again welcomed all who sought wisdom from the Gods.

  When they reached the end of the museum, Matthai slipped behind the curtain that walled off the space reserved for future exhibits.

  He sat on the bench facing the empty space where his and Kat-a-reen’s exhibit would one day stand.

  Whether the galaxy was ready for it or not, Kat-a-reen was their next High Priestess.

  The thought both thrilled and terrified him.

  He could almost see it: the two of them, side by side, guiding the Valmoran people with wisdom and compassion. Though he barely knew her, Matthai had sensed Kat-a-reen’s resolve. He had no doubt she would make a brilliant counterpart.

  A half smile played on his lips as he imagined introducing her to the wonders of the Temple.

  She would love the clorias—he was sure of it.

  But it wasn’t just about showing Kat-a-reen his world. Matthai was eager to learn about his future mate. Their bond wasn’t love—not yet, but he knew that would come with time.

  With Kat-a-reen as his partner, the daunting task of being High Priest seemed ... manageable. Right, even.

  He remembered the faith that had shone in her eyes. Faith … in him.

  If he was destined to become someone worthy of such trust, that meant … he could do this?

  He let out a deep breath, nodding to himself. In a strange way, knowing that in the future his mate had unshakeable faith in him … made the impossible feel manageable. Predestined.

  The path ahead was clear.

  Find Kat-a-reen, bring her home, and together, they would shoulder the sacred duty of the High Priesthood. They would make their mark on Valmoran history, not just as names in an exhibit, but as faithful servants of their people and their Gods.

  His heart swelled with determination. He would earn his right to rule and prove himself worthy of the trust Kat-a-reen, his parents, his people, and the Gods placed in him.

  And they could face anything together. He was sure of it.

  First, though, he had to find her.

  He needed to contact Callum, to start planning their search. Maybe they could—

  A message notification from his parents intruded, flashing on his mindscreen.

  Usually, this would be merely irritating, but today … today it caused a surge of pure dread to flow from his head down to his toes, leaving him lightheaded in its wake.

  And then he felt it … the tingling at the back of his skull.

  The world tilted and twisted. Not again.

  “I am here. I am now. I will not jump away,” Matthai whispered, rocking back and forth to ground himself. Pressing his feet down into the floor.

  He struggled to draw a full breath. The weight of impending ... something ... pressed down on his chest.

  Breathe.

  The intensity of his reaction startled him. Why should a simple summons from his parents affect him so strongly?

  And yet, his gut told him this was no ordinary meeting.

  Nevertheless, he flicked his eyes to open it.

  Please report to the High Priests’ inner sanctum at your earliest convenience.

  Matthai swallowed, déjà vu making the world seem suddenly surreal.

  “What is it?” Talia asked, noticing his sudden stillness.

  He looked up at her, hands gripping the insides of his sleeves to hide their shaking. “It’s my parents. They want to see me in the inner sanctum. Immediately.”

  The walk to the cathedral passed in a blur. Matthai’s body felt weak, muscles shaking as they took the inner paths to the old Temple.

  The grounds were still busier than usual, but with the festivities over, most of the pilgrims had gone. For everyone else, life was finally returning to normal after months of preparation.

  Matthai barely registered his surroundings, too preoccupied with what this meeting might be about.

  Secrets.

  Somehow, his heart sank and raced at the same time.

  They passed through the ancient cathedral where he had taken his vows the night before. Bustling priests worked to clean and pack away the decorations from the ordination, restoring everything to its former state, as if nothing had changed.

  But everything had changed.

  His muscles tensed as they entered the back of the cathedral, the ancient stone walkways dim and narrow.

  The air grew cooler, carrying the musty scent of ages past. Matthai’s footsteps echoed off the stone walls, a thundering beat accompanying the rushing of his heartbeat in his ears.

  The back passages, only open to caretakers and older priests, felt vaguely tomb-like today.

  As they rounded a corner, Talia stopped, her hand briefly touching Matthai’s arm. “No one is allowed past this point,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Matthai nodded, swallowing hard. “None except High Priests and their successors.”

  Steeling himself, Matthai approached the door to the High Priest’s inner sanctum, pulse racing, unsure if it was from anticipation or dread.

  He had never been through this door, wasn’t sure he really wanted to go inside ... but his parents were waiting for him, so he forced his feet forward.

  The modern security panel seemed out of place in this ancient place—it seemed like overkill. Everyone knew this room was forbidden to all but the High Priests.

  He scanned his Hix, and a message appeared.

  Welcome, Ordained Scion Matthai Valtrellin. Please enter the security booth.

  The sleek metal door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a closet-sized metal room. Matthai hesitated, eyes darting between the booth and the ancient stonework surrounding it.

  It looked like the security airlocks used on the Arbiter ansibles. He’d read about them, but would need to ask Callum later. They were necessary to ensure no one impersonated a Representative during voting.

  But why would the inner sanctum require that level of security?

  When he stepped inside, the door slid closed behind him. It whirred and clicked into place, setting him even more on edge. He was locked inside.

  The sudden silence was oppressive, punctuated only by his ragged breathing.

  Please perform retinal scan and handprint verification, then stand still for a technology scan.

  His heart pounded, blood thrumming in his ears as he stood still for the scanner.

  Verification complete. You may now enter the inner sanctum.

  Matthai’s mind spun. What would he find there? What secrets did the room hold? The door slid open, revealing a—

  —disappointingly mundane chamber.

  The scent of polished wood wafted his way as he stepped inside.

  Thick blue curtains draped the walls, and a sturdy stone desk sat in each corner of the room. Bookshelves lined most walls, except one contained an altar with a cleansing bowl. A low table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by plush couches.

  A small but ornate box was the only item on the table.

  Matthai wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but this was underwhelming after the process he’d just gone through to enter.

  His parents rose as he entered, their faces a mixture of relief and apprehension. His father gestured to the couch. “Matthai, please, sit.”

  “Did you sleep well, son?” his mother asked. She attempted a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Dark circles ringed her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept. His father didn’t look much better.

  Matthai’s throat felt dry as he answered, “Fitfully.” he said, then rushed to add, “But I’m awake and ready.”

  Though he wasn’t as confident as he tried to sound. He wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for this meeting.

  His father nodded, face somber. He reached for the box on the table, sliding it in front of Matthai. “This is yours now.”

  The box was ornately carved of rich brown wood and inlaid with blue gems in the shape of the Valtrellin crest. He suspected he wouldn’t like what was inside, and his fears were confirmed when he opened the lid.

  Inside, on a bed of plush blue fabric, was a High Priest’s medallion: etched silver and blue gems elegantly crafted in the shape of the Valtrellin crest.

  Commissioned during the height of Exclusionism when the priests were at their most proud and extravagant.

  He wasn’t sure why his family kept the cursed things. They symbolized the most shameful period in the Valtrellin family’s history. A symbol of self-important indulgence and greed.

  He pulled it out. Heavy, robust. It must be worth a fortune.

  “Go ahead—put it on,” his mother urged. Once he had, she added, “That medallion is precious—you must never take it off and guard it with your life.”

  Matthai’s brow furrowed, his fingers tracing the intricate design. They were expensive, sure, and had sentimental value, but ‘guard it with your life’ seemed extreme. It was just a piece of jewelry.

  “It’s a key,” his father added, answering his unspoken question.

  Matthai’s eyes widened. That ... was about the last thing he expected to hear. “To what?”

  His father leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. “We’ll get to that. But first ...” Soren closed his eyes, then looked over and met Phina’s gaze. “I suppose we should get this over with.”

  His mother took a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap. “Today, we will share many truths with you. Secrets guarded by the Valtrellin family for seventeen generations.” She covered her face with her hands briefly, a gesture Matthai had rarely seen in his regal mother. “Gods, this is difficult. I still remember the day your grandparents brought me here.”

  “And I remember you bringing me here after our mating ceremony,” Soren said.

  Phina gave him a sad little smile. “Yeah, not exactly the mating gift I would have liked to give you, darling.”

  Soren grasped her hand tight. “We got through it.”

  Then Soren caught Matthai’s gaze and inclined his head.

  Matthai’s stomach churned at the thought of burdening Kat-a-reen with whatever this was. Maybe he could shoulder it alone. But it didn’t sound like that was how it worked.

  Phina leaned forward, her gaze intense. “First, understand there is an explanation for everything we’re about to tell you. The Valtrellins have served the Valmoran people for 217 generations.”

  “The people?” Matthai’s said. “I thought we served the Gods.”

  His parents shared a look that made him wish he hadn’t asked.

  Phina reached for his hand. “Oh, Matthai. We still have much to explain.”

  Something dark and ominous settled in Matthai’s gut, making him glad he’d mostly skipped breakfast. He had a feeling that whatever he was about to hear was going to be heart-rending and horrific.

  His father sighed—a deep, weary sound. “Matthai, what we’re about to tell you ... it’s not easy to hear. But you must understand, it’s crucial. Seventeen generations ago, the Obelisks ... changed. By the accounts of our ancestors, it was sudden, and the results were devastating.”

  Matthai felt the blood drain from his face, his fingers digging into the plush fabric of the couch. Seventeen generations ago … that was the start of Exclusionism. When the Valtrellins declared only the High Priests were holy enough to commune with the Obelisks.

  But there was nothing in the histories about something being wrong with them.

  It couldn’t be true. There were over three hundred Obelisks in the galaxy, and before Exclusionism, pilgrims and scholars had free access to them. If they changed, surely someone would have written about it.

  Everyone would have written about it.

  “No,” Matthai said, shaking his head, “If the Obelisks changed, it would be all over the histories.” But even as he spoke, his voice faltered.

  “You’re right to question this, son,” his father said. “But the truth is complicated. By the time our ancestors learned what was happening, the danger had already begun to spread. It would have been impossible to remove all traces of what happened.”

  “There was no alternative but to hide the truth in plain sight,” his mother said. “Now, it is so mundane as to go unnoticed.”

  Mundane? Hidden in plain sight? None of this was making sense.

  Phina placed her hands in her lap, running her fingertips over the filigreed pattern on her robes. “You have to understand—our ancestors made a tremendous sacrifice, inciting the people to hate them, enduring endless threats against their lives, and guarding the Temple against the constant threat of war.”

  “They had to—everything depended on the people believing our motivation for hiding the Obelisks was inflated self-importance.”

  “You’re saying Exclusionism was all an act?” Matthai asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

  His father nodded. “They bore those dangers, all that hatred—to protect the Valmoran people.

  Matthai’s mind reeled. Protect them from what? The Obelisks?

  That made no sense.

  The Obelisks were the source of knowledge and truth. Of things great and small. Seen and unseen.

  The Valtrellins from the Era of Exclusionism were almost universally reviled. Now his parents claimed their heinous behavior had somehow been ... heroic. But how? Why?

  “This isn’t making any sense—”

  “—Matthai,” his father interjected, his voice firm but understanding, “Perhaps the rest of this story will be easier to explain once we go down below.”

  Matthai’s eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of a hidden passage. Down below? He glanced around, seeing no doors, no stairways.

  His mother stood, her face a mask of resolve. “I wish we didn’t have to share this burden with you, Matthai. But we must.”

  His parents moved in the direction of the back wall.

  “Come,” she said.

  They approached one of the many bookshelves, and she removed a book from the second shelf. Reaching through the gap, it looked like she was searching for something, then she tugged her arm down.

  A hidden lever?

  Matthai’s breath caught as he took a step backward. The bookshelf slid out of the way, revealing the stone wall.

  And a depression in the stone with the exact contours of the Valtrellin medallion.

  “This is it, son.”

  Matthai’s hands trembled as he removed the medallion from his neck. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was down there. If it was terrible enough that his ancestors would rather lie, allow the people to hate them ...

  Perhaps it was better not to know.

  But, no. Matthai was the Ordained Scion now, and whatever was down there was now his responsibility.

  But beyond that, now that he was aware of the existence of secrets—and the extremes his family took to obscure them—a desire to know stirred within him. Temptation and perverse fascination.

  Knowing that terrible secrets lurked, but never learning what they were ... over time, that would drive him insane.

  He only hoped that the truth was less devastating than he feared.

  Placing the medallion into the depression in the stone wall, he heard the faint sounds of machinery working, clicking, whirring. Whatever was happening was mechanical, unusual in this modern age.

  A rush of cool, musty air hit Matthai’s face as the wall receded. A crack appeared down the center, becoming two stone doors that swung backward.

  Into darkness.

  His head spun. This was too surreal ... secret passages in the ancient Temple? It was like something out of an adventure vid.

  Or a horror vid. Suddenly, Matthai remembered every character who had ever ventured into the dark unknown ... only to meet some dreadful fate.

  A shiver ran down his spine, even as sweat beaded on the back of his neck.

  The light from the room only extended a few feet into the corridor—no, it was a stairway. It gaped open like the gullet of a creature of nightmares.

  Matthai stood, transfixed, at the precipice.

  Down there rested secrets so terrible that generations of Valtrellins invited shame and hatred on themselves—had nearly incited a war against the Temple—just to keep them hidden.

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  Remember to rate and follow, as I will be posting new chapters every Wed and Sun. Thank you so much for reading--stay awesome! - Poppy