Valmoran Republic, Planet Kronai, The Temple of the Seven

  Matthai Valtrellin, Future High Priest

  Matthai squinted into the gaping maw of the dark stairwell.

  “There is no electricity in the archive, and no fire is permitted,” Phina said. “So always remember to bring a light source with you.”

  The word “archive” reverberated in his mind, sending a chill down his spine.

  A flicker of unease stirred in Matthai’s gut. What secrets could require such elaborate precautions?

  “Also, your Hix signal will be blocked once we enter.”

  A hint of forced amusement entered Soren’s tone as he added, “I hope your Standard isn’t too rusty, son.”

  “I’ll manage.” He accepted the Safelight with trembling hands, then followed his father.

  He imagined it was what venturing into the void felt like.

  Once inside, his mother returned to the doorway to press her medallion into a depression in the wall.

  The doors swung shut behind them, drowning them in oppressive silence. Darkness pressed in, suffocating and palpable. The stairway extended so far in front of them that the light cast by their lanterns tapered off into nothing.

  As they descended, the temperature plummeted, the chill seeping into Matthai’s bones. With a shaking hand, he reached out to steady himself against the wall.

  In the flickering light of the lanterns, Matthai realized with a shock that the tunnel was bored straight through solid rock. And to think ... this had been inside—no, beneath—the cathedral he visited daily. He shivered.

  Generations of dark legacy seemed to press down on him with each step. How long had his family guarded these secrets?

  And at what cost?

  Finally, their light shone on a door up ahead. This one, unlike the one above, didn’t require a key. But it was bolted shut.

  His mother released the bolt and then pushed the door open. “Come.” She stepped through and beckoned for him to follow.

  Matthai held his light up, shining it into the room. The vast chamber was almost cave-like, except it was obviously well-maintained. The air chilled his nostrils, but wasn’t musty or damp. It smelled ... like old paper and ancient secrets.

  Books.

  Wall-to-wall, the space was crammed with shelves of actual physical books. Thousands of them.

  Matthai’s heart raced, foreboding blending with awe at the sight. The lure of secrets was compelling, enticing him to explore—but it was nearly smothered by his apprehension of what he might uncover. Nearly, but not quite.

  Curiosity got the better of him, and he stepped forward before he realized it, walking into the narrow gap between the nearest rows of shelves.

  “What is all this?”

  His mother answered, “Every version of the Legends of the Lost Colonies. And every shred of evidence surrounding them that could be gathered.”

  “The Legends? Why?” Matthai whirled to face her, heart pounding. A terrible suspicion rose, but he pushed it back. “But those are just stories, right?”

  “No, son.” His father frowned, shaking his head. “Our ancestors spread most of the original Legends.

  His mother caught his eyes. “But you’re right—they’re mostly just stories. Before long, they became so popular we no longer needed to create them.”

  Mostly? Matthai’s world tilted, his mind swirling with questions.

  There wasn’t a Valmoran alive who didn’t know about the Legends of the Lost Colony—but why would the Temple have created them?

  If the Legends were true ... but they obviously couldn’t all be true.

  The Legends were adventure stories—or horror stories—depending on the adaptation. But no matter what, several things remained constant.

  A secret colony ship, built during the height of Anti-Expansionism. A roguish captain and a zealous priest, leading over a thousand Valmorans on a clandestine journey to find a lost homeworld.

  And in the end ... they never returned.

  A lost homeworld.

  His mind spun with the implications, some too terrible to bear.

  Matthai’s legs trembled, threatening to give out. He gripped the nearest shelf for support.

  If there was a lost homeworld out there, then the Temple lied to the people. No—his ancestors lied. They announced that the Gods told them all homeworlds had been discovered.

  He swallowed through the lump forming in his throat and found his mouth had gone dry.

  Maybe ... there had been a mission, but no secret homeworld?

  Because if there had been another homeworld, one that hadn’t been returned to the fold ... then his family had been acting in direct defiance of the will of the Gods for seventeen generations.

  Matthai’s mind vacillated between outrage at the deception and a desperate need to believe in his family’s integrity.

  “You’re not saying ...” Matthai’s voice was barely a whisper, the words sticking in his throat.

  His father closed his eyes, nodding. “Our ancestors were able to overwhelm the true version of events with more compelling Legends.” He gestured at the shelves of books. “Every false account of the Legends is in this archive. And hidden among them, the only copy of the truth.”

  A chill ran through Matthai, his skin prickling with dread. He glanced back towards the door. Part of him wanted to run, to pretend he’d never heard any of this.

  He could never un-know what they were about to tell him.

  “Come, son,” his mother said, “Let us show you to your desk. We have it all set up for you.”

  Desk? He trailed after her, feeling dazed. Each step felt like a monumental effort, his body heavy with the weight of the revelations.

  He had to be dreaming.

  Security booths, medallions that acted as secret keys, secret passages under the cathedral, the Legends being true ... this had to be a dream.

  It had to.

  But the numbness in his fingers, the heaviness in his legs—felt all too real.

  As they walked deeper into the archive, a part of Matthai clung to his knowledge of his parents. They were honorable people, great High Priests. If they were willing to perpetuate whatever this was, there had to be a good reason, right?

  The rows of bookshelves opened into a work area in the back. In the center, a large stone table sat surrounded by chairs. Along the back wall, four desks were in a neat row.

  Enough for the current High Priestess and Priest, the heir, and the heir’s mate.

  One for each person bound to these cursed secrets.

  Kat-a-reen’s face flashed in his mind, but he pushed it away. He couldn’t bear to think of her, not now. Not when his entire world was crumbling around him.

  Instead, he surveyed the room.

  His parents must occupy the desks on the right since they were clearly in use. The far one was undoubtedly his father’s—neat and tidy. The other overflowed with books, some sitting open to different pages. That one had to be his mother’s.

  The far desk on the left was bare, but the one his mother approached had something on top.

  A book? He stepped closer.

  “This will be your workspace when you’re down in the archives. We never work electronically here, and you won’t have your Hix to assist you, so I hope you paid attention in your ancient language courses.”

  He bristled, but held his tongue. Was that why he had been required to take so many of those classes? They told him it was so he could study the ancient religious texts and impart wisdom to the people.

  Another deception. The realization cut deep, a blade to the chest.

  Anger flared in Matthai’s chest, warring with a lifetime of trust and respect for his parents.

  “This is your first journal. In it, you will record everything you study and observe here. Everything that future High Priests may need to know. It must never leave this room, except for when you are on a tour of the temples. The journals are bio-coded. No one but you can open this one, and we will teach you to read and write in the code we use for record-keeping.”

  Record what? And bio-locked journals, written in code? They still hadn’t explained ... any of this.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  His cheeks heated, jaw clenching. Matthai wasn’t prone to anger, but right now, he might explode if they didn’t start making sense. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together.

  Matthai took a deep breath, counting to seven, trying to calm his body and mind.

  There had to be an explanation. His parents were good people.

  They toiled day and night to inspire and guide the people of the Valmoran homeworlds. He had seen the love shining in their eyes when they worked with visitors to the Temple.

  He had seen it.

  With deliberate patience, he took a step backward to look them both in the eyes.

  “Why don’t we sit down, and you can explain this to me?” Then he moved to the table in the center of the room, nearly falling into his seat; his legs were so weak.

  Once they joined him, they sat for a moment in painful silence. His parents stared at one another as if in silent conversation.

  For all the Gods’ sake—why wouldn’t they just come out with it already?

  With a calm he didn’t feel, Matthai said, “I need to know the truth. Explain this to me, please.”

  They shared another glance, and then his father reached over to squeeze his mate’s hand. Then he nodded, almost to himself, and began.

  “Seventeen generations ago, a priest named Helia arrived at the First Temple in a panic. She demanded to speak to the High Priests, in private. She told them she’d been on a holy mission granted to her by the Obelisk of her Temple. Helia claimed to have been given knowledge of a secret gate that led to the final Valmoran homeworld.”

  “But when she went to the High Priests of her own temple to request that they form an expedition, they thought she’d gone mad and put her in seclusion.”

  “Helia escaped, feeling what she described as a relentless compulsion to complete the Gods’ mission. Feeling she couldn’t rely on the Temple to help, she convinced an explorer that she knew the way to an undiscovered homeworld.”

  “However, in those days, because of the Anti-Expansionist policies in the Old Valmoran Empire, they had to construct the ship in deep space, and did everything they could to cover up all records of their activities.”

  “They found the gate, exactly where the Obelisk told Helia it would be. But when they went through it, into the Black Swirl—”

  Matthai’s eyes widened. “—the Black Swirl is real, too?” It was another myth—one told to scare people on space voyages. A fabled galaxy that made ships disappear.

  He gripped the sleeves of his robes to calm his shaking hands.

  His father nodded.

  “What happened to them?” The words poured out, even though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

  His father’s face darkened. “According to Helia, they located the homeworld and established a base of operations from which to initiate first contact.”

  That answered one of his questions, and he didn’t like the explanation.

  Matthai’s stomach churned.

  His ancestors had told the people all homeworlds were discovered.

  These weren’t just secrets … they were lies. And if they lied about this ...

  But, no. There must be a reasonable explanation. There must.

  “Before they could make contact, a creature Helia called ‘The Nightmare’ visited them. It appeared to all of them, first as a dark cloud, then morphing into ‘the visage of each person’s self’ before commanding them in their own voices.”

  The hair on the back of Matthai’s neck rose. “What did it say to them?”

  “It told them the galaxy was claimed, then gave them a time limit to leave or be eliminated.”

  A chill ran down Matthai’s spine as the implications hit him. If this Nightmare was real, maybe that was the reason for the lies?

  Matthai leaned forward, gripping the edge of his seat, the stone digging into his palms. “But the ship never returned. That’s how the story always goes—why didn’t they return after the warning?”

  “According to Helia, their compulsion to complete the mission was too strong. She saw the danger and fought through her own madness, but couldn’t convince anyone to leave with her. That was when she returned to the First Temple to warn the High Priests.”

  Matthai’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible. A lost homeworld, a mysterious creature, a doomed mission ... it was almost too fantastic to be believed.

  “So what happened? Did the Temple send help?”

  His father shook his head. “Unfortunately, they believed she was insane. She’d been reported missing by her home Temple, and her strange ideas had also been reported. They ... detained her.”

  Detained her? “What, they threw her in a holding cell?” Matthai’s voice rose, disbelief and anger coloring his tone.

  Soren grimaced. “Yes, but out of caution, they also sent a scout to the location she had given and ordered a thorough investigation to see if these ideas had spread throughout the Valmoran people.”

  “And it was fortunate they did,” his mother said gravely.

  “Because?”

  “The High Priests realized dangerous ideas were spreading, threatening to plunge the Valmoran people into civil war during a time of fragile recovery.”

  Matthai’s head spun, the implications whirling through his mind. The Great Threllian War, Anti-Expansionism, the threat of civil war …

  “But ... why were they so worried? It was just ideas, right?”

  They shared a glance, then both shook their heads. Phina took Matthai’s hand in hers. “Not just ideas, Matthai—though you should never discount how insidious ideas can be. No—the Obelisks were spreading the compulsion to go. A compulsion so intense that people had to be imprisoned to prevent them from trying to fulfill the Obelisk’s mandate.”

  His shoulders felt heavy, the situation threatening to crush him. His ancestors’ impossible choice was alarmingly clear: risk the destruction of their civilization through war or alien threat ... or take drastic measures.

  It didn’t make the deception about the lost homeworld any easier to stomach.

  “So what happened to the scout ship?”

  Phina shook her head. “When they found the base of operations in the Black Swirl, it was deserted. Everyone was just ... gone. The Temple scouts were too late.”

  He clutched the insides of his sleeves. He’d heard countless versions of the Legends, and some were horror stories. But this version was by far the most chilling.

  “What do you mean, ‘gone’?” he asked. “Like, they evacuated?”

  His father shook his head. “No, son—the base was intact. No ships had left. The base reported life signs one second, and the next, no Valmoran life was detected.” He took a deep breath, as if it physically pained him to continue.

  Matthai shook his head in horrified disbelief. An entire expedition vanished without a trace? The mere thought of a monster that powerful ... it was the stuff of nightmares.

  “When the scout returned, the High Priests freed Helia. They assembled the High Priests’ Council for a secret emergency session. After reviewing all evidence—and after careful deliberation—they resolved that the only way to guarantee the safety of the Valmoran people and prevent civil war within the Old Empire was to destroy all traces of what happened.”

  Matthai shook his head vehemently, his voice rising with each word. “But that doesn’t make sense—there had to be other options!”

  His father scrubbed a hand across his jaw, then let out a soft groan. “You have to understand—by that point, it had become clear that ...” He again made eye contact with the High Priestess, who nodded, resignation written across her features. “... that something was wrong with the Obelisks.”

  Matthai felt a cold sweat creep over his skin. “What do you mean? The Obelisks are fine. I was just there, last night ...” His voice trailed off, uncertainty and dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

  His mind reeled as the puzzle pieces began falling into place.

  If something had been wrong with the Obelisks for generations, it could explain the extreme measures his ancestors had taken.

  But the implications for their faith, their entire way of life, were staggering.

  His parents exchanged a long, heavy look, the burden they carried etched into every line of their faces.

  Frustration surged, fueled by Matthai’s apprehension about where the conversation was headed.

  “Matthai ...” His mother closed her eyes, seeming to work up the courage to continue. When she opened them, they glistened with unshed tears. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.”

  His heart drummed, his chest rising and falling with his too-quick breaths. The anticipation was unbearable, the dread all-consuming.

  Forcing gentleness into his tone, Mathai reached across the table to take her hand. “Mother, just tell me ... you have to, right?”

  She sighed. “You were in the Museum of Valmoran History this morning. It’s ... nice, the immersive experience.”

  Matthai furrowed his brow at the non sequitur. Why was she talking to him about the museum? “Well, sure, but I turned off the sound partway through so I could think.”

  “Matthai ... what if I told you there are parts of the Temple’s Hix program that cannot be deactivated? Areas where we don’t even tell people that a Hix overlay exists?”

  His blood ran cold, heart skipping a beat. He shook his head violently.

  “Do you remember when the Hix device was invented?”

  “Six generations ago...” The words caught in his throat, mouth dry.

  Six generations.

  No, it couldn’t be ... they wouldn’t ... not that.

  Never that.

  His ancestors had reopened the Obelisks to the public six generations ago, after eleven generations of Exclusionism.

  With great fanfare and a celebration of the new state-of-the-art Temple Hix program …

  The foundations under his feet crumbled, reality rending into disconnected pieces.

  “No. That can’t be. We wouldn’t do that to the people.” The volume of his voice rose alongside his panic. “We wouldn’t do that to the Gods.”

  She swallowed audibly, then gave a weak nod.

  Denial, hot and fierce, surged through Matthai.

  It was a lie—it had to be.

  His family, his faith ... everything he had ever known and believed in ...

  He could accept that his family had lied about Exclusionism, and maybe even that they concealed the existence of the lost homeworld.

  But this? No.

  His family would never lie to the people about something so ...

  Sacred.

  Holy.

  Fundamental to the Valmoran way of life.

  He had just been there last night. The Obelisk had spoken to him. Spoken into his mind, imparted wisdom from the Gods.

  ‘Words, once spoken, cannot be unspoken.’

  Those words had been a message to Matthai. From the Obelisk. From the Gods.

  Except, no—they had been just part of an elaborate simulation. A ruse.

  A hoax.

  A lie.

  The world began to distort. If Matthai didn’t calm himself, he would jump away.

  His breath came in quick, sharp gasps, chest heaving with the effort to draw air. Panic clawed at his throat, threatening to consume him.

  He had to calm down, to regain control ... but how could he, when everything he had ever known was a lie?

  Breathe. In through the nose—one, two, three, four.

  If his suspicions were true, then the Valtrellin family no longer served the Gods—and hadn’t for the last seventeen generations.

  Out through the mouth—five, six, seven. Just breathe.

  If they were true, then six generations ago, his family conspired to commit sacrilege.

  I am here. I am now. I will not jump away.

  He didn’t want to believe it ...

  The Hix device could project images into people’s minds and sounds into their thoughts.

  Valmorans used it to augment reality every day. To seamlessly translate spoken and written language.

  Every person who set foot on Temple grounds was required to enable the Temple Hix program.

  It was so mundane that it went unnoticed—just part of the process of identifying pilgrims before they entered. It was required, so they could interact with the Temple exhibits in their native language.

  And also ... those security measures Talia mentioned …

  Pilgrims bathed, dressed in Temple robes, scanned for unapproved technology ...

  For the protection of the Obelisks ...

  Except that was a lie, too.

  They prohibited unapproved technology because they couldn’t allow anyone to discover the truth about the Obelisks.

  Matthai’s stomach soured, and he swallowed, tasting bile. This couldn’t be true.

  He had sacrificed everything for the Temple, for his duty.

  His dreams, his life, his future ...

  And for what? Liyara had died fleeing from this duty.

  He could be searching for Kat-a-reen right now, if not for this duty.

  All to fulfill his sacred role.

  To honor the Obelisks and act as a servant to the Gods.

  Except that his family no longer served the Gods. He wasn’t sure what they served anymore.

  And yet ... if the Obelisks had truly gone wrong, if they had been compelling Valmorans to take a voyage that led to annihilation ...

  Anger at the lies warred with a creeping, miserable understanding of the impossible dilemma his ancestors had faced.

  Though he hated it, it made sense that they felt they had no other option.

  Maybe it had been the only option.

  His hands shook as he spoke his next words—from fear, from anger, from dread. Matthai didn’t want their confirmation, but he needed it.

  He closed his eyes, steeling himself. Preparing to be devastated.

  Then he spoke, his voice resigned.

  “We never reopened the Obelisks to the people, did we?”

  His father shook his head, expression weary. “No, son—we did not.”

  And with those words, Matthai Valtrellin’s world crumbled for the second time.

  He had never imagined anything could be more heart-wrenching than losing Liyara.

  But how was he supposed to reconcile a lifetime spent revering the Obelisks, of sacrifice in the name of duty, with the knowledge that the Obelisks in the Temples were mere technological idols?

  As he scrutinized his parents’ expectant faces, his gut lurched. They appeared unfamiliar, as if they were not who they claimed to be.

  As if he’d never known them.

  Was there anything he could trust at this point? There was a lost homeworld out there. The Legends were based on fact. The Obelisks were a hoax.

  If his family was willing to spread false information, cover up the truth, and conspire for generations to keep the real Obelisks from the people, what else were they capable of?

  “So—the Obelisks in the cathedral above are ... fakes.”

  His father closed his eyes and gave a sad nod.

  “Please tell me that’s everything,” Matthai said, though he feared the answer.

  “I’m afraid not, son. The secrets we bear go much, much deeper.”

  Dying to know what happens next? I have good news - books 2-4 are available on Amazon, and will be available on all retailers on 6-17-2025. You can check out the rest of the series on my website at:

  I hope you decide to continue the story. <3

  If you've enjoyed this story, please take a moment to leave a rating/review. Thank you so much for reading! - Poppy