ARC I — "ASHES OF THE FAITHFUL"
CHAPTER 2 — "THE BOOK OF LIES"
Morning came, pale and cold. Smoke from the night's offerings still lingered over the city like a dying ghost.
Adrian's cheek burned where the alien's staff had struck him, but what hurt more was the silence at breakfast — the way his parents didn't speak, as if words themselves could draw punishment.
His father finally broke it.
"You should go to the mines today. Help the others. Keep your head down."
Adrian nodded slowly, though his mind was already elsewhere. He couldn't shake the image of the alien priest floating above the altar, speaking of devotion while humans starved below.
On the path to the mines, he met Ryn, his closest friend — a freckled boy with restless eyes.
"You really stood up to them?" Ryn asked, disbelief mixed with awe.
Adrian smirked faintly. "Someone had to."
"You're insane. They'll come for you, you know that?"
"They already did," Adrian said. "I'm still breathing."
Ryn looked around nervously, lowering his voice. "Hey… you ever heard of the Old Library?"
Adrian frowned. "You mean the one that collapsed years ago?"
"Collapsed, yeah — but rumor says there's still something inside. Something they didn't burn."
Adrian stopped walking. "What kind of something?"
Ryn leaned closer. "A book. About them. About the gods."
Adrian stared for a long moment, then said quietly, "Where?"
Ryn's voice trembled. "You're not seriously thinking of going there—"
"Where, Ryn?" Adrian repeated.
That night, Adrian slipped out while the city slept. The sky glowed faint red, the ships above humming softly like mechanical hearts.
The Old Library sat at the far end of the ruins, swallowed by roots and dust. The walls leaned, windows shattered like broken eyes.
He pushed the door open — it creaked like a cry.
"Mom used to bring me here," he whispered to himself. "She said this is where truth lived."
Dust floated in the air like ash. Torn pages scattered across the floor, burned and brittle.
He knelt, running his hand over the faded ink. Most of it was unreadable — just fragments of prayers, records, histories that no longer made sense.
Then he saw it.
Under a fallen pillar, a faint metallic glint.
He shoved debris aside until his hands met something cold — a black book, its cover wrapped in thin silver thread that pulsed faintly, as if alive.
He turned it over.
No title. No symbol. Just weight.
Adrian opened the cover carefully. The first page shimmered faintly — alien script mixed with human words. His eyes widened as he slowly read the faint translation etched below.
"They came not from heaven… but from the dark between worlds."
He froze.
The next line burned itself into his mind:
"Their light was stolen. Their godhood, a lie."
Adrian's heart raced. He flipped through the pages — diagrams of the aliens' anatomy, sketches of ships, cities before the invasion. It was like seeing forbidden history — truth buried beneath centuries of lies.
He whispered to himself, "They're not gods… they're—"
"Aliens," said a voice behind him.
Adrian spun, slamming the book shut.