Chapter 1 Lyra #2
“Ada!” I hiss as my hands and knees sink into a layer of soft, wet, wriggling sludge. “Can you do a scan down here? Do you detect any life forms? Anything particularly venomous or creepy or crawly?”
Infrared scans detect multiple life forms of varying degrees of danger.
My hands brush against something slimy that hisses and burrows in the opposite direction. Panic-laden nausea rolls through me and I allow myself the tiniest whine.
“Do I want to know what they are?”
The probability is high that you do not.
The tunnel veers sharply left, then right, curving downward beneath the temple.
Over the sounds of my limbs squelching through muck, I can hear the faint rush of water.
A muggy breeze blows past me from somewhere up ahead, smelling like silt and vegetation.
Perhaps the shaft lets out near the river encircling the temple.
Assuming I can find my way out of here, I’ll head back to my ship and wait until nightfall to come back, find the idol, and then hightail it off this cursed planet.
The tunnel starts to rise upward and, at last, a pinprick of light appears in the blackness ahead.
I crawl faster, spurred on by the warm, buoyant relief flooding my body.
Bye bye, creepy tunnel! Thick greenery blocks much of the view, but the sound of the river grows louder when I near the end, hopefully far enough away from the mystery intruder to make a quick escape, if necessary.
I tumble out onto a plush carpet of dark purple moss and scan the area.
It’s not the riverbank.
I’m still in the temple complex in some kind of inner courtyard. Towering walls of pitted black rock encircle the overgrown garden and at the center stands a tall, carved figure—some likeness of the warrior monks who built this temple and worshipped the stars.
I take in the long limbs and muscular torso of the alien statue. His face holds a serene expression written in the captivating eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips.
“Don’t recall coming across any Xylothians before. He’s kind of cute,” I murmur. “I’d hit it.”
The figure is a Xylothian Protector. A class of warriors known for their devotion to their sky-borne deities, their single-minded focus on training in lethal hand-to-hand combat, and their abstinence from alcohol, frivolity, and intercourse. You would not be compatible, Ada chirps in my helmet.
“Pity,” I reply, already moving on. “Now, what’s the best way out of here?”
The walls around the courtyard are partially obscured by shoulder-high shrubs studded with hot pink flowers, so it takes me a minute to find the low door tucked into the back wall.
As I duck to enter, I turn my helmet lights back on.
This chamber is mostly intact—as if the voracious jungle itself has deigned to honor the sanctity of the space.
The vibrant illumination from my helmet lights falls across intricate reliefs carved into the walls and even though I’ve seen my fair share of otherworldly wonders, I can’t help the small gasp that escapes my lips. Focus, Lyra. One relic left—just one—and you’re done.
The carvings shimmer like constellations frozen in stone, a reminder of what’s at stake if I screw this up. If I’m caught here, I’m finished. Not just dead—worse—frozen in my own kind of miserable stasis, still tied to the same monster, the same work, the same horrors.
Dust drifts from the ceiling as I move deeper, the beam of my helmet slicing through the dark. Shapes emerge from the gloom—a celestial map, carved so precisely the stars seem to twinkle when I pass my light over them. All around me, the heavens whirl.
I recognize some of the star systems etched into the stone, but many of them are unknown to me.
Dad would’ve killed to see this—to trace the missing constellations no one on Earth’s even named.
An unwanted flare of loneliness surges, deepening the cracks in my heart that formed long ago.
I breathe slowly through the ache, and through the blur of gathering tears I see something sparkling in the darkness.
At the center of the opposite wall stands another statue—a Xylothian priestess, I’m guessing—kneeling before a polished golden sun. In her cupped palms, she holds…
“No fucking way,” I murmur, taking a tentative step forward.
The Solar Mother idol. The figurine glitters like gold but is made of a precious metal far rarer—enaurium.
Small symbols trail from the top of the idol’s head across her breasts and down her legs.
My pulse kicks hard. That’s it—the key to my way out, sitting in a goddess’s hands.
I’m eager to get the idol back to my ship so I can copy the writing down and get to work translating it.
My fingers itch to pluck the treasure from the hands of the statue, but I’ve been down this road before and I know better.
One wrong move, and the whole chamber could collapse and bury me six feet under alien stone.
The first thing I need to do is survey the area—the Chamber of the Early Sun, if my dad’s journals are right—for any traps or ancient security measures.
Just because these Xylothians built this monument thousands of years ago doesn’t mean they were primitive or foolish.
If this mother goddess is the reason for the creation of this entire temple complex, there are bound to be some boobytraps.
“Ada, do a scan of this chamber with particular attention on any load-bearing columns or walls. I’m looking for traps here. I’d love to grab the goods and get out of here without having my hand chopped off.”
The floor directly around the feet of the main statue is hollow beneath the tiles. Scans indicate stepping on the floor within a three-meter radius of the base will result in the collapse of the ground beneath you. Again.
“Great. Instant death, Xylothian style. Super helpful,” I reply, trying to work out the best way to get to the outstretched hands and my future payday.
To the left of the statue stands a long, low rectangular crypt made from the same pitted black rock as the courtyard outside.
“Anything weird about the creepy sarcophagus?”
I do not detect any surface abnormalities.
“Good enough for me,” I say, jumping on top of the moss-slick surface. I slip when I land, going down hard on my knees. With a curse, I wobble back up and gauge the distance from the edge of the crypt to the statue.
Would you like me to calculate the odds of you achieving a successful landing?
“Never tell me the odds,” I grunt, leaping forward and reaching out with both arms. Adrenaline spikes as I consider the amount of noise I’m making and the mystery intruder skulking around nearby. I can’t turn back now, though—not when I’m this close.
I slam into the shoulder of the statue and hook my arms around its neck, lowering just enough to reach the shimmering idol. Tentatively, I reach out.
It’s warm to the touch and emits a faint, vibrating hum. That’s unexpected and…slightly alarming. I can’t decide if I’m more worried about something supernatural or something toxic.
“Uh, this thing is safe to handle, right? I mean, it’s not radioactive or anything.”
Radioactivity levels are within the acceptable range for a half-human, half-Velusian hybrid.
“You could just say ‘it’s fine,’ Ada. No need to bring my parents into this,” I say, not bothering to hide my bitterness.
It’s fine.
“Thank you,” I reply sarcastically, pulling the heavy idol from its resting place. I stash it in the open pocket of my thigh holster and climb back up to the head of the statue. Begging the stone priestess’s forgiveness, I launch myself back over the crypt, landing with another inelegant crash.
The way out of the chamber is relatively easy this time and when I find myself back in the courtyard, I spot an opening in the wall I must’ve missed before. Crouching low, I cross through the crumbling gateway, hoping the intruder has already come and gone.
The air hits me like a wet towel to the face, but I can’t stop the grin that tugs at my lips.
My boots sink into moss as I push through the foliage, lungs burning, heart drumming with the echo of the escape.
Every nerve feels lit, raw, alive. Just a few miles east along the river and I’ll be back at my ship—almost there, almost done.
The thought makes my pulse jump all over again.
Then I can stow the cargo, take an actual shower, and finally dig into the secret ration of chocolate my dad smuggled me from his last trip to Earth.
The thought of him catches me off guard—a flicker of warmth that twists before it lands.
For a second, the jungle noise dulls, and I swear I can smell the engine grease, dirt, and ozone that always clung to his jacket.
My chest tightens, but I shake it off. I can’t afford to drown in ghosts right now.
It’s as good a time as any to break out the good stuff and celebrate.
Because for once, I actually pulled it off.
No alarms, no guards, no blood—well, very little blood.
Just me, the relic, and the open sky ahead.
Stars, I might even pop open the bottle of fizzy carbonyl I stole off that Jovian Stormrider last year.
He swore it’d taste like lightning. Tonight, I’ll find out if freedom does too.
With a bounce in my step, I make for the riverbank, careful to veer away from any poisonous-looking plants.
The first sun is setting over the horizon, bathing the jungle in melted golden light and lowering the sweltering temperature to something bordering on bearable.
Vibrant birds chirp, fragrant tropical flowers bloom, and the milky teal river burbles over mossy green rocks.
For the first time in months, everything feels like it’s working out in my favor.
“Hey Ada,” I begin, relaxed enough to indulge my curiosity. “You said the Celestial Temple was in the territory of the Xylothian Protectorate. What are they about?”
They are about one and a half meters behind you.
“What the shit?”
I whip around, just in time to catch the butt of a plasma rifle to the temple.