Chapter 6
The Anu
“The Great Colonizers”
Eons ago, during the dawning of the cosmos, the divinely wise Goddess Amantius sought to weave the very fabric of existence: time, space, dark matter, Light matter.
From her ethereal form, she breathed life into all realms, ushering forth sacred sentient beings: anointed Celestials, who were in turn imbued with the spark of her own divinity.
As she beheld the vast emptiness which she had shaped, sprinkled heavily with worlds of all kinds, a longing stirred within her heart.
The lonely ache compelled Amantius to forge a magnitude of lifeforms, companions to stand with her in her eternal solitude.
Born of love and Light, Amantius yearned to bestow her mystical gifts upon beings crafted in her very own resplendent image.
Amantius birthed countless entities of manifold forms, yet she found none that truly embodied the humility and warmth that dwelled within her spirit. Undeterred, she persevered, manifesting diverse creations that spilled across the many worlds shaped by her blessed hands.
It was in this sacred endeavour that the Goddess summoned forth the waters to nourish her children and fashioned the creatures of the land to clothe and sustain them. Thus, the tapestry of existence began to unfurl, intentionally and intricately woven with threads of pure love and Light.
At long last, Amantius produced the first of the human species within the cosmos: the Anu.
In her boundless affection, the Goddess endowed her newfound progeny with the ability to extract her own love and Light from her other offspring, the Celestials.
To wield this Godly gift, the Anu needed only to reach into the essence of a Celestial and declare their noble intentions.
In response, the Celestial would summon Amantius, who would deliberate upon the worthiness of the supplicant and choose whether to grant them her power.
In gratitude for their sacrifice, Amantius, in turn, would reward the Celestial with greater strength than ever before.
Thus, the Anu flourished, becoming powerful and numerous beyond measure.
As many millennia elapsed, their wisdom and knowledge expanded, transforming them into exalted near immortals of extraordinary capability.
With advancements in technology, their lifespans grew tenfold.
The Anu harnessed Amantius’ Light with the purpose of ensuring humanity’s everlasting prosperity.
Yet, as the Anu’s numbers swelled within their birthplace of Caelum—the first and only world they had ever known— they found themselves outgrowing their cherished homeland.
The time had come for their society to stretch its wings and embrace the vastness of the cosmos.
They forged vessels capable of traversing the star-studded skies, and thus began their quest to plant roots anew, colonizing worlds.
Many of the newly discovered planets lay desolate and barren.
Thus, The Anu embarked upon the noble task of transporting the bountiful gifts of Caelum to their newfound lands—gifts of water, animals, verdant vegetation, wondrous technology, and, in some instances, the values and traditions of their very own culture.
In time, the descendants of the Anu came to inhabit an innumerable number of worlds.
A number so impossibly countless that they could no longer track or oversee the myriad societies they had birthed.
Despite this, their seeds continued to flourish, eventually venturing forth to explore and pollinate the cosmos themselves.
Too often did the Anu find themselves upon unknown shores, only to discover that these worlds were already home to races fashioned by Amantius long before the dawn of humanity.
At first, the Anu regarded these colonies with reverence, maintaining a vigilant distance from the inhabitants, honouring the will of the Goddess.
However, eventually the Anu Emperor and his council succumbed to hubris, viewing themselves as superior to all other races.
They ignited wars against the civilizations that refused to yield their sacred homes.
The Anu leaders, in their folly, believed themselves to be the “chosen ones”, the favoured offspring of Amantius, entitled by divine right to all the planets birthed from her will.
Upon learning of the Anu Emperor’s transgressions and declarations of war, Amantius was overcome with profound shame and grief. In her sorrow, she rendered the fateful decree to banish the authoritative few back to Caelum, stripping them of the right to harvest her Light for all eternity.
Enraged and marooned upon Caelum, the stranded found themselves powerless, their once-mighty technology rendered inert without the energy of Amantius’ Light. Space travel became unattainable, and the banished were severed from communication with the infinite universe beyond.
Amantius forbade all other beings from setting foot upon Caelum, lest the Emperor’s corruption of spirit infect her other creations with the same hostility and malice that now consumed them. To tread upon Caelum was to forfeit the divine right to wield Amantius’ Light evermore.
Thus, the traitors linger in eternal exile upon Caelum, separated from the embrace of the universe and all life that flourishes beyond. Their fate remains a mystery, shrouded in the annals of time. Never to be known whether they still draw breath or have become naught but dust.
I abruptly closed the book, slamming it onto the desk before me, and anxiously pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers.
Breathe, I told myself. Just breathe.
The entire backstory of the Anu sounded ludicrous and insane, like the plot of a sci-fi movie I would have avoided. It couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t.
Humans did not originate on Earth. We had been planted there by the Anu or one of their unknown descendants. We had never evolved from apes. We hadn’t begun our development as strange little fish in a pond that one day decided to crawl onto land. We were created just as we are—human.
This changed everything.
Absolutely everything.
If Earthlings were enlightened with this kind of information, all hell would break loose. This knowledge would undermine all—and I mean all—major religions on the planet and could very well lead to the collapse of societies, countries, and empires.
The thought made me feel nauseous. Earth was just one truth away from absolute destruction. Wars would erupt. People would lose faith in everything they had ever believed in, including themselves. Humanity’s faith felt so absolutely feeble now.
Shouldn’t I have felt happy to learn that there was, in fact, a “Goddess” of the universe, a creator?
Indeed, I should have. But instead, I was overwhelmed by a deep sense of dread.
This Goddess could just as easily take away what she gave.
She was an all-powerful and invincible being. The thought was genuinely terrifying.
Jion was startled awake by the sound of the thick textbook banging onto the desk before him.
He had been sitting across from me, relaxing for a while, but had dozed off at some point during my research.
It surprised me that Jion might not be a scholar, especially since he was supposed to be heir to the throne.
Then again, when you were a prince, an heir, many things in life must come easily.
The prince shook his head from side to side before rubbing his eyelids with his fingertips. “Hey, are you alright?” Jion incoherently spewed through a still half-asleep yawn.
“Human beings are everywhere in the universe. Everywhere,” I vocalized, not to Jion, but to myself for that matter, needing to hear it said out loud.
Needing to admit it, make it real. “How could we not have known?” I turned to him, tears brimming in my eyes as the disbelieving and fearful words caught within my chest. “How could we not know that we are not alone?”
Jion paused, deep in thought before speaking, eyes searching for the answers I sought as if they hung in the air between us.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t understand why Earth is unaware of its creation story or why it’s not in communication with other life forms. I wish I did so I could tell you. ”
Without letting him even catch a breath, I interjected, whispering, “It feels as though my entire life has been a lie.” A tear finally rolled down my cheek and splashed onto the creaky wooden plank table.
The prince leaned forward in his chair. His eyebrows creased together as he stated in a low, guttural voice, “It has been. You are not an Earthling. You were raised as one, but you are not one of them. You never have been. Everything you know up until this point in time has been a lie.”
My stomach turned in knots, and I felt my breakfast threatening to come back up. Still, he ignored the dissatisfaction and hurt on my face.
“It has been a lie, Jane,” he said, “but you are not a lie. You are a human being—one with thoughts, with feelings, with an entire life of experiences. You have a past filled with trauma and pain. You are not a lie.”
Another tear rolled down my cheek as he gently lifted my chin to meet his gaze. “I don’t know you very well, Jane. Fate has stubbornly brought us together despite both of our dismay. I’m sure this isn’t the life you envisioned for yourself. It definitely isn’t the life I desired…”
For a split second, I felt a flicker of curiosity about what he meant. Had he expressed his discontent with the king? Had he voiced his feelings of being forced into marriage as well? What had he envisioned for his life?
“But what I can tell you now is that I want to know your truth. All of it,” he continued.
“If we must marry, then I want to understand who you really are, what you feel, what makes you tick.” He grinned, and despite myself, I couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“You are not a lie, Jane. And I will do my absolute best to prove it to you.”
Although every instinct told me not to trust a man I barely knew, I did.