RING! RING! RING!

  My alarm blared, signaling the start of another monotonous day. At least it was Friday, one more day of school, then summer break. What a relief. School had become a never-ending cycle, repeating week after week like clockwork.

  I groaned, rolling over to smack the alarm off. The piercing noise was unbearable, especially first thing in the morning. Waking up early was bad enough; did it have to be this loud? Soon, I'd be able to sleep in as late as I wanted. Just one more day.

  Silence returned, and I let out a satisfied sigh before dragging myself out of bed. My morning routine was practically muscle memory at this point. I shuffled to the bathroom, blinking blearily at my reflection. My blue eyes stared back at me, dulled by the usual tedium of existence. My blonde hair was a tangled mess-no surprise there, given how late I'd been up worrying about why my friends hadn’t answered my messages about the weekend.

  I was tall for my age-at least, taller than most humans-and thin despite eating like a vacuum. High metabolism, I guessed.

  Life in the underground Chaldian city of Zandora felt suffocating. Not only was I surrounded by walls, but there was an entire mountain above us, sealing us off from the surface. The cold wasteland above was supposedly uninhabitable now, though I’d started sneaking out a month ago to see for myself.

  The weather had been getting stranger over the past year. Instead of warming up in spring, it kept getting colder and colder. Eventually, it became impossible to survive for long up there. My mom and I were lucky to get a home in all the chaos, thanks to a family friend, Hank, who found us a place in a quiet neighborhood.

  After getting dressed, I headed downstairs, where my mom was already waiting, just like always. She had the same blonde hair and blue eyes as me, though I’d already surpassed her in height at fifteen. Her demeanor was calm, a contrast to my restless energy.

  “Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep well?” she asked, as she did every morning.

  “I did. Thanks for asking.” I hesitated before adding, “I think I’ll stop by the temple before school. It helps me clear my head.”

  My mom sighed, her tone sharper than usual. “I still don’t understand your obsession with the Altar. They’re so far away from here, they’ve probably forgotten we exist.”

  “They have to know something’s wrong,” I reasoned. “There has to be a reason we stopped contacting them.”

  Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Maybe we’re better off without them. They bring nothing but trouble. I hear they break their own rules all the time. Hypocrites, the lot of them.”

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  I frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned to the sink and muttered, “Experience.”

  A heavy silence settled over us as I ate my breakfast. I’d always wondered why we left Odessa for Chaldia, but Mom never gave me a straight answer. This was just another reminder that there was more to our past than she was willing to share.

  After finishing my food, I stood up. “I’m heading out. Have a good day, Mom.”

  She looked at me, something unreadable in her eyes, then nodded. “You too.”

  I stepped outside, taking in the spectacle of Zandora. The city buzzed with activity. Skyscrapers reached for a ceiling instead of a sky, and tubes crisscrossed the air, transporting people from place to place in sleek, enclosed pathways. The wealthy humans lived here, in a district carved from gleaming white marble, where flying cars zoomed overhead.

  My school bus was a few stops away, but I had time to stop by the temple if I hurried. Pulling a small capsule from my pocket, I pressed a button, and with a soft poof, my speeder materialized in a cloud of smoke. It was sleek, long, and painted green—my favorite color. A gift from Hank, who had also shown me the way to the Temple of Ned Heraculian. Still, something about him always seemed... off.

  I took off, weaving through pedestrians on the designated speeder lane. As I neared the temple, the streets grew dimmer and emptier. The entrance to the ravine was narrow, so I slowed down to cross the bridge leading inside. The temple was one of the first structures the Chaldians brought underground when they abandoned the surface.

  A familiar guard stood at the entrance.

  “Boy, don’t you have somewhere to be?” he grumbled.

  Chaldians were a mollusk-like race, their soft, octopus-like skin varying in shades. The guard’s was blue, and his face was dominated by a single large black eye. His tentacle-like fingers twitched as he spoke, his four mandibles clicking in irritation.

  “Not yet,” I replied casually, stepping past him.

  Inside, the temple gleamed with gold. At the center stood a towering statue of Ned Heraculian, a figure from 2,000 years ago. He was depicted as a tall, bearded man, raising his right arm as if leading troops into battle.

  The stand beside the statue recounted his story. Ned had been a powerful leader of asteroid colonies before leading a rebellion against an Earth dictator. Victorious, he became king and established the Heraculian Kingdom.

  I kneeled in a pew, whispering my usual prayers. Get me off this frozen planet. Give me purpose. And seriously, why do people blast music so loud in their cars? The usual stuff.

  But today, I added something new, something I had never dared to say aloud before. “I want to be a member of the Altar.”

  A familiar warmth filled the temple, stronger than usual. The golden light intensified, blurring the edges of the room. A strange sensation washed over me, like something-someone-was listening.

  Then, the statue blinked.

  I froze, my breath hitching. The massive figure shifted, its stone limbs creaking as it moved. My heart pounded as it turned its head toward me, its once-lifeless eyes locking onto mine.

  I stumbled back, tripping over the pew. The world around me darkened, except for the glowing statue. It struggled to open its stone mouth, as if speaking required great effort. Finally, it managed a rasping cough, adjusting its stiff jaw before uttering words that sent a chill down my spine:

  “Blood of my blood, son of my sons, take heed this warning. Beware of Saar and the Night of Long Knives.”