We landed not far from the enormous structure.
Its size reminded me of the Great Pyramid of Giza—or at least of the photographs, plans, and measurements I knew from the surface. Standing before it in person, however, I had the impression that it was even more massive.
The base and the great corner supports were made from gigantic blocks of stone, shaped and fitted with a precision that even the most advanced technology on the surface would have struggled to reproduce. Between them stretched immense transparent panels. They looked like crystal, though I had never seen any natural crystal that could have reached such dimensions or such extraordinary purity.
Golden lines ran through the transparent walls like veins inside a living body. At regular intervals, they brightened and faded again, giving the impression that a slow pulse was moving through the entire pyramid.
Stairways and passages had been carved into the massive stone supports, leading to three broad terraces that encircled the structure at different heights. Between them floated platforms with no visible means of support. Figures dressed in colorful robes moved across them; some walked, while others remained motionless and simply allowed the platforms to carry them.
A wide channel of brilliant turquoise water surrounded the entire pyramid. Its surface was almost unnaturally still, yet beneath it, circles of light spread outward at regular intervals.
“Does that channel serve some purpose?” I asked.
“The water carries away excess heat and helps balance part of the energy passing through the pyramid,” Aura explained. “It also separates the structure from its surroundings.”
We left the vehicle on a nearby platform and continued on foot.
The closer we came to the pyramid, the more distinctly I felt a subtle vibration beneath my feet. It was difficult to describe, because the structure did not merely reflect the light around it. It seemed to absorb that light, guide it through its interior, and transform it into something else.
From the summit rose a tall, almost transparent column of radiance that extended upward until it vanished from sight.
“What is that?” I whispered.
“The heart of Ariana,” Aura replied, and I heard both pride and reverence in her voice. “Inside this pyramid, currents rising from deep within the Earth merge with energy that comes to us from beyond your world.”
I looked at her.
“How could light from space pass through the Earth’s crust?”
“It isn’t light in the way you understand light,” she said. “What you see is only one part of it, converted by the crystals into a form the human eye can perceive. The true current passes through matter in a different way.”
I looked again at the faint column rising from the pyramid.
It was barely visible, yet I could feel its rhythm inside my chest.
“You talk about the Earth as though it were alive.”
“Because it is.”
“The planet isn’t an organism, Aura.”
“Not the kind you’re used to operating on,” she replied calmly. “It has no heart made of flesh and no blood flowing through veins. But it receives energy, transforms it, maintains balance, and responds to what happens both on its surface and inside it.”
“And according to you, there’s some enormous living crystal at its center?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“The Earth’s outer core is liquid, but the inner core is solid. It consists mainly of iron and nickel. We know that from seismic waves.”
Aura looked at me with complete calm.
“That part you know correctly.”
Her answer caught me off guard.
“Then where is this crystal?”
“You are able to observe the matter of the core and some of its properties,” she explained. “But when I speak of a living crystal, I don’t mean a transparent stone hidden inside iron. I mean an ordered structure that permeates the solid core and carries its memory. Your instruments can detect its density, pressure, and vibration. What they cannot detect is that the structure also receives and transmits information.”
“You’re saying the Earth’s core has consciousness?”
“Not consciousness like yours or mine. But it senses change, and it responds.”
She pointed toward the column rising from the pyramid.
“Without this network, your world would be far less stable. But even we cannot maintain the balance forever. What is happening above is beginning to disrupt the flow down here as well.”
I wanted to argue with her.
Instead, I remained silent and watched the golden veins glowing inside the transparent walls.
Only a few weeks earlier, I would have dismissed words like these as a mixture of mythology, religious belief, and fantasy. But that had been before I passed through a gate beneath Bosnia, before I saw an inner Sun, and before I stood in a city hidden deep beneath a world whose very shape I had never thought to question.
We crossed a narrow stone bridge over the water channel and approached a tall gateway.
The moment I stepped across the threshold, the crystal pendant beneath my shirt suddenly grew hot.
I stopped.
“What is it?” Aura asked.
“The pendant…”
I never had the chance to finish.
The golden veins within the walls flared with sudden brilliance, and a deep tone resonated through the temple. It was not loud, yet I felt it all the way through my bones.
Aura stepped back in surprise.
“This has never happened before.”
A thin ring of light appeared in the wall ahead of us. It expanded slowly around the edge of the gateway until a passage began to open where, only a moment earlier, there had been nothing.
“Did you open that?” I asked.
“No.”
For the first time since we had arrived in Ariana, I saw genuine uncertainty in her eyes.
“The pyramid reacted to you.”
Beyond the gateway, the air smelled extraordinarily clean, carrying the scent of water and something that reminded me of ozone after a summer storm.
Walls of clear crystal pulsed with living light, while golden lines ran through them like the arteries of some gigantic organism.
“You’re inside the temple now,” Aura warned me. “Not every place you see here is accessible even to our own people.”
“Then why is it accessible to me?”
Her gaze dropped toward the place beneath my shirt where the pendant rested.
“I don’t know yet.”
We entered a vast hall with a transparent floor.
At first, I thought my eyes were deceiving me.
Beneath my feet, another structure extended downward as a perfect mirror image of the pyramid above us. The pyramid did not end at ground level; an inverted section of equal size continued deep below, and the two halves met at their bases to form an enormous octahedron.
A column of light passed through the center of the entire structure.
We descended a spiral staircase that curved around it.
One level below, we entered a space that looked almost like a library.
Thousands of golden books rested on tall shelves made from a dark material that resembled wood but felt as smooth and solid as polished stone.
Aura carefully removed one.
It was not bound like any ordinary book. Instead, it consisted of thin metal plates joined together by a mechanism I could not see.
When she opened it, a faint light moved across the pages and rows of symbols appeared.
For a moment, I forgot to breathe.
“That script…”
I leaned closer.
“I’ve seen it before. It looks like the symbols from Suzy’s golden book.”
Aura nodded.
“It is one of the languages of our ancestors. These repositories preserve part of humanity’s memory.”
I looked along the endless rows of shelves.
“And people on the surface aren’t allowed access to any of this?”
“Some knowledge can heal and help,” Aura replied. “Other knowledge can destroy. Our ancestors hid these records because they knew what those who gained power on the surface might do with them.”
“So you decide what we’re allowed to know?”
Distrust had entered my voice before I could stop it.
“We guard it,” she said. “But you have every right to ask whether, by doing so, we have also contributed to the ignorance of your world. Not everyone among us agrees on that.”
I looked back at the open book.
The symbols glowed exactly like those in the photographs Suzy had brought back from Bosnia.
And suddenly I saw her again in my mind, curled up on the couch, pale, with her hands pressed against her chest.
He knew about the laboratory.
My chest tightened.
Could Suzy and Professor Hall really have died simply because someone wanted every trace of the golden book erased? Could ancient texts contain something dangerous enough to kill for?
Only a short time earlier, the idea would have seemed absurd.
Now I was standing in front of thousands of books made from the same golden metal.
“Is it possible that the book found beneath the Bosnian Pyramid of the Sun was created by your ancestors?”
“If it was written in this script, then very probably.”
“It spoke about war and about people escaping from beings who came from another galaxy. It also mentioned earthquakes, fire, and sudden changes in climate.”
“Yes,” Aura said quietly. “Those things really happened.”
“When?”
“There were several attempts to seize control of Earth. The most destructive open conflict began less than five thousand years ago.”
I stared at her.
“Five thousand years ago? There were already cities, kingdoms, and writing. Egypt, Mesopotamia, and other civilizations left records behind. A war on that scale couldn’t simply vanish from history.”
“It did not vanish completely,” Aura replied. “Some records were destroyed. Others were translated in ways that stripped them of their original meaning. Real beings became gods, technology became miraculous weapons, and war became punishment sent from the heavens.”
“That still doesn’t explain why there are no unmistakable traces.”
“The traces remain. You have simply learned to judge each one separately. Flooded cities, burned layers of soil, sudden migrations, vanished settlements, entire regions that were once fertile and inhabited. Each discovery was given a different local explanation, so no one would think to connect them into a single picture.”
“You’re talking about one global catastrophe?”
“No. That is another mistake,” she said. “The war did not end in one explosion or one flood. It came in waves. After the first attack came other strikes, shifts of water, climatic changes, and the destruction of places where knowledge had begun to gather again. Some of those events were separated by centuries. Others happened much later than your present history allows.”
I thought of structures found beneath the Mediterranean, of once-inhabited regions of North Africa, and of stories about vanished settlements scattered across the enormous spaces of northern Asia.
“And their inhabitants?”
“Some died. Others left and mixed with peoples who survived the catastrophes. Their children knew the past only through stories, and after several generations, real events became legends.”
“There would still have to be written proof.”
“There is,” Aura said, gesturing toward the endless rows of metal books. “But whenever people came close to understanding it correctly, someone intervened. Libraries burned. Texts disappeared. Chronologies changed. Inconvenient discoveries were declared mistakes or hoaxes.”
“You’re saying someone has been systematically rewriting human history for thousands of years?”
“Not one person, and not one organization. Systems changed. Empires rose and fell. But those who controlled them always learned the same lesson: whoever controls the past also defines the limits of what people are willing to believe is possible.”
My reason still resisted.
Manipulation on such a scale seemed almost impossible.
And yet I also knew that an ordinary person understood the past mainly through a handful of books, institutions, and authorities they had chosen—or been taught—to trust.
“And the beings from another galaxy? Did they leave after the war?”
Aura looked at me sadly.
“Not all of them.”
“You mean humans aren’t free?”
“Some are. Others are only allowed to choose between options that someone else prepared for them in advance.”
I wanted to tell her that this was far too simple an explanation for such a complicated world.
Before I could answer, another passage opened on the far side of the archive.
Aura turned sharply.
“He knows we’re here.”
“Who?”
She did not answer.
She simply began walking.
Beyond the passage lay a vast arched chamber.
At its center floated a sphere several meters in diameter. Its surface shifted between deep blue, sandy brown, green, and dark gray, while translucent white clouds moved slowly around it.
At first glance, it appeared to be an exact replica of Earth.
One half lay in light.
The other in darkness.
I recognized continents, oceans, and polar regions.
Beside the model stood an old man.
He had long white hair and a beard, and his pale robe flowed all the way to the floor. His skin was dark and weathered, and wisdom in his eyes seemed inseparable from a profound sadness.
Aura stopped.
“Father…”
The man turned toward her.
For a moment he did not move.
Then he opened his arms.
Aura ran to him and embraced him tightly.
In his presence, something in her changed.
She was no longer the guide who had led me through an impossible world, nor the brave woman who had broken the laws of her own people.
For a few moments, she was simply a daughter again, seeking safety in her father’s arms.
Eventually she stepped away and turned toward me.
“Johann, this is my father, Ambrosius. He is the guardian of the pyramid and one of those who maintain the connections between its nodes.”
Then she looked back at him.
“Father, this is Johann Reichmann, the man from the surface I told you about.”
Ambrosius placed one hand gently on her head.
“I knew you would come,” he said. “I did not know whom you would bring with you.”
Aura took a small step back.
“And because of him, you broke one of our oldest laws.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I couldn’t leave him there.”
“The Council will decide not only his fate, but yours as well.”
“I know.”
She took his hands again.
“Please, Father. Speak for us. Johann is not our enemy.”
Ambrosius turned his attention toward me.
There was no hatred in his gaze, but neither was there unconditional kindness. He watched me with the calm patience of someone who saw no reason to rush toward judgment.
Then he approached and offered me his hand.
The moment our palms touched, warmth spread up my arm.
For an instant, I had the strange sensation that his gaze was descending into my memories.
Images surfaced inside me.
My father.
Suzy.
The operating room.
The people I had helped transform into bodies built for war.
I pulled back instinctively.
Ambrosius released my hand.
“I see pain in you,” he said. “Guilt too, and anger. But so far, I see no intention to harm our world.”
“So you trust me?”
“Intention is not the same as action. Even a person with a good heart can cause destruction.”
He looked at Aura.
“I will give you my vote. I can promise no more than that.”
Aura nodded.
“Thank you, Father.”
Ambrosius turned toward the floating model.
“Come closer, Johann.”
I stepped beside him.
“This is Gaya,” he said. “It is not simply a map, but a living image of the changes taking place across the whole Earth.”
Clouds moved across the model’s surface, together with ocean currents and luminous lines. Some of those lines disappeared beneath continents and emerged again thousands of kilometers away.
“You can observe the entire planet from here?”
“What happens on its surface, beneath it, and in the space around it.”
Ambrosius raised one hand.
The spherical image trembled.
Then the continents slowly shifted, and the model began unfolding into a circular arrangement.
The North Pole appeared at the center.
The familiar continents spread outward from it in a pattern that reminded me immediately of the map on the emblem of the United Nations.
But along the outer edge extended an unbroken white band.
An immense belt of ice.
And beyond it, the landscape continued.
For several seconds, I forgot to breathe.
I could see outlines of unfamiliar landmasses, mountain ranges, bodies of water, and enormous green regions that had never appeared on any map I knew.
“What is this supposed to mean?”
Ambrosius did not answer.
I pointed toward the unknown territories.
“Are these incorrect data? Some reconstruction of the Earth’s past?”
“No.”
“You’re claiming there are other continents beyond the Antarctic ice?”
“You can see them.”
“I can see an image created by your device. That doesn’t mean those lands really exist.”
Ambrosius nodded as though he had expected exactly that answer.
“Correct. You should not believe something merely because I show it to you.”
“Antarctica is monitored by satellites. We have aerial imagery, measurements, navigation systems. Ships have sailed around it. Thousands of scientists have worked there.”
“And how many of them were allowed beyond the boundaries of designated regions?” he asked. “How many saw the original data before those data were processed by systems they neither owned nor controlled?”
“That amount of information couldn’t be hidden.”
“You do not need to hide everything. You only need to give people a model in advance into which every new measurement is expected to fit. Anything that does not fit the model can then be labeled an error, an anomaly, or an instrument malfunction.”
I stared at the great ring of ice surrounding the known world.
“And flights around the Earth? The curvature of the horizon? Gravity?”
“None of those things necessarily has to be false,” Ambrosius replied. “The deception may lie only in the explanation you have been taught to accept as the only possible one.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No,” he agreed. “It is the reason you must search for the answer yourself. If I asked you merely to exchange one blind belief for another, I would not be helping you.”
The model transformed again.
Additional luminous layers appeared beneath the surface, revealing vast cavities, underground seas, and a complex network of glowing points.
One lay beneath Bosnia.
Others appeared beneath Tibet, Easter Island, the Mariana Trench, and deep beneath the southern ice.
“What are those points?” I asked.
“Nodes of the stabilization network.”
“You stabilize the entire Earth with them?”
“We do not control the Earth,” Ambrosius replied. “No one could. These complexes only distribute currents, dampen certain fluctuations, and divert excess energy before it becomes catastrophic.”
He pointed toward the luminous connections running between the individual nodes.
“Some lie beneath structures you know. Others are hidden deep beneath oceans or ice. People on the surface once sensed their influence. That is why sanctuaries, stone circles, and pyramids were built in those places, even long after their original purpose had been forgotten.”
“And who created this network?”
“Our ancestors, with the help of beings who came from other worlds. After the great war, Earth was damaged and its balance disturbed. Without this network, some regions would have become uninhabitable long ago.”
The pendant beneath my shirt grew warm again.
Ambrosius immediately looked toward it.
“Please show me what you are wearing on your chest.”
This time, the request did not surprise me.
I pulled out the crystal pendant and removed it from my neck.
Aura stepped closer.
“I wanted to tell you about this too.”
I handed the pendant to Ambrosius.
The instant he took it, the golden lines inside the crystal illuminated.
The old man’s expression changed.
“Orbium…”
“You know what it is?”
“Yes. And this one belongs to this very pyramid.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Each node has its own resonant signature. This crystal carries the signature of our system.”
“My father gave it to me. He said it was a key—a key to the light, if I remember correctly.”
Ambrosius raised his eyes.
“What was your father’s name?”
I told him.
For several seconds, he remained silent.
His face revealed nothing, and I could not tell whether the name meant something to him.
“Did you know him?”
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Names on the surface change. The imprint of a person remains.”
He held the crystal toward the light.
“We call these keys Orbia. Each Orbium stores the memory, access signature, and calibration data of its node. It is not simply a switch. It carries both instructions and a record of what has happened to the system.”
“And an imprint of the person who uses it,” Aura added.
Ambrosius nodded.
“An Orbium senses the mind of its bearer, their intention, and their inner balance. That is why not everyone can use one.”
“Do you have your own?”
“The ones that remain to us are incomplete. Some were taken during the war. Others were destroyed or lost their connection with their bearers. Without the primary calibration key, we can maintain the network, but we can no longer bring the whole system back into alignment.”
He looked down at the Orbium resting in his palm.
“I haven’t seen this one in a very long time.”
“Do you think it can help you?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Father,” Aura said uneasily, “shouldn’t we wait for the Council’s decision first?”
“I will not activate the system. I will only verify the key through an isolated interface.”
“The pyramid already reacted to it at the entrance.”
“That is precisely why I need to know what it carried here.”
We climbed a steep staircase spiraling around the central column.
The higher we went, the more strongly I could feel its pulse. The light itself was soft, almost transparent, yet its vibration seemed to pass through my entire body.
At last, we reached a circular platform.
At its edge stood a stone console fitted with several crystals and a series of elongated handles. They resembled old mechanical levers, though their dark golden surfaces showed no trace of corrosion.
“Mechanical controls?” I asked in surprise.
“An emergency interface,” Ambrosius explained. “It was designed to function even if other parts of the system failed. These controls are not moved by physical force, however. Until the pyramid accepts both the key and its bearer, they remain locked.”
A narrow recess opened in the center of the console.
It matched the exact shape of my pendant.
“May I?” Ambrosius asked.
I hesitated.
The pendant was the last thing my father had left me.
Then I nodded.
“Yes.”
Ambrosius placed the Orbium into the recess.
A high, pure tone rang through the pyramid.
The golden lines in the walls brightened sharply, and the central column of light widened. Energy rippled through the air around us strongly enough to lift our hair.
A circle of symbols illuminated across the console.
Ambrosius placed both palms on two of the handles.
Nothing happened.
He closed his eyes and repeated a sequence of slow touches.
Still, the handles remained motionless.
“It rejects me,” he said at last.
“Because the key is damaged?”
“No. The Orbium is active, but it is not linked to me.”
He turned toward me.
“It is waiting for its bearer.”
Aura immediately stepped between me and the console.
“No. Johann doesn’t know what he’s doing yet.”
“He will not be controlling the system,” Ambrosius assured her. “This interface is isolated from the primary flow.”
“I brought him here because I trusted him, not so that after only a few days he could touch the heart of Ariana.”
“Aura,” I said quietly, “if it’s dangerous, I won’t do it.”
She looked at the Orbium and then at her father.
“I’m afraid that if something goes wrong, it won’t simply be a mistake. This place is sacred to us.”
“I understand.”
Ambrosius approached the console and touched one of the smaller crystals.
The column of light weakened.
“The active connection is closed,” he said. “The Orbium can transfer only its record. Nothing more.”
Aura reluctantly stepped aside, though she remained close to me.
“Be careful, Johann.”
I placed my hands on the handles.
At first, I felt nothing.
Then warmth flowed through my palms.
And suddenly, an image of my father appeared in my mind.
He stood with his back to me, facing a blinding light.
I wanted to call out to him, but no sound would come.
Beneath my hands, the handles began to move by themselves.
There was no resistance.
It felt as though it were not metal shifting beneath my palms, but space itself.
The column of light flared.
In the air before us appeared the floating model of Gaya we had seen in the lower chamber.
The familiar continents, the great ring of ice, and the unknown lands beyond it were now covered by a web of luminous connections. Some of the nodes shone brightly. Others flickered weakly.
Seven were completely dark.
Around three more spread a greenish glow, disturbingly similar to the light I had seen in the eyes of the beings that had pursued us near the portal.
Ambrosius went pale.
“That is not a calibration key,” he whispered.
“Then what is it?”
“A record of the network’s last state.”
He pointed toward the locations pulsing with green light.
“These nodes are not damaged. Someone has taken control of them.”
Aura grabbed my forearm.
“The Archons?”
Ambrosius did not answer.
With a sudden movement, he pulled the Orbium from the recess.
The luminous image vanished, and the handles returned to their original position.
A deep vibration passed through the temple.
Then everything became still.
“Why did you stop it?” I asked.
“Because the key showed more than the network.”
Ambrosius looked directly into my eyes.
“For a moment, it tried to establish a connection with the place from which this record was created.”
“And where was that?”
He closed his hand around the Orbium.
“Beyond the ice wall.”
Silence followed.
“How did my father get something like this?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you have an idea.”
Ambrosius turned his gaze toward the column of light.
“Your father did not give you only a key to the light, Johann. He also gave you a path to a place that was meant to remain forgotten.”
He handed the pendant back to me.
It was still warm when I took it.
“Can I activate the system again?” I asked.
“Perhaps.”
“Then I’ll help you.”
“You still don’t understand what you’re offering.”
“I understand that something threatens both your world and ours.”
Ambrosius shook his head.
“The pendant alone will not save us. My strength is fading, and some of the nodes are already under someone else’s control. If we reconnect them incorrectly, we may open a path for the enemy directly into this place.”
He looked at Aura.
“For now, tell no one what we saw today. Before we use the Orbium again, the Council must decide.”
“And Johann?” she asked.
“We can no longer simply send him back. The pyramid accepted him, and the network responded to his touch. Whether we like it or not, he has become part of what is coming.”
Aura embraced her father.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find a solution.”
Ambrosius stroked her hair, but his eyes remained fixed on the slowly fading column of light.
“This time, it may not be enough merely to protect the balance,” he said quietly. “We may have to fight for it.”
I stood beside them with the Orbium clenched in my hand.
For years, I had believed the pendant was nothing more than the last keepsake my father had left me. Now I knew that it contained a path beyond the boundaries of the world I had always considered complete.
And perhaps, somewhere along that path, there was also an answer to the question of who my father had truly been.
Aura was still holding Ambrosius.
As I watched them, another thought rose quietly inside me.
I wished she would hold me that way too.