NOVEL NEXT Chapter 52: Valyra
Kayvaan's mind reeled as fragments of forgotten memories clawed their way to the surface. Valyra. The name felt like a distant echo from a life he'd long since buried. She had once been his kin—a sister from a world long gone. "What happened to you?" His voice cracked with disbelief, tinged with desperation.
Valyra's mechanical face softened—at least, as much as it could. "It's a long story, brother. But we have all the time in the world now. Do you remember what you said to me before you left?"
"I…" Kayvaan faltered, his mind blank. Ten millennia of war and hardship had erased so much. His childhood memories were shadows at best, buried beneath layers of bloodshed and loss.
"Have you forgotten? It's no surprise if you have—it's been nine thousand years, after all. But I remember it clearly." Valyra's voice carried both warmth and bitterness. "They say when people grow old, they live in their memories. Maybe that's true. But there are some things I can't forget, no matter how much I want to.
"That day, you prepared to leave. I was the one who caught you. I stood at the door and wouldn't let you pass. You smiled, ruffled my hair, and said, 'I'll come back for you. The house is yours until then.'" Her voice faltered before continuing. "I can still feel that warmth on my head, like it just happened yesterday. You told me to wait for you—that's what you said."
Kayvaan felt a strange, heavy pang in his chest as he listened. His mind painted an image of the past—a little girl, small and fragile, standing barefoot under a pale, indifferent sky. Her thin clothes did nothing against the chill, but she stayed outside, stubborn, her tiny hand gripping the edge of his sleeve. "Can't you just stay?" her small voice asked.
The young man looked to the stars, his gaze distant, filled with a longing for something far beyond their small home. He shook his head. "I can't."
"I don't want you to go, big brother."
"I'm not leaving forever," he assured her, crouching to meet her tearful eyes. "I'll come back, I promise. But until then, the house is yours to watch over. Can you do that for me?"
The girl hesitated, sniffling before nodding. "I'll protect it until you come back, big brother."
"Then it's a promise," he said, holding out his fist.
The little girl lifted her own and tapped it against his. "It's a promise."
Kayvaan blinked back to the present, his eyes resting on the mechanical face before him. Guilt twisted uncomfortably in his chest. But it wasn't his guilt to bear, was it? He hadn't been the one who left his little sister to fend for herself for nine thousand years. Yet a voice within whispered otherwise 'You carry his name, his body, and his honor. That means his debts are yours as well.'
Kayvaan took a deep breath, the weight of the name pressing on his shoulders. After a long pause, he exhaled heavily, his resolve clear. "I've fought in countless wars, faced horrors and death for causes greater than I understood. But those are excuses. I forgot the promise I made. I broke my word." He looked up, meeting Valyra's glowing eyes. "I'm sorry."
"It doesn't matter," Valyra replied, her voice free of resentment. Her metallic eyelids lowered briefly, a faint shimmer passing through them. "You came back. That's all that matters."
The tenderness in her words struck something deep within Kayvaan, and for a moment, he nearly let his emotions overtake him. He forced a faint, rueful smile. "How have you managed all this time?" he asked quietly.
"What choice did I have?" Valyra's tone was soft, almost fragile. "After you left, the family faced... challenges. I took over, but it wasn't enough. Later, I found I couldn't have children. Without an heir, the family's purpose was at risk. Adoption wasn't an option. So I turned to other means to ensure we endured." Her voice faltered, then steadied. "At first, I clung to hope you'd return soon. But as years turned to centuries, hope became anger. Then exhaustion."
"Why push yourself so far?" Kayvaan asked, his gaze shifting to the enormous machine that encased her. "The family name... it's just a name. It's not worth this."
"You don't understand," Valyra said firmly. "You left when you were still young. You never learned what we are. If we were just another noble house, yes, it wouldn't matter if we vanished. Even suns fade. But our family is different, Kayvaan. We are guardians. We safeguard the flame."
"The flame?" Kayvaan frowned. "What flame?"
"The flame of humanity," Valyra said solemnly. "It's the STC."
Kayvaan's brow furrowed. "STC? You mean a Standard Template Construct?"
"Yes," she replied. "But not the fragments and corrupted blueprints the Mechanicus covets. What we have is something... else."
Kayvaan's breath caught. "How else?"
"It's complete," Valyra said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Pristine. Untouched, as if the Dark Age never ended."
Kayvaan felt his heart sink. If what she claimed was true, then the Kayvaan family hadn't been guarding treasure—they were hiding a relic of unthinkable power. A relic that could change or doom the Imperium forever. "But even the Mechanicus doesn't see STCs as threats to humanity's survival," he said cautiously.
"They've never seen one as perfect as this," Valyra replied, her voice grave. "Listen to me, Kayvaan. This isn't just an heirloom. It's a secret that could reshape the galaxy. If it fell into the wrong hands, it wouldn't just be us—it would end the Imperium as we know it."
In the Golden Age of Mankind, humanity reached heights of technological and cultural prowess that bordered on the miraculous. They mastered interstellar travel, navigating the treacherous dimensions of the warp, and began colonizing the vast expanse of the galaxy. But for the brave colonists stepping onto unfamiliar planets, the universe was not only full of awe-inspiring wonders but also unprecedented dangers.
On these new worlds, the comforts of Terra were a distant dream. Colonists couldn't simply rely on supplies from their homeworld—they had to fend for themselves. Imagine needing something as simple as a container to hold water. It would need to be functional, durable, and ideally, aesthetically pleasing. On Terra, such a thing could be picked up for mere pennies. But on a newly established colony, shipping a batch of fragile ceramics across the stars was out of the question.
This posed a pressing challenge: how would colonists make what they needed? Take ceramics as an example. Firing clay into usable shapes is an ancient craft, but by the Golden Age, it had become a niche skill. People were fluent in multiple languages, capable of repairing advanced tools, and deeply knowledgeable about space travel or human biology. But how many could say they knew how to make a simple ceramic cup? Even on 21st-century Terra, very few people—apart from specialists—would have that knowledge. Division of labor had long since rendered such skills unnecessary in daily life.
And ceramics were just the beginning. What about cutting wood for construction? Logging is a hazardous job that even trained workers handle with caution. How about fishing? Building houses? Producing cement? Every step of life's basic necessities required skills most colonists simply didn't have. On Terra, these items were commodities taken for granted. On alien worlds, they were treasures. The only viable solution was to produce these goods locally—but how?