Sundered Sky: Zirian Chronicles, #1

By Ariele Sieling

Quin Black spends most of his time on the Outer Rim of Ziri, the donut-shaped planet he calls home. His role in the military is to step through Doors, portals leading to locations all over the universe, for a variety of reasons ranging from diplomatic work, to rescue missions, to trade, and more.

But after he is called back home unexpectedly for undisclosed reasons, he is shocked to find out that it has nothing to do with his job. Rather, it's personal: his own father, a highly decorated planetary scientist, has disappeared. And behind him, he's left something strange and potentially deadly: a brand-new type of Door, never before seen. And it seems to somehow be connected to every other Door in existence.

 

Quin's closest friend, a brilliant scientist and mathematician named John, quickly discovers that the existence of this new Door could have disastrous consequences for everyone everywhere. And the fastest way to solve the problem? Find Quin's father.

 

While Quin is happy to work within the system, John has no such compunctions. He leaps through the new Door, and when Quin tries to stop him, he gets dragged along for the ride.

 

Together, they much traverse new worlds, searching far and wide for Quin's father, with the hope of preventing a catastrophe that could end lives and entire civilizations across the universe.

 

This portal fiction novel is the first in the Zirian Chronicles series. Content warnings can be found on the copyright page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ariele Sieling
• Release date: Jan 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215437704

Ariele Sieling

Ariele Sieling is a Pennsylvania-based writer who enjoys books, cats, and trees. Her first love, however, is science fiction and she has three series in the genre: post-apocalyptic monsters in Land of Szornyek; soft science fiction series, The Sagittan Chronicles; and scifi fairytale retellings in Rove City. She has also had numerous short stories published in a variety of anthologies and magazines and is the author of children's books series Rutherford the Unicorn Sheep.She lives with her spouse, enormous Great Pyrenees dog, and two cats.You can find her work on Kobo, Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Apple, GooglePlay, and Payhip. Visit www.arielesieling.com for more information.

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to:

Nancy and Peter Sieling

the most supportive, dedicated, and awesome parents a human could have.

I wouldn’t be here without you

(both literally and figuratively).

Author’s Note

Dear Reader,

This book first appeared as The Wounded World, book 1 in the Sagittan Chronicles series. Since its initial publishing, I have updated the covers and edited the stories, but this time, I’m making a substantial change: I’ve re-named the entire series and each of the books.

Why? seems like a very reasonable question here.

In 2013, when I first began publishing this series, I was a scrappy 24-year-old (almost 25!) who had graduated from college during a recession and spent the first few years of my adult life juggling multiple jobs before getting my first full-time position. I was tired and broke, and I had been spending what little free time I had trying to learn how to write a book.

As part of my ideation process, I used a star map I had from a 1970s edition of National Geographic to choose names for things—people, planets, places. Hence how I settled on the name, Sagitta for the planet the series is primarily set on, and the Sagittan Chronicles for the series title.

It may not surprise you to learn that I knew absolutely nothing about astrology at the time either. In fact, once near that age, I went to a dance, and a man asked me, What’s your sign? (which was apparently a pickup line), and I had no idea what he was talking about, so I responded, A stop sign lol.

So, imagine my surprise when I attended my first book event, and someone asked me, Are you a Sagittarius? I had no idea what they were talking about and thought they were confusing my books with something else. But the same problem came up over and over again, until one day, a woman asked me if my book was a handbook for how to connect with her inner self, and I... I had no idea how to respond. Other than to say no.

As this was my first series, and I had moved my attention onto other things, I considered ignoring it forever. But in 2022, I decided I would rather bring the series as close to my current branding and standards as possible—and here we are.

If you’ve read the series before, please be aware that the stories are largely the same. I did do some revision, fixing some language, cutting some things that bothered me, and tightening the narrative at least a bit. But the story is largely the same.

If you haven’t read the series, I hope you find it at least somewhat entertaining.

All the stories,

Ariele

Prologue

As she watched, the arboreal scene quivered and shook. The towering evergreens blurred and the needle-strewn ground glossed over, as if an opaque white curtain had fallen over everything. The colors and shapes, hard lines and soft, slowly dripped like water droplets flooding across glass—except these water droplets did not reflect the same scene as she looked through them, but a world of gray and yellow, of sand and arid soil.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. The next thing she knew, the forest had completely vanished, and she stood in an encampment in the middle of a desert.

All around her, people shouted and cursed, camels spit, and children laughed and yelled. She gazed in shock at this place, at this nomadic city of sand. She felt different somehow, and more alone than ever before.

The whole encampment seemed to be in a hubbub, with people running toward the center, yelling and calling to one another. As she watched, covers were placed over wagons, tents hastily secured, and livestock herded into frenzied groups.

She swallowed as she gazed around her. She had no idea how to navigate this overwhelming chaos. Who should she speak to? Where should she start?

Without warning, a young man stood before her, a knife in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other.

You must cover your head and come with me, he said. The sandstorm is coming.

Where am I? she asked.

You are in Canaan, and we are the people of Lorall. Please. He tugged at her sleeve. You must come before the sand overtakes us.

She ran with him, past the screaming children, past the irritated camels, and past the many men and women who continued to hastily cover their wagons and put away all foodstuffs, tools, and utensils. Many had finished the tasks and were running in the same direction—toward the big tent at the end of the encampment.

The young man lifted the tent flap and allowed her to duck underneath it before him. Her jaw dropped. Under the animal skin tarp was a cavern—a massive stone structure carved into the mountains of sand around them. It dropped fifteen feet, and gray stone steps led down right into the center. The main part of the room appeared to be built-in seats, and a flat stage occupied the center of the floor, much like a massive in-ground amphitheater. People in colorful clothes talked animatedly all around, and a group of elderly women stood in an intense-looking circle on a platform centered on the stage.

The young man led her down the massive steps, directly to the cluster of elderly women.

Another one has come here, the young man said to the elders.

What is your name, dear? one of them asked.

I am Kate, she replied.

You have come at a poor time, the woman continued. She, like the other women, wore a cloth wrapped around her head, covering her ears and draping under her chin and over her shoulders. We are unable to trade as the storm has forced us to shut down our wares and close our gates.

Kate shook her head, still feeling dazed and confused. But... but I am not here to trade. I am looking for my brother.

All seven elderly women turned to look at her at once, their faces grave.

Your brother, the woman stated. She sighed. The prophets predicted this year would bring much blight. I see it has begun. She turned to face the young man. Gilead, please see to this young woman’s protection until the storm has passed. Then we shall consider this problem.

At once, all seven women turned their circle inwards, with their backs to the crowd, engaging once more in a hushed discussion.

Gilead took Kate’s elbow. We will sit over here, he said, out of the way, until the storm has passed.

I need to find my brother, Kate protested. I don’t know where I am or how I got here, but I am looking for my brother and I can’t stop searching until I find him.

We will help, Gilead reassured her. You are not the first with a missing family. Please be patient. We must wait out this storm.

Taking a deep breath, Kate nodded. I will wait out the storm, but if you can’t help me, I must leave as soon as I can.

The Covey, Gilead said, gesturing to the old women, they can help anyone.

Kate leaned back and considered her situation: in a desert, surrounded by strangers, about to experience a sandstorm, and with no idea where her brother might be. She closed her eyes. If waiting was what she had to do, waiting was what she would do.

Chapter 1

The countryside blazed by, a blur of green, brown, and blue, with speckles of red and orange. Quin idly wished they would install a Door at the outpost where he was stationed, so he didn’t have to take the train back and forth from Pomegranate City, but it was apparently a security risk. From his perspective, though, pretty much any door into anywhere was a security risk on some level—whether it was a regular door, or the scientifically advanced Doors which allowed a person to traverse long distances in a single step. At least it was if you thought about it too much.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and crossed his arms. The woman across from him was giving him the eyes—that expression which said, I’m interested in you and so I’m going to twitch my facial muscles around until you feel so awkward that you say something to me. He ignored her and glanced at his watch. One hour into the trip, several hours to go. It was about time for him to take out his book.

Excuse me, sir, the woman across from him said.

He looked up, annoyed.

I would just like to ask you a question. She leaned forward, adjusting her pale yellow blouse as she did so.

He nodded once. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the question.

Have you ever noticed how perfectly everything aligns? The sun, the moon, our planet—the way we can cross great distances in a single bound, yet become as one to each living thing, even while we simply move one step at a time?

Quin barely refrained from rolling his eyes. This was not a typical come-on; he had a bad feeling about it. Religion died out centuries ago.

I’m not talking about religion, the woman said. I’m talking about hope.

A woman in a green hat stuck her head around the seat and glared at the first woman. It’s not about hope, she interjected. It’s about fear. You people proselytize to everyone you come across, not so that you can give them hope, but so that you can terrify them into giving your organization money to support lazy good-for-nothings who—

That is not true! the woman in yellow cut off green hat lady. The future is uncertain—there is much to be lost and gained. I and my brothers and sisters only want to encourage others to focus on taking control of their future, on not fearing death, and on seeking to love each other.

You’re a liar and a coward, spreading lies and brainwashing our young people into making poor decisions and spending their money unwisely! spat the woman in the green hat.

Quin blinked twice and raised his eyebrows. This was getting unexpectedly heated.

The woman in the green hat stood up, glaring at the yellow-bloused woman.

The yellow-bloused woman continued, You’re close-minded and ignorant, and you only care about maintaining the status quo, not about improving our culture and the welfare of every living thing! As we reach out into the universe and meet other races and other cultures, we need to expand our thinking—

The woman in the green hat simply could not wait any longer. She leaped forward and grabbed the first woman by the throat. The first woman responded by putting her foot in the green-hat’s stomach and pushing her back with all her might. Then a young man from across the aisle then became involved, trying to separate the two, but instead found himself kicked in the knee and stumbling helplessly into an older gentleman who sat quietly reading the paper. The older gentleman swore loudly as Quin stood calmly, towering a head and a half over the tallest of the brawling passengers, picked up the first offender by her shoulders, and carried her into the next car. He deposited the second woman back in her original seat and helped the limping man to the train’s medic.

Quin had never stopped a fight on a train before, but he supposed he just could add it to his portfolio of experience, under Accomplishments. Or perhaps it would make a suitable answer to an interview question. Shortly after Quin had settled back into his own seat, the train’s security arrived. As a regular on the train, Quin knew all the guards personally.

Mr. Black, the security guard, Arthur, stated, nodding politely. Thank you.

You’re welcome, Quin replied.

We’ll need your statement.

I’ll write it down.

The security guard handed him the standard form, and Quin scribbled a few lines before handing it back to the officer.

I’ll just keep my eye on everyone, Quin said, gesturing to the yellow-bloused woman who now sat across from him with a bruise on her cheek and an irate expression.

Much appreciated, sir, replied the security guard, and he scurried off to the next car.

For the rest of the trip, Quin alternated between sitting and pacing casually back and forth, keeping a close eye on the now tense passengers who read their newspapers and chatted quietly. His height, massive build, and black scowl encouraged good behavior among the passengers. The train conductor came through once, nodding politely and murmuring, Mr. Black, in a quiet greeting.

The train arrived in Monapliet Station a few hours later; hundreds of people swarmed the platform. As Quin moved forward, weaving carefully through the crowd, a man to his right threw a punch. Before he knew it, a full-fledged brawl ignited around him, with punching, kicking, and insults. They shouted non-believer and god-hater and it’s our god-given right. After a few moments, Quin stood sweating over several brawlers who lay unconscious or groaning on the ground. The rest had fled or were being tased by the Pomegranate City law enforcement.

It was turning into a rather unusual day, Quin thought.

Officer Jones, said Quin, reaching out to shake hands.

Mr. Black, Officer Jones greeted him. Thanks.

No problem. Quin nodded. Have a nice day.

He left the station and walked toward his house. A newspaper boy yelled, Newspaper! One quarter! Pamphlet! On the house! He threw a coin at the boy, and the boy tossed him a paper. Quin caught it neatly and opened it.

The headlines read LIFE STARS HOLD CONFERENCE AT TRUCE CENTER, YOUNG MAN KILLED IN FOUNTAIN BRAWL, and ADMINISTRATOR ADERICK FROWNS UPON RELIGION. The second and third pages told of the weather, how to safeguard personal residences, and of a missing girl. He flicked the newspaper boy another coin as a tip and strode down the street, stopping only at a vendor stand to pick up some fruit and pre-made sandwiches. He knew that his father’s house was empty of any nourishment.

An hour later he reached the house, a modern construction which showed off the most recent advancements in technology. It sat on a rotating platform, which was programmed to turn different faces of the house depending on the position of the sun. It maximized heat efficiency during the cold months, and minimized heat buildup during the warm months. It also used solar power to fuel its many systems.

Quin stepped into the entry pod, which slid to the nearest door like a horizontal elevator. He wondered when John was going to show up.

He frowned as he entered the house. The kitchen television was on. As far as he knew, his father had been gone for months, so either the television had been on the entire time, or someone had recently been—or was still—here. He looked around cautiously.

Life Star proponents have started their own radio station, the newscaster stated, and have begun broadcasting shows focused on converting others to their belief system. Their efforts include various shows focused on the politics of planet building, how Door legislation should be broadened to allow citizens to build and maintain them for private and commercial purposes, and proselytizing young adults looking for someplace to turn.

Quin padded forward quietly, the content of the news show sliding through the back of his mind. Then he heard a small noise and froze as a much smaller person than him came barreling in from the other room and tackled him. Quin braced himself so that when the collision occurred, he barely moved.

Doggone it, Quin! John, the person responsible for the attack, exclaimed. Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! You’re as solid as a wall! He grabbed his arm overdramatically and collapsed onto the nearest chair. Why is it I can never surprise you? Popping back up from the chair cheerfully, apparently uninjured, he held out his hand. Good to see you!

John, Quin acknowledged. He and John had been friends for over a century, and John was known for staging periodic surprise attacks to test Quin’s reflexes, as he called it.

I’m so glad you’re back! John began. I don’t know if you’ve heard—

Quin headed for the kitchen to put away the groceries, knowing he was in for a full-on story.

—but the Committee has been keeping a huge secret, something to do with your dad. I figured it out one day when I heard Drake and Tom talking. I may have been listening through a heat vent, but that is beside the point. So, I did some digging around—almost got myself caught, too, but not quite—and came to find out it has something to do with Dad’s disappearance!

Disappearance? Quin frowned. It always bugged him a little that John called the man ‘Dad.’ He understood John had basically been part of his family since they were kids, and that Grise was the closest thing John had ever had to a father, but still. The old man was a selfish idiot and a traitor.

Yeah, John replied. He said he went on vacation, but he has been entirely off the grid since he left, and he was supposed to come back three weeks ago.

Ah.

After some digging around the office and listening at doors (and heat vents), I decided maybe it would just be easier to come here to the house to see if I could find anything suspicious. I am your best friend, after all, so I figured if I got caught, it would be fine. You know.

Quin nodded.

You’ll never guess what I found.

What?

John grabbed Quin’s arm and dragged him toward the living room. Quin froze as soon as his feet hit the carpet: directly in the center stood a Door. Not a typical door, the framed wooden or metal kind leading from one room to another. This Door was the type which allowed the user to travel light years with a single step.

Quin knew a lot about these Doors, as a special agent for the military whose job was to travel through them every day. But the Doors he traveled through were located in government facilities, hidden in difficult-to-find locations, or at least secreted away in a family basement. This one sat in the center of his father’s living room.

How did that get here? he asked.

I think your dad made it, John said.

But... Quin’s frown deepened. Why would he make it and then leave it sitting in the middle of the living room for anyone to find? Unless... he wanted it to be found.

"I also think he wanted