Chronicles of Hidden Truths

By Carlos Segui

The Prophecy of the Black Sun
The Secret Atahualpa Never Revealed

What if Atahualpa knew the end was coming before the conquistadors ever arrived? What if he left behind a warning that still hasn't been fully understood?

On the brink of the Conquest, the great Inca emperor Atahualpa receives a terrifying vision from the god Inti: a total eclipse heralds the arrival of the "white man" and a cycle of darkness that will change the world forever. From his prison cell, the Sapa Inca secretly weaves a prophetic quipu, marked with symbols no Spaniard can decode… until centuries later, when the thread resurfaces in a cursed monastery in Castile, leaving behind a trail of death, madness, and blood-soaked visions.

Now, a rebellious young monk and a modern-day researcher will follow the path of the cursed quipu deep into the Andes, where a forgotten city holds the key to stopping a new eclipse—or being consumed by it.

A historical thriller with mystical undertones, a conspiracy spanning centuries, and a warning woven into time:
"If the white man touches the sun again… darkness will return."

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The Vineyard of Destiny
Where love ferments... and secrets never rest

After years of success in the world of wine, Clara Echeverri—a renowned sommelier in New York—returns to her childhood vineyard in Mendoza following the sudden and mysterious death of her grandfather. What begins as a journey of grief and nostalgia soon spirals into a nightmare, fermented in ancient secrets, forgotten rituals, and a wine as exquisite… as it is cursed.

Beneath the vineyard's fertile soil, a black vine grows without sun or water, nourished by generations of silent pacts. A hidden crypt, a forbidden journal, and a name that should never be there—hers—written on a bottle sealed over two centuries ago.

As past and present intertwine, Clara must confront her family's dark legacy and make an impossible choice: fulfill the pact or break it… even if that means offering her own blood to the land.

A tale of romance, mystery, and slow-ripening terror among the grapes.

What if what we drink doesn't just change us… but claims us?

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The Orion Cube
Picasso's Secret Journal and the Geometry of the Impossible

What if Cubism wasn't an artistic invention… but an alien warning?

Spain, 1923. During an excavation in the arid Monegros, a young Pablo Picasso discovers a mysterious metallic cube covered in symbols that defy all logic. From that moment on, his perception of space, time, and art begins to fracture. What starts as an obsession becomes a revelation: Cubism isn't a style—it's a language.

Guided by strange dreams and geometric visions, Picasso is drawn into a hidden world of forbidden manuscripts, secret societies, and entities watching from the shadows. With the help of a brilliant Hungarian cryptographer, he uncovers that the cube is an artifact brought by beings from the Orion Belt… and that his work has unknowingly been the prelude to the Awakening.

But all knowledge comes at a price.
And what the cube reveals cannot be unseen.

"The Orion Cube" is a historical horror novel of cursed art and cosmic conspiracy, where truth hides among brushstrokes, impossible symbols, and fragments of alternate realities.
A haunting tale that will forever change the way you see art…
and the universe.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Carlos Segui
• Release date: Apr 20, 2025
• ISBN: 9798230858089

Book preview

Chronicles of Hidden Truths

The Prophecy of the Black Sun

The Secret Atahualpa Never Revealed

The Vineyard of Destiny

Where love ferments... and secrets never rest

The Orion Cube

Picasso’s Secret Journal and the Geometry of the Impossible

(c) Carlos Segui

The Prophecy of the Black Sun

The Secret Atahualpa Never Revealed

The air in Cajamarca was pure and cold, as if the gods themselves had cleansed it after the civil war. The city hung suspended between the Andes and the sky, and Atahualpa, seated on his polished golden throne, gazed out at the horizon with the undeniable certainty of a victor. Huáscar, his half-brother, lay imprisoned far away, and the vast Tahuantinsuyo Empire now bowed before a single sun—his.

The wise men, the nobles, and the quipu-makers bowed reverently as he passed. Gold flowed like rivers from the edges of Cusco to Cajamarca, and the once-divided tribes now wove songs in his honor. The Sapa Inca, the Son of the Sun, had restored balance… or so he believed.

But that night, an ancient unease took hold of him. Without any clear reason, he felt the call of the ancients. He left the palace without escort, wrapped in his ceremonial cloak of vicuña and black feathers, and made his way to the temple of Inti, the sun god, whose presence burned within a consecrated black stone. No one dared stop him. No one should interrupt the emperor when the spiritual world called.

Inside the temple, the torches flickered as if sensing an uninvited presence. Atahualpa knelt before the solar stone, placed both hands on its surface, and closed his eyes. He whispered prayers in the tongue of his ancestors, seeking communion with Inti.

Then it happened.

A sudden darkness fell over Cajamarca. It was not the usual night—it was a black tide that swallowed even the birdsong. The priests began to scream. Outside, people fell to their knees in terror. The animals hid. The llamas cried out with wails that sounded human.

Atahualpa opened his eyes. The sacred stone had gone cold. Inti—his father, his protector—had vanished from the sky.

Looking up through the stone circle in the open temple roof, he saw the sun being devoured by a perfect, round shadow. The eclipse covered everything. Light bent, and time seemed to stop existing.

In that moment, he collapsed to the ground, trembling. It wasn’t just his body—it was his soul vibrating with an incomprehensible force. A vision overtook him.

He saw the ocean, vaster than he had ever imagined. And from the sea emerged a creature with pale skin, hollow eyes, and metal garments that gleamed like gold. It walked upon the water like a fallen god. In its hand, it held a banner with a cross. As it touched the land of Tahuantinsuyo, the sky tore open. Temples burned. Quipus were severed. The language vanished. Inti wept blood.

The creature extended its arm and touched Atahualpa on the forehead. —If the white man touches you… said an ancient voice, echoing from the heart of the eclipse, ...the world you know will break.

He woke up drenched in sweat. His body burned as if Inti had abandoned him. Fever consumed him, yet his mind was clear as Lake Titicaca. He had to record what he had seen. He had to warn the children of the sun.

He summoned his most loyal quipu weaver, a blind elder named Amaru, and asked him to teach him the secret knots—the ones the ancient sages used to record what was forbidden. Atahualpa spent the rest of the night awake, weaving with trembling hands a quipu unlike any the empire had ever known: it recorded no tributes, no victories. It was a warning.

Spiral knots, colors outside the canon, sequences never seen before. A coded message for those who could understand the language of the eclipsed sun.

When the first ray of light touched Cajamarca, still faint after the bite of the shadow, a scream tore through the silence.

—Sapa Inca! Sapa Inca!

A young messenger burst into the temple, breathless, stained with mud and blood.

—Lord of the Four Suyos! he cried. They’ve arrived! The men of metal have landed! They ride animals with claws on their feet and fire in their hands! They’re coming this way!

Atahualpa stood tall, still sweating, the quipu