The False Messiah

Seraphis, City of Priests

Land of the Celestial Order

23rd day of Ascensius

Year of Our Lord 5950 A.R.

"In the rector’s hall where lessons ring,

From a book of life will truth soon bring,

Look past the brightest star that glows,

Behind the cross where darkness grows,

A temple built on shifting land,

Hides the throne crushed by His hand."



Rachel started as the towering angel glared at her.

“Good morning, Sister. Papers, please.”

Six and a half feet of iron and plastic, the android loomed over her, its gray, human-like face expressionless. At times she thought it strange how they referred to them as angels. Their presence didn’t evoke divinity but rather temporal memories of distant battlefields. Two more angels angled towards her, impatient. She fumbled through her purse, exhaling in relief as she finally found her ID.

Maximus, the head angel, scanned it. “Cleared. Christ is King, sister.”

“Christ is King, Maximus,” Rachel replied as the rectory doors swung open.

Inside, hymns and chattering filled the air. Cloaked in brown and white, Rachel contrasted against the priests in orange and gold robes. Her father had worked there as a scholar. Priests nodded in recognition as she passed.

Her father’s rhyme echoed in her mind. A lament for condemned heathens? She wasn’t so sure.

The oak-thorn doors to the great Hall of Archives groaned open. Bookshelves lined the stone walls, AI-assisted priests translated ancient texts at busy computer stations. Then the prayer bell rang. The priests filed out, leaving Rachel alone.

A golden crucifix leaned awkwardly against a shelf, half-covered by a black drape. She straightened it and pulled back the cloth, revealing a carving of Bethel at Zion, the first temple.

Behind the cross where darkness grows… A temple built on shifting land. Was this the meaning?

Her fingers traced its ridges.

Click.

The carving popped open, revealing a hidden cavity. Her heart pounded as she reached inside and withdrew a scroll.

At her father’s old desk, she carefully unrolled it.

"I, Marcus, son of Simon Peter, write this truth but fear it may be buried with lies."

Rachel’s breath stopped.

"My father and the disciples saw our Lord crucified and rise again. Yet, on the road, a herald cloaked in light approached them.

‘You follow a false Jesus,’ he declared. ‘He is a demon.’

Doubts festered. At the herald’s urging, they confronted the false Jesus, but he spoke only a few words before vanishing.

On the ninth day, the herald declared himself the true Jesus Christ. He exalted them for their loyalty. Yet before he died, my father’s doubts returned. Did they choose the real Messiah that day, or were they deceived?"

Rachel trembled.

The AI scanner returned the dating results. Over 2,000 years old exactly around the time of the disciples.

If true, everything they believed was a lie.

Hours Later…

That night, Rachel returned home, but peace eluded her.

She sat in the kitchen thinking but she was interrupted when her sister-wife’s frustrations pierced her silence. 

Sarah sighed and frowned. “Why isn’t it working?” she said inspecting the cylindrical holo-projectors in their living room. 

Rachel left the kitchen and joined Sarah to check the holo-projector—no green light. “It’s not connected to The Veil, is the Gateway on?” asked Rachel. 

Sarah sighed and went to power on a sleek black-and-silver device, the Gateway. Symbols glowed as it searched for a signal.

“To connect, recite our Lord’s Prayer,” the system prompted.

Sarah began:

“Our powerful Lord in Radiance who reigns over the heavens and time, 

Hallowed be Your illustrious Name.

Your Kingdom shines, Your will is obeyed,

On Earth as it is across the heavens and time,

Grant us your eternal grace,

Extinguish our doubts, and protect us from heresy,

For yours is the radiant Kingdom, the greatest power, and the greatest glory.

From this age to the final age, everlasting. 

Hosanna, Hosanna, Christ is King!”

“Blessed be, you are now connected to The Veil,” the voice confirmed.

The holo-projectors flickered to life, displaying their Lord and Savior. Clad in golden light and flowing white robes, his black curls and misty brown eyes exuded divine authority. They knelt, heads bowed in reverence.

Rachel quivered on her knees, unable to shake off the dread creeping into her skin.

Next Day…

Rachel moved across St. David’s marketplace, an area replete with relic stalls, holy breads, and the low hum of drones dropping off wares. Angels patrolled quietly, their imposing android forms a perpetual reminder of the Apostolic Conclave’s ever watchful eye.

She turned down an alley, quickly heaving and coughing as frankincense and myrrh filled her lungs.

Clearing her throat and taking a deep breath, Rachel pressed on, navigating the narrow pathways towards a dark blue apartment at the alley’s end. She climbed a short flight of stairs and knocked.

Several minutes passed. Then, the door creaked open, Brother Michael, her father’s old friend, peeked his head out, his eyes darting around suspiciously. Seeing Rachel, his eyes lit up with recognition and dark concern.

“What are you doing here?”

“ I need answers. I found something,” replied Rachel. 

“I can’t help you, child.” He moved to close the door, but Rachel pressed forward.

“I found my father’s scroll.”

Michael’s expression shifted. He seized her by the shoulders and yanked her inside, locking the door behind them.

Rachel stumbled into a room that smelled of old parchment and candle wax. Crucifixes and ancient verses lined the walls.

“Mind your words, girl! Do you want the Conclave to hear?”

Rachel’s heart pounded. “You know about the scroll?”

Michael sighed. “I was there when we found it.”

“What does it mean? The things it claims—”

“You feel different, don’t you?”

Rachel hesitated. “I used to pray with certainty, completeness. Now, I feel... lost.”

“Follow me,” he said.

Michael led her from the entrance towards a couch in the living room, he booted up a holo-projector as Rachel sat. Glowing scripture appeared in the middle of the room in holographic form.

“John 8:3-11,” Rachel read aloud. “Jesus condemns the adulterous woman.”

Michael shook his head. “Not quite. Look again.”

The translation displayed a passage she didn’t recognize.

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."

The crowd left, ashamed. Then Jesus turned to the woman and said, "Neither do I condemn thee: go and sin no more."

Rachel gasped. “No! The punishment for adultery is death!”

“Before, it wasn’t— not until the Conclave changed the scriptures.”

“No! This is blasphemy!” Rachel protested.

A woman stepped forward from behind them. “Then every member of the Conclave should be executed for rewriting scripture.”

Rachel spun toward the voice. A woman in a blue shirt and gray pants met her gaze with reassured detachment.

Michael gestured. “This is Elara. She found the proof.”

Rachel frowned. “What?”

Elara smiled assuredly. “I was a technician for the Conclave. One day, a junior apostle sent me a device to erase. He left part of his access codes stored on the device and unencrypted—careless. I cracked the codes and found hidden manuscripts, dated and authenticated by the church itself.”

Rachel’s mind reeled. “But why would they change the scriptures?”

“To control faith, to justify their rule,” Elara said. “Have you never questioned why our kind, compassionate, merciful son of God, executes women for spurious charges of adultery and orders holy war after holy war. Do you think that truly comes from the scriptures?”

Rachel thought of the recent stonings she had witnessed.

“There’s more,” Elara continued. “Come with me.”

Elara reached a bright orange door and led them down a stairwell into a room illuminated by holographic screens. She plugged a device into a terminal. Hundreds of files appeared under the header: Confidential BioTechnical.

“Let’s find something juicy,” she muttered, searching.

Blueprints filled the air as Rachel’s stomach twisted.

“It’s a healing device.”

Michael frowned. “What?”

Rachel pointed to a familiar black-and-gold orb device. “The Messiah always holds this during healing ceremonies.”

Elara zoomed in. “There—inside the orb. See these?”

There were tiny machines. With measurements too small for the eye to see. 

Rachel’s throat went dry. “It's a machine, all of it is a machine.”

“I thought it was ceremonial. God’s son wouldn’t need a machine to heal people,” said Michael. 

Elara opened another file. Images of a sleek, black and gold vessel appeared, its design unlike anything they knew.

Michael’s voice elevated. “And that’s no plane.”

Rachel read the documents aloud. “Landed in the Holy Land… About two thousand years ago…”

Elara exhaled sharply. “You see... Our Messiah didn’t descend from heaven. He arrived from the stars.”

Rachel whispered, “And we’ve been worshiping him ever since.”

Michael exhaled. “We must expose this.”

Rachel hesitated. “They’ll call it heresy and find ways to undermine this.”

“Then we find undeniable proof, in the catacombs.” replied Elara. 

Later that day Elara found her nephew Azriel at the university. She knew he excelled at machinery. Elara entrusted him with blueprints to the healing device, hoping he could build his own and confirm the church’s deception. 

Days Later…

Rachel tensed as holograms flickered before her. She sat beside her sister-wife Sarah watching historical programming depicting General Maximilian’s victory during the First Heathen War. They watched as the Apostolic Army struck down heathen warriors who sported banners depicting a blood red leaf atop a white background bordered by two red stripes. 

Her grandfather once told her that these heathens were tree worshippers. 

The programming ended as their husband Asher entered the room.

He gestured for Sarah to retire upstairs as he came to sit beside Rachel. Once Sarah left, he spoke. 

“Rachel, is there something going on?”

Her chest tightened. “What do you mean my love?”

“Brother Malachi, my friend from the Conclave keeps asking me about you—your late father, your activities. And then today, he told me a husband must rule his house as Christ rules the heavens and the earth. He implied you’ve been… wayward somehow.”

Rachel’s breath caught. “I swear, husband, nothing is going on.”

“Then why were you with Brother Michael? A defrocked priest?”

“He’s an old friend of my father, Asher. I promised my father I would look in on him, that’s it.” 

Asher said nothing,

“Do you believe me?” 

He only nodded.  

Two Days Later…

7th day of Veritium – Marketplace of Seraphis

Rachel weaved through the bustling market, searching stalls for produce. Holographic prices and mascots flickered around them. Customers walked by clicking and tapping their Lightband devices to quickly compare prices so they could haggle. 

She passed an alleyway and froze. A hooded figure in blue and gold met her gaze—Elara.

Rachel looked around to ensure no one was watching, then she followed Elara into an abandoned warehouse. Inside, Michael sat waiting.

“We need to move,” he said. “It’s time to go into the catacombs.”

Rachel hesitated. “And do what? Tell the world their God is false? Bring violence, rebellion, war!”

“You sought the truth, Rachel, you cannot stop now,” Michael said.

“Maybe I was wrong.” Her voice trembled with fear. “Brother Malachi from the Apostolic Conclave has been watching me. He already questioned my husband.”

Elara turned to Michael. “We must act now—before they put it all together!”

Rachel trembled. “Even if we find proof, people will be shattered. We would be destroying their faith. What right do we have?”

“If the faith is good, then why did you seek the truth?” Michael asked. 

Rachel said nothing.

Elara leaned forward. “We don’t just expose the truth—we broadcast it. My nephew has access to the holo network at his university. It’s connected to The Veil. If we upload the proof, it will spread to every city in the Celestial Order within seconds.”

“The church has firewalls,” Michael warned.

“I can bring them down,” Elara said. “I can upload a virus that will brute force the church firewalls and send our message everywhere.”

Michael turned to Rachel. “Are you with us?”

Rachel’s hands trembled. 

But then she remembered the women she had seen stoned to death by angels. Suddenly, the weighty desire for truth pressed on her chest like an iron brand.

“Let’s do this.” She nodded.

Later That Night…

In the catacombs they passed through walls lined with the bones of long dead saints. Eventually arriving at a rock face with an ancient Greek inscription:

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart… Love your neighbor as yourself."

Rachel stiffened. The official church version demanded obedience—and death for heathens.

A door suddenly swung open, and a junior priest appeared, eyes fixed on his LightBand. Michael launched forward and lunged towards him, shoving the priest against the wall.

Michael struck him until unconscious. Elara seized his LightBand and waved it across the door sensor, the door unlocked.

Inside, dim green lights glowed. Rachel nearly stumbled into a row of computers. Then she saw it.

Sitting on a raised black platform was a massive black and gold vessel.

Moments later the vessel’s metal gears groaned and a hatch slid open. Elara rushed inside, Rachel following.

The ship pulsed and oozed with an unknown fluid. Rachel went to the back of the ship examining the walls and alien technology screens. She found herself in a back room filled with pods. She pressed her hand to one and the cover slid down.

Inside lay an insect-like being—four eyes, clawed hands, and an armored body. The next pod contained another. And another.

Then she turned.

Another row of pods.

Rachel’s breath hitched when one of the pod covers slid open. 

Staring back at her, a body bearing Brother Malachi’s face. Then another pod, and another, all with his face.

She stumbled back, then sprinted toward Elara.

“Elara, come see this!”

Elara was at a console, screens flickering with holograms.

In one of the holograms an alien fleet commanded by the insectoid beings soared toward Earth. Then without warning an asteroid storm obliterated all but one ship. The lone ship hurtled towards Earth and crashed.

Footage changed. The surviving insectoid, using a black orb, healed its wounds.

Rachel whispered, “A god doesn’t need a device to heal.”

More images. The creature transformed—golden light engulfed it. When it faded, the Messiah stood in its place.

Rachel’s stomach twisted.

The church’s Christ… was an impostor.

They had to show the world.

Rachel and Elara recorded what they could on their LightBands. Their efforts stopped short when Michael shouted for them.

They scrambled for cover as angels opened fire. Michael returned fire, but more Angels poured in and formed a shield wall impervious to bullets.

Brother Malachi entered, flanked by the Angel Maximus.

The angels paused as he spoke.

“It pains me to find you here, Rachel,” he sneered. “A woman of faith, now a heretic. Your father would be ashamed.”

“Don’t speak of my father!” Rachel shouted, her voice breaking.

Malachi advanced. “Surrender now and perhaps the Conclave will show mercy.”

“This church is full of lies, I have seen the truth Malachi. We worship a mortal alien being, not the son of God!” 

“Lies! You will pay for this heresy!” Brother Malachi shouted back. 

The angels fired. 

Rachel’s eyes darted to the ground. Water pooled in cracks near the platform. She felt air beneath. A hidden passage.

Elara pried up the floor panel. “Go!”

Bullets whizzed past as Rachel and Elara plunged into darkness. Michael covered their escape—then the panel abruptly slammed shut behind them.

Rachel screamed. “Michael!” She thought he was behind her. 

Elara pulled her forward. “He gave us a chance. Don’t waste it.”

They surfaced near the marketplace, slipping into the crowds as they made their way to the University where Azriel waited. 

The Broadcast

Inside the control room, Rachel stood before the holo-network feeds as Elara bypassed the firewalls.

The truth flashed across The Veil—images of alien bodies, altered scriptures, the false Messiah’s transformation.

“People of the Celestial Order, I come before you to reveal a long-hidden truth. Our king is not the Messiah. This being that we worship is a false god, a mortal alien being from a distant world!” 

Rachel raised the healing device for all to see. She slashed her palm, then waved the orb device across her wound. The wound disappeared. 

“A god does not need a machine to heal, I was able to have this machine fabricated by the hand and mind of a man.”

More images of the alien pods appeared with bodies bearing the face of Brother Malachi. 

The final proof appeared: a letter from Ananias II, revealing the church’s deception.

Rachel’s voice shook. “From the time of Ananias II the church knew, they lied to us. Using soulless, motherless, copies of men to keep us in line! No more. Rise. Demand the truth!”

Elara nodded to Rachel, the truth was out.

Five months later…

Her dress billowed with nature’s breath as a light breeze brushed and caressed her skin. Rachel walked quietly through the grassy plains. Standing behind her was a simple house where Asher tended their son. Tragically, the Conclave found and disappeared her sister Sarah, along with Sarah’s daughter.

Rebellion came to the Celestial Order, commanded by a group called Children of the True Way. The false alien Christ disappeared along with its ship, many saying the alien finally returned to its world. 

She no longer felt the emptiness when she prayed, comforted by the new Bible in her hands, a compendium of scripture no longer corrupted by the False Messiah. 

Rachel fell to her knees in the middle of the field, lowering her head as she whispered a prayer. 

“Speak to me, Lamb of God, Prince of Peace. Show me it was worth it.” 

A gentle warm light wrapped around Rachel, and she felt a calming presence wash over her.

A voice, calm and steady, spoke. 

“Rachel. Rachel. I am here. I was always here.” 

Her breath caught as she lifted her head, this was different, the true Messiah had come. 

The End…