Two days after piecing together the Council of the Ascended narrative, Miriam found herself in a cramped reading room deep in the catacombs beneath Rome's Biblioteca Angelica. Tarek hovered nearby, occasionally shining a penlight over marble alcoves containing manuscripts that had resisted all attempts at digital archiving. The air smelled of old leather and damp stone, and overhead, the vaulted ceiling pressed the silence down like a heavy cloak. Their journey here had not been simple—strings had to be pulled, and backdoor favors called in with ecclesiastical scholars who owed Miriam's mentor a debt. Yet here they were, scanning through medieval codices for any trace of their new revelation.
It was Miriam's idea to come here. The Vatican's official archives remained inaccessible, sealed behind layers of protocol and secrecy. But the Angelica held a few forgotten volumes the Vatican once borrowed and never reclaimed—treatises, marginalia, and obscure concordances that few researchers had reason to look at. She had followed a hunch formed after re-examining the translations: The fragments had mentioned certain emissaries who carried forth the Council's decrees across newly budding human settlements. The texts called these agents "envoys," "messengers," or—here was the kicker—"apostles." That word stood out like a flare in the night.
As Tarek knelt down to examine a musty manuscript box, Miriam compared one delicate page to a series of digital scans on her tablet. The medieval text, a commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, contained coded references that did not fit standard theological interpretations. The scribe, a 13th-century monk named Brother Adelmo, had interwoven tiny symbols into the illuminated capitals. At first glance, they looked like decorative flourishes—tiny stars, serpents, and branching lines. But under her careful lens, Miriam recognized patterns consistent with the alien script from the tablets.
"Look here," she whispered, pointing to the letter "A" starting one passage. Intricate vines formed a spiraling pattern. Zooming in on her tablet's magnification app, it became clear: each 'leaf' was actually a cluster of symbols nearly identical to those found on the tablets. It was as if Brother Adelmo had tried to encode star charts and genetic runes into his religious commentary. Miriam's pulse quickened. This was no accident; it was a hidden correspondence.
Tarek stood and brushed the dust from his knees. "Find something?"
Miriam nodded slowly. "It's as we suspected. These so-called 'apostles'—at least some of them—may have been alien envoys who traveled among early Christian communities. Their mission wasn't just to spread faith; they were seeding knowledge, observing human behavior, perhaps even guiding certain cultural and moral evolutions."
Tarek leaned over her shoulder. His presence was warm, reassuring in this cold, dark place. "So the apostles weren't just disciples of a divine teacher; they might have been operatives of the Council's factions. That would mean the foundational moments of what we call Western spirituality were orchestrated."
She closed her eyes, allowing the enormity to settle. It was as if the tapestry of religious history, which had always seemed to show human prophets reaching for divine truth, was being redrawn to reveal hidden threads of extraterrestrial influence. "They were shaping narratives, Tarek. The question is: to what end?"
Neither had an answer, so they delved deeper into the manuscripts. The quiet hours passed, lit only by their penlights and a single tungsten bulb that flickered now and then. They found cross-references: a 9th-century Greek commentary that paired the travels of the apostles with certain stellar alignments; an Arabic manuscript from Al-Andalus that hinted at 'teachers from beyond' who once walked unnoticed among common folk. Time and again, these documents echoed the same motif—certain disciples were not merely divinely inspired humans but something more.
Rising from the cramped table, Miriam stretched and tried to piece it together. If the Council of the Ascended had diverging factions, then perhaps different groups of 'apostles' advanced different alien agendas. Some may have focused on ethics and compassion, encouraging communities to care for the poor, the sick, and the vulnerable—planting seeds for empathy that the alien overseers deemed essential for humanity's moral development. Others might have curated knowledge, handing down cryptic mathematical truths, agricultural techniques, or healing practices that nudged civilizations towards complexity and cooperation. This mirrored the council's original conflict: one faction believed in gentle guidance, the other in strict control or withdrawal.
But if this was all orchestrated, what about the human figures who recorded these encounters—the real flesh-and-blood apostles known to history? Were they human proxies carefully chosen to receive this guidance and spread it, or did some of them possess alien genetic markers that granted longevity or heightened perception? The texts were murky, and centuries of translation and theological debate had transformed clear messages into riddles.
Tarek approached, holding a fragment of parchment sealed in protective glass. "Miriam, look at these names. They correspond to a later set of 'disciples'—figures considered heretical by established churches. They traveled through Asia Minor and North Africa. According to the margin notes, they 'bore the tongues of angels.' What if 'tongues of angels' was a metaphor for advanced linguistic implants or knowledge implants, something that allowed them to communicate complex ideas across language barriers?"
Miriam blinked in disbelief. "It would explain how the early Christian message spread so rapidly and cohesively across diverse cultures. Maybe these operatives ensured consistency. Historical miracles—healing the blind, raising the dead—could have been demonstrations of advanced medical knowledge or biotechnology hidden under the cloak of faith."
Outside, church bells tolled, their sound muffled by layers of stone. The world above continued in its routines, unaware that down here, in the gloom, two scholars were unraveling the cosmic dimensions of early religious history. The deeper they dug, the more interlaced human spirituality and alien influence appeared.
The next step was clear but daunting: They needed to find physical evidence that might link these apostles-turned-operatives to the Council. Some trace element in their burial sites, a relic infused with off-world materials, or a coded transmission waiting to be decoded in a remote monastery's library. Their discovery in the catacombs proved only the bare outline. To solidify their claims, they would have to follow the trail across borders, languages, and closely guarded religious institutions.
As they packed up, Miriam slipped the digital scans into her secure drive. She took one last look at the manuscript's hidden code. The intricacy of these encoded star maps suggested careful planning. Each apostle's journey mirrored a line on a star chart. Lines converged in places of learning—Alexandria, Antioch, Rome—cities that served as cauldrons of new ideas. The Council's hand was subtle but unmistakable, sowing messages that would outlast their physical presence.
Before ascending the narrow stairs back into the modern city, Miriam paused. "This changes how we view humanity's core story," she said quietly. "If these 'apostles' were really alien envoys, then the birth of entire cultural and ethical frameworks didn't arise spontaneously from human minds. We were guided, step by step, with tools and symbols we were too young to understand."
Tarek nodded solemnly. "And if that's true, then what does it mean for us now? Are we still following their script, or have we broken free of the narrative they tried to write for us?"
They climbed the steps to the surface, each lost in their own thoughts. Above ground, the sun had set, and the streetlights painted the cobblestone alleys in warm, artificial glow. People hurried by, oblivious to ancient secrets stirring beneath their feet. Miriam and Tarek emerged into a world that believed it knew its own history. Little did it know how profoundly that history had been shaped by beings from beyond the stars.
As they stepped into the Roman night, their next moves weighed heavily on their minds. The trail of the Apostles was not a simple path. It would lead them deeper into hidden knowledge, guarded doors, and, perhaps, closer to the heart of a cosmic design that had been shaping humanity since its earliest stories were first whispered around fire-lit circles.