The discovery of atmospheric planets changed everything. Secundus, Myra, Sotasonare, promises of a better life. But there was a peculiar enigma: no one seemed willing to reveal their exact location.
For generations after the Hub's rediscovery, humanity lived with the reality of hyper-scarcity and underground survival. The Hub offered artifacts and mysteries but no escape from the harsh conditions of distant dwarf planets and frozen moons. Then, decades after the early investigations, after Granska, after Erzbet, after countless researchers had mapped the structures and activated dormant towers, the Order made an announcement that changed everything: atmospheric worlds had been found. Secundus, Myra, Sotasonare. Places where you could breathe without a suit, where colonies could expand beyond pressurized tunnels.Â
"New worlds, our future," the propaganda declared. Entire families volunteered for a chance at a different life. Yet something was wrong. No one who asked received coordinates. No one could verify the worlds' locations. Researchers who questioned the secrecy were reassigned. And in the years since the first transports departed, a troubling pattern emerged: those who accepted postings to the "new worlds" never sent messages back. The Commons maintained that communication delays were expected that infrastructure was still developing. But for those who noticed, the silence felt deliberate. The question wasn't whether the new worlds existed, it was what the Order wasn't saying about them.