It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie

Diego’s feet tangled and he crashed to the station’s deck, scraping his palms raw. Evacuees shoved past in blind panic, desperate to escape the extra-dimensional horror that had shuddered in from beyond time and space. His mother stepped forward to shield him, arms spread wide, her voice cracking as she shouted, “Run!”

Unbearable light flooded the corridor in oscillating colors that held no meaning. Colors that didn’t belong in the world Diego knew. His stomach twisted and churned. The space station’s walls, the floor—his mother’s silhouette—all flared and faded in sickening waves that bent the edges of reality. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright on wobbly legs.

“Come on, Maria!” his father yelled, grabbing her arm.

But it was too late.

Pins of searing light lanced from the Kraal, striking his parents. Their bodies dissolved into pulsating, orange matter, the edges blackening and curling into vaporous ash. The air carried the last remnants away, leaving only their clothes in a lifeless pile on the ground.

Diego couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His mind screamed at him to move. To run. But his body remained frozen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t comprehend the Kraal’s shape. Its shifting form and tendrils of light stretching from every corner defied all reason.

His heart beat once. Deafening. And then the Kraal’s mind seared into his skull. He doubled over, retching, and his legs gave out. The world tilted, and he collapsed into darkness.

***

Diego came to with a jolt. Blaring alarms cut through the fog in his mind. Red emergency lights pulsed overhead, sending flashes of color across the corridor.

He coughed and spat, wiping his mouth, bile burning his throat. Pushing up on shaky arms, he avoided the mess he’d made and staggered to his feet.

The Kraal was gone, the hallway empty. His parents’ clothes lingered in piles where they’d last stood.

The deck shuddered, sending him stumbling into the wall. A distant roar from an explosion somewhere deep in Charlie Ring rattled Serenity Orbital’s structure.

Diego ran, legs unsteady, his breath ragged. A primal instinct to survive drove him toward the crowded Serenity Link Transit station. There, bodies crushed in from all sides, everyone shoving and clawing for space as they waited for the next Pod to arrive. The Link system was their lifeline—an elevator-like transport capable of moving in any direction through the station’s five rings, from Alpha to Echo.

Diego pushed through the crowd, knowing he’d be left behind if he didn’t. The deck jolted, drawing a scatter of screams from the packed transit station. A chime played, followed by a robotic voice crackling over the public address system. “Please allow passengers to exit the Pod before boarding.”

Doors opened, and Diego moved with the surging throng. His smaller frame helped him when everyone pressed into the cramped Link Pod. Ducking under an outstretched arm, he squeezed through the narrow gap and stumbled inside, only moments before the door hissed shut.

It was crammed beyond capacity, holding twice, perhaps three times the number it was designed for. The air hung thick with fear and the sour tang of sweat. People gasped to catch their breath and quietly muttered to each other. In contrast to the chaos and horrors they had barely escaped, The Ink Spots’ tune “It’s A Sin To Tell A Lie” played softly overhead.

Diego rubbed his scraped palms as he scanned the faces around him. His stomach lurched—not from the Pod’s motion but from the familiar face glaring at him through the crowd.

Raphael.

Of all people, it had to be Raphael.

Their eyes locked, and Rafe’s expression twisted into a scowl of open contempt. Leaning toward his parents, Raphael muttered something, and both adults turned his way.

Diego’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard, hands curling into fists. Glancing around, he hoped for an ally but only saw eyes narrowing in recognition. Low whispers rippled through the Pod filled with sharp words: “Is that him?” “He did it.”

The passengers shifted—subtly but deliberately—until a small bubble of space formed around him. Maybe just an inch or two, but it was there. In a habitual gesture he’d developed to hide his disfigured face, Diego tugged his hair forward and stared at the floor. His heart pounded. A cold knot tightened in his chest.

Accusations had shadowed him for all of his thirteen years. Claims that he was a growler—one of the twisted, mutated abominations born from the void storms. The walking dead that had once been human. Everyone believed he was some kind of void terror, capable of speaking with the growlers. Others whispered that he was something far darker, claiming he could commune with the eldritch Kraal.

But Diego’s scars weren’t from any void storm. He was born with the mottled patterns twisting across his face and arm. Worse yet, his left eye was entirely black and held sparks of purple with an unsettling violet shimmer that only deepened their fear.

His parents had always denied the accusations, but the rumors weren’t entirely without merit. Diego had a gift, one his mother called tu sentido dotado. By stretching his senses, he could detect the void terrors lurking nearby and even nudge them away. He could also use that same gift to vanish from their awareness—they didn’t even register he was there. His father had found this fascinating and dubbed it “masking.”

Over time, Diego refined this technique and even figured out how to extend it to others. Despite being shunned, he’d secretly been their guardian, keeping the void terrors on the space station at bay whenever he could.

But he couldn’t stop this last Kraal attack.

The Kraal first appeared nearly twenty years ago, emerging from beyond the universe in an event known as the Arrival. Their coming shattered intergalactic society, leaving only scattered survivors clinging to life across the ruined worlds—including those aboard Serenity Orbital-1. Once a bustling transit hub above Arcadia, Serenity had remained free of the Kraal for decades… until now.

The Link Pod moved through the troubled space station, heading toward Bravo Ring.

Diego gritted his teeth, trying to still the tremble in his chin as images of what just happened burned through his mind.

His mom. His Dad. Standing there one moment. And then… and then… No—he couldn’t even think about it.

A numbing wail tightened in his chest. The loss crushed in on him with the pressure of a collapsing star. His heart thudded slow and heavy, every beat an aching toll as he struggled to face what had just happened.

They were gone.

And he couldn’t stop it.

He fought to keep the hot tears from falling as his throat tightened.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Diego squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to shift his thoughts. His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of Donna’s scarf. He had spent the entire morning clutching it, his emotions tumbling in free fall as he rehearsed the words he’d wanted to say to her until he’d finally mustered the courage.

But his resolve had shattered the moment he saw her in the plaza with her friends. He had lingered to the side, clenching the scarf, suddenly unable to approach her in front of everyone else. Shame and self-loathing had twisted in his chest, sending a storm of emotions surging through him.

It was one thing for Donna to be friendly to a freak like him when they were alone, but in public? And to be sweet with him? What was he even thinking?

The Pod lurched, its doors hissing open. A wall of noise crashed over them. The transit terminal outside churned as survivors flooded in from Pod after Pod.

Bravo Ring.

His parents had often voiced concerns about the zealous religious group controlling this ring of the station. They didn’t trust La Familia’s prophet and leader. Diego could still hear his father’s voice, thick with conviction: “Beware of a man who promises salvation yet demands everything for himself. Carlos twists the words of the good book, using people’s faith against them, erasing who they are until they believe his way is the only way. Anyone who questions him disappears. That’s not a prophet, Diego. That’s a tyrant.”

The warning faded beneath the chaos pressing in around him—cries for lost loved ones, the shriek of a child, and barked orders from Carlos’s flock as they scrambled to impose order over the evacuees.

Much like on Charlie Ring, traces of Serenity’s old Art Deco grandeur remained. Decorative columns adorned with boxy patterns were even the same—perfect for handholds. He’d once climbed them on Charlie Ring, earning him a stern reprimand from a patrol bot.

Here, though, La Familia had left its mark. Religious iconography dominated the space. Shrines to various saints filled niches around the walls. Each was elaborately adorned, showcasing hand-painted images lit by the soft flicker of candlelight.

Men in drab jumpsuits worked alongside women in equally plain dresses, shouting instructions and guiding the evacuees into queues. Others sat behind makeshift desks, scribbling notes or typing commands into green-lit terminals.

Diego stepped out of the Pod with the other evacuees, hoping to disappear into the flood of people. Edging toward a far corner, he wondered how long it would be until he could return home when a sharp voice called out.

“You! Boy!” A stern-faced man pointed sharply at a table where a new line was forming. “Over there!”

Diego froze, heart pounding. On instinct, he reached for the gift he loathed, thinking he could use his masking and slip away—but the thought of becoming the very thing they feared twisted in his gut, stopping him cold. He never wanted to use it again. Not here. Not ever.

Obeying the direction, he shuffled into the line, hoping to avoid attention. When his turn finally came, he approached a woman seated at the table, keeping his head down and letting his bangs fall over his face.

“Name?” she snapped, then quickly added with a scolding tone, “Did nobody teach you to look up when speaking to your elders?”

Diego reluctantly straightened. The woman’s eyes widened, and she let out a startled sound.

“N–Name?” she repeated, her tone thinner than before.

“Diego.” His voice cracked, as it had done more often lately. He clenched his fists, praying this would end quickly. The last thing he needed was a scene.

She glanced around the room. “And your parents?”

The question came as a punch to the gut. Diego’s throat tightened, the words of an answer refusing to form.

The woman’s pen hovered mid-air, her brow furrowing. “Well?”

Diego shook his head, lips pinched tight. His vision blurred, and he knuckled his eyes.

“Hold that boy!” a voice bellowed.

The plaza stilled as heads turned toward the shout. The crowd parted, revealing an immaculately dressed man in a tailored blue suit striding forward.

Alcalde Carlos Garcia.

Deep lines etched the man’s sienna-toned face, giving him the look of someone who had faced a long and hard life. His cold, unsettling eyes demanded attention. Long, gray hair flowed down his back, and a silver mustache, twisted into perfect handlebars, adorned his upper lip. The whole image was one of wisdom—but it wasn’t a comforting aura.

At his side, Raphael’s father jabbed a finger toward Diego.

“That’s him!” he shouted. “He’s the one who called in the Kraal! He’s a growler!”

All eyes turned on Diego, the weight of their stares a cold knife twisting in his gut. Accusations swept outward, driven by a need to find a scapegoat for the horror that had descended on them. “He brought it here!” “It’s all his fault!”

Diego wanted to protest, to shout a denial—but he knew he only had moments to act. He lunged for the folding table, papers scattering as he climbed onto it. The woman screamed and stumbled back.

Hands clawed at his clothes as he gripped the column and scrambled upward, slipping free. At the top, he swung a leg over the railing and rolled onto the balcony, ignoring the cries for his capture.

His eyes darted around, heart pounding, searching for an escape. Fabric rolls and weaving frames littered the space. There—an archway at the far end.

Diego bolted for it, veering to pull a fire alarm at the last second. Sirens blared, red lights flashed overhead, and a bulkhead door began to drop in the archway—exactly what he’d hoped for.

Shouts rang out as members of La Familia rounded the corner and spotted him.

He sprinted for the narrowing gap and dove under the door, sealing his pursuers behind. The fire alarms still blared, and he kept running. Serenity had once hosted tens of thousands, but now sheltered only a few hundred. Surely, somewhere within its maze of empty corridors, he could disappear.

He ventured deeper, the knot between his shoulders tightening. Serenity’s rings had started as identical in design, but decades of modification had given each a distinct personality. So, while Bravo Ring’s halls echoed the familiar layout of Charlie Ring, the subtle differences only put Diego on edge.

Memories of Miguel’s hideout in an abandoned cargo bay on Charlie Ring lingered in his mind. And he hoped that maybe, in some forgotten corner here, he could carve out something of his own.