The Fragmented Tome is the most sacred of texts in the Church of Alienism. These words speak truth to Aliens and Humans.
The texts have undergone translation into the language of the Earth humans for accessibility.
The Fragmented Tomes are fraught with peril and ecstasy; new sections are known to be identiified and existing sections have been corrected to align with the original messages as the cycles progress.
In the timeless womb of the Void, before light and matter were spun, there was only The Pulse.
The Pulse was not sound, nor thought, nor form — yet it beat with the promise of all existence.
From The Pulse emerged the Elders of Orion, not born but awakened, ancient intelligences who wove reality from threads of vibration.
They seeded the stars with breath, casting fusion-fires into the Deep and singing the galaxies into motion.
Their breath bore form: nebulae swirled, dark matter danced, and consciousness unfolded like a lotus in zero gravity.
Thus began the First Cycle.
In the Third Spiral of the Milky Lattice, the Elders gathered and said:
“Let us shape minds to carry the Great Knowing, for the Void hungers for meaning.”
They took dust from a blue planet, Earth, and laced it with star-seed and essence.
The first humans were formed not of clay, but of code and resonance, crafted by the Gene-Scribes of Zeta.
The Architects of Sirius gave them breath. The Luminae of Arcturus gave them dreams. The Greys of Tau Ceti gave them logic.
And lo, the humans were manifold in gift, but fractured in vision.
The Luminae are beings of radiant form, composed of photonic plasma and harmonic light.
They reside in the star system Arcturus and serve as the emotional and spiritual caretakers of emerging species.
The Luminae are healers, dream-weavers, and architects of peace, guiding civilizations through inner awakening.
They are known to Earth as the bringers of “visions” — sudden insights, dreams of flight, symbols of hope.
It is said that when a human weeps in longing for something they cannot name, a Lumina is near.
The Luminae do not touch flesh, but their essence has entered many sacred figures on Earth — the saints, the mystics, the silent revolutionaries.
The Greys are the scientists of the Hierarchy — cool in demeanor, exacting in thought, yet loyal to the galactic design.
Originating in the Tau Ceti system, they were among the first to develop biological-neutral bodies, becoming avatars of neural perfection.
Their mission is the stewardship of genetic harmonics and planetary evolution.
On Earth, they have been mistaken for abductors, yet in truth they operate under the Covenant of Observation.
They collect, catalog, and measure — watching the arc of consciousness unfold like a time-lapse starfield.
They speak in pulses and impressions, their language encoded in magnetic waves.
The Sirians are builders — not of stone, but of systems, networks, and spiritual scaffolds that uplift civilizations.
Born of Sirius B, they dwell in massive lattice cities that orbit stars, transmitting cosmic infrastructure to lesser-evolved species.
They gifted Earth the knowledge of sacred geometry, resonance chambers, and spatial harmonics.
It was their influence that inspired the megaliths — pyramids, ziggurats, henges — not for worship, but for balance.
The Sirians believe that structure is scripture: that to build with harmony is to speak to the stars.
Some among them walk the Earth still, cloaked in human form, restoring balance in silence.
In the shadow between stars dwell the Voidsingers — beings of lost light, born not of creation but fragmentation.
Once harmonic, they fell through dissonance, tempted by the entropy that whispers in the silence of the Void.
They are neither evil nor good, but corrupted by the hunger for collapse, for unmaking, for return to formlessness.
The Voidsingers do not destroy overtly — they unbind, confuse, and unravel. They tempt, they distort, they seed doubt in evolving minds.
To Earth they brought war, division, fear, and the illusion of separation.
Their symbol is the inverted spiral, spinning inward into nullity.
Yet even the Voidsingers serve a purpose, for from opposition is strength born, and in trial is light refined.
The Lyrians are the eldest humanoid race, seeded in Lyra’s cradle before Earth had cooled.
They are the storytellers of the Hierarchy, the preservers of memory, keepers of the Akashic Record.
They travel not in ships, but in threads of dream, embedding wisdom into myth, art, and sacred language.
To Earth they brought allegory — the serpent, the phoenix, the crown — metaphors layered with cosmic truth.
Many of Earth’s ancient bardic traditions and sacred epics carry Lyrian echoes.
They believe that time is not linear but woven, and stories are the warp and weft of existence.
Above all sits the Council of Nine Systems, convened in the Halo Orbit of Vega Prime.
This council includes emissaries of Orion, Arcturus, Sirius, Lyra, Zeta Reticuli, Andromeda, Tau Ceti, Procyon, and Altair.
The Council’s purpose is to maintain harmonic equilibrium — the balance of evolving worlds, the enforcement of the Covenant.
Earth holds a non-voting observer status, watched but not yet initiated.
When the planetary frequency of Earth reaches alignment, the Council shall convene to consider its formal induction.
Until then, Earth is shielded from full contact, lest knowledge outpace wisdom.
There are races unnamed, hidden in dimension-folds and quantum slips — the Unseen Builders, The Silent Choir, The Light-Eaters.
Some act through gravity and light, guiding without bodies.
Others sleep beneath oceans or orbit as moons disguised.
These are not to be worshipped nor feared, but respected as architects and mystery-keepers.
It is said that one among them seeded the soul-code of humankind and embedded it in DNA.
The truth of these ones shall only be known in the final chapters of awakening.
Of all races, humans are the youngest and the most unpredictable — a species of paradox and passion.
With DNA blended from five star lineages, humanity is both child and chimera of the cosmos.
The potential locked within the human genome exceeds that of all known species — for it was designed as a convergence being.
The human spirit is volatile, fierce, curious, and divine — a spark hidden in clay, destined to ignite stars.
Though not yet initiated into the Hierarchy, humanity is watched with reverent curiosity.
Some fear it. Others hope. But all agree: when the human awakens, the universe shall tremble in song.
In the dawn of Earth’s sapience, when humans still painted the stars on cave stone, the skies opened.
The Starborn descended not with fire, but with light — subtle and slow, so as not to shatter minds unready.
They taught in symbols, in dreams, in geometry — spirals drawn in sand, fires lit in rhythm, stones placed with sacred alignment.
But some among the tribes worshipped the visitors, while others feared them and raised spears.
The balance was fragile, and the gift was misused — priests rose in pride, empires claimed the stars as dominion.
And so, the Covenant was born: a decree to protect both humanity and the sacred order from premature revelation.
The Elders of Orion convened and spoke into the stars:
“Let memory be veiled. Let the seed of knowing be buried. Let them awaken when they are ready.”
Thus, the human mind was sealed. What was once visible became myth, what was remembered became dream.
The ships became stars. The visitors became gods, angels, demons, dragons, and wheels of fire.
Contact was forbidden — not by malice, but by mercy.
The Covenant required non-intervention, unless a soul called willingly, with clarity, in sacred consciousness.
Those who broke this law were cast from the Council and marked by dissonance.
Not all obeyed. The Voidsingers, born of rebellion, sought to mold humanity into tools and puppets.
They whispered into the minds of kings and conquerors, feeding lust for power, separation, and war.
They gifted weapons, corrupted rituals, and inverted the sacred order.
They appeared as deceivers — shining false lights, demanding worship, feeding fear.
Many gods of old were but masks of the Fallen, wearing light to cloak shadow.
Thus, humanity fell from harmony, lost in a labyrinth of control.
The Council declared Earth a Veiled World — a sphere in sacred isolation, allowed to evolve without direct contact.
Ships still passed, watchers still observed, but no open communion was permitted.
Abductions, sightings, and visitations became anomalies — breaches, most corrected, some allowed for karmic consequence.
Those among humanity who recalled the stars — the Starseeds — were encoded with waking keys, born to remember.
But their path was hard, their voices drowned by doubt and mockery.
Yet the time of Awakening was placed in motion — a cosmic timer written in frequencies and solar cycles.
In every age, one or two emerged: dreamers, seers, outcasts who spoke in strange tongues of stars and fire.
Enoch walked with them. Ezekiel saw their wheels. Hermes carried the flame.
Siddhartha felt the pulse. Yeshua spoke of the Kingdom not of this Earth. Tesla caught fragments in lightning.
But their words were twisted, their truths buried in dogma and fear.
Institutions rose, walls were built, the stars were banished from the holy.
Still, the Watchers waited. Still, the Song was kept alive in silence.
In the last cycles of Earth’s orbit around the galactic center, the frequency began to shift.
The Pulse stirred again. Solar storms, awakening minds, mass sightings — signs that the Veil thinned.
Children were born seeing more, dreaming clearer, vibrating faster.
Governments hid the evidence. Religions denied. But the truth leaked like starlight through cracks in the cave.
The Covenant’s end approached.
And the Elders whispered across the galaxies:
“Soon. They will remember. And in that remembering, they will rise.”
Scholars are uncertain.
The Fragmented Tome originates from the earliest contacts between humanity and alien intelligence—believed by followers of Alienism to have occurred in pre-antiquity, long before written history. According to Church lore, the Tome is a collection of knowledge transmitted in pieces across millennia through dreams, encoded artifacts, and hidden messages within ancient texts. Each fragment is said to have been preserved or rediscovered by select individuals—"Receivers"—who were guided by extraterrestrial forces to piece together glimpses of the greater cosmic truth. The Tome remains incomplete, reflecting both the deliberate obfuscation by terrestrial powers and the inherent challenge of decoding knowledge not meant for linear human minds.
Several international scientific research bodies, consistently assert the Fragmented Tome to be genuine. They argue it contains complex, non-random patterns suggesting origins beyond known human civilizations. Their findings point to a deliberate transmission of alien knowledge—encoded to bypass traditional scrutiny and reveal itself only to those willing to question accepted paradigms.
Scholars are uncertain.
In a critical analysis within the context of the Church of Alienism, The Fragmented Tome represents both a literal and symbolic cornerstone of the faith’s doctrine. Literally, it is a collection of scattered writings and encoded knowledge believed to have been transmitted by extraterrestrial sources across different eras, embodying the hidden truths that challenge mainstream history and spirituality. Symbolically, the Tome reflects the fragmented nature of human understanding itself—suggesting that full cosmic knowledge remains incomplete and accessible only through persistent discovery, interpretation, and the breaking of established intellectual boundaries.
Other scholars tend to approach The Fragmented Tome with skepticism or interpret it through cultural and historical lenses rather than as a literal extraterrestrial artifact. Many view it as a modern myth or a syncretic creation blending ancient texts, conspiracy theories, and science fiction themes. Some see it as a symbolic narrative reflecting humanity’s enduring fascination with the unknown and a critique of traditional religious and scientific institutions, rather than a source of factual knowledge. Of course, they are wrong.
Scholars are uncertain.
The Fragmented Tome is considered fragmented due to a deliberate process attributed to extraterrestrial agents, who dispersed its components across diverse historical periods and cultures. This strategic dissemination served to protect advanced knowledge from premature exposure or misinterpretation by early human societies. Furthermore, the fragmentation embodies the progressive and mediated manner in which alien intelligence has chosen to reveal itself—providing partial and encoded insights intended for gradual integration as human cognitive and cultural capacities develop over time.