Citizen 898 Zosime

Salty air filled Zosime’s nostrils for the first time since he had moved to the dome. It was strange to consider, for a city under the sea the scent of brine was strangely absent. This couldn’t be further from the truth here, on the surface, back in the isles of his birth.

The return from the dome felt shorter than the journey there, and it probably was. Zosime and Zotikos made the swim when they were much too small to really remember it or accomplish it with any kind of speed. It probably wasn’t the best move, sending children to make that journey but their parents had been desperate. The islands had been a different place those decades ago.

Dome rexals treat swimming in the deep outside the dome as a coming of age ceremony, and it didn’t sit right with Zosime to claim that for herself. She had been swimming in those waters since she was too young, and it didn’t feel like a monumental achievement. Even the typical rite of passage of isle youth seemed incongruous with Zosime’s life experience. Swimming between the islands might be difficult, but was it really an achievement worth staking her adulthood on?

No, it wasn’t. Mother and Father, who hadn’t seen their child since he was barely hatched, Scipio, who only saw unfair responsibility in the twins, and Aunt Nephele, who couldn’t remember who the pair were most of the time; they would need to see something more, something memorable and indisputable in its proof. They would need to see Fidi’s Lost Logs.

The perfect bit of treasure, not worth anything monetarily, at least at face value, but to0 the right rexal, priceless. Traditional treasure hunters would have overlooked it, and Zosime was better prepared than any of them, he knew all about Fidi’s adventures. He had put the pieces together from some of Aunt Nephele’s vague ramblings, she had been on that ship when Fidi first came to these isles, the first time anyone had come to these isles in living memory.

Did Zosime know where it was? Not really, but he was sure he could figure it out now that he was on the surface. He definitely knew where to start.

The white cliffs of Sennefair, the first thing Fidi had seen of the Posian Isles, and the subject of most of Aunt Nephele’s memories. Zosime could still hear her now, “the birds flew straight to the shore, greeted by white flags, taller than the dome itself. It was salvation, it was proof, this was worth it.”

This was the sight that greeted those rexals, centuries ago, it’s certainly magnificent, Zosime thought as she approached the islands, quickly dwarfed by the cliffs of Sennefair. Certainly, there would be something here.

The cliff face was slick, bare of any indication of rexal tampering. Fair enough, the ship probably circled the island to land, but this was the first view of those on its deck, this was the significant location. Would Zosime be able to find the top of this cliff if she circled the island and tried an overland route? It wasn’t worth the risk of getting turned around, it would be a waste to search the wrong cliff.

The first few meters of the climb were the most treacherous, the water slicking any handholds the shore rexal could find and the battering of waves then sea foam coated his fur with salt and no matter how quickly he closed his eyes on impact, it soon was burning his eyes. As he ascended past the wet stone, he quickly found his arms tiring. Swimming for hours and then climbing a cliff the height of the dome wasn’t his smartest move. It was with trembling hands that he pulled himself onto an outcropping halfway up the climb. 

Zosime lay on his back, taking gasping breaths as he stared at the sky, finally able to rest. There is no point in doubt, there will be something here, and it will lead to the Logs, all this effort will be rewarded. No one just abandons the place that saved them from starvation after months at sea. Aunt Nephele speaks of these cliffs with an almost religious reverence, and she is centuries away from the present, back on the deck of that ship as she breathes out her prayer. No one walks away from that devotion without leaving something there to honour what they left.

Zosime stood, and turned back to continue his climb and when he places his hand on the wall he realizes there is something there. A mark. It is almost no longer there, it’s not visible to his eyes, but through touch he can map out the heart, and the two letters it contained, F + N. Is it nothing, or is it everything? A young Fidi and his lover commemorating their safe arrival?

There is nothing else on the outcropping, though Zosime carefully pats down the whole wall, so he continues up to the top of the cliff. 

The plateau is a flat meadow, full of tall grass and buzzing bugs. In the centre of it all was a stone standing tall. As Zosime approached it, she suddenly realized what it was, a gravestone. Sitting in front of it is a set of golden bangles, slowly being stolen away by creeping plants. Zosime carefully pulls them free and cleans them before turning her attention to the gravestone itself. 

Some light scrubbing finally reveals the inscription, and it was puzzling. “Nephele. Lost but not forgotten. Friend and Lover.”

Zosime gazed at the bangles in her hand and spotted the inscription inside them, “May your eyes ever be clear of the fog that plagues us still. ~Fidi”