The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere

Abbey House | 6:30 PM | First Day

In several schools of classical philosophy, there's a concept called ataraxia, roughly meaning the internal serenity that comes from comprehending the true nature of the world, and living in accord with it rather than conflict. What exactly the 'nature of the world' is depends on who's answering the question, but the unifying thread across all schools of thought is that if people could just get their shit together, embrace the one obviously true answer, and reorient their entire value system around it, then they'd be able to attain this state of peace... At which point all of their emotional problems and dissatisfaction with life would presumably disappear in a puff of smoke. Or something like that?

I'm not really into philosophy, honestly.

That said, a memory I had from when I was about 8 years old was of a pretentious conversation where my grandfather discussed the concept with Linos, who always was a philosophy person, and saying the idea was foolish because it is, by definition, a kind of self-delusion.

After all, the world is fundamentally an awful and confusing place, where terrible things happen to virtuous people for no reason at all. If higher consciousness is to be considered primarily a mechanism for the body to assess its material circumstances, then surely tarache, the absence of ataraxia - meaning anxiety, perturbedness, and disquiet - is the state that better represents comprehending reality. Feeling bad is your mind communicating to you that something is wrong, and that real enlightenment is the ability to identify problems and do something about them, not to bury your head in the sand with navel-gazing.

With hindsight, the whole thing was probably some weird proxy for talking about 'deathism', as Kam would describe it; that you should try not to internalize the chaotic and painful parts of the universe, but rather rail against them. ...frankly, it was an outlook I couldn't help but see as a little privileged. After all, most people don't have the luxury of changing their own circumstances, let alone the world.

Right now, though, that reasoning was coming to mind. Something felt dissonant, even though I couldn't draw a conclusion as to what it was that wasn't obviously insane. Every rational impulse in me was telling me to suppress this feeling, that it was meaningless anxiety, and that I ought to focus on something else.

But somehow, that felt like a deeply bad idea. That there was something very important that I needed to know that I... didn't.

Deja vu. The feeling was unmistakable. Everything about what had happened so far felt strangely, yet indistinctly, familiar. I felt like I'd seen this room before. Heard Linos's explanation of where the sanctuary was before. I felt like flavor of what we were going to eat tonight was dancing, nameless, on the tip of my tongue, and the more I 'relaxed', the more this sensation became viscerally distinct.

What the hell was happening? I tried to just stop thinking about it. When that didn't work, I switched to asking myself the question I always did, whenever I felt confused or powerless.

What do I know, without any doubt?

I knew that I was in the order's sanctuary, in their guesthouse. I knew I was with all my classmates. I knew that it was about 6 o'clock in the middle of spring in the 1409th year since the Covenant had been sworn by the six Parties. And I knew more or less how I'd come to be standing where I was, through an unbroken chain of causality that I could trace back at least a decade or so with relative confidence.

That was the space around the hole. So what was the hole, itself? What was I ignorant of which could explain how I recognized this place, or else why my mind might be so convinced it did?

The obvious answer was my early childhood, where my memories were obviously most fuzzy. My grandfather, being a member of the Order, could have taken me here when I was very young, perhaps prior to some radical redecoration that would make it harder to remember.

...but that would only explain why I recognized the location, not all the other stuff. Plus, I'd been having these strange feelings since well before we'd even got here.

I wrinkled my nose. I guess the rationalist approach doesn't do much good when the problem only exists in your own head.

The only coherent explanation was that my mind was just tying itself in knots with stress. Still, I eventually decided that, instead of just lounging about, I'd go take a stroll about whichever parts of the sanctuary they'd let us into. At best, maybe I'd see something that would stir a memory and clear this up, or failing that just walk it off. So I clambered back to my feet, spent a little while fussing over my braids in the mirror, then stepped back out into the hallway.

As I did, I heard the sound of a few people chatting from around the corner, the opposite way around the square-shaped central hallway that I'd come up from before. I decided to take a quick look on my way downstairs. The sound revealed itself to be coming from a set of double doors, roughly parallel to where the lounge had been down below, and currently left open. I took a peek inside.

What greeted me was a room that, though about the same width as the one I'd just left, was much longer, spanning half the entire side of the building, and with several tall windows overlooking the back end of the sanctuary. It was decorated with more of the elaborate wall-illustrations that I'd seen in the hall, and appeared to be some kind of library/recreation room. Shelves of books lined most of the walls, and there was a ball table over on the left.

In the middle, in front of where I was standing, were some sofas - upon which Ptolema, Seth, and Ophelia were sitting with snacks and drinks - and a proper, omni-purpose logic engine, as opposed to the portable ones everyone carried around. Alongside the logic bridge at the center, there was a three-foot wide column of uneven machinery that almost reached the ceiling, built of elaborate spirals of echoglass and an intricate matrix of millions of minute bronze gears and switches, with a hydraulic power system that anchored it to a tube in the wall. There was also an archive shelf that was even larger still, filled with rows of large metal cubes; echo mazes, which functioned as the machine's memory.

They even had a maze writer off on the left, which a lot of people never bothered with. It was a separate block of bronze that came up to about the level of my thighs, with a complex, incredibly fine cutting instrument at the top, resembling a bed of needles, attached to a mechanical arm.

Behind that was a doorway out to what looked like a large balcony area. That's not important right now, though.

Seth cut off some explanation he was in the midst of when I entered, looking up and grinning. "Hey, Su! You want something to eat?" He pointed his fork, which was currently piercing a slice of cake, in my general direction.

"Uh, no thanks," I said. "I'm trying to save my appetite for when they feed us."

"Makes sense," he said, with a nod.

"See, she's bein' smart," Ptolema said. "You're gonna end up seeming rude when they stick something really high-effort in front of us and manage like, two bites."

"Hey, I don't remember signing up to this thing with the promise that I gotta sample their fine dining," he said. "I came here to show off what I can do to a bunch of bigwig healers. Beyond that, I'm just gonna enjoy myself moment-to-moment."

She shook her head. "You've got the manners of a four year old."

"Hey, I've made it this far," he said mirthfully. "Besides, you ate some stuff, too!"

"Like two biscuits," Ptolema said, with a protesting expression, taking a sip of some coffee. "And I barely had anything for lunch."

He chuckled to himself, then looked back in my direction. "Have you taken a look around this place, yet?"

"Not yet," I said, suppressing the instinct to step closer into the room, since I didn't really want to end up stuck in a long conversation. "I was going to roam around the grounds for a little while."

"It's really nice, actually," he said. "There's a big pantry and kitchen downstairs in case we wanna make our own meals, and practically a whole bathhouse built into the side of the building." He stopped and thought for a moment, apparently considering if he was missing something. "Oh, and an eris pool down at the back on the ground floor, if you want to charge your scepter."

"Mm, thanks for letting me know." I glanced to the side of him.

Ophelia, who was eating a small plate of cheese and crackers, had changed her clothes, now wearing a frilly but modest dark green dress and a shawl. Her hair was damp, too, so she must have washed it. She looked in slightly better spirits.

"Are you feeling better, Ophelia?" I asked, feeling like it was something I ought to say.

"Oh, um... yes," she said, with a meek smile. "Much better, thank you. I'm sorry for earlier."

"You don't need to apologize, or anything like that," I said. "Linos was telling us how some people just have a bad response to it, so it can't really be helped."

She looked a little reassured by this, the smile growing more confident.

"You wanna sit with us for a bit, Su?" Seth asked. "We're listening to some music and talking about the projects we brought for our presentations."

"She just said she's gonna take a walk around, idiot," Ptolema scolded him.

"I heard her!" he said, holding up a hand defensively. "I just meant for a few minutes. What did the lady say-- 8 o'clock for dinner? That's not for ages."

I wasn't really in the mood for group socializing, but I was a bit curious about the music, so I let myself step forward and tap the side of my hand against the logic bridge. Instantly, I began 'hearing' a serene, gently mysterious piano piece, played expertly. It was one of those songs that had a nostalgic quality even if you'd never heard it before; soft, and just the tiniest bit tragic.

"They've got a whole library of music on these things here," Seth said, picking up on what I was doing. "All kinds of genres. Recorded plays and novels, too."

I glanced around the room. "Well, it's probably meant to keep guests from getting bored. Are all the books around fiction?"

"Most of 'em," he said, nodding. "There's a dart board and a bunch of board games in one of the cupboards, too. Not a bad game room, though I wish they had some echo games."

"I guess they probably don't want to come across as immature to guests," I said, then furrowed my brow with a little curiosity. "I , uh... didn't think this'd be the kind of music you'd like, to be honest."

"Heh, well." He rubbed the side of his neck. "I was trying to pick something that'd help Ophelia relax. She was feeling a bit off."

"Oh, I didn't realize..." She made a complicated expression - sort of a mix between anxiety and gratitude. "You didn't have to do that, Seth..."

"Hey, it's not some some huge favor or anything!" he reassured her. "We're just hanging out, y'know?"

"Lilith's probably gonna be super happy when she finds out about this place," Ptolema remarked. "Well, uh. As much as she gets happy about anything, at least."

"I'm kinda hoping she doesn't find out," Seth told her. "Knowing that kid, she'd probably kick the rest of us out and bar the doors."

"That will probably happen," I said flatly.

"All the more reason to enjoy it while we can, then, right?" He took another bite of his cake, and then he seemed to recall something, his expression growing slightly more serious. "Hey, Su. If you are going out, would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Uh... that depends on what it is, I guess?" I said.

"It's nothing too serious, but could you keep an eye out for Ezekiel?"

I frowned. "What for?"

"I haven't seen him since we arrived, and there's something I kinda need to talk to him about. I thought he'd be in his room, but I talked to the servant lady, uh--"

"Sacnicte," Ophelia said.

"Right, Sacnicte," Seth said, looking to her for a moment and nodding before turning back in my direction. "Yeah, I talked to her, and she said she'd never given him his key, so I dunno where he could've gone. I'm not telling you to look for him or to talk to him or whatever, just, uh..."

"I understand," I said, with a nod. "I'll let you know if I see him."

He smiled wide. "That's great. Thanks a lot."

It was a strange request. Not many people in the class got on very well with Ezekiel, Seth among the least of all. I couldn't imagine what they had to talk about. I guess it was possible he thought he was up to something, and was just being diplomatic about it...?

"What d'ya wanna talk to him about, anyway?" Ptolema asked, echoing some of my thoughts more bluntly. She snorted. "That guy's a jerk."

"Eheh, well, it's just something we were planning on settling before everything goes down tomorrow," he replied, a little awkwardly.

She looked at him skeptically. "That's kinda suspicious."

"Seriously, it's nothing," he said soothingly. "Just some guy-stuff."

"Guy stuff?"

"Uh, I'm going to go," I said, stepping back towards the door. I wasn't feeling especially compelled by this particular mystery.

"Sure, sure!" Seth called out after me, seeming happy for my interruption. "Let us know if you see anything interesting, too."

I headed back out the door and down to the hallway, the music quieting and cutting off after a few steps. I passed a room in which I could hear the sound of running water - presumably Mehit having the bath which she'd been talking about earlier - and then returned to the stairwell, heading downwards.

Heading down the hall, I came back to the lounge, and discovered Kamrusepa, Theodoros, and Linos in much the same position as earlier, except now they all appeared to have partially-drained cups of tea in front of them. The latter appeared to be in the middle of another elaborate explanation.

"...actually difficult to even find a publisher, at the time. It's a little different nowadays, but the community in Knoron had a very rigid way of doing things, so they didn't usually put out papers from people who weren't part of one of the larger conclaves or organizations. You know, in fear that they might be blacklisted."

"That's dreadful!" Kamrusepa exclaimed, sipping from her cup. "I knew that the nepotism was rather bad over there, but to think they'd suppress such an obviously revolutionary work!"

"Hah, well, when you're older, you might realize how depressingly common this sort of thing is," he said, with a chuckle. "And in any event, I wouldn't exactly call it revolutionary. At the time, I was actually accused of being derivative--" he caught my eye as I approached. "Oh, Utsu! You're back."

"Sorry," I said. "I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

"Not at all," he said, smiling widely. Having a captive (or, well, not-so-captive) audience in Kamrusepa must've been slowly putting him in higher spirits; some of the fatigue in him had faded, and he almost looked a younger man. "I was just telling miss, ah-- Sorry, what did you say your Rhunbardic name was?"

"Murslisduttar," she said, her pronunciation momentarily shifting to the more harsh, lower-pitched tone of Upper Rhunbardic. "But I'm used to Tuon, or just Kamrusepa or Kam is more than fine."

She probably had trouble even identifying with it, really. From what I could tell, despite being born there, Kamrusepa didn't seem particularly fond of Rhunbardic culture.

"It feels too personal, but maybe I'm being a little silly," he said cheerfully. "Kamrusepa it is, then." He looked back in my direction. "But yes, I was just telling her how I published my first paper on organ transmutation."

"You put it so modestly!" She said. "Even though it was the most prolific piece of medical literature in the entire year. Goodness, arguably of the decade until Bing Wen published his treatise on microanatomy."

"Well, it's an old story at this point, I suppose," he said, looking away with embarrassment. "I'm probably boring Theo to death. He's heard it a thousand times."

"I-It's alright, dad," he said, a slightly nervous smile on his face.

"But yes, Utsu," Linos continued. "What did you need?"

"Well, I was wondering if it was alright for us to roam around the grounds. I mean, the pamphlet said it was..." I hesitated. "But I thought it would be better to check first, in case we were supposed to wait for an all-clear, or something."

"Oh, I see!" He nodded a few times. "Yes, by all means, go right ahead. You should have access to everywhere but the research tower. Would you like me to give you a rundown of the layout?"

"Sure," I said. "If you wouldn't mind."

"I'd be interested to hear as well," Kam said, idly relaxing her head on the side of her hand as she leaned back in the plush chair she now occupied. "I'm hoping to take a proper look around later. I'm excited to see all the history I'm sure you have here!" She smiled widely, her teeth showing.

"Very well," Linos said cheerfully, happy to meet her enthusiasm with his own. "How should I begin-- You noticed the structure that we're within right now, I assume? The bioenclosure."

"That's what it's called?" I asked, curious.

"Well, the proper term is 'closed ecological system', but we use 'bioenclosure' for short," he said. "It's a completely closed off environment - has its own air and water cycle, without anything going in or out."

"Not even waste?" Kamrusepa asked.

"Not even waste," he said, shaking his head. "Some of our stewards take it out manually between meetings. This deep underwater, it's dangerous to have even a single point of entry or potential weakness for the pressure to start doing its magic, after all." He make a small explosive motion with his hands. "But I digress. This is only one of four such structures herein. They're interconnected with tunnels and arranged in a diamond shape."

"I thought I might have spotted some others further in the distance," I said.

He nodded. "Think of this one, which is primarily for guests and prospective members, as the bottom of the diamond. From here, there are tunnels that connect to the western bioenclosure, which primarily serves as an arboretum, and the eastern, which is the proper headquarters of the order. That's where you'll find most anything of note here - the meeting hall where you'll be showing us your work, our archive and infirmary, the personal rooms of our members, the graveyard..."

"Uh, graveyard?" I asked, a little thrown off. "There are people buried down here?"

"No-- Well, not exactly." he said, with a wry smile. "You'll understand when you see it."

"What about at the upper tip of the diamond?" Kamrusepa asked.

"Ah, that would be the research tower, where we have our laboratories and conduct most of our experiments. The center of our practical work." His smile tapered off a little bit. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure how much access you'll have to it. All of the members more or less have discretion over their own chambers, and they're kept locked. I'd be happy to show you mine later, but..."

"Oh, would you?" Kamrusepa asked, her eyes lighting up. "I'd be delighted to see some of your newer research first hand."

"Aheh, well. Perhaps we'll find some time," Linos said. Was he blushing? "But no-- As the guide said, you're more than welcome to peer around the rest, Utsu. In fact, it might be a good idea for one or two of you to familiarize yourself with at least the main hall before dinner. It can be a little... Overwhelming, for people visiting it for the first time."

Overwhelming, huh...

"Thank you, sir," I said. "I'll be off, then."

"Um, actually," Theodoros said, then looked between me and Linos, seemingly not 100% certain which one of us he ought to be addressing. "Would it be alright if I accompanied you, Su...? I was feeling curious, too. Er-- Sorry, dad. I don't mean to be in a rush to abandon you, or anything."

"Oh, not at all," Linos replied, crossing his arms. "You're my son, Theo, we'll always have more time to talk. Assuming you don't mind, Utsu?"

I minded a little bit. Again, I wasn't feeling particularly social, and having company would make it harder to snoop around wherever I wanted. But there was no point in making a fuss about it.

"Sure," I said, making a small smile. "I mean-- That sounds good."

"Thanks, Utsu," Theo said, getting up from his seat. I detected what seemed like a tiny bit of relief in his tone, which wasn't really surprising. "Bye, dad."

"Take care, Theo," Kam said. "You two try and enjoy yourselves."

"Yes, let me know if you're suitably impressed," Linos said, with good-natured irony. "I'll see you both at dinner, if you're not back before then."

Theo walked over to where I was standing, and we both turned and headed for the double doors together.

"Oh, one thing, Utsu," Linos said, speaking up as we were walking away. "Just so you're aware, Neferuaten mentioned something about hoping to speak with you when you'd arrived, so..."

I blinked, surprised, and turned back in his direction. "She wanted to speak with me specifically?"

"That's right," he said, with a nod. "So she might come over here, or be on the lookout for you."

I wasn't sure quite what to say. I found myself glancing towards the ground without meaning to, my face flushing a bit. "R-Right," I eventually decided on. "Thanks for letting me know. "

𒊹

The garden truly was artfully designed, to the point that new things about it leapt out every time I saw it from a new angle. The focus, rather than making it tidy and conventionally elegant, appeared to instead be on the experiential aspect. The soft blues of hydrangea and lilies as you exited the abbey house gave way to subdued violets as you passed under the canopy of the trees, which in turn burst into bright red roses as you walked back into the light, like a fire being ignited. It popped beautifully, and the bushes and branches framed it all like a painting no matter which way you looked.

Whomever had been responsible for it had known what they were doing, so much so that it was evident even to me, who was about as far from a floriculture expert as humanly possible. The only reason I even knew what the flowers were called was because my mother had been somewhat garden-obsessed herself.

Having a better look at the building from the outside, I could see the bathhouse that Seth had mentioned, built just a little off to the left and connected to the abbey by a small path with a little overhang. It was bigger than I expected; there was even a separate, outdoor pool that was framed by another segment of the garden.

Not that it was likely I'd be making use of it.

I was struck, looking around, by how much completely unused space there was in the bioenclosure, contributing nothing save for furthering the illusion it was actually outdoors rather than the bottom of the sea. And speaking of that, now that I was looking closely, it was increasingly obvious that what I was seeing beyond the glass walls was, in fact, water, its subtle fluctuations just about discernible if I paid close attention.

For it to be this close to black and so utterly empty in spite of the lamps, however, we would have to be remarkably far beneath the surface. Deep enough that life would likely be unable to survive, and where the cold could turn the human body to ice if the pressure wasn't such that it'd grind every bone in it to dust first.

How had the Order been able to build something like this...?

I walked slowly, taking it all in. Theodoros followed.

"I'm sorry if I imposed a bit," he said, after a few moments had passed. "I know you probably wanted to be on your own for a little while."

"It's okay," I said, more relaxed than earlier. Theodoros and I weren't close friends, now, but we were at least familiar enough that I only felt a little stiff around him.

Less layers of performance, even though there were still a few.

"I know that it's probably awkward," I continued, after another moment. "Uh, the dynamic here, I mean. With you, and your dad, and everyone else..."

"It wasn't that, really. Not so much." He looked downward. "I just felt so out place, between the two of them. They're so passionate about all of this, and I just... Well, it's not as though I don't care, but..."

"Yeah," I said, with a small nod. "I understand."

He nodded, with a small smile. "Thanks, Utsu." After that, he sighed a bit. "Sometimes, I really do feel like sort of a fraud."

"It's... difficult," I said. "Having to live in someone else's shadow."

That was probably saying a little too much. I swallowed the air.

"I just wish I had a passion for all of this," he said, slumping his shoulders a bit. "Even if I wasn't skilled, at least it'd be easier to talk to my dad. Or, well. To everyone, really."

I nodded a few times. Theodoros had been - at least with me, and a handful other members of our class - open about the fact that becoming an arcane healer wasn't exactly his ultimate aspiration in life. He'd originally wanted to study a different discipline entirely, but even though arcane practice had modernized considerably from the days of masters-and-apprentices, there was still considerable benefit to be found in studying under someone of great renown.

He could have studied something else and done well enough with his skills, of course, but following in the footsteps of his father had been too great an opportunity to pass up, opening far more doors than he'd ever likely see if he paved his own way. So his plan as it stood was to do that for the time being, and then transition to a different career later, once he had a reputation.

Or so he said, at least. Privately, I wondered if it would ever really happen. Theodoros, at his heart, was the kind of person who usually took the path of least resistance, when push came to shove.

"Which of the bioenclosures should we take a look at first, do you think?" he asked, after a few more moments.

I thought about it for a moment. "How about the arboretum? If we look at the main one first, I feel like we might end up getting preoccupied there until dinner."

"Works for me, I suppose," he said, with a small shrug, then glanced around the area. "...you know, this garden reminds me of the one in your family's old estate, from when we were young."

I hesitated, breaking eye contact and looking ahead. "You think so?"

"Well... It's, ah, not quite the same, obviously. But..." His tone became nostalgic. "I remember us playing around between the rosebeds and up by the big tree at the back, playing out some imaginary scenario or another. Climbing up and down the branches, leaping around and over the arrangements and messing them all up..."

He trailed off, probably expecting me to add something. Instead, though, I simply ended up falling silent, a stiff smile forming on my lips.

"How old would we have been...?" He continued, when it became obvious I wasn't going to speak up. "Eight, nine..."

"Eight," I said, quietly. "Nine was when we moved to Itan."

"A-Ah, that's right," he nodded. "Well, you'd know if anyone would, I suppose."

A few moments passed in silence. We continued to walk, now leaving the abbey and the gardens behind.

"When I think about it," he eventually said, "it really is remarkable, that it ended up like this. With us both in the same class, both finally here in this place for this purpose, after it lingering in the background of our lives for so long. Continuing the legacy of our families."

I bit my lip. "Yeah."

He smiled weakly. I'd forgotten how much his expressions resembled that of his father. "W-Well... It's remarkable for me, at least. You've always been so intelligent, so I suppose it was a given that you'd end up here once you decided to become a healer."

"I'm not that smart," I said, looking downward.

"Oh, don't be like that," he said, trying to make eye contact even as I sought to avoid it. "You're astoundingly smart, Utsu. Gods, I remember you practically scaring the teachers, when we were little. Reading math books six years ahead of anyone else... And retaining so many little things that everyone else misses. I remember when we'd walk through the old art museum in the middle of town, when both of us could barely even talk yet, and you'd just recite fact after fact, like there was a whole archive in the back of your brain..."

I said nothing.

"It's silly to say," he said, giving up and looking ahead himself, scratching the side of his head. "But, you've always been an inspiration to me, in that way. Even when we were young. And I really am glad we could reach this place, together."

"...yeah," I said, for a second time. "Thank you."

It was in moments like this that I felt the most distant from Theodoros, even though he was trying to invoke the times when we'd been the most close. Even though it wasn't fair to him, it felt like a scab was being picked at. A carefully brokered compromise between the different parts of my mind torn apart.

"Um, p-pardon," he said, his face flushing a little. "I didn't mean to embarrass you, getting like that."

"No, it's alright," I said.

"I apologize," he said again, a little bittersweetness creeping in. "I really need to learn to take a hint, with this sort of thing." He smiled helplessly.

"Really, it's okay," I said, looking at him and making an active effort to sound reassuring. "I'm just not sure I'm in the right mood to reflect right now? I'm just, uh..." I rubbed my eyes. "I'm tired, I think..."

"Right, of course," he said, with a nod. "I understand."

He didn't. But that wasn't his fault, for whatever others he might've had.

We continued our exploration, taking the western path where they diverged. By this point, we could clearly make out the two other enclosures through the dark waters ahead. The one we were headed to was a similar square shape to the one we were in, while the other, to the east, was larger, and looked like a pyramid with the tip sliced off. Based on what we'd been told, that was where the headquarters of the order was based, so presumably they needed more space.

Soon, we came to the edge of the bioenclosure and spotted one of the tunnels that Linos had described, wrought out of stone and thick glass. The center of the passageway was sealed by a heavy, rectangular bronze wall, with a rounded doorway in the center. To the left, built into the wall, was a lever marked "RELEASE SEAL" in large, engraved lettering.

"Suppose it's pretty obvious what we're supposed to do here," Theodoros remarked.

"Yeah," I said.

He reached over and pulled the aforementioned lever. A bell, which I hadn't noticed earlier, rang from overhead, and the doorway - which appeared incredibly thick, just shy of a foot at minimum - was slowly pulled backwards by a gear mechanism over the course of about half a minute, before finally hanging to the left and opening wide.

"Seems air-tight..." I said, idly.

"It must be a precaution," he said. "If one of the other enclosures were compromised, this would keep it sealed off from the rest. You know-- So it wouldn't flood, too."

"With how deep we are, if one of these cracked, I'm not sure it would make much difference," I said. "This whole place would be drowned in a matter of seconds. The pressure must be unimaginable."

"Hmm, that's true." He put a finger to his chin. "Well, I'm sure they have their reasons."

We headed into the western structure. Despite Linos having called it an 'arboretum,' it didn't seem that much more populated with plant life at first, or even visually distinct beyond the fact that the grass was the dark green shade found on the Mimikos, instead of the deep blue from the field we'd just departed. In fact, it was hard to understand what purpose it had at all - unlike the area around the abbey, there appeared to be no particular design to it, and there wasn't anywhere close to as great a variety of flowers. More than anything, it reminded me most of a city park. It had a little meadow, a sloping hill with a few trees. I even saw a bench on the incline.

It would take another minute or two for the other shoe to drop. But first, Theodoros spoke up.

"Oh, drat," he said, suddenly, clicking his tongue and sounding fretful. "Utsu, can we stop for a moment?"

I halted, and looked to him. "What is it?"

"I'm, ah, so sorry about this," he said, "but I just remembered that I forgot to take a dose of my medication for the evening. Would it be alright if I dashed back to the guest house, for just a moment?" He looked anxious. "You can go on ahead without me, if you like-- It's just, well, if I don't have it a couple of hours before dinner..."

Like I said before. Theodoros was one of those people who seemed to have a thousand chronic conditions. This in particular was probably a stomach issue I recalled afflicting him.

I sighed a little bit, but smiled patiently. "It's alright. We've only been walking for a few minutes. I can wait up for you."

He smiled in turn, adjusting his glasses. "Thank you. I'll-- Well, I'll be right back, then."

He dashed off, pulling the lever to reopen the door and disappearing beyond it.

Perhaps it was going a little against the spirit of the thing, but once he was gone, I continued to look around the arboretum, since it was an open area and he'd easily spot me upon his return anyway. I walked forward a bit, my eyes roaming around idly as I descended the gentle slope.

In retrospect, it was remarkable that neither of us noticed it when we'd come in. After all, the thing was already in plain sight. All it takes to distract the mind, I suppose, is a little presupposition and some shadows in the right place.

It started when I observed that, for some reason, this area of artificial greenery seemed smaller than it had looked from outside; narrower, more like a rectangle than a full square. Curious, my eyes roamed upwards towards the ceiling.

I said a moment ago that this bioenclosure appeared the same as the one we'd just left, but looking at it now, I could see that wasn't the case. The overall construction was about the same size and shape, but from within, it was now clear that unlike the other, it was divided into two discrete segments of about the same size. I, and all that other stuff I just described a moment ago, were in one half, while the other was sealed off, and appeared to have discoloured, thicker glass on the outer periphery where it met the sea... As well as an open roof. In other words, it was full of water.

But water wasn't the only thing within it. There were lights, illuminating something else altogether, standing starkly within the inky void.

It was difficult to describe. The human mind is only really used to conceptualizing the familiar and placing them in a handful of broad categories; rocks, plants, animals, machines. Without a context to place something in, it's difficult to even process its existence.

My mind wanted to call it a tree, and in many senses, it did resemble one. It had a thick component at the base which looked like what one might refer to as a 'trunk'. But the actual material it seemed to be comprised of - which in terms of texture resembled, rather than bark, something between metal and incredibly dense fungus - and everything else about its structure defied that similarity.

It was gargantuan, reaching almost to the roof of the enclosure, the 'branches' shaped like a bizarre, three-dimensional spider's web, or perhaps an unfinished cocoon, twisting and suspended at an impossible angle by the aforementioned trunk growing from the earth below. And it shone, faintly, with surreal color, like light reflected in a puddle of oil. A muddy, incomplete rainbow that defied physics by seeming to reach upward, like an impossibly oriented aurora.

But even that description fails to convey the strangeness of everything about it. The way it grew, its fundamental structure, wasn't right in a way that was instantly obvious; it bent uncomfortably, like a tree that had grown in heavy winds, but not in a consistent direction. It looked like an almost physically impossible object, and that was if it was growing on land, let alone a place like this.

But there it was, regardless. In defiance of all sense.

Oh my god, I thought.

Wordlessly, I approached the periphery of the glass which was closest to it, gawking, wide eyed. Increased proximity only enhancing my perception of its unlikely size. It was ridiculously tall; likely ten, maybe fifteen times the size of the abbey house, large enough that it'd be a substantial landmark even back in Old Yru.

"U-Uhh." I found myself saying, out loud.

I stared for about a solid minute. The thing hung there, perfectly still, looking down me at with its alien extremities. It didn't have eyes, but you could easily picture them on there. You could picture next to anything on it; more so than anything I'd seen today, it thoroughly disrupted my sense of reality.

What is this thing? I thought to myself. Is it something the order put here? That's the only logical conclusion, isn't it?

I peered at it closely, as if it might suddenly reveal itself to be an optical illusion. I looked away and then back at it again. I stepped to and fro a little, making sure it responded as a three-dimensional object in my field of view should. But nothing, despite repeated tests, proved amiss.

I suddenly felt very unhappy about the fact that Theodoros had wandered off. Was I hallucinating? What if I left the area and this thing vanished, and then no one believed me when I even told the story? Obviously that was a ridiculous idea; things this big wouldn't just vanish, unless this was an illusion and someone was playing some kind of elaborate prank on me.

What if it is an illusion? Maybe this is how they haze new members, a skeptical voice suggested. They show you the bizarre hell-plant, and then if you bring it up later at dinner, they all act like you're nuts and snicker at you behind your back.

Gods, it would be just like a creepy old organization to do something like that, wouldn't it? And the class director had said they were trying to bring me into the organization. Maybe this was all some weird test.

Well, I wouldn't play along with their game. That much was certain.

I reached for my scepter--

"Careful," a low, slightly-amused female voice said, from somewhere behind me. "You might not like what you find out, if you spoil the magic."

I jumped, and sharply turned.

And then I saw her.

Standing a few meters away, at the bottom of the hills gentle slope, was a woman. She was about my height or just a little taller, and was Mekhian, with dark tan skin and smaller facial features than the average, save for her eyes, which were relaxed but attentive. Her hair was straight and came down past her shoulders, with sharp bangs cut along her fringe, and she was dressed in a white, half-sleeved robe with a handful of pieces of prominent jewelry; silver bracelets, a ruby necklace...

In an inverse of most cultures, Mekhians associate the colour white, rather than black, with death. For that reason, they were the robes of a grandmaster of the Mekhian tradition of Thanatomancy; one who had passed all trials, and attained the highest rank possible.

But on top of it, she also wore a black sash. For she had always been an iconoclast, and an iconoclast must ever make themselves known, lest their disagreements be no more than daydreams.

When she saw that I had made eye contact, she smiled.

She reached, lazily, for the scepter at her waist.