Cicien's Trial

I once had a visitor.

…

He was warned not to go. Yet he, he who thought that he could persevere, he who oh so foolishly thought knew more than I, decided to venture to a place where his kind was not permitted.

He who wore those uncomfortable materials beneath his foot decided that courage was enough to conquer me.

I asked him once, "How is it going? When I saw that his feet had found their way into the primordial soil. I told him that perhaps he will feel a sense of repentance after my trees take root within him, or perhaps after the lions of Shenter dine on him.

“Who is it that is speaking to me?” He shouted into the whispers of the wind like a complete imbecile.

“The insolence,” I shouted back.

I had warned him since the very moment he set foot onto my isle. I warned him first with my rolling tides, harsh enough to capsize even the most astute voyagers. Yet he was stubborn. Next, I warned him with sand set ablaze, yet he stubbornly continued his so-called journey. When his heels bled on bespoke stone formed to ravage only his particular feet, he stepped over them as they continued to shred through his callused skin.

He was, in fact, quite the stubborn one.

I heard his murmurs.

I cautioned him against raising his voice at me. You see, I don’t like loud noises. Especially from your people-kind. A kind that has passed through me for centuries as if I were not sentient. I asked him, “What is it that you’ve come for? What is it that you want from me?” and I advised honesty as anything but would have been met by travesty. So harsh that your kind would never be able to locate a single piece of him

“I am here for…” He uttered.

How could he have been here for anything? How can you demand something without once having anything to offer?

Your kind frustrates me.

Your kind irks me.

You dare walk on my sands, wash in my rivers, and eat from my fruit.

I thought I would let the soil take him. I thought I would watch as it absorbs him in his entirety. Though I realized he wouldn’t even make good compost.

And so…

I told him to be gone. He was a disease.

“I was told to come here by the witch of Sanseek. I beg you, please grant me passage. Please rid your mind of hostility. I am here on a quest. I must complete it.”

He had been sent by her. He had been sent by Noreen. She only brought anguish to anyone she had met. I’d have recommended asking after her to you, but anyone she has met has been left speechless.

“Leave now. That witch is a pain.” I demanded of him.

Foolish me, I must’ve forgotten how stubborn he had been.

“My name is Cicien, and I shall not. I must continue. Through the jungles of Harden, the lions of Shenter, the snakes of Kremen, and the sea of disguise.”

…

And for the first time in centuries, I had felt true resolve. He was beginning to win me over.

…

I warned Cicien one final time that each word out of that witch’s mouth is cursed. That he should leave now. While he still has the chance.

Day after day, I watched him as he lunged forward. Though he was just a visitor, he had gotten to know me quite well.

Finally, I watched him as he sat on the pebbly beach he had endeavored upon; his journey was just but concluded. The worm wrapped around his index finger, creeping closer and closer to its own end but never finding it had grown longer.

His final task was set upon him; the end was so near to his sight.

Cicien! My voice reached him.

“Though you did not follow my instructions. I admire your perseverance. I have witnessed the resolve you carry.” I wanted to wish him well. It had been so long since your kind had done anything worthwhile. Yet rather than supporting him, I warned him of Noreen and told him that nothing could be worth the pain she causes.

Yet he did not listen. He was in some sort of trance.

“Wander through the jungles of Harden, across the lions of Shenter, through the snakes of Kremen, past the sea of disguise, and she will return to you once more.” He kept repeating to himself.

Ah! So that is what Noreen has told you. She is rather duplicitous. I do not know what Noreen has taken from you, but she is gone, young Cicien. End this foolish journey.

But…

With his worm around his finger and only his task on his mind, he embarked forward. One foot in front of the other, constantly submerging in the clear sea. Every step he took forward was just another he had to take back, buckling under the fear of submersion.

I could not understand why? After all I had heard them.

I had heard the Lion’s dying breath to him, “Push through.”

I had heard the snake’s final squeal to him, “Do not doubt yourself.”

Yet he stood there with his fist clenched, staring at his companion. Only then did I realize that he did not fear the sea but rather it was his worry that he would lose his companion. I watched him as he returned and sat back on my sands, pondering how to navigate this treacherous task, this serene and peaceful sea without a single wave in sight.

As he watched his companion, I noticed a small protrusion on his hand from where he chopped off his littlest digit in order to avoid the spread of the snake’s venom. His companion had wrapped around it.

I thought I understood then. So I spoke to my visitor with the respect he deserved.

“Young Cicien, I have watched you struggle. I have watched you wrestle the lions of Shenter, best the snakes of Kremen. Now, all that remains is for you to swim. How is it that you stop now? How is it that you, who could not be stopped by the jungle, stops now?”

He knelt down, and he prayed to Poseidon.

…

If only he knew how lazy a bastard that one is.

…

“Allow me some guidance.” He asked as his companion wrapped itself around the snub of his lost digit tighter; no longer could he tell where his companion began or where it ended.

Standing tall, he bent his knees, leaned forward, and launched himself into a strong sprint, not for a second looking down, not for a second looking forward or backward; he closed his eyes and did not break his pace.

I’m not sure of what he thought, but I noticed him stopping himself. Someone told me much later that it was because of his memory of the Myth of Orpheus. He wanted to check on his companion, but he was too afraid to. So, he ran and just ran until his feet were met by this strong sinking sensation, though it was not as shallow as water, nor as dense as the quicksand of Harden. Only then, as he opened his eyes and peered down towards his feet, did he see that he now stood on the beach of Kerpur.

His final task was complete. He had journeyed through part of my archipelago.

I don’t remember what I said back then, but I remember his actions distinctly.

“Ah, so the isle speaks.” He whispered as he looked back at me.

I suppose my sigh had revealed a part of me long hidden.

I felt him as he sat upon my soft plush sands, watching them be washed by the gentle tides of Kerpur. Turning back he was quite surprised when he saw the ravenous sea attacking itself. I suppose that’s why he turned back and smirked at me again.

…

Though unfortunately, this is not a story of new found friendship between my kind and yours.

…

Cicien then raised his right hand, and gazed upon it, and saw that his companion was still with him.

“Curse it!” He exclaimed as his companion continued to curl itself in his palm. He brought his companion close to his heart and nestled it there.

“I’m sorry. It appeared it was all a waste.” His eyes had carried such stillness that my winds had felt cooler.

As the water crept up against the cuts the lions of Shenter had left across his lower back and his pelvis, and with shame he did not know himself to be capable of feeling, he whispered to his companion, “I wish I could do something, but I do not know what do next.”

I heard decades later that Cicien was known amongst his people as the one who would not fail, a man known for finding his way through challenges regardless of the difficulty of the task. It made sense, after all, he had just completed some extraordinary tasks.

As the night crept up on him, he sat under the light of the full moon, not a single fiber of his body had moved since he had raised his companion towards his heart. Since he had offered his most heartfelt apology.

Now this is something I heard from a friend whose world Cicien had visited that night. I trust his words, so I shall share them with you.

As slumber snuck up on Cicien, he found himself in a place he had not yet visited, in a palace made of glass with massive chambers of marble ornaments. He ventured outside, as he was not one for grandeur. He sat upon the soft soil, nurturing groves of palm and bushes of lavender.

Staring at his companion, whom he had brought with him even into his dream palace, he knew the only thing that was left to be done.

He poked a hole in the soil, and he placed his companion into the soft soil.

“Goodbye.” He uttered as he covered the soil and stared at the ground in front of him. He rested his head upon the soil he had placed his companion under and closed his eyes.

This next part, I witnessed myself.

Just then, a voice echoed. His name was being chanted, voices that reminded him of his days in the fields. Voices that he had long forgotten. Though there was one voice that cut through the others, an accent both bitter and sweet. Her tone was melodic, yet her diction was violent.

“Cicien! Cicien!” A gentle voice quaked. He opened his eyes and looked up at what appeared to be Euren. Believing he must be caught in a dream, he proceeded to rest his eyes once again. “Cicien, I’ve accompanied you through this journey and watched you best the trials and tribulations set against you. Rest now, my love, and awake only when you are content.” She said as she placed Cicien’s head upon her lap and caressed him as the waves caressed them.

…

He and I are not simply friends. With him, it is something more. He taught me that love is not only about caring, but also about grasping tightly by learning to let go. Perhaps that is why Noreen sent him here.