To Fly the Soaring Tides

Wisdom.

What was it, truly?

In this unpredictable path of life, could it be considered the wherewithal to abstain from chaos? Cira had no control over her birth, and these days it seemed like she could die at any time for any reason.

No, that's not quite right.

If Cira died randomly one day, it would likely be for the greater good. Not that her death in and of itself would be a positive event for the world, but that her death would surely come in a thoughtless blaze of self-righteous glory.

Regardless, Cira couldn't control any of it. That's how she was beginning to feel anyway. The Village of the First Mark was to her an oasis in these skies. Cira's body had almost always received ample rest, yet her mind felt weathered over the years.

It goes without saying that no one gets to choose whether they're born, but Cira really didn't like the uncertainty she saw in the path ahead. She used to think it was only a matter of course that she would die in the line of duty. That was just the sorcerer's code. Even her father lived by it.

But he got to choose where he died… didn't he?

Was that wisdom? Or at least an example of the difference between Cira's and her father's? Would reaching an adequate end meet the criteria or was it simply knowing the destination that did it?

For all his flaws, he always knew what to do.

Cira had been riddled with doubt lately. This effect was of course compounded by the one and only rule of the second trial. Once started, Cira was not allowed to read anything until she passed. Worse yet, she lacked the power to break the rule. Various enchantments could still be read, as well as signs at the market, but anything beyond simple text was completely illegible.

Not only was it blurred, but the characters would shift, morphing into each other. Cira was effectively illiterate until the day she receives her second mark. This issue leapt clear past inconvenience into full-blown urgent matter territory. There was nothing else to say. Cira needed to clear the second trial before she left Icarus.

Comprehend this spring? What the hell is that? I literally became a spring before. I think I have a pretty decent understanding of them at this point.

A mind without rest—Cira had hardly begun to process the events of Fount Salt. While she almost faded into the aether afterwards and took the lives of many pirates shortly thereafter, this was her first true chance to relax. Burying her face in books was an easy way to burn through her days. She was young enough to spare a few, after all.

But this new trial left her completely in the dark while depriving her of so much more than her newfound reprieve from reality. If Cira left now she may never read again. She had to push her discomfort down and focus on necessity.

The thing was, Cira had been focusing on her task for days now. Spring Sense was out of the question for now. Destria was upset enough after a gentle hug.

This left Cira to stare at the spring aimlessly for up to sixteen hours a day. Sometimes from sunup to sundown, or all night while she basked in moonlight. Eliza's class was a break from this, but not a very relaxing one. Keeping up had become infinitely more difficult since being banned from reading.

She even had to take a break from unraveling Daedilus' secrets, as writing her books became a frustrating endeavor when the words immediately disappeared. She couldn't even imagine them in her head with any clarity. It was as bizarre as it was infuriating.

Yet nothing seemed to get her any closer to 'comprehending this spring'.

Cira had spent day and night by this point running various checks and by all rights it seemed like a normal spring. She could have sworn Fitzgeralt told her Daedilus built it, and that Destria was somehow responsible for its function, but that didn't make any sense after all Cira's observations.

Of course, set as it was within Icarus' rings, it didn't need to levitate, but it seemed to ascend along its track faster than it descended throughout the course of a day. This was her first sign that it did indeed do its job. That said, she couldn't tell how it helped Icarus stay afloat.

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Does it even? Was Fitzgeralt lying to me? I suppose it wouldn't do him any good to have helped me pass this trial, so it does check out.

Cira knew these waters to be consistent in mineral content with pretty much any old island, and there was nothing out of the ordinary about its output.

What else am I supposed to comprehend?

She had been at it so long she was starting to get painfully bored, but she knew deep down that that was the trap laid out by the Archive.

Okay… what does the archive want? I passed the first trial by pursuing wisdom in spite of discomfort, I think, so could a theme be building here?

Perhaps I need to pursue wisdom in spite of my incompetence. I must overcome my inability to 'comprehend this spring'.

Cira thought she was onto something, but it didn't help her. Suppose that were the Archive's aim, that didn't give her any hints as to the objective.

She tried asking around but it became clear everyone else was just as lost, else they wouldn't be here anymore. Though most gave her strange looks and acted oddly distant, so she couldn't even make friends to share the burden of boredom with. She was beginning to miss the village.

That said, most here didn't look bored. In fact, it didn't look like they were trying to comprehend anything either. They were busy enjoying themselves or relaxing day in and day out. As if they thought the answer would come to them if they stopped searching for it.

That didn't help Cira either. That just wasn't how comprehension worked as far as she knew.

"What's got you so down?" A familiar voice called out.

She was so focused on the spring she didn't even see him coming, "Well if it isn't Old Man Roberts. When did you get here? I figured you retired or something."

He let out hoarse cough before replying, "A few days ago. The High Arbiter ordered I have my health checked before starting the next trial, and I thought I would spend a few days in the archive before I lost the chance."

"Right… I guess everyone else knew about the conditions here." Cira silently denounced Eliza who got the last laugh after all. "I hope your health is good though."

"Well, I'm getting' old. I'd be surprised if I receive my second mark before my last day comes." He didn't seem upset about it, actually saying the words with a cheery grin plastered on his face. "But I sure hope I get to see you pass the trial first."

"Good luck on that one," Cira rolled her eyes, "I'm lost. I don't even get the objective anymore. I've ran all sorts of tests, and I don't think there's anything left to comprehend. Just how the hell am I supposed to pass this one?"

Cira took a moment to vent since the old man seemed willing to listen, but he only laughed.

"I don't think all the tests in the world will help you. You know many have passed without a speck of aura to their name?" He slapped her on the shoulder, "Tell me, what tests do you think they tried?"

Cira's eyes went wide. He's right… Has everything I've done so far been pointless? I'm probably looking at it all wrong.

"But they had to have done something, right? There's no way the answer is to spend all day playing around like these people," She gestured towards a group of young folk splashing around at the shore.

"I don't think you're wrong… but here's my theory," He leaned in close like he didn't want anyone else to hear, "You know what a spring is, what it does. That parts easy if you've spent enough time in the village or studied the sky elsewhere. But why this spring? Why is it the second trial? And because it is, what does that tell us about the Archive? These are the questions we need to answer."

Cira may still have been right about one thing. She wasn't equipped to answer any of those questions, especially so without the ability to read.

"You know, maybe you're onto something, Old Man." She gave him a smile and thought about how to view this spring in a different light. Fitzgeralt had stressed the importance of finding a different perspective, after all, "You've given me a lot to think about. Thank you."

"Anytime." He returned the smile and started scouting out spots to sit along the shore, "It's Cira, right? Come find me any time if you need something."

Well, at least I have one friend here.

Destria didn't really count, but that sure was one wise old man. Cira was starting to like him.

Okay, I need a different perspective. Since I got here, I've just been observing the spring, and relying on methods I've known my whole life to investigate it. Nothing has returned so much as a smidge of comprehension beyond what I already knew, and that clearly isn't enough.

It was known now to Cira that different perspectives could be obtained by doing things she normally wouldn't do or doing things she wasn't used to. In other words, outside of her comfort zone.

And what was the pinnacle of comfort? According to the wisdom she garnered up to the point she landed on Icarus, maximum comfort could be achieved by resting her body to the utmost. That bed in Nymphus came to mind. It was only recently that she had begun to truly appreciate a well-rested mind.

The next stop in her thought process was naturally, what if I abandon both?

In a stroke of inspiration, Cira allowed herself to dissolve into water, spreading out through the lake. Then she did her best to stop thinking. Only the gentle breeze rippling the waves and warm sunlight filled her mind, and she focused fully on the world around her. Rather, she decided to experience the world as the spring lake would. As water would.

Eliza would have to count her absent tomorrow, and perhaps for a while longer. Cira didn't intend to rescind her liquid form until she received her second mark.