Journey Through the Sandy Plains

Progressing safely along a wide stretch of sand dotted occasionally by patches of kelp, Camellia had the chance to finally think. Damos had tried to start a conversation a few times, but Camellia cut him short with brief responses and a distant tone that told him now wasn’t the time. Without the imminent danger of monsters or a conversation to uphold, Camellia was now able to more closely and accurately examine her emotions.

She didn’t like what she found. She had originally attributed the feeling to the reincarnation and the panic of being skewered by a fish thirty times her size, but with every step she took closer to The Bed, the stranger she felt. Breathing water wasn’t just weird; it felt wrong to her. Like some intangible part of her being — her soul, if you want — was in the wrong place.

Camellia hated that. She craved the feeling of comfort she was used to when she was underwater. In her old life as Scarlett, the ocean had been a refuge, a place of respite away from the pain of society. The fish in the reef had been her best friends.

Animals were much easier than people, Camellia felt. All the fish, the corals, the prawns and plankton — none of them judged her. You didn’t have to prove yourself to them. Marine life harbored no expectations for you whatsoever. Nothing to fall short of. The world under the waves had been her safest place, which made her summary rejection from The Institute quite painful.

The rejection. The letter. The fire. Scarle— Sorry, Camellia had had no time to process it, having been thrust into this new liquid realm and immediately into the jaws of danger. As she followed Damos across the sandy steppe, she fiddled absentmindedly with the crusted dagger she had found earlier, lamenting the moments before her death.

A house fire. Really? What a sad way to go. Never mind that, even— what about Mom? There’s so much I should have told her. I’m a terrible daughter. I never even got to tell her about… that.

What is “that,” Camellia? Don’t be shy in your own thoughts, here. Now I’m curious.

I bet that’s a part of why she thought I was a disaster.

Camellia’s mother, of course, never thought she was a disaster. In fact, she had been distraught by her daughter’s disappearance after the first rejection. But when Camellia wouldn’t pick up the phone, she never had a chance to contact her outside of the letters that remained unopened.

Just another thing I messed up. Add it to the list. Never told Mom, never got to say goodbye, never told her I loved her. And now she’s gone. Well, I guess now I’m gone, too. Poor Dad.

Her thoughts continued like this for some time. I don’t want to make you miserable, too, so I’ll spare you any further details. Why don’t we look at the scenery instead, Obbie?

The plains extended for a great distance. There was an incline, ever so slight, that inched the two of them closer to the surface, still at least 40 meters above, with every step. Beneath their feet, the white sand rose and fell in miniature dunes, mirroring the tide overhead. Aside from that and a few rocks, there really wasn’t much to look at. A strange noise would echo from far away in the depths here and there, and the sound of the ocean water itself moving around them kept them from total silence.

Hmm, what else? Ah, how about the man in front of her! I haven’t told you what he looks like yet. With confident strides, Camellia’s new… acquaintance led the way back to The Bed. He had sandals on, the kind you might see an ancient warrior wear. Speaking of, his entire garb followed that same philosophy. Sporting bracers on his wrists and ankles, Damos looked fit to fight in a colosseum. He had a kind of short half-skirt on — I’m not very well read concerning armor, so I’ve no idea what to call it — that covered his backside. A tight blueish top protected his chest, or it would have if it had fully covered him. Instead, it slung over one shoulder like a toga, leaving the defined muscles along his right side open to the air. It was made of some animal skin, I imagine. He had a belt or two, as well.

Notably, his form was entirely human, just like Camellia. No fishy anatomy to be found, at least not on his body. His clothing did have hints of it here and there, but it was likely a product of the material’s source.

His swordfish weapon was nowhere to be found, however. Camellia hadn’t noticed it, but soon after the two of them bolted away from the leviathan, his sword had shimmered and faded away into bright blue mist. Magical in nature, it manifested by his command.

Oh, look, you can see some buildings in the distance there. Has Camellia noticed yet?

Camellia still wallowed in the throes of misery, unaware that their destination was now within view. Luckily, Damos pointed it out to her, interrupting her spiraling.

“Camellia, check it out! That ahead is the outskirts of The Bed.” He paused, then chuckled. “Heh, that rhymed.”

She looked up from the ground. There, drawing ever closer as they walked, stood a series of small stone huts in the midst of a small seagrass meadow. The sandy steppe came to an end, gradually splotched with patches of short greenery here and there.

Seagrass! The beginning of a real ecosystem, finally! Are there any herbivorous animals nearby? She scanned around. As she trained her eyes on the grass slowly appearing around her, small crabs, shrimp, and scallops emerged from the blades.

Of course! This is the beginning of a real habitat for them. Not herbivores, but a good sign for the foundation of a food chain, nonetheless. We’ll probably see tons more as we get closer. Being around marine life filled Camellia with excitement, distracting her from her painful train of thought from earlier. Maybe I could hope to see a few sea turtles soon, too.

But Camellia, dear, you didn’t even look at the buildings. Are those not interesting, too?

Trudging closer to the huts, she finally took a glance at them. They reminded her of old historical ruins with their walls of large, dark stones and simple architecture. She didn’t know much about human history, so she couldn’t place them. To Camellia, the more interesting parts were the small corals growing on the sides of the rectangular homes, giving the dark grayish-black exterior a vibrant splash of color.

They arrived at a small village, stepping onto a path made out of the same blackened stone as the building walls. A man, another regular human — were there even any fish people down here? — opened one of the doors and stepped outside. The door was made of regular old wood, as far as Camellia could tell, though it certainly looked like it had been underwater for a long while. How the hell do they have wood down here? Maybe from the island?

Before Camellia could wonder any longer, the man bellowed a greeting to the two. “Damos! You’ve returned! Anything? And who’s the fine woman?”

Camellia covered herself again, remembering her scant rags of clothing and how Damos had stared.

Damos happily returned, “You betcha, Phineas. Here.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a few small metal objects. Coins? They looked silver. Damos continued, “Your share.”

What on earth is this all about?

Phineas laughed, “A good day today, eh? I can always count on you. The girl, though?”

“Ah, right,” Damos looked back at Camellia, still protecting herself. “She was just out in the Crags by herself, with nothing on her.” He turned back to the jolly old man. “I was actually hoping you might have a spare tunic or something for her?”

The man considered Damos for a moment, then scratched his chin. “I suppose Euph might have some old ones lying around. Let me go check.” He spun around, heading back inside his simple abode.

Damos turned to Camellia, then blushed and looked away. “Sorry. I figured you might want something with a little more… cloth.”

The unexpected softness from the warrior man surprised Camellia. She nodded. Perhaps he’s not so bad after all.

Shortly thereafter, Phineas returned with a large cream-colored shirt, which Camellia gratefully accepted. With Damos’ suspicious deal complete, and Camellia’s privacy secure, the two said a short goodbye to Phineas and set off again, towards the cluster of rock and color off in the distance. It was time to go to the city.