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Sovereign City-State: The Library
17th Day of Month 6, Year 1628 DG
The writing stops and the light dies. Unisa’s gaze locks on a long letter now sitting on the page. A signature rests at the bottom, above a title in small print.
“Hay-Ro,” Unisa whispers. “Head Salver to the Red-Lo Royal Dynasty.” She lifts the fragile text, as if bringing it closer to her face will make it easier to understand.
Or easier to believe.
Hay-Ro’s letter has no salutation. Unisa wonders who the intended reader is. She feels an inexplicable connection to the words, as if he is standing in front of her, pouring his heart out.
The only honest words in this text are the ones you are now reading. If you can see this, you’ve revealed the truth of “the Everlasting Journey.” Everything written before this page has been toiled over and labored upon for weeks and months. It is manufactured to tell a story that will live on for ages, though it drips with everlasting deceit.
Red-Lo’s duplicity knows no limit. Chapter by chapter, page by page, word by word, he sullies the good name of the most wonderful faerie I have ever known. My greatest regret is, and forever shall be, my silence. I watched idly as he inscribed these filthy fabrications. I beg the Four for forgiveness. One day, when the time is right, all will be revealed. On that day, my atonement shall be complete.
Here are the truths that Red-Lo has draped with deceit: Drof-Fa’s campaign for the throne was not out of a penchant for violence, but a command from Red-Lo. Drof-Fa did not shirk her responsibility as MegaMother, rather she assumed every duty of the throne as Red-Lo chose his mad search for immortality over his kingdom and his marriage. Drof-Fa had no desire for it, yet Red-Lo demanded she accompany him on the Everlasting Journey.
And here, dear Discoverer, is the most heartbreaking fabrication of the entire tale: Red-Lo did not return from the journey in anguish over the loss of his wife. He was bewildered, out of his wits. He could barely stand and labored to take a single breath. His clothes were torn to shreds and much of his skin was tattered with deep burns. He was covered in soot and ash. He whispered to himself about how they took the MegaMother from him. Once he became lucid again, I asked him over and over, “Who are they? Who took the MegaMother’s life?”
He denied ever having said any of it. He continued to insist that the MegaMother lost her life after falling from the top of a mountain. Only a handful of us heard the truth upon his return. I am the only one left and I’m afraid I’m not sure how much longer I have. If he senses even the slightest bit of disloyalty in me, if he finds this entry before you do, my life will be over.
If you’ve found this, if you’ve revealed the truth, tell everyone. The MegaMother of SunSide was not a violent usurper. She was not a lazy queen. She was not a mad faerie.
She was murdered. And she deserved better than the husband who soiled her image to guard his own. Who defiled SunSide’s history to save his own face.
Find out who did it. Avenge the MegaMother. End the lies.
Hay-Ro
Head Salver of the Red-Lo Royal Dynasty
Unisa steps backward as if the letter has pushed her. Sweat collects on her brow as her breath catches in her throat. Frantically, her eyes dart across the page, hoping for the words to change, or a disclaimer to appear at the end stating that it was all a joke. A prank.
It can’t be. This is the Library. Nothing is fabricated. It’s history, as it happened. As it was recorded.
Unisa drops heavily into a seat. The integrity of the Library’s record-keeping is more than just an oath of employment. Day in and day out, the Librarians devote their lives to it.
A haze blankets her mind as the scope of Hay-Ro’s allegation dawns on her. SunSide’s history, as described in this text, has been taught to generations of children around the continent. For centuries. The Everlasting Journey is a pivotal moment that set the kingdom on a course for technological and scientific revolution.
Could it be a lie?
“It can’t be,” she says softly, trying to reason with herself. As if the words will stop the world from spinning around her, she buries her face in her hands and whispers, “The Fully Bonded believe. The Fully Bonded believe.”
They believe in the history guarded within the Catacombs, as written. Accepting Hay-Ro’s claims isn’t merely disapproved—it’s sacrilege. It’s criminal.
Unable to breathe, she tries to inhale, but the room continues to spin and the vegetable stew and grilled lamb bubble back up her throat.
A chime steals her attention and allows her to focus on something other than the impending return of her meals. The clock on the wall with the four lit circles cries out. It’s late. Unisa reaches for the delicate text and closes it. She grabs a small hide bag from under the desk and places the book into it, carrying it down the hallway to the platform, and out of Witness with her.
Sorry, Maksi, she thinks as the platform ascends. I can’t let it out of my sight anymore.
She exits onto the street, still in a daze until a hand falls on her shoulder and wrenches her out of it.
“There you are,” Rafael says. “I was starting to worry, Uni.”
Unisa had completely forgotten about her plans to meet Rafael for dinner. He’s wearing his gold Gatekeeper tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearm fins. An empty quiver sits on his back.
“I’m so sorry, Rafa,” she responds sincerely. “I just got caught up in something.”
Her wavering tone betrays her distress. Rafael takes her hand gently and holds it in both of his. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, it’s fine.” She forces a smile, then lifts her face toward his to initiate their usual greeting. He smiles back and leans down, placing his left cheek against Unisa’s and giving her a gentle kiss. He then repeats this with the right.
She wraps her hands around his bicep, holding his arm as they walk to their usual dinner destination. “How was your archery course?” She attempts to feign a normal conversation to disguise the panic setting in.
Rafael laughs. “It’s not a course, Uni. They just asked for help with their aim. Just a little practice, that’s all.”
“Mm-hmm,” Unisa responds, taking in little of Rafael’s reply as the gravity of Hay-Ro’s letter continues to weigh on her.
He stops and turns to her. “Uni, if you’re not well, we can reschedule. Let me take you to Ora’s so she can look after you.”
“No, Rafa, I’m fine. Truly.” She can think of nothing less appealing than showing up with him on Ora’s doorstep, for her mother to question the nature of their friendship. They continue forth as she resolves to shove Hay-Ro’s letter to the back of her mind.
At least, as much as she is able to.
Not far from Kura’s, their usual dinner spot is a larger restaurant with seating around the stall. Rafael, a human of the mari clan, asks to eat here frequently, as it specializes in cuisine from SeaBed. Unisa agrees every time because she enjoys participating in any mari tradition, like their greeting, that helps him feel anchored to home.
Seated at a familiar table, Rafael continues talking about his archery session. Unisa loses herself in the discussion, particularly in Rafael’s excitement. Pushing Hay-Ro’s letter away becomes easier when Rafael’s passion lights up the conversation.
He’s had a knack for melting away her concerns since they met, eight years earlier, only days after his arrival at the Library. His vibrant smile remains until he hears footsteps and turns to see the waiter approaching their table.
“I didn’t know he was working today,” he says to Unisa.
“It doesn’t matter, Rafa,” Unisa says. A cloud of tension envelops them as Rafael’s smile drops and he goes quiet. The igni waiter welcomes them and pours water into their glasses. He asks them if they’d like to place an order.
“We’ll have our usual tapas, thank you,” Unisa says. “Is that alright, Rafa?” She and the waiter turn to Rafael, who is sitting silently, his eyes transfixed on the exoskeleton of the waiter’s fingers. Unisa reaches forward and places her hand gently on Rafael’s, shaking him from the trance.
Rafael’s eyes widen and his cheeks go red when he sees the waiter’s confusion. “Sorry. Yes, that’s fine. And mosto, please.”
“Mosto?” Unisa questions, hoping to pull his attention from the waiter’s exoskeleton. “What about sangría?”
Rafael shakes his head. “Sangría is for summer, Uni.”
The waiter smiles politely and walks back to the restaurant. Rafael runs his fingers over the bracelet on his left wrist. It’s silver with blue gemstones set into the links. Unisa waits until the waiter’s out of earshot before she speaks.
“You still see it?” she asks. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you lost like that. I thought maybe you’d gotten past it.”
Rafael doesn’t speak, keeping his eyes lowered.
“Rafa, it’s been eight years now. It’s time to get some help. There’s no shame in it.”
Rafael raises his gaze. “I don’t need help. I just need to keep a distance from them.” There’s venom in his tone.
“There are igni all over the Library, Rafa. You can’t avoid them forever.”
Rafael takes one of the bracelet links between two fingers and holds it tightly. “You know I’m not going to make peace with them.”
Unisa sighs. “The war is over, Rafa. It’s been over six yea—”
“So I should just forget?” he interrupts her. “I see blood, Uni. On their hands. On their exoskeletons. Coming out of their eyes.” His voice cracks. “Her blood.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I don’t care if six centuries have passed. It isn’t over. Not for me. I won’t forget.”
“You don’t have to forget. But you do have to try to move forward. You deserve peace and happiness and love. You deserve a future where you aren’t stuck with this hatred in your heart.” Unisa looks into his eyes, pinpointing the loss deep within. Even in their happiest moments together, it lingers.
Rafael exhales deeply. “There isn’t a future for everyone, Uni. There’s nothing after exile.”
“There’s redemption.” She leans forward and lovingly runs her fingers over the bracelet on his wrist. “Isn’t that what Joaquina would have wanted for you?”
Rafael jerks his hand backward so Unisa’s no longer touching Joaquina’s bracelet. The angi realizes she’s crossed a boundary and regrets what she said.
“I think we should stop the conversation here,” Rafael says sternly.
Unisa nods apologetically and they both sit in tense silence for a few minutes, until their meals and drinks arrive. Rafael’s smile doesn’t return until lighter conversations resume and his piscine nares take in the nostalgic aromas of the mixed olives, cheeses, and seafood.
After dinner, she holds Rafael’s arm again and walks with him to his entrance to the Stream Network.
“I hope you're feeling better,” he says.
Unisa had completely forgotten about Hay-Ro’s letter. The worry invades her heart again, but she carefully tucks it away.
“Much better,” she responds with a smile. Rafael dives into the Stream and departs. The entire flight back to her apartment, Unisa’s mind is abuzz with questions about the letter and what it could mean for her...and for the Library.
If the details of the Everlasting Journey are false, anything else in the Catacombs can be. This letter opens up the possibility of lies within the Library. A city built on history and truth, peddling centuries of fabrication around the continent.
There is no redemption from that.