Page 1 of The Cerulean Sister
Chapter
One
“When First Mother laid her celestial head down to slumber, she did not go alone."
I run my finger over the words in the Viathan edition of a familiar book, uniform and boxy. I know it well, but I do not remember this passage from the version I have read.
Being in the Viathan library, around the smell of old books, has brought such comfort since arriving. Parts of it look like the Estate’s in the way it is organized with larger wooden bookcases, but the beautiful woodwork dovetails into metal fixtures. Stone walls are connected to doors that look like August’s ship, the surfaces unnaturally smooth, corners too sharp.
Where oak tables and chairs for study would be arranged in Cosima's library, here they are replaced by humming machines, inscribing copies of ancient books, delicately flipping the pages and scanning the words that appear on the accompanying data pad. Knowledge is copied to perfection and cataloged within a single day, something that would have taken me weeks with Mary.
I fight against the urge to compare this world to mine, but every tiny detail reminds me of how different it truly is.
The small lamp on my table flickers in a strange imitation of a flame, gifted to me when I requested candles to read with. The Viathan archivists almost jumped out of their strange robes when I asked for one, stating they were primitive and the soot would damage the books.
Primitivewas the word 99 latched onto as he held one by the collar in warning for daring to insult me.
The haze that formed in my head was still thick then, a comforting buffer of my subconscious mind, protecting me after what happened when we left Cosima. It dug its heels in until the shock of seeing all the new things on Viathan wore off. Everything was overwhelming. I am almost grateful for that fogged state that lasted weeks and cushioned the strange acclimation to my new life here.
After the candle incident with 99, the library has been mostly empty and quiet during the day when the archivists know I am in here. I have spoken with them and tried to smooth over the rough introduction. In truth, I prefer it this way; the content, lonely feeling of a library is soothing.
Well, it’s empty enough.
I pause and watch one of the two Viathan guards 99 has appointed to me make another patrolling lap around the spacious room. Machine-like arms that dust the shelves retract and make themselves scarce when the guards’ movement is detected. My second guard stands just behind me, staying close and whispering nonsense into his wrist comm periodically.
Both wear traditional Viathan armor and helmets, even in the tranquil library. The hundreds of Viathan soldiers were the first thing I noticed in the docking bay when we arrived. Their only discernible differences are the ranks and names presented at the top of their breastplates.
When the soldiers are promoted to commanders, they wear their helmets nonstop to show their devotion to Viathan. Only 99, the highest-ranking commander, and the lord general have the privilege to remove it in the presence of others.
Just days ago, 99 received word that the Lord General of Viathan, his direct superior and the only rank above him, would be in the capital to discuss a possible attack by First Son’s followers on the other side of Viathan. With both the 99th Commander and the Lord General in the same building, naturally the security has been upped.
99 all but begged me to let him assign guards to me while he attends to his official duties and the even more time-consuming council meetings. The news did not trouble me as much as it did him. I am not nearly as afraid of First Son’s followers as I still am of the temple coming for me, and I am used to the guards on the Estate stationed every few feet. At least the guards here talk to me.
“Commander Wesley?” I call out.
“Yes, Priestess Ferren?” Commander Wesley is easy company, his voice coming out gentle and calm through his helmet. He shifts on his feet, waiting for my reply like he was accidentally standing too casually and is correcting himself.
“Could you turn this on for me? I want to access Cosima's version of this edition."
I gently wave the open book in the air to him and scoot in my hard metal chair as he presses a sequence of buttons on the flat table, bringing up a digital archive of the Estate library.
His helmet glances back and forth as he types in the title. "Here it is."
"Thank you," I say and reluctantly scroll through the oversized data pad, which still makes me feel like I am doing something forbidden whenever I touch it.
The archivists have limited physical copies of books from Cosima, most having been scanned in by the humming library machines. When I asked 99 how they possessed such books, that not even I had access to in the Estate, he could not answer. He genuinely did not know, and when I tried to speak with the archivists, they all but danced around the questions nervously.
I've asked Commander Wesley for help on many occasions with the strange, shiny screens in this room, ones in place of the arduous card catalogs I am familiar with. The convenience and brevity of many things here tend to smooth over the damning whispers I hear using them. Guilt is ever present in my mind, telling me I am wicked for using such technologies and how easily sins become commonplace.
But they are just whispers, and they are not mine, only leftover voices from days of rehearsed prayer and shame.
I make a note of each word that has been changed in Cosima's book and the tightly bound Viathan edition, likely not by hand but by machine, the paper too crisp, cut sharp and uniform. I wish I had my own collection to compare the texture to, but the real differences are inside. What I believed to be a number of typos within a familiar book on Cosima are not typos at all.
It was a hunch at first, and now I’ve made it my mission to find the reason for their alterations. I’ve figured out the different words chosen are consistent and intentional. Minor changes here and there or some passages with the meaning changed, even by a single word choice.
The thought of reading the Viathan one first and believing it to be true and then reading the same version in a Cosima translation is enough to make someone spin off their axis. It's fascinating, teetering on forbidden even, but I can't stop finding the little things in these books that make our two worlds the same yet so incredibly different.
"What is black selenite?" I ask, noticing another difference.
