Chapter LXXI

Some Good Apples

Growing up in the influential circles of Malkuth, Adriaas never saw her beauty as anything extraordinary. She was just another face among many stunning and talented individuals. But as she matured into her late teens, she began to appreciate her features more, finding a sense of confidence in her natural allure. Her silver eyes, unmodified in a world obsessed with body enhancements, became her most prized attribute.

Adriaas, tall like her father and curvaceous like her mother, started to revel in her appearance. Gazing at herself in the mirror turned into a daily highlight, filled with newfound self-assurance.

Initially, she planned to train as a Gevuritah, pushed by her parents' strong opinions. Yet, when she realized the immense physical effort it required, she dismissed it as a waste of time. She then flirted with the idea of becoming a Hodenis, only to find that it too wasn't her calling. Feeling suffocated by her family's influence, Adriaas yearned to carve a path far from her father's shadow and the rigid expectations of the Binah.

After her fight with Annevan and relocating to Treinta y Tres full time, Adriaas found solace in solitude, a refreshing change after years under her father’s domineering presence. Her relationship with her father turned cold after she revealed her true feelings about him. Despite her family's attempts at reconciliation, she remained distant after almost four years.

At least thirty of her many half-siblings, most of whom she barely tolerated, tried in vain to make her see her supposed errors. Even Zeban had made an effort before ultimately distancing himself from both her and their mother.

Adriaas refused to forgive her father until he acknowledged and amended his societal wrongdoings.

Society's blindness toward Annevan had estranged her further from it. She discussed Annevan only with her trusted half-siblings, Wynden and Elnara, who she originally thought were her aunt and uncle due to their significant age difference and their father’s lies.

Facing a personal crisis after discarding the pursuit of becoming a trainee of the Hod, Adriaas struggled to find her purpose. Yet, plans to meet Wynden and Elnara, now close friends, provided her some comfort.

While life in Treinta y Tres, where she lived with Ginebra and her boyfriend, Ykenas, in a beautiful domus outside the city, was far from boring, Adriaas had an insatiable desire to explore. She, along with her half-siblings, planned a trip to Dubrovnik, an ancient city in Croatia, famed for its preservation efforts and medieval architecture. Their plans had been in the making for months, and anticipation was high as the departure neared. Only a limited number of visitors were allowed daily to maintain the integrity of the city’s medieval architecture, which was fortified by an imposing wall, reason why the reservation for their visit was made four months earlier.

Centuries before Adriaas's birth, Dubrovnik had been one of many cities lost to rising sea levels. But technological advances and the rise of homo synthesicus sparked a global revolution, eventually stabilizing the planet's climate and allowing submerged cities to be recovered and protected.

On the day of the trip, Elnara was supposed to meet Adriaas at her mother’s domus but had to change plans at the last minute. Undeterred, Adriaas set off alone, curious about the day ahead. The Porterum in Treinta y Tres, though smaller than others like the Epeculum, had its unique charm, its walls adorned with intricate geometric designs.

The crystalline stagnum had an aquamarine hue, and its atmosphere brought a sense of calm to Adriaas. Like most structures grown with the hands of Binah, it featured a sensational coffee shop. Adriaas enjoyed spending afternoons there, immersed in 120th century book narrated by Ion, her kabbalah. It was a craving of hers that often led on quests to antique libraries across Malkuth.

That morning, Adriaas greeted Kenit, the coffee shop owner and a friend she'd made over many afternoons. "Morning, Miss Adriaas!" he offered his usual warm greeting. “The usual?”

"Morning, Kenit. I've told you, drop the 'miss,'" she replied. “And yes, please and thank you.”

"No can do. You're much younger than me," Kenit insisted, his way of showing respect as he offered her a mixpresso.

"Thank you, Mr. Kenit," she smiled, perceiving the familiar scent. "Your mastery in coffee brewing is truly remarkable."

Kenit handed her another drink in a smaller cup, for tasting. "Try this. If you don't like it, I'll make another, it has an extra twist."

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Taking a sip, Adriaas savored the unique flavor. "Cashew?" she guessed, pleased.

"Exactly! What do you think?" Kenit looked on eagerly.

"Splendid. I might just switch to this version," she winked, taking her coffee to a nearby terrace to enjoy the view of Treinta y Tres—the ingravitas city in Uruguay that had captured her heart.

After savoring the last sip of her cashew-infused mixpresso, Adriaas bid farewell to Kenit. Ion then guided her towards the correct porter, setting her on the path to Dubrovnik. With no direct route available, she journeyed to the colossal Euro Porterum, a grand hub linking all major European cities. Boarding a second Porter, she headed towards Croatia, transitioning to the third and final one, Visoka Dubrovnik. From there, a yellow fishtank shuttled her to a series of stagnums that paid magnificent tribute to the ancient city kilometers under and housed most of its bustling populace.

Adriaas, Elnara, and Wynden had agreed to meet at Tudman Park in the old city. Eager to navigate there, Adriaas turned to her trusted kabbalah. “Ion, guide me, please,” she requested, prompting a holographic screen to materialize before her eyes.

“Of course,” Ion floated beside her. “If you opt for the levitator, we’ll reach the park in just seven minutes. It takes three to reach a fishtank.”

Taking Ion’s insight, Adriaas chose the levitator and headed to the nearest station, eager to relish the breathtaking aerial view of Visoka Dubrovnik, nestled hundreds of meters above the old city. Soaring above the town, the experience was nothing short of awe-inspiring as it was her first time there.

With her reservation code activated, granting access to the preserved city, Adriaas now had a precious twelve hours to immerse herself in its wonders. Dubrovnik, cradled along the coastline, was encircled by a formidable twenty-five-meter wall, constructed over half a century to shield its inhabitants from external threats.

Through Annevan, she had witnessed the awe-inspiring capabilities of the Binah in shaping structures and knew such a wall could be erected in hours with enough skilled members from the Third Sephirah. They could synthesize materials far stronger than stone with their bare hands, making the historical duration required to build such fortifications seem astonishingly long.

The levitator descended, landing amidst a bustling port where countless fishtanks and levitators ferried people from every corner of Malkuth.

Elnara and Wynden awaited her arrival at the Rector’s Palace, a gothic structure from the hundred and fourteenth century HE, now a museum. The joy of seeing their beaming smiles made her heart full, eager to spend a day with them.

Elnara, despite nearing sixty, possessed the timeless beauty of a twenty-seven-year-old. Her long, dark hair, mirroring Adriaas', cascaded down her back, and her captivating night-sky-blue eyes shimmered. Wynden, the family's wildcard, sported bronze hair and fluorescent pink eyes. His striking appearance was accentuated by moving tattoos covering most of his body, his face obscured by a thick beard dusted with ruby powder, glistening like sunlight. His true age was a mystery, but rumors suggested he was nearing a century, though he looked no older than thirty.

“You’re late. Did you stop for coffee?” Wynden teased as Adriaas approached.

“Maybe,” she embraced Elnara. “I’m not the one who changed our meeting location, am I?”

“Touche,” Wynden conceded. “Let’s go. We’re hungry.”

Unaware of their plans, Adriaas asked, “Where are we heading?”

“I’ve made reservations at ‘Dubravka’ for eleven. We’ll have breakfast there,” Elnara led her sister by the arm. With it being 10:30, they had plenty of time for a leisurely walk to the restaurant. “Tunx, lead the way.”

Her kabbalah, a purple cuboctahedron adorned with maroon patterns, holoprojected a map for them to follow. Relieved to find the restaurant nearby, as her stomach growled in anticipation, Adriaas walked alongside them.

“Why did you give up on becoming a Gevurah, little sister?” Wynden inquired, his voice tinged with a nearly imperceptible grudge. “We need people like you.”

Adriaas knew beneath Wynden’s skin, a dormant merkabah awaited its moment. Her older half-sibling had been a member of the Fifth Sephirot for thirty years before she was born, skilled in various fighting styles and known for his logical thinking and dedication to aiding others—all traits that had earned Adriaas’s respect and once inspired her to follow that path.

“Don’t get upset, Wynden. My passion waned the more I trained to become a lethal weapon,” she confessed. “My body can’t handle it. I don’t have the stamina for the physical work it demands.”

As they walked, they admired the city’s fortified walls and stone buildings, the ancient churches and museums more than a thousand years old, feeling as though they were inside a massive castle. They exited through the Vrata od Pila bridge, where a view of Kolorina—a beach nestled between fortresses—offered a perfect spot for a dive.

Being Adriaas's first time there, her kabbalah narrated a brief history of the bridge they crossed. "The original Gate was constructed in 10,972 HC, and the bridge was added in 11,537. It serves as the main entrance to the medieval Old Town. In the past, a wooden drawbridge would be raised to protect the citizens. You can still see the ancient counterweights that were used millennia ago. This entire area was submerged underwater during the great floods, along with the rest of Dubrovnik, until it was restored a few centuries ago."

After crossing the bridge and entering the next fortress, they arrived at 'Dubravka 1836'. Renowned throughout Malkuth as one of the oldest European restaurants still in operation, it buzzed with hundreds of tourists enjoying their breakfast.

****

Thank you for reading! See you in Chapter LXXII - "A Branch of Expression".

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Indigo Sapiens.

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