Wren still kept the revelation of the dome to himself, not wanting to raise any suspicions of his sanity or source of information even if believed. That morning after leaving his shift, he searched for Clea. In reality this was not difficult to accomplish, he had simply avoided it for the last few days. He had a close connection to Roram and Clea not only because they grew up together. Their Keige were connected. In a sense, these facts were one in the same. The only way to have a connection like this was to grow up in the same Summit. And these three families had been in the same Summit for thousands of years. His Keige sensed her, to which he felt the words in his head “About time” appear before him like an internal voice.

They met at Cisticola, a long time renowned diner owned by the family of the same name. Sitting down, Wren wasn’t sure where to begin, so he told her everything. The research of old keys, his travels, the legends, how he and Pip met. It had been some time since he had last released his thoughts, intentions, and actions to someone else. They had long been trapped inside where he thought they belonged. That is until their hideaway hurt someone he cared about. Even then it was difficult to simply release it all at the twist of a key. So, as it usually descended, he sat quietly until Clea’s long stare and act of silence knew his game was up. He had put himself willingly in this position, he remembered. It always took this type of cornering to release his thoughts, whether good or evil.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me before,” she said. “You told Roram but not me. You hid these parts away even from your Keige so I could not see. I don’t believe it is nearly as dangerous as you make it out to be. Sapiens are allowed to go anywhere, research anything, and do anything that they please. You thought you were protecting but you only hurt. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, of course I do,” He responded, knowingly leaving his intimate feelings for her locked away, with every intention of throwing away the key. He still could not release all of his deepest emotions, even in a moment of rebuke and exposure.

She looked at him, knowing he did not answer the question and would not. So she left it alone. In the cafè were many kinds of people, all with their own stories, filled with tragedies and successes alike. They would keep these stories private, dispelling them only to those worthy or listening. To those they loved. To this, she looked at Wren, curiously questioning who he was. Who he was becoming.

“You are forgetting Pip. Who knows what would happen if he were to be found.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The whole rivalry between Sapiens and Udo is so overblown. I am sure if you brought him to the council they would be very accepting to escort him back.”

“He can’t go back, Clea. he has no home. I don’t believe he is safe here.” He lowered his voice. “He told me something I have never heard. About our home. About us.”

“Okay, then out with it,” she responded with interest. She was happy to finally be entrusted with some information.

“Have you heard of a geodesic dome?” He looked around, observing the other patrons and their potential attentiveness to his words. “We are in one now,” he spoke in a lowered voice.

She took a motion back from leaning in. “No, I don’t know what that is. In one now? Like a bubble?”

“I don’t know much myself, but Pip knew what it was and he saw it. Coming in.”

“And you believe him? But really, so what if this ‘dome’ is real? In theory if no one has known about it for centuries, it has done no harm to us. Knowledge isn’t always power, Wren.”

“It’s about the secrecy,” he shot back. “One falsehood and you begin to think. It only takes one. Is it to keep others out, or us in?”

“Or maybe it is to protect us from something that happened to the earth’s atmosphere. It is an old planet, who knows what could have happened. A dome makes more sense now that you have told it. As to why it has been kept secret, it’s probably to have our life feel more organic. It’s protection, I don’t see what the problem is.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Wren was a bit shocked at her complacency. This was not how he expected her to react. Or maybe this news wasn’t as shocking as his mind had initially interpreted it.

“What if I wanted to leave,” he said after a moment.

“Leave? Visit the island again? Travel further east?”

“Take Pip home. He offered the chance to go. Him and I.”

The look that traveled over her face gave away her response. “You can’t make such drastic conclusions based on opinions you don’t subscribe to, Wren. I’m sorry you don’t see it the same way I do. That doesn’t mean you have to leave.”

But it wasn’t because of her response. It had contributed of course, but only to confirm that this was one of many instances that affirmed he no longer felt the need to reside here. Him finding Pip had been the point of discovery, of adventure, of a new potential. Here, a different potential had always existed. It was one he no longer wanted to hold.

“You’re right. That was drastic. I just care for Pip and want to see his journey through. He can’t stay here.” He leaned back in the chair then, his arms crossing his chest as he breathed out. “So what would you have me do?”

“Let’s get help,” she said, her countenance now changing. “I can help you. Roram can help you. Together we can go to the Talons, maybe even the lord himself. This is unprecedented, what we have here. A real Udo.”

Wren gave her what she wanted with every intention of not betraying himself. “Of course. let me talk to Pip first, gather my thoughts. Please,” he gently touched her arm, “keep all of this between us for now.”

“I can, just don’t go off radar for days again. I worry about you.” She paused, thinking. “Remember what you used to tell me? It is better to be cradled by the comfort of what we know than strangled by the darkness of what could be. Did you ever believe that?”

“I still do,” he said, hoping not to reveal his true intentions.

“Good. Then we will meet with Roram about all of this and get Pip the help he needs. Reach out to me as soon as you can.” Roram and I will help, she kept saying to him, to reinforce in his mind that they were on his side.

“And you won’t speak of this to Aleth?” He added

“Wren, you said no one. I won’t.”

He twisted the self-inflicted knife whenever he mentioned the name, but he had to reinforce, to be certain. The act drew up glimpses across his mind. Memories he wished to erase from his Keige. The sight of Clea saying the words. Longingly gazing into Aleth Crane’s eyes. The additional burning of the left hand to signify their forever bond. The scars danced from the palm, around the ring finger, and twisted at the back. Where the imprint of the Keige resided, now the marital one did as well. This was but a scar for her. It was an ever gaping wound for Wren, beginning to knit its way shut after a period only to be ripped open again at the sight of her hand. At the thought of her dark hair flowing as she walked toward Aleth. A good man, but it wasn’t Wren. The black, neatly groomed hair, complete with a full beard and brown eyes. It was the furthest from him. And she was Clea Crane.

“Wren, where did you go?” She asked.

To a far away shore. One I’ve never visited, never seen, could never imagine. It existed in a realm of beauty and tranquility. It was a respite for pain.

“The same place I always am. Here,” he said in average tones.

Clea glanced down at her palm, seeing the imprint of her Keige. This was the reminder of who they were, to whom they owed their allegiance. It was a mark that granted them freedom from ordinary life to one of ecstasy. Clea had visions of terror that befell those without such a mark, or those that once held it but now despised it. For those, the mark was a scar. The cross it would now bear over the original imprint would forever remind them of the outcome they had chosen. They chose isolation, to be surrounded by the brutalities of the world. The Hierarchy could create a safe haven, but they could not wrestle with certain realities. And they absolutely could not force a wielder to enjoy the life given. Why they would ever need to was a perplexity. To that end, Clea felt comfort.

“You know,” she started. “Aleth and I have been approved for the Hatchling program. Our genetic codes align with a need in the south zone.”

Wren continued sitting and staring, forgetting to react to such promising news.

“Clea that’s… that’s incredible. A little one to call your own. That doesn’t seem to happen so often these days. What was the need?” He then looked away from her face as if ashamed to continue gazing upon it. It revealed far too much.

“Oh, Wren,” she began. For her immediate surroundings, all was right, its meaning discernible. It wasn’t confusing, but soul stirring. For Wren, his world was ending as hers was beginning. The sting of realization made its way through his skin upon hearing news of life. Joy from the news of life that his parents would have experienced as he began to make his way into the world. Pain that would follow from that same world as it repaid them for what they gave it. He didn’t wish for Clea to experience such pain. None of the Sapiens deserved cruelty.

“Any name ideas yet?” He asked after the stillness.

“None yet. But we have a few family names to toss around depending on the sex. Listen,” she continued. “I am always here for you. We are always here for you. The world is dark, and we are the light. We are the cradle.”