Page 26 of Cerban
A sphere – half metal, half coral – sat embedded in the cave floor. It was the size of a boulder, its surface smooth and curved except where living coral had fused into it, spiralling upward in delicate ridges. Light pulsed faintly within, the same rhythm as the bubbles.
It was breathing.
I drifted closer, torchlight sliding across the strange surface. The metallic parts gleamed with a dull, opalescent sheen, but the coral was translucent, its tendrils pulsing with faint bioluminescent light. The whole thing gave off a quiet hum, like the soft thrum of an engine – or a heartbeat.
Cerban was by my side, a protective, cautious presence. I knew letting me enter the cave first had to have been difficult for him. I'd tell him later how much I appreciated it. I was jealous of his ability to talk underwater. Right now, I would have loved to discuss what stood before us.
I couldn’t look away. This wasn’t just geology or biology. It was both, merged into something utterly alien.
I reached out a hand before I could think better of it.
But this time, Cerban stopped me, his fingers clasping around my wrist.
"Don't. I think I know what this is. Let me."
I was very tempted to ignore him, but this thing was clearly not of human origin, so I had to admit that Cerban likely knew more about it than me.
He carefully pressed a hand to the top of the sphere, then moved it in a figure of eight shape, slowly and with purpose. The flow of bubbles ceased. It was as if the cave was holding its breath, waiting for what was to come.
"There!" Cerban exclaimed with a jubilant grin. "I was right."
A circle of symbols appeared on the sphere's metal surface, glowing softly. They made no sense to me, but Cerban studied them intently. He touched one - and suddenly the cave was drenched in fluorescent light, illuminating every crevice, every pebble on the floor.
"This language is not one I can read or speak, but it still makes sense to me," he explained. "It must be related to our modern language. And this symbol... yes, that will make things easier."
He touched another part of the sphere. A host of bubbles rose from where coral met metal, small ones first, then larger ones. A silver film covered the sphere - no, not silver. It was air. The bubble expanded, beyond the machine, growing fast. I flinched when it reached me, but then cool, dry air kissed my skin, and I froze in astonishment. Water was being pushed out of the cave. I sank to the ground, no longer swimming.
It only took a few seconds for the air bubble to fill the entire room. I stared at Cerban, who was just as wide-eyed as I must have looked. I pointed at my regulator.
His gills fluttered for a moment as he tested the air, then he breathed in deep through his mouth. "It's safe. The oxygen concentration is very much like it is on the surface. You can remove your breathing equipment, but I would keep it close by. I'm not sure how long this will last."
I gingerly took the regulator from my mouth, then yawned and pursed my lips, stretching my mouth muscles. The air smelled a little metallic, but it was barely noticeable.
"What's happening?" I asked. My voice echoed through the cave.
"This device seems like an early version of those we use back on Finfolkaheem to create air rooms underwater. While many finfolk prefer to live in water at all times, some like to have parts of their homes filled with air. Some farming is done on the surface or in huge air domes on the ocean floor. Half of the chambers in the Archives, where Fionn used to work, are air rooms, to protect artefacts that would not survive in water."
I looked around me, searching for anything that looked different now that the water had disappeared.
"Why is it in this cave? Is there something that needs air?"
"I don't know," Cerban admitted. "But this is not the device's only function. I think this symbol... yes."
Turquoise light rippled outward from the core, racing along the metallic veins in the walls until the entire chamber glowed.
Shapes appeared within the light. Faint, ghostlike projections that shimmered in the water like memories caught in a dream. I blinked hard, heart pounding.
Figures.
Two of them. A tall, broad form with long fins trailing from his arms and back – finfolk. And beside him, smaller, with flowing hair and human limbs. They swam close together, hands entwined.
I forgot to breathe.
The vision flickered, the light dimming before flaring again – this time showing more of them. Dozens of pairs, finfolk and humans walking side by side through air-filled halls, their movements graceful, familiar, harmonious.
I turned slowly, trying to take it all in. The images danced along the walls, accompanied by a low, resonant hum that I felt in my bones.
"It's a memory orb," Cerban whispered. "I've only ever heard whispers of them. I did not expect to find one here."
