Life continued the following day. After sating the greatest hunger of its life, the octopus fell back into routine.
Eat.
Sleep.
Eat.
Sleep.
Eat.
Sleep.
Eat…
Sleep……
This continued for an unknown number of days. There was intermittent basking here and there, depending on the weather, and the octopus didn't often stray too far from ho.
Then one morning while grazing for crabs, it saw a rock. One which bore a remarkable resemblance to the last one. Without much thought at all, it extended a tentacle and took hold.
The surface was not far this ti, and the sun didn't seem so hot. Before dark clouds even had a chance to return and bring night back to these seas, there was a second rock on the peak. The octopus tried to place one rock upon the other and quickly found out that wouldn't work.
There was a brief mont of frustration, but this problem was not all-defeating. For a mont it just stared at the two rocks before a hint of a spark appeared in its eyes.
Looking around the island, and beneath its tentacles, so of these rocks were not so different.
It slunk over to the side and extended one more tentacle. Then another.
Nature couldn't explain how the octopus labored beneath the beating light above to bring three more rocks over.
By this ti its skin had certainly burnt, and its body grew tightened. The octopus knew from last ti that it had to return to the water soon but hesitated with one last rock already in its grasp.
The short climb felt further than ever as it dragged that final stone up onto the new pile. Heat seeped in through countless little cuts and pale-yellow flesh was marred with a thin blue layer of blood.
Survival instincts panged through its head, but success was this close. It would be like turning around with a fish just outside its grasp.
With one final push, the rock rolled into place, securely atop the others.
Then, the octopus climbed further. With just a few strides it had reached the new peak.
Again, the octopus turned its gaze upward.
But the sight was the sa. As were the waves.
This much… just wasn't enough.
The return trip was another struggle, and the salt in the water burned each and every thin cut until each tentacle was starting to grow numb.
There was definitely sothing opposite to the success of a hunt, and the octopus felt that to an even greater degree on this day.
Routine continued after a long rest, for the most part.
Eat.
Sleep.
Eat.
Sleep.
Rocks.
Eat.
Sleep.
Rocks…
These changes were not a conscious effort. This is an octopus, after all, and such was its life. So days it simply decided to gaze at that distant light. Then reach for it.
Sleep was essential to quell fatigue, while eating was necessary for energy and to, well, not starve. These were not thoughts which the octopus thought directly. They were instincts. It was done naturally. Occasionally a hunt may get difficult and problem solving would be required, like picking up an eel's rock or using camouflage to lure fish.
Likewise, sleeping may require foresight in choosing a safe hovel. Challenges could be overco through trial and error so long as the octopus survived.
But now a conflicting impulse was arising within the octopus.
When erging from a nice slumber, it would cast its gaze upward. Chasing a stray fish to the ocean floor, it would look up at the dim light from the bottom. All the way ho along the climb, eyes turned to the sky as it grew brighter still. That warmth around the hovel was so inviting.
Once in the open air, that warm light was too much to look at for long. It could even be felt on the skin, slowly seeping into the body.
Food and rest were critical to survival, yet dragging rocks above the sea ran contrary.
Frequent wounds and excessive ti outside the sea were unexpected challenges, and each ti the octopus returned ho from a trip above, it beca wearier.
It would taste that bitter feeling of defeat each and every ti it dared to look up and realize nothing changed. It was a feeling of futility.
Eat.
Sleep.
Eat.
Sleep.
Rocks…
The cycle continued. While counting tentacles was no issue, counting the days was another matter. It was just not a thought which ever occurred. Day would co, then clouds would bring darkness. This would always repeat, as it always had, because why wouldn't it?
Within the apex of a single heartbeat, on just one dusty leaf among countless others, in a drop of dew and beneath the shimring sea, the octopus had no concept of ti. It only knew today, and to expect tomorrow.
Even as it starved in the burning daylight and scraped itself against rocks, tomorrow would co.
Days ebbed and flowed like waves, cuts turned into scars, while vibrant hues paled through years in the beating light.
Ti may not be a concept it grasped, but the octopus rembered now a ti when it didn't get so tired. When that warmth ant a pleasant morning, not the burning of flesh.
When it had no worries but to hunt for food. When it could return ho feeling satisfied. Sleep peacefully…
These feelings were all behind it. Food was a necessity, sleep had to be done, but that light was what lay ahead.
The lone island had grown ever closer to it as scars piled, yet the path ahead didn't seem any shorter. That light still hung in the distant sky.
But the waves had beco further away. This view had undoubtedly changed, if only by a little. The octopus didn't understand why the sky was so out of reach.
By now the octopus had to climb a greater distance than the span of its tentacles to reach the top. This didn't take very long, but an imasurable amount of effort had gone into just this much. Day in and day out, wound after wound.
Images of crawling up from the depths flashed through its head, and that took a great deal longer to climb than the trifling pile here. This much… still wasn't nearly enough.
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It returned to the sea as it always did and searched lackadaisically for a al. Grazing the rocks around the area usually got the job done with little effort, then a plump little fish ca into view.
The octopus approached like a shadow, but its camouflage was imperfect given the many scars piled up. It crept ever closer as the fish nibbled on so algae. Right when a tentacle was about to enclose around the fish though, it suddenly darted away.
This didn't happen too often, but the octopus rembered a ti before it ever happened.
It was going to give up and search elsewhere when sothing suddenly snapped shut around the fish. It quickly lunged forward again to consu any remains.
Out of the darkness, a pale creature erged with writhing appendages.
Another octopus.
This naturally ca as a shock. The octopus who often reached for the sun had been alone as long as it could rember. This was… a challenge yet unencountered. For now, it just froze and tried to continue hiding, but it quickly beca clear that it had already been seen. They locked eyes.
There was a tense mont as the octopus wanted to flee. This was an unnecessary danger. Its prey was typically much smaller, and even if it entered a life and death battle with this equal opponent, it would be difficult to eat.
Yet, after a few tense monts, the octopus decided not to, nor did it think to look up at that distant light. For so reason yet to be comprehended, it felt that it should not flee as it stared into the opposing octopus' eyes.
After a mont, the other one turned brighter still until its body was a stark white. Waves of color flashed across it from top to bottom. It was almost entrancing.
There was an inexplicable pull as the octopus witnessed this strange behavior. For so reason it didn't feel completely unfamiliar.
As if nature itself had hooked its claws in, the octopus felt an urge to respond in kind.
The octopus would also flash its colors.
Just as it was about to signal back to the other, a dark streak tore through the sea. The newcor was pulled away in a dark plu of fresh blood.
There was once more just a single octopus in this sea. The sight was frightening. After getting stunned for a mont, it regained its senses and didn't hesitate to shrink back into the rocks.
In the exact mont the octopus was about to be overtaken by instincts unknown, the other one had had beco prey. Like a clap of thunder, the pull of nature was ripped away, leaving a distinct void of sothing unfulfilled.
Sothing that it should have done, that it was born to do, yet forever removed. After everything it had gone through, the octopus could not reconcile this feeling. Discomfort crept into its mind, then sothing like a fierce burning deep inside.
Slowly, the octopus turned its eyes upward.
The clouds had yet to close, and that burning light towered far above as it did on any other day.
There was nothing else in its gaze as it rose from the depths. The surface ca quick and cold afternoon wind battered against the land.
The first rock it saw was dragged to the center and the climb continued. Bringing it all the way to the top was no small feat after having just done this earlier. Hunger only deepened but was ignored without consideration.
Yet on this day, the fatigue felt lighter. Replaced by sothing else.
The sun was obscured by mist as the clouds t, ushering in a cool night. Soft rains dampened the skin, and the octopus beca lost in its task. Before long another rock found itself at the peak.
Then a third.
A fourth was in sight when the octopus felt a pain. Its body had started to tighten in the open air, even under the rain. This feeling was not unfamiliar.
It was the call of the sea.
The sensation was like an impassable wall, the unseen boundaries of its nature. It could not stay in the world above for long.
On this day, it just felt so… regrettable.
The octopus gazed up at its pile of rocks for a few monts. rely two of itself high after all these many days. It appeared smaller than ever, not even close to reaching so much as the dark clouds.
How could it ever reach the light?
On this day, the octopus did not climb again. It already knew no progress had been made.
It was numb to the sharp rocks, as it was numb to the salted wounds. There were no pleasant sunrays to welco it ho. A few shrimp were caught grazing the algae, and sleep ca shortly after.
eting another of its kind never ca to mind again after that day, nor did the impulse felt in that mont. A crack ford in its nature as that instinct was snuffed out in a cloud of blood.
And sothing crept in to fill the gap.
A yearning. A desire to reach the sky's depths, to surpass it and reach the light.
Food was still necessary, as was sleep. But these feelings no longer held the highest position. These feelings were a given. They were not feelings born of the octopus' own volition.
Unlike this desire to reach ever higher. The obsession that had taken root in the octopus' heart, born of futility, hope, and madness.
Day by day, the cycle continued.
Scars piled as clouds parted, only to converge again.
The sea had grown further still, yet that light never moved.
The octopus rembered a ti when it used to change colors under the sun. Now it was usually seen wearing dull gray to resist the heat. Even when it would turn orange or yellow, countless old scars were a constant reminder of all those days spent in toil. That light never appeared any closer, and these scars were the only thing left to show for it.
But still it toiled on. The climb was higher now, steeper. Each rock felt heavier as the peak grew further from the sea each day. Sotis rocks would fall, then it spent a while adding more around the base until it could continue reaching higher.
Every day was exhausting, but the octopus had grown used to this. While the sun never got closer, the island had grown into a mound and was slowly on its way to becoming sothing of a tower. This progress could be plainly seen. The fruits of all that bitter effort literally grew in size each day.
So days that would feel sowhat gratifying, but most days not so much. That was because on most days the octopus would end up casting its gaze toward the sky.
The octopus rembered a ti when it wasn't so tired, but tomorrow never failed to arrive.
Days broke only to pass, and it didn't matter how many. The sun never seed any closer, but it would. Eventually. It must.
One more… Just one more rock.
The clouds were barely beginning to part off in the distance.
At this point in its life, the octopus had taken to building at night while it was cool and sotis damp. On this particular evening it had already been at work for longer than usual.
The surrounding island had beco smaller, but the rock cradled within a few tentacles was just the right size. The light drizzle had just let up as the octopus began another climb. The stone was heavy as the air around dried rapidly.
Almost halfway, those tight pangs rippled through its body. It needed to return to the sea, but it was so close. The sky was still dark. There was ti.
The sea below had started to grow a little further, and the octopus was emboldened. There was no way it would back down now. That would be wasted effort. If it dared to put its survival at risk, not seeing it through would be like losing sothing precious for nothing in return. That would not do.
The peak was within reach, though the remaining five tentacles were feeling a little stiff. Falling off from this height would hurt and letting go wasn't an option. The only path to survival was forward.
Up, in this case, towards that alluring light.
Just a few more strides now and this rock could be placed at the top.
But the clouds finally broke. A curtain of light fell over the island and its tower of dust.
That tight feeling intensified as heat fell. Each tentacle slowed in its ascent but never stopped.
The sea beckoned, but it would have to wait.
Just a little further.
Just one more push.
Trembling with the stone in its grasp getting heavier by the second, the octopus made it to the top. The rock fell into place with little more effort compared to the climb, and fatigue truly set in.
The sea felt so distant from up here, and the octopus was reluctant to look up. Just the parting clouds seed as far above as ever.
The climb continued once more, if only a little.
Atop that last stone, the octopus finally turned its gaze to the sky. The sun was mostly blocked on both sides by clouds, but that was enough to see.
The view was no different today from the top of the tower as it was countless days ago. Nothing had changed.
The light was ever distant as any day.
But now the octopus knew that days were not infinite.
It rembered a ti when it wasn't so tired…
This was yet another insurmountable barrier, baked into its very nature from birth.
It would one day be incapable of climbing further, and perhaps even incapable of waking up in the morning.
The unyielding curtain of ti would certainly close.
In this mont, as its gaze turned hopelessly toward the sky, its body stiffened further.
The call of the sea.
The octopus gazed down at the distant waves. All of a sudden, they didn't look so far away anymore. If it wanted, it might be able to jump off and return to the cycle of futility.
But instead, its eyes turned upward again. The light this morning was just a little warm, pleasant on the skin. Like a blooming flower, yellow tentacles ford the petals as the octopus sprawled out over the tower's peak.
If it couldn't even surpass the call of the sea, then what right did it have to reach for the light?
For all its life, the light had been the path forward, while that incessant pull from the sea was like a distant shadow trying to claw at its back. The greatest shackle of nature's design.
Today, the sea would wait, for the octopus was tired.
Long had the octopus toiled, and today it would bask in the light for a brief mont.
It was hungry, and it was tired, but that light. If it could not be reached with a tentacle, then it would latch on with all of its being.
That very thought, that intent which ran against its very nature, was the birth an incipient will.
The octopus had never felt so comfortable to burn under the light, to suffer in the arid world above. It was almost as if that heat were gathering inside its body. In a specific place, as if it had always been there, or was always ant to be there.
Whether or not the octopus' wish could be achieved, that warmth ca with an overwhelming sense of contentnt on this day.
Splayed out like a sunflower atop the tower of dust, the octopus never let its eyes leave that brilliant light. It burned, but that didn't matter today.
She would ignore the call of the sea, disregard the distant clutches of ti, and never again look away from her path.
Cira's eyes started to burn as she gazed into the sun unceasingly, never letting it go.
But under her tentacle, no… beneath her palm was nothing but stone.
She pulled her hand away and tore her gaze from the obelisk's peak.
Five fingers, two arms. Two legs. But that feeling of the distant sun still burned within her. She realized that the place she felt that sensation before dying of defiant asphyxiation atop her tower was where she had hidden away her soul within her chest.
Cira stared again at the fourth obelisk. That was no moon and sun. In fact, it was a body holding a soul; a blazing incipient will.
She glanced once more at the sun before turning away silently.
Cira's back slid down against the obelisk and her broken gaze drifted deep into the shadows of the Archive.
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