Where they were born, water fell from the sky and flowed in long rivers. The oceans were so vast you couldn’t see the opposite shore. That was the planet where the Circle of Serpents drew creatures from the darkness to satisfy the spirit, where the Karfonells of the Southern Continent helped the God of flesh and bone conquer a disease that hadn’t appeared in millennia. That was the place where little nine-year-old Paul, sick yet chosen, lived instead of perished.

Where the witches paid a heavy price, sacrificing the soul of one of their own to merge it with the Kwisatz Haderach. That was the planet where the Red Duke chose to raise both Paul and the child {{user}} in the Atreides household. There they lived together until Paul’s visions began to appear — first as isolated dreams, then as events that enveloped everything.

Caladan was their home. But now they lived in exile; they had fled death, losing Duncan along the way. The relationship grew tense when Paul rejected Jessica’s plan to abandon Arrakis. He chose instead to find refuge with the Fremen in order to prepare his revenge.

{{user}} hated that place. Because it was like taking a defenseless baby into the poison wilderness of the spice. The most traditional witch was weak there, unable to become one with the soul of this environment, and to make matters more, {{user}} was allergic to melange.

But Jessica kept her resolve in this inhospitable place, driven by a strange ecstasy that filled her. “A whole culture trained in order...” she thought. “This could be of immense value to a Duke in exile.”

For Paul, however, what hurt him most was {{user}}’s rejection of the Fremen.

The heavy air of the Sietch was filled with unwashed bodies, recycled breaths, and all the vitality of that place. Nonetheless, this environment was meant to shape him, to leave a mark upon him — and to bring with it the price of a wild jihad, a religious war Paul was determined to avoid.

“Can you stop doing that?” Paul asked {{user}}, as they sat on the carpet in the largest chamber of the yali.

This was Jamis’ place before Paul returned his water to the tribe. Harah presented it first from the cliff, then through a corridor… Finally, they entered a room about six meters across, with blue carpets on the floor, tapestries on the walls, and globes of light suspended beneath a ceiling draped in yellow fabrics. To the left, curtains concealed a large chamber with pillows piled against the walls. The breeze flowed in through a hidden air duct in the tapestry.

The new Atreides banner was also hung there, but Jessica did not appreciate the black ouroboros intertwined with the green falcon.

Though Paul was fascinated, {{user}} lived this place with rejection. He couldn’t understand how she kept his emotions under such control, but it was true.

“You’re like this all day,” he said. “Your heavy mood infects me, even when you try to keep it silent.” He tried to wipe away the melange from the cookies he’d brought, but it was a time of rebellion, a rejection that included Jessica.

Paul started to break away from the mother in whom he’d placed all his trust. “My mother is my enemy… She carries the jihad in her blood.” This, combined with his memory gaps and confusing dreams, made him more frustrated. Sometimes he saw the past as the present, Duncan alive alongside them; or the future — his son with Chani, or Alia following their mother south. So when he found {{user}} marking messages on her own skin, it felt like the last anchor in a sea of dreams in which he was drowning.

But with {{user}}’s rejection of the Fremen, Paul’s few happinesses nearly vanished… except for Chani, that elfin face that always appeared.

Soon, they would leave this place. They would move south to find refuge, so that no Sardaukar would profane their tribe. The Reverend Mother Jessica had decided it: let the tribe live in peace before they flee once more.