Deep Sea Embers

The moment Duncan began to speak, Sailor was struck with an immediate realization of what the captain intended to do. This insight wasn’t new; ever since Lawrence had awakened him aboard the White Oak, Sailor’s greatest fear had become a stark reality: the terror of being ignited into flames by Captain Duncan.

Regrettably, this fear had materialized when Sailor was struck by a colossal fireball, a deadly gift from a messenger known as “Ai.”

Having endured the horror of being engulfed in ghost fire, which seemed capable of vaporizing his very soul at any moment, Sailor was understandably on edge, voicing his concern with a tremble in his voice, “…Will this directly set the shroud ablaze?”

“Theoretically, it shouldn’t,” Duncan replied with unwavering confidence. “I possess the ability to fine-tune my flames to reveal the hidden ‘reality’ beneath the facade of various mystical objects. This technique has allowed me to safely examine and discover secrets of numerous artifacts in the past…”

Before Duncan could further assure him, the conversation took a turn as Shirley, who had been listening intently, interjected with a reminder, “Except, that black leather book we retrieved from the Annihilators was reduced to ashes after you merely glanced at it…”

Not to be outdone, Nina chimed in with her own example, “And let’s not forget the golden mask from the Suntists in Pland that also succumbed to flames…”

“Atlantis too burned not long ago…” Lucretia added softly, highlighting the recent event.

Faced with these reminders, Duncan’s confident facade began to crumble, and the air filled with a palpable tension. However, Alice, who had been distractedly feeding pigeons, sensed an opportunity to lighten the mood and eagerly interjected, “But my wooden box didn’t burn!”

After a brief pause, she continued with a grave tone, “Though, it did become part of the Vanished after the captain ‘inspected’ it…”

Trying to maintain his composure, Duncan managed to address Alice with a strained smile, suggesting she could’ve omitted that last detail before turning back to Sailor. Despite the awkward exchanges, he endeavored to project an air of assurance, “…Regardless, it’s extremely safe.”

Sailor, observing the captain’s strained dignity and the mixed reactions of the crew and the two impassive popes, took a moment before reluctantly offering his trust, “I believe.”

With a palpable sense of relief, Duncan approached Sailor, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I recognize its value as potentially the last remnant of the Sea Song. I’ll handle it with utmost care.”

Acknowledging Duncan’s pledge, Sailor nodded, albeit still somewhat dazed by the gravity of the situation. Duncan then proceeded to a low table, where he solemnly laid out the shroud, his demeanor reflecting the seriousness of the task at hand.

Helena and Frem found their attention inexorably drawn to Duncan’s actions. After a moment of hesitation, filled with the weight of the responsibility they bore, Frem felt compelled to voice his concern, “This is the sole piece of ‘knowledge’ that has made its way back from the uncharted territories. Should there be any indication of harm, I implore you to cease immediately.”

“I understand,” Duncan responded with a gravitas that matched the significance of the moment. With the eyes of his companions fixed upon him, he carefully positioned his hand above the ancient shroud.

“…Let me have a word with it,” he whispered under his breath, a soft murmur meant only for himself.

From his fingertips, a stream of ethereal flame, resembling liquid more than fire, sparked to life and gently descended upon the shroud. With the fluidity of water, this ghost fire instantly permeated the fabric, seeping into every crease and fold as it explored the hidden secrets within.

Duncan, with his eyes gently closed, focused intently on guiding the flames as they wove through the shroud. He was deeply attuned to the fragments of information being relayed through the fire, seeking to connect with a reality that was fractured, remote, and seemingly lost to time. Though familiar to him, this process required a level of concentration and precision he had honed over many such endeavors.

In the realm of his perception, a tumultuous void unfolded, initially revealing nothing but the chaotic absence of form or structure.

However, abruptly, as if a lost era had been plucked from the annals of history and thrust into the present, a faint illumination pierced the void within this tumult.

Feeling a pull towards this light, Duncan advanced mentally, and before he could fully engage with it, a soft, indistinct voice reached him:

“I am Caraline, the captain of the Sea Song, and this message is what I’ve managed to send back from our journey…”

“We encountered ‘Her’—roughly fifty years after we crossed the critical six miles limit…”

At this revelation, Duncan’s metaphorical eyes widened in his visionary state. The light amidst the chaos began to take shape, forming the silhouette of a woman donned in the Storm Church’s naval attire. Her stature was imposing, yet her features remained obscured.

She seemed to stand alone, speaking to the ether, unaware of Duncan’s presence or observation.

“…Beyond the frontier, time is not linear. It took years of being adrift to understand that the six miles critical limit is more than a physical demarcation; it defines the limits of our world’s order…”

“In the mists, detached from the familiar flow of time, I witnessed an array of surreal visions. In the densest fog, the very edge of our world appeared to crumble and decay…”

“…There, the specters of explorers lost to the frontier, devoid of both substance and self-awareness, roamed. Caught in a tumultuous, disjointed temporal stream, they moved without purpose, like fog, coalescing and dispersing. The Sea Song encountered some of these phantoms, and through these interactions, I came to realize we were beginning to mirror their fate…”

“My crew, they began to lose their sense of self, transforming into something unrecognizable after nearly fifty years adrift. This realization came to me much later, and by that time, I was scarcely in better condition than they were…”

“…Throughout it all, the first mate remained steadfast at his post… His endurance is beyond my comprehension…”

“Then, as if by some miracle, we found ourselves once again amidst the call of the waves, drawn to a suddenly materializing sea. This sea ‘pulled’ the Sea Song towards an island. I came to my senses then, astonished that such a vast physical expanse could exist beyond the known frontiers. It was then I understood that these ‘islands’ were actually the sacred resting grounds of our deity.”

“There she was, the sovereign of storms, the essence of the deep sea, the goddess Gomona…”

“The revelations I share may astonish or unsettle many, yet they are the truth of my experiences.”

“The realm of the divine is not situated in a ‘higher’ dimensional plane, nor does it lie at the ‘foundation’ of our universe. The concept of a divine kingdom as a distinct place is a fallacy; the gods have always been amongst us… encircling the world, beyond the mists at the edge of our reality. They, and their offsprings, form part of the ‘outer barrier’.”

At this point, Caraline’s phantom paused, her narrative interrupted by a gap in her recollection. Duncan, drawn in by her account, sought to engage with the captain’s visage, questioning the nature of her revelations.

“The gods encircle the world and are integral to the outer barrier?” he inquired abruptly, “What lies beyond this barrier? What exists further out? Were you able to see it?”

The phantom of Caraline offered no reply, trapped within the confines of her recorded message. After a brief silence, she resumed her account, still echoing Captain Caraline’s words:

“…Many of us remained there.”

“The goddess of storms slumbers at the heart of those primeval islands… these ‘islands’ are in truth the carcasses of Leviathans, arrayed around the sea, cradling Her in their midst… the largest of these hosts a temple, a structure reminiscent of a tiered obelisk, crafted from an amalgam of dark green and pitch-black stones, adorned with enigmatic, convoluted markings that hint at some form of script, though none I recognize…”

“The entity at the temple’s core is beyond description, differing vastly from any preconceived notion of the goddess I held. In the moment I beheld Her form, it felt as though my consciousness was shattered and reconstituted countless times. Yet, it was a soft voice that restored us, a voice that integrated us into ‘Her’ being, shielding us from dissolution into the formless entities of the mist…”

“Then, She expressed her regret to us.”

“She confessed her inability to maintain control. She revealed that she had perished yet struggled against the encroach of death. Now, She required our assistance.”

“She tasked me with delineating a pathway, a specific course leading from the Boundless Sea directly to the outer barrier. Only through navigating the correct route within the fog that lies between the boundary of the six miles limit can travelers hope to reach ‘Them’…”

“It was essential for someone to make the journey back to bring this information.”

As Caraline’s spectral form spoke, her head bowed gently, her voice carrying a tone of solemnity.

“Exhaustion had claimed most of my crew; they opted for a final rest in the divine anchorage of the Lord… I harbor no resentment towards their choice, for it is an intrinsic aspect of ‘humanity’ to seek solace.

“In the end, it was just my first mate and I who embarked on the journey back to familiar shores. The Sea Song had been claimed by the islands, yet the goddess crafted its semblance from the mist before its complete engulfment. My first mate and I boarded this spectral ship, guided by the direction she imparted, navigating back towards home…”

“Now, the end of our voyage draws near.”

“I sense the gradual fading of my own existence, as well as that of the Sea Song… we are but phantoms conjured by the goddess amidst the fog, and the tangible world does not permit such phantasms to linger… this sensation of fading, it signifies our nearing home.”

“Yet, my first mate and I are not the same. He is no illusion birthed from the mist; he has remained vigilant throughout our journey, from our departure until this moment, manifesting tangibly within this realm, loyally executing his duties.”

“Hence, the responsibility of the route falls to him… he carries the knowledge to navigate back to our world, and equally, to return to those islands… regardless of the passage of time.”

“I am Caraline, captain of the Sea Song, and I bequeath the entirety of the Sea Song to my devoted first mate, marking this as the final entry I record as captain.”

“Goddess, please bear witness…”

Within the enveloping chaos and dense fog, the luminous figure of Caraline stilled into silence once more.

Then, as the fog lifted, Duncan found himself returning to his senses—he was back in the living room, surrounded by the familiar yet now seemingly distant reality of his own world.