Deep Sea Embers

With an air of innocence and joy, young Annie exited, her footsteps echoing with a happy rhythm as she sauntered away. Despite her childlike demeanor, there was no hint of unease or doubt about her actions. After all, she was still but a child, blissfully ignorant of the world’s hidden intricacies and forebodings.

Meanwhile, the elderly caretaker stood as an immovable statue at the entryway of the cemetery. His gaze was fixated on Annie’s diminishing silhouette, a contemplative expression etched on his weathered face. It took him a considerable amount of time to rouse himself from this prolonged state of rumination. Then, with trembling fingers revealing his advanced age and possible anxiety, he gingerly reached into the confines of his chest pocket, retrieving a small vial filled with medicinal substance. He carefully administered the concoction orally, relief washing over him as the effect took hold.

“I can’t shake this off, it’s unnerving… I must relay this to the cathedral without delay. Oh mighty God of Death, this anomaly is simply too confounding…”

His words trailed off into faint whispers as he pivoted abruptly, aiming for the direction of the caretaker’s quarters. Upon entering his modest cabin, he secured the door behind him and strode towards a somewhat antiquated desk that lay next to his bed, revealing a hidden panel on the desk’s surface – an array of complex pipes, valves, buttons, and levers came into view, an engineering marvel hidden in plain sight.

Amongst this network of pipes lay a few metal capsules, inconspicuously nestled within small compartments.

With a sense of urgency, the old man retrieved a sheet of parchment from his desk drawer and busied himself with a fountain pen. His hand moved swiftly across the paper, penning down his observations into a formal report. Once the documentation was completed, he meticulously rolled it up and secured it within a metal capsule. The capsule was then inserted into an open slot in the pipe compartment of the desk.

“May Bartok bestow blessings upon these pipes and the air coursing through them… May the valves function impeccably without experiencing any clogs, pressure drop, or volatile reaction, and may the differential machine at the sorting and delivery center avoid any operational mishaps.”

His prayer faded into the quiet room, and without losing another moment, he engaged a button adjacent to the pressurized pipe. A green indicator in the compartment lit up, signaling the all-clear, upon which he manipulated a lever at the button’s side.

A peculiar bubbling noise, suggestive of air blockage, emanated from the bowels of the pipe system. However, this was promptly replaced by the steady hiss of the pressure pipe in full operation and the swift movement of the capsule through the system.

The elderly caretaker anxiously studied the pipe, murmuring apprehensively, “…Could the mention of divine entities in the letter have meddled with the mechanical system?”

After a tense period, the green lights indicating a successful “express delivery” to the higher sorting center were lit, and the old caretaker sighed in relief. With one last glance, he shut the panel enclosing the pipe compartment.

…

Meanwhile, Alice was engrossed in her own explorations, meandering down a bustling street while clutching a sizable paper bag. Her eyes roved over the diverse architectural features that surrounded her, soaking in the uniqueness of this city that was so unlike Pland. She found the urban lifestyles fascinating, observing the townsfolk and their daily routines.

The paper bag she was carrying contained a mix of fresh produce she had picked up from a local store tucked away in a corner. It was filled with a variety of vegetables, fresh eggs, a block of frozen butter, and a couple of cuts of succulent lamb. These were the components of the delicious meal she planned to prepare for lunch.

Alice had begun to independently navigate the nuances of shopping, although her skills were still developing. There were occasions when she failed to accurately compute the necessary change. However, her determination was unwavering, and she persisted in her attempts to learn these intricate tasks. Her progress might have been slow, but it was steady, and every day, she made small but meaningful advancements.

With her head slightly bowed, Alice held the shopping bag securely in one hand while the other retrieved a piece of paper nestled within the bag’s contents. She examined this paper intently; it was her guide to shopping – a list of items that she needed.

The writing on this paper was somewhat irregular, the uneven strokes revealing a beginner’s hand. A combination of recognizable words and simple sketches represented her shopping list. Some words were familiar to her, others less so, and these had been replaced with crude illustrations. This was a product of her effort and her struggle to create a reliable shopping guide.

Alice had embraced the responsibility of planning her daily meals, determining the ingredients she needed, drafting her shopping list, physically purchasing items from the store, attempting to make precise calculations about the change due, and finally, ensuring a timely return home. The prospect of successfully accomplishing all these tasks was enough to bring a smile to the captain’s face.

The sense of accomplishment brought Alice a sense of joy, too…

After cross-verifying the contents of the bag with her handwritten list, Alice was satisfied that she had successfully completed her task. Folding the paper carefully, she stowed it away and resumed her journey back to her temporary dwelling on Oak Street.

However, her attention was abruptly diverted by a sudden commotion arising from a nearby street corner.

Raising her gaze towards the source of the clamor, Alice noticed a group of about a dozen individuals huddled around an antiquated residential structure. They were engaged in animated discussions, gesturing towards the building while exchanging remarks. Phrases like “the woman has gone mad,” “poor soul,” and “the church has been alerted” floated around, adding to the sense of urgency and intrigue.

A wave of curiosity swept over Alice, causing her to slow down her pace until she was rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on the gathering.

There was an enticing energy about the crowd, but Alice remembered the captain’s advice – joining such a gathering might lead to unnecessary complications. Especially if her head, an unusual feature, were to dislodge in the middle of the crowd, it would certainly escalate the situation.

Yet, the scene unfolding before her seemed incredibly interesting. It also appeared to be something that the captain might find valuable.

Caught in the throes of indecision, Alice found herself instinctively drifting closer to the scene.

“I’ll just go over and investigate… I’ll gather information for the captain… This isn’t mindless curiosity; it’s a serious inquiry…”

Alice rationalized her decision, convincing herself that her actions were justified.

Securing her head with one hand and clutching the paper bag with the other, Alice confidently merged with the throng, her gaze joining others in scrutinizing the building.

The building in question was markedly different from the two-story house that the captain had temporarily rented. It looked older, more cramped, its narrow windows and exposed gas pipes adding to its congested appearance. It gave the impression of being shared by multiple tenants, each living in their individualized space.

The chatter among the crowd was a cacophony of disjointed snippets of information, leaving Alice more confused than before. After trying to piece together the fragmented conversation for a while, she decided to directly inquire about the situation. She gently tapped the shoulder of a man standing nearby and, with an air of polite curiosity, asked, “Excuse me, could you tell me what’s happening here?”

The man initially started at her touch but seemed to relax upon seeing that the inquiry came from a young lady, modestly shrouded by a veil. He gestured upwards towards the building and began to explain, “It seems a woman has lost her senses. She claims to have killed her husband and now threatens to harm her own child… First, the local law enforcement was alerted, and now, even the church has been drawn into the situation. I suspect this may be more serious than it appears.”

No sooner had he finished than another bystander chimed in, “If the church is involved now, could this mean there’s something… supernatural at play?”

“I hope it doesn’t escalate,” a woman interjected from within the crowd, her voice laced with worry, “I live directly beneath them. If anything happens, we’ll have nowhere to go…”

“Regardless of what it may be, a visit to the church for an exorcism wouldn’t hurt. Better safe than sorry,” a voice of reason echoed within the clamoring crowd.

As the murmurings of the crowd resumed their earlier pitch, Alice felt herself being swept along the tide of unintelligible chatter. Her gaze instinctively followed the direction everyone was pointing upwards.

Hovering above her field of vision, she could see slender threads floating in the air. There were many more such threads emanating from the surrounding residential structures, swaying gently in the breeze as if strands of silken hair dancing in the wind, creating a subtle, mesmerizing pattern in the sky.

Alice blinked in surprise.

She observed that a few of the threads above the city seemed exceptionally ethereal and transparent, their luminosity fluctuating as if in sync with some unseen rhythm.

…

Inside the ancient residential structure, a faint musty odor lingered. The antiquated plumbing system was leaking at various points, and the intermittent dripping sound echoed eerily in the otherwise silent building. A group of guardians, their black robes flowing ominously around their bodies, and carrying staffs and lanterns, were assembled in the living room, which made the already tight quarters appear oppressively cramped.

In the corner of the room, on an old worn-out sofa, crouched a woman with disheveled long hair. She was huddled in fear, her head bowed, muttering indiscernible sentences intermittently.

Two of the black-robed guardians were stationed close to her, cautiously monitoring the mentally fragile woman while their comrades continued their investigation of the home. They had been diligently scouring the place for clues for almost two hours now.

Suddenly, a gust of gray wind swept down the hallway, passing through the open doorway and swirling into the living room.

Upon its arrival, the guardians halted their investigation one by one and respectfully acknowledged the gray-white whirlwind. Emerging from the vortex, Agatha surveyed the room with a discerning gaze.

“What’s the current situation?” she asked, shifting her attention to the most senior guardian in the room.

The guardian captain, a woman who sported a neat, black bob, took a step forward, responding to Gatekeeper Agatha’s query, “We discovered a small quantity of a substance akin to ‘mud’ on the bathroom floor, which corresponds with samples we’ve collected in past cases.”

“Primal matter…” Agatha murmured under her breath, her brows furrowing in thought, “A small sample, you say? How small? Is that the entirety of what was found?”

“Roughly equivalent to a test tube’s volume,” the captain demonstrated using her hands, “That’s all we were able to find. We’ve combed through the entire building, and the residue was solely confined to the bathroom floor.”

Agatha nodded in silence, her gaze shifting towards the disheveled woman cowering in the corner of the sofa.

“Is she the individual in question?” she asked.

“Yes,” the squad leader affirmed with a nod, “She is a resident here. Our background check on her didn’t reveal anything suspicious – she’s got a clean slate with no prior run-ins with the law. She works as an accounts keeper for a local firm. Moreover, her husband used to be employed in the metal mines. According to official records, he passed away in a mining accident about three years ago.”

The metal mines… a mining accident…

Perhaps the recent chain of events triggered her instincts, but Agatha couldn’t help but make a mental note of these critical details. With a composed demeanor, she approached the woman, who continued to mutter incomprehensibly to herself.

“Ma’am, I’m the city’s gatekeeper, and you are safe now,” Agatha assured her, employing her power subtly to calm the woman’s distressed spirit, “Can you tell me what happened?”

As Agatha’s soothing voice reached her, the shivering woman on the sofa abruptly halted her muttering. She mumbled something incoherent before suddenly raising her head.

Agatha was met with a pair of eyes brimming with a terrifying mix of fear and insanity.

“He returned, he came back… I killed him, I killed that monster… in the bathroom! It dissolved right there in the bathroom!” she blurted out.

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