Deep Sea Embers

As the sun’s embers faded into oblivion, a soft, haunting afterglow was left suspended high in the nocturnal expanse. This weak illumination, however, failed to shed light upon the endless ocean beneath. Rather, it shrouded the world in a deepened veil of darkness that felt ominous and fear-inspiring.

Under this impenetrable cloak of night, the ship known as the “White Oak” charted its course.

Lamps, both oil-fueled and electrically powered, were ablaze aboard the ship, their combined brilliance emanating a circle of light onto the adjacent ocean surface. The broken shards of sea waves danced within this luminescent spotlight, seemingly imbued with a mystic, viscous characteristic.

While the situation aboard the “White Oak” was fairly controlled, Lawrence was busy responding to a voice in his mind, providing an update on the ship’s condition. “Save for a few anxious sailors, everything is stable. However, we’re enveloped in deep darkness, losing any contact with other ships within our navigational course. Furthermore, our navigational equipment failed, and the star observation chamber has plunged into absolute darkness.”

Duncan’s voice reverberated directly within Lawrence’s mind, instructing him: “Can you establish contact with the nearest port of Cold Harbor? You just departed from that city-state.”

“No,” replied Lawrence, glancing back at the communication station nearby. The lights on the device were all ominously glowing red. “Our communication channels are entirely severed. The priest attempted psychic resonance to connect with the cathedral in Cold Harbor but to no avail. However, we did manage to establish a weak psychic connection with Pland.”

“I understand. So, we’ve essentially lost contact with the entire world, with the exception of Pland, Frost, and Wind Harbor,” Duncan concluded.

Hearing Duncan’s grave analysis, Lawrence’s expression grew stern. He swallowed hard as if fearful to imagine what this could mean.

He then cast his gaze onto the instrument panel next to the helm, swiftly checking and confirming various parameters.

“Currently, we are pushing full speed towards Pland. This is a typically crowded route. In theory, we should soon be approaching a transit port, a subsidiary island of the Lansa city-state. Once we’re there, we can verify the situation and provide you with an update,” Lawrence rapidly relayed in his mind.

But before he could finish, he was interrupted by a sudden flurry of footsteps echoing through the bridge.

A deckhand, panic etched across his face, stormed into the bridge, calling urgently, “Captain, Captain! You must come immediately! Sailor has spotted something completely incomprehensible!”

“Anomaly 077?” Lawrence’s face tightened instantly, and he spun around to his second in command, “Gus, take control of the helm. I’ll go and see what’s going on!”

First Mate Gus responded swiftly, “Aye, Captain!”

Without a moment’s delay, Lawrence hastened from the bridge. Guided by the frantic sailor, he navigated the ship’s stairways and corridors to arrive at the aft deck of the “White Oak.” Upon arrival, he spotted a slim figure frantically moving about at the edge of the deck.

Anomaly 077, this bizarrely animate mummy, was busy toiling around a substantial iron bucket, incessantly mumbling to itself. Only as Lawrence neared could he discern the cryptic mutterings of the mummy: “Everything’s lost, it’s all over. No escape, no return. The world is doomed. Perhaps it would be better to die in one’s sleep.”

As was its nature, the creature was radiating an aura of pessimism.

Lawrence had no desire to engage with Anomaly 077’s relentless chatter. Taking immediate action, he strode forth, loudly interrupting, “What are you up to?”

The mummy jerked as if roused from a reverie, hurriedly bobbing his head and bowing, “Captain! Captain, you’ve arrived… Ah, the captain’s here, all is well, everything’s in order…”

“Enough,” Lawrence dismissed him with a wave of his hand, pressing further, “What are you doing exactly?”

“You have to see this, have a look at this,” the mummy promptly responded. He then scampered to the iron bucket, stirring its contents a few times with a large pair of iron tongs, causing a distinct greasy sound to emanate from within.

Only then did Lawrence realize that the metal bucket was filled with oil. Anomaly 077 was busily immersing a piece of rag into the fluid with the aid of the tongs. He then proceeded to light up the oil-soaked rag with a lighter, presumably borrowed from a sailor.

Under Lawrence’s skeptical scrutiny, Anomaly 077 forcefully hurled the flaming rag into the sea. The flaming ball made contact with the watery surface and quickly began to drift towards the back of the “White Oak.”

“This is how sailors used to crudely calculate their speed before all your modern technology came into existence. It may lack precision, but it does serve a purpose,” Anomaly 077 mumbled.

“I’m aware, I’ve read about this,” Lawrence interjected, “but what exactly are you attempting to show me?”

The sailor gesticulated wildly, pointing off into the distance, “Keep watching, it’s about to happen. Keep an eye on that flame as it drifts further away.”

Lawrence, still skeptical, shifted his gaze to the flame bobbing on the sea’s surface. It was rapidly drifting towards the stern of the “White Oak.” This was a normal occurrence given the ship was moving at full speed. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

Until, inexplicably, the flame came to a sudden halt at a distance?

Lawrence’s focus locked onto the flame. Logically, the flame should have continued to drift away until it was either extinguished by the sea waves or moved beyond the limit of human vision. But there it remained, suspended at a distance.

By rough estimation, it was merely a few hundred meters away from the “White Oak.”

Lawrence’s gaze remained locked onto the flame that had halted a mere few hundred meters from the stern of the “White Oak.” Intriguingly, it appeared as though the flame was maintaining an equal pace with the ship. After an extended period of observation, the flame gradually waned, eventually succumbing to the engulfing darkness of the ocean’s horizon.

Once again, Sailor picked up a piece of cloth with the iron tongs, drenched it in oil, ignited it, and flung it into the water. The second fiery orb hit the water, swiftly receded, then halted at the same predetermined distance. Having performed his experiment, Anomaly 077 finally relinquished his hold on the iron tongs. He swiveled to face Lawrence, his gaunt, grotesque countenance straining to express concern, “Captain, how would you scientifically account for this?”

This time, Lawrence refrained from ridiculing the anomaly’s staunch belief in scientific explanations for all phenomena, as was his typical response. Instead, he remained silent, rooted to the spot at the edge of the deck. After an indeterminable lapse of time, he murmured as if in conversation with himself, “Do you see it?”

Caught off guard, Anomaly 077 retorted, “Huh? Who are you addressing?”

Lawrence offered no response. However, he heard Duncan’s deep, solemn voice resonate in his mind: “I see it. Through our shared vision, I can discern it somewhat clearly.”

“How do you interpret this vision?” Lawrence cautiously inquired. “The physical laws seem to be warping into the surreal, potentially due to a reality distortion or deeper, undiscovered causes. Irrespective of the root cause, the Boundless Sea is exhibiting rapid transformations in the aftermath of the sun’s disappearance. Meanwhile, the “White Oak” and its immediate vicinity remain unaffected.”

Duncan ruminated, hesitated, and eventually articulated, “This could be the effect of my power, but regardless of the cause, I, too, will need time to decipher this puzzling occurrence.”

As Lawrence was grappling with the issue, his contemplation was abruptly disrupted by an uncanny sound.

The sound was an eerie, slow humming akin to a gargantuan beast gasping for breath or some colossal machine sluggishly powering up. It was faint and far-off, yet it seemed to pervade the entire world, echoing in everyone’s ears.

Stunned, Lawrence lifted his gaze towards the extinguished sun. The double rings of runes encircling the sun flickered inconsistently, and with each flicker, the dark sphere at the heart of Vision 001 gradually unfurled tendrils of light.

Initially, these threads of light were feeble and red-hued, resembling rivulets of blood, but soon they began to sprawl across the entire sphere, rapidly intensifying in luminosity.

….

An immense radiant geometric body hovered over the ocean, bathing the nearby Wind Harbor and the docked Bright Star in an even distribution of its sunlight. Atop the highest research platform of the Bright Star, Lucretia was engrossed in observing the large circular crystal lens positioned before her.

The crystal lens was swathed in an ethereal blue light, its center presenting a myriad of fluctuating hues that alternated between light and dark.

“Since the radiant geometric body started emitting sunlight, these peculiar signals have been emerging. They’re invisible to the naked eye but can be detected by the ship’s observational lens, producing this pattern of fluctuating light and dark ripples.” Luni, the clockwork doll, attended to Lucretia, nimbly adjusting the complex observational equipment as she updated her mistress.

Lucretia’s gaze shifted towards the front of the room. The research platform was enclosed, yet at the room’s end was a specially designed window. Sunlight from the radiant geometric body entered the room through this aperture, where it was processed through an array of intricate lens devices, ultimately dispersed into a spectrum, and projected onto specific observational apparatuses. Lucretia herself had designed and built this entire mechanism.

Lucretia’s gaze returned to the recording device positioned on the table beside her, which was continuously churning out strips of paper.

These twitching strips recorded the supernatural changes registered by the lens system, and the jagged black lines suggested a clear and definitive periodicity.

“These light signals are regular,” she murmured. “Yes,” the doll Luni affirmed, “Each signal follows a twelve-second cycle, repeating three times with a thirteen-second interval in between. Then the cycle recommences. Could it be originating from that stone sphere?”

“Uncertain. The Truth Academy has observers monitoring the stone sphere, but they’ve reported no observable changes in the sphere itself. These light signals seem to emanate directly from the glowing area encircling the sphere as if materializing out of nothing.”

Suddenly, in the midst of her report, Luni ceased speaking…

“Mistress, the light signals have ceased,” she declared.

Lucretia, taken aback, stared at the perpetually oscillating crystal lens.

The alternation of light and dark hues had vanished.

After a moment of stunned silence, she seemed to grasp a new insight. Her figure abruptly disintegrated into a multitude of colorful papers that fluttered about and soared out of the window.

The colorful papers whirled in the air above the deck, rapidly reassembling themselves, and there stood Lucretia on the upper deck of the Bright Star. She squinted against the sun, looking up at the sky. Through the hazy golden sunlight cast across the sea, she perceived a notably intense source of light.

It was high in the sky: the sun had been reignited.

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