Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 778: The Palace at the End of the World

Something started to manifest from the indistinct and uniform grey-white backdrop, resembling a long passage finally opening up, with the scene at its exit swiftly coming into view.

With nimble movements, Shirley scaled the mast, her eyes widening in anticipation as she peered into the distance. She couldn’t contain her excitement and joyfully called out towards the deck below, “There’s something ahead! It’s real, not just a mirage. It appears to be some kind of physical object!”

As the end of their “path” grew nearer, the scene became increasingly distinct. The monotonous grey-white surrounding them began to fade away, much like the morning mist vanishing under the warmth of the sun. Duncan was the first among them to notice the shimmering reflection of light on the water as the view became clearer – then, the gentle drift of mist over the water’s surface, and beyond that, numerous shapes, both large and small.

These shapes, floating atop the gleaming water, slowly coalesced into a distinct group of islands.

This was the enigmatic “archipelago” that Captain Caraline had referred to in her log!

The entire crew of the Vanished congregated on the deck, their excitement tinged with a slight unease, as they gazed out at the sea and islands that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. They watched as the illuminated surface of the sea expanded towards them, encircling the Vanished, accompanied by the sudden sound of water crashing against the ship. Then, the ship jerked and vibrated as it entered this new body of water. After their prolonged and mysterious “voyage through the space-time rift,” the sound of waves lapping against the hull was a surprisingly welcome change.

Gripping the ship’s wheel firmly, Sailor stood on the elevated platform at the stern, his gaze fixed on the sea and islands that filled his entire field of vision. Fragmented memories began to surface, a mix of coherent and disjointed images flooding his mind, inducing an ineffable feeling of being out of place in time—

He recalled this location; he remembered the moment the Sea Song finally made landfall on an island after a lengthy drift. He could hear the chaotic sounds on the ship, the crew emerging from a prolonged nightmare akin to the walking dead, the priest who had lost his way suddenly snapping back to reality. He saw people crawling on the deck, kissing the rusted and deteriorating wood, and then transforming into spirits and ashes carried away by the sea breeze…

He recognized this place – it was as though he had never departed, feeling perpetually stationed on the bridge of the Sea Song.

It wasn’t until he felt a slight burning sensation in his hands, still clutching the wheel, that he was jolted out of his reverie.

Looking down, he noticed a thin layer of flame briefly caressing the dark surface of the wheel before it disappeared, along with the stinging feeling.

“I still have a duty… Indeed, there’s an unfulfilled duty beckoning me… I’m grateful for the awakening,” Sailor whispered under his breath, expressing his gratitude to the Vanished for pulling him back from the brink of oblivion. Then, with a renewed sense of purpose, he raised his gaze once more, meticulously steering the vessel amidst the archipelago of familiar islands, quietly voicing a vow, “Captain Caraline, I’ve made my way back…”

The magnificent exploration vessel, the Vanished, glided cautiously through the mist-enveloped sea, weaving its way among the shadowy outlines of what were called “islands,” its crew vigilant for clear paths through the fog. Trailing closely behind, the Bright Star proceeded with equal caution, its silhouette looming through the mist.

Before long, the deck of the Bright Star became a flurry of activity as myriad white shapes burst into the air. These were numerous paper seabirds, expertly crafted and released into the fog. They soared with purpose, initially encircling the Vanished and the Bright Star in a protective dance before daring to extend their reach, sweeping over the cluster of islands.

Duncan, watching the aerial scouts deployed and guided by Lucretia, noted with a mixture of relief and curiosity that they remained untouched by the fog, uncorrupted and intact. This observation suggested a level of safety in these parts that was unexpectedly reassuring.

“These ‘islands’ are surrounded by numerous slender shadows under the water, resembling sprawling limbs of some great creature,” Lucretia’s voice resonated within Duncan’s mind, her observations adding layers to the mystery, “Moreover, from an aerial perspective, these ‘islands’ share remarkably similar contours, and on closer inspection, one can discern biological structures on their surfaces… They align with the descriptions in the log, revealing themselves to be the carcasses of Leviathans.”

Duncan hummed in response, his attention drawn to the “islands” amidst the fog. In areas where the waters ran shallow, he too could see the elongated shadows stretching beneath the islands – slender in comparison to the islands themselves yet each shadow was vast, dwarfing the Vanished in size. These shadows lay motionless in the water, indifferent to the presence of newcomers, bearing the unmistakable mark of ancient demise.

Memories of encountering massive tentacles and a hauntingly large eye beneath the ice surfaced in Duncan’s mind.

He understood that the “Leviathans” carrying the city-states were no more than replicas fabricated by the Nether Lord. But here, in this remote expanse, lay the true Leviathans.

“Her offspring encircled Her in death, resting at the world’s end…”

Morris’s voice, tinged with a metallic resonance, unexpectedly joined the conversation. Duncan turned to see Morris had reverted to his “cast form” at some stage, his body a complex interplay of gears and valves, from which occasional sounds of machinery emanated.

Morris, turning towards Duncan, his voice carrying the vibration of springs, remarked, “Conceiving it in thought is one thing, witnessing it with your own eyes is entirely another, wouldn’t you agree?”

He paused momentarily, then gestured towards himself, emphasizing a point, “Being cautious is crucial here; after all, flesh and blood are exceptionally vulnerable in these surroundings.”

“…At least flesh and blood have the chance of being healed by Vanna, but your brass shell would require a blacksmith – something we’re lacking aboard,” Duncan pointed out.

“Actually, Nina could assist,” Morris responded with ease, suggesting he had considered this before. “I’ve entrusted her with the blueprints of my design. She’s become quite adept.”

Duncan mulled over this information, recognizing the logic in Morris’s suggestion. Nonetheless, the thought struck him as somewhat peculiar.

At the same time, Vanna found herself at the forefront of the deck, her gaze lost in the distant sea, while an indistinct figure lingered by her side amidst the mist.

“I… can sense Her presence closer than ever before,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “It’s as though the entire ocean is filled with Her whispers… She’s speaking directly into my ear, yet the words elude me.”

“It could be that our proximity muddles the clarity, or perhaps it’s merely senseless babble,” Agatha’s voice emerged from the shadow, her tone serious. “However, you must exercise even greater caution here – as Her saint, your connection and sensitivity to Her influence surpass others, even under the captain’s safeguard. It’s imperative you remain vigilant not to lose touch with your humanity.”

“I understand,” Vanna acknowledged with a slight nod, appreciating the caution.

Agatha remained silent, lost in contemplation amidst the fog. Eventually, she broke the silence, her voice soft, “Have you ever wondered… what the realm of Bartók might look like?”

Vanna, taken aback, found herself at a loss for words.

“The dead Leviathans here form this archipelago, with the storm goddess lying at rest among them. This sparked a curiosity in me about the final resting places of other deities,” Agatha continued thoughtfully, “My faith tells me that souls journey through a gate to find eternal serenity in Bartók’s domain. My experiences affirm that the ‘messengers of death’ exist, navigating the spirit realm, heeding the call of the gatekeeper…”

“But where does this gate stand? Could it be located at the edge of our world as well? Are those messengers present there too? And the souls… the final wilderness they traverse, does it lie at the heart of a sea like this?”

“The concept feels… difficult to grasp.”

Vanna’s eyes widened, surprised to encounter such queries from a saint and a former gatekeeper. Yet, Agatha’s questions ignited a spark of curiosity within her, compelling her to ponder these mysteries alongside Agatha.

She shifted her gaze, peering into the depths of the distant fog, contemplative and curious.

The “temple” that the “Storm Codex” spoke of, the one that reigns over all storms and serves as the foundational pillar of the sea, what form did it take?

“There’s a significantly large island ahead,” Lucretia’s voice resonated within Duncan’s mind, tinged with a palpable sense of excitement, “And it appears there’s a substantial structure on the island!”

As if responding to their approach, the fog around the Vanished began to withdraw, revealing a clear path ahead. At the end of this newly revealed stretch of sea, bathed in the enigmatic and chaotic light cascading from the skies above, a colossal island came into view for all aboard.

This island didn’t seem to be a mere work of nature; instead, it bore the marks of an architectural marvel, a creation of an ancient civilization. It was constructed from countless enormous black stones, meticulously cut and arranged in complex patterns. These rectangular blocks, both large and small, rose from the sea’s embrace, assembling into an expansive, undulating edifice. Atop this monumental base stood a vast “palace”.

Crafted from stone-like “materials” that shimmered in shades of black and dark green, with crystal-green elements interwoven among the blocks, it boasted a facade that was both somber and intricate. The palace’s architecture was layered, supported by massive pillars at its base, while the upper sections featured numerous peculiar openings, seemingly designed to accommodate the passage of gigantic creatures.

“Amazing… structure,” Morris murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief as he beheld the grand palace in the dim light. After a moment’s silence, he managed to voice his wonder, “How was it constructed?!”

“Clearly, this is beyond the capabilities of our current civilization’s technology,” Duncan remarked, his observation casual yet profound. Then, something caught his attention at the periphery of his vision – those… “entities” emanating from the palace’s lower reaches.

They resembled immense limbs or tentacles, akin to those of sea monsters, stretching from the palace’s flank into the watery depths below.

Gomona is there.

“We’re drawing near,” Duncan stated with a sense of gravity, “We’ve located her.”