Deep Sea Embers

Ray Nora departed, taking with her the symbolic flame that had been entrusted to her by Zhou Ming. She, the queen of travel, along with her unique drifting home, vanished into the boundless, murky fog visible from the window. It was a considerable time after her departure that Zhou Ming, still standing by the window, took a deep breath, detached himself from the view outside, and looked away.

Zhou Ming had always harbored a deep curiosity about the “Frost Queen” and her enigmatic ability to navigate through the thick, seemingly impenetrable fog that enveloped the world. He was particularly fascinated by the concept of the drifting house, which was essentially the escape pod from the New Hope, journeying through what was considered the edge of the world. Despite knowing its origin, he struggled to comprehend the nature of its power and how it managed to traverse the fog-laden unknown. Ray Nora, however, seemed incapable of providing a detailed explanation for this phenomenon.

When pressed by Zhou Ming about how she managed to “travel” with such ease, Ray Nora’s responses were vague, attributing it to a sort of “instinct.” She described herself and the drifting house as a unified entity, navigating the fog as if she were merely walking through it, unaffected by the spatial-temporal anomalies or the energy requirements that one might expect to consider in such a scenario.

Zhou Ming found her explanation almost mystical, concluding that the escape pod must have retained its complete automatic navigation system. This system, transformed by the catastrophic events known as the Great Annihilation, could have evolved into what he termed a “supernatural characteristic” – akin to a “navigation instinct” that became apparent when Alice assumed control.

Regardless, the intricacies of how the “Vanished” was propelled through the fog at the world’s edge remained a mystery, yet this did not hinder its journey across the unknown…

Shifting his focus, Zhou Ming sighed lightly, clearing his mind of these ponderings, and approached his desk.

His desk was home to an LCD monitor, softly glowing, and a computer tower that hummed quietly, both appearing as conventional technological devices but functioning as usual, as if awaiting his command.

However, Zhou Ming did not engage with the keyboard or mouse before him. Instead, he sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the blinking cursor in the search box on the screen, reminiscent of a man confronting a reflection of his past self in a mirror.

After a moment of silence, he murmured, acknowledging the interconnectedness of his surroundings and himself, “You are part of this place, as is this desk. The floor, the roof, everything here is… and so am I. We all are, aren’t we?”

The cursor continued its steady blink, offering no response to Zhou Ming’s contemplation. Gradually, the light from the LCD screen began to fade, dimming to darkness until the screen resembled an empty mirror.

In this darkened mirror, Zhou Ming found himself staring back at his own reflection, a silent witness to his introspection.

At the periphery of his vision, Zhou Ming began to notice something extraordinary. On the surfaces of the seemingly mundane objects around him—his desk, the walls, the ceiling, even the corner shelves and the modest wardrobe that had been fixtures of his home for countless years—a soft, pale purple starlight started to emerge and swell. This was not just any ordinary phenomenon; it was a signal, an almost uncontrollable transformation nearing its critical threshold.

Then, an unexpected itch on his arm drew Zhou Ming’s attention downward, where he found the “World Tree” Atlantis, a tiny sapling, floating beside him. The small tree, with its branches tenderly brushing against his skin, seemed to convey a sense of unease.

Taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts, Zhou Ming gently lifted Atlantis, placing it on the desk with a delicate touch.

“Don’t be afraid, little sapling, it’s not time yet,” he whispered soothingly to the top of Atlantis, his voice imbued with a calm reassurance. A faint smile graced his lips as he continued, “I will make sure everything is arranged perfectly. You’ll be planted in fertile, stable ground where the sun shines bright and the wind caresses softly… Everyone will find their place there, Saslokha included…”

Now resting quietly on the desk, Atlantis seemed to respond with a soft rustling, as if it was whispering back, echoing Zhou Ming’s promise with the sound of winds from distant memories sweeping through the World Tree’s foliage.

Gradually, the encroaching starlight that had begun to infiltrate his room receded, and everything within his sight returned to its usual state.

“It’s not time yet…” murmured the “Singularity” within the confines of the apartment, a hint of anticipation in its tone. “The day has yet to arrive…”

…

In another scene, Goathead suddenly raised its head, its deep, obsidian-like black eyes fixating on the figure who had just entered. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if the entire cabin was bathed in diffused starlight, with a towering figure stepping through the Door of the Lost, radiating a power so immense it appeared capable of subduing the Vanished itself.

However, this illusion quickly vanished from Saslokha’s sight, replaced by the more familiar scene of the captain entering his cabin, much like any other day.

“Duncan Abnomar,” Duncan announced, raising his hand in greeting, cutting off any potential questions. “I’ve just returned from a ‘long journey.'”

“…I almost didn’t recognize you there for a moment,” Goathead admitted, its tension easing as it began to ramble. “You’ve seemed quite… ominous after your recent outings. Sometimes, when you walk in, I’m not entirely sure what to expect… Ah, excuse my rambling. Don’t take offense to my bluntness; the sight earlier had me a bit on edge. Are you alright? Do you need to rest? They haven’t returned yet, but I expect them soon. Shirley’s hunger should be well satiated by now, and we might be nearing our destination. Alice is still steering us…”

Goathead’s rapid-fire chatter hit Duncan like a deluge just as he stepped back through the door, his heart tangled with complex emotions from his journey. Duncan, barely able to process the onslaught, could only respond with an instinctive and sharp retort: “Quiet!”

The first mate promptly snapped to silence, the abrupt “clack” marking the end of his outburst. After a brief pause, Goathead’s demeanor softened, and with a sigh accompanied by a gentle smile, he offered a more subdued greeting: “…Welcome back, as long as you’re alright.”

Duncan let out a weary sigh as he moved toward the chart table, but not without giving Goathead a serious look and a nod of acknowledgment. “What could happen to me,” he said, his voice carrying a mixture of reassurance and introspection, “Don’t worry.”

His attention then shifted to the navigation chart, shrouded in a mist that seemed to erase all familiar landmarks. Beyond the world’s border, the chart’s once detailed depiction of the Boundless Sea’s routes and markers had been swallowed by an endless expanse of grey-white fog, with only the pale green lines indicating the Vanished’s own path faintly visible.

That ghostly trace on the chart showed they had traversed roughly half the distance to the world’s end, nearing what was labeled as the third node—this was the extent of guidance the chart could offer now.

Duncan found himself pondering whether the real Duncan Abnomar, the original captain who had dared to challenge the world’s border a century ago, had navigated with such a vague chart—or had he ventured forth without any chart at all?

Caught in these fleeting thoughts, Duncan’s attention was drawn by the cheerful sounds drifting in from the deck.

His crew had returned, their spirits high from their latest escapade aboard the Bright Star.

A surge of unnamed emotion rose within him, bringing a smile to his face. Duncan pushed away from the chart table and made his way to the door, stepping out to greet his returning crew.

Nina and Shirley, caught up in their playful antics on the deck, paused and turned at the sound of his approach. Nina’s face brightened with a beaming smile as she waved enthusiastically: “Uncle Duncan!”

Morris, momentarily pausing his pipe-smoking, removed the pipe from his lips and offered Duncan a respectful bow. Vanna greeted him with a warm smile and a nod. Shirley, perched atop Dog, laughed and flaunted a bit too proudly, “I ate a bit too much…” her gesture exaggerated yet endearing.

Nina, bubbling with laughter, approached Duncan carrying a lunchbox. “This is sweet pancakes and carrot stewed meat made by Luni. I’ll put it on the table for you, don’t forget to eat~” With these cheerful words, she briskly made her way past Duncan and into the captain’s cabin.

Duncan’s face remained lit with a gentle smile as he observed the vibrant scenes unfolding around him. His crew was alive with energy, engaging in conversation, laughter, playful jests, and occasional boasts. He watched sailors emerge from below deck, grumbling to Morris about the challenge of scrubbing “unidentifiable viscous substances” from the pots in the kitchen. Suddenly, Agatha materialized in the air, causing Shirley to make a run for it. However, her escape was short-lived as Dog, ever vigilant, gently tugged her back with the leash.

From a distance, Duncan silently observed these moments, as if attempting to etch each vibrant image and personality into his memory forever.

For him, this was undeniably the best day he had spent aboard this ship.

Then, his attention was drawn by a deep, resonant rumbling from above and a subtle tremor beneath his feet, signaling a shift. Outside, against the monotonous grey-white expanse that surrounded the Vanished, vibrant streaks of color abruptly sliced through the fog, heralding the end of their jump through the channel.

As the ghostly silhouette of the New Hope began to dissolve above them, the entrance to the jump channel started to disintegrate, unveiling a tapestry of grey, black, and dark red hues within the dense fog ahead. This visual tumult was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of ships slicing through water – they had reached their destination.

“…Jump stop…”

This announcement, somewhat garbled and distant, floated to everyone’s ears, prompting a unified rush to the ship’s side to witness the new scene. Duncan’s gaze, however, was momentarily drawn away towards the stern deck. In the next instant, Alice’s head appeared, peeking over the railing of the driving platform, her face breaking into a joyful wave: “Captain! We’ve arrived! It’s the festival of fire…”

In an expected twist, her head detached, tumbling down and coming to a rest at Duncan’s feet after a few bounces.

Alice, looking slightly puzzled, glanced up at Duncan.

He let out a resigned sigh: “Sometimes, I wonder if you do it on purpose.”

After a moment of reflection, Alice responded: “Save, save, save…”