Deep Sea Embers

At the historic location where the Sea Song once embarked on its journey, the dock now stands deserted. The ship had found its way back through an accidental journey to 1675, but it’s clear that it can never return to this spot again.

“I remember this place too…” Sailor whispered, his gaze fixed on the pier that was now bathed in the bright glow of powerful lights. The docks, extending from the movable harbor, seemed like the sprawling limbs of a colossal creature, each stretching out towards the infinite expanse of the night sky. In this remote area, far from the glow of city lights, stepping beyond the illuminated docks felt like venturing into oblivion—a leap into the dense, dark fog that required immense bravery.

“We’ve got three escort ships lined up for you. They’ll act as guides,” Helena explained. “Once they’re all set, they’ll accompany you through the fog and lead you to the ‘lighthouse,’ the last known location from which the Sea Song transmitted its signal. From that point, you’ll push forward, crossing the six mile limit. The three battleships, serving as your navigational guides, will remain near the lighthouse, awaiting your return.”

Duncan responded with a silent nod. Fueled by curiosity, Lucretia inquired, “How long will you wait for us here?”

“Indefinitely,” Helena replied with a light tone. “The era of pioneering patrols is coming to an end. The Eternal Veil is slowly disintegrating, leading to an increase in ships encountering strange and perilous mutations. Most of the patrol paths have become impassable. As a result, aside from maintaining some critical observation points, the patrol fleets are withdrawing to safer areas within the Boundless Sea. This movable port and my presence here will remain until you return. Or…” She trailed off, then took a deep breath and fixed her gaze on Duncan, expressing her hope for their safe return.

“We’ll make it back safely,” Duncan assured her confidently, his arms crossed as he stared out at the foggy horizon. “Both the Vanished and the Bright Stars have managed to return from beyond that boundary, and now, with Captain Caraline’s ‘map,’ nothing will prevent our return.”

Helena gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.

Following this exchange, Duncan and his team finalized their preparations at the frontier outpost. When the three escort ships, designated as their navigational guides, were ready, they embarked on their journey. It was a moment that would blend into the countless others in the vast expanse of the night, marked by the resounding farewell whistle from the movable port.

Three modern warships adorned with the emblem of the Storm Church, accompanied by two ancient “ghost ships” that had witnessed a century, departed from the dock. As they moved further away, the bright illumination of the port dimmed, leaving them enveloped by the thickening night. The dense fog, alive under the cover of darkness, turned an even deeper shade of black, exerting a formidable pressure that seemed almost alive.

Standing on the ship’s elevated stern deck, Duncan couldn’t help but cast his gaze back towards the port. As they moved further away, the bright lights of the port began to fade into the distance. In this moment of transition, Duncan recalled the parting words of the Cretan he once met—advising him to “walk against the light.”

This notion of moving against the light wasn’t new; the Doomsday Survey Team had embraced this approach, as had the Sea Song during its historic departure from this very port. Now, it was the turn of the Vanished and the Bright Stars to embark on this challenging path.

Following those who dared to confront the unknown, each venture against the light represented a step deeper into the unexplored. Now, the crew of the Vanished was on the cusp of reaching the true “beyond” of their world.

Standing beside Duncan, Alice was visibly fascinated by the ominous fog ahead. The closer they got, the more she craned her neck upwards, eventually expressing her astonishment with a mix of fear and wonder, “Wow… it’s even scarier than during the day… bah.”

Predictably, as she looked up beyond a certain angle, her doll head came off. Duncan, without even looking, caught Alice’s head by the hair and brought it in front of him, slightly annoyed, “When will you ever learn…”

With her eyes blinking, Alice protested, “Captain… don’t grab the hair… hair falling out…”

Nonchalantly, Duncan handed back Alice’s head, which she quickly reattached to her neck. She then noticed a single strand of hair had come loose, which she held sorrowfully, lamenting, “Another one… poor Kalenifoskina Portitas Angwenistan Leforgen IV…”

Duncan, caught off guard by the elaborate name, asked incredulously, “…Have you started naming them that outrageously?”

Alice remained silent, her head bowed as she twirled the strand of hair with a somber expression.

Observing this, Duncan cautioned her, “…Be careful not to get it stuck in your finger joints. Last time, it was quite the task to clear the hair from your joints.”

While they exchanged these words, Duncan’s attention returned to the “Eternal Veil” that was beginning to envelop the bow of the Vanished. He noticed something peculiar—the fog was becoming darker, not just from the absence of light, but its very essence seemed to be shifting in color.

Under normal circumstances, fog, even at night, would appear lighter in color and become more visible when lit. The stark darkness of this fog hinted at something unnatural.

Concerned, he promptly communicated with Vanna, who was positioned on the forward deck, asking her to check on this anomaly. Vanna quickly relayed information from the leading ships through their mental link.

“The color of the fog has been gradually changing over the past two days,” Vanna informed him, “notably after the Sea Song ventured beyond the six-mile mark. However, this alteration is only on the surface; deeper within the fog, its color remains lighter, as expected.”

She briefly paused, apparently still in mental communication with her colleagues at the church for further details, before adding, “The scholars have conducted numerous examinations. Other than the alteration in the color of the surface layer, these dense fogs have remained unchanged—there’s no presence of toxins… It’s as though only the ‘color’ attribute is affected in this superficial layer…”

Hearing Vanna’s update, Duncan’s face took on a contemplative seriousness, nodding slowly as he watched the dark fog increasingly shroud the bow of the Vanished.

In response to the growing darkness, all ships in the fleet reduced their speed and activated various warning and navigation lights along their structures. The Vanished, the escort ships, and the Bright Stars tightened their formation, carefully maintaining a safe distance from one another to prevent any mishaps. The visibility around them diminished rapidly, necessitating this close formation to ensure that no ship strayed or collided with another.

Surrounding the Vanished, ethereal flames of a ghostly green hue began to emerge, casting a spectral light. These spirit fires seemed to cut through the dense, dark fog, faintly illuminating the shapes of nearby ships amidst the swirling mists.

The black fog that enveloped the fleet moved like living, undulating veils, creating a surreal atmosphere around the ships.

After setting the green flames ablaze, Duncan remained focused on the fog, his brow furrowed in thought. Abruptly, he headed towards the captain’s quarters.

“Umm, Captain, where are you going?” Alice called out, puzzled by his sudden departure.

“Just stepping away for a moment,” Duncan replied with a casual wave, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back shortly.”

As he moved, he mentally signaled his first mate: “Goathead, you’re in charge of the Vanished. I need to step out for a bit. If we reach the six-mile mark and I haven’t returned, inform the others to hold position.”

“Understood, captain.”

Duncan quickly arrived at the door to the captain’s quarters. Before him stood the enigmatic “Door of the Lost,” silent and imposing as always.

He inhaled deeply, then pushed the door open, stepping through.

The transition was marked by a cool breeze and a brief moment of disorientation, a sensation now familiar to him. Zhou Ming found himself back in his modest bachelor apartment, the window revealing the perpetual gray-white fog that obscured the world beyond his small dwelling.

This time, however, Zhou Ming didn’t head towards the window to peer outside. Instead, he turned to observe the path he had just taken.

The main door of the apartment stood ajar, revealing the surging black fog outside. This was not the first time he had encountered it; on the day he had first chosen to step through this door, the same black fog had greeted him—it was this very fog that had served as a conduit from his “shelter” to the Boundless Sea, marking the beginning of his journey aboard the Vanished.

Zhou Ming’s expression deepened with concern as he pondered a mystery that had intrigued him—why was it that the fog obscuring the world outside his windows was a benign gray-white, yet the fog that lingered outside his apartment’s main entrance bore an ominous shade of black?

Now, this same unsettling black fog had begun to manifest at the edges of the Boundless Sea.

Could this phenomenon be a harbinger of impending doom? A sign that the barriers between worlds were weakening? Or perhaps it signified that from the moment he dared to traverse the black fog, his fate was intertwined with a pivotal moment on the brink of the end?

The Sea Song, in its return to the Boundless Sea lacking precise “navigation,” was misplaced into the year 1675. However, when Zhou Ming stepped through the black fog, he was transported directly to the Vanished in the year 1900—eerily close to what felt like the eve of the world’s end.

“Beyond the six-mile boundary, time loses its continuity…”

“Without precise ‘navigation,’ the point in time one arrives at when re-entering the Boundless Sea through the six-mile threshold is unpredictable…”

“There must be some way to determine the ‘time landing point’ with accuracy…”

Zhou Ming whispered to himself, attempting to organize his jumbled thoughts. After a moment, he began to move towards the room.

However, as he walked past the window, he abruptly stopped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something on the window glass.

There, etched in faint, mist-like, mirror-reversed script, was a line of text.

At this discovery, Zhou Ming’s sense of astonishment and disbelief surged. He stood frozen for a brief second, then swiftly moved to the window as if propelled by a sudden gust of wind!