Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 574: Awakening from the Dream

The black carving started to rotate slowly on its wooden stand, producing soft, haunting creaking sounds. These noises felt particularly unsettling in the otherwise eerie silence that permeated the captain’s quarters aboard this “Vanished.” Made of obsidian, the figure’s pitch-black eyes swiveled aimlessly, passing over the spot where Duncan’s consciousness was projected multiple times. Finally, it stopped moving and murmured in a low, groggy voice, as though caught in a state of half-sleep, “Who… is there…”

Duncan felt uneasy about the figure’s response. It had clearly sensed something, but why didn’t it recognize the aura as belonging to the ship’s “Captain”? Deep in thought for a moment, Duncan finally came to a decision.

The ethereal link, established by his ghost flames, suddenly intensified. Using the flames as a conduit, Duncan poured his will into this shadowy, fog-laden space. In a swift action, he manifested his physical form, determined to uncover the mystery surrounding this mysterious ship sailing through the dense mist and the peculiar goat head that had captured his attention.

As the “Vanished” sailed through the dark, foggy expanse, ghostly green flames sporadically flickered into existence around the ship’s deck. A thin tendril of ghost fire eventually materialized out of thin air inside the dimly lit captain’s quarters. It crackled and sizzled as it rapidly expanded, outlining the tall figure of Duncan.

The moment Duncan physically manifested, his connection to this mysterious and dark realm became incredibly strong. Almost at the same instant, however, he sensed a shift in the environment. Both the foggy atmosphere and the very structure of the ship seemed to respond to some unknown stimulus. Everything around him suddenly blurred, becoming surreal and distorted. A sense of being unwelcome, as if the dark mist was actively resisting his ethereal flames, emanated from all directions. It felt like the strange realm he had stepped into was on the brink of rapid disintegration.

Duncan felt a wave of astonishment wash over him as he encountered an unprecedented sense of active rejection from the mysterious space. Throughout his past investigations—whether examining Alice’s spirit coffin, tinkering with an enigmatic brass wind-up key, or scrutinizing various occult artifacts confiscated from nefarious cultists—his ethereal ghost flames had never elicited such a hostile response.

He began to wonder if this unusual realm possessed some sort of active, powerful “consciousness.” These staggering thoughts raced through his mind, but he knew now was not the time for deep analysis. The stability of his connection to this place felt tenuous at best, so he shifted his focus toward stabilizing his ethereal presence while cautiously approaching the goat head perched on the navigation table.

Seemingly roused from its dreamy stupor, the black wooden carving abruptly lifted its head and locked eyes with Duncan. To the animated figure, Duncan’s sudden manifestation—his tall form and ghostly green flames—must have felt like an intrusive burst of illumination piercing the tranquility of a dark, secluded dream. “Who are you?” it demanded in a voice tinged with confusion.

“It seems you don’t recognize me,” Duncan observed aloud, not particularly surprised considering the earlier irregularities he’d sensed. Fighting to maintain his tenuous link to this enigmatic locale, he swiftly assessed the situation aboard the “Vanished” and regarding the curious goat head before him. “I am Duncan Abnomar—what is your name?”

“Duncan… Ah, the name rings a bell,” the goat head mumbled, its voice slurred and dreamy as if it were half-awake. It failed to directly answer Duncan’s inquiry. “But I can’t recall… why you’re here… why any of us are here…”

A frown creased Duncan’s forehead.

He could feel the already tenuous connection to this fog-shrouded, dark space beginning to deteriorate. It was as if the area itself were trying to repel him, or more specifically, to extinguish his ethereal flames. Adding to his concerns, the goat head seemed to be trapped in a semi-conscious state, unable to offer any useful information.

Pausing only briefly to collect his thoughts, Duncan took another deliberate step forward and gestured toward the sea chart next to the perplexing goat head. “Where is the Vanished sailing?”

A few moments passed before the goat head sluggishly processed Duncan’s question. Laboriously turning its carved neck, it glanced at the navigation map, which intriguingly displayed a forested landscape rather than nautical charts. After a lengthy pause, it mumbled almost incoherently, “Oh, good, they are still there…”

“Who?” Duncan shot back instantly, his urgency increasing. “Who are—”

Before he could complete his question, the entire space was rocked by a violent, quaking tremor and a low, ominous howl that seemed to emanate from the very fabric of the realm itself.

The sensation of rejection intensified exponentially as if the very fabric of space-time in this mysterious realm was rallying against the invasion of his ghost flames. Duncan could hear faint crackling sounds echoing around him, like his ethereal flames were coming into contact with an invisible yet impenetrable barrier. All the sensations he was receiving through these flames became muddled as if filtered through a layer of fog.

Lowering his gaze, Duncan noticed that his own projected form was becoming increasingly blurred, almost translucent. It felt as though the ethereal cord that tethered him to this enigmatic world was fraying, about to snap at any moment.

He pondered using stronger forces to overpower this resistance and maintain his connection but hesitated. Now knowing that the massive vine—and perhaps the realm itself—could be sentient or even “alive,” he questioned the ethics and wisdom of forcefully imposing his presence.

At that moment, the goat head on the navigation table seemed to finally become aware of the disturbance surrounding Duncan. Its eyes narrowed on the wavering green flames, and after a momentary pause, it spoke in a murmur so faint it was almost unintelligible, “Ah, you’ve frightened her…”

“Who have I frightened?” Duncan immediately questioned, seizing onto the new piece of information.

“Atlantis,” responded the goat head, its voice growing languid as if about to re-enter its dream-like state. “Atlantis doesn’t know you, and your presence has frightened her.”

Atlantis? The name sent a surge of associations and questions through Duncan’s mind. Was this the “World Tree” that ancient elven lore spoke of?

Just as he was gearing up to delve deeper with more questions, a powerful sensation of being disconnected overwhelmed him. It was like being violently pulled away from this alternate reality. The surroundings—the captain’s cabin, the navigation table, the sea chart—all dissolved into an impenetrable darkness. Only the goat head’s faint muttering lingered, echoing in the void. “Ah, it’s time—she’s waking up.”

In the next instant, Duncan felt a jolting sensation that snapped him back to his physical reality. He instinctively took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to find Alice’s doll-like face hovering just a few inches away from his own.

Startled by her unsettling proximity, Duncan stepped back abruptly. Alice responded with a brilliant smile, leaning in excitedly as she exclaimed, “Captain! Captain! The dawn is approaching, and it seems everything has returned to normal outside!”

Before he could chastise Alice for startling him, her words arrested his attention. Looking around, Duncan saw that she was right. The dense forest that had invaded and fused with the city’s architecture had inexplicably vanished. Even the street fixtures, once grotesquely entangled with giant plant life, were back to their original form.

Softly glowing gas lamps lined the roads, illuminating the area with a reassuring light. In the distance, rays of “sunlight” appeared to emanate from the distant coastline, casting their warm glow over the city-state. High above, the scarred fissure of the World’s Creation was becoming faintly visible through the light. And on the horizon, a glimmer of dawn seemed to break through the clouds, presaging the rise of the celestial anomaly labeled 001.

Although the world appeared to be returning to its original state, Duncan was left with a mind full of unanswered questions and a lingering sense of foreboding. It was as if he’d touched the edge of something far larger, something that he couldn’t yet fully understand.

Duncan blinked, his eyes instinctively drawn toward the incline deep within the city block where a colossal vine had once erupted from the earth. The vivid memory of his ghost flames penetrating the vine’s depths was still fresh in his mind. Now, however, the incline was empty—just an ordinary slope devoid of any supernatural elements.

Much like the slope, the rest of the city block had reverted to its normal state. As the sun began its ascent over the horizon, the night’s bizarre occurrences seemed to dissipate, like a dream evaporating in the first light of dawn.

For a fleeting moment, Duncan felt as though he were straddling the line between reality and an uncanny dream. His surroundings bore the disconcerting quality of a familiar space suddenly rendered strange by some invisible alteration. Yet, this disorienting sense of unreality was short-lived. Shaking off the feeling, Duncan’s focus sharpened as he turned his gaze toward Crown Street.

Stretching his supernatural perception in that direction, familiar life essences or “imprints” began to appear in his metaphysical field of vision—Nina, Shirley, Morris—all the energies that had been missing were now manifesting back into the material world.

Just then, the puppet head that Alice was cradling in her arms sprang to life. Its mouth flapped open and closed, and from it emanated the voice of Lucretia. “Daddy, it looks like we…”

“I’m aware. You’ve all returned, and so has the neighborhood,” Duncan interjected, not wasting a moment.

Catching movement in his peripheral vision, he noticed people gradually appearing on the streets. Locals, seemingly oblivious to the night’s supernatural events, ventured into the growing light of the morning. They engaged in mundane activities—sweeping the pavements, chatting in front of their homes, rushing off to their jobs, and discussing yesterday’s headlines and today’s weather forecast.

It was as if the entire community was resuming its everyday life, unaware that they had all vanished only a few hours earlier, swallowed by the mysterious dark of the night.

As the street scene grew increasingly animated, Duncan felt an eerie layer of strangeness settle over this burgeoning normality. It was as though the world had momentarily slipped into an alternate, inexplicable dimension before snapping back into its regular, familiar rhythm. This left Duncan not only puzzled but deeply intrigued, contemplating the boundary between the ordinary and the supernatural and how quickly and disconcertingly that boundary could shift.