“This will be your room from now on, complete with all basic necessities. If you require anything else, inform Alice; she will help arrange it for you, assuming she doesn’t forget.
“The room next door is a small storage room, which you may use for prayer or ditation since you are a devout believer and might need a space for that purpose.
“Avoid the lower levels and do not investigate the locked cabins. Occasionally, odd creaking noises or the sound of ropes rubbing against the floor can be heard from the ship’s depths. Don’t be alard; just let it be. If there’s truly an issue, I will handle it personally.
“Rember to follow the crew rules while living on the ship.
“Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”
Vanna stood at her assigned room’s doorway, gazing at the plain and ordinary furniture inside, feeling sowhat bewildered.
Simple bedding, tables, chairs, and cabinets – everything was spotless, with no suspicious shadows or hidden bloodstains in the room’s corners or any blasphemous symbols on the ceiling or floor. If not for the fact that this was inside the Vanished, it would have been just an ordinary cabin.
However, there were indeed so unusual elents.
The ship had a specific “crew code,” forbidden areas deep within the cabins, and the entire ship was alive, with ropes and buckets on the deck often making unsettling noises. These odd details sowhat aligned with her imagination of the Vanished.
Yet, these peculiarities were mild and virtually harmless compared to her entire imagination.
“…I’ve committed everything to mory,” Vanna slowly nodded, addressing Duncan, who had personally escorted her to her room, “I don’t have any more questions for now.”
“Good,” Duncan said indifferently, “Now store your belongings; dinner will start soon. You may skip the post-dinner deck barbecue if it doesn’t interest you; that’s just Shirley and Nina ssing around. However, you must attend the dinner since it’s an essential part of the initiation process for new mbers.”
“Yes.”
After so hesitation, Vanna quietly stored her belongings and left her massive two-handed sword in the room as well.
Taking such an enormous sword to the dining room would be too peculiar.
As she followed Duncan to the dining room, she remained silent the entire way.
Nonetheless, her troubled expression did not go unnoticed by Duncan.
“Feel free to ask if you have any questions,” Duncan slowed his pace, slightly turning his head to glance at Vanna beside him, “There aren’t many rules on this ship, and the most taboo thing during ocean voyages is crew mbers harboring secrets. The Boundless Sea will amplify your anxiety and confusion, and who knows when they might transform into unwelco guests.”
Vanna felt a chill in her heart. After hesitating for a mont, she finally spoke, “It’s nothing really, it’s just that the way things have unfolded isn’t quite what I imagined, and I feel…a bit at a loss.”
“Oh, that’s understandable. I can even roughly guess what the Vanished looked like in your imagination,” Duncan said casually, “A lively welco party on the first day instead of a dark, bloody sacrificial ceremony must be quite surprising, isn’t it?”
“It wasn’t quite as dramatic as… a sacrificial ceremony, but the scene I first imagined wasn’t as peaceful as it is now,” Vanna said with a hint of laughter, appearing sowhat more relaxed.
“That’s one of the reasons your Pope sent you to this ship,” Duncan explained slowly. “She needs to know the true nature of the Vanished, and I… also need you as a bridge to reestablish contact with the civilized world.”
Eventually, they reached the dining hall.
Beneath the swaying whale oil lamp, the long table was laden with dishes, with the steaming fish soup taking center stage. Crew mbers stood on both sides of the table, waiting for their captain as a low, slow creaking sound resonated from deep within the cabin. It was as if the ancient exploration ship were humming a ballad as night fell.
Vanna approached her empty seat and took in the delicious food on the table, its fragrant aroma wafting under the warm lamplight.
Alice stood and filled a bowl with steaming soup, placing it before the new crew mber.
“Please enjoy,” the doll-like woman said politely.
Vanna gazed at the soup bowl in front of her. During her earlier conversation with Morris, she had learned the “truth” about this special al and the unique symbolic significance of this dinner. Now, as she observed the swaying fish at in the thick soup, she felt montarily dazed, but the feeling quickly subsided.
“Is this my destiny?” she couldn’t help but murmur.
“No,” Alice shook her head, wearing a sincere and innocent expression. “This is your fish soup.”
Vanna was at a loss for words, and then a smile graced her lips.
It did sll quite good.
…
In the cathedral of Pland, Helena stood quietly before the statue of the Storm Goddess, watching the candles burning at the statue’s feet.
The ornately adorned candlesticks burned silently, and the flas atop them gradually rose in Helena’s view before flickering, splitting, spreading, and expanding.
In an instant, the cathedral, statue, and candlesticks vanished. Helena’s vision was filled with countless flas – large and small, near and far, high and low. The candle flas flickered and burned like stars in a boundless, dark, chaotic space.
Each cluster of flas represented a saint and the support on which the Storm Church had relied since its zenith.
Helena looked up as the countless flas in her vision shifted rapidly, with many drifting into the distance, leaving just one bright fla burning silently in the darkness.
She gazed at the fla, waiting patiently.
In her view, the fla eventually began to tremble, the oscillation growing larger and larger until, at so point, it flared up intensely. The fire soared several tis higher, with a faint green glow swelling within the fla.
The entire process lasted rely two or three seconds. Then, the fla returned to a calm state, emanating a faint green glow, burning brightly and silently in the darkness.
“… It has truly transford completely,” Helena couldn’t help but whisper softly before subconsciously raising her hand as though attempting to touch the quietly burning fla with her fingertips.
But she stopped just in ti.
In the darkness, the countless candle flas faded away instantly, and the scene within the cathedral returned to normal.
Helena raised her head and looked up at the shrouded statue of the goddess, which silently watched over the sanctuary.
Subtle light and shadow danced across the statue’s surface, and the hard, rock-carved exterior seed to take on the flexibility of a living being. Beneath the thick shroud, a pale, ethereal aura slowly seeped out.
The statue lowered its head, and translucent, ghostly tendrils ford from the pale, ethereal mist, slithering out from the edge of the shroud and dangling before Helena.
The tendrils coiled and expanded, awaiting Helena’s words.
“Your ssenger has boarded the ship and underwent a complete transformation two minutes ago. She is now a part of the Vanished,” Helena said, her gaze fixed on the tendrils, her voice calm and respectful. “However, she still retains her humanity and reason, as well as maintaining her psychic connection with the congregation.”
The tendrils swayed gently, producing a low, peculiar rustling sound intermingled with the soft noise of waves.
“Yes, I will monitor her condition,” Helena said. “But if her mind becos compromised – for instance, showing signs of being eroded by subspace – then…”
Two ghostly tendrils moved more assertively, the strange rustling sound now accompanied by a series of unintelligible murmurs that no human could produce or recognize.
“I understand,” Helena whispered, lowering her head. “I will do my best to ‘pull’ her back, and if the situation becos irretrievable, I will endeavor to ensure she returns to your realm with her humanity intact.”
The tendrils swayed softly, emitting a soothing whisper before dissolving back into the pale, thin mist and rising into the air.
The mist retreated beneath the goddess’s shroud, and the statue slowly resud its previous state of serenely watching over the mortal world.
…
Once night fell, the cold light of the World’s Creation again took the sky’s reign.
Icebergs dotted the sea surface, their treacherous, sharp edges making the waters especially dangerous while they lurked beneath the shimring waves. But this was no match for the towering steel warship as it sliced through the waves and sailed through the night, proudly progressing through the endless sea of ice like a king returning to his domain.
“We’ve entered the Cold Sea, Captain,” First Mate Aiden’s voice carried on the night wind. “We should be back at the main port around this ti tomorrow.”
Tyrian didn’t turn back while he stood at the bow: “Any news from Frost?”
“Our spy reports that Frost authorities have moved the submarine to Dagger Island near the city-state. There’s an old ocean observatory there, now being used as a temporary research facility for the ‘eighth Number Three Subrsible’,” Aiden replied. “It seems they haven’t opened the submarine’s hatch yet – perhaps out of caution or while waiting for higher orders.”
“Well, at least those fools have so basic caution,” Tyrian sighed, his brow still furrowed. “Anything else new?”
“Frost is still calm for now. The authorities seem to have suppressed any news about the submarine – not that it matters, as few people know about the subrsible plan from half a century ago,” Aiden said, shaking his head. “However, there’s another matter that seems unrelated to the submarine but worth paying attention to.”
“Another matter?”
“Yes, concerning… rumors of the dead returning.”
Reviews
All reviews (0)