Since discovering the eerie Holoss navigating through endless darkness and fog, Duncan had cautiously refrained from attempting to take control of its helm.
Because he couldn’t determine the true nature of the ship, nor what reactions his taking control might provoke.
But now, he knew that the ship was a shadow of the Holoss, an inadvertent "entry into a dream" by the mountain goat head had caused this transformation, alleviating many of his concerns.
It was ti to let the ship navigating in the Dreamscape know who the true captain was.
Duncan slowly made his way to the steering platform at the stern deck, his steps crossing the nearby iron hooks and ropes—silently coiling in the darkness, while the dark-colored helm at the center of the platform subtly swayed left and right, as if, even in this dream world, it was fine-tuning the rudder as if the goat head still dutifully controlled the course.
Duncan approached the helm, took a deep breath, and couldn’t help but recall the first ti he had stood at the control panel and placed his hand on the helm.
Temporarily casting aside irrelevant thoughts, he reached out and slowly grasped the wooden handle on the edge of the helm-wheel—the smooth, icy sensation transmitted through, accompanied by a slight resistance.
Duncan disregarded the resistance emanating from the Dreamscape. He marshaled the protective "Spectral Flas" that had boarded the ship earlier, ordering them to converge towards the steering platform, tightening his grip on the helm.
Within a second, wisps and strands of fla miraculously appeared in the darkness. The Spectral Flas instantly ignited the steering platform at the stern. Duncan’s body transford into a translucent Spiritual Body within the flas, the entire platform, including the helm, montarily engulfed in fire!
In an instant, Duncan felt the ship changing under his hands, feeling it solidify in his mind with a clear structure, just like the real Holoss—he sensed its deck, its mast, every sail and every line, as well as the chambers and corridors shrouded in darkness and secrecy below deck.
The whole ship emitted creaking and groaning sounds; this Holoss, ford from shadows and shaped by the power of the Dreamscape, seed to suddenly wake up. It finally recognized its captain, and every part of the ship seed to cheer, even previously still ropes and barrels beginning to sway in the dark.
And then, as the sails of the Spiritual Body began to fill, Duncan felt the originally slowly drifting Ghost Ship begin to accelerate as if it had a destination in mind, starting to sail in a certain direction through the dark.
Duncan, surprised by the changes in the ship, especially its sudden acceleration in the darkness, had barely begun to sense what lay ahead when a voice suddenly infiltrated his mind from nowhere: "...Who’s there?"
It was a sowhat naïve female voice, carrying a tone of being half-asleep, bewildered and vague, its presence ubiquitous in the darkness. The mont Duncan heard the voice, he saw lights and shadows erge before his eyes. Imdiately after, a massive structure lood from the dark ahead, with dim mystical lights appearing in the direction of travel!
It appeared to be a huge vortex, yet within the vortex, countless structures resembling vines or branches could be seen. Endless vines and branches surged from ahead of the Holoss, in a blink covering almost every inch of space outside the ship’s side. Before Duncan’s eyes, the massive plant structure occupied all his vision, continually extending and moving back as the Holoss sailed.
The sensation was as if the ship had suddenly "flown" into a "tunnel" woven from so massive plant structure. Vines and branches intertwined to form the walls and vault of the tunnel, bringing an imnse sense of oppression. anwhile, countless tiny lights erged along those vines, converging like water.
These "lights" eventually made contact with the Holoss, continuously approaching Duncan on the stern deck. Sothing seed to be gathering within the lights, yet it never ford a clear shape. They just kept converging, drawing closer as if searching for sothing.
Duncan, amidst the overwhelming visual pressure and mysterious glow, gripped the helm tightly. He controlled himself, determined not to leave the steering platform no matter what happened. Watching the dark vines and branches move outside the ship’s side, he felt the Holoss’s speed gradually decrease as if invisible resistance was slowing the ship down. Then, those wandering lights finally converged near him, and he again heard that naïve, child-like voice—
"Who’s there? Who’s that?"
Duncan stared intently at the lights as they ca near, aimlessly wandering around the control platform, listening to the voice echoing in his mind.
"Have you returned? Saslouka... have you co ho? It’s been so long since you left...
"I can’t see you... where are you? Can I open my eyes yet? Is it all over?
"I... I can’t open my eyes, Saslouka, I’m a bit scared, I can’t see anything... but sothing is coming...
"I’ve protected them all, I built a wall, you can see them when you return... but I can’t see you, are you there? Have you co back?"
The light continuously called out, wandering and gathering around the control platform, then dispersing into a chaotic flux. Several tis, the dim light even flowed near the helm, even touching Duncan’s cuffs and the hem of his clothes.
However, "she" seed unaware of Duncan’s presence.
"She" couldn’t see anything, as if... the owner of the voice was in a different dinsion from Duncan, existing in a different space-ti.
Duncan watched the wandering streams of light, listening to the voic...
Afterward, the faint light penetrated his arm, and the warmth it brought faded away as well, moving toward the stern of the ship as if it were from another dinsion.
But in that instant of contact, Duncan knew, or rather "confird," the na of this light and sound—she was Silantis, the World Tree of the Elves.
The na was directly imprinted into Duncan’s mind in the form of information, as if presenting... the contaminative nature of knowledge.
Duncan was stunned for a mont, and then he felt a sudden vibration from the deck under his feet.
The next second, the tremor spread throughout the whole ship, and the "Holoss," sailing in the dark mist, began to shake violently. The Spectral Sails rapidly extinguished in the darkness, the deck cracked in myriad lines, and everything that made up the ship began to fade and disintegrate—even the helm in Duncan’s hands started to lose its solid feel.
Duncan paused, then realized what was happening—
The stability of the Dreamscape was declining. The mont of "awakening" was upon them.
But this ti he had avoided the flas’ aggravation toward Silantis, and during their recent contact, he hadn’t felt any precursor to Silantis’s "awakening"... So why was the stability of the Dreamscape still rapidly declining?
...
The sudden, chaotic wind in the desert startled Fenna from her contemplation; she abruptly stood up from behind the sheltering rocks and looked toward the direction of the sweeping sandstorm.
The sandstorm rose like a barrier in the distance, and amid the dust and mist, everything quickly beca blurred, the jagged boulders appearing ethereal and distorted as if they might vanish from this world at any mont.
After a brief mont of astonishnt, Fenna received a ssage from the captain—
The stability of "The Dream of the Naless" was declining, and this Dreamscape was coming to an end.
The flying dust and the continuously twisting and fading horizon signaled that the boundary of the Dreamscape was swiftly drawing near.
Fenna sharply turned, looking toward the campfire on the opposite side, which was about to extinguish.
The ancient giant was lifting his head, his deep-set eyes ablaze with tranquil flas.
"Traveler, it looks like it’s ti to say goodbye."
Fenna hesitated for a mont, then suddenly reacted, "How do you... know..."
"I don’t know what is going to happen, but I can feel a journey temporarily coming to an end. You are leaving, aren’t you?" the giant spoke gently, slowly rising from the pile of stones, his figure towering like a spire in the wind, looking calmly into Fenna’s eyes, "You don’t belong to this ruined world—you have life in you, and this world hasn’t seen life in a long ti."
Fenna opened her mouth but found herself at a loss for words—at this brief mont before the Dreamscape awoke, it seed she only had ti for goodbyes.
The giant smiled, bending down to pick up the uniquely shaped long staff.
Fenna noticed, on the surface of the "walking stick," taller than the giant himself, a few more symbols had appeared.
They were letters, carrying an inexplicable sense of familiarity... For a mont, she even felt she could understand them, but in the next second, the aning of those words faded from her mind like flowing water.
They were characters she didn’t recognize.
"Traveler, perhaps we will et again," the giant’s voice ca from above, breaking Fenna’s trance, "and it might be quite soon."
Fenna flinched, "Why?"
The giant pointed towards the staff, "Because there’s a phrase here I haven’t finished engraving."
Fenna blinked and was about to ask sothing, but the sandstorm aggressively rushed toward her from behind—In the suddenly rising dust storm, her world rapidly shook and crumbled.
The next second, the world reconstructed itself, transforming into the familiar living room, the familiar dining table, and the familiar rooftop.
And those familiar faces reappeared before her.
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