Deep Sea Embers

The urgent bell rang rapidly, sounding seven short rings in succession, followed by a brief pause and another seven rings before repeating this pattern thrice.

Tyrian listened closely to the sounds coming through the window. He could hear conversations echoing in the corridor and hurried footsteps from the open space. These were the commotions caused by the senior priests running around to establish protection at crucial spots for the night watch. At the same time, the highest-ranking individual in the cathedral should have already retreated to a hidden sanctuary, getting ready to participate in the saints’ gathering.

Although Tyrian wasn’t a church member, he had lived for half a century and was well-acquainted with its rules. He could deduce vital information from the frequency and repetition of the bell sounds. It signaled a “listening” assembly, an invitation sent directly from the Tomb of the Nameless King, and it seemed quite urgent.

“Could there be an issue with an anomaly or a vision? Is it a new discovery, or has an old one changed significantly?” Lucretia pondered aloud, “It feels like it hasn’t been long since the last ‘call’…”

Tyrian listened to the commotion outside for a while longer before refocusing his attention and shaking his head, “This is the Storm Church’s own affair; we don’t need to interfere.”

“Mhm,” Lucretia nodded gently, then looked at her brother, “Do you have any more questions about Anomaly 099?”

Tyrian considered for a moment and shook his head, “No, that’s all. Besides, with the urgent bell ringing this evening, the cathedral will soon enter a state of night watch, so it’s best not to continue discussing matters related to anomalies.”

“Alright, then I’ll carry on with my own tasks,” Lucretia promptly said. The crystal ball on the table began to flicker slightly, and her figure started to fade. But just before the connection was severed entirely, she recalled something and suddenly said, “Oh, there’s one more thing, about our father.”

Tyrian hesitated slightly, “Go ahead.”

“Did he appear… normal when he came to see you this time?”

“He was very lucid, clear-headed, and even somewhat…” Tyrian hesitated but ultimately continued, “I can’t be certain, but he seemed almost affectionate.”

“Ah, that’s good.”

…

Vanna rushed into the cathedral and spotted Bishop Valentine already waiting for her in front of the goddess’s statue. She hurriedly approached and asked, “Why is there another call so soon? This has never happened before.”

“I don’t know, but this time the bell ringing is directly controlled by the Storm Cathedral, so it must have a reason,” Valentine nodded at Vanna, and as they walked toward the passage leading to the “Flooded Cave,” he spoke quickly, “Like last time, it might be due to direct changes in the list of anomalies and visions, with the tomb keeper sending out a summons.”

Vanna followed the elderly bishop’s footsteps. As she passed the statue of the goddess, she hesitated for a moment but soon bowed respectfully as she had always done before continuing toward the passage’s entrance.

Before long, they were at the flooded cave used for constructing the “psychic channel.”

The scene in the secret chamber remained unchanged, with the ancient stone walls perpetually damp and the fire basin in the center burning with an ethereal flame. It’s tranquil in here, masterfully created by the sounds of trickling water and echoing waves.

Then, the door to the secret chamber slammed shut.

Vanna took a deep breath, paused before the fire basin, and lowered her head to gaze at the flames that burned without fuel.

She attempted to calm her thoughts, gradually synchronizing her spirituality with the guidance of the goddess as the leaping flame filled her vision.

This process should have been routine, but Vanna found it quite difficult this time as she tried to not imagine the flames turning a ghostly green or the possibility of Captain Duncan’s eyes hiding behind the shadows.

Wanting help, she glanced at Bishop Valentine, who had already closed his eyes and breathing steadily, a sign that he had already entered the assembly.

Vanna reluctantly looked away, took a deep breath, and tried to concentrate her spirit once more, synchronizing her spirituality with the guidance of the goddess.

Fortunately, she succeeded this time.

Ethereal seawater swirled around her, gently enveloping her senses as they detached from the mortal body. Vanna momentarily felt disoriented before finding herself in the mysterious ancient assembly hall. The familiar boundless square, the ancient broken pillars surrounding it, and the vague human-shaped shadows gathered between the pillars filled her sight.

One of the shadows quickly approached her; it was Bishop Valentine, “Vanna, did you have trouble? It took you longer this time.”

“My mind wasn’t focused enough,” Vanna replied casually. She then noticed a striking figure standing at the edge of the square—a clear and beautiful woman dressed in a magnificent robe, quite different from the other blurred shadows of the saints.

Vanna, of course, recognized the figure.

“Pope Helena is here in person?” she asked in surprise. “I really picked a bad time to be late.”

“It’s alright; you’ll get used to being late,” Valentine said nonchalantly. “She was already here when I arrived. She might even have been the first one here. I suppose she might have some special arrangements…”

Vanna listened half-heartedly, feeling as if the clear and elegant figure was casting an almost imperceptible gaze their way. This kind of attention made her feel uncomfortable and even…nervous.

Just then, Pope Helena turned her head. She looked at Vanna earnestly, and a hint of a smile appeared before she nodded gently.

Vanna was momentarily stunned. She was about to return the gesture when a sudden, deep rumble interrupted her.

Looking in the direction of the sound, she saw the stone floor in the center of the square rapidly rise. The shattered ground rippled like water, and within moments, an ancient palace made of pale giant stones appeared before the saints.

The Tomb of the Nameless King had emerged.

The saints, who had been whispering amongst themselves, quickly fell silent, and an atmosphere of solemnity enveloped the square. Vanna also hurriedly collected her thoughts, ignoring the pope’s gaze, and focused intently on the pyramid-shaped main building of the ancient palace and its entrance.

The entrance opened, and the towering tomb guardian stepped out.

Wrapped in burial cloth, with half of its body burned and the other half entwined in chains, the horrifying creature made of flesh, steel, and deadly curses strode straight towards the saints gathered in the square, just as it had the previous time.

The chosen one had been decided.

The next moment, without any hesitation, it bypassed every shadow in the square and stopped directly in front of Vanna.

The tomb guardian lowered its head, its single eye calmly staring at the saint before it: “You may enter the tomb.”

It raised its hand, offering a quill and parchment, awaiting Vanna’s response.

Vanna was stunned—as were almost all of the saints.

The tomb guardian had chosen the same saint to enter the tomb twice in a row!

This had never happened in the past thousand years!

Of course, there were no explicit “rules” preventing the tomb guardian from choosing the same saint consecutively. However, over the years, the guardian had always chosen different saints to enter the tomb during nearby assemblies, which had become an unwritten “rule.” Even if a saint who had previously entered the tomb attended the assembly again, it was merely to follow orders and ensure the completeness of the “listening” ritual.

No one expected Vanna to be chosen again.

Vanna hesitated for several seconds, and the tomb guardian patiently waited with an outstretched hand. At that moment, she felt someone’s gaze again. The lady instinctively followed the sensation, only to meet Pope Helena’s deep eyes.

Vanna’s heart tightened, and she guiltily looked away, only then noticing that the tomb guardian was still waiting. The ancient, seemingly terrifying guardian calmly lowered its head and extended the parchment and quill a little further.

“Me again?”

Vanna asked subconsciously but immediately regretted it—why would the tomb guardian answer such an irrelevant question?

However, she then heard a hoarse, low voice coming from in front of her: “Yes, you again.”

Vanna was taken aback, and she looked up at the tomb guardian’s slightly fearsome face before taking the parchment and quill.

The tomb guardian seemed to nod slightly and said as it straightened up, “Please write what you heard on it.”

Vanna nodded instinctively but suddenly felt that something was amiss.

It seemed… that the tomb guardian had become considerably more courteous?