Deep Sea Embers

Soft, fluffy snowflakes gracefully twirled down from the sky as if participating in a slow, elegant dance. Their descent wasn’t suffocating or overwhelming; instead, it felt like a gentle prelude to a winter performance that would likely stretch on for some time.

Looking out a window facing the main street, it was possible to see pedestrians passing by, each carrying the weight of recent hardships. Scars—both emotional and physical, marred their faces—while their eyes reflected a deep, internalized fear, a haunting reminder of the crises they had lived through.

These emotionally battered city residents emerged cautiously from the safety of their homes, eyes scanning for familiar faces among the crowd. They exchanged hurried conversations, asking about those who had gone missing and seeking updates from the city’s more affluent districts. Sadly, some seemed trapped in the horror of recent events, notably the mysterious mirror invasion. These individuals would dart out of their homes only to retreat quickly, locking their doors behind them, paralyzed by the fear that every passing shadow could be a new threat.

Walking through the city’s intersections were heavily used steam walkers accompanied by worn and fatigued city protectors, sheriff’s deputies, and special guardian units. These patrols were comforting to many; they served as symbols of order and security amidst chaos. From the loudspeakers mounted on the steam walkers came announcements that aimed to soothe the population: the mirror invasion had been contained, the city would be under heightened security for the next 48 hours, and plans were underway to neutralize any lingering dangers. It was also declared that essential services like the delivery of supplies, the restoration of electricity, steam power, and fresh water would be prioritized, and a request was made for each district to report any casualties.

As the steam walkers moved away, their announcements distorted by the poor audio quality, a sense of desolation was accentuated, deepening the gloom that had already weighed down the snowy day. Yet, when the mechanical rumbles of the walkers faded into the distance, the thick tension that had gripped the residents began to ease, albeit slowly.

Shirley leaned her back against the living room window, pensively murmuring to herself as she watched the activity on the streets below. “I wonder how long this chaos will last… The cost of basic goods like bread is sure to soar.”

Sitting comfortably on a nearby couch, Nina exhaled a cloud of warm air. The heat visibly distorted the air in front of her as it moved. Hearing Shirley’s concern, she turned her head towards her and commented, “Things are bound to be disorganized for a while. I remember it took Pland three days to regain stability back in its troubled times. But we should be okay, especially with the sheriff’s forces still intact.”

“Hey, hey! Watch where you’re blowing that hot air!” Shirley exclaimed, stepping back from the window as if Nina’s warm breath had physically pushed her. “You exhale like a malfunctioning steam engine! Why is it so hot?!”

Quickly covering her mouth with her hand, Nina tried to stifle her laughter while apologizing, although small wisps of steam still snuck out from the corners of her mouth. “Sorry, sorry… I guess I kept that heated state going for too long.”

It was then that Duncan’s voice filled the room, sounding a note of caution: “I did warn you; Nina can only maintain her airborne form for a limited time. Her condition isn’t stable.”

At the sound of the familiar voice echoing through the room, Shirley immediately whirled around, her posture snapping to alert attention. Nina, who was radiating an unusual warmth, scurried over to Duncan with joyful eagerness. Her face was enveloped in a radiant smile as she exclaimed, “Uncle Duncan!”

Matching Nina’s smile, Duncan hugged her gently, seemingly unfazed by the heat she was emanating. He then shifted his focus to Morris and Vanna, who had risen from their plush armchairs and were now respectfully bowing in his presence. “You all seem to be holding up quite well,” he noted.

“We’re managing surprisingly well under the circumstances,” Morris responded, adjusting his ornate monocle—a habit he fell into whenever deep in thought. “I must admit, we didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

Vanna added her own thoughts, her voice tinged with both apprehension and awe. “After surviving the blazing catastrophe in Pland, I thought I had nerves of steel. Yet, here we are. It’s strangely comforting to engage in such a ‘normal’ conversation with you.”

Duncan waved his hand dismissively, downplaying the seriousness of the moment. “I can’t say I’m particularly fond of these irregular meetings. However, I have to admit, the perspective one gains from the heavens is rather breathtaking.”

As he spoke, his eyes narrowed in on an intriguing object placed on a nearby table. The object was a substantial tome, wrapped in a dark, forbidding cover that lacked any form of inscription or emblem. The book seemed to exude a strange, malevolent aura.

“Is this the so-called ‘Book of Blasphemy’ you confiscated from the lieutenant of the Annihilation Sect?” Duncan’s eyes remained riveted on the ominous tome. “It hardly looks like a benign read.”

Morris picked up the book delicately as if wary of its dark energy. “Indeed, it is. After securing it, I undertook a basic assessment, focusing primarily on safety concerns. My conclusion is that this is a replica, likely owned by a higher-ranking individual within the Sect. If it were the authentic original, its aura would be overwhelmingly potent, and it would be unlikely for such an artifact to be carelessly brought into the city-state by a mere follower.”

Morris paused, his tone reflecting a degree of uncertainty. “As for the book’s purpose, it could serve as a medium for disseminating their fanatical beliefs or possibly as a key component in various spells or rituals. It contains specific passages about the Nether Lord, which may act as a source of power for the Sect’s followers. These are, of course, just speculations.”

Finishing his analysis, he held the book out towards Duncan. “Would you like to examine it further at this moment?”

Duncan shook his head in polite refusal. “I’ll take a closer look once I’m back on my ship. The city is still in a state of disarray, and I’d rather not risk inciting more chaos by opening the book here. Especially given that we’re expecting a guest soon.”

“A guest?” Vanna interjected, her curiosity now fully aroused. “Who would be visiting us at such an unsettling time?”

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Duncan met Vanna’s gaze. “A friend of yours is on her way.”

Ignoring Vanna’s visibly perplexed expression, Duncan sauntered over to a sofa that faced the street. He reclined comfortably, settling into a relaxed posture as he awaited the arrival of their mysterious, imminent guest.

The subtle sound of footsteps filled the air, growing steadily closer as Alice made her way toward Duncan. Her face, reminiscent of a porcelain doll, was unflinchingly serene, exuding an aura of enduring hopefulness. “Captain, when are we planning to set sail for home? Right after our anticipated guest leaves?”

Duncan lazily lifted one eyelid, briefly surveying Alice’s ingenuous, doll-like features. “Do you believe we’ve resolved all our matters here?”

Alice looked genuinely puzzled. “What else is left to do? We’ve defeated the villains, and the crisis averted. Isn’t it up to the locals now to pick up where we left off, just like how it’s laid out in children’s storybooks?”

A subtle smile flickered at the corners of Duncan’s mouth as he continued to observe Alice. “And what else do these storybooks of yours say?”

Alice animatedly answered, “Well, they usually end with the prince and the knight living happily ever after.”

Caught off guard, Duncan hesitated for a moment before managing to speak. “In traditional stories, isn’t there usually a princess involved as well?”

Alice casually mentioned, “The princess ran off with the butler.”

Duncan paused, taking a few moments to process this before finally exhaling a soft sigh. “Where in the world did you find these peculiar picture books?”

Alice pointed towards Shirley, “She has a plethora of them stashed in her room.”

Before Duncan could comment further, Shirley suddenly sprang to her feet and darted toward the exit. “I found an old bookstore that was having a clearance sale, so I bought a bunch. You were the one who advised me to start with picture books, remember? I didn’t know they’d be so… unconventional. I can’t be blamed for their strange content, especially when the store was clearly going out of business!”

As she rattled off her excuses and sprinted through the living room, Duncan didn’t get the chance to admonish her. She had already flung open the door and appeared ready to bolt into the hall.

An unexpected thud resounded from the hallway, followed by Shirley’s astonished exclamation, “What the heck just ran into me?”

The room plunged into a bewildering hush: Alice looked utterly confused as she tried to make sense of what had just occurred, Shirley’s outburst took Nina aback, Vanna was shocked by Shirley’s recklessness, and Morris—the venerable elder—was still mentally grappling with the narrative of a princess eloping with a butler.

In stark contrast to the chaos, Duncan remained tranquilly seated on the couch, neither inclined to chase after Shirley nor particularly concerned about the turmoil at the entrance.

He simply turned his head, focusing his gaze toward the doorway.

A moment later, the sound of footsteps filled the room once more as a young woman cautiously crossed the threshold, finally entering their midst.

The woman who stepped into the room was a striking figure clothed in a black clerical robe adorned with the emblem of the church. A thick, black blindfold concealed her eyes, lending an air of enigmatic depth to her countenance. Her long, flowing hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of darkness. What captured immediate attention, however, were the striking scars marring the visible skin of her neck and arms. They appeared almost like deep fissures carved into the earth, and yet paradoxically, they radiated an otherworldly aura akin to holy stigmata.

In her firm grip, she held a wriggling Shirley, who looked simultaneously puzzled and chastened.

With a slight inclination of her head, the woman, Agatha, hesitantly addressed the room. “My apologies. I had meant to knock on the door, but it appears someone was in a bit more of a hurry to leave.” Her sightless gaze seemed to sweep the room, reaching out beyond the physical dimensions into spiritual contours.

In her unique perception of the world, where sight was not necessary, the room’s occupants manifested as luminous figures, each glowing with their own distinct aura. To Agatha, they looked like radiant constellations in a monochrome cosmos.

First, she perceived an older man, surrounded by shimmering streams of iridescent light. Tiny orbs of brilliance danced within the light, twinkling like far-off stars observed through the cosmic telescope of the divine Lahem.

Next to him stood an imposing figure cloaked in an enveloping darkness reminiscent of subspace. Within this chaotic abyss, a lone green flame flickered and danced, symbolizing a precarious but maintained balance.

Near the window, Agatha sensed a radiant arc of pure flame—devoid of mystical power but radiating such intense light and warmth that it seemed to ignite the very air around it. Merely “looking” at it felt as if her soul were being engulfed in an incandescent blaze.

Centered in the room was what appeared to Agatha like an empty vessel. It was encircled by countless thin tendrils of energy, all emanating a sense of curiosity as they directed themselves towards her. It sent a shiver down her spine, the unsettling feeling that her very essence could be ensnared, woven into this intricate tapestry of spectral threads.

But amidst these powerful presences, one stood out as overwhelmingly dominant—a celestial figure that seemed to move towards her, bathed in the iridescent glow of heavenly bodies.

“Welcome,” the stellar entity spoke, each word shimmering like a distant sun. “I’ve been waiting for your arrival for some time now.”

This being was unmistakably Duncan, although he appeared to her heightened senses as a radiant embodiment of cosmic energies. The celestial aura that enveloped him was powerful and awe-inspiring, yet it carried with it a sense of welcoming warmth that immediately set Agatha at ease.