Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 706: Familiar Fog

On the forecastle deck of another Vanished, Vanna was slightly furrowing her brow. She tilted her head, tuning her senses to pick up distant sounds carried by the wind. After a moment, she turned and nodded at Duncan, conveying, “Commander Sandra of the Tide has extended her greetings and respects, and she’s inquiring about our next course of action.”

With a firm nod, Duncan responded, “We’ll wait for the arrival of the Resolved and the Unresolved. Once they’re here, we will venture into the denser parts of the fog. However, it’s crucial to remain within the area lit by the flame beacon for safety.”

Vanna promptly relayed Duncan’s orders to the rest of her companions from the church. Meanwhile, Duncan became intrigued by Vanna’s method of psychic communication. She was silently reaching out to fellow believers of the storm through a blend of meditation and prayer. Observing her with a curious eye for a moment, Duncan’s thoughts then shifted, “Do you think we should consider installing a radio on the Vanished?”

“If your intention is to use it in safer waters, then it would be fine. But employing it in this border region… I wouldn’t recommend it,” Vanna answered earnestly. “Here in the border sea, machines tend to succumb to corruption quite easily. Only devices like steam cores, which are heavily protected, can continue to operate reliably. But radios, in particular, are highly susceptible to problems.”

“Radios tend to pick up ‘voices’ from unidentified sources when switched on,” Lucretia said. “These voices have the potential to taint the mind, and some unknown entities might use the radio as a conduit to infiltrate the real world, subtly corrupting devices that aren’t safeguarded by steam. That’s why ships usually deactivate their radios and even internal communication systems when navigating the border sea.”

“Entities can infiltrate the real world through a radio?” Duncan raised an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and fascination evident in his expression. “So, do the patrol ships operating in this border typically rely on psychic communications, like what Vanna is using?”

Vanna touched the symbol of the Storm Goddess Gomona on her chest reverently, “Psychic resonance isn’t just a method of communication; it’s a miracle bestowed upon us by the gods. Much like our steam-protected machinery, the messages sent through psychic resonance are sanctified. They are less likely to be corrupted or twisted in this chaotic border sea. But this doesn’t guarantee absolute safety. Psychic communication, too, can be interfered with and tainted. In this perpetually enshrouded fog, there’s no such thing as complete certainty or safety.”

“Is that so…” Duncan pondered, his mind teeming with as much curiosity and thirst for understanding about the border as he had felt when he first stepped onto the land of the city-state. He turned, directing his question to what appeared to be an empty part of the ship, “What about you, Agatha? Your ‘psychic communication’ with the Resolved and the Unresolved—does it resemble Vanna’s method? As a ‘shadow,’ is the way you connect with other death priests distinct from the standard form of psychic communication?”

From the semi-transparency of the deck, Agatha’s faint form materialized, her voice a ghostly whisper in the air, “It doesn’t feel much different to me. Even in this state, I sense Bartok’s blessings when I ‘remember,’ and I can hear the voices of other brothers and sisters from the church. Surprisingly, after arriving here, the voices seem even clearer than they did in my ‘memory,’ which is quite astonishing.”

Here, Agatha was referring to her “memory” as her past life as a gatekeeper—though that life was an illusion, her recollections remained profoundly true to her real identity, lending great credibility to her perceptions.

The notion that this “replica” of Agatha, existing in a “shadow” form, could perceive psychic communications more clearly in the border sea than in her memories was a paradoxical and intriguing concept to Duncan. He had assumed that this replicated version of Agatha, especially in matters involving divine magic and miracles, would be less potent than the “original” left back in Frost. However, the reality within this enigmatic border sea seemed to defy his expectations.

What, then, was the true nature of the “spiritual resonance” employed by the priests of the Four Divine Churches and the essence of the psychic communications they established?

Duncan’s mind raced with these reflections, but his contemplation was abruptly cut short—

“They’re here,” announced the shadowy figure of Agatha suddenly, “The Resolved and the Unresolved are nearing.”

From deep within the fog, the shrill sound of steam whistles pierced the air. Two massive black ironclad ships, featuring towering bridges, small chapels at their rears, and hefty main guns on their fronts and sides, began to emerge, escorted by four smaller ships that moved with the fog’s undulations.

The leading ship’s bright spirit fire beacon cast a dim light on the approaching vessels. In response, the two ironclads sounded their whistles once more, flashing a series of light signals in greeting.

“Commander Polekhine of the Resolved and Commander Orlando of the Unresolved extend their greetings and respects,” intoned Agatha, her form nodding slightly towards Duncan. “They’ve dispatched scout boats to survey the immediate vicinity and found no signs of Annihilators nor any small islands that might act as temporary bases or outposts. However, within the Veil, the scouts detected some peculiar noises, confirming that something indeed lies in that direction.”

Hearing Agatha’s report, Duncan’s face took on a more grave expression. He took a deep breath, steadying his thoughts and emotions.

“Let’s embark—once more, I must stress, stay within the illuminated radius of the spirit fire beacon.”

As the damaged “leading ship” commenced its slow acceleration, this makeshift “United Fleet,” formed by an alliance of the Storm Church, the Death Church, and the “Vanished Fleet,” began its voyage towards the eternal veil, progressively delving into the vast, oppressive fog.

The sky-engulfing mist advanced like an impenetrable barrier, morphing at a certain point into layered veils encircling the fleet. The sunlight receded, its beams gradually diminishing until they were no more. As the fog intensified, a chaotic yet oddly luminous “sky light” slowly overtook the previous daylight, becoming the prevalent ambiance of this murky maritime zone.

Thirty minutes after crossing into the veil’s border, the fog began to “accumulate” markedly, growing thicker and adopting a viscous, almost “tangible” consistency. It resembled solid masses, unevenly distributed as far as the eye could see.

Indistinct shapes seemed to dart through these dense mists as if stealthily observing the fleet that had dared to intrude upon their domain, unwelcome spectators in a sea that did not welcome them.

A hush fell over the deck. Even the usually loquacious Shirley seemed to intuit the shift in the atmosphere and remained silent, her eyes fixated on the “fog clusters” skirting the ship, resembling sentient entities with faint shapes shifting within them.

“This… this doesn’t seem quite like the ‘fog’ I’m familiar with…” Dog commented in a low voice, “It’s also different from what we encountered outside the veil…”

“Beyond the veil, the nature of the fog shifts to this state as if the boundary between reality and illusion is blurred. The omnipresent fog starts to form into clumps, almost as if some intelligent force is amassing it…”

Lucretia remarked, standing at the deck’s edge. She reached out, lightly touching the mist that streamed past the ship, almost like a river in the air.

“However, these dense fog clusters are hollow at their core. Don’t be too quick to trust any solid form you discern within the fog unless it exhibits definitive signs of life. Otherwise, it’s wiser to consider everything an illusion or a figment of your imagination.”

“Is it really safe for you to touch it like that?” Shirley couldn’t help but interject after witnessing Lucretia’s gesture, “The fog looks so scary!”

“While the fog is indeed perilous, it’s not some corrosive toxin. If it were, we’d have perished upon entering the veil,” Lucretia glanced at Shirley and shook her head, “With sufficient knowledge and the right approach, this is a ‘comparatively safe zone’ within the six-mile radius of the border seas… Yet, despite caution, many have still met their end in this so-called ‘safe zone.\'”

As Duncan stood beside them, listening to Lucretia and Shirley’s conversation, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the gathering and dispersing mist, his face etched with contemplation.

“Papa, are you thinking about something?” Lucretia noticed Duncan’s quiet demeanor.

Duncan blinked, then after a brief pause, he finally whispered, “It seems familiar.”

“Familiar?” Lucretia probed.

Duncan hummed in confirmation, his eyes still locked on the shifting fog clumps. He observed the vague shapes within the mist, the dim light from above, and the peculiar textures intermittently revealed among the moving clouds, his expression growing increasingly thoughtful…