Deep Sea Embers

In the days that followed, all who traveled the Boundless Sea witnessed the ominous radiance of the Black Sun—a misleading illumination that expanded and enveloped the entire world. As the last lighthouse on these waters, it cast its light across every nook and cranny of the sanctuary, providing continuous illumination for an unending sequence of days and nights.

Speculation about the source of this unusual “radiance” varied among the populace. Some theorized it was an indicator of the world’s ongoing decay, while others interpreted it as a sign of a transformation within the World’s Creation itself. Eternal optimists viewed it as a sign heralding the return of the sun, while ultimate pessimists saw it as a precursor to the end of everything. For many, however, this strange sunlight was merely an event to be ignored.

Creatures that had lost their self-awareness roamed aimlessly through the city, shrouded in mist and dim light. They ferociously devoured what they could vaguely “recognize” as food, their deep growls filling the air. At the same time, the city-states buzzed with a background noise of whispers emanating from their depths.

Over the ocean, immense, shifting shadows moved toward the coastline of the city-state. These were fleets of spectral ships, arisen from forgotten eras. Their crews—ghostly sailors and pirates—landed under the cover of night, melding with the shadows amid the howling winds, and their whereabouts remained a mystery once they departed. However, each dock and pathway seemed haunted by the soft echoes of sea shanties and distant calls.

At night, the city’s structures appeared to come alive, their original shapes obscured by the fog. Roofs seemed to grow eyes, chimneys twisted and stretched, windows developed sharp, fang-like features, and each doorway emitted loud, unnerving noises that contributed to the loudest cacophony the city had ever experienced.

In this disturbing reality, the awakened and frightened citizens constructed towering walls deep within the city. They communicated through the sewers and the remaining urban rail systems. In refuges like the city hall and churches, they maintained a semblance of order.

The inhabitants took turns sleeping, ensuring that vigilant eyes were always on the lookout in these last bastions, guarding against the transformation of walls and rooftops into animate, fleshy obstructions.

In addition, Night Watchers tirelessly patrolled the city, searching for the last survivors in completely distorted and ruined districts, protecting them from other dehumanized creatures eager to consume and obliterate their existence.

A vital directive had been issued from a distant northern city-state and had spread globally through various city-state alliances. Its message was stark and straightforward: Survive. Survive at all costs. Prevent as many as possible from falling before the arrival of the new dawn.

Although the usual processes of death were suspended, those overwhelmed by the night and madness still disappeared from this world, reduced to mere remnants within these refuges, unable to welcome the anticipated “dawn”—the final defenders of this world fought desperately to avoid this fate.

Within the high walls, those who were protected engaged in hopeful and cautious conversations about this “dawn.”

Talks of a new world emerging from the prolonged darkness filled the air.

Initially, no one knew how the news of this dawn had spread, or whether it was a deliberate act by the protectors. It might have been just a distant, elusive hope, but in this night of universal downfall, it was crucial to hold onto the hope that continued to thrive.

Lawrence stood atop a restored section of the ancient city wall that bordered the western district of Morpheus, silently gazing into the horizon.

This part of the city wall, recently refurbished and reinforced, now served as a formidable barrier protecting the frontier city-state. The massive wall stretched from the port to the steam hub factory, encircling nearly all of the city’s survivors.

Outside these massive walls, the few remaining survivors had taken refuge in two churches and nearby apartment buildings. The Night Watchers were diligently working to connect the underground networks of several shelters, aiming to include everyone.

During the night, a terrifying mix of roars and mechanical firing sounds from steam walkers erupted, intertwined with light flashes that pierced the dense fog before silence returned. After a considerable pause, a signal flare shot up in that direction, bursting into a persistent glow against the night sky.

The dim “sunlight” from behind the World’s Creation mingled with the light from the flare.

“It appears there are no survivors left in that direction, just the monsters that the city itself has spawned,” Martha’s voice emerged from a small mirror attached to Lawrence’s chest. “It’s getting late; we’re unlikely to encounter any new ‘awakened ones’ in those long-abandoned districts.” ℟άΝ𝐎𝐁ĘṨ

“Morpheus is not a large city. Our search operation here will soon conclude, and in the coming days, our main task will be ensuring safety within these walls,” Lawrence nodded thoughtfully. “However, in other city-states, the search for survivors will probably persist until the very end. In those sprawling, maze-like old districts, there’s always someone still clinging to hope, waiting to be rescued…”

The “sunlight” behind the World’s Creation dimmed briefly, then surged again, illuminating the entire sky.

“Who would have thought that the last to illuminate this sky would be the ‘Black Sun,'” Martha whispered. “Just a year ago, such talk would have been dismissed as madness, not even uttered by devotees of the sun.”

“But now, no one besides us even recalls what the ‘Black Sun’ is,” Lawrence sighed, shaking his head. “All the fear and reverence once associated with it have been relegated to forgotten history.”

He looked up at the dim yellow light spreading across the sky, where the forgotten “Black Sun” still shimmered faintly behind the World’s Creation, yet its light was no longer needed by any creature in this world.

It now merely served to guide the last remaining ship still navigating these dark times.

Footsteps approached from behind. Lawrence turned from the contemplation of the sky to see a gaunt, disheveled figure in an ill-fitting sailor’s uniform emerge from the mist and ascend the city wall towards him.

“Captain, I have returned to make my report,” Sailor said, adjusting the hem of his uniform and forcing a grotesque, unnerving smile.

Lawrence examined Sailor and winced slightly: “…Could you refrain from smiling like that whenever you greet me? It’s quite unsettling.”

Sailor responded by stretching his smile even wider: “Given my appearance, I’m considered quite handsome by today’s standards in the city-states.”

Lawrence spat aside and refrained from further teasing the grim figure, instead stepping forward to clap Sailor on the shoulder. “So, how was your time aboard the Vanished?”

Sailor paused for a moment, his face marked by deep lines that gradually relaxed as he reflected, “It was a good experience.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lawrence replied with a warm smile, shaking his head in amusement. “Now that your remarkable assignment outside is complete…” He gestured broadly with open arms, “Welcome back to the White Oak.”

Sailor returned the smile, spreading his arms wide in response, “Happy to be back.”

Quickly sidestepping, Lawrence joked, “I was just saying—no need for an actual hug. Go freshen up, your scent of rotten flesh is quite potent.”

…

“Mr. Morris has taken his family to the safe haven, and he has also joined the city wall guard squad… It seems when the head of the guard saw an elderly man volunteering, he initially rejected him, but then, Mr. Morris impressed everyone there with his capabilities by beating every youngster that dared to challenge him…”

“Miss Vanna has taken up a position at the cathedral—she’s now in charge of the watchmen stationed there. It’s known that they have several out-of-control priests detained within the cathedral walls, keeping her quite busy every day, but she seems genuinely content… She mentioned this to you as well? Yes, she’s pleased to be making a difference back in the city-state…”

“Did Sailor and Miss Agatha arrive safely at their destinations? That’s relieving… I heard that the ships heading north are becoming scarce, and with the deteriorating conditions in the Cold Sea, I had some concerns… It’s fortunate they arrived safely, as that was likely the last fleet to depart.”

“How is Miss Lucretia? Sampling the local dishes at Wind Harbor? Oh, really?… That sounds just like something a witch would do…”

In the background, Nina’s voice was a cheerful hum, while Duncan sat on the edge of the deck of the Vanished, a gentle smile on his face as he listened to her distant chatter.

“Do you and Shirley have any plans?” he inquired abruptly.

There was a brief pause before Nina responded, “…Shirley and I have decided to remain at the antique shop.”

“You’re not considering taking refuge at the cathedral? It might be safer there.”

“No, we don’t have other family, and we feel secure enough. Taking refuge doesn’t really align with our needs – now Dog and Shirley take turns patrolling the shop while I ensure it remains a beacon of light and warmth. Our little shop has essentially become a small ‘refuge’ on this street. Sometimes Night Watchers drop by for a break, and they all serve under Miss Vanna… Oh, they even call this place ‘the most reliable night safe house in the city-state’…”

Nina’s tone was lively, tinged with pride, clearly content with their setup. Duncan listened, his slight worry fading.

It appears that the two young women have creatively transformed the quaint antique shop into a vibrant and essential part of the community.

As Nina continued her easygoing banter, Duncan’s gaze was drawn to the changing light and shadows at the end of the transition channel.

The clouds stretched across the horizon, visible through the channel, their outlines highlighted by the diffuse ‘sunlight’, sketching the silhouette of the eternal curtain.

Finally, Duncan slowly rose to his feet and said, “Nina.”

The chattering girl paused immediately: “Hmm?”

“Get ready to look up—”