Deep Sea Embers

After listening to the lengthy explanations from Taran El, Duncan pondered deeply.

Without a doubt, the tales of the elves in this world are special. These ancient legends are unique, if not solely for one reason: their completeness.

After the Great Annihilation, the world entered the Deep Sea Era. The old world crumbled and toppled, a new civilization emerged, and communication between city-states had been severed for a long time. The Dark Age, with its numerous upheavals, led to the fragmented histories of nearly all city-states in the vast sea. Practically no race had managed to retain a complete lineage or tradition.

The worship of the Four Divinities, which emerged only after the onset of the Deep Sea Era, surged in prominence precisely because there was a break in the transmission of legacies and a void in mythologies across city-states.

However, among the elves, ancient myths were preserved and passed down. Even as the faith in the Four Divinities spread worldwide and older belief systems were condemned as heretical, these legacies remained intact. Although limited in numbers, the city-states occupied by elves accounted for only a small fraction of the vast sea’s territories. Moreover, their settlements were scattered, yet within these limited and dispersed elven territories, their culture, customs, and mythological systems remained consistent.

Could their success in preserving these legends be attributed merely to their “longevity”?

“Such a complete mythological system… might reveal truths about the world before the Great Annihilation,” Duncan murmured to himself.

“Many scholars have believed this for a long time. Elves are the only race that has retained a complete ancient belief system. Even though many of our ancient texts have been ‘corrupted’, our orally passed down myths remain mostly in their original form,” Taran El said, spreading his hands helplessly, “However, despite this, we can only study them as ‘stories’ and cannot directly use them as historical records from before the Great Annihilation.”

Duncan frowned, recalling words spoken to him by Morris long ago: “The vast contradictions between history and reality.”

“Yes, every scholar attempting to trace back to the Great Annihilation will face the brutal challenge of ‘contradiction’,” sighed Taran El. “We feel this deeply. The more complete the elven mythological system is, the harder it becomes to reconcile it with the present state of the world. The biggest point of contention is that during the creation of the world by Saslokha, there was no mention of humans or the orc people.”

Duncan remained silent, lost in serious contemplation.

Taran El continued, “Not just in Saslokha’s creation tale, but also in some of our other, less complete legends. Whenever the world’s description comes up, there is never any mention of the ‘humans’ or the ‘orc people’. You should understand how unusual this is.”

Duncan slowly nodded in agreement. Yet, for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, his mind was drawn to an image he had seen before—the moon.

Lifting his gaze towards the window, a pale golden “sunlight” permeated across the sea’s surface. In the distant undulating waves, he could faintly make out a glowing boundary resembling a cliff stretching horizontally across the ocean.

That was where the fallen object that Lucretia retrieved from the “border” was located; it was the site of the “mysterious orb.”

“Do you want to take a closer look at that object?” Lucretia immediately noticed Duncan’s focused gaze and promptly offered, “There’s a temporary research facility set up by Wind Harbor nearby. I’ve spoken to the folks there; they can evacuate non-essential personnel from the core area.”

Duncan hesitated for a moment, then lightly nodded, “Arrange it. That’s the reason I’m here.”

“Alright, I’ll contact the research facility to have them pull their people out,” Lucretia responded, then promptly rose and left the room.

Not long after her departure, Duncan noticed the Bright Star, slowly pivoting its bow and starting its course towards the distant, massive glowing entity.

The room momentarily held only Duncan and the elven scholar. After a brief lull, Taran El visibly tensed once more.

Fortunately, this awkwardness didn’t linger for long because Duncan preemptively shattered the looming silence, “I heard that during the sun’s extinction, you attempted to observe the surface of Vision 001?”

“Yes,” Taran El replied, placing his hands nervously on the table and fiddling with his thumb. “Lady Lucretia believes my dormant state is related to observing the sun, though I don’t think that’s the case…”

“What did you see?” Duncan pressed.

“…I recorded the visuals at that time. The document is now with Lady Lucretia. However, many of its key details were smeared—I did it myself, but I don’t remember why. If you’re interested, later…”

Before Taran El could finish, the room’s door swung open. Lucretia, who had only left moments ago, re-entered, “I have that document.”

As she said this, she walked back to the table and, from her pocket, took out a crumpled sketch. “I’ve left the ship’s navigation to Rabbi for now—he’s another one of my ‘crew members’. This is the sketch Master El made at that time. You can take a look.”

With a grave expression, Duncan immediately accepted the offered paper, spreading it flat on the table and scrutinizing its rough illustrations.

At first glance, Duncan perceived nothing but a chaotic jumble of lines. Other than the circular outline around the edges indicating that it indeed represented Vision 001, the heavy smudging within the circle had almost entirely obscured the original structure of the drawing.

Yet, after scrutinizing the sketch for a moment, a sense of familiarity began to stir within him. It was as if, hidden deep within the smudges, lay something he had once seen and left a profound impression on him.

With a furrowed brow, Duncan studied the sketch intensely. After what felt like ages, he finally lifted his gaze to meet Taran El’s. “You truly can’t remember?”

“I can’t recall anything,” Taran El admitted awkwardly. “It’s like my mind has automatically erased that part of the memory. I think… it must have been perilous information.”

“The paper itself doesn’t carry any contamination. Still, rashly trying to restore its ‘true version’ might be dangerous,” Lucretia added from the side. “I initially planned to hand it over to the scholars at Wind Harbor, but upon realizing its potential dangers, I thought it best to give it to you.”

Duncan exhaled softly, a slight smile creeping onto his face. “Are you beginning to rebuild trust in me?”

Lucretia seemed a tad uneasy. “…I just thought… you’d be more suitable… Of course, I trust you. My brother said that you now…”

“No more words, Lucy,” Duncan chuckled, shaking his head. He then solemnly pocketed the sketch. “I’ll take it with me and try to uncover its secrets. If I make any progress, I’ll notify you immediately.”

Lucretia appeared relieved, even perhaps a bit pleased.

Without another word, Duncan stowed the sketch securely and walked over to the window, silently observing the undulating sea outside and the gradually approaching “sunlight” visible from a corner of the porthole.

…

After a journey that wasn’t too lengthy, the Bright Star neared the “glowing fallen object” floating near Wind Harbor.

Now, the ship sailed past the makeshift dock.

Duncan stood on the ship’s front deck, watching the grand golden brilliance grow in his vision, appearing like a vast cliff soaring skywards, coming closer by the moment.

This was his first time seeing the “fallen object,” which until now had only existed in Tyrian’s descriptions, and that too from such close proximity. The overwhelming presence of the massive entity combined with the surreal luminosity it emitted felt both awe-inspiring and suffocating at the same time.

Duncan could easily envision the immense shock that Lucretia must have caused the elves of the area when she initially brought this entity near Wind Harbor.

Yet, as time went by, the elves seemed to have adjusted to the presence of this new “neighbor.”

“Is this dock what you referred to as the ‘research facility’?” Duncan asked, raising an arm to point at the temporary floating harbor on the nearby sea surface, seeking confirmation from Lucretia.

“Yes,” Lucretia nodded, “Due to concerns about the potential dangers within the ‘fallen object’, we’ve decided to conduct all our research over the sea. Master Taran El is one of the key figures responsible for this port. Additionally, there’s a small permanent outpost at the core of the fallen object, but the people stationed there have since been recalled.”

“I understand. Not everyone can handle close contact with a ‘subspace shadow,'” Duncan said with a chuckle. “Mr. Taran El has indeed handled it impressively.”

Hearing this, Lucretia hurriedly clarified, “It’s not entirely like that. After you’ve subdued your flames, you don’t look much different from an ordinary person. Most people won’t recognize you in this state… My main concern was that unrelated individuals might bother you…”

“It’s alright. Don’t be so anxious,” Duncan responded with a reassuring smile. “It’s natural for some to be fearful. I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

Lucretia quickly nodded, then glanced at the approaching luminous barrier, “We’re about to enter the luminous body. We need to navigate cautiously. I’ll have to take the helm personally.”

“Alright, go ahead.”

Nodding, Lucretia suddenly transformed into countless swirling, colorful paper fragments, spiraling toward the ship’s bridge.

Duncan stared in amazement at this display, witnessing Lucretia’s magical ability for the first time. As the paper fragments fluttered in front of him, he instinctively reached out and grabbed one, examining it with curiosity.

Almost instantly, a surprised cry echoed from above. The scattered paper fragments rapidly converged, reforming Lucretia’s figure.

The young witch landed on the deck in a rather disheveled manner.

And she slid quite a distance.