Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 812: Sand and Fire

In an instant, the fragmented memories loudly pieced themselves back together, and Vanna’s confused and estranged thoughts snapped back into sharp focus as though the entire world had been set right with a single breath.

Once obscured by a haze of yellow sand as if under siege by unseen forces, the sky began to clear as the winds carried the sand away. Simultaneously, wisps of black smoke materialized from thin air, swirling and merging back into Vanna’s form. Memories of her name, her past, and the path that had led her to this moment flooded back. She remembered everything about the Vanished and the missions she had shared with her captain.

As she turned, her eyes met with the tall, dignified presence of Duncan standing beside her. He observed her silently, with a patience that suggested he had been there all along.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Vanna shook off the lingering confusion and disorientation. After a moment of silent reflection, she murmured to herself, “It feels as though I’ve been ensnared in a lengthy dream—what a prolonged and winding journey it’s been.”

“Thankfully, you didn’t become utterly lost,” Duncan replied, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “There was a time, amidst the ashes of the forgotten history, when your silhouette seemed almost imperceptible to me.”

A fleeting sensation of fear brushed against Vanna’s heart, but she quickly dismissed it. Looking around, she realized that the endless desert and the ruins it cradled hadn’t vanished with her return to clarity.

This place wasn’t merely a figment of her imagination, crafted solely for her benefit. It truly existed at this unique juncture, a peculiar “anomaly”—an eternal dream sustained by a ceaseless ember, an alternate layer of “reality.” She had awakened within the dream of an ancient deity yet hadn’t escaped this vast illusion.

Nevertheless, her awakening triggered a transformation. The once vivid and imminent vision of a bustling city receded into the shadows, and the phantom noises of streets and alleyways dissipated entirely. Now, the city lay in silence, a testament to ruin, lit only by floating orbs that cast a soft glow on the crumbled walls.

Reflecting on Duncan’s words, “the burned history,” Vanna began to grasp the true nature of this desert. She then recounted her visions: the coronation of the Frost Queen, a convocation during the era of archaeological discoveries among the old city-states, and the wanted posters of the Mist Fleet. These glimpses, she realized, were remnants of stories that the flames had spared.

Upon hearing Vanna’s observations, Duncan calmly offered, “…the afterglow lingers.”

Vanna’s expression shifted, adopting a grave demeanor as she remembered her initial encounter with this ash-covered isle, the subtle red glow buried within the warm ashes, and the distant columns of smoke rising into the sky.

“What about the others?” Vanna asked, momentarily pushing aside the nagging unease that tugged at her heart.

“They’ve pulled back to the ship for now,” Duncan replied casually. “The dynamics at this ‘node’ have shifted, possibly due to the critical conditions in Ta Ruijin, or maybe because ‘history’ as a concept holds unique significance here. The ash here is excessively perilous… I ventured here alone to find you.”

“I’ve caused you concern,” Vanna sighed, her voice tinged with regret.

“Let’s not dwell on that,” Duncan dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Instead, tell me what you’ve gone through. Do you still remember everything? What insights have you gathered about this ‘desert’ now?”

Vanna took a moment to steady her emotions and collect her thoughts, aware that the captain still had objectives to fulfill in this vast, sandy expanse. She began to share the details of what she still remembered about her ordeal in this endless desert – the whispers that reached her, the remnants of ruins she stumbled upon, and the distinct “ding, ding, ding” sound that accompanied the rise of the wind and sand.

She admitted that her recollections of the initial part of her “journey” were fuzzy at best. Upon her arrival in this boundless sea of sand, her mind was clouded for a considerable duration. Yet, one vivid impression remained –

“Forgetfulness and a sense of being lost dominate my earliest memories of the journey, almost as if I had intentionally etched those sensations into my subconscious. It’s as though I was conscious of the transformations occurring within me but was powerless to counter them. My only recourse was to engrain this feeling deeply within me, hoping it would later serve as a reminder of the ‘forgetfulness’ I experienced…

“My memories became clearer only after I had forgotten my name and my past. That’s when the ruins started appearing more frequently within the desert, and the voices began to emerge. This transition marked a gradual ‘assimilation,’ the most dangerous aspect of which was its subtlety. There was no malevolence; it was akin to the erosion caused by a gentle breeze or the sun’s rays – imperceptible until it was too late, and by the time I became aware, I found myself unable to leave the city.”

As she shared this, Vanna took a cautious breath, still feeling a shiver of fear from the memory of her descent into confusion and the sense of being utterly lost. Then, something else came to her mind.

“Actually, before I recalled anything about the Vanished, I encountered someone else who seemed out of place here,” she hurriedly added, “He told me his name was ‘Puman.'”

“Puman?” Duncan’s face showed a flicker of surprise, “The renowned ‘mad poet’?”

“Yes, I was too bewildered at the time to recognize him, but now that my memories have returned, I’m certain he was the ‘mad poet’ chronicled in our history,” Vanna confirmed with a nod, “He matched the descriptions from the literature perfectly, appearing tense yet courteous. He was inquiring about this place, seemingly in search of an exit.”

Duncan reflected aloud, “Could he possibly be another ‘shadow’ cast by this desert?”

“I don’t think so,” Vanna replied with certainty, shaking her head. “He took physical form before me. He told me he had once again fallen into a dream and explained that, in the real world, he was confined to a basement, watched over by ‘robed guardians’ circling his ‘prison.’ It seems… he found his way here by accident.”

“To accidentally stumble into the dream of an ancient deity at the world’s end?” Duncan raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Even for someone as legendary as the ‘mad poet,’ that’s somewhat hard to believe…”

He trailed off, lost in thought for a moment, before he connected the dots, “The details you’ve described sound remarkably like the containment facilities used by the church for natural-born psychics, as told by the Frost Queen, Ray Nora.”

“The Frost Queen… of course! That makes sense,” Vanna quickly realized, piecing together another fragment of the puzzle, “Puman even mentioned the Frost Queen, though he didn’t use her name explicitly. He must’ve been referring to her – someone who emerged years after his time, also trapped in a ‘cage’…”

Duncan listened intently to Vanna’s recounting, his mind racing with theories about the enigmatic “mad poet.” However, their speculation was cut short by a sudden, chilling gust of wind that swept through, reminding them of their present situation and priorities.

“We’ll delve into the ‘mad poet’s’ tale once we’re back. Morris and Lucretia are the experts in that field, not us; they’re the scholars,” Duncan stated with a sense of urgency. “Right now, our main goal is to locate Ta Ruijin and figure out how to get you out of this place safely.”

No sooner had Duncan finished speaking than a sound carried by the cold wind caught their attention – a distant, rhythmic tapping, like metal striking stone.

“Ding…ding ding…”

“That’s the sound!” Vanna recognized it instantly, turning to Duncan, “I’ve been hearing this sound all along. Whenever it echoes, something in the desert shifts; a new ruin emerges, or I hear those elusive voices…”

She paused, her thought interrupted.

The ding ding sound persisted, and then, Vanna noticed a change.

This time, the sound didn’t seem to emanate from everywhere; she could pinpoint its source.

After a moment of quick assessment and surprise, both she and Duncan pointed towards the heart of the city, exclaiming in unison, “…It’s coming from that direction!”

Though distant, the source of the sound was unmistakably clear now.

Without any further hesitation, they started towards the sound.

And that guiding noise did not fade; instead, the rhythmic ding ding ding continued to beckon them deeper into the city’s heart, growing ever more distinct as they progressed.

As they journeyed forward, Vanna’s mind circled back to the enigmatic advice given by the “mad poet” just before he vanished:

“The city stretches on endlessly, surrounded by the desert, and beyond the desert, the city resumes… Venturing outward, you’ll never escape this place.

To leave, you must not go outward but inward.

The ‘infinity’ of history unfolds in an unintuitive ‘one-way infinity’!

To find an exit or to seek the ancient deity overseeing history, the journey must be inward!”

Grasping the depth of his words, Vanna eagerly shared her epiphany with Duncan. Upon hearing her, Duncan simply nodded with a grave understanding and gestured around them.

“The city is fading away.”

Vanna, taken aback, surveyed her surroundings.

Indeed, the city was dissolving into the wind.

The decayed columns crumbled before their eyes, while streams of yellow sand cascaded from the lofty walls and towers. What began as a gradual disintegration swiftly accelerated into an expansive dispersal—the sand flowing like waterfalls from every elevated structure in the city, engulfing the dilapidated walls in dust. In mere moments, they, too, were swallowed by the desert.

Within a few short breaths, the entire city had vanished from view as though its presence had been nothing more than a mirage.

All that remained was the boundless expanse of sand.

And the sound, now almost tantalizingly close – Ding…ding ding…

Lifting her gaze, Vanna spotted a lone fire under the night sky. It reminded her of a similar beacon she had encountered in another dream amidst another desert sea long ago.

Beside this fragile flame, threatened by the cold wind yet resilient, sat a gigantic figure she recognized from another dream. In that memory, she had traveled alongside this ancient, towering presence. Now, he was there, his head bowed, tirelessly working with a chisel and stone in hand, etching into the sand beneath…

Ding…ding ding…