Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 710: Oddity Is The Norm Here

Beneath the gaze of all present, the vessel, shrouded in spectral flames resembling a fiery beacon, surged directly toward the jagged cliffs. Yet, contrary to expectations, there was no explosion or loud crash.

As it neared the cliffs, the ship appeared to dissolve. The once-solid deck, hull, and keel instantaneously turned to liquid, akin to mud, flowing down and silently splattering against the rocky face. It was less of a crash and more of a glob of mud splashing against the cliffside. Then, the ship seemed to be absorbed by the island, vanishing entirely into the clustered, sharp stone formations.

The spirit flames that had been fiercely alight on the ship moments before now formed a vast, eerie ring of fire along the island’s cliff, with ghostly green flames blooming like ripples along the shore. After a short pause, these flames spilled into the sea, setting the foggy surface ablaze and gradually spreading before the allied fleet.

The event was abrupt, and the church fleet seemed not yet to grasp what had transpired. Onboard the Vanished, Nina exclaimed with wide eyes, “Did that ship just ‘self-destruct’?!”

Lucretia, in disbelief, questioned, “Papa, did that ship just defy your command?”

Duncan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he frowned deeply, confirming in his mind the faint “sense” that the ship had transmitted to him just before its collision. After a while, he spoke thoughtfully, “No… it wasn’t out of control.”

“Not out of control?” Lucretia was confused, “Then why did it suddenly crash into the cliff?”

Duncan explained slowly, “I commanded it to ‘return home’—and so it did. I had always assumed a ship’s ‘home’ was the port where it usually docks. But for that ship… its ‘home’ must be the island itself.”

While Lucretia pondered Duncan’s words, Vanna, Morris, and others who had witnessed the Frost incident began to understand. Morris frowned suddenly, “Do you mean, that ship was…”

With a grave expression, Duncan clarified, “That ship was constructed using the ‘material’ from the island, at least in part.”

The loss of the “guide ship” was unexpected, but it didn’t significantly impact the allied fleet—they had already pinpointed the Holy Island’s location, and the route was recorded on the sea chart. Now, with the ethereal green spirit flames still quietly burning on the sea and helping to dissipate the fog, the Bright Star soon discovered the entrance to the “fjord” that Ai had spotted from above.

Despite some unexpected events, the expedition to investigate the “Holy Island” by the deep sea and the Death Church’s clerics was set to continue as planned.

From the Tide and the Resolved, two modest-sized landing boats were swiftly dispatched and neared the Vanished. Each boat was laden with eleven marines and one cleric, all poised and awaiting Duncan’s strategic deployment.

“Vanna, Morris, Alice, you’re with me,” Duncan declared, his eyes scanning his crew on the deck, swiftly pinpointing the most suited members for the task. His attention then shifted to Shirley, who seemed to be making herself as inconspicuous as possible, “Shirley, you’re coming too.”

“I’m not adept at exploration, nor do I have the old man’s experience…”

“I understand, but we require Dog’s capabilities,” Duncan interjected Shirley’s protest without missing a beat, “Dog’s a shadow demon, exceptional in detection and tracking. His skills will prove invaluable on this ‘Holy Island’.”

Shirley’s face took on a complex look as she silently acknowledged her primary role as Dog’s partner.

However, Duncan remained indifferent to the subtle shift in Shirley’s demeanor. Having finalized his ashore team, he gestured to the others, “The rest of you, stay onboard. This place is unsettling. Report immediately if anything unusual happens on the ship or the surrounding waters.”

“Aren’t you including me in the team?” Lucretia stepped forward, unable to conceal her eagerness, “I’m well-versed in frontier territories, and I’ve explored numerous mysterious islands…”

“I do need your expertise, but not at this moment,” Duncan firmly responded, evidently with a specific strategy in mind, “Return to the Bright Star and keep an eye on that ‘Saint.’ Your skills will be crucial later. I’ll head to the island first to scout. Once I locate an appropriate ‘site,’ I’ll send Ai to fetch you.”

After a brief contemplation, Lucretia nodded in understanding: “Understood.”

With a slight nod, Duncan then proceeded to lead the chosen group towards the deck’s edge.

Suddenly, a loud clattering noise erupted nearby.

Duncan’s gaze swiftly turned towards the source of the commotion, spotting a small boat covered with a tarp, vigorously jostling in its fixtures on the mid-deck—this was the landing craft aboard the Vanished.

Yet, in everyone’s recollection, this small boat’s primary function seemed to be as a makeshift clothesline for Alice’s laundry or as a hideaway for Shirley when she sought to evade her homework.

For a brief few seconds, Duncan silently observed the small boat’s intense convulsions before decisively stating: “Ai will ferry us to the island.”

The boat momentarily stilled, then resumed its frenzied shaking with increased fervor, its bow thumping against the wooden frame to which it was secured.

Duncan remained wordlessly staring at the agitated vessel.

“Captain,” Alice approached Duncan with a sense of urgency and gently pulled on his sleeve. She leaned in closer, her voice a hushed whisper meant only for his ears, “Perhaps we should bring it along… I believe it’s on the verge of tears…”

Duncan turned to gaze at Alice, his face etched with a mixture of confusion and disbelief before his eyes drifted towards the small landing craft resting on the deck. To his amazement, the craft seemed to exude an aura of melancholy. He couldn’t help but find the situation bizarrely humorous, but after a moment of contemplative silence, he exhaled a weary sigh of acceptance: “Very well, we shall journey to the shore aboard the rowboat…”

No sooner had he uttered these words than the small boat on the deck suddenly sprung to life. It wriggled free from the bindings of ropes and hooks that once held it captive while the crane adjacent to the deck groaned to life. It swung into action, delicately lifting the small boat from its wooden cradle and expertly positioning it into the launching groove on the mid-deck.

The entire sequence of movements was executed with fluid grace, almost as if the machinery was keenly aware of the captain’s reluctant decision and feared he might retract his consent.

Duncan could only look on in silent bewilderment.

Nevertheless, as things unfolded, the landing craft, once a part of the Vanished, now joined two other small boats that had disengaged from the combined fleet. Together, they edged along the jagged cliffs of “Holy Island,” seeking a concealed passageway that would lead them into the heart of the island.

Upon entering the “fjord,” which bore an uncanny resemblance to the gaping maw of a colossal beast, they were greeted by a haunting spectacle. Towering, ominous stone pillars rose on either side, flanking the calm, dark blue expanse of water. A persistent mist shrouded the area, adding a layer of mystery and foreboding.

The trio of small boats proceeded with caution through the foggy veil. In the midst of the haze, the coastline began to materialize, its features obscured and ghostly. The faint outlines of port structures could be discerned, and sporadic lights pierced the fog, glowing dimly like a series of distant, watchful eyes suspended in the ether.

The boat ferrying Duncan and his companions was equipped with an automatic navigation system, negating the need for manual steering. In contrast, the landing crafts released from the Tide and the Resolved were propelled by compact steam cores. The rhythmic hum of the steam cores punctuated the silence of the fjord, and the gentle lapping of water against the hulls, coupled with the echoes bouncing off the cliff walls, created a symphony of soft, indistinct echoes.

Suddenly, Vanna’s expression shifted to one of concern.

She turned towards the captain and noticed that he, too, seemed troubled, his gaze fixed intently into the fog. The two steam-powered boats trailing them from the Tide and the Resolved seemed to have also perceived something amiss as they began to decelerate.

The once consistent echo within the fjord now diminished significantly.

Vanna cocked her head slightly, straining her ears in an attempt to isolate the sounds. She spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “Do you hear that?”

Shirley, previously oblivious to any unusual occurrences, sensed the shift in the atmosphere. She anxiously twisted around, her voice laced with apprehension, “Hear… What did you detect?”

In that moment, a faint, sinister sound cut through the stillness — the unmistakable metallic groan of chains moving in the shadows. Ever vigilant, Dog slowly lifted his head and announced with a grave tone, “There’s the sound of a fourth boat… hidden within the fog, trailing us.”

Shirley’s expression shifted subtly as she dropped her voice to a whisper, “What in the world is that?”

Duncan remained silent, but his raised hand was a clear signal to press on.

The mechanical hum of the propellers filled the air once again, blending with the splashing of water against the hulls. This time, even Shirley couldn’t ignore the unsettling presence of the “fourth boat.” The sounds were crisper and closer — a low rumble akin to a steam engine but more profound, accompanied by the unmistakable noise of a bow cutting through the water.

Her eyes widened as she frantically scanned the fog for the source. Yet, all she found was a disorienting cacophony of sounds echoing off the fjord walls, the buzzing and rumbling making it impossible to pinpoint the direction.

But one thing was certain — a fourth boat was cloaked in the fog, lurking perilously close, sometimes feeling as though it was merely an arm’s length away.

Morris, who had been quiet, suddenly focused his gaze on the mist-covered water. He drew a peculiar, lens-like device from his coat and peered through it towards the source of the disturbance.

Through the lens, a shadowy figure loomed, resembling an indistinct and ghostly boat.

But in an instant, the phantom shape was enveloped in a ghastly green glow — ethereal flames that flickered and danced around it before vanishing as swiftly as they had appeared.

Simultaneously, the ominous sound of the fourth boat ceased.

Alice, intrigued by the brief flare of ghostly light, turned to Duncan with a questioning look. “Captain, what was that?”

“I’m not certain,” Duncan replied, his face a mask of contemplation. “Perhaps something in the fog is trying to mimic us, or it might be a trick of the light, an illusion wrought by this strange place… Regardless, it’s not a significant concern. After all, encountering the bizarre is just another day for us in the borders.”

Alice nodded, her expression one of understanding. She then turned her gaze back to the waters ahead.

“Ah, we’ve arrived.”

As her voice faded, the hazy silhouette of the port emerged from the mist, gradually solidifying into a clear view.

The three small boats had finally reached the shore.