Deep Sea Embers
chapter-546

In the dimly lit laboratory, Lucretia fixed her intense gaze on the mechanical puppet sprawled out on the lab table. Directly across from her, Alice, with her face contorted by anxiety and discomfort, tried to avoid making eye contact. Meanwhile, standing next to Alice, Duncan remained as unreadable as ever, his face betraying no emotion, consistent with his usual stoic and unflappable character.

Minutes seemed like hours in the thick silence that enveloped the room until Lucretia’s voice sliced through the tension. “Let me get this straight,” she began, disbelief clear in her tone, “You’re suggesting that Luni took her own head off?”

Trying to maintain his composed exterior, Duncan responded, “The circumstances were… unexpected. Believe me, I was taken aback as well.”

Lucretia’s eyes briefly darted towards Duncan. It was hard to discern, but she thought she might’ve caught a fleeting sign of embarrassment on the face of her father, who was usually so stern and somber.

“I… I apologize,” Alice mumbled, breaking her silence. She bowed her head slightly, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of Duncan’s shirt. It was evident she understood the gravity of the situation she had unintentionally created. “When I realized Luni was a puppet, I mistakenly believed all puppets functioned the same. She… she wasn’t built with a removable head, was she?”

Lucretia shifted her gaze to Alice, the notorious “Anomaly 099”, a being once feared and treated with utmost caution by many. “It’s evident Luni assumed she was no different from you,” she commented coolly, “But I never intended for her to have such a… peculiarity.”

Suddenly, Luni, who lay headless on the table, stirred. Her detached head blinked and managed to speak, though her voice sounded a touch distorted, “Mistress, would you mind reattaching my head? I deeply regret the inconvenience…”

Lucretia sighed without changing her facial expression and picked up some tools from the table. As she started to fiddle with Luni’s neck, she inquired, “What made you blindly mimic Alice?”

Looking around despite her detached state, Luni’s head said, her voice accompanied by a soft crackling, “Luni views Alice as a newfound companion. One that the old master introduced.”

Lucretia stopped momentarily, processing Luni’s words but resumed her work without further commentary.

Fidgeting, Alice cast a nervous look at Luni’s separated head, “Will we continue to be friends?”

Luni’s head blinked in acknowledgment, “Of course. Once my mistress completes my repairs.”

A hint of joy flashed across Alice’s face, but then she had a realization, “You don’t have a stutter when your head is apart!”

Luni explained, her voice clinical and detached, “That’s accurate. My head is self-sufficient. My creator has equipped me with a comprehensive vocal mechanism inside my head, so my cognitive functions remain unhindered without my body. Unlike you, if something were to happen to my neck, I can’t heal myself.”

Alice took a moment, attempting to understand the depth of Luni’s words. After a brief pause, she nodded and commented, “That’s… truly remarkable.”

Duncan’s eyes widened as he observed the unusual happenings before him, a heady blend of astonishment and incredulity swirling within. The scene, eerie in its own right, seemed to mock the very essence of reality, challenging every preconceived notion of strangeness he held.

In Duncan’s perspective, the oddity didn’t simply lie in the existence of a cursed puppet capable of detaching its own head. Even more bewildering was the fact that somewhere amidst the vastness of the world, they had stumbled upon yet another peculiar puppet, creating an opportunity for such an uncanny friendship. And to think, he hadn’t even acquainted Alice with the assortment of unusual “crew members” aboard the “Bright Star”. Imagining this innocent creature wandering freely, he shuddered to think of the potential mayhem she could unleash.

As Lucretia engrossed herself in mending Luni’s mechanical intricacies, a sudden pang reverberated through her chest. Her eyes darted around, attempting to discern the source of this unexpected sensation. However, another pressing issue soon ensnared her focus.

“On the subject of the ‘eyeball’ documented by Master Taran El,” she began, addressing Duncan, her tone laden with a gravity befitting her alias, the “Sea Witch”. “We’re in agreement that revealing this to the masses is out of the question. But where do we stand with the Four Divine Churches?”

“I plan to notify them,” Duncan answered, momentarily shelving his previous bemusement to assume a grave demeanor. “Yet, I’m wrestling with the idea of how best to broach the topic and whether we need to liaise directly with their upper echelons. The crux of the matter isn’t just that ‘Vision 001’s core takes the form of an eye ensnared within an artificial orb.’ The enigma of Vision 001 has always confounded mortal kind, and its actual form could very well defy all sensibilities. What’s crucial is the distinct appearance of that eyeball.”

Pondering his words, Lucretia paused her meticulous work, a deep crease forming between her brows. “By its appearance, are you suggesting it bears a resemblance to the… ‘Creeping Sun Wheel’?”

“The essence of the Creeping Sun Wheel embodies an ancient deity, its majestic form embraced and seared by a radiant solar halo. Its many tendril-like extensions are overshadowed by the prominence of a single, massive eyeball,” Duncan elucidated, the weight of a haunting memory evident in his voice. “I remember that eye all too well — it felt as though our souls connected, if only for a fleeting moment.”

Lucretia shifted uncomfortably at her father’s recollection. She hesitated, then cautiously ventured, “Discussing the legends of ancient deities while sailing the deep blue…”

“Concern yourself not,” Duncan interrupted with a dismissive gesture, “Even if its infamous ‘gaze’ is attracted to our whereabouts, it would be solely fixated on me. After all, I’ve long harbored the desire to meet it once again.”

For a moment, Lucretia found herself speechless. Throughout her extensive travels across the boundless oceans, she had witnessed innumerable marvels, rubbed shoulders with eccentric personalities, and been privy to a plethora of taboo topics and occurrences. Yet, it was rare for such forbidden subjects to be broached with such unabashed audacity.

The weight of the past and the palpable shift in their relationship left her feeling as though she was navigating unfamiliar terrain. There was a realization that adjusting to her father’s new state would require patience and understanding; it wasn’t just about reacquainting herself with him but essentially learning how to engage with him anew.

Despite the fleeting glimpse of confusion in Lucretia’s eyes, Duncan took a deep breath, pausing momentarily to gather his thoughts. He then inquired, “Lucretia, do you remember the entity referred to as the ‘intruder’ in Taran El’s dreams? They called it the projection of the Sun Offspring.”

Acknowledging him with a nod, Lucretia replied, “Indeed. You mentioned its eerie resemblance to a more diminutive form of the ‘Creeping Sun Wheel.’ You also highlighted an exchange between yourself and this so-called ‘Sun Offspring,’ emphasizing how its subordinates scoured the dream, seemingly in search of an object or information.”

Taking a thoughtful moment, Duncan responded with an affirming nod, “Exactly. At the heart of Vision 001 lies an ‘eyeball,’ eerily mirroring the very nucleus of the ‘Creeping Sun Wheel.’ Mere hours post the quelling of Vision 001, the Sun Offspring and its underlings trespassed into the ‘Dream of the Nameless One’ via Taran El’s subconscious realm. Their motives and actions suggest a clear linkage between the two occurrences.”

“To delve deeper into the annals of history,” Duncan continued, “For ages, adherents of the Black Sun have vehemently proclaimed their deity as the sole ‘True Solar God,’ condemning our sun as a mere pretender—a ‘False Sun.’ The masses mostly dismissed these assertions as mere fabrications—ramblings of a sect seemingly manipulated by the hypnotic pull of the Black Sun. Yet, during the sun’s recent eclipse, Taran El unearthed an unsettling truth: encapsulated within Vision 001 lay an eyeball, uncannily echoing the foundational structure of the ‘Creeping Sun Wheel.’”

“Furthermore, regarding the invader known as the Annihilator who breached the ‘Dream of the Nameless One’— from the intelligence I’ve amassed, the core purpose of the Annihilation Cult diverges markedly from the Suntist’s objectives. Their quest is anchored in the pursuit of the ‘Original Blueprint,’ crafted prior to creation by the enigmatic Nether Lord. Citing the ‘Book of Blasphemy,’ it’s suggested that this ‘Mysterious Nether Lord’ once provided guidance to the Cretean Clan, potentially playing a pivotal role in the creation of Vision 001. Therefore, one could argue that the contemporary Vision 001, or the ‘False Sun’ as deemed by the Suntists, stands as a testament to the Nether Lord’s genius—a shard of the primordial design.”

“This latter insight might shed light on the observed alliance between the Annihilation Sect and the Sun Cult. Though their goals converge, underlying tensions simmer beneath the surface.”

As Duncan meticulously unwound his chain of thought, he searched Lucretia’s eyes for validation and feedback. “Considering this intricate web of information, where do you stand?”

The weight of Duncan’s revelations temporarily paralyzed Lucretia. Her demeanor transitioned from pensive to apprehensive. Taking a moment to process, she murmured, “Even a devout Black Sun worshipper, upon hearing this, might deem our conversation a tad too radical.”

Duncan exhaled with a combination of bemusement and exasperation. “It’s funny; I encountered such sentiments just recently. Sometimes I wonder: if we were to peel back all the layers of our world’s history, would we find truths even more bizarre? If so, compared to the grand tapestry of our reality, the most avant-garde cult beliefs might seem positively mainstream.”

Caught up in the whirlwind of this profound conversation, Lucretia found herself momentarily adrift in contemplation. Her gaze slowly descended towards the experiment table, meeting the eyes of Luni’s detached head.

Seeming to sense the need for a break in the intensity, Luni finally said, “Mistress… shall we proceed? Maybe you should step aside for a moment and recharge. We could always summon Rabbi to lend a hand…”

Gathering herself, Lucretia inhaled deeply, setting aside her avalanche of thoughts. As she reached for her instruments, she quipped, “Rely on Rabbi? I’d rather not. He might think of stashing your head somewhere within him, thinking he’s found a ‘cotton’ treat. Stay put; your head’s reattachment won’t be long.”

Luni simply responded with a meek, “Oh.”

…

Simultaneously, in the grand office of Wind Harbor’s chief official, Governor Sara Mel gingerly unfolded a freshly delivered missive. As her eyes moved line by line, the ancient elf’s countenance gradually shifted to one of deep concern.

The parchment bore the symbols of the Four Divine Churches. Remarkably, it wasn’t the proclamation of just one religious faction but showcased the emblems of all four pontiffs, sanctified by the blessings of their respective deities, and was addressed to every maritime city-state.

Its crux suggested the collaborative construction of an advanced alert mechanism, a joint endeavor involving the city-states, the church, and the Explorer’s Association. The primary objective was the vigilant surveillance of any anomalous happenings above and beneath the sea’s expanse. This was a proactive measure to stave off any repetitions of the harrowing ‘Frost Crisis’ and stay vigilant against the potential stirrings of primordial deities.

Furthermore, the church had resolved to redeploy a fraction of its patrolling armada from border regions to the central zones of civilization, ensuring prompt responses to any unforeseen crises.

While these agenda points did raise certain apprehensions, they were still within the purview of typical protocols for the leaders of city-states.

Yet, what truly unsettled Governor Sara Mel was a seemingly innocuous yet pivotal footnote appended to the document’s conclusion:

“Each city-state is mandated to be on the alert for any signals emanating from the legenary ‘Vanished’ or its accompanying fleet. Should the ‘Vanished’ be identified as operating in proximity to city-state waters, aggressive engagement must be avoided. Based on the prevailing circumstances, assistance may be extended as required.”