Deep Sea Embers
chapter-578

Duncan was well aware that the goat head had no reason to lie to him. To put it another way, if the goat head had any intention of deceiving him, it certainly would not resort to such subpar acting skills to do so.

Seated behind a desk covered in navigational instruments, Duncan leaned his arms on the table’s surface and looked directly into the goat head’s eyes. These eyes had a quality that reminded him of obsidian stone—dark, yet as if they were hiding something. He felt as if he could unravel hidden truths by delving deep into them.

“So, a very long time ago, there were people who meant a great deal to you. You made a conscious effort to remember them, fully aware that your memory would degrade over time. The idea of preserving their memory was a compelling desire for you. Yet, despite this powerful intent, all you managed to hold onto was that one cryptic sentence,” Duncan articulated.

The goat head seemed uncertain, its voice laced with a note of confusion. “Perhaps… that might be the case. I don’t experience regret, just occasional confusion…”

It trailed off momentarily before looking up at Duncan. “Captain, could you please clarify what is happening? How am I involved in all of this?”

Duncan reclined in his chair, letting his fingers gently tap the desktop. As he did so, ethereal flames emanated from his fingertips, forming ripple patterns that expanded across the table with each touch.

“The Dream of the Nameless One has extended its reach,” Duncan began to explain. “Last night, its influence crossed the boundary into our reality. I came into contact with a ‘vine’ that stretched from that dream world into this one. If I’m not mistaken, that vine is known in ancient elven lore as Atlantis.”

As he spoke, there was a sudden, jarring snap from the goat head’s neck, causing its head to freeze in place on its stand.

Duncan looked at it casually, remarking, “I believe you snapped your neck a bit prematurely.”

The goat head stammered, “What… what do you mean by that?”

Duncan continued, unfazed by the goat head’s reaction, “After making contact with Atlantis, I found myself in a dimension that was neither a dream nor our reality. Another version of our ship, the ‘Vanished,’ was sailing through that realm. And interestingly, that ship had another version of you aboard.”

Once again, there was a snapping noise as the goat head’s neck seemed to lock up.

Ignoring these bizarre occurrences, Duncan provided a detailed account of his experiences from the night before. He talked about the eerie atmosphere on the spectral version of their ship, the transformations that took place at the ‘Door of the Lost,’ and the unusual actions exhibited by the alternate version of the goat head in that dimension.

Throughout his storytelling, Duncan paid close attention to the goat head’s reactions. Despite its usually stoic, wooden facial features, the entity appeared utterly shocked. There was no sign of subterfuge—only genuine astonishment.

“So, you seem quite taken aback,” Duncan concluded, looking across the table at his enigmatic first mate. “Now you see why I consider this issue to be of the utmost importance, don’t you?”

“I… Yes, I now understand why you’re so concerned,” the goat head finally said after hesitating for a moment. “However, I’m also in the dark here… My memory is incomplete.”

Duncan sighed. “I should’ve shared this with you earlier. In subspace, I came across another version of the Vanished. It was a wreck, a grim reflection of what our ship could become after years of decay and disintegration. Oddly enough, you were conspicuously absent from that ship,” he paused to let the words sink in. “And now, I’ve encountered yet another Vanished, this one sailing through an impenetrable darkness and fog with another version of you aboard. What’s next? Will there be a fourth, a fifth? Do you have any clue what state our actual ship is in right now?”

The goat head took a lengthy pause this time as if carefully weighing its words or perhaps seeking a diplomatic way to discuss this delicate subject. Finally, it spoke, “I can’t predict if you’ll encounter a fourth or a fifth Vanished, nor can I fathom how many unusual ‘states’ our ship might manifest. But I can offer you this perspective: our ship wasn’t always like this.”

Duncan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “By ‘this,’ I assume you’re not talking about transformations induced by entering subspace?”

The goat head slowly shook its head. “No, the changes I’m referring to are far more fundamental and absolute. From my disjointed and chaotic recollections, I can tell you that the ship has assumed a multitude of forms—sometimes appearing as a solid block of iron, at other times like a mass of contracting flesh, or even as dark, cold stones or abstract, terrifying shadows. In the depths of subspace, it could morph into something entirely different at any given moment. This fluctuating state has endured for…”

Suddenly, the goat head stopped speaking. Duncan felt a low creaking sound resonate through the ship’s hull, followed by a disquieting, dull echo that seemed to emanate from the very core of the vessel. The floor beneath him began to quiver, and an atmosphere of tension and disquiet pervaded the ship as though the entire structure was trembling, losing its anchor to reality.

“Let’s stop right there; I think I get the picture,” Duncan interjected softly.

The goat head nodded cautiously, and as it did, the disconcerting vibrations and tension that had engulfed the ship gradually dissipated. Stability in their reality seemed to be restored.

Duncan sat in contemplation, his brow furrowed.

For a moment there, it had seemed as though the ‘Vanished’ was about to “collapse” into a different form, spurred by the goat head’s unsettling “description.” However, under his vigilant supervision as the captain, the ship had regained its equilibrium.

Did this near-transformation reveal some fundamental “essence” of the ‘Vanished’? Or did it suggest something even more perplexing?

After a period of silent reflection, Duncan shook off his thoughts and refocused his attention on the goat head. “Regarding that ‘alternate version’ of you on the other ‘Vanished,’ what are your thoughts? Do you have any insight into what that might mean?”

“I’m sorry, Captain, but I really don’t know,” the goat head mumbled, its tone tinged with disappointment and resignation. It appeared that these were the phrases it had been uttering most frequently, closely followed by admissions of not remembering anything.

Duncan, however, didn’t seem taken aback by this lack of insight. Swiftly, he steered the conversation in another direction. “Tell me, do you ever dream?”

The question appeared to surprise the goat head for a moment. “Dream?” it said, quickly regaining composure. “No, I don’t dream. As your devoted first mate, I am responsible for keeping a constant watch over this ship.”

Duncan pondered the goat head’s response, ignoring the self-flattering undertone. “So, no dreams, huh,” he said, half to himself.

The goat head began to speak, its voice tinged with nervousness. “Captain, may I—”

“Go ahead,” Duncan encouraged.

It took a noticeable effort for the goat head to continue. “Earlier, you mentioned that on the mysterious version of the other Vanished, the entrance to the captain’s quarters was inscribed with ‘May He Linger in Dreams.’ And you also noted that the version of me in that alternate ship referred to Atlantis. Are you suggesting—”

Duncan cut it off. “Yes,” he said, nodding calmly but decisively.

For a moment, the goat head appeared at a loss for words.

“My suspicion will remain as such unless you somehow recover your memories and tell me that you do have a name—and that your name is ‘Saslokha,'” Duncan added.

A heavy silence descended upon the captain’s quarters.

After an extended pause, the goat head finally broke the silence. “Elven myths are often filled with oddities and contradictions. They can’t be completely trusted,” it muttered.

Duncan spoke with a tone of seriousness, “But the more convoluted and puzzling these ancient tales are, the more they warrant our attention—especially when they seem to connect to our current circumstances. You, for instance, have no memory of your own past, correct?”

“That’s true, but this is all getting too mystical for my taste,” the goat head grumbled, clearly uneasy. “Getting involved in epic legends of this scale is beyond me. I mean, look at me. I’m nothing more than a carved sculpture attached to this ship.”

Duncan didn’t argue. He simply shook his head and let out a sigh. He stood up and moved to the window, taking in the view of their vessel as it sailed through a blend of sunlight, mist, and the ever-changing sea.

Suddenly, a soft tapping sound caught his attention.

He spun around to find Agatha’s ghostly visage materializing on the window glass, pointing in a specific direction.

Duncan frowned slightly, then glanced back at the goat head, who was still mumbling near the edge of the navigation table. The presence of Agatha’s ghost, combined with the goat head’s evasiveness, suggested that something much larger was at play. With so many interconnected puzzles and no clear solutions, Duncan knew that he had his work cut out for him.

After briefly pondering the tangled web of mysteries that surrounded him, Duncan took a decisive step forward. “Listen,” he said, addressing the goat head, “Don’t stress too much about all of this mysticism and lore. Your primary responsibility remains as the first mate of the Vanished. Your main task is to assist me in ensuring the safety of this ship. I’ll handle the complexities and uncertainties.”

The goat head seemed momentarily stunned by this, staring up at Duncan as if taken by surprise. Gathering its composure quickly, it replied, “Of course, Captain. I understand my duty.”

Duncan gave a brief nod of approval. “Very well,” he said, moving toward a door leading deeper into his quarters. “I’ll be in my personal room for a while to rest and collect my thoughts.”

“Aye, Captain,” the goat head responded, its tone imbued with a sense of formality and deference.

Without a backward glance, Duncan casually waved his hand in a dismissive gesture as he entered his private chamber, shutting the door quietly behind him. However, rather than taking a moment to relax as he had implied, he walked over to a mirror situated in the corner of the room.

After confirming there was no activity detectable through the door, he approached the mirror and rapped his knuckles against its glass surface.

Almost immediately, the mirror seemed to come to life. Shadows and mists swirled within its reflective plane, coalescing into the figure of Agatha. Once the Gatekeeper of Frost, this shadow now existed within the mirrors spread throughout the ship. She offered Duncan a nod, acknowledging his presence.

“You wanted to communicate something to me, something you didn’t want the first mate to hear,” Duncan said, his expression turning grave. “What’s the matter?”

Agatha’s transparent form seemed to solidify a bit as she prepared to speak. “Captain, I listened to your conversation with the first mate,” she said, her tone serious. “I have something important to disclose. Last night, a peculiar incident happened aboard the Vanished. For a brief moment, the ship’s ‘shadow,’ its very essence or soul if you will, disappeared.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed, the weight of her words not lost on him. Agatha’s revelation added another layer of urgency and complexity to their situation in a world already brimming with enigmas.