Deep Sea Embers-Chapter 746: Ships Passing in the Night

As they watched a meteor trail across the sky, appearing to move in reverse before it finally faded into the expansive night sky, only Tyrian, Aiden, and Agatha remained standing on the broad expanse of the coastline.

Close to them on the sand, an ancient artifact known as the “Lost Star” lay in quiet repose. Its surface was decorated with slowly shifting patterns that resembled clouds, and it emitted a soft, sorrowful sound, akin to a gentle sigh. The ocean stretched out before them, calm under the soft golden light of the setting sun, its surface smooth and reflective like a vast, undulating mirror, the waves rolling in more gently than usual.

In the fading light of dusk, it was Tyrian who broke the silence that had settled among them. He turned to Agatha, who was known as the gatekeeper, and posed a deep and thought-provoking question: “Do you think, in the event the sun were to completely disintegrate, that the Church would still wield enough influence to maintain order across the city-states?”

Agatha, taken aback by such a profound question, found herself momentarily lost for words. This was a stark departure from the person she was just a year prior, who would not have hesitated to answer confidently. The disaster that was Mirror Frost had deeply shaken her once steadfast faith, planting seeds of doubt where there had been none.

After a short pause, she responded with a slight nod, a gesture of her still-present belief: “I have faith that my brothers and sisters in the Church will do everything within their power… They will try their utmost.” freeweɓnøvel.com

Tyrian let out a thoughtful sigh, a smile touching his lips as he observed, “Your answer, while not as unwavering as one might expect from someone of your faith, brings a strange sense of comfort in these uncertain times. Regardless, we will all do our best, and I trust that the other city-states will act in kind.”

Agatha offered a silent nod in agreement, then turned and walked away, her figure merging with a swirling, pale mist and disappearing into it.

Aiden had remained quiet during this exchange, but once Agatha had departed, he voiced his own concerns: “…What should we do now?”

“First,” Tyrian started, laying out his plan, “we need to make sure the town hall takes all necessary precautions before nightfall. It’s crucial that every citizen in our city-state is ready for the extended period of darkness that awaits us. Second, I’ll order our naval fleet to be on high alert; every ship must be in top condition, prepared for whatever the long night may bring. And third…”

He paused, looking down at the bag he was carrying, before adding, “Lastly, we need to remind everyone to look after their basic needs—eat if they’re hungry, sleep if they’re tired, and keep living well. Ten thousand years ago, after the dark ages that ensued following the collapse of the ancient kingdom, our city-states’ founders carved a new beginning out of the ruins. We, too, shall overcome this adversity… The world has not ended just yet.”

“Understood, Captain!”

As the day began to wane, the sky was briefly illuminated by flames that traced a brilliant path among the clouds before descending toward a hill near the cemetery. There, the spirit flame gradually extinguished, revealing Duncan who stepped out from the dissipating flames.

Alice had already made her way back to the Vanished, leaving Duncan to navigate his return to the cemetery by himself. He embarked on this solitary journey with measured steps, tracing a path that had become all too familiar. As he walked, his shadow stretched out long and thin across the ancient stone path, its form distorted by the fading light of dusk, creating an almost eerie tableau in the dimming twilight.

The city around him was enveloped in a blanket of silence, a stark indicator that most of its inhabitants had retreated to their homes for the evening. The streets, typically bustling with activity, now lay almost empty, save for the occasional steam walkers that meandered through the cityscape. Municipal workers were seen here and there, diligently checking the integrity of street lamps and gas pipelines, while guards dressed in dark attire were preoccupied with ensuring the safety and readiness of the “Nightfall Shelters,” their movements a blend of purpose and urgency.

Redirecting his attention from the distant activities, Duncan continued his ascent with a slow, deliberate pace.

Upon reaching the cemetery’s entrance, he was met with a sight both unexpected and familiar. A young girl, around thirteen or fourteen years old, stood just outside the gates. She was bundled up against the cold in thick, light grey winter attire, complete with a fluffy woolen hat and gloves, making her resemble a cozy, woolen sphere. She paced back and forth at the gate, occasionally stamping her feet against the cold ground, her gaze frequently shifting towards the slope leading up to their current location.

This was Annie, evidently having waited there for some time in anticipation of Duncan’s arrival.

Duncan’s expression turned into a slight frown as he hastened his steps towards the cemetery gate. Annie, upon noticing him, lit up with joy and quickly made her way down the slope to greet him.

“Guardian uncle!” she exclaimed, her voice brimming with happiness as she halted at the edge of the cemetery gate. “I was just passing by and noticed the guard’s cottage was empty. The guards in black told me you had ventured out…”

“The town is on the brink of curfew, and the town hall has issued orders for all residents to return to their homes. Why are you still out here?” Duncan inquired, his tone deep and imposing, the sternness in his voice magnified by his bandaged visage, “The streets are no longer safe at this hour.”

“I was just about to head back home,” Annie responded promptly, undeterred by Duncan’s formidable appearance and somber tone. She then reached into her clothing, retrieving a small, neatly wrapped package, and handed it to Duncan. “This is herbal tea for you… Please take it. After this, I might not be able to visit for quite a while.”

Duncan accepted the package from Annie, momentarily caught off guard by the gesture. He paused, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass before his voice softened, “Are you aware of the impending changes?”

“The sun… it’s behaving unusually, isn’t it?” Annie responded, her gaze lifting to meet Duncan’s dark, recessed eyes. “The sunset seems to linger far longer than usual, and it hasn’t fully set yet… I’ve heard from a nun that if the sun sets this time, it might not rise again for a very long time… My mother mentioned that the temperatures could continue to fall, or perhaps they’ll stabilize midway. The most concerning issue would be the impact on the farms…”

Annie halted mid-sentence, the complexity of the topic seemingly overwhelming her young mind, making it challenging for her to grasp and articulate the situation fully.

After a brief pause, Duncan leaned in slightly, his voice laced with concern, “Afraid?”

Initially, Annie shook her head, indicating no fear, but after a moment’s contemplation, she hesitated and then, somewhat reluctantly, nodded her agreement.

Her young mind struggled to grasp the current events, let alone predict the future outcomes. For Annie, the concept of mud monsters terrorizing the city was far easier to understand than the abstract disaster of a never-setting sun. This vision was too complex and intangible for a thirteen-year-old to fully comprehend.

Yet, she could sense the same aura of tension and anxiety that permeated the air during the first “Mirror Disaster” she had lived through. The adults’ reactions were a telltale sign that the situation was grave.

Curious and slightly anxious, Annie ventured a question, “If the sun never rises again, will we have to carry lanterns around and have runes tattooed on our eyelids to see in the dark, like those ascetics who live in darkness?”

Duncan found himself at a loss for words, unsure how to address such a complex question from a child. After a thoughtful pause, he offered a reassuring response, “The sun will rise again. And if it doesn’t, we’ll find something else to illuminate the sky.”

Annie’s initial confusion gave way to a sudden realization, and her eyes widened with surprise, “Is it you? Are you going to light up the sky?”

“…Go home,” Duncan replied with a gentle smile hidden beneath the layers of his bandages. Only a slight uplift at the corners of his eyes indicated his amusement. He brushed some dust off Annie’s clothes—a reminder of their time spent in the graveyard—and gazed towards the dim twilight settling over the rooftops in the distance, “It’s getting darker. And thank you for the herbal tea.”

“Mmm!”

The darkness seemed to be encroaching slowly but surely.

Outside the antique shop, the last remnants of daylight were fading, yet the sky remained stubbornly lit, resisting complete darkness.

After watching Annie depart down the northern slope of the graveyard, Duncan’s attention drifted through the old shop’s window, observing the evening ambiance of Pland’s streets.

The once-busy streets were now eerily quiet, the lively chatter of children replaced by silence as adults escorted them home. The lower city, usually bustling and vibrant, now appeared desolate and abandoned, resembling a ghost town more than a lively urban center.

Breaking the silence, a steamwalker lumbered past the window. The rhythmic clacking of its steam engine and the hiss of steam escaping its exhaust port punctuated the quiet. Banners bearing scriptures fluttered in the wind on either side of its armored body. Atop the walker, two guards dressed in the uniforms of the Storm Church announced the cathedral’s latest “Nightfall Notice”—a decree that included a new curfew and adjustments to the city’s nocturnal operations, signaling the deepening of the night’s embrace.

Even amidst the fragile peace that followed the ominous Black Sun event, the city-state of Pland remained cloaked in an aura of palpable tension.

Uncertainty loomed over the city like a specter, with no one able to predict whether the so-called “safe nightfall” would maintain its safety after the night stretched into unending darkness. Questions haunted the minds of the citizens: What unknown horrors might emerge from the dark depths of the sea, emboldened by the absence of sunlight, to creep up the shores and invade the city under the veil of perpetual night?

Such apprehension wasn’t limited to Pland alone. One couldn’t help but wonder about the state of other city-states scattered across the Boundless Sea, facing the same unnerving scenario.

As the light of the sunset dimmed further, Duncan’s thoughts wandered into these bleak reflections. He then set aside the newspaper he had been reading, intending to rise and switch on the electric lamp near the staircase for better illumination.

It was at this moment that an unexpected presence caught the corner of his eye.

Appearing suddenly at the corner of a shelf on the ground floor of the antique shop was a figure, emerging as if out of nowhere—a weary traveler, it seemed, clad in a white robe so tattered it was beyond recognition. The figure’s body was slightly bent forward, moving step by step towards the counter as if burdened by the weight of an immeasurable journey.

Duncan stood up slowly, his gaze fixed on the approaching figure.

Yet, this figure appeared oblivious to Duncan’s presence, as if existing in a parallel realm. With eyes fixed on a point beyond the visible, he moved through the shelves like a specter, his pace slow and ghostly.

During this eerie procession, Duncan’s view of the traveler’s face became clearer—he saw an aged visage marked by deep wrinkles and skin nearly desiccated by time as if caught in a standstill. Then, in an instant, the face transformed, rejuvenating into the youthful countenance of a man at the outset of his travels, even his stooped posture straightening.

Read 𝓁atest chapters at fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm Only.

But as quickly as he regained youth, he reverted to an elderly state, his figure moving past the counter, nearing Duncan.

Suddenly, the traveler halted.

It was as if he finally perceived Duncan—or perhaps saw merely a shadow of a figure. He stopped abruptly, his eyes wide, locked in a direct gaze with Duncan.

Duncan struggled to interpret any specific emotion on the traveler’s trembling face—was it shock? Fear? Despair? Or a glimmer of hope?

It was as though the entire spectrum of human emotions was condensed into that fleeting exchange of looks—the dusty traveler gazed at him with such intensity, then slowly, he began to fade away, disappearing as mysteriously as he had appeared.