Chapter 372: Lost in the Deep

As Agatha journeyed back to the cathedral, her mind was caught in a tempest of thoughts. The confirmation of the “Second Waterway” as the valid avenue for exploration had brought a slight wave of relief to her. Nevertheless, the mystery surrounding the identity of the enigmatic entity continued to disconcert her. It was now indisputable that this entity demonstrated a benevolent demeanor towards Frost. Yet, in her role as the leader and guardian of this city-state, she found herself grappling with the potential long-term implications of this relationship.

Any higher-order, transcendental being wouldn’t simply engage in an observation of the mortal realm without an underlying motive. The act of such “observation”, in its own right, constituted a noticeable intrusion. A slew of questions kept her awake at night – How long would this shadowy “visitor” persist in observing their world? What could be the long-term impact of its enduring presence on Frost? Could the existence of the people in the city-state be fundamentally altered under such influence? Was the entity aware of the consequences of its presence? Or, was it a matter of complete indifference to it?

The modest steam core emitted a robust, resonating growl, powering the mechanical vehicle to traverse the timeless streets of the city-state. As they journeyed, the scenery lining the edges of the road gradually retreated into the periphery of her vision, and the vehicle reduced its speed somewhat as they crossed another intersection.

“Ma’am, are we heading directly back to the cathedral?” Her subordinate’s voice punctured her contemplation from the driver’s seat.

Lifting her gaze, Agatha peered out of the car window, her gaze falling upon the familiar structure of the cathedral in the distance.Th.ê most uptodate novels are published on n(0)velbj)n(.)co/m

The Silent Cathedral, as always, silently dominated the city-state’s skyline.

At the city’s heart was a mountain, a rough conical landform that stood as the city-state’s core. Beneath it were the rich ore mines that bestowed a wealth that seemed to have no end. At the peak of this mountain were two prominent edifices—the Silent Cathedral and City Hall. These two grand structures, standing shoulder to shoulder at the city’s highest point, were visible from every nook and corner of the city-state.

At least one of them was always in view.

With its grandeur and solemnity, the cathedral appeared hallowed against the backdrop of the infinite sky. Opposite it stood the City Hall, another imposing structure. Half a century ago, during the reign of the queen, this building had been a palace. Officially named the “Winter Court,” it was colloquially referred to by most as the Queen’s Palace.

In that era, now considered forbidden to discuss, the Winter Court and the Silent Cathedral stood as twin sentinels over the city-state, their symbolic protective forces captured in the mythology of old—the church safeguarded the city through the night, and the royal house stood guard during the day, their forces complementing each other in a harmonious balance.

Despite the passage of time and the end of the queen’s era, the present-day reality wasn’t drastically different. City Hall, embodying secular power, continued to stand as the caretaker of the city.

Agatha found herself sinking deep into a contemplative state. Unconsciously, her gaze fixated on the mountain, a sight she had seen countless times, and the two buildings crowning it. These structures, to her, seemed like two titanic beasts perched at the summit. The multitude of houses and factories clustered on the mountain’s flank appeared to her as rivulets of lifeblood flowing from these beasts, meandering down the slopes.

A sudden, minor sting pricked at her eyes.

“Gatekeeper, shall we proceed to the cathedral?” The voice of her subordinate once more echoed from the front seat, jarring Agatha out of her reverie. She blinked, registering a faint humming in her ears that vanished as quickly as it came, along with her momentary lapse into the memories of a time now past.

“No, let’s make our way to the sewage treatment center first,” Agatha replied, shaking her head, “The ‘doppelganger’ that vanished in the washroom is a matter of concern. I need to verify the situation personally.”

“Understood.”

With a lively hum, the steam core resumed its operation, and with practiced elegance, the car traced an arc at the intersection, directing itself towards the sewage treatment center.

...

“No, not the observatory,” Lawrence abruptly cut off the first mate’s speculation, appearing to slowly emerge from a long bout of mental fog, “The observatory is reserved for special circumstances as it’s contaminated and we can’t rely on it frequently. There ought to be a simpler, more commonly used, safer method to confirm our direction during the day. There must be such a method...”

As he spoke, Lawrence’s words sped up, and then, as though a light bulb had been switched on in his mind, he abruptly pivoted and dashed towards the captain’s quarters, not providing any hint about his sudden recollection.

Left bemused but instinctively following the captain, the first mate trailed Lawrence back into the captain’s quarters, watching as Lawrence rummaged about the room. Eventually, he couldn’t resist asking, “What are you searching for?”

“Some sort of device, used during daylight, to correct the course...” Lawrence answered, his voice hurried as he continued his search, a potent memory starting to rise from the depths of his mind. He was on the brink of remembering, of knowing what he sought...And then, his gaze fastened on a table nearby.

Nestled on the table was a small apparatus, made up of a telescopic tube and several uniquely marked scales.

With hesitation, Lawrence approached and lifted the compact device, grappling with his memory to recollect its function.

After a few moments, he exited the room, the little instrument securely in hand, and emerged on the deck. The first mate watched as Lawrence held the device aloft and directed it skyward.

“Captain, what are you attempting?” the first mate questioned, unable to mask his curiosity.

Lawrence carefully lowered the device, a fleeting glimmer of deep green sparking within his eyes, unnoticed by the first mate standing opposite him.

The elderly captain’s expression was a mixture of bewilderment and astonishment—he and the first mate locked eyes for several intense seconds before he finally managed in a hoarse whisper, “Do you recall... an entity in the sky that glowed and emitted heat, moving with unwavering accuracy and precision above us, which ships used to orient their course during daylight...”

The first mate’s eyes widened as if dormant memories or inklings were stirring within his mind.

Turning his gaze back to the tumultuous clouds and the faint, seemingly sourceless light that lingered behind them—the light seemed to permeate uniformly, with no traces of a singular, intense luminous body amidst the cloud cover.

Drawing his gaze away from the nebulous expanse above, he fixed his gaze on his first mate, “Where has the sun vanished to?”

Confounded, the first mate could only echo the captain’s query, “Where has the sun vanished to?”

“We’re not astray, not ensnared, not caught in a cyclical anomaly...” Lawrence murmured softly, “The White Oak has sailed into an anomalous space...”

The first mate slowly raised his gaze, staring out across the vast sea beyond the ship’s side, a blend of confusion and fear etched on his face.

But suddenly, it seemed as if he’d discerned something.

There, breaking the monotony of the seascape, was a sliver of land.

A tiny island.