Chapter 745: As Dusk Falls

Chapter 745: As Dusk Falls

Agatha of Frost, a revered and enigmatic figure by her people, made her presence known under the cloak of the familiar grey winds that often heralded her arrival. In her unique position as both the city-state’s archbishop and priestess, she approached Duncan and Alice with a demeanor of solemn grace. Offering a slight bow in Duncan’s direction, she greeted them, “Good evening. It brings me great pleasure to witness your direct involvement in these proceedings.”

Duncan, his gaze drifting towards the horizon where the sea met the sky, lightly contested, “If we’re to be precise, the sun has yet to fully set. It’s still dusk.”

Agatha, unphased by the technicality, replied, “Indeed, dusk lingers, yet the lives of our people adhere to a more conventional schedule.” She then turned her attention to Alice, offering a gentle nod. “It has been an extensive period since our last encounter, Miss Alice.”

Caught off guard and momentarily flustered, Alice managed an awkward chuckle while scratching her head. “Oh... Ah! It’s been ages, hasn’t it? There’s also an Agatha aboard our ship so you threw me off for a second there.”

The mention of another bearing her name brought a smile to Agatha’s face. Despite her eyes being obscured by a black cloth, a sense of warmth seemed to radiate from her. “On the ship, you say? How has she been faring?”

Alice’s response was quick and animated, “Ah, she’s been great! She’s always chasing Shirley around, insisting they complete their homework together through a mirror. Occasionally, she’ll use the fog as cover to sneak around, claiming she’s merely out for a stroll, though I can tell she’s having fun in startling people.” Alice’s tone softened, “Everyone’s happy to be around her, except Shirley, who seems a tad unnerved.”

Agatha absorbed Alice’s recount with silent amusement, her initial surprise giving way to a heartfelt smile. After a brief pause, she softly acknowledged, “I see... That sounds wonderful.”

The conversation was then interrupted by Tyrian, seizing the moment to inquire, “Has the cathedral concluded the arrangements for tonight’s vigil?”

“I’ve just come from finalizing those details. Rest assured, we’re well-prepared,” Agatha assured him, her confidence momentarily faltering as she noted Tyrian’s discomfort, likely stemming from a digestive ailment. “Sir, are you experiencing stomach troubles?”

Caught off guard, Tyrian, despite his usual stoicism as the “Iron Admiral,” couldn’t hide his embarrassment. Recovering quickly, he awkwardly shifted the conversation towards Duncan, who was holding a paper bag. “Perhaps you’d like to try some potato cakes?”

The sudden shift in topic left Agatha perplexed, her gaze landing on the proffered snack. Eager to share, Duncan announced, “They’re a special recipe from Alice that’s captured the essence of Wind Harbor.”

Initially taken aback by the mention of Wind Harbor, Agatha politely declined, “My current form transcends the pleasures of the living, rendering me unable to partake in such delights. Nevertheless, I appreciate the gesture.”

Understanding Agatha’s condition, her form marred with cracks resembling a fragile doll, Duncan acknowledged her refusal with a resigned shrug, handing Tyrian the bag of potato cakes. “Then, it’s yours. Enjoy it at your leisure back home.”

Tyrian, momentarily caught off guard, accepted the bag of potato cakes from his father, his eyes casting a silent, contemplative glance over the eclectic assembly before him: a spectral figure, an entity no longer living, a sentient doll, and his own father, whose form resembled that of the departed.

It dawned on Tyrian, albeit a tad late, that among this peculiar congregation, he stood out as the sole bearer of a vibrant human essence, a stark contrast to the others’ connection to death or the supernatural.

Duncan, seemingly oblivious to the sudden shift in Tyrian’s demeanor, completed the handover of the potato cakes with a final clap of his hands before turning his gaze towards the celestial body that hung silently above the shoreline, its presence a quiet testament to the gravity of their situation.

Alice’s eyes widened in realization as she began to understand the dire nature of the situation they were discussing. “If things go south, someone from the North might never get to enjoy Wind Harbor’s potato cakes again.”

Addressing Alice’s concern, Duncan advised, “Don’t dwell on it too much. It’s not your burden to bear. The world has always had its dark corners, and today is no exception.”

Inspired by Duncan’s words, Alice suddenly looked up with renewed hope. “Then... when the time comes, you’ll step in, won’t you? Just like you did in Pland and Frost...”

Duncan remained silent, his response noncommittal, prompting Agatha to interject: “Exactly, with your aid, we’d stand a better chance at keeping the peace and ensuring some semblance of order after nightfall... at least preventing the worst from happening.”

Still, Duncan offered no confirmation, his silence speaking volumes.

This non-response led Tyrian to a realization. “You’re not planning on getting involved?”

Duncan clarified, shaking his head gently, “No, I’m contemplating other matters.”

He turned away, his gaze fixed on the “Lost Star” suspended in the sky, lost in thought. The silence that followed was profound, leaving even Tyrian hesitant to break it. After a lengthy pause, Duncan finally spoke, his voice soft yet carrying a weighty resolve: “Should we face the worst-case scenario, I may have to undertake a task that only I can accomplish. It could take me far away, perhaps for a very long time.”

In that moment, Tyrian experienced a fleeting, almost ethereal sensation, a kind of intuitive foreboding that seemed to wash over him, blurring the edges of his reality with a mix of light and shadow. It was as if, for an instant, he saw his father’s form standing in a realm so distant that no matter how much he reached out, he could never bridge the gap between them. It felt as though an unseen barrier was slowly enveloping them, ready to divide them across different dimensions of time and space.

This barrier appeared to shimmer with the light of countless stars, a sight both mesmerizing and unsettling.

However, the sensation was brief, and as Tyrian tried to grasp the fleeting impression, it slipped away, leaving behind a profound emptiness, as if his thoughts had been suspended in time and were now lost in an infinite abyss.

Duncan, turning towards him, his face partially obscured by bandages that hid all but his eyes, which held a serene and steady gaze, seemed to be looking not just at Tyrian but beyond.

“Don’t worry too much. Even in the worst of times, there will be a flame to re-illuminate the world. Difficult days are always temporary,” Duncan spoke, his voice carrying an undertone of something more, a hint of a deeper, unspoken truth.

Before Tyrian could delve further into his father’s words, a spectral flame erupted on the beach, slowly forming a vortex—an indication that it was time for Duncan to depart.

“I still have many things to do,” Duncan declared, offering a wave towards Tyrian, Aiden, and Agatha as he moved towards the burgeoning flame. His parting advice was, “Focus more on dealing with the coming nightfall and don’t overthink the issue.”

As he stepped into the flame, it soared upwards, tracing a path into the sky akin to a meteor reversing its course, swiftly vanishing from the sight of Tyrian, Agatha, and the others, leaving them to ponder the depth of his final words and the vast, unknown challenges that lay ahead.