Chapter 756: The Far Voyager

Chapter 756: The Far Voyager

In a fog so thick and clinging it felt almost like moving through a dense, sticky substance, the immaculate white exterior of the Sea Song glided forward like a spectral presence.

At first unnoticed by the crew, the once steady roar of the steam core began to transform. It morphed into a strange, low groan that intertwined with layers of echoes. This sound was punctuated by occasional sharp screeches from the pipes, mingled with soft murmurs that resembled the unintelligible whisperings of someone lost in a deep dream.

“The machine seems to have taken on a life of its own...” the priest reported after returning from the engine room to the bridge where the captain stood in command. “The calming effect of the incense we’ve been using is starting to wear off.”

“Sever the connection to the differential engine’s drive shaft, switch every piece of machinery to manual operation, and release some of the steam core’s pressure until it’s back in the yellow zone. Also, change the metal ore catalyst in two hours,” the captain instructed with calm authority. “And reduce the engine room staff’s shifts to three-hour rotations.”

“Yes, captain,” the priest responded, his head bowed in respect. Suddenly, his voice dropped to a hoarse, deep tone, as if a rush of uncontrolled air had forced its way out of his lungs, though it seemed to go unnoticed by those around him. He then turned to leave, and the stern-faced lady captain watched him go before diverting her gaze elsewhere.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a patch of rust beginning to form on the railing next to her seat. It spread slowly, emblematic of the relentless passage of time, years seeming to dissolve before her eyes.

But then, as quickly as it had appeared, the rust vanished from sight as if it were merely a trick of the light. Caught off guard and without a moment to process this anomaly, a deep, vaguely familiar yet eerily unsettling voice whispered directly into her mind:

“Ah... you have come... my little fish... swim, swim... back to the currents...”

The sound of waves gently lapping reached her ears as though she were engulfed by the sea itself, a chilling sensation creeping across her skin. The captain felt momentarily bewildered by the sensation but quickly regained her composure.

From afar, the ship’s first mate’s voice broke through the silence: “Captain! There’s something in the fog!”

This snapped the captain to full alertness, and she immediately turned her attention to the side of the bridge. Peering through the broad expanse of the cabin windows, she caught sight of a faint green glow slowly intensifying within the mist. It seemed as though a massive creature was making its approach, its form gradually becoming more distinct and revealing itself to be another ship.

A colossal ship with a towering bow and sails that appeared almost translucent emerged from the fog, approaching from the side and rear. It caught up to the Sea Song, which was running at full power with an eerie ease. This mysterious vessel was always enveloped in a sort of “distortion” that made it difficult to discern its finer details. However, the Sea Song’s captain instantly recognized the distinct features of this imposing ship—

“It’s the Vanished!” the captain cried out, her voice laced with astonishment, “How did it get here!?”

“That ship has appeared!”

“The Vanished!?”

“Wasn’t it last seen at Wind Harbor?!”

“It’s drawing near!”DiiScôver new stories on no/v/e()/lbin(.)c/o/m

These exclamations filled the bridge, creating a cacophony of shock and disbelief. Swiftly, the first mate approached the captain, urgency in his step: “Captain, that ship is closing in on us.”

“...Signal them with the light, ask what they want,” the captain quickly decided, then commanded, “Everyone, to your battle stations. Increase pressure in the church boiler. Remember, we are at the frontier. Do not hastily trust what you see; it may not be the Vanished as we know it.”

He appeared desiccated and grotesque as if the sea wind had mummified him over a century, his features contracted and distorted into a visage of horror.

This was no more than a grotesque mummy—but then, the captain realized with a jolt that it was her first mate.

The mummy spoke, its voice grating like coarse stone on stone: “Captain, welcome back to the ship. It seems your retirement is yet to come.”

“...You remained as well.” The captain responded, her voice now just as raspy and chilling as the figure before her.

“Yes, my tasks remain incomplete,” the first mate murmured, “The others have found their rest, but I was haunted by a dream. In it, a ghost ship ablaze with green fire emerged, and you beckoned me to signal it... alas, that signal roused me from sleep. I despise that ship—the Vanished, for it shattered the tranquility bestowed by God... those cursed green flames ensure I’ll never find peace again.”

The captain barely registered the first mate’s bitter recounting—though she noted his drastic changes, her weary mind struggled to focus on these minor details. She simply made her way to the helm, observing the first mate’s efforts there: “Can this ship still embark on a voyage?”

“No,” the first mate replied, turning his head to reveal a ghastly grin, “The steam core ceased to function ages ago, and the hull beneath us has decayed into nothing more than rubble. We’re utterly devoid of any power.”

“...Then what exactly are you attempting to do?”

“I’m trying to make this ship move again, captain,” the first mate explained with deliberate slowness, “If you grasp the steering wheel and will it like a ship... it will begin to move. Believe me, Captain. Eventually, we’ll navigate through this perpetual fog and return to the blasted expanse of the Boundless Sea...”

The captain took a seat, absorbing the first mate’s words. After a considerable silence, she murmured, almost as though she was engaging in a private conversation with herself: “Then I must also find myself a task.”

“I would advise you to leave behind some form of documentation,” the first mate suggested, “Once we cross that boundary again, it’s uncertain what transformations might occur. The changes could be profound; you might no longer be yourself, and I may evolve further beyond my current state. It’s possible we’ll forget our identities and our actions. Only sacred scripture has the power to offer lasting insight...”

Sacred scriptures...

The captain’s eyelids fluttered slowly, her mind briefly sharpening. With a moment’s pause for consideration, she extended her hand to retrieve something from the pocket of her frayed coat.

What she found was her logbook—a possession of every captain who sailed the sea.

Time had also left its mark on the logbook, yet the paper, sanctified by divine blessing, had resisted the ravages of time and decay; its inscriptions remained legible.

She bowed her head, drawing a pencil from another pocket, and began to inscribe a new entry on its pages—

“I am Captain Caraline of the Sea Song. Herein lies the record of my voyage home...”

“We encountered ‘Him’—approximately fifty years after we crossed the critical threshold beyond the six-mile marker.”