Deep Sea Embers

Suddenly, a fragment of an old conversation resurfaced in Lawrence’s mind; it was a simple yet profound statement once spoken by “Martha.” He found himself wrestling with the nature of his memories – were they just figments of his imagination, or did they hold the true essence of Martha as he knew her? Or was this current “Martha” standing before him a more authentic reflection of her reality? One thing, however, was unwaveringly clear – his path was destined to lead him to a place known as Frost. The exact location of Frost, however, remained shrouded in enigma.

Lawrence, bearing a heavy furrow between his brows, couldn’t conceal his frustration as he spoke up, “We’ve been circling in search for the elusive path to Frost. Ever since we sneaked out of the city port, covered by the black canvas of night, we haven’t been able to trace the city again. Even retracing our steps led us only to an endless expanse of ocean.”

Flashing a smile and shaking her head, Martha offered a surprising insight. “You see, Lawrence, your approach won’t lead you to Frost. Frost, it seems, has been purposefully eluding you.”

Caught off guard, Lawrence asked, “Why on earth would Frost seek to hide from me?”

Instead of offering a verbal response, Martha simply gestured silently towards the ethereal flame that danced undeterred on Lawrence.

In that moment, a wave of realization washed over the old captain. Glancing down at his ghostly arm, he mused aloud, “Could it be that our unimpeded escape from the city port earlier was not a mere stroke of luck… Rather than us leaving, could it be the city itself that moved away from the White Oak?”

Turning his gaze back to Martha, his face a unique blend of comprehension and confusion, Lawrence asked, “What then is our next move? At present, the White Oak is closer to the Vanished than when we first set out from the port. If the city is intentionally distancing itself from me, how do I propose to find it?”

“I’ll locate it,” Martha answered with an air of serene certainty.

Startled, Lawrence questioned her, “You’re sure you can find it?”

“Absolutely,” affirmed Martha, her voice brimming with confidence. “Over the years, my ship and I have formed an inseparable bond with this sea. Even if I have now parted from this great entity, it won’t be aware of it immediately. Besides, the current existence of the Black Oak is more akin to the ‘mirror image’ of the White Oak. I haven’t directly interacted with the Vanished, at least not yet. Frost won’t recoil from me… It’s not as ‘sly’ as you might think.”

Lawrence nodded, grasping only a part of her explanation. Still slightly puzzled, he asked, “But if you’re the only one who can approach it, what about the White Oak and me? If we reveal ourselves, won’t it inevitably ‘retreat’?”

In response, Martha merely offered a comforting smile.

Closing the distance between them, she reached out and gently placed her hand on Lawrence’s chest. Her gaze held a depth of wisdom that appeared to transcend mortal understanding. In a soft whisper, she suggested, “The answer is simpler than you think. Let’s swap our roles. In this place, the boundary between a being and its reflection isn’t as clear cut.”

Her suggestion struck Lawrence with surprise. He opened his mouth to delve deeper into this idea, but before he could formulate his questions, a faint pressure spread from his chest.

This subtle force, while gentle, triggered a wave of vertigo that swept over Lawrence. He felt his balance shift, and his body began to tilt backwards. In the fleeting moments before he succumbed to unconsciousness, he was aware of a supportive form catching him from behind. Martha’s calming voice echoed in his ears, “Take a short reprieve, dear heart. The journey that lies before us is beyond comprehension.”

Lawrence fell into a deep slumber. It felt like only a brief moment had passed when he was jolted awake, his first instinct to call out, “Martha!”

The voice that responded was not Martha’s, but his First Mate Gus’, “Captain, are you awake at last?”

As consciousness fully returned, Lawrence found himself struggling to sit upright. He took a deep breath to combat the disorientation from such an abrupt awakening from sleep. Surveying his surroundings, he discovered he was tucked into his bed in the captain’s quarters. Gus and a few other crew members stood near with expressions of apprehension etched on their faces.

Also, he recognized the familiar figure in the less conspicuous corner of the room – Anomaly 077, the mummified entity was casually toying with a noose around its neck. But the moment Lawrence’s gaze landed on it, it swiftly hid the rope and feigned innocence.

“Wh-What happened…?” Lawrence managed to ask, his breathing still erratic. He ran a hand over his forehead, trying to discern the boundaries between reality and dream. The recent events shimmered in his memory like mirages, alternating between clarity and obscurity.

“You were brought back to the White Oak. The ‘Sailor’ was responsible for your return,” Gus quickly replied, nodding towards the mummy in the corner, “You’ve been unconscious for several hours.”

“I have this recollection… of venturing onto the Black Oak, of encountering Martha… Did these incidents actually occur?” Lawrence continued, rubbing his forehead harder as he sought for clarity, then raising his gaze again, “And where might the Black Oak be situated presently?”

“Your memory serves you well, Captain. You did indeed board that ship, and the ‘Sailor’ confirmed your meeting with Miss Martha,” Gus helped Lawrence to his feet, his expression turning strange midway through his explanation, “Concerning the current location of the Black Oak… Well, Captain, the circumstances are quite extraordinary. I’m not sure how best to explain…”

“Extraordinary?” Lawrence’s brow creased in confusion, “In what way?”

“Our vessel is currently non-responsive; both the steering mechanism and the propeller are malfunctioning, leaving the White Oak as aimless as a ghost ship. As for the Black Oak… I think it’s best if you witness it with your own eyes.”

The worry lacing Gus’s words caused Lawrence’s expression to harden. Shrugging off the supporting hand, he followed his crew out of the door, his face lined with deep concern.

As he did so, he started to notice certain alterations, both within himself and amongst his crew.

The spectral flames that had previously enveloped their bodies were now mysteriously absent. Everyone, including Lawrence, had reverted to their tangible forms, and the surrounding floor and walls no longer exhibited the fiery spectral characteristics of the Vanished. It was as if every detail of their environment had somehow returned to a state of normalcy.

Noticing Lawrence’s examining gaze, the first mate offered a clarification, “The ethereal flames dissipated a few hours ago, soon after you were returned here.”

Lawrence responded with a silent nod, his curiosity stirred by the hint of unease visible in his typically unflappable first mate’s demeanor.

Exiting the cabin alongside his crew, Lawrence stepped onto the deck of the White Oak. Almost immediately, he sensed an… oddity in his surroundings.

The air was damp and chilly, laden with the salty tang of the sea. The sky was unsettlingly dark, filled with ghostly shapes that floated menacingly overhead. Despite the lack of any discernible wind, he felt an unnerving sense of movement brushing against his skin. Occasionally, peculiar, bubble-like distortions appeared out of nowhere, disturbing the nearby air.

As Lawrence processed the disconcerting elements of his environment, he began to comprehend the extraordinary circumstances that had transpired. His understanding deepened when First Mate Gus guided him to the ship’s edge.

“Behold, the Black Oak.” Positioned at the brink of the ship, the first mate pointed downwards towards the water below.

Following Gus’s gaze, Lawrence observed the “ocean” rolling gently, the waves formed by the White Oak’s movement twisting into an eerie, unnatural pattern. Upon the distorted, mirror-like surface of the sea, he saw a “reflection” of their ship.

The image mirrored back was of a shadowy vessel, enveloped in dense fog and darkness, with only a handful of ghostly lights punctuating its outline. The “reflection” seemed to sail beneath the White Oak, defying the wind’s direction.

At that moment, Lawrence finally grasped the full implication of Martha’s final words. Their roles had been reversed – the White Oak was now a mere reflection of the Black Oak.

“Captain…” First Mate Gus, taking note of the changes in Lawrence’s countenance, surmised that the seasoned captain might have unraveled their current predicament. “What’s going on? Why has our reflection in the water morphed into the Black Oak? And why are we unable to steer the ship…”

“We’re not directionless, we’re simply tracing the course of the Black Oak,” Lawrence responded, a soft smile gracing his features. “Tell the crew to rest easy. We’re on our way to a location that promises the answers to all our dilemmas.”

“A location that has the answers to all our issues?” The first mate blinked in confusion, “Where exactly are we going?”

“Our final destination is Frost.”

…

As the cloak of night descended over the city-state, two distinct figures navigated their way swiftly through the desolate, curfewed streets.

One was an imposing figure, broad of shoulder and shrouded in a black overcoat, a specter mirrored by the encroaching darkness. The other was notably shorter, and although bundled up in a thick winter cloak, their slight, lean physique was still discernible.

An icy breeze whipped through the street, prompting the shorter figure to sneeze vehemently: “…Achoo!”

Duncan, the taller of the two, glanced down at Shirley, who was now rubbing her nose, “I had advised you to wear a scarf, but you dismissed the idea. The nights in Frost are considerably chillier than in Pland.”

“This cold…” Shirley involuntarily tightened her attire. Despite her warm clothing, the biting wind still sent an unwelcome shiver through her body. Being a native of Pland, she was still acclimating to Frost’s harsh climate, “I’m beginning to regret venturing out…”

Duncan responded with a dry smile, “You proclaimed you’d rather do anything than be stuck with homework.”

Reminded of her earlier bravado, Shirley held her head high against the biting wind, asserting, “Indeed, that’s exactly what I said!”

“Among all your peers, your tenacity is unparalleled,” Duncan sighed, a sense of helpless amusement washing over him. He then shifted his gaze, his eyes fixated on a distant alley, “We should keep moving, I’d rather not cross paths with the night patrol.”

Struggling to match Duncan’s brisk stride, Shirley, despite her shorter legs, managed to keep pace. Her curiosity piqued, she asked, “What’s the objective of this outing?”

“We’re paying a visit to ensure someone’s well-being,” Duncan replied nonchalantly, pressing onward.

“Visiting someone?” Shirley looked up at the towering captain beside her, “Who are we visiting?”

“The gatekeeper, Agatha,” Duncan responded in a tone laced with indifference.

However, his eyes were focused on something far beyond the shadow-cloaked street, towards its endpoint.

A few eerie, green flames danced within his line of sight, their intensity fluctuating as if being observed through a thick mist.