Deep Sea Embers

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The winch groaned as it rotated, pulling the steel cables that were stretched to their limit. The elevator cage, a robust structure of iron, emitted a persistent creaking noise as it slowly descended into the depths below. The overwhelming darkness outside the cage was intermittently punctuated by the faint glow of gas lamps placed at intervals on the mine shaft walls. These dim lights, though sparse, were vital in offering a sliver of security and orientation in this subterranean world.

Agatha positioned herself near the front of the elevator, her eyes intently observing the descending shaft beyond the safety rails. The profound darkness masked her features, making it difficult for those around her to discern her emotions or the thoughts racing through her mind.

“It’s… so incredibly deep,” a voice broke the silence within the elevator. It was Alice, standing a little behind Duncan. Her eyes followed the retreating light of the gas lamps on the walls of the shaft. A shiver of anxiety evident in her voice, she added, “It feels as though we’re sinking right through the city’s foundations and plunging into the abyss of the sea.”

Morris, the elder scholar, remarked from a distant corner of the elevator, absorbed in its mechanical intricacies, “This prolonged descent can indeed create such an illusion. In reality, we’ve likely traveled only a few hundred meters downwards.”

Alice responded with an elongated “Oh”, her face awash with wonder, grappling with the enormity of the distance mentioned.

Meanwhile, Duncan was somewhat disengaged from the conversation between Alice and Morris. Drawn to Agatha’s contemplative stance at the front of the cage, he approached her and remarked to the introspective ‘gatekeeper’, “Your mind seems to be elsewhere.”

Taking a deep breath and pausing momentarily, Agatha replied with an air of depth and introspection, “Ever since we began our descent, I’ve been overwhelmed with thoughts. They say that my counterpart stood right here, guiding an exploration team deeper into this very metal mine.” Her voice wavered, uncertainty evident.

“She appeared to have had an epiphany about her own existence back then,” Agatha continued. “The guardians who accompanied her recall her demonstrating an unwavering determination. But they couldn’t fathom the reason.”

Duncan, choosing his words carefully, whispered, “If this ‘duplicate’ of yours possessed most of your memories and emotions, it’s entirely plausible she had a profound understanding of her predicament. A clone can also exhibit resilience and nobility.”

Agatha remained silent for a while, seemingly drowning in a sea of intricate thoughts. Finally, her voice breaking the stillness, she mused, “I constantly ponder… what went through her mind in that instance? What memories flooded back to her? Did she ever feel fear or remorse? She bore my memories, yet her existence spanned merely a few days. Would she have harbored resentment?”

Duncan, observing her intently, took a moment before replying, “If you were in her place, would you have held any resentment or regretted your choices?”

She answered resolutely, “No, I would not have felt resentment.”

He nodded slowly, “Then, undoubtedly, she wouldn’t have either.”

Yet Agatha continued, her voice a mix of sadness and reflection, “However, I believe I’d be riddled with regrets. Dying in this oppressive darkness, my thoughts would invariably wander to the sunlit city-states above, the familiar faces and the places I cherish. As a clone, the thought of not crossing Bartok’s gate would haunt me, pondering the uncertainty of possessing a soul. So yes, in her place, I would indeed be consumed by regret.”

Duncan intently observed Agatha. After a prolonged silence, his attention was drawn to the encroaching darkness surrounding them. “Then she would have felt the same,” he murmured, acknowledging Agatha’s earlier thoughts.

Agatha hesitated, her voice soft, almost as if she were contemplating aloud, “What mysteries await us below?”

“The unknown is precisely why we need to explore,” Duncan countered, letting his eyes drift to the other passengers in the elevator. Alice stood nervously to one side, while Morris seemed engrossed in thought. In contrast, Vanna appeared undisturbed by the descent, standing firmly at the center, her arms folded and eyes shut, likely taking a moment of reprieve. Except for these individuals and themselves, the carriage was devoid of additional company.

Observing this, Agatha inquired, “You refrained from summoning any of your subordinates and opted just for us. Was it caution that guided this decision?”

“The uncertainties of what lurks below are aplenty—perhaps remnants of ancient deities or the spreading ‘truth’. Introducing regular guardians and priests to such unpredictable situations might exacerbate the risks,” Agatha replied straightforwardly. “It’s clear that neither you nor your associates are perturbed by these potential threats.”

Duncan, absorbing her words, offered a knowing smile, choosing to remain silent.

The elevator’s descent began to decelerate noticeably. The sounds of the machinery groaning to a halt, combined with the resounding thud of the lift touching the mine’s base, signaled their arrival.

“We’ve reached our destination,” announced Agatha. She raised her gaze, inspected the surroundings briefly, then confidently swung the gate open. As she stepped out, she instinctively advised those trailing her, “Exercise caution. The area has only been superficially cleared. The first responders vacated mere hours ago. We truly are venturing into uncharted territory.”

Mid-stride, she paused, glancing back at Duncan with a sheepish grin, “Though I suppose such warnings might be superfluous for someone like you…”

Duncan gestured dismissively, conveying his indifference. His eyes once again peered into the ominous tunnel ahead. The sporadic glow of gas lamps scarcely penetrated the engulfing darkness, casting a haunting and indistinct light. Random debris strewn haphazardly, combined with the spine-chilling ambiance, hardly instilled confidence.

Reflecting aloud, Duncan remarked, “Perhaps we should’ve kept Nina aboard a bit longer. Her skills could be beneficial in such gloomy confines.”

Morris couldn’t resist commenting, “Considering the possibility of her getting startled and inadvertently unleashing a scorching sneeze potent enough to obliterate this entire tunnel, it might’ve been wise to exclude her. It’s advisable to avoid placing young Nina in confined, dimly lit settings—her youth can render her a tad jumpy.”

Duncan responded with a nonchalant shrug, “Youth is a phase of growth. She’s on the brink of completing high school, after all.”

Morris’s facial expression momentarily tensed. After a brief struggle for words, he retorted, “Captain, usually high school graduates commemorate their transition to adulthood with festivities or perhaps a vacation. They don’t typically plunge into god-forsaken mine shafts as a ‘graduation present’…”

Duncan burst into laughter. An idea seemingly struck him, prompting him to address Vanna, “When you turned seventeen and had your coming-of-age celebration, how did you mark the occasion?”

His query was light-hearted, perhaps seeking inspiration for future celebrations for either Nina or Shirley.

Caught off guard, Vanna found herself thrust into the limelight. The striking young woman hesitated momentarily, her cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise and mild embarrassment. Pushing through her initial hesitation, she softly admitted, “…I was busy prepping for my makeup exams for the school year I had to delay…”

A prolonged silence ensued.

Duncan’s expression remained unchanged, though the atmosphere felt decidedly more awkward. All he could do was offer a helpless shrug in response. Meanwhile, Agatha, who had been leading the way, abruptly halted and spun around, shooting Duncan a glance full of disbelief.

“What’s the matter?” Duncan inquired nonchalantly.

“Every time I witness your interactions with your followers, it always strikes me as somewhat… otherworldly,” she remarked. “The man I see before me, one who has rediscovered his humanity, is a far cry from the legendary figure tales from the past century painted you as. Now, I think I’m starting to grasp why Captain Lawrence and his crew from the White Oak were such an enigmatic lot.”

Duncan remained impassive to Agatha’s initial comments. Yet, as she delved deeper into her thoughts, his demeanor began to shift subtly. Once she finished, he quickly clarified, “For the record, while everyone aboard the White Oak is technically under my command, I’m honestly not particularly intimate with any of them…”

Agatha offered a nod of agreement, “Yes, I’m aware you’re not close with them – you’ve reiterated that point previously.”

Detecting a hint of jest in her voice, Duncan sighed resignedly, “And how did things end up with Lawrence’s ‘cargo list’?”

“With the current demands at Frost, we’re in desperate need of supplies. We’ve always been sticklers for upholding our end of contracts. Now that the merchandise has been delivered, naturally, the next logical step would be remittance,” Agatha began, pausing to shake her head slightly, “However, we can only manage partial payment.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow, “Why’s that?”

“The most pivotal piece of cargo, Anomaly 077, has proven uncontrollable and hence, non-deliverable,” she detailed. “Our agreement mandated that the White Oak hand over the ‘Sailor’ in a secured state to the Frost’s Relics Hall. What wasn’t part of the deal was an animated mummy…”

Agatha continued, revealing a tidbit, “Interestingly enough, the mummy seemed positively thrilled about its inclusion in the delivery list. Upon learning it was destined for Frost, it nearly burst into tears of joy. Yet, we’re at a loss about how to manage an anomaly that’s been uncontrollable for such an extended period and can’t be secured any longer. It seems prudent to entrust this to your expertise.”

“An anomaly that’s been uncontrollable for an extended period…”

Duncan murmured pensively, his gaze inadvertently drifting sideways.

Alice, sensing Duncan’s gaze, turned to face him. An elated expression blossomed across the visage of the doll-like lady, eliciting a chuckle, “Hehe…”

Duncan exhaled a resigned sigh, admitting, “I guess I do have some experience in that department.”

Agatha’s eyes instinctively shifted to Alice, a blend of emotions evident in her expression.

By now, Duncan had enlightened her regarding the actual origins of this “Miss Doll”. Being a native of Frost, Agatha was fully cognizant of just how anomalous it was for “Anomaly 099” to be wandering freely within its bounds.

Innumerable queries swirled in her mind, accompanied by a burning curiosity and an unsettling feeling in her previously unyielding heart. Yet, Duncan’s apparent indifference deterred her every time she considered answering her questions.

Finally, she mustered the courage to voice her thoughts, breaking the ongoing silence. But, as she was about to broach the subject of Alice, an unexpected surge of anxiety abruptly silenced her.

At the same time, everyone on the team stopped in their tracks.

Agatha turned her head, looking towards the deepest end of this profound, long alleyway. Beneath the thick black cover, her vision, already heightened in the flames, wavered, trembled, and distorted. It was as if an invisible wind was blowing against her face, and countless chaotic voices were mixed in that wind, assaulting her senses.

She felt her consciousness being disturbed. A massive presence from deep within the tunnel… no, strictly speaking, the remnants left by a massive presence, was resonating with her sanity. She couldn’t “see” what was there, but she could feel… a faint echo within that vast and unparalleled remnant.

That faint echo was softly beckoning her to come over.

“What’s… over there?”

The blind priestess asked. She subconsciously reached out, seemingly trying to steady her somewhat shaky body.

A slightly large but distinctly feminine hand reached out from the side — Vanna had reached out and supported Agatha, lifting her gaze towards the immense darkness at the end of the tunnel.

“It seems like a hollow tunnel,” Vanna murmured, her tone carrying a trace of tension, “a vast hollow tunnel….”