Deep Sea Embers

In the midst of the tumultuous cacophony of artillery fire, a mysterious ghostly doppelganger of a ship had mysteriously materialized. It charged fearlessly across the war-torn battlefield, right under the scrutinizing gaze of the embattled parties. Its presence seemed to arrest not only the crew aboard the Sea Mist but also left a noticeable impact on those “imitation” warships lurking deep in the mist, leaving them dumbfounded for a fleeting moment.

Suddenly, from his peripheral, Tyrian caught Aiden’s voice slicing through the deafening chaos: “Captain… the one that just streaked past seemed to have also emerged from the obscurity of the fog. Should we… launch an attack?”

Upon hearing Aiden’s query, every eye on the ship’s bridge swiveled to their captain. His words from moments ago still echoed in their minds: Anything unfamiliar that intrudes upon this ocean during battle is presumed to be an enemy.

“Attack my foot!” Tyrian retorted after a few seconds of strained silence, “Do we even stand a chance of catching up?! And did you not witness the silhouette of that ship under the water?”

Aiden withdrew, a flicker of light playing off his bald head. After a pause, he admitted, “Yes, I noticed it. The shadow… it appeared to be engulfed in an eerie, ghostly flame.”

No sooner had the first mate’s words dissipated than a deep, resonating rumble emanated from within the Sea Mist’s hull. Concurrently, a sudden blast of the whistle from above the ship’s deck rang out – this ship, its very essence altered by some mystical power, and once a protector of the Vanished Fleet, seemed to be autonomously acknowledging the first mate’s observation.

“The ship has also picked up on it,” Aiden surveyed his surroundings before turning back to Tyrian, his face a jumble of emotions, “Captain, any thoughts on what that ship could possibly be?”

“Maybe it’s something my father had put in place,” Tyrian replied, his tone heavy with seriousness, “Don’t question it too much. Let’s focus on the ongoing battle. And send a word out to all our allies, including the Frost Navy, to refrain from obstructing that peculiar… Oh, forget it, given its pace…”

Tyrian’s sentence was cut short as the sailor beside him, who was tasked with monitoring the radio, abruptly received a transmission. Rising to his feet, he announced: “Captain! We’ve just received word from the Frost Navy’s ‘Sea Owl’. They’re reporting an unusual, super-speed ghost ship that has just shot past them, heading directly towards Frost. They’re inquiring if it’s one of ours.”

A tired sigh escaped Tyrian as he pinched the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he dismissively waved his hand: “We can’t reveal any details about the Vanished to them. Simply say that it’s an ally without offering any further explanation. Once things settle down a little, I will personally get in touch with ‘him’.”

“Understood, Captain!”

As the cannons continued their ferocious symphony, the onslaught of fire and explosions within the mist didn’t cease in the slightest, not even during this brief interlude. Amid the majestic spouts of water erupting in the distance, Tyrian’s contemplative gaze pierced through the heavy fog blanketing the combat zone, quietly observing the direction in which the peculiar ship had just disappeared.

…

“I believe we just collided with something!”

From the porthole, Lawrence rushed back to his workstation. He loudly addressed a small mirror placed on his desk, his gaze anxiously darting back and forth between the mirror and the ominous view outside. The sea beyond the porthole, shrouded in darkness and haze, seemed to be teeming with countless shadowy, intangible entities bobbing on the surface, rendering it nearly impossible to distinguish between reality and illusion.

And amongst these phantom images, the White Oak was speeding its way.

Black fog roiled within the mirror, and emerging from the gloom was a female adventurer clad in a captain’s uniform.

“We didn’t collide with anything,” Martha assured him, her smile brimming with mirth, “We almost did, though.”

“An almost collision is still pretty terrifying!” Lawrence snatched up the small mirror as he hastened towards the window, his words tumbling out rapidly, “With no reference points, I didn’t notice how fast we’re going. What’s our current speed?!”

“Exceptionally fast, astonishingly so – insubstantial illusions can glide through the waves as swiftly as the wind,” Martha answered, her smile unwavering as she met Lawrence’s eyes through the mirror, “Do you remember the promise you made to me years ago? You said you wished to transform the White Oak and Black Oak into the finest vanguard exploration ships, and then, together with me, sweep across the sea like the wind… my love, we are currently at a seven or eight.”

“That was a figure of speech! A figure of speech!” A spark of panic flickered in Lawrence’s eyes. Just as he was about to retort, another colossal illusion nearly skimmed past his porthole. This illusion boasted a towering bridge and distant-pointing gun turrets, embroiled in a battle with adversaries in another realm. The White Oak-Black Oak seemed to have barely whizzed past its primary cannon.

After a moment, Lawrence raised his hand and lightly tapped his forehead, sighing in resignation: “Forget it, as long as we’re safe. What’s the current situation outside?”

“We’re navigating through the war zone,” Martha replied, her tone steady.

“War zone? Who’s in conflict?”

Martha pivoted her gaze in the mirror, seemingly surveying her surroundings. After a brief pause, she returned her attention to Lawrence: “In the tangible world, it’s the Frost Navy. They’re combating the renowned Mist Fleet. Their opponents are the illusory duplicates that have transitioned from the mirror realm into the real world.”

A weighty unease lodged itself within Lawrence’s chest, his facial features pulling into a grim mask: “…Has the end time arrived?”

“It appears so,” Martha answered in a gentle tone, “The mirror world is beginning to intersect with the real one. The final ‘anti-phase’ process is now underway.”

“So soon? I thought you mentioned this process wouldn’t kick off prematurely?”

“I could only estimate loosely, Lawrence. Ever since our departure from the counterfeit fleet, my connection with this mirrored dimension has been diminishing rapidly. I’m unsure of the precise occurrence, but evidently, someone has intentionally hastened the mirror’s anti-phase process…”

Lawrence fell silent for a moment, and his gaze was affixed on the nebulous, tumultuous sea outside and the unending parade of illusionary shadows. After a pause, he abruptly queried, “Are we still navigating through the mirrored sea?”

“Yes, we remain ensnared within this mirror realm,” Martha confirmed with a nod, “But the boundary between the mirror world and reality is rapidly fading – we are running short on time.”

“What will occur once the anti-phase process completes?” Lawrence pressed further.

“When a city-state morphs into a spawning ground for the advent of ancient deities, what do you presume would happen?” Martha replied with an equanimity that contrasted sharply with her words.

Subconsciously, Lawrence began to knead his temples.

“…Damn it, how far are we from reaching Frost?”

“We’re almost there,” Martha indicated outside the window by raising her hand within the mirror, “From my side, I can already discern the glow of the port area. An astounding number of ships, spanning half a century’s worth of wrecks, alongside countless duplicates, are converging in the surrounding sea. However, they seem to be disregarding the Black Oak, at least for the time being.”

Seriousness etched deeply into his features, Lawrence nodded. He picked up the mirror he used to converse with Martha, swung open the door, and exited his captain’s quarters. As he made his way towards the bridge, he questioned in a grave tone, “What do you need me to do once we dock at Frost?”

“Locate their stronghold. The energy employed to create and sustain this mirror realm is nestled deep within Frost. I can perceive its approximate location,” Martha’s perpetual smile faded into a solemn expression as she locked gazes with Lawrence, her tone adopting a particularly serious quality, “And as soon as you commence the search, the counterfeits surrounding the city-state are likely to react right away. I’ll devise a strategy to keep them at bay.”

“…Can the Black Oak and White Oak manage to fend them off single-handedly? You mentioned earlier that a vast number of ships are congregating…”

“We are part of the Vanished Fleet, Lawrence,” Martha’s lips curled into a small, reassuring smile, “And besides, we are not the sole participants in this conflict.”

Grasping her implications, Lawrence looked contemplatively out of the window where those shadowy ships continued their battle on the distant waters.

As the minutes ticked by, the boundary between the mirrored world and reality grew ever more indistinct. Soon, the entire sea, encompassing both the Mirror Frost and Real Frost, would be ablaze.

“I understand,” Lawrence replied, withdrawing his gaze from the window. He continued his brisk walk towards the bridge, speaking again, “But there’s one last concern. I can guide the team into Frost, but how do we handle that… ‘entity’ embedded deep within the city-state? If it’s truly an ancient god, or a fragment of one as you’ve suggested, then our conventional weaponry may prove ineffective.”

He had reached the bridge by now.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Lawrence pushed the door open.

His first mate, second mate, the ship’s pastor, and his crew—all were waiting for him there.

Also present was the peculiar anomaly 077 – Sailor. This mummified figure had somehow acquired a crew hat from the White Oak, which now sat atop its head, and was sitting upright in a chair, observing the rest of the crew’s activities with an almost childlike curiosity.

Approaching them, Lawrence was met with salutes from his crew.

Martha’s voice drifted out from the mirror: “You will receive assistance.”

In the process of returning his crew’s salutes, Lawrence’s attention was caught by Martha’s words. Surprised, he glanced at Martha in the mirror: “Assistance?”

“Yes, assistance. They have been battling within the depths of this mirrored world for many years, seeking to penetrate the doorway to the city-state’s core, yet they’ve never managed to succeed. Find them. There will be no need to explain your purpose. They will naturally provide you with support… most likely.”

“Most likely?!”

“I can’t guarantee it because I’m unsure about their true nature or their capacity to communicate with humans. Lawrence, even though I’ve spent numerous years here, my freedom has been significantly curtailed.”

“Alright, I understand,” Lawrence sighed, before curiosity took over, “I assumed we were the sole ones combating the ‘counterfeits’ in this area. I didn’t expect there were others. Who are they?”

“They refer to themselves as… the Queen’s Guard.”