Deep Sea Embers

The submersible’s powerful lights pierced the gloom of the vast ocean, unmasking shadowy figures that were previously hidden within the abyssal darkness. As these elusive beings floated into Duncan’s field of vision, he noticed their human-like shapes, almost unending in number, suspended and gently swaying in the vast aquatic realm.

But as he looked more carefully, a strange feature about these entities became evident. They didn’t have any specific facial characteristics or distinguishable limbs. No clothes adorned their form. Instead, these beings were merely vague, human-esque silhouettes, their textures coarse and their hue a rich, absorbing shade of black.

Their appearance was reminiscent of figures hastily molded from obsidian clay, rudimentary representations devoid of intricate details.

Sharing his discovery with Agatha, Duncan commented, “They seem to be mere silhouettes, don’t they?” Agatha’s reply conveyed astonishment: “From where I sit, they exude a sort of spiritual luminance, almost as if they are sentient entities inhabiting an underwater city…”

Silenced by this revelation, Duncan’s forehead creased in thought as he skillfully steered the submersible closer to one of these ‘human forms’ hovering nearby.

The subtle movements caused by the submersible’s propulsion disturbed the serenity of their watery surroundings, causing one of the figures, with its spherical, smooth ‘head’, to drift closer to the observation window. Its stunted, coarse limbs appeared unfinished, floating in the water.

With deliberate slowness, a mechanical arm extended, its clawed end gently tapping the figure’s midsection.

Yet, there was no reaction. No sign that it was a living entity.

Lifting his eyes, Duncan intently observed the other forms in the distance as they glided momentarily within the boundary of the submersible’s illumination, only to fade back into the encompassing darkness.

He pondered, how vast was this assembly of entities? Were they in the thousands? Maybe tens of thousands? Or could their numbers reach millions?

A distant memory resurfaced in Duncan’s thoughts. He remembered a detail from the Abyss Project briefing with Tyrian. The third submersible had returned in panic after its last dive. Once extracted, its explorer repeated a harrowing statement: “We all died down there!”

With furrowed brows, Duncan stared out, pondering the vast number of shadowy forms floating outside. Could this have been the haunting scene that drove the previous explorer to the brink of insanity?

Breaking the quiet, Agatha spoke with an earnest voice, “This scenario… It makes me think of the ‘imitations’ that once invaded our city-state.”

“I had a similar thought,” Duncan replied, “but these are different. Even with their strange qualities, the imitations still had human features – faces, limbs, and regular clothing. On the other hand, these figures are even more basic, only capturing the essence of a human form. It’s as if they’re preliminary sketches, even more primitive than the imitations.”

“What if they’re in an early stage?” Agatha proposed, “Could it be that the imitations are developed from these initial, crude versions?”

Duncan spoke cautiously, his voice tinged with hesitation. “Determining the origins of these forms is challenging. It’s possible that they’ve been floating aimlessly in the depths of the ocean for a long time, maybe even before the Abyss Project was initiated. The entities that attacked our city-state came into our dimension through the ‘mirror’ feature, but these oceanic forms exist physically in this realm. There might be a link between the two, but it’s probably not as simple as saying one evolved from the other.”

Agatha pondered his words, finding them thought-provoking. She was suddenly reminded of something a cultist had said during a previous confrontation: “There were never any counterfeits to begin with; in other words, we’re all fakes…”

As if a light bulb went off in his head at the same moment, Duncan’s eyes scanned the floating, clay-like forms before darting to the dark, mysterious waters beneath them. His hand reached for the lever controlling the submersible’s descent.

Inside the belly of the submersible, the sound of creaking, grinding machinery reverberated as if ancient, decrepit equipment were gasping for breath. The vessel’s hull groaned under the immense water pressure. As Duncan maneuvered the controls, the submersible began its further descent into the abyss.

Amidst the symphony of eerie noises enveloping them, Agatha looked over at Duncan with concern. “Captain, is this vessel sturdy enough for this?”

Duncan’s eyes were fixed on the control panel, interpreting the faint signals sent by the indicator lights. His grip on the lever remained unflinchingly firm. “It’ll hold up,” he said with quiet assurance, “We’re getting close.”

“Close to what?” Agatha questioned, a mixture of surprise and anticipation coloring her words. “Do you know what’s down there?”

Duncan didn’t answer. He focused on piloting the submersible with meticulous precision, tweaking the angle of the propellers ever so slightly. The hull itself, already under a lot of strain, began to make more unsettling noises with each passing moment. Even the seam where the viewport connected to the rest of the hull emitted distressing creaks and cracks. The vehicle seemed perpetually on the edge of collapsing, the immense pressure of the water threatening to crush it into a twisted ball of metal.

Nevertheless, they continued their descent, precariously teetering on the brink of catastrophe, plunging deeper into the pitch-black depths.

But it wasn’t just the ship’s structure that sounded alarms. There were other sounds originating from outside the vessel and far more disconcerting—persistent, shocking impact noises: “Bang, Bang, Bang…”

These clay-like humanoid forms were periodically colliding with the exterior of the submersible, their impacts making sounds akin to stones thudding against a human skull. It was a spine-chillingly dull resonance, and Agatha found her grip tightening on the handrail in front of her involuntarily.

She felt the submersible tilt forward, the angle becoming so steep that it was difficult to stand without holding onto something.

Then, something suddenly came into her line of sight outside the porthole.

What appeared to be an endless, shifting expanse materialized at the fringes of the searchlight’s beam, filling the lower edge of the window.

It looked like… land.

“Is that the seafloor?” Agatha blurted out, incredulous and amazed. “Are we actually looking at the ocean floor?”

Duncan stared intently through the porthole, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the startling and tumultuous terrain that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the inky abyss. The jagged edges of what appeared to be a shoreline stretched out in front of them, and beyond that lay the blurry outlines of unidentifiable structures. After a prolonged moment of contemplation, he gently shook his head. “No, this isn’t the seafloor. We’re nowhere near what we’d traditionally call the ‘seafloor.’ What we’re seeing is a piece of land that is actually floating within the ocean.”

“A floating piece of land?” Agatha queried, her brow furrowing in disbelief.

“Another version of Frost,” Duncan answered softly. “Even though we can only see a small section of the shoreline, I recognize the distinctive landscape. This is Frost, but in its original, untamed state, devoid of ports, buildings, or any other man-made structures.”

At his words, a visible shiver coursed through Agatha’s body.

Duncan’s gaze then moved upward to the ocean surface above this “floating island” they had dubbed “Frost.” In that watery sky, countless humanoid figures floated, encircling the landmass like bees around their hive.

It was a haunting tableau as if they were witnessing a moment from the dawn of time, perfectly preserved deep within the ocean—a frozen snapshot of a bygone era seemingly suspended in time.

“What is this place?” Agatha asked, her voice breaking the stifling silence.

“It’s the original blueprint,” Duncan replied in a quiet, almost reverential tone.

He recalled the events of the Third Long Night when the so-called “King of Darkness” revealed the blueprint for creation to the collective and set in motion the genesis of their world. To sidestep the tragic fates that befell the Dream King and the Pale Giant King, he fragmented the blueprint, replacing a unified world with twelve hundred separate city-states.

Civilization had persevered past that dark epoch, giving rise to what they called the Deep Sea Era. Everything in this era had been built based on the “twelve hundred city-states” blueprint that the King of Darkness had gifted.

Certain aspects of this narrative, mentioned in a text they referred to as the “Book of Blasphemy,” had been corroborated.

But were there alternative interpretations or explanations?

Duncan fell into a contemplative silence, his thoughts swirling like a tempest. Agatha, meanwhile, had begun to grasp the implications of what Duncan called the “original blueprint.” Struggling with the sheer enormity of the revelation, she stammered, “Are you suggesting that Frost, its current inhabitants, and indeed, all the city-states and mortal beings in our world, might have originated from these… entities in the deep sea?”

“It’s a possibility,” Duncan answered. He shook his head softly and spoke with a voice that carried a profound weight. “The heretical writings of the Annihilation Cult provide details on the creation process attributed to the Nether Lord. Even though these theories are considered blasphemous, we can’t afford to dismiss the potential truths that these ancient texts may hold.”

Agatha tried to speak but found herself momentarily speechless.

Ever since they had ventured into these uncharted territories, her understanding of the world had been turned upside-down. Her mind was awash in a sea of questions, and even her steady resolve as a seasoned gatekeeper was shaken.

If the Annihilation Cult’s claims about the “Nether Lord creating the world” contained even an ounce of truth, then did that not mean that all beings in their mortal realm were, in essence, creations of this Nether Lord?

Even after surviving the existential crisis posed by the Mirror Frost incident and having fortified her convictions through extreme trials, Agatha still found it exceedingly challenging to assimilate this world-altering “possibility” into her understanding of reality.

Yet, despite the deep-seated contradictions and hesitations swirling in her mind, she didn’t entirely dismiss what she was seeing. She knew that when she made the decision to venture into the deep sea, she was stepping into a realm where the normal rules could be defied, and the impossible could become reality.

“Shall we go deeper?” she asked Duncan, forcing her voice to remain steady, striving to display a semblance of composure.

Duncan, however, didn’t reach for the submersible’s controls again. Instead, his eyes scanned the array of gauges and dials on the control panel as he focused intently on the sensory feedback from the vessel.

“We’ve reached the submarine’s operational limit,” he finally declared, “The hull can’t take any more pressure; it’s at its breaking point.”

“We were so close,” Agatha replied, her voice tinged with a sense of palpable regret and yearning. “We were almost at that floating island.”

“It’s okay; it’s only the submarine that has its limitations,” Duncan reassured her, shaking his head gently. His eyes returned to the porthole, transfixed on the scene unfolding outside. “There’s something else here that is far more resilient.”

Agatha looked at him, her eyes clouded with confusion.

Duncan, however, remained focused on the scene beyond the porthole. He continued to observe the floating humanoid entities that seemed to drift aimlessly in the pale light filtering through the water.

“You said earlier that in your perception, these ‘blank’ human forms emitted an aura, almost as if they were alive,” Duncan remarked as if speaking to both Agatha and himself.

Just then, one of the indistinct humanoid entities that had been floating outside the submarine slowly turned its nebulous head toward the porthole as if responding to Duncan’s words. Its gaze, if it could be called that, seemed to lock onto Agatha.