Deep below the surface of Frost’s southern port, a hidden facility continued its operations. All non-essential staff had already been evacuated to safety, leaving only Agatha and Tyrian in the vast, empty space, patiently awaiting Duncan’s arrival.
Behind them stood a massive machine, a well-kept secret of the city’s former government. The apparatus was enormous, designed to withstand extreme pressure and shaped like an egg. It was anchored securely between thick steel beams using strong cables. An overhead light cast a subdued, icy glow onto the submarine’s metallic exterior, giving it an almost ethereal presence.
The atmosphere in the cavernous hall was thick with uneasy silence. Just as the tension seemed unbearable, Agatha shattered the quiet with her voice. “He’s here,” she announced.
As she spoke, her arms stretched out wide. Bright green flames erupted from the scars that disfigured her body as if she were reaching out to embrace the sun. A green fire materialized in front of her and quickly transformed into a spinning vortex. From this fiery gateway, a skeletal bird named Ai flew out, followed by a robust figure covered in a black coat and adorned with bandages.
Acknowledging the new arrival, Tyrian bowed his head slightly and stepped out of the way. “Father,” he said respectfully.
Agatha’s flames dissipated, and she clasped her hands together in a prayerful gesture, bowing her head humbly. “We apologize for summoning you here,” she added softly.
Dismissing her concern with a wave of his hand, Duncan’s eyes were already locked onto the massive machine that dominated the room. “Receiving reports can’t compare to a personal visit. So this is the machine, then?”
“Yes,” Agatha confirmed, giving a subtle nod. “It is Governor Winston’s legacy, although it could be the result of the efforts of previous governors as well. Our latest checks indicate that the submarine is almost ready for deployment and in excellent condition.”
Duncan responded with a non-committal hum but said nothing more. He stood silently, his eyes studying the enormous relic as if he were gazing upon a piece of history that was uniquely a part of Frost.
The submarine seemed to encapsulate lost hopes and individual struggles long buried by the passage of time. Bathed in the soft lighting of this nearly forgotten chamber, it was as if the bravery and anxieties of countless humans had been frozen into this massive steel creation.
Duncan felt as if he could almost hear the tales of grit and rebellion that seemed to resonate within the metallic shell of the submarine. He walked over to the railing and reached out to touch its cold, solid surface. A subtle pulse reverberated through his otherwise emotionless body, sparking a fleeting sense of recognition. He mentally traced this feeling back through the labyrinth of his memories, connecting it to a time when a radiant Nina embraced her uncle with open arms. Then, the same sensation re-emerged when he discovered the silver brooch on the Vanished and heard the name “Lucretia” mentioned by others. These shards of past affection and memory seemed to rattle within him, refusing to be entirely forgotten.
Finally, Duncan pulled his hand back, his eyes falling thoughtfully onto his own palm. For a moment, he appeared to be scrutinizing the man who once owned this body. After a deep and significant pause, he softly murmured, “Ah, you would know this…”
“Father?” Tyrian’s voice punctuated the still air like a sharp knife. “What did you say?”
“Nothing of consequence,” Duncan replied, his gaze shifting away from the submarine to meet Tyrian’s eyes. “Is this submarine in operational condition?”
Tyrian hesitated for a moment, grappling with his internal uncertainty before speaking. “We’ve conducted a comprehensive assessment of the facility and the submarine. The overall structure is in good shape. However, we are facing two main challenges. First, the original team of engineers and technicians who maintained this facility is no longer available. Consequently, some of the machinery and documentation have been damaged or lost. But this is manageable—our experienced crew from the Mist Fleet should be able to handle it, especially since the design is based on the Frost Queen’s blueprints.”
Pausing for breath and to choose his words with care, he continued, “The second challenge is more complex. The submarine’s design is significantly different from its predecessors. Rather than relying on air pumps from the surface, it was designed to utilize integrated oxygen cylinders. Unfortunately, we’ve only located the slots where these cylinders are supposed to go, but the actual cylinders themselves are missing. Presumably, they were never manufactured. This is why Lady Agatha mentioned earlier that the submarine is ‘nearly complete.’ Creating a compatible oxygen supply system from scratch will take time.”
Duncan listened intently, his eyes never wavering from Tyrian’s face.
Sensing his father’s unwavering attention, Tyrian hesitated. “Father?”
“I have no need to breathe,” Duncan said, his tone flat and unemotional. “Are there any other concerns you would like to address?”
Caught off guard, Tyrian was momentarily speechless. Then, the implications of what his father had just said dawned on him. His eyes widened briefly before he composed himself, nodding hurriedly. “Ah, then… it would seem there are no further issues to discuss…”
“Many in the Mist Fleet also have no need to breathe. Your focus on this detail suggests you’re a bit disoriented by recent events,” Duncan observed, shaking his head lightly. “Since there are no significant barriers, make sure the submarine is prepared for operation as soon as possible. That is my primary concern here in Frost.”
On hearing his father’s command, Tyrian’s posture stiffened instinctively. Although it had been a century since he last received orders from his father, the reflex to obey was still strong. “Yes, Father!” he said, before hurrying off to oversee the necessary preparations.
Duncan’s eyes returned to the imposing submarine, studying its intricacies. Then his gaze shifted to Agatha, who still stood at her original position but looked somewhat… hesitant.
“Speak your mind, Agatha,” he said softly yet firmly. “We’re alone here. What’s troubling you?”
Caught off guard, Agatha quickly regained her composure. “You noticed?”
“Your flame casts two shadows, even though one is trying to blend in. But remember, the flame you carry was created by me, which makes hiding in its light somewhat ineffective,” Duncan’s eyes softened as he continued, “I noticed when I first arrived but didn’t press the issue since you seemed reluctant to discuss it.”
“I thought it was best to keep this matter hidden from Admiral Tyrian for the time being,” Agatha said, stepping aside to reveal that her shadow remained stationary, independent of her movements.
Her shadow, it seemed, had a will of its own.
In the next moment, the stationary shadow began to quiver and transform. Emerging from it was a slightly distorted figure that bore some resemblance to the gatekeeper. The figure offered a subtle bow before speaking in a voice eerily reminiscent of Agatha’s husky timbre, “It’s an honor to meet you, Captain Duncan.”
“Interesting. I believe this is our first introduction,” Duncan responded, his eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on the wavering apparition. After examining it briefly, he directed his attention back to Agatha. “Has she always been this… indistinct?”
“In a mirror, she appears clearly,” Agatha quickly replied. “Moreover, our observations have led us to believe that her form becomes increasingly blurred when she experiences anxiety. The more nervous she is, the less solid she appears. Right now, she seems to be a bit unsettled in your presence.”
“Intriguing,” Duncan murmured, clearly fascinated. He turned his gaze back to the enigmatic shadow. “Earlier, I was under the impression that you had dispersed into oblivion when Agatha absorbed the residual memories you left behind.”
“I did disperse, initially,” the shadowy figure spoke in its soft, echoing voice. “However, I somehow managed to find my way back into this world. I’m afraid I can’t explain how exactly that happened. By the time I regained consciousness, I was but a reflection in a mirror.”
Agatha promptly added, “We suspect that this resurrection may be related to ‘the key,’ although we don’t have concrete evidence to support that theory.”
“The key? You mean the brass key?” Duncan clarified.
“Exactly,” Agatha nodded. “From what she recalls, her reappearance coincided with my acquisition of the brass key. This suggests that the key may have properties that extend beyond mere informational storage. It could also serve as a repository for memories, personalities, or even souls. Given the right circumstances, these stored elements could possibly be ‘reconstructed.'”
Duncan remained silent, carefully processing this revelation.
The very key they were discussing, bestowed by the late Frost Queen Ray Nora, was currently in the possession of his ‘original body’ aboard the Vanished. He had resisted the urge to use that key on Alice due to an instinctual caution. Now, it appeared that his caution might have been warranted.
When Agatha had come into possession of the brass key, this “duplicate Agatha,” who had once interacted with the key, had been reconstituted. This led him to wonder: what would happen if the key were used on Alice? Could it unlock dormant memories or even the dormant soul of the late Frost Queen?
Generations of Frost governors had been subtly influenced by this brass key. They inadvertently stumbled upon truths regarding the Abyss Project, unintentionally took on the legacy of the Frost Queen, and even fell under the sway of her will. This influence was often crudely deemed the “curse of the Frost Queen.” But given the recent events involving Agatha and her shadowy doppelganger, Duncan began to ponder the deeper, more unsettling implications of the key.
If Alice, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Frost Queen, was indeed the vessel while the brass key acted as the keeper of the soul, then together they could potentially resurrect the Frost Queen. A deep sigh emanated from within him, silent but weighty.
Duncan now understood why Agatha had chosen to withhold this hypothesis from Tyrian. But as he stood there contemplating, a nagging unease began to creep into his thoughts.
Could it really be that simple? Could Alice, who seemed little more than a puppet, and the brass key—which could be a vessel for the soul—actually serve as the means to bring the Frost Queen back to life? Was the equation truly that straightforward? The possibilities stretched before him, complex and fraught with unforeseen ramifications.
