The sudden, piercing screams that erupted from the streets below had abruptly jolted Lucretia and Taran El from their tranquil moment. Almost in unison, their gazes pivoted towards the window, where the reassuring and brilliant rays of the “sun” continued to flow into the room. At first glance, everything about their surroundings seemed utterly normal, causing them to question the source of their startled reaction.
However, it didn’t take them long to discern that something was amiss. The “sunlight” streaming through the window was not quite the same as they were accustomed to, and the general light of day visible beyond the glass seemed notably diminished. A hint of suspicion flashed across Lucretia’s eyes, and in the blink of an eye, she transformed into a myriad of twirling, colorful paper fragments that whirled out of the window. These fragments swirled upwards in a cyclonic manner, their goal being the rooftop high above.
Upon reaching the rooftop, the fragments merged to form the figure of the Sea Witch Lucretia once more. She tilted her gaze skyward, scrutinizing the sun, but was met with the disconcerting sight of an enormous dark orb suspended in the sky. The orb was encircled by a pair of runic rings that were emitting an intense golden light. The flickering illumination from these rings was inconsistent, giving the impression that they were an unreliable source, teetering on the brink of extinction at any given moment.
As this primary source of illumination slipped into darkness, the sun’s current luminosity was dependent entirely upon the two unstable runic circles. Theoretically, the entire city-state should have been engulfed in near-total darkness by now. Yet, to their surprise, Wind Harbor was still basking in sunlight.
This mysterious light was coming from the direction of the sea. Over the water, a glowing geometric structure, roughly the size of a minor hill, hovered serenely just above the surface. The gentle golden “sunlight” radiating from this peculiar formation had been preventing the city from being swallowed by darkness.
Suddenly, the sounds of fabric scraping against building walls and ragged, heavy breaths reached Lucretia’s keen ears. She glanced down to spot a middle-aged elf, his golden hair in a disheveled state, making a laborious attempt to ascend the drainpipe. Despite being hampered by the afflictions of a century-old shoulder arthritis and cervical spondylosis, Master Taran El had managed to make his way to the roof. This certainly demonstrated the impressive resilience innate to the elf kind.
“Huff… huff… Miss Lucretia, you were correct… huff… I might need to include physical exercise in my routine. Simply relying on a nutritious diet isn’t… huff… enough to ensure vitality…”
“I question your commitment to a healthy diet – your focus on food seems more aimed at mere survival,” retorted Lucretia, her tone emotionless, her gaze still fixed on the ominous dark sphere in the distant sky. “But let’s shift our attention back to the sky. That’s where our immediate concern lies.”
Having recovered his breath, Taran El raised his gaze to observe the same ominous view. Illuminated by the soft, muted golden light that radiated from the sea, the dark sphere suspended high in the sky took on a deeply threatening aura. After the ancient sun had disappeared from this world, Vision 001 had been the guardian of this realm for over ten thousand years. Now, it had become dark and presented a fearsome spectacle. It bore an uncanny resemblance to a terrifying abyss signifying the end of existence or a decaying, dying eye that silently scrutinized the world from its lofty position.
“It appears we find ourselves in a serious predicament,” Taran El finally vocalized his thoughts. His eyes, reddened from many late-night study sessions, squinted, attempting to pick out further details on the surface of the ominous sphere.
“Indeed, the gravest of predicaments… Yet, the protectors of the city-state have already sprung into action to maintain order. It seems their rigorous mechanized training is bearing fruit,” Lucretia commented, her gaze now directed towards the streets below. She noticed that steam walkers and tactical teams, donning the emblems of the Truth Academy, had already begun to assemble at various crossroads. Terrified civilians were being directed, striving to regain their composure amidst the chaos, but the pandemonium in the neighborhoods continued unabated.
Furthermore, the future trajectory of the situation remained shrouded in uncertainty. Everyone in this world had been conditioned to anticipate “unusual disasters”, but the impact of the “sun going out” on the general populace evidently surpassed all drills and emergency plans.
“I need to return to the Bright Star to assess the situation,” Lucretia abruptly announced, tearing her gaze away from the neighborhood below. Her voice was swift and resolute as she addressed Taran El, “The ship is near the ‘fallen light body’; it may be able to gather useful information.”
Taran El parted his lips to respond, but before any words could escape, the “Sea Witch” before him had already fragmented into countless vibrant paper shards, swirling off the rooftop and heading towards the distant harbor.
Left alone on the rooftop was the Elven scholar, taken aback by the swift departure. He cast a glance at the challenging route he had just ascended, a hint of frustration crossing his features.
“Could’ve at least returned me to the ground…” he grumbled to himself. Sighing, he gingerly stood and prepared to descend back to the second-floor balcony via the same drainpipe. However, as he did so, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. It was a neighboring structure – the “Cloud Tower” belonging to the city-state university. As property of the Truth Academy, it was widely known among elves as the “tall tower”.
The apex of that tower was outfitted with an assortment of observational equipment. These devices were primarily used to track weather patterns and scrutinize the vast expanse of the sky. Additionally, the tower was equipped with specialized filters and a telescopic assembly that facilitated the study of celestial bodies such as the sun.
“Staring directly at the sun during such a time… might not be the wisest choice,” the Elven scholar murmured to himself. Almost instinctively, he reached into his belongings and pulled out a charm. This trinket, which bore the symbol of Lahem, the god of wisdom, was then placed on his forehead as he offered a short prayer seeking protection from his impending foolish act.
“Well, now I’m a fool,” Taran El declared aloud, tucking the charm back into his pocket. He drew a deep breath and swiftly calculated the distance and positions of several neighboring rooftops. Selecting the one that appeared the most accessible and closest, he charged towards it and launched himself into the air with a powerful leap.
As he momentarily defied gravity, the wind rustling past his cheeks and his body soaring over the rooftop, a crucial question suddenly invaded the scholar’s mind — “Why didn’t I summon my students for help instead of jumping?”
…
The extinguished monolithic sphere remained suspended in the sky like an intimidating void, motionless since it had darkened. The twin structures of runic rings surrounding the sphere were the sole sources of residual “twilight.”
Considering the sun’s extinguishment, the twin rings of light appeared somewhat dazzling to the eye.
However, that “dazzling” light barely managed to mitigate the encompassing darkness that had descended upon the mortal realm.
Duncan had stepped onto the deck following the darkening. His face bore an unmistakable expression of grave concern as he wordlessly gazed up at the inky-black sphere.
Everyone had emerged from their quarters as well to assemble on the deck: Vanna was softly uttering prayers, Morris had his eyebrows deeply furrowed, Shirley was seeking refuge behind Duncan while tightly holding onto Dog, Nina was clinging to Duncan’s arm, her face a mask of worry and panic.
However, contrary to everyone’s heavy mood, Alice displayed remarkable “composure” at this moment. She merely rested her head on one hand, peering curiously at the extinguished sun as if she had just noticed something new and odd, exhibiting no signs of fear whatsoever.
Due to her lack of conventional wisdom, she seemed unable to fully grasp the gravity of the current situation.
Suddenly, a shifting shadow materialized in the air near Duncan, rapidly expanding and forming into the figure of Agatha.
“What’s the status of the ship and our immediate vicinity?” Duncan asked.
“All spare rooms on the ship are in good shape. I’ve also inspected the waters surrounding the Vanished within the spirit realm, and everything appears normal there as well,” Agatha reported.
Duncan responded to this with a slight nod of approval, glad to hear there were no unforeseen issues on the ship.
As a spirit projection, Agatha could traverse through the mirror world and swiftly scan every room on the Vanished. Simultaneously, her “eyes” that could peer into the spirit world were always monitoring the status of the “deeper world” encircling the Vanished.
In fact, most of the time, the information she “observed” through her spiritual sight was even more comprehensive than what Duncan could sense through his own faculties.
“Captain,” Shirley peered up at Duncan, holding Dog’s head in her arms. The usually cheerful countenance of the gothic girl was now filled with a mixture of fear and panic.
“What’s happening… Is this the occurrence you cautioned us about earlier?”
Instead of replying immediately to Shirley’s inquiry, Duncan fixed his gaze on the sky with a furrowed brow. After a considerable pause, he murmured as if to himself, “The World’s Creation hasn’t manifested yet?”
“The World’s Creation?” Morris, who was standing nearby, appeared startled by this remark. He quickly recovered and glanced up at the sky, “Indeed, the World’s Creation remains concealed, which suggests…”
“The sun continues to exert influence,” Duncan nodded slightly,
“Its ‘illuminating’ function has been mysteriously deactivated, yet it still suppresses the World’s Creation.”
“Will the sun reignite?” Alice suddenly swiveled her head and asked, brimming with curiosity.
While Duncan was unable to provide a definitive answer, he nodded subtly, “It should. This colossal construct has been functioning reliably for ten thousand years. Even if a malfunction occurred, it wouldn’t suddenly break down entirely, at least… not today.”
Upon hearing his reassuring words, Alice beamed, “Oh, that’s good, I haven’t aired out my quilt yet.”
Taken aback by the carefree remark of this nonchalant puppet, Duncan couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. He then lowered his gaze and tousled Nina’s hair.
Nina lifted her head, her eyes flickering with golden flames. A celestial radiance was kindling within these flames, and she nodded in understanding. Subsequently, she released her grip on Duncan’s arm and transformed into a dazzling display of luminosity.
In the blink of an eye, Nina had morphed into a fiery arc. This miniature sun orbited Duncan a few times, lightly hopped onto the mast, soared skyward, and finally came to rest while stably hovering dozens of meters overhead.
Although Nina wasn’t as far-reaching as Vision 001, she provided ample warmth and a sense of security for those bathed in its light.
Witnessing this, Duncan released a sigh of relief. He understood that light was the most effective means of soothing people’s hearts under these circumstances, “Alright, I should now go and assess the situation in other locations.”
