The sun had once more ignited its warming, life-giving light after an extended period of twelve hours of cold darkness.
The inhabitants of cities such as Pland, Frost, and Wind Harbor, who had witnessed the shocking dimming of the sun, now observed Vision 001 restoring itself to its original splendor. However, the distress stirred by the inexplicable event could not be effortlessly dispelled. The citizens of these city-states remained apprehensive, and the scholarly and religious communities watched the reignited sun with the same bewilderment and tension as when they had seen it dim, and city administrators were fervently attempting to ascertain the status in neighboring urban centers. Everyone was frantic to understand—what on earth had occurred?
Colorful scraps of paper danced on the currents of the wind, drifting over the deck, meandering through windows, and finally descending into the captain’s quarters, where Lucretia materialized from the paper fragments. With measured steps, she moved towards her crystal ball, activating it and anxiously anticipating the response from the other end.
Upon the appearance of Tyrian’s image, she hastened to inquire, “The sun has reignited here. What’s the situation on your end?”
“With us too, the same sun is shining in the sky, at least for now,” Tyrian replied. His eyes reflected an unmistakable weariness, but he seemed to be maintaining his composure. “I might need some time to calm the city-state’s mood. Everyone is currently in dread, speculating whether the sky will plunge into darkness once again…”
“The sun, an amulet of safety, faithfully shelters our day, keeping time in perfect rhythm. Hence, if it extinguishes even once, the fundamental and robust ‘sense of security’ embedded in everyone’s psyche suffers a severe blow,” Lucretia sighed, reflecting on the situation at hand. “No one is spared from this concern, not even myself.”
“Did you manage to obtain any relevant data during the sun’s extinction?” Tyrian asked, “You have a myriad of devices at your disposal…”
Lucretia immediately affirmed, “Yes, after the sun was extinguished, a set of observational equipment I installed on the Bright Star detected peculiar signals radiating from that ‘luminous geometric body’. Once I’ve sorted out the data, I’ll forward you a copy. In the meantime, you should check whether the scholars in Frost have uncovered any leads about the situation. I need to make another visit to Wind Harbor to see if the Truth Academy’s monitoring devices have identified anything noteworthy…”
“Understood. I’ll be awaiting your update,” Tyrian acknowledged with a nod.
“And how is our father? He was out at sea when the sun disappeared,” Lucretia inquires, her voice wavering slightly with the unease that she had been trying to conceal.
“He and I maintained contact throughout the event. The Vanished is doing well, surprisingly… perhaps even better off than those in the city,” Tyrian admits, exhaling deeply in apparent relief, “I’ll touch base with him again later, so try not to worry. Should anything seem out of the ordinary… I promise, I’ll inform you right away.”
Relieved by Tyrian’s assurances, Lucretia responds with a subdued nod before bidding her elder brother goodbye. She waves her hand nonchalantly, deactivating the crystal orb that lay on the table in front of her.
…
Elsewhere, aboard the ship known as the Vanished, Duncan finds himself in the captain’s quarters facing Lawrence from the White Oak through the oval mirror, “The waters surrounding the White Oak have calmed and returned to their usual state. The prior unsettling occurrences have not recurred. It appears that with the reignition of the sun, things are gradually falling back into their normal rhythm…”
“And what about your navigational status?” Duncan questions.
“The ‘stars’ have reappeared in our observation room,” Lawrence responds promptly, nodding his affirmation, “However, the spirit lens will need a bit of time to recalibrate. Based on preliminary estimates, the White Oak hasn’t strayed significantly from its intended course.”
“Good. Ensure you keep me informed should there be any changes in the circumstances.”
As their conversation concludes, the spectral flame flickering at the edge of the mirror begins to wane until it eventually extinguishes, causing the image of Lawrence within the mirror to fade away. Duncan continues to stand before the now-normal mirror, his brow furrowed as he contemplates the recent events.
The sun had reignited, and the current situation was not vastly different from what he had anticipated. Although Vision 001 had experienced a malfunction, this colossal, antiquated “device” would not entirely crumble in an instant. It might endure for an extended period, persisting through successive malfunctions and restorations. Today’s blackout was fleeting, but conversely, its reignition was also temporary.
But at this particular moment, Duncan was more preoccupied with the mysterious phenomena that had transpired after the sun’s disappearance than the temporary eclipse itself.
The first peculiar incident involved the disruption in communications within the city-states, except for Pland, Wind Harbor, and Frost.
If all communication across the Boundless Sea had indeed been severed, it wouldn’t have been as disconcerting. But the fact that three city-states remained unaffected was perplexing. If Pland and Frost were special because they had become “visions”, then what was the exception with Wind Harbor?
The second peculiar incident was even more mystifying than the “communication interruption” — what was this “boundary” that the White Oak had observed?
Ordinarily, bundles of burning cloth tossed overboard from the ship should drift away, heading opposite the ship’s trajectory due to the ship’s movement. However, when the sun had vanished, these bundles bizarrely halted near a certain “boundary” after drifting only a few hundred meters…
According to Lawrence’s most recent report, this uncanny spectacle had ceased with the sun’s reignition — the ‘mummified’ sailor had executed several tests to verify this.
Duncan’s forehead creased into a deep frown over the details.
The strange occurrence observed by the White Oak was relatively minor in scale. When compared to the comprehensive “disconnection” of all city-states across the Boundless Sea, this “boundary” seemed to exist solely within the vicinity of their ship. Yet, the implications concealed behind this vision appeared to vastly exceed any conceivable expectations.
Duncan had the creeping suspicion that he might have stumbled upon a crucial “secret” lurking within this Boundless Sea. It seemed as though the “true nature” of the entire world was veiled within the mysterious twelve hours after the sun’s disappearance.
But then his musings were abruptly interrupted by a call from a distance.
Duncan swiftly refocused, casting his eyes over the mirror in front of him.
In the following moment, the ethereal, transparent spirit flame once again enshrouded the mirror. The mirror’s depth swiftly plunged into darkness, with the figure of Tyrian materializing within.
“Father, on your end…”
“Everything’s under control here. The sun has returned, hasn’t it?” Duncan preempted, asking, “And what about the state of affairs in Frost?”
“Everything’s under control in Frost as well,” Tyrian immediately responded, “Having your ‘watch’ over the cemetery has significantly eased the burden on the church and city hall – order has been reestablished throughout the city. However, it’s likely to take some time to alleviate the public’s fear. I’ll be convening a meeting later to discuss how to best explain the sun’s disappearance to our citizens…”
As Tyrian spoke, Duncan noticed that the guy seemed to be scrutinizing him subtly, as if… meticulously gauging his reaction.
He immediately discerned the reason behind this.
“Don’t fret, I’m still me, I haven’t been replaced by something from subspace due to the temporary extinguishing of the sun,” Duncan retorted with a light-hearted chuckle, maintaining a tranquil facade as he spoke his truth, “If you’re still unconvinced, you could visit the cemetery and confirm with my ‘avatar’?”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply anything!” Tyrian hastily clarified, “It’s just… Lucretia expressed some concern about you…”
“I understand,” Duncan interrupted, waving his hand dismissively, “But rest assured, my mental state is perfectly stable. Instead of concerning yourself with my well-being, let’s discuss the situation in the city. Has communication been restored with the other city-states?”
“We’ve regained signal reception from Cold Harbor, and telepathic communications with other distant city-states have also been reestablished,” Tyrian confirmed with a nod, “I’ve organized teams to gather information about the situations in various city-states, we should have more news soon…”
He unexpectedly halted mid-sentence, his attention suddenly shifting elsewhere. It appears someone had entered the dome office and was relaying some information to him.
In response, Duncan refrained from speaking and swiftly retreated his ‘presence,’ discreetly severing the mirror connection — a measure taken to prevent alarming the ‘ordinary person’ on the other side.
After a few minutes, the flame bordering the mirror flickered back to life. Duncan heard Tyrian’s call and refocused his attention onto the mirror.
Tyrian’s figure once again materialized, his face now exhibiting a palpable surprise.
Noting the change in his son’s demeanor, Duncan’s eyebrows knitted together in mild concern: “What’s happened?”
“We… just made contact with Cold Harbor and inquired about the circumstances within their city-state during the sun’s disappearance,” Tyrian began with evident hesitation as if grappling with how to articulate his next words, “and they responded with utter astonishment — they had no knowledge whatsoever of the sun’s disappearance!”
Duncan’s expression instantly hardened.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, a realization seemed to strike him. He shattered the silence with a voice thick with gravity, “Clarify, did Cold Harbor simply not observe the vision of the sun’s disappearance, or did they not experience those twelve hours altogether?”
His question caused Tyrian to pause, the implication behind his father’s words swiftly sinking in.
“You’re implying…”
“Verify it again, determine if Cold Harbor has any records of disrupted communication with Frost. If, from their perspective, the world remained unaltered and communications with Frost never experienced any interruption… then this situation is far more complex than we initially assumed.”
“Yes, I’ll immediately seek confirmation,” Tyrian responded promptly, “and I’ll scrutinize the other city-states in the same manner!”
Duncan issued a nod of approval, dismissing the hovering flames surrounding the mirror. But just as he began to mull over this unexpected development, an alarmed outcry from the goat head echoed from a distance, “Captain! Something’s not right! Come have a look at the sea chart!”
Sea chart?
Confused, Duncan swiftly spun around and moved towards the navigation table, his eyes scanning the uncanny sea chart shrouded in fog.
In the next instant, he observed the projection of the Vanished represented on the sea map and… the indicator of a city-state that was gradually becoming discernible beside this projection.
“Are we… in close proximity to Wind Harbor?”
