The clockwork marionette, known as Luni, cast a worried glance at Duncan. He had become distant, lost in his own thoughts so suddenly that it was hard not to notice. Concern etched into her features, and after a brief hesitation, she felt compelled to seek understanding from Alice, who was right beside her. “What seems to be troubling the old master?” she inquired, her voice tinged with unease.
Alice, on the other hand, maintained a calm demeanor, seemingly unfazed by Duncan’s distant gaze. She offered a comforting response to Luni, “Don’t worry, he’s merely caught up in his thoughts. It’s not uncommon for the captain to become preoccupied this way…”
Luni found this surprising, “Really?” she asked, a hint of doubt in her voice.
Their exchange of words managed to pierce the bubble of Duncan’s reverie, pulling him back to the present. He blinked, his focus gradually shifting from the depths of his memories to the reality that surrounded him.
A heavy silence fell upon the group before Duncan, attempting to regain his composure, lifted his hand to the bridge of his nose, pressing gently. His eyes, partially closed, concealed the storm of emotions raging within him. He was overwhelmed by a desire to sift through every memory from his childhood, to lay out each moment of his past before his eyes, yet he realized the necessity of leaving these chaotic thoughts behind to face the present.
Awareness of the parts of his past he had always chosen to ignore slowly crept into his consciousness. Yet, he understood the importance of escaping these ensnaring memories to address the immediate reality.
Raising his head, Duncan’s eyes met Alice’s steady gaze and Luni’s still concerned expression. “I’m fine,” he reassured them softly, “just caught up in some memories…”
After a pause, his gaze still locked with Alice’s, he ventured a question, “Where did we leave off?”
Alice responded promptly, detailing their prior discussion about how Luni and herself might have been excluded from the Nameless One’s Dream because ‘puppets don’t dream,’ and pondering why Duncan was also left in the real world.
“It’s not just about not dreaming,” Duncan mused aloud, his thoughts turning intricate. “The workings of the Nameless One’s Dream are far from simple, and they’re probably evolving…”
As Duncan spoke, his mind wandered back to a memory of the scholar Taran El, who had once found himself ensnared in the very same dream.
It was clear to Duncan that Taran El had been caught within the “Nameless One’s Dream,” but this experience belonged to the dream’s initial layer when the Nameless One’s Dream was still in its budding stages. Back then, Duncan could enter the dream with relative ease, thanks to a mark he had left on Heidi. This was no longer the case; now, he found himself barred from entry, stranded in reality.
This realization led Duncan to contemplate the evolving “rules” of the Nameless One’s Dream. Over time, its reach and influence had widened, and it had developed mechanisms to filter who could enter the dream, acting as a form of self-preservation.
What future developments lay in store for this expansive dream? Would its influence continue to grow? And how would its mechanisms of self-protection evolve?
As Duncan was lost in thought, Alice’s voice cut through his reverie with a question that brought him back to the present. “Captain, how are the others doing? Can you feel them?”
Shifting his focus from the maze of his thoughts, Duncan took a moment to inhale deeply, then concentrated on the spiritual connections he had established with others—a network of ethereal “marks” he had left on his comrades.
He envisioned the marks as flames dancing across the boundary between the tangible world and the intangible realm of dreams, traversing an ancient and mystical divide. In this remote dimension where the concepts of time and space meld in indescribable ways, Duncan could perceive the faint glimmer of those he had marked.
The connections, symbolized by these flame marks, had been successful to a degree. Although not all connections were equally strengthened, Duncan found himself now able to sense Vanna and the others’ conditions with much clearer insight. He even possessed the capacity to communicate with them should the need arise.
Reassuringly, he responded to Alice and Luni, “They’re not in danger.”
Upon hearing this, Alice’s tension visibly dissipated: “Ah, that’s good… What should we do next?”
Duncan’s gaze drifted to the window, observing the streets caught in the tumultuous embrace of the night. Outside, the fabric of reality seemed to meld with the encroaching Nameless One’s Dream, transforming the urban landscape back into a dense, forest-covered city-state. Underneath the canopy of giant trees that blotted out the sky, the city lay shrouded in shadows, an amalgamation of reality and illusion.
The port of Wind Harbor had fallen silent, overtaken by the dreamworld, precisely as Duncan had predicted. Despite the city-state authorities and academy guardians’ efforts, their preparations had proven ineffective. Now, in this dream-laden city, the only ones awake seemed to be Duncan, Alice, and now, an additional clockwork companion.
“We should head to the location of the previous vine encounter,” Duncan suggested with a calm demeanor, moving toward the mansion’s main entrance. “Let’s see if it manifests in the same place again.”
“Okay!” Alice eagerly agreed, then took Luni’s hand, who appeared somewhat bewildered, “Come on, let’s go on an adventure with the captain!”
“Adventure?” Luni echoed, trailing behind Alice and Duncan, clearly feeling a bit out of her element, “What are we setting out to do?”
“We’re going in search of another Vanished,” Duncan explained, slowing his pace slightly to address the question. He was intent on exploring the Nameless One’s Dream resurgence in the real world, eager to test various hypotheses he had formed. The “enhanced temporary marks” he had placed on Vanna and Morris, among others, were designed to solidify his connection to his allies. However, Duncan was more intrigued by the possibility of encountering the mysterious Vanished that navigated through the shadows and mist.
Regardless of how the Nameless One’s Dream might evolve, Duncan was determined to find a way around its “self-protection mechanism” to more effectively influence this expansive dream. He had a strong hunch that the Vanished could offer the most likely avenue to circumvent the safeguards.
As the makeshift map etched upon the vessel suggested, it was traversing the treetops of the dream forest, floating above an imaginary landscape.
Under a night sky that seemed to be stitched together from strands of sunlight and the very essence of creation itself, the city’s once bustling streets lay in an unsettling silence. Duncan, accompanied by the two mechanical figures, ventured out from the quietude of the witch’s abandoned abode, stepping into a world where the urban sprawl fused seamlessly with the encroaching wilderness.
Venturing into the night, Duncan also initiated a tentative outreach through the spiritual connections he had established, those “temporary marks” that had found their way into the dream’s other realm. He aimed to make contact with his followers, treading with caution this time. He was determined to learn from his previous encounter in that shadowy, mist-enshrouded space—to use the elemental power of fire judiciously and avoid inadvertently stirring the slumbering leviathan of the dream, Atlantis.
…
A menacing rift of dark red tore through the sky, its edges bleeding into the surrounding clouds, painting them in swirls of distortion. Below this celestial anomaly stretched a landscape dominated by sand and monolithic stones.
Endless dunes dominated the horizon, interspersed with jagged stones that stood as if they were the petrified remains of colossal beasts, their bones twisted in eternal struggle. The sands seemed to claw at the bases of these stone monoliths, their sharp protrusions reaching skyward like swords. In the vastness of this desert, the scale of human presence dwindled to insignificance.
Vanna stood against the backdrop of this desolate expanse, her silver-white hair whipped by the relentless wind. The dry breeze, laden with sand, grazed her skin, prompting her to narrow her eyes against the abrasive assault.
She had found herself once again in this vast, lifeless desert.
Her gaze swept across the distant, indistinct silhouettes of what seemed like colossal stones or perhaps the ruins of an ancient city. Drawing a deep breath, Vanna extended her hand into the wind. Defying the arid logic of the desert, a mist of water vapor coalesced from the sandy gusts, crystallizing in her grasp into a sword shimmering with cold.
The weight of the newly formed blade was a reassuring presence in her hand. Despite the harsh, dry conditions of this dream-induced desert, Vanna’s allegiance to the storm goddess ensured her divine powers remained unaffected. The dream could not dampen her sacred abilities, granting her a measure of ease as she traversed this unwelcoming terrain.
Coolness emanated from the blade, offering Vanna a sliver of comfort as she set off, her steps measured against the wind-driven sands. She was not wandering without purpose; her eyes were fixed on a distant objective, the vague forms that could be either natural formations or the remnants of a forgotten civilization.
Mid-stride, a sudden intuition caused Vanna to halt. She focused, tuning into a faint voice that resonated within the depths of her consciousness. Within moments, the voice grew clearer—it was unmistakably that of the captain.
“Vanna, can you hear me?” Duncan’s reassuring and authoritative voice resonated within Vanna’s mind, breaking through the silence.
Without hesitation, Vanna responded inwardly, a wave of relief washing over her as she exhaled, “Yes,” she thought back, her relief palpable, “That’s wonderful. It appears your plan was successful.”
Duncan’s voice, steady and thoughtful, came through once again, “Indeed, as I anticipated. I’m proceeding with caution in making contact with you, ensuring not to channel too much energy at once. Given what happened previously, it seems the entity residing deep within the Nameless One’s Dream—Atlantis—is not particularly welcoming of my fiery essence.”
“I understand,” Vanna acknowledged, resuming her trek across the desolate landscape as she conversed, “How are the rest faring?”
Duncan provided an update on their companions’ whereabouts, “The others are dispersed throughout the forest, maintaining similar group dynamics as before. Shirley and Dog are together, while Nina and Morris have paired up,” he shared, adding, “After entering the dream, Lucy was able to reunite with Rabbi; their points of ‘arrival’ were nearly identical.”
Vanna paused, processing this information, “Lucretia ended up with that unique rabbit? Their arrival points were the same? And the others’ groupings have remained consistent as previously observed?” She stopped in her tracks, mulling over these revelations, “This indicates there might indeed be a pattern to how we enter this dream.”
“It appears so. Their entry points into the forest seem consistent with our last experience,” Duncan noted, then inquired about Vanna’s own situation, “What’s happening on your end?”
Vanna came to a standstill, her eyes scanning the vast expanse of desert that stretched before her.
After a brief moment of reflection, she let out a sigh.
“Sand, stones, and the sweltering heat—it seems the ‘locations’ where we enter the Nameless One’s Dream remain largely unchanged. I’m still stranded in this desert. Frankly, this place doesn’t exactly endear itself to me…”
