Shirley found herself on a journey once more, heading towards the mythical place known as the “Silent Wall”. This time, she was not alone; she was accompanied by Lucretia, and they were both being led by an elf girl known as “Shireen” to them.
The trio navigated their way through an enchanting forest, where dappled sunlight played hide and seek with the shadows on the ground. They treaded on pathways covered with a carpet of dried leaves and broken twigs, occasionally bypassing dense thickets and underbrush. From the forest’s depth, mysterious sounds of unknown animals and birds occasionally rang out, reinforcing the eerie feeling of isolation and the chill in the air.
As Shirley walked behind “Shireen”, she was gripped by a strong sense of déjà vu. It was as if she was reliving a moment from the past, trekking once more through the forest following the same elf guide as she had done previously. Everything around her felt eerily familiar. The ageless appearance of the forest, the consistent ambient sounds, and even the elf, “Shireen”, who looked exactly as she did the last time, all seemed unchanged.
Yet, there was one distinct difference this time around. Every so often, the witch accompanying them would momentarily morph into fragments of colorful paper, a stark reminder to Shirley that circumstances had indeed shifted.
When “Shireen” wasn’t looking, Shirley confided in Lucretia, recounting past events and her previous interactions with everyone else ensnared in this shared dream using the bonding fire Duncan had prepared ahead of time.
Upon hearing the tale about another version of “Shireen”, Lucretia’s eyes, when looking at the elf guide, seemed to reflect a gamut of emotions.
Shirley remembered that during their previous journey, “Shireen” had transformed into a tree. And just before that transformation was complete, the elf seemed desperate to relay some vital information to Shirley. Would the current “Shireen” guiding them also undergo a similar metamorphosis?
Moreover, two other individuals, Nina and Morris, had also mentioned meeting a guide named “Shireen”. Would their guide face a similar fate?
The core question was, who or what exactly were these beings known as “Shireen” that kept manifesting in the Dream of the Nameless One?
Lucretia had initially theorized that “Shireen” was just a figment of the dream, a projection of the chaotic intermingling of the dream’s foundational consciousness. Yet, emerging evidence suggested that there was something far more profound about the elf’s existence. “Shireen”, along with the forest and the entire “Dream of the Nameless One”, seemed to be entwined in a complex web of relationships that went beyond the usual interactions of dreams and their inhabitants.
The key to unraveling this mystery might lie in understanding the process of “Shireen’s” transformation into a tree.
Suddenly, the elf guiding them decelerated, turning around with a mix of concern and impatience. “Quick, we must hurry,” she called out, “The forest grows more dangerous by the moment. We can take a breather once we reach the Silent Wall.”
Heeding her warning, Lucretia, with Shirley and her canine companion, Dog, hastened their steps.
Shirley, slightly out of breath from their brisk pace, whispered her doubts, “Do you really believe that big rabbit can find those crafty cultists? I’m somewhat skeptical about its efficiency…”
Lucretia responded gently, “Rabbi might be playfully unpredictable at times, but I assure you, once she’s set on a task through my orders, Rabbi doesn’t disappoint. She’s exceptionally skilled at hunting within dreams, and she can even extend her search into our reality. Through her, we’ll pin down the cultists’ hideout.”
Dog, the faithful canine companion, sounded both curious and puzzled as he mused aloud, “What’s the origin of that massive rabbit? When I was near it, I distinctly detected a human aroma. It doesn’t come across as a mere magical entity, nor does it resemble any spirit or demon I’ve known. And Rabbi isn’t alone; numerous items on your ship radiate a similar aura. They’re all… unsettling, in a way.”
Lucretia chuckled lightly, her eyes filled with amusement, “Human scent, you say? Such a keen sense of smell you have, Dog. Indeed, what you picked up is a fragment of my own essence, my soul.”
Dog’s eyes widened, clearly shocked by this revelation, “Wait… What do you mean?”
Lucretia responded with a nonchalant shrug, “It’s simple. When Rabbi and I first crossed paths, she managed to consume a part of my soul. Little did she realize that this act would forever bind her to me. Many items aboard the Bright Star are just like Rabbi – they originated from either the liminal spaces or the spirit realm. These entities, once considering themselves predators, perceived me as a mere target. Their underestimation has always worked in my favor.”
She continued to explain, her voice calm yet assertive, “I strategically use fragments of my soul as lures, attracting potential servants from these realms. My soul, tainted by subspace, serves as a potent trap and anchor. Those who naively think of themselves as predators become ensnared by my essence. Be it infused in cloth, contained within vials, or sculpted in wood, they are integrated into the very structure of the Bright Star. I rely on such entities for my expeditions into the borderlands, as human companions often face grave risks and have high mortality rates.”
Pausing for emphasis, Lucretia leaned down to meet Dog’s gaze, “Your senses are sharp. Every nook and cranny of that ship is imbued with tiny shards of ‘human scent’. There’s no reason for you to feel so alarmed.”
Shirley and Dog exchanged wide-eyed glances, both rendered speechless by Lucretia’s candid revelations.
Observing their astounded expressions, Lucretia’s smile grew wider, seemingly delighting in their stunned reaction. She then shifted her focus back to trailing Shireen.
After ensuring the “Sea Witch” was at a safe distance from herself, Shirley, clutching her chain, communicated telepathically with Dog, her voice barely audible even in the spiritual link, “Dog, is this the vision the captain mentioned? What did he call it… ‘baiting? Could Lucretia be ‘baiting’ within herself?”
Dog murmured, using their special telepathic bond, “That does ring a bell. The captain had mentioned something similar while instructing me about the nuances of fishing.”
Shirley’s eyes sparkled with realization, “Well, considering you’re learning from the captain, it makes sense. And given that I’m his daughter, it’s not surprising that there’s a shared affinity for fishing in our blood.”
Dog pondered for a moment before replying, “Yet, I’ve heard Tyrian isn’t quite skilled in the same department, is he?”
Shirley chuckled, “Oh, Tyrian? Remember those stories about him retrieving numerous submarines from the ocean depths some years ago? While he may not have literally fished them out, he played a significant role in the operation.”
Dog smirked, “That’s a stretch, don’t you think? Labeling that as ‘fishing’?”
With a playful smirk, Shirley retorted, “Well, it was still a ‘catch’ from the ocean, wasn’t it?”
Dog just responded with an amused, wordless mental sigh.
……
With a flick of his wrist, Duncan discreetly deactivated the “listening” feature that was attuned to Shirley and Lucretia’s conversations.
He settled into a peculiar “chair”, an amalgamation of chaotic strokes and a mishmash of colors. His thoughts buzzed around the terms “baiting” and “fishing”. After deep contemplation, he shifted his attention to an abstractly designed “mirror” nearby. Within its distorted frame, he caught a glimpse of Agatha. Sighing, he mused aloud, “If only Shirley would channel even a fraction of the dedication she shows in her extracurricular pursuits into her academics. She wouldn’t constantly find herself vying with Alice, of all people, for higher grades.”
After a brief pause, Agatha finally responded, “On a side note, I’ve come to realize that Miss Lucretia possesses quite the flair for ‘fishing’ herself…”
Duncan, however, was quick to dismiss her observation, “That might be true, but our immediate concern isn’t about their skills or safety. Having Shirley and Lucretia together indeed provides a sense of security. Perhaps this creature, Rabbi, does possess the ability to track down those crafty cultists. But right now, our primary focus should be understanding this ship.”
He rose from his surreal chair, surveying the room immersed in a whirlwind of colors and overlapping lines. Once he had adjusted to this disorienting environment, he recognized a myriad of familiar items.
Fundamental elements like beds, chairs, and tables mirrored their placements in the real world. Still, the specifics, such as the items atop a table or intricate designs on a wall, manifested as mere indecipherable color smudges.
Duncan deduced that the goat head in the real world had only caught transitory glimpses of the captain’s quarters whenever the door was unintentionally left open. Those fleeting observations resulted in the room’s scrambled visual representation here.
Contrastingly, the rest of the ship was almost flawlessly replicated, owing to the fact that the goat head was intimately familiar with all other sections of the genuine Vanished, barring the captain’s chamber.
The uncanny representation of the Vanished was a distorted shadow, an offshoot of the real ship’s silhouette. This transformation was intricately rooted in the goat head’s unique “perception” and “recollections”.
Duncan discerned the bitter truth: this ship was birthed from the subconscious of his “first mate” Goathead, who remained oblivious to the dream he was engendering.
Furthermore, this ethereal realm seemed to possess a conduit leading to Atlantis’s dreamscape, suggesting an elusive “bridge” connecting this dimension to the dream world of Atlantis.
To test the boundaries of this environment, Duncan summoned a tiny flame with a mere gesture. The flame expanded like a ripple across a pond, but its spread was abruptly halted at the edges of this “chaotic chamber”, reflecting inwards like a wave recoiling upon meeting a barrier.
Over his duration within this mysterious dimension, Duncan had rigorously experimented, seeking to decipher the rules governing this world.
Within this secret chamber, unbeknownst to the dream-rendering “goat head”, Duncan discovered he had the freedom to manifest his ethereal flames without risking any disturbances to Atlantis. Recalling his previous attempt that had inadvertently startled Atlantis, he realized that beyond this room’s confines, he could only wield the fire that he had previously mapped out on the ship. Introducing any new elements could potentially rouse Atlantis from her slumber and prematurely terminate the Dream of the Nameless One.
This predicament left Duncan grappling with a dilemma: How could he assert his dominion over the ship and reinforce his bond with Atlantis, all the while ensuring he wouldn’t spook her again or provoke any defensive counteractions on her part?
Deep in contemplation, Duncan instinctively turned his attention to the room’s threshold.
Could the solution be simpler than he was making it out to be?
After a moment’s reflection, he advised Agatha to remain sheltered within this “protected zone”. Taking a determined stride, he ventured out.
The entranced “goat head” continued to linger by the navigational table, seemingly lost in its own reverie and oblivious to Duncan’s movements. Duncan quietly navigated past it, venturing further from the map room, and subsequently departed the captain’s private chamber. Guided by his ingrained recollection, he ascended the staircase situated directly behind the captain’s living space, leading him up to the aft deck.
Emerging from the encompassing obscurity and amidst wafting veils of mist, a distinct silhouette gradually materialized before Duncan as if it had been patiently anticipating his arrival, perhaps for an eternity.
Dominating his view was the ship’s iconic helm: The steering wheel of the Vanished.
A sense of resolve swelled within Duncan as he murmured to himself, “…The time has come to reclaim command.”
