Though both groups, the Sun Cult and the Annihilation Sect, are classified as cults, their principles, beliefs, and structure are drastically different. When Duncan encounters members from these cults, he has to bear in mind their individualistic attributes.
The Annihilation Sect is comprised of members who willingly choose to alter their very nature. They form dark pacts with demons, essentially changing themselves into powerful beings, still bearing the form of humans. These followers have a deep-rooted belief in the Nether Lord, a figure shrouded in mystery. However, what’s striking is that their devotion is unreciprocated. The Nether Lord does not regard them with the same fervor, making their bond with the ancient deities merely superficial. No matter how vehemently they voice their allegiance to the Nether Lord, their ties with ancient gods are tenuous.
Imagine the Annihilation Sect as a hierarchical tower. At its base are ordinary believers, lacking any significant power. Ascending the tower, one finds a priestly class, individuals with the capability to beckon demons. And, the summit is occupied by the so-called “saints”, individuals so transformed they scarcely seem human anymore. Within this vertical structure, every member continuously endeavors to ascend, hoping to grasp a clearer understanding of their perceived “truth”. Yet, the distant Nether Lord, positioned at the peak, remains indifferent.
In contrast, the Sun Cult has an entirely different method where power and information cascade from the top. Dominating the hierarchy is the “Black Sun”, a fading ancient god. As this god teeters on the edge of death, it produces powerful offsprings termed the “Scions”. These Scions oversee and safeguard humanoid creatures known as the “Remnants”, which are essentially remnants of the sun’s power. Beneath this layer is a multitude of human followers, not innately devoted to the Black Sun. Their allegiance is a consequence of the Black Sun’s power seeping into our realm, altering the mental state of certain humans, turning them into followers.
Seen from a certain angle, the Sun Cult is like a parasitic outgrowth of an ancient deity, a manifestation of the Black Sun’s waning power and substance.
When Duncan confronts the Annihilation Sect, he should remember they’re essentially humans, albeit changed. But when he faces the Sun Cult, he’s essentially dealing with the remnants of an ancient, chaotic god. Each Scion, each Remnant, is akin to a reflex of the slumbering ancient god’s tentacles.
These tentacles have a peculiar ability. They can creep into the dreams of beings known as the Nameless Ones. Driven by an inscrutable cosmic impulse, these tentacles have an agenda: to extract the “sun” from the dreams of the Nameless Ones. When compared against the Annihilation Sect, the tactics employed by these beings might appear more direct, more aggressive, and undeniably more dangerous.
Taking a brief pause, Duncan tries to process the plethora of information, choosing to momentarily shelve these intense reflections.
“We need Rabbi to pinpoint the location of that ship as soon as the dream ends. It’s of utmost importance that we do this quickly, but we must do so without tipping off that ‘Saint’.” Duncan announces through the shared connection.
A brief pause ensued before Lucretia’s voice, tinged with uncertainty, replied, “Are you worried about the elves who were captured for sacrificial purposes?”
Based on the ritual we observed in the dream, they don’t seem to be in immediate harm’s way,” Duncan remarked with a somber tone. “However, the cultists could have other rituals in mind. Moreover, it’s possible there are more elves on that ship than the two we are aware of. That’s one concern. My other, more pressing worry is about that ‘goat head’ artifact they have. I believe it may actually be a shard or piece of an ancient god. If that’s accurate, we cannot, under any circumstances, let a relic of such power remain with these cultists. It’s unpredictable what they could potentially do with it.”
Duncan couldn’t be certain, but he felt an almost palpable shift in Lucretia’s aura or “mark”. It was as if she was in a more positive mood, possibly reassured by his resolve.
“I’ll coordinate with Rabbi and work out a strategy,” Lucretia’s voice promised gently. “Give us a few days, and we’ll have that ship’s location for you.”
“Very well,” Duncan mentally responded, taking a deep breath to release the tension he felt. He then redirected his focus to the navigation table where the ominous-looking goat head statue rested.
Although it seemed stationary, Duncan could swear he saw the goat head sculpture alter its position just a moment ago. It appeared conscious yet had opted to remain quiet.
As Duncan closely examined the table, he noticed the previously displayed marine routes and markers were replaced by a vivid portrayal of a dense, enigmatic forest. Above this forest floated a ghostly image of the Vanished.
The goat head statue, from its vantage point, seemed to be closely observing Duncan’s every move.
After what seemed like an endless pause, the goat head – and Duncan found it strangely peculiar to label the object as “silent” – finally spoke, “You’re back, friend… You appear changed.”
“Changed? In what manner?” Duncan inquired with a quizzical expression.
The goat head pondered for a moment before replying, “It’s hard to articulate, but now, you strike me as… less of a threat. Previously, your presence stirred feelings of discomfort and befuddlement within me. I couldn’t fathom your essence. However, that perplexity and discomfort have now dissipated, even if I remain ignorant of your identity.”
Peering deeply into the eyes of the goat head statue, a realization dawned upon Duncan. The approach he had adopted this time around had indeed been effective.
Before 9 p.m., Duncan used a mirror as a gateway, mirroring the technique Agatha had previously used to step into the reflection of the Vanished. As the hour hand reached nine and the shift between realms took place, he didn’t merely remain an observer; instead, he merged flawlessly with the reflection. This allowed him to become a fundamental part of this enigmatic “Ship of Dreams.”
To put it plainly, he evolved from an outsider, merely observing this dreamlike state, to an active participant fully immersed within it.
After several trials and errors, Duncan finally discerned the correct way to truly “become one with this place.” With this newfound knowledge, he was no longer restrained. He could explore the ship’s length and breadth, assume command at its helm, or steer it towards the dense, foreboding mist that lay ahead. And, importantly, he could do so without the constant fear of inadvertently awakening the entities known as Atlantis or the goat head.
“It seems we’ve finally become acquainted,” Duncan thought, allowing himself a hint of a smile. He knew better than to openly acknowledge the dreamlike nature of this realm to any entity within it, so he chose his words more carefully, “This is indeed beneficial.”
“Acquainted?” The goat head reacted, its head tilting slightly as it processed Duncan’s words. Compared to their previous encounters, its lethargy seemed somewhat diminished, but it still exhibited a certain slow, ponderous demeanor. “Yes, it does seem like we’ve grown closer… become better allies, perhaps.”
Holding off his initial intention to direct the ship, Duncan instead settled into a high-backed chair near the navigation table. He gazed at the motionless goat head, choosing his next words carefully. “Where might Atlantis be at this moment?”
The goat head turned slightly, almost as if surprised by Duncan’s inquiry. Taking a moment, which felt eerily human in its contemplativeness, it eventually replied, “Atlantis permeates this place; she’s omnipresent.”
Duncan’s forehead creased with confusion. “Everywhere? Could you be more specific? I come with peaceful intentions; I merely wish to converse with her. I’m uncertain if this resonates with you, but she’s under threat. A malicious group seeks to inflict harm upon Atlantis, and my goal is to locate her before they can.”
While Duncan couldn’t be certain if his detailed explanation resonated with the entity, after a brief pause, the goat head responded with clarity.
“You’re already within Atlantis,” it proclaimed, maintaining unwavering eye contact with Duncan. “You’re ensconced within her thoughts, her memories. This realm represents both her boundaries and her very core. However, laying eyes on her… that is something you cannot do.”
Upon hearing the initial revelation from the goat head, a wave of clarity washed over Duncan. Yet, its final pronouncement left him grappling with unanswered questions. “Why can’t I see her?” Duncan pressed, his voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and frustration.
“Atlantis remains in a state of forgetfulness,” the goat head elucidated. “Until she reclaims her full memory, she exists as an elusive, undefined presence. At present, she is not ready, nor does she desire, to fully awaken.”
Duncan pieced together the hints, asking, “So, Atlantis currently exists within this dense, nebulous fog, doesn’t she? Her inability to achieve full self-awareness means she remains fragmented, elusive, and intangible, correct?” His mind raced, searching for solutions, “Is there a way for me to actually perceive her? Or at the very least, make some kind of connection?”
He remembered past encounters aboard the Ship of Dreams, the radiant traces within the enveloping darkness, and the ethereal voices emanating from them. Duncan was convinced those voices represented fragments of Atlantis’s consciousness. Yet, they seemed distant, existing in another plane, unresponsive to his attempts at communication.
The goat head, this time, seemed to contemplate longer before answering.
When it finally broke the silence, its voice was imbued with a sense of melancholy, “She requires more rest. Just a bit longer… not indefinitely. Let her resolve her own difficulties.”
……
Suddenly, a tempestuous wind howled, brushing past Vanna’s ears with ferocity. Before she knew it, a dust storm was rapidly forming, reducing visibility to almost nothing.
But just as she was about to shield herself from the oncoming onslaught, the tempest mysteriously ceased right in front of her. Emerging from the remaining gusts was a voice she recognized, “Traveler, our paths cross once more.”
Vanna instinctively turned towards the voice’s origin.
As the remnants of the storm dissipated, the imposing outline of the giant became increasingly distinct.
He was seated amidst a heap of black, fallen rocks. Beside him lay his enormous staff. The bonfire, which seemed ageless, had long burned out, leaving behind only embers that faintly glimmered and released sporadic sparks.
Vanna scanned her surroundings and found herself back where she had previously bid the giant goodbye – the same wind-protected enclave with the same now-extinguished bonfire. She had returned to this precise location, and it seemed the giant had been anticipating her return.
“As I had predicted, our reunion was imminent,” the giant remarked warmly, his face lined with age. “See, the embers still glow.”
“You’ve remained here awaiting my return?” Vanna inquired, slightly astonished. “I was under the impression…”
With a calm demeanor, the giant replied, “My wait was short-lived. This place has grown barren, and my diversions here are few. In its own way, waiting possesses a unique charm.”
After a brief pause, he lifted his gaze towards the horizon, a distant look in his eyes.
“Now that you’ve returned, Traveler… if you’re not beholden to a particular course, allow me to guide you to a place of interest.”
