Chapter 222 “Shaken”
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
In times of distress, Vanna often found solace in silently reciting revered verses from the Storm Codex, ensuring each word resonated within her heart. After her recitation, she reached into her drawer and retrieved a half-burnt candle inscribed with ancient runes. She carefully placed it beside her and, with a spark, ignited its wick.
A small yet radiant flame emerged from the candle, filling the room with a soothing fragrance from its unique oils. Vanna inhaled deeply, welcoming the scent. Simultaneously, she used a ritualistic dagger to make a small incision on her palm.
Her blood, a deep crimson, seeped into the dagger’s intricate designs, seemingly consumed by the mystical forces within the artifact. The pain from the cut was fleeting, as the goddess’s divine intervention quickly healed her wound.
Vanna fixed her gaze on the dagger, rooted in her spot. She knew hesitation during such rituals was unwise but needed to confirm that the magic unfolding was real. Satisfied that everything was proceeding correctly, she held the blood-stained dagger over the candle’s flame, allowing it to be engulfed by the fire.
In a soft but resolute voice, she intoned, “Goddess of the Storm, Gospel of the deep sea, Maiden of the Tranquil Waters, hear my call. Your devoted disciple seeks your guidance…”
As her words resonated, the flames responded with intensity. The blood on the blade erupted into a burst of erratic sparks, signifying the establishment of a celestial connection.
With blood as the medium, saints like Vanna could create a bridge to the ethereal realms, akin to a direct conversation with deities.
Soon, the rhythmic sound of ocean waves began to resonate in her ears. The air around her grew humid, and she detected the familiar tang of salt. Then, her room vanished, replaced by an infinite expanse of water, dimly lit from below. Within this vast sea, countless luminous entities glided gracefully, reminiscent of jellyfish drifting through the ocean depths.
Vanna’s attention was not on these luminous beings but on a nebulous silhouette of a woman forming amidst the waters. Initially, this figure appeared as a woman in a flowing white gown, with shadowy tendrils extending from her in various directions. Though Vanna couldn’t discern the features behind the mysterious veil, she felt certain this was the storm goddess’s avatar, a fragment of Gomona’s immense power, manifested in a form comprehensible to mortals, enabling them to converse in times of distress.
To Vanna’s surprise, even though she had initiated the ritual to seek assistance, the goddess’s avatar expressed a desire to communicate first. This desire wasn’t conveyed through words but as a compelling mental nudge that penetrated Vanna’s consciousness.
Gathering her courage, Vanna began, her voice tinged with uncertainty, “I have survived so far because of my reliance on subspace. Knowing this, why did you select me as your saint and bless me?”
The ethereal avatar remained still, an enigma amidst the swirling waters. Vanna, aware of the gravity of her question, dared not push for an immediate answer. She understood that even though the form before her was merely a projection, it represented a direct link to the goddess Gomona. Her question was bold, possibly even blasphemous.
After what felt like an eternity in this otherworldly realm, a profound thought, almost like a downloaded concept, embedded itself in Vanna’s mind.
“…It makes no difference.”
Confounded, Vanna echoed, “It makes no difference?” This cryptic response was more puzzling than the often ambiguous prophecies given to the devout. She sensed an underlying meaning, a hidden context in the goddess’s words, but struggled to decipher it. Desperate for clarity, she pressed, “What exactly makes no difference? I don’t understand why you would choose someone like me, especially knowing I am tainted by the effects of subspace…”
Before she could fully articulate her confusion, the watery illusion around her began to undulate and contort violently. From the depths, a radiant light, gentle yet intense, emerged, pulsing with the rhythm of a heartbeat. This caused the goddess’s avatar to waver and then fade away. As this luminous force surged, the connection between Vanna and the deity was severed. Amidst the chaos, Vanna managed to discern a few fragmented phrases: “Time is limited… Imminent… Crucial…”
Then, abruptly, the connection was lost.
Vanna was jolted back to reality, her heart racing as she gasped for breath, as if she had been submerged underwater. She found herself back in her room, the imaginary world gone. The ritual dagger, which she thought was still in her grasp, lay abandoned on the floor. The only remnant of her mystical journey was the rune-engraved candle, its flame flickering erratically.
After regaining her composure, Vanna’s attention shifted from the mesmerizing flame. She picked up the fallen dagger and carefully placed it back in its drawer.
Her mind raced, grappling with the significant revelations from her brief communion with the deity: “It makes no difference,” and the urgent warning, “time is limited, critical.”
Vanna struggled with the ambiguous guidance she had received. While one part of the message was unclear, the implications of the other seemed more evident, though even that clarity brought numerous questions.
“Is the goddess suggesting a significant event is on the horizon? Is this a warning that I have little time to prepare? When she mentioned ‘critical,’ what did she mean? Could it be another catastrophe? Something on the scale of the previous reality breach?”
“Could it be linked to the recent turmoil that Pland had endured?”
Her prayer did little to ease her anxiety; in fact, she felt more agitated than she had all day.
Just as her mind threatened to spiral further, an odd hue in her peripheral vision snapped her out of her thoughts. The flame of the rune-inscribed candle, once a golden yellow, now emitted a vibrant green hue.
Suddenly alert, Vanna darted her gaze to the ornate oval mirror atop her dresser. To her astonishment, Captain Duncan’s familiar face stared back.
“Are you alright?” The stern and commanding apparition inquired.
Taken aback, Vanna recoiled, instinctively stepping back from the mirror. “Was it you who interfered with my ritual?”
Duncan, looking unperturbed, responded, “Ritual? I believe you’re mistaken.” He continued, “I was alerted when I sensed turmoil in your aura, prompting me to investigate. I was concerned an undetected adversary might be lurking within the city. I admit, I should’ve given you notice before arriving.”
Vanna tried to process his explanation. The idea of him sensing her aura made her uneasy. If she didn’t know him better, she might have thought he was some spectral voyeur watching her every move.
Attempting to allay her fears, Duncan remarked, “You’re still very much in the real world. I’d advise against attacking me as you did before. Your room would be worse for wear if you did.”
Feeling increasingly exasperated by their interaction, Vanna retorted, “I’m not some brute who only knows how to lash out. Communicating with you, a phantom captain, is oddly draining. Every time you appear, it’s unexpected and often disconcerting. I was under the impression you had departed for good.”
Duncan’s ethereal face in the mirror displayed a hint of annoyance, apparently taken aback by Vanna’s guarded and somewhat hostile demeanor. “You could stand to be a bit more courteous. While I may have departed, time and space are mere trivialities to beings like me. After all, I just defended your city-state. A word of gratitude would be appropriate, don’t you think?”
Vanna fixed her gaze on the spectral figure of Captain Duncan, choosing her words carefully. After what seemed like an eternity, she advanced slightly and inclined her head in an unexpected gesture of gratitude. “I truly appreciate your assistance. Pland is profoundly indebted to you for your intervention,” she admitted sincerely.
Duncan appeared taken aback by this forthright expression of gratitude. He had half-expected Vanna to remain defensive, equating her physical prowess with a lack of flexibility in her thinking. “It’s alright,” he responded, trying to lighten the mood. “There’s no need to make such a formal gesture. I simply mentioned it in passing.”
Vanna, undeterred by his attempt to deflect the acknowledgment, held her ground. “Our allegiances might be different, but the fact remains that you played a pivotal role in safeguarding Pland,” she stated resolutely, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Numerous lives were spared from calamity today, and in my capacity as an inquisitor, it is my duty to express our collective gratitude.”
She paused, her expression turning stern, “However, this gesture of appreciation doesn’t imply that I’ve let my guard down regarding you and the Vanished. The true intent behind your interactions with our world remains ambiguous. Until I can ascertain your motives, my stance remains unchanged.”
Duncan, suppressing a chuckle, interjected before Vanna could proceed further, treating her with the indulgent amusement of an elder amused by a younger one’s earnestness. “Understood,” he said, raising a hand to halt her words. “Let’s shift our discussion to a more pressing matter. You seem quite troubled – is there something you want to talk about?”
Matching his gaze with a determined one of her own, Vanna hesitated before replying, “I apologize, but it’s a personal matter and doesn’t concern you.”
Duncan tilted his head slightly, his voice taking on a softer, more contemplative tone. “It might not directly concern me, but given the unique bond we share, your current state of distress hasn’t gone unnoticed. Remember, you bear my mark, Vanna. It allows me to sense your emotional turbulence. Perhaps, in some way, I might be able to assist.”
Join the dark side Vanna, we have fish and fries!!!
Yes… “Fish”.
Fish and chips, nice!
God I really want fries right now.