Chapter 222 “Shaken”
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
As was her custom during moments of turmoil, Vanna found solace and steadiness by silently mouthing the revered verses from the Storm Codex, taking care to recite each word in her heart. Following her recitation, she reached into her drawer, retrieving a half-consumed candle marked with ancient runes. With care, she positioned it beside her and, with a spark, ignited it to life.
As she lit the candle, a tiny yet radiant flame sprang forth from the wick. The room began to fill with a tranquil fragrance, a result of the unique oils the candle was crafted from. Vanna didn’t delay in taking a deep inhalation, welcoming the scent. In tandem, she allowed a ritualistic dagger to make a minor incision on her palm.
The crimson hue of her blood seeped into the meticulously etched designs on the dagger. It seemed as though the blood was being consumed by the enigmatic forces bound to the artifact. There was a fleeting sharpness from the cut, but it was only momentary. Soon after, the divine intervention of the goddess mended Vanna’s wound.
She intently observed the dagger, rooted to her spot. Vanna was aware that hesitation during such a ritual was unwise, yet she needed to assure herself that the magic unfolding wasn’t a mere figment of her imagination. Once satisfied that all was proceeding as it should, she positioned the blood-laden dagger above the candle’s flame, letting it be enveloped.
In a soft but firm 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 seemed to respond with fervor. The blood on the blade burst into a cascade of erratic sparks, signaling the establishment of a celestial connection.
With blood as the medium, saints like Vanna could forge a bridge to the ethereal realms, akin to having a direct conversation with deities.
In anticipation, the rhythmic sound of ocean waves began to resonate in her ears. The atmosphere around her started to feel humid, and she detected the familiar tang of salt in the air. Then, in a sweeping transition, her room vanished.
In its place was an infinite expanse of water, dimly illuminated from below. Within this vast sea, countless luminous entities glided gracefully, reminiscent of a colony of jellyfish floating through the ocean depths.
Yet Vanna’s attention wasn’t on these luminous beings. Her focus sharpened as she discerned the nebulous silhouette of a woman forming amidst the waters. At first glance, this figure seemed to be a woman robed in a flowing white gown, with shadowy tendrils emanating from her, sprawling in various directions. Vanna couldn’t discern the features hidden behind a mysterious veil, yet she felt an undeniable certainty. This was the storm goddess’s avatar, a fragment of Gomona’s immense power, manifested in a form comprehensible to mortals, allowing them to converse during periods of distress.
To Vanna’s surprise, even though she had initiated the ritual with the intention of seeking assistance, it was the avatar of the goddess who first expressed a desire to communicate. This desire wasn’t conveyed through words, but rather as a compelling mental nudge that penetrated Vanna’s consciousness.
Gathering her courage, Vanna began, her voice tinged with uncertainty, “I have managed to live until now because of my reliance on subspace. Knowing this, why did you select me as your saint and bestow your blessings upon me?”
The ethereal avatar remained motionless, an enigma amidst the swirling waters. Vanna, well aware of the gravity of her question, did not dare push for an immediate answer. She understood that even though the form before her was merely a projection, it represented a direct conduit to the goddess Gomona. Her very question was audacious, 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 even more puzzling than the often ambiguous prophecies delivered to the devout. Intuitively, she sensed an underlying meaning, a hidden layer of context in the goddess’s words, but she struggled to decipher it. Desperate for clarity, she pressed, “What exactly makes no difference? I don’t understand why you would select someone like me, especially knowing I am tainted by the effects of subspace…”
But 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. It throbbed with the rhythm of a heartbeat, causing the avatar of the goddess to waver and then fade away. As this luminous force surged, the bond between Vanna and the deity was severed. Yet, amidst the chaos, Vanna managed to discern a few fragmented phrases: “Time is limited… Imminent… Crucial…”
And then, abruptly, the connection was lost.
Vanna was jolted back to reality, her heart racing as she gasped for breath, as if she’d been submerged underwater. Glancing around, she found herself back in her room. The imaginary world was gone. The ritual dagger, which she believed was still in her grasp, lay abandoned on the floor. The only remnant of her mystical journey was the candle engraved with runes, its flame dancing erratically.
After regaining her composure and grounding herself, Vanna’s attention shifted away from the mesmerizing flame. She retrieved the fallen dagger and carefully placed it back in its drawer.
Her mind raced, grappling with the few significant revelations she had gleaned from her brief communion with the deity: “It makes no difference,” and the urgent proclamation, “time is limited, on the brink of being critical.”
Vanna wrestled with the fragmented guidance she had received. While she grappled with the ambiguity of one part of the message, the implications of the other seemed clearer. Yet, even that clarity brought with it a slew of unanswered questions.
“Is the goddess suggesting that a significant event is on the horizon? Is this a warning that I have precious little time to prepare? When she mentioned ‘critical,’ what exactly did she mean? Could it be another catastrophe? Maybe something on the scale of the previous reality breach?”
“Could it possibly be linked to the recent turmoil that Pland had endured?”
Her attempt at a prayer did little to ease her anxiety. In fact, she felt even more agitated than she had throughout the day.
But just as her mind threatened to spiral into further disarray, an odd hue in her peripheral vision snapped her out of her thoughts. The flame of the rune-inscribed candle, which was formerly a golden yellow, now emanated a vibrant green hue.
Suddenly alerted, Vanna darted her gaze to the ornate oval mirror atop her dresser. To her astonishment, Captain Duncan’s familiar countenance stared back.
“Are you alright?” The stern and commanding apparition inquired.
Taken aback, Vanna recoiled, instinctively distancing herself 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, which prompted me to investigate. I was concerned that an undetected adversary might be lurking within the city. Admittedly, I should’ve given you some notice before arriving.”
Vanna tried to wrap her head around his explanation. The idea of him sensing her aura made her uncomfortable. 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 the worse for wear if you did.”
Feeling increasingly exasperated by their interaction, Vanna retorted, “I’m not some brutish figure who only knows how to lash out. Communicating with you, a phantom captain, is oddly draining. Everytime you appear, it’s unexpected and often disconcerting. I was under the impression that 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 tad 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, weighing her words. After what seemed like an eternity, she advanced slightly, inclining 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’d 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 with regard to 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, holding up 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 for a moment 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.