Chapter 83 “The Entanglement”

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Uncle Dante had brought over a soothing herbal liqueur that combined medicinal herbs and alcohol; the restorative qualities of the potion helped settle Vanna’s restless thoughts. She pushed open the balcony door and stood there, letting the wind rush past her as she gazed longingly at the distant cathedral’s silhouette.

“Every time you come back to this house, you’re plagued by nightmares, and they’re always rooted in your childhood,” said Dante Wayne, his voice reaching her from the room behind her.

Vanna responded quietly, “As an inquisitor, showing vulnerability is a sign of weakness.” Although she towered over her uncle, she felt no hesitation in revealing her true self to this older man who had raised her. “I’m troubled, Uncle Dante.”

“Have you discussed this with Heidi?” he inquired.

“Heidi suggested four different neurosurgical procedures and two types of neuropuncture therapies,” Vanna sighed. “Out of respect for our long-standing friendship, I haven’t pursued any of them.”

Dante Wayne shook his head. “That’s just like Heidi. She’s not really in touch with ordinary people. I find it hard to believe that after all these years, you’re still tormented by that same nightmare.”

“I thought I had moved past it,” Vanna said, rubbing her temples. “But maybe it has something to do with this old house. Whenever I return, the nightmares come back. I relive that moment over and over again. Maybe I should think about performing another exorcism on this house. It feels like this building retains the shadow of that terrible event.”

Uncle Dante paused to think. He didn’t object, but instead asked carefully, “Do your recurring nightmares still feature that fire?”

Vanna nodded. “Yes, fire was everywhere. You were carrying me on your back, rushing away from the inferno. I even vividly recall how we escaped through the factory’s pipeline, and a nearby building was on the brink of collapsing due to the flames.”

Her eyes locked onto her uncle. “You don’t remember the fire, do you?”

Dante Wayne, a stern-looking man who also served as the city governor, slowly shook his head. “Not just me, no one else remembers that fire either. All I recall is a gas leak and some deranged cultists. Many people were involved that night, but it seems only you witnessed a sea of flames.”

Vanna remained silent for a long moment, lost in her thoughts. Finally, she said softly, “Except for the ‘fire,’ my memories align with yours. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I now realize there must have been some supernatural forces at play. And even after all these years, their influence hasn’t waned.”

Her uncle nodded, his expression serious. “This means that either this supernatural influence is so potent that it has left an indelible imprint on your soul, or the source of this influence is still lurking somewhere within our city-state. I’ve been investigating this for years, but unfortunately, I’ve yet to make any headway.”

In the end, Dante Wayne’s voice took on a shade of regret. It was an apology not just for his inability to alleviate his niece Vanna’s emotional distress, but also for his failure to resolve an ancient case that still haunted them both—despite his authoritative position as the city governor.

The wounds left by the “great chaos” eleven years prior were too deep and seemed to never fully heal.

Vanna sensed that the issue weighed heavily on her uncle’s mind as well as her own. Though she wasn’t particularly skilled at offering comfort, she decided the best she could do was to redirect the conversation. “I remember that a significant number of cultists were apprehended during the incident. In fact, its scale surpassed even the ‘Black Sun’ crisis we experienced four years ago,” she remarked.

“Yes,” sighed Dante Wayne, “we arrested so many people that it strained belief—thousands, in fact. I found myself questioning how so many cultists could have been lurking undetected in our city-state of Pland. And they didn’t just belong to one sect. There were Suntists devoted to the Black Sun, Annihilationists who worshiped the Nether Lord, and even Enders who venerated subspace itself. All of these factions emerged from the shadows that night, plunging the city into an uproar with their manic activities.”

Vanna scrutinized her uncle as she spoke, “Yet, the subsequent interrogations revealed that none of these captured cultists could be considered the ‘masterminds’ behind the turmoil. None of them seemed to understand why they were causing chaos that particular night. Rather than acting as part of an organized effort to create havoc, it was as if they all erupted into collective madness simultaneously, losing control entirely.”

Dante Wayne fell quiet, pondering her words. After a moment, he met Vanna’s gaze intently, “Your current unease isn’t just because of those old nightmares, is it? Does the revival of these topics have something to do with the recent instability within the city-state?”

Vanna didn’t evade the query. “You’re right; there is a connection. The Suntists have begun to converge on the city-state, searching for something they call the ‘sun fragment.’ Almost concurrently, the mysterious entity known as the Vanished has made a reappearance in the material world, its trajectory eerily pointing towards Pland. While it’s difficult to definitively link these events, the rising tide of chaotic energies brings back unsettling memories of the crisis eleven years ago.”

Dante Wayne nodded gravely. “I’ve already taken steps. Strict checks on all personnel movements at maritime ports are in place. I’ve also notified the governors of neighboring city-states. Many Suntists attempting to infiltrate have been apprehended aboard incoming ships, effectively sealing their routes into Pland. As for those who have already penetrated our defenses, our next actions will largely depend on the Storm Church. They are specialists in tracking down and neutralizing supernatural criminals.”

Pausing mid-sentence, the middle-aged city governor, Dante Wayne, seemed to grapple with a decision. It was as though he was wrestling with whether certain matters should be discussed at this moment. Finally, he made up his mind and broke the silence: “Regarding the Vanished, I may not be able to provide much help when it comes to the supernatural aspects, but I have a thought about the situation from a secular standpoint.”

“The secular standpoint?” Vanna’s brow furrowed, puzzled by how a ghost ship like the Vanished could have anything to do with the secular world. Before she could voice her question, she remembered an old saying and quickly put two and two together. “Wait, are you suggesting…”

“The captains of the ‘Bright Star’ and the ‘Sea Mist’, Lucretia Abnomar and Tyrian Abnomar,” Dante said at a measured pace, “Though the Vanished is a ship beyond our understanding, steeped in supernatural phenomena, it once had a tangible existence in our world. As such, there must still be ‘anchors’ in reality to which it was once connected. I’m curious how the twin children of its infamous captain, Duncan, might react to their ‘father’s’ reappearance.”

Vanna’s eyes widened. She had always approached problems in a direct and forceful manner, so the idea of confronting the Vanished from this nuanced perspective had never occurred to her. After a moment, she frowned and spoke, “But from what I’ve heard, neither of these captains frequently interacts with the city-states. They’ve carved out their own dominions in the Boundless Sea, each wielding considerable influence. They maintain a frigid, even tense, relationship with all the city-states.”

“That’s understandable,” Dante replied, “given that they are the descendants of that infamous ghost captain. Both the ‘Bright Star’ and the ‘Sea Mist’ were originally escort ships for the Vanished before they parted ways over a century ago. It’s not that they’ve distanced themselves from the city-states; rather, most city-states actively avoid any association with them due to the risks and curses implied by their lineage.”

“So you’re expecting them to come to Pland’s aid against their own father?” Vanna asked skeptically.

“It’s more of a tentative strategy than a concrete expectation,” Dante answered with surprising gravity. “Both Lucretia and Tyrian severed their ties with their father even before the incident at the Thirteen Islands of Witherland. Decades ago, there were rumors among sea captains that the ‘Sea Mist’ had engaged in combat with an apparition resembling the Vanished in the northern seas. This suggests that these captains may not be wholly loyal to their ghostly father.”

Vanna took her time to process this. “Back then, the ‘Sea Mist’ was under the command of the Frost Queen. Captain Tyrian might have been acting on orders to safeguard the city-states. But you have a point. At the very least, this suggests that the ‘Sea Mist’ has a history of confronting the Vanished.”

Still, she harbored reservations, and after contemplating for a moment, she voiced them, “What if Lucretia and Tyrian choose to ignore Pland’s plight?”

Dante responded with equanimity, “Then it’s simply an avenue we’ve explored and found wanting. I intend to disseminate information about the Vanished’s reappearance and trajectory towards Pland to both captains. From there, how they choose to respond will be up to them.”

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