Chapter 363

Chapter 363: Martha

“Smack!”

The papers in his hand slammed onto the desk. Lister sprang up from behind it—he almost jumped to his feet. The Harbor District Defense Commander stared wide?eyed at the subordinate in front of him: “Say that again?! What happened to Dagger Island?!”

“Dagger Island… Dagger Island has disappeared!” The soldier who had come to deliver the news stammered. Even as a well?trained Warrior, he could hardly control himself in this situation. “Just now, we saw a series of explosions on Dagger Island, likely the last people on the island blowing up the remaining facilities… After that, the fleet on patrol nearby watched with their own eyes as the island sank quickly and vanished from the sea’s surface…”

“The fleet wasn’t affected?” Lister frowned at once. Something felt wrong.

“No,” the soldier shook his head. “While Dagger Island was sinking, it hardly disturbed the surface of the sea. The report from the front says… it looked as if the island quietly melted into the water.”

Lister’s expression grew especially grim. He stayed silent for a few seconds, then looked up at the Gatekeeper still standing in the office: “Lady Agatha, in your knowledge, is there any known divine magic, sacred miracle, or supernatural item that can cause a phenomenon like this?”

“No,” Agatha shook her head without hesitation. “An Anomaly of this scale is already beyond the category of spells. It should be classed as a divine miracle—or some sort of Visions event.”

“…Whatever the case, we’re in deep trouble. The investigation hasn’t even begun. We still know nothing about what was really happening on Dagger Island, and now the whole island has vanished from the sea. City Hall will not like this news,” Lister said, brows tightly furrowed as he tapped the tabletop with his fingers. Then he seemed to think of something and snapped his head up to look at the soldier. “Right—how did the Sea Mist Fleet respond?”

“They’re still in their old positions and haven’t crossed the near?sea warning line,” the soldier answered at once. “But after Dagger Island disappeared, two of their fast boats briefly approached that stretch of sea. They stayed there for about ten minutes, then hurried back.”

“Sounds like they were observing the situation… It seems this caught them off guard too,” Lister said slowly. “Damn it. Looks like we really do have to talk to that Pirate Lord.”

“The Cathedral will act as well,” Agatha went on. “At this point, the plan to explore Dagger Island is meaningless. We will shift our strength to a full sweep inside the city. Our Guardians have already found leads on the Annihilators and several possible meeting sites. I will personally lead a team to deal with them.”

“I hope you gain something, Lady Gatekeeper,” Lister said, lifting his head to look at the black?robed priestess of the Goddess before him. “This matter is in a runaway state. We need help from the supernatural field more than ever, and the Cathedral’s investigation has already been moving far too slowly.”

“We will do everything we can.”

Agatha nodded lightly, then lifted the Gatekeeper’s cane and tapped it twice on the floor. With the sound of the cane striking the boards, her figure suddenly turned into a swirl of Ashen Wind, which coiled once and sank into a pale fissure that opened out of thin air on the floor.

Lister watched the place where Agatha had vanished. Only after the fissure closed did he sigh and drop heavily back into his chair. At the same time he told the soldier: “Go out and close the door.”

Next, he had to write an express dispatch to City Hall as quickly as possible, to try his best to explain the strange madness that had taken place right on the city’s doorstep.

…

At the harbor, the city’s staff were using mental guidance to bring ships to the docks. Men and women in black or blue uniforms stood on the concrete piers, each busy with their own tasks in the icy wind. They hardly spoke to one another, silent and absorbed in their work.

A little farther away, several other ships lay moored. They seemed to have been here for some time. Only a few people moved about on their decks. Their loading and resupply work had already finished; they were likely waiting for the next round of departure paperwork.

Farther still, one could see the main road leading into the urban district. The wide street stretched toward the tall buildings in the distance. The gas lamps lining the road had not yet been lit, but because it was nearly evening, there were not many people in sight. Only a few carriages hurried along the darkening street.

Lawrence stood at the edge of the deck, gazing at the city’s buildings in the distance.

This was not his first time in Frostholm, but it had been many years since his last visit. The long gap, and the way memory faded with age, left him unable to recall what the city used to look like. Now, as he stared at the distant spires and towers standing in the dusk, he felt only a deep sense of unfamiliarity.

Still, the White Oak had at last docked safely in this city?state. The weather had been especially bad all along the way, but in the end they had not run into any storm or other disaster.

Footsteps came from behind him. The old captain turned and saw his First Mate.

“The inspection is almost over,” the First Mate said. “Everyone asked me to check if we can go into the city today. After this whole trip, they’re sick of being stuck on the ship.”

Lawrence looked up at the sky. The World’s Wound had not yet appeared, but the last glow of daylight was already fading away. He frowned and shook his head: “It’s too late. After nightfall there’s a curfew in the city. There’s nowhere worth going if you land now. Everyone stay on the ship and behave yourselves. In a while I’ll go to The Harbor’s administration office and handle the remaining paperwork. Tomorrow morning the others can come ashore.”

“All right, I’ll pass that on,” the First Mate said with a smile, then casually asked: “But you’re going alone? Want me to send a couple of people with you?”

“No need. I can already see The Harbor’s office door—it’s right by the pier,” Lawrence waved a hand and pointed toward a light not far on shore. “Once The Harbor inspectors leave, check every hold on the ship again, especially the lower deck that stores the sacred relic and the sealed vaults. Make sure no careless fool has tampered with the safeguards.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The First Mate left. Lawrence drew a shallow breath of the night air. The biting wind from the Northern Seas poured into his lungs and made him shiver awake.

The old captain shook his head, grumbling a little about the awful weather here, then walked toward the nearby stairs.

A figure stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded, watching Lawrence calmly from within the crisscross of dim lights.

Lawrence hesitated and stopped. After studying her for a moment, he spoke, unsure: “…Martha? Why are you here too?”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be asking questions right now. I’d be leaving at once,” the female mariner said. She folded her arms and turned her gaze on the old captain, her tone tinged with helplessness. “Your guard has slipped, Lawrence.”

“Martha, I…” Lawrence stepped forward half a pace without thinking. He faintly felt something was wrong, but countless words stuck in his throat. He could only reach out to her clumsily. “I’ve missed you a bit… How have you been lately?”

Martha did not answer him. The female mariner only gave him a calm look, her gaze seeming to focus on somewhere far beyond him. In the soft sea wind and the sound of gentle waves, she slowly began to hum:

“Hoist the sails, hoist the sails, the sailor who left home keeps moving on…

“In the wind and waves, in the noise, only a single board stands between us and death.

“Reef the jibs, spread the mainsail, cast off the ropes, hold tight to the rail—we have come to the middle of the sea…”

Martha’s voice grew lower and lower until she finally stopped. Her eyes refocused on Lawrence, and in a voice that sounded almost like she was talking to herself she said softly: “Lawrence, be careful. You have come to the middle of the sea.”

Lawrence drew in a sharp breath. The cold air jolted his mind awake. At once he seemed to remember something. He grabbed at his chest and fumbled in his pocket, fast but clumsy.

Martha took a step and slowly walked toward him.

“Lawrence, how did you get so old?” The female mariner reached out her hand. Her hoarse voice held a trace of gentleness. She still looked young. Though her face carried a few marks left by life at sea, she was just as beautiful as in Lawrence’s memory. “It’s been many years, hasn’t it? You’re not young anymore… and neither am I…”

“Martha…” Lawrence’s throat worked. He felt his fingers were about to touch the little bottle, yet he missed it again and again.

He could almost smell Martha’s scent—the familiar trace of lemon. It had always been her favorite fragrance.

His hand found the little bottle.

“Martha…”

He took it out and held it in his hand, but his feet felt rooted to the deck. He watched the woman from his memories reach out to him, just like in his countless dreams. That hand carried a familiar warmth as it slowly brushed his hair. He saw the woman from his memories smile, as if she meant to tell him about all the longing of their years apart…

“Martha, I’m sorry.”

Lawrence clenched the vial and poured the bitter medicine into his mouth.

Martha vanished.