Chapter 597

Chapter 597: Stream of Light

Ever since he had discovered this strange Vanished sailing through endless darkness and fog, Duncan had been very careful not to try and seize its wheel.

He had not known what this ship really was, nor how it might react if he tried to “take control.”

But now he knew the ship was the shadow of the Vanished, and that it had changed because Goathead had slipped into Dreamwalking without knowing it. That knowledge eased many of Duncan’s worries.

It was time for this ship that sailed through dreams to learn who its real captain was.

Duncan slowly walked up onto the helm platform at the stern. His steps passed the iron hooks and ropes nearby. The ropes lay silent, coiled and waiting in the dark. In the middle of the platform, the dull-colored wheel rocked a little from side to side, as if it was still making tiny course changes here in the dreamscape, as if Goathead was still faithfully steering it.

Duncan came to the wheel and took a slow breath. He could not help remembering the scene from the first time he had stood here and set his hand on the helm.

He shook off those stray thoughts. Then he reached out and slowly gripped one of the smooth, cold handles at the rim of the wheel. Along with the smooth, chilly feel came a faint resistance.

Duncan ignored the resistance that seeped through the dream itself. He called on the “safe” fire seeds he had sent onto the ship earlier and ordered them to gather at the helm while he tightened his grip on the wheel.

The next second, thin threads of flame appeared in the darkness out of nowhere. Spirit-form fire flared up and in an instant set the helm platform at the stern ablaze. Duncan’s body turned into a half-transparent spirit form within the flames, and fire swept over the whole helm, wheel and all.

In that instant, Duncan felt the ship changing under his hands. It became clear and solid in his mind, just like the Vanished in the Mortal Realm. He sensed its deck, its masts, each sail and every rope. He sensed the dark, hidden rooms and corridors below the deck…

The whole ship groaned and creaked. This Vanished, shaped from a shadow and formed by the power of dreams, suddenly seemed to awaken. It finally recognized its captain. Every part of the ship seemed to cheer. The ropes, barrels, and other things that had been still a moment ago started to sway in the dark.

Right after that, as the spirit-form sails slowly filled, Duncan felt the ghost ship begin to speed up. Before, it had drifted slowly in the dark mist. Now it moved as if it had a clear destination and was sailing toward some point in the darkness.

Duncan felt that sudden change with surprise, especially the sudden burst of speed. But before he could sense what lay ahead on this course, a voice suddenly came from nowhere and went straight into his mind: “…Who is there?”

It was a young girl’s voice, a little hazy and confused, sounding half awake and half asleep. It echoed everywhere in the darkness. In the very next instant, Duncan felt light and shadow bloom before his eyes. Then a huge structure appeared out of the darkness ahead, and dim phantom lights rose in the ship’s path.

It looked like a giant whirlpool. But inside the whirlpool he saw countless shapes like vines or branches. Endless vines and boughs surged toward the Vanished from ahead and, in the blink of an eye, wrapped almost every inch of space beyond the railings. In Duncan’s sight, that vast plant structure filled everything and stretched and moved backward as the Vanished sailed on.

It felt as if the ship had suddenly “flown” into a tunnel woven from some huge plant. Vines and branches twisted together to form the walls and the dome of that tunnel. A crushing sense of pressure came with it. At the same time, countless tiny lights appeared along the vines and then flowed together like water.

Those lights finally reached the Vanished. They began to spread along the deck and the sides of the hull, creeping closer and closer to the stern where Duncan stood. Something seemed to be gathering inside the glow, but it never took on a clear shape. The lights simply gathered and drew nearer, as if searching for something.

Under that overwhelming sight and strange radiance, Duncan held the wheel tight. He controlled himself and refused to step away from the helm no matter what happened. He watched the dark vines and branches slide past outside the railings. He felt the Vanished’s speed slowly drop, as if some unseen force was dragging at the ship. Then the wandering lights finally gathered near him again, and he heard the young, childlike voice once more.

“Who is it? Who is there?”

Duncan stared hard at the light. He watched it drift near him and wander around the helm without purpose, while the voice kept sounding in his mind.

“Have you come back, Saslokar? …Have you come home? You have been gone so long…

“I cannot see you… Where are you? Can I open my eyes now? Is it all over?

“I… I cannot open my eyes, Saslokar. I am a little scared. I cannot see anything… but something is here…

“I kept them all safe. I built a wall. You will see them when you come back… but I cannot see you. Are you there? Have you come back?”

The light called out again and again. It drifted and gathered around the helm, then broke apart into blind, chaotic streams. More than once, a strand of light flowed right up to the wheel and even brushed against Duncan’s coat and sleeves.

Yet “she” seemed unable to sense Duncan at all.

“She” could not see anything, as if the owner of that voice and Duncan were locked in different dimensions, living in different times and spaces.

Duncan watched the streams of light wandering past. He listened to the voice that seemed to speak straight in his mind. When the glow drew close, he could even feel a faint warmth from it. The words, repeated over and over, sounded like they carried many vital clues. He frowned, hesitated for a moment, then finally reached out. One hand stayed on the wheel. The other reached toward one of the streams of light.

The light touched his palm, bringing a warmth that felt both real and unreal.

Then the little stream of light flowed straight through his arm. Its warmth faded away. As if it belonged to another dimension, the light passed on toward the stern.

But in that brief contact, Duncan learned, or rather confirmed, the name of the light and the voice. She was Atlantis, the elves’ World Tree.

That name stamped itself into Duncan’s mind as pure information, as if showing the corrupting nature of knowledge itself.

Duncan blanked out for a second. Then he suddenly felt the deck under his feet tremble.

A moment later, the tremor ran through the whole ship. The Vanished, sailing through the dark mist, began to shake violently. The spirit-form sails went out in the darkness at once. Cracks spread over the deck. Everything that made up the ship started to fade and fall apart. Even the wheel in Duncan’s hands began to lose its solid feel.

Duncan froze, then realized what was happening.

The dream was losing stability. The time to “wake up” had come.

Yet this time he had gone out of his way to avoid using flames that would disturb Atlantis. In that brief contact, he had not felt any sign that Atlantis was waking. So why was the dream still falling apart so fast?

…

A sudden wild wind in the desert tore Vanna from her thoughts. She sprang up from behind the stones where she had been sheltering from the wind and looked toward the direction where sand and dust were rising.

Walls of sand were rearing up in the distance. Everything in the dust and haze grew vague at great speed. The jagged rocks became twisted and unreal, as if they might vanish from this world at any moment.

After a brief moment of shock, Vanna received a message from the captain.

The Nameless One’s dream was losing stability. This dream was about to end.

The flying sand and the twisting, fading horizon showed that the borders of the dream were racing toward her.

Vanna quickly turned her head and looked across the almost dead campfire.

The old giant there was lifting his head. Calm fire burned in his deep, hollow, stone-like eyes.

“Traveler, it seems the time has come to say goodbye.”

Vanna paused, then suddenly understood. “How did you… know…?”

“I do not know what is going to happen,” the giant said gently. He slowly rose from the pile of rocks. His body stood in the wind like a tower. Lowering his head, he gazed calmly into Vanna’s eyes with a kind of divine gaze. “But I can feel that a journey is ending for now. You are about to leave, aren’t you? You do not belong to this ruined world. There is still life in you, and this world has not seen life for a very long time.”

Vanna opened her mouth but could not think of what to say. In this short moment before the dream woke, it seemed she had time only to say farewell.

The giant smiled and bent down to pick up his strange, long staff.

Vanna noticed that there were now a few more symbols on the surface of that huge “gatekeeper’s cane,” which was even taller than the giant himself.

They were letters. They carried a strange, blurry sense of familiarity. For a second, she felt she was about to understand them. But in the next instant, the meaning of the letters slipped from her mind like running water.

They were words she did not know.

“Traveler, perhaps we will meet again,” the giant’s voice came from above, breaking Vanna’s daze. “And maybe it will be soon.”

Vanna started. “Why?”

The giant pointed at the gatekeeper’s cane. “Because there is a sentence here that I have not finished carving yet.”

Vanna blinked and had just opened her mouth to ask something when the storm of sand rushed at her from behind. In the rising dust, the world in front of her shook and collapsed at great speed.

A second later, the broken world came back together and turned into a familiar living room, a familiar table, and a familiar roof.

Familiar faces reappeared in front of her.