Deep Sea Embers

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Looking at the quill and parchment handed to her by the tomb keeper, Vanna took a shallow breath to settle her emotions.

“How long can I go in for?” She lifted her gaze, meeting the eyes of the tomb keeper with a firm determination.

The mummy-like figure tilted his head slightly, exuding an aura that was neither of the living nor the dead. “A moment, or eternity…” The icy voice replied.

This answer implied that the message to be conveyed from the tomb was brief and singular. Yet, it also suggested potential danger, even death for the listener.

Vanna nodded lightly, withdrawing her gaze from the tomb keeper. There was no room for hesitation now. She strode towards the colossal mausoleum, her steps echoed by the decaying rattle of chains behind her, signaling the tomb keeper’s presence.

Stopping in front of the massive stone slab that served as the entrance, Vanna lifted her gaze, absorbing the desolate atmosphere. This wasn’t her first time witnessing the tomb during a psionic assembly, but it was her first time having the privilege of observing it up close as a listener.

Vision 004, “Mausoleum of the Unknown King”. This ancient tomb, located in a peculiar gap between time and space, wasn’t a vision controlled by the Storm Church. Instead, it was a relic guarded and shared in rotation by various Orthodox Churches. From its exterior alone, it appeared to mimic the style of the ancient kingdom of Crete. Evidence from various texts supported this theory, but the identity of its architect remained a mystery.

What was well-known was that the tomb’s owner occasionally conveyed messages to the outside world through this ritual. As it started, a tomb keeper would choose a listener. If a suitable candidate wasn’t present in the square, a random individual would be plucked from the outside world.

During the time when Vision 004 was untamed, such “random callings” claimed hundreds, if not thousands, of lives. That was until a saint emerged a thousand years ago. This brave soul not only broke the cycle of death but also returned alive to disclose the first gift of the Nameless King: the original ranking list of anomalies and visions.

Through countless attempts and failures, the various churches eventually deciphered the sequential pattern used by Vision 004. Since then, this once-deadly phenomenon has become a relatively safe means of acquiring intelligence that would otherwise necessitate enormous sacrifices.

“Enter the mausoleum and prepare to listen.” The low, hoarse voice of the tomb keeper echoed behind her, rousing Vanna from her thoughts.

The sound of the stone door gradually closing, followed by the dissipation of the tomb keeper’s aura as it reintegrated into the tomb, left Vanna alone. She was now solely responsible for dealing with whatever was to come.

Pale flames flickered on both sides of the corridor leading into the tomb. As Vanna proceeded along the illuminated path, her gaze skimmed across the walls, vaguely deciphering the words apparently carved by desperate fingers:

“Go straight forward, cannot turn back.”

“Do not ask the tomb keeper for the identity and name of the tomb owner.”

“Do not run, do not shout, do not pray to any god.”

“Be humble and reverent, but do not bow down.”

“After entering the tomb, do not speak.”

These messages were remnants of countless past “listeners”. In ancient times, most who entered this graveyard perished, with only a few living long enough to leave these warnings. Vanna had memorized every line; they were lessons every saint of the church was required to learn, invaluable wisdom from their predecessors.

As she read these words, Vanna pondered a curious question. What about the messages from those who had fallen into despair? Had they not left any warnings?

Human nature is complex. Before the churches managed to control Vision 004, tomb keepers had brought hundreds, perhaps thousands of unsuspecting individuals here. Many of them were ordinary citizens, ill-equipped to withstand the vision’s cursed madness. However, Vanna could only see messages left by those of strong and resilient souls.

Confusion welled in Vanna’s heart, but she refrained from voicing her doubts to the tomb keeper. While theoretically she could talk to him without violating the mausoleum’s “rules”, she knew it wasn’t without risk. The supernatural was unpredictable by its very nature.

After a deep sigh to steady herself, she continued her journey to the end of the corridor. A vast, antiquated burial chamber unfolded before her eyes.

In the massive, pyramid-like room, pale stone walls sloped on all sides, carved with indistinct patterns. Two rows of black-brown metal braziers flanked the entrance, each housing a pale white flame emitting a hazy grey smoke. In the room’s center, instead of a coffin, there sat a stone throne with its peculiar occupant.

The figure was a headless body, seemingly male based on its stature. Chains bound his limbs; his arms and chest were covered with thick black hair, and his feet were deformed and twisted. Black scorch marks suggested that the body had endured severe burns over the years.

The body sat quietly on the throne, appearing unresponsive to Vanna’s arrival.

Remembering her training, Vanna swiftly readied her parchment and quill at the sight of the “Nameless King”. One part of her prepared to transcribe the forthcoming message, while the other part braced for potential mental intrusion.

Suddenly, Vanna jerked open her eyes.

Somehow, she was now lying on her back outside the tomb, gazing upward at the familiar crumbling pillars, the chaotic sky, and the approaching shadows of her peers.

“You’re awake. Leave now,” instructed the tomb keeper’s hoarse voice from beside her. His tall, mummy-like figure began to retreat into the tomb, followed by the loud rumble of the mausoleum sinking back into the ground.

Before Vanna could grasp what was happening, her peers had reached her side. The most prominent among them, Bishop Valentine, offered her support: “Vanna, are you alright? I saw you emerge from the mausoleum and collapse at the entrance…”

“I…” Vanna stuttered, struggling to find her footing. Her body still felt drained, but vitality was swiftly returning, helping her to regain her clarity. “How long was I in there?”

“Only an instant,” replied one of the saintly shadows, “you entered the tomb, the gate closed, and then you emerged immediately.”

Surprised, Vanna sought confirmation from Bishop Valentine, whose question reaffirmed the saint’s statement: “What about the parchment? Did you manage to write down what you heard?”

“Oh, the parchment!” Now fully awake, Vanna quickly realized she still held the parchment. However, as she glanced at its contents, her expression froze.

Only a corner of the original parchment remained intact, a mere few centimeters long. The few scrawled words read: “Anomaly 099 – puppet doll.”