When Agatha began to share her observations, Duncans initial response was a fleeting yet deliberate sideways glance towards the bedroom door a short distance away from him. It was as if he was half-expecting to see some manifestation of what they were talking about or perhaps looking for a sign. He then redirected his focus to the ornate mirror hanging on the wall before him. In the mirror, he saw the reflection of Agatha, this former gatekeeper who now served as a trusted advisor. His face hardened into a solemn expression as he questioned, So youre telling me that the ships reflection isnt merely limited to appearing on the oceans surface?

Agatha responded with an intense sincerity, Exactly, its not just a simple, physical reflection shimmering on the sea. The ship also casts a metaphysical shadow that extends into the spirit realm. These two manifestations are typically deeply entwined, influencing one another. Late last night, as part of my standard duties monitoring the well-being of the ship and its crew, I was phasing through a network of mirrors scattered throughout the ship. During this surveillance, I stumbled upon an unanticipated situation. Initially, I considered that it might be some unique attribute of the Vanished, given that I dont have a comprehensive understanding of its capabilities or characteristics.

Shaking his head dismissively, Duncan interjected, No, that cant be it. From what I know, the Vanished doesnt exhibit such characteristics. A metaphysical shadow of the ship wouldnt simply dissipate without any discernible cause. When did you first notice this anomaly? And for how long did it last?

Agatha quickly nodded her agreement, Based on my internal sense of timing, it appears to have occurred during the same period you were speaking ofthe Dream of the Nameless One. The disappearance of the shadow persisted until the earliest rays of the dawn broke over the horizon.

Duncan went quiet, seemingly lost in a sea of contemplation. His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed as he processed Agathas revelations. His face seemed to darken as he sunk deeper into his thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Agatha elaborated further, When the shadow of the Vanished disappeared, I was actively navigating the mirrors in the material world. Normally, these mirrors serve as conduits, allowing me to effortlessly transition into either the spirit realm or view the ships oceanic reflection. However, these pathways abruptly ceased to exist last night, and the ships shadow disappeared. Oddly enough, it didnt feel as though the realm beyond the mirror had disappeared. Rather, it felt as if an inexplicable, impenetrable barrier had suddenly manifested, blocking my access. This barrier prevented me from visualizing any paths within the mirror and also obstructed my sense of what lay beyond.

Duncans eyes lit up as if a complex puzzle had suddenly become clear to him. So youre positing that the shadow of the Vanished didnt actually disappear but transformed into a state that was beyond your realm of comprehension or observation? Like some sort of perceptual barrier had been erected, locking you out and restricting you to the corporeal world?

Agatha seemed to exhale a sigh of relief. Exactly, youve captured it perfectly. I was concerned that my description was too abstract, requiring a lot of effort to make you understand.

Duncan shrugged it off. Ive had my fair share of experiences with different kinds of metaphysical veils in both the lands of Pland and Frost. Then, pausing to weigh his next words, he cast another thoughtful glance towards the nearby bedroom door. What intrigues me is that you only began to suspect that something was amiss after overhearing my discussion with Goathead. It seems that my first mate neglected to inform me of any such unusual events occurring last night.

Agatha spoke cautiously, her voice filled with a hint of uncertainty and hesitation. I cant say exactly why things are developing in this manner, but theoretically, Goathead should be able to detect changes or shifts in the spiritual realm. Although Goatheads perceptual abilities may not be as precise as my own, it should still have some level of awareness of spiritual fluctuations. This is particularly important to consider given the new information youve shared with me: the existence of another entity also referred to as Goathead, and its puzzling and suspicious activities.

Duncan sighed softly, as if releasing a burden, before responding, So, what youre suggesting is that Goathead might not be a trustworthy source of information any longer because it could be deliberately keeping information from me.

Selecting her words carefully and filled with genuine worry, Agatha replied, I understand that it may not be my place to question the wisdom or observations of someone as senior as the first mate. However, in my prior role as a gatekeeper to the spiritual realm, Ive honed a specific skill set, becoming highly sensitive or alert to irregularities in situations like this. Often, disastrous events have started with subtle signs that something was off, something wasnt as it should be.

Duncan listened closely, neither rashly agreeing nor immediately dismissing her viewpoints.

After some thoughtful reflection, Duncan finally spoke up, I see two possible explanations for whats happening here. The first is that Goathead is aware of the mysterious events aboard the Vanished last night but has chosen not to share that information with me. For whatever reason, that would be intentional deception. The second possibility is that even Goathead is not aware of these recent changes.

Agatha quickly grasped the implications and was about to speak when Duncan interrupted her, his voice laden with concern. If the latter scenario is true, it means that an unknown force is affecting this ship, a force that has influenced Goathead as well. You, on the other hand, were unaffected, which is why you were able to perceive the strange occurrences on the ship last night.

..

Alice was bustling about in the ships kitchen, humming a tune, the name of which she couldnt recall. Despite the turbulence and chaos that often defined life at sea, she found these days aboard the ship to be some of her happiest.

Everything she was familiar with was right here: the comforting feel of the wooden deck under her feet, the rustic kitchen filled with well-used pots, pans, utensils, and other everyday tools like buckets, knives, and spatulas. She found solace in these inanimate objects, often finding their company more enjoyable than navigating the complexities of human interactions from diverse city-states.

For Alice, understanding social norms and expectations among humans was mentally draining. It required her to learn a multitude of subtle cues, remember a vast amount of information, and adhere to an array of unspoken rules that made socializing a strenuous affair. She often felt that human beings were like delicate glass sculptures held together by fragile threads that extended out from the physical body. A single misstep could result in devastating consequences.

However, the ships captain took the intricacies of human interaction very seriously. He was concerned that Alice, with her straightforward and uncomplicated nature, might unintentionally cause serious harm by mishandling these delicate threads. For Alice, balancing her innate tendencies with the captains expectations proved to be a minor yet genuine challenge.

On the ship, Alice usually navigated her daily challenges with ease and grace. She knew how to move about carefully among her onboard friendsthe various utensils and objectsbeing cautious not to interact with them in a way that would disrupt their individual quirks and complexities.

This was a source of comfort for her. She relished the tangible, predictable environment that the ship offered her. The consistency and routine were reassuring and familiar like a warm blanket on a cold night.

Alice removed the lid from a barrel filled with pickled fish and leaned over to take a deep sniff. A contented smile spread across her face as the familiar, briny aroma wafted up. No one aboard the Vanished, not even the captain, could fathom why a puppet like her possessed the ability to smell. Alice herself didnt fully understand this sensory gift she had, but she saw no need to ponder the mystery.

Feeling delighted with what she considered to be another culinary victory, Alice reached for a wooden basin to begin scooping out some of the preserved fish. However, just as her hand approached the contents, a long-handled spoon that had been lying idle on a nearby counter suddenly animated itself and whacked her arm with a quick flick.

Emitting a small, startled yelp, Alice swiftly retracted her hand. I washed my hands! I just washed them! she defended herself, her voice tinged with incredulity.

The spoon seemed to waggle in the air at the rim of the barrel as if expressing its skepticism or disapproval.

Exasperated, Alice rolled her eyes and retorted, Youre incredibly stubborn, you know that?

The spoon paused in mid-air as if inviting her to continue her complaint.

Sighing in resignation, Alice said, Alright, fine, as she reached for the spoons handle. She mumbled to herself, All this fuss over that one time I accidentally dropped my head into the barrel while leaning in. I mean, really

With the spoon now obediently in her hand, she scooped some pickled fish into her basin, casually chatting with her kitchen friends as she went about her tasks. Sometimes, shed spill the latest gossip or share tidbits from the various city-states they visited; other times, she would relay anecdotes or concerns about the captain.

Alice then moved to check the remaining food storage containers. Thanks to Ai, the Vanished was regularly stocked with fresh provisions, much of which was prepared and preserved for long journeys at sea. Pickled fish happened to be a particular favorite among the crew, and normally, it was stored in twelve separate barrels.

Starting her count at the doorway, Alice began numbering the barrels as she walked along the row one, two, three, four twelve, thirteen.

She paused, her eyes widening as confusion set in.

Regaining her composure, Alice recounted, but the tally remained the same: thirteen barrels.

Standing before the row of barrels, she found herself bewildered, contemplating if she had somehow made a counting error. Math had never been her forteindeed, she sometimes scored lower than Shirley, a fellow crew member in that area. But she quickly pushed that self-doubt aside. Counting up to twelve should be straightforward, even for her. Something was undeniably wrong. This mysterious extra barrel was an anomaly that tugged at her instincts, urging her to delve deeper and investigate the matter.

Certain of her basic arithmetic skills, Alice was confident that she hadnt made a counting error. She shook her head as if trying to clear her vision and counted the barrels once again, paying extra attention to each one.

Twelve.

The odd, extra barrel that had appeared just moments ago was now nowhere to be found. Although the barrel count now matched what it should be, an inexplicable feeling of discomfort still lingered in the pit of her stomach. She recounted the barrels multiple times, always reaching the same numbertwelve. While this consistent result brought her some measure of reassurance, it didnt entirely dispel her feeling of unease.

She turned to her collection of kitchen friends, utensils and tools that seemed to possess a rudimentary form of life due to the unique energies permeating the ship. Did anyone else see that? she asked them. It felt like there was an extra barrel here just a second ago.

Alice was fully aware that her kitchen companions werent capable of verbal communicationthey were animated objects, not creatures with high-level cognitive functions. Still, she couldnt shake off the need to consult them.

As she anticipated, there was no reply. Frustrated and growing more uneasy, she turned back to the row of barrels, patting them one by one as if expecting some kind of reaction. Was there one of you that was extra for a moment? she queried, feeling a mix of curiosity and absurdity as she talked to inanimate objects.

As before, the barrels remained silent, leaving Alice pondering the enigmatic occurrence, puzzled and more perplexed than ever.

..

Sara Mel sat at his dining table, completely agog, as he listened to Lucretia, known far and wide as the Sea Witch, unfold her narrative. So riveted was he by her account that he didnt even notice a piece of food slipping from his grasp and plopping onto the table.

At this point, he was far less concerned about the untimely invasion of the witch into his domestic sphere during breakfast time than he was about the disturbing events she described.

So, all of these inexplicable events transpired just last night? Sara Mel finally found his voice, breaking the silence.

The elven governor was struggling to absorb the avalanche of information. His initial inclination was to ask, Are you joking? However, given Lucretias reputation for being stern and unyielding, he reconsidered and decided to hold back the question.

Lucretia let out a sigh, filling the room with an atmosphere heavy with worry and significance. Before their conversation had delved into the matters of great import, the visibly anxious servants had been dismissed. Now, only Sara Mel and Lucretia remained in the room.

Your reaction merely confirms my deepest concerns, Lucretia intoned gravely, her eyes meeting Sara Mels. It seems that the far-reaching consequences of that mysterious dream are broader and more affecting than I had originally anticipated.