In the outermost reaches of a shattered continent, amidst a vast expanse of darkness, a massive giant tasked with supporting the land noticed a spectral ship gliding by. This ancient deity, long dead, stirred its large, clouded eye. Briefly roused from an eternal sleep, the eye flickered to life, observing the intruders in its realm.

Duncan watched the eye closely, his body tensing progressively. Despite his immunity to mental corruption, the overwhelming sight pressed heavily upon him, almost suffocating him. Nonetheless, he maintained his composure, choosing not to react to the giants gaze. Silently, he allowed the Vanished to continue past the immense figure, observing as the giants eye reached its tracking limit and slowly disappeared from view as the ship moved on.

The vast, pale, one-eyed giant remained still, perpetually bearing the continent on its back, drifting quietly in the endless void.

Suddenly, the Skull of Dreams spoke from behind Duncan: The giant was the first to die.

Duncan swiftly turned, fixing his gaze on the artifact resting on a table.

What did you say? he asked for clarification.

The giant was the first to die, the Dream Skull repeated, its tone and message unchanged. Despite further probing by Duncan, it disclosed no additional details.

Realizing that this was all the information the fragment of the ancient deity would provide, Duncan ceased his inquiries. He thoughtfully turned back to the fading figure of the colossal giant, murmuring, Among the disintegrating stars, on the first long night, the King of the Pale Giants met his end

As he spoke the name King of the Pale Giants, a faint sound stirred in the infinite darkness beyond the porthole, briefly flaring before fading like a breeze.

Duncan glanced once more in the direction of the solitary-eyed giant, his expression thoughtful. After a brief pause, he moved toward the door of the captains cabin.

He took one last look at the Skull of Dreams on the navigation table.

Ignoring the unsettling gaze directed at him, Duncan exited the captains cabin.

He ascended the slanted staircase to the helm above the captains cabin, crossing the desolate, uneven deck. At the helm, the large steering wheel stood, subtly moving against the dark backdrop of subspace.

Approaching the dark, formidable wheel, Duncan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the challenge ahead.

Duncan was about to embark on a bold adventure piloting the battered Vanished through the unknowable subspace was just the beginning.

With his nerves calmed, he grasped the wheel firmly, unleashing a powerful force of fire.

In an instant, a blaze burst forth, invisible yet tangible, swiftly enveloping the ship in a spectral firestorm that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared into the void. Duncan felt an immediate expansion of his senses, accompanied by a weird and familiar sense of void as the flames died down.

He could feel the inherent nature of the Vanished anew, its spectral essence, as if the flames were a direct manifestation within subspace, interacting solely with the cold, empty void.

This time, however, Duncan was prepared. He maintained his grip on the fiery power, unfazed by the unsettling sensation of emptiness. Ignoring the eerie feeling of being unshielded and adrift in subspace, he focused more intently on the wheel, striving to give it tangible substance to control the ethereal vessel.

Beneath the wheel, creaks and groans emerged, signifying life. The entire ghost ship began to quiver subtly, its invisible sails catching an unseen wind. Cheers, as if from distant realms, echoed around him, seemingly from nowhere.

The captain had resumed command.

Duncan gently steered the wheel, guiding the ghost ship, now adrift in darkness, to start tilting slightly, obediently changing its course under his direction.

A sense of awe and triumph surged within him as he successfully steered the ghostly ship through the intricacies of subspace, finding it even smoother and more intuitive than navigating in the physical realm.

The Vanished executed a sweeping 180-degree turn in the void, aligning itself with a celestial fragment that appeared torn from a planet. The pale, one-eyed giant once again came into view as Duncan steered the ship back towards the ancient god.

As they approached the giant, its murky, solitary eye came to life again, silently watching Duncan in the darkness.

Duncan remained unfazed by this silent observation from their previous encounter, he knew the giants gaze had no effect on him. Instead of feeling apprehensive, he felt a growing curiosity about what new insights might be revealed.

The Vanished slowly approached the giants face, the murky eye becoming increasingly dominant in Duncans view, eventually filling an entire side of the ship.

Duncan brought the ship to a stop, released the wheel, and walked to the side of the ship to examine the eye more closely.

The giants eye, decayed and veiled in a layer of pale mist, shifted slightly, its empty pupil turning towards him. In its misty surface, Duncan saw his own reflection, distorted and ghostly.

What are you looking at? he whispered, driven by a mysterious urge.

No reply came the giant was truly dead. The motion of its eye seemed to be just residual motion, a lingering mechanical twitch of the ancient deity after its death, or perhaps a slight shudder of the immense corpse, creating a deceptive semblance of life.

A thought struck Duncan then, a phrase that captured the eerie scene before him: in the fading glow of embers after all life has ceased, the lifeless forms of ancient gods reign over the ashes of the world.

Even in their death, these ancient deities, spanning across ages, continued to display a form of activity. Their demise was a peculiar, ineffable state. Whether shattered into countless pieces like Goathead or twisted into unfathomable shapes, this activity seemed destined to persist indefinitely.

Duncan didnt fully understand the essence of these gods or ancient kings, their present existence, or their true nature. Yet, through this encounter with the Pale Giant King, he felt he was gradually nearing some profound truth.

Then, Duncans attention sharpened, thinking he had noticed something within the giants mist-covered, murky eye. Hidden images seemed to lurk there.

Leaning closer, Duncan peered more intently into the clouded reflection, trying to distinguish clear images from the vague shadows shaped by time. Gradually, a vision began to take shape.

First, he made out a colossal figure with the visage of a majestic sea creature, exuding a regal aura. This figure stood prominently, followed by a humanoid shape enveloped in flames. Behind these two appeared faintly glowing objects arranged neatly on a vast cube

Among these images, there was also the silhouette of a giant draped in a black robe, resembling a decayed corpse. Its form was twisted and indescribable, like a dark cloud overshadowing the others, casting ominous shadows. It had tall, crooked limbs adorned with thorny growths, with subtle golden arcs of light flickering

These mysterious, spectral figures were reflected in the giants solitary eye, each with its unique, bizarre form, silently revolving in the darkness.

Duncan gazed in awe at these figures, which, even as mere reflections, seemed to radiate immense power. It took him almost half a minute to grasp what he was seeing the pantheon, the images of the Ancient Kings.

The scene reflected in the giants eye belonged to a long-lost era a time between the Great Annihilation and the Deep Sea Era, during a certain night in ancient years. These regal entities had gathered here, standing in solemn silence around the giant, their visages eternally captured in its murky eye.

It was a memorial.

The image in the giants eye captured a moment from an ancient time: it was the aftermath of the Pale Giant Kings death at the dawn of creation, a solemn occasion where gods gathered to say their goodbyes.

Duncans mind raced, making numerous connections. He tried to match the figures in the giants eye with the legends known in the mortal world, integrating this with the knowledge he had recently acquired. It struck him that, beyond the four recognized gods and a few ancient deities, many entities in the reflection were unknown in current times.

Indeed, more than half of these figures were completely unfamiliar to him, absent from both mainstream historical records and the obscure, sometimes heretical myths of ancient pagan cultures.

Duncan stood in contemplative silence.

If each deity represented a once-mighty civilization that had survived the catastrophic destruction of their world, then it seemed that more than half of these Ancient Gods had silently vanished before the dawn of the third long night. Their very existence, let alone their names, had not been preserved, not even in the obscure Book of Blasphemy.

Ironically, those like the Pale Giant King and the King of Dreams, who perished in the era of creation, were the more fortunate among these forgotten rulers.

Duncan exhaled a soft sigh and stepped back, preparing to leave this place filled with ancient memories. However, in his reflective moment, he noticed another detail. His own image was reflected in the giants solitary eye, among the visages of the Ancient Kings, as if frozen in the eternal flow of time. There was a space there, perfectly sized for him, neither too large nor too small. It seemed as though a place had been reserved for him as if predestined since those distant ages ago when these beings had come together to mourn the Pale Giant King.