Deep Sea Embers

The second ‘troublesome’ anomaly was related to an individual, specifically the female gatekeeper, Agatha.

Lately, Duncan had noticed disturbances in the marker he had earlier implanted on the heavily bandaged woman. Amidst these interferences, Agatha’s energy signature had considerably weakened multiple times, and her location started to exhibit the same murky and warped characteristics as the White Oak. When Duncan endeavored to remotely check on Agatha’s status, he was taken aback to discover that her aura would occasionally vanish entirely within the city limits.

Two puzzling markers, pertaining to a ship and a person, situated in different locations, yet displaying parallel anomalies, unquestionably merited further investigation.

Given the circumstances, he decided to conduct a personal inquiry into the matter as darkness fell. There was no immediate clue concerning the White Oak’s whereabouts, however, Agatha’s marker, despite its sporadic movement within Frost, should be relatively nearby.

Duncan cast a glance downwards at Shirley, who was observing her surroundings with intrigued eyes beside him.

Involving Dog, a shadow demon, could prove advantageous due to its enhanced perception abilities. If any adherents of the Annihilation Cult were active in the vicinity, it would likely be capable of sensing their distinctive ‘kindred’ aura.

As night draped over the city, gas lamps lining the roads were illuminated. The occasional sounds of night patrol whistles and distant dog barks were faintly audible, punctuating the rhythmic sounds of the distant ocean waves.

During the curfew, the streets were bereft of life and bore a chilling atmosphere. Not even the sporadic light trickling from the buildings could thaw the frosty chill of winter. Guided under such conditions, Duncan navigated Shirley through another alley, and in his supernatural ‘vision’, the glowing cluster symbolizing Agatha was still erratically moving not far away.

“Mr. Duncan, do you think the gatekeeper, if she spots me… will she attack me with a sword?” Shirley chattered nervously, referencing the way Vanna treated heretics.

“Gatekeepers don’t use swords,” Duncan replied nonchalantly, “I’ve heard from Vanna that they wield specially crafted battle staffs and utilize divine arts sourced from the realm of death to confront heretics.”

Shirley visibly recoiled at this information and fell quiet.

However, Duncan barely registered the girl’s reaction. After they turned into a narrow street, he abruptly came to a stop.

Shirley came to a sudden stop alongside him, surveying their surroundings with an air of acute alertness. “Have you detected something? Is the gatekeeper somewhere nearby?” she asked apprehensively.

“…She’s not merely nearby, she’s right here,” Duncan said, his voice steady and his gaze methodically scanning the entirety of the alleyway, “And it appears she has been here for quite some time.”

“She’s here?!” Shirley exclaimed, her eyes expanding with surprise. As if touched by an icy breeze, she stared ahead, her anxiety escalating. “Where, where… I can’t see her. Dog, can you detect her?”

“I can’t discern anything,” Dog’s voice emerged from the surrounding shadows, sounding subdued and muffled. “I can’t visually spot anyone, nor can I sense any presence.”

“Even Dog can’t identify her?” Duncan’s brow creased slightly. In front of him, a small cluster of flames signifying Agatha flickered silently a few meters away, its glow faint and ghostly.

The gatekeeper was indeed present – she had been reposing in this spot.

Duncan slowly advanced towards the spot where the spectral flames were located, only to halt his steps.

“Agatha” seemed to have perceived something; the cluster of flames surged abruptly as he neared, then swiftly shifted in another direction.

Duncan raised his head, casting his gaze in the direction where the cluster of flames was relocating in his sensory perception. Suddenly, a transient shadow on the glass window of a nearby building attracted his attention.

He observed a blurred figure dart across the glass surface, the silhouette vaguely reminiscent of Agatha.

Shirley, who had also been inspecting their surroundings, spotted the shadow. Her shock was almost enough to elicit a scream, but she swiftly clamped her hand over her mouth. After the shadow had passed, she swiveled towards Duncan, her voice quivering, “I just saw a shadow!”

“I noticed it too. It was reflected in the window,” Duncan responded in a resonant voice, his gaze still placidly fixed ahead. In a realm invisible to Shirley, he was persistently observing that cluster of flames — the flames had traversed the alley, flickered at the corner ahead, and then reversed direction.

He squinted slightly as if visualizing Agatha’s situation in his mind.

It appeared as though she was attempting to extricate herself from some form of predicament. She could potentially be injured or immensely fatigued. She had briefly rested here before proceeding towards the upper part of the city. Something seemed to have temporarily impeded her at the junction, but it was insufficient to halt her progress.

Duncan opened his eyes, his gaze once again resting on the glass window not far off. The polished window glass no longer captured Agatha’s figure, merely reflecting the indistinct image of a distant street lamp.

“Reflection…” Duncan murmured to himself, “Fascinating…”

“Eh?” Shirley wore a look of confusion. “What’s happening? Did you figure something out?”

“Potentially,” Duncan replied, his voice carrying an undertone of ambiguity. He then approached the glass window and lightly snapped his fingers.

A petite cluster of flames kindled at his fingertips, casting a warm glow on his form.

He turned his gaze towards the window and observed his flame being replicated. The reflected light seemed to possess an ethereal life of its own, silently burning in the mirror realm.

Shirley watched Duncan’s actions with a befuddled expression, then saw him nonchalantly swipe his hand, extinguishing the flame at his fingertips. Yet, a soft green radiance continued to flicker in her line of sight.

Shirley’s mouth gradually fell open in astonishment at the sight unfolding before her: After Duncan had dispersed the flames in his grasp, the flame mirrored in the glass window did not exhibit any signs of fading — the reflected flame continued to burn in tranquility, as if it possessed a separate existence thriving within the mirror!

“What… what’s happening?!” Shirley pointed at the flame in the glass window, stammering towards Duncan, “Why does the flame persist…”

“A mirrored Frost,” Duncan slowly swiveled his head, a touch of amusement tingeing his voice, “is gradually amalgamating with the real-world Frost — a marvelous concept, to my mind, teeming with inventiveness.”

“Mirrored…” Shirley barely comprehended, but she still instinctively echoed the word, “You mean there’s a Frost within the mirror? Has that ‘gatekeeper’ ventured into the mirror world?”

“Not entirely precise, but you could interpret it that way,” Duncan responded serenely, shifting his gaze back to the undisturbed flame reflection still ablaze in the mirror, “There’s a minor fracture here, but it’s inadequate.”

“Inadequate?” Shirley blinked in puzzlement.

“I require a more exact location, a stronger link,” Duncan slowly extended his hand, his fingertip making contact with the spectral fire in the mirror, “To ignite the world residing beyond the mirror, this meager flame isn’t sufficient. But…”

He paused, withdrawing his finger.

The phantom flame mirrored in the glass flickered abruptly, then plunged into the somber depths, leaving behind only a faint trace of ghostly green stretching into the distance.

“That should suffice to lend Agatha a hand.”

…

How many counterfeits crafted from “primal elements” had she obliterated? How many “avatars” of the blond youth had she shattered? After surpassing the four-digit threshold, Agatha lost interest in maintaining the tally.

The sole fact she was certain of was that the heretic had spoken the truth about one matter — she was indeed ensnared in this peculiar world with seemingly no imminent prospects of escape.

The sky held a muted shade, and the clouds swarmed chaotically. In this version of “Frost” devoid of sunlight, the distinction between day and night had become elusive. Only the subtle shifts in luminosity filtering through the cloud cover and the glow emanating from the gas street lamps provided an indication that the shroud of night had descended.

Agatha weaved her way through a narrow alleyway, her pace brisk as she strived to maintain her calm breath and mend her physical and mental injuries.

Her black coat bore the brunt of relentless battles, suffering damage at several locations. The underlying combat soft armor too was severely battered, revealing her shoulders, flanks, and other areas. Her bandages and skin beneath were visible, tainted with trickles of blood seeping through.

To be fair, the adversary wasn’t particularly formidable. Even the “avatars” employed by the blond heretic didn’t pose a significant threat to Agatha, a powerful gatekeeper. They only required a few minutes of effort to eliminate.

But their numbers were unending.

The entire city served as their “material” and “backup troops” for regeneration. Conventional combat methods were rendered entirely ineffectual in this scenario.

As Agatha navigated the alley, she swiftly performed calculations in her mind.

Simultaneously, she recollected the eerie and frightening sensation she had experienced a few minutes prior.

She had been taking a brief respite in a shadowy alley when a horrifying presence abruptly invaded her senses. The pressure was so intense that it felt as though her heart had ceased to beat for a few fleeting seconds.

In that instant, she had hastily abandoned her sanctuary without much deliberation. But upon reflection, that daunting presence didn’t seem to originate from this bizarre forgery city.

“What… what could it have been?”