Chapter 13 Dusk

The shooting star flying backwards gradually faded into the distance, finally disappearing from sight.

On the wide beach, only Therian, Aiden, and Agatha remained.

The "Lost Star," originating from ancient times, still floated quietly on the sand. Cloud-like streams flowed slowly across its surface, constantly emitting a faint, almost whimpering sound. Just a few dozen meters away was the calm sea—the water reflecting the pale golden sunlight like a slowly undulating mirror, its tiny waves more peaceful than usual.

In the long twilight, Therian finally broke the silence: "Gatekeeper, do you think the Church's power will be enough to maintain order among the city-states if the sun truly disintegrates completely?"

Agatha did not answer. Faced with such a sharp question, she remained silent for a long time—though if it had been a year ago, she would have given an affirmative answer without hesitation.

Agatha knew that she was not as devout and firm as before. That unconditional faith had cracked during the Frost's Mirror disaster, allowing doubt to seep in.

But after hesitating, she nodded gently. "I believe my brothers and sisters will do their best… They will too."

"An answer after deliberation is not as resolute as that of a devotee, but in this situation, it's somewhat more reassuring," Therian said slowly, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. "In any case, we will all do our best, and I imagine the other city-states will as well."

Agatha did not speak, only nodded silently. Then she turned, her figure dissolving into a swirling gale of pale wind, and disappeared with it.

Aiden had been quietly watching from the side. He hesitated before speaking, "...What are your plans now?"

"First, I want the City Hall to make all preparations possible before sunset. I want everyone in the city-state to get through the long night ahead safely. Second, order the fleet to prepare for battle. I want every warship in top condition, ready to fight no matter how long this night lasts. Third…"

Therian paused for a few seconds, looking down at the bag in his hand.

"Third, tell everyone to eat when they need to eat, sleep when they need to sleep, and live well—the builders of this city-state built it in the dark ages after the collapse of the ancient kingdom. We will definitely find a way to get through this… The end isn't here yet."

"Yes, Captain!"

Flames streaked across the sunset, leaving a fleeting bright trail in the clouds, before falling onto the slope in front of the cemetery. The spectral flames gradually dissipated, and Duncan's figure materialized from the fire.

Alice had returned to the *Vanishing Sail*. Duncan returned to the cemetery alone—he slowly walked up the slope he had walked so many times before. In the slanting, dim twilight, his shadow stretched long and swayed on the old stone path.

It was quiet. Most of the people in the city should have returned home by now. There were hardly any vehicles on the distant avenues, only a few steam walkers strolling through the streets. City Hall workers were checking streetlights and gas pipes, while black-clothed guards with lanterns were confirming the status of various "Nightfall Shelters," all looking busy.

Duncan withdrew his gaze from the distance and continued to walk slowly upwards.

He stopped at the cemetery gate.

An unexpected but familiar figure was standing outside the gate—a girl of thirteen or fourteen, wearing thick, light gray winter clothes, a furry woolen hat, and gloves, bundled up like a soft ball of yarn. She stood at the gate, occasionally stomping her feet, walking around the entrance, and looking in the direction of the slope.

It was Annie. She looked like she had been waiting there for a long time.

Duncan frowned and quickly walked towards the cemetery gate—Annie saw him too. A happy look immediately appeared on the girl's face, and she ran quickly towards the slope.

"Guardian Uncle!" Annie greeted happily, stopping at the edge of the open space at the cemetery gate. "I came over earlier and saw that there was no one in the caretaker's hut. The black-clothed guards said you had gone out…"

"Curfew is about to start. The City Hall has notified all residents to return home. Why did you run here?" Duncan frowned, his voice low and somber beneath the bandages, sounding somewhat stern and intimidating. "It's not safe outside."

"I know, I'm just about to go home," Annie immediately nodded. She wasn't afraid of Duncan's appearance, all in black, wrapped in bandages, gloomy and serious. Instead, she reached into her arms and pulled out a small package, stuffing it into Duncan's hand. "This is herbal tea… Take it, and… I probably won't be coming for a long time."

Duncan looked at the package Annie had given him with some surprise. He was silent for a few seconds before softening his tone. "Do you know what's going to happen?"

"...The sun is not right, is it?" Annie looked up, looking into Duncan's gloomy, sunken eyes. "Sunset has lasted for a long time, and it hasn't completely set yet… I heard a nun say that if the sun goes down this time, it might be a long, long time before it rises again… Mom said that the temperature might keep dropping, or it might stop halfway. The worst situation is on the farms…"

She stopped, as if the knowledge beyond that was too complicated for her, making it difficult to understand and repeat.

Duncan was silent for a while, then bent down slightly. "Are you afraid?"

Annie shook her head, but then stopped and hesitated, nodding slightly.

She didn't really understand what was happening now, nor could she really imagine what things would be like afterward—compared to the simple and direct threat of the mud monsters spreading through the city, a slowly sinking sun was a more difficult disaster for a thirteen-year-old to comprehend.

But she could feel the same tension and oppression from the adults' reactions as during the "Mirror Disaster"—she had experienced it once before.

"If the sun doesn't rise again, will we need to carry lanterns and have runes tattooed on our eyelids to go out?" Annie asked. "Like those ascetic monks—they always stay in dark places…"

Duncan didn't know how to answer that question for a moment. He thought about it, and after a long time, he said softly, "...The sun will rise. If the sun doesn't rise, something else will light up the sky."

Annie didn't seem to understand, but then seemed to think of something, her eyes widening in surprise. "Is it you? Will you light up the sky?"

"...Go home," Duncan smiled, although the smile was covered by layers of bandages, only revealing a slight curve at the corner of his eye. He reached out and brushed off some dust that had somehow gotten on Annie's clothes, while also looking up at the now somewhat dim glow on the distant rooftops. "It's getting dark—and thank you for the herbal tea."

"Okay!"

It was getting dark—although that might still take a while.

Outside the antique shop's window, the remaining glory of the sunset was already somewhat dim—but it still didn't seem to want to completely darken.

Duncan withdrew his gaze from the northern cemetery slope, where he had been watching Annie leave. His gaze passed through the old shop window, looking at Preland Street in the evening.

The street was already empty. Even the noisiest children had been taken home by their parents. The always crowded and lively streets of the lower city now seemed deserted, as if it had become a ghost town.

But then a steam walker broke the silence outside the window—accompanied by the clacking of the steam engine, the huge spider machine slowly walked through the street. Steam hissed from the exhaust port at the rear of the walker, and scripture banners hanging on both sides of its armored plates fluttered in the wind. Two guardians in Deep Sea Church uniforms stood on the back of the walker, announcing the "Nightfall Proclamation" just issued by the Cathedral—including the new curfew order and the city's functional adjustments during the night.

Even after the Black Sun event and having a safe night, the city-state of Preland was now shrouded in an atmosphere of tension.

Because no one knew if the city's "safe night" would remain so safe after the night was extended to tens of days, and no one knew if something else would breed in the dark sea due to the prolonged absence of sunlight, climbing onto the beach and invading the city-state during the night.

If Preland was like this, what would the other city-states on the boundless sea be like now?

In the increasingly dim sunset, Duncan's thoughts couldn't help but wander. Then he put down the newspaper in his hand and prepared to get up and turn on the light near the stairs.

Just then, a… figure suddenly appeared in the corner of his eye.

Next to a shelf in the corner of the antique shop's first floor, the figure appeared abruptly—like a traveler with a hunched back, who had been walking for who knows how long during a long journey. He wore a worn white robe that had lost its original shape. His body was leaning slightly forward, and he walked step by step towards the counter.

Duncan slowly stood up, staring fixedly at the figure walking towards him.

However, the figure didn't seem to see Duncan. He seemed to be walking in another parallel dimension, his gaze focused on a distant and invisible place. He walked straight through the shelves, slowly moving forward like a ghost.

During this process, Duncan finally gradually saw the traveler's face clearly—he saw an old face, with deep wrinkles and almost withered skin, like frozen time. But suddenly, that old face regained its youth, becoming like that of a young man just embarking on a journey, and even his hunched posture straightened up.

The next second, he turned into an old man again, his figure passing through the counter, about to brush past Duncan.

But abruptly, he stopped.

He seemed to see Duncan—or just saw an illusory figure. He stopped, stiff all over, his eyes wide, staring straight at him.

Duncan found that he couldn't even discern a real emotion from that trembling face—was it surprise? Was it fear? Was it despair? Or was it suddenly seeing hope?

It was as if all the emotions a person could have were compressed into this brief gaze—the dusty traveler stared at him fixedly, and then his figure gradually dissipated.