In Chapter 159, Pandora performed psychometry on the central bunk chamber of the submerged Aurora:
First, she saw the deck of the Aurora as it was before it had been scuttled, looking just like it looked the two times they had all viewed it through Dabwick’s Scrying sensor.
Captain Libo and First Mate Pera were standing on deck, supervising as the rest of the crew tied the ship off and made it safe. They looked out over Cassomir, glowing bright in the dusk light from tens of thousands of lanterns and torches lit up and down the hillsides, and the relief Libo and Pera felt was all-consuming.
We made it.
They’d almost stopped believing the trip would ever end. And what an odd thing to feel given that… well, given that nothing had really happened. The Count had basically just sat there the whole time. Barely spoke. Barely moved, in fact. Except for that weird stroking of his neck under his hood. But the energy coming off of him had been bone-chilling. Palpable. Just… wrong.
And there was this feeling they’d all carried with them for the past several months of being watched. They didn’t know by what. But they couldn’t shake it. And they all felt it. Everyone was off. Everyone kept their head down and their mouth shut. It was months of basically everyone just silently praying, day after day, for the trip to be over.
But, at long last, they made it. End of the line. The Count will leave and our lives can finally go back to normal.
And as if summoned by the Captain’s thought, the Count appeared from below: this corpulent specter, cloaked in silence and gloom.
The crew gathered round, waiting for instructions on what to carry ashore with him. And once all eight men were near, the Count removed his glasses for the first time Captain Libo had ever known him to do so, and when he saw the man’s eyes, his heart nearly stopped in his chest.
Oh, gods. There’s nothing there except blood. This… this is not a man. What the hells is this?
And before Libo could follow his impulse to either Fight or Flee, the Count looked him in the eyes and said—loud enough for everyone to hear—“Xhamen-Dor!”
And that’s the last thing that made any worldly sense to any of those eight men. Those eight men who were soon writhing on the deck, coughing and clutching their heads. Those eight men who felt something crack open inside their skulls. Who felt an alien consciousness seep into the folds of their brains. Who sensed that something far, far away, at the bottom of a lake, had just grown larger.
PRAISE.
And the vision faded.
Pandora then saw a new scene: she was belowdecks in the Aurora now. And it was underwater.
Down the ship’s ladder floated Stazi, obviously under the effects of a Water Breathing spell. She had a coin cupped in one hand, with a Light spell cast upon it, and she was letting out just enough light to ease her way down the ladder. Silently. Cautiously. She didn’t know what she was going to find. She didn’t know what to expect. But she had her implacable Game Face on. All business.
It was pitch black down here and she couldn’t see further than a couple of inches past her hand. So after a moment of waiting in silence, she brought her hand up and slowly started to open it up more…
Then boom something bumped up against her.
She started and whipped around with her Light coin, coming face-to-face with a floating corpse. It was the captain. Neck slashed, just loosely jostling around in the water.
She waited a moment to calm her rapidly beating heart and gave the corpse a shove away from her.
Then she nearly jumped again as there was a tapping on her shoulder from above. Stifling a grunt of frustration, she looked up the ladder and saw the shape of Stanhope, also Water Breathing, who had bonked her with his morningstar in a “hey man, is it cool to come down?” gesture. She gave the weapon a sharp yank and he followed with it, floating down awkwardly into the hold.
And the Elf follows.
When they were all on their feet and Stanhope had given her the requisite “Sorry” look—which she waited for—she opened her hand all the way.
Soft light spilled into the bunk room and filled every corner.
The walls were covered in words. Words scratched and carved into the wood.
What is it? What do they say?
It looked almost like the same thing carved over and over.
What is this?
She had to know.
All three of them moved closer and closer to one of the walls and they each found a patch that was more legible than the others:
X
H
A
M
E
N
D
O
R
The coin tumbled out of Stazi’s hand and gently floated down, down, down to the deck… while Stazi and Stanhope and the priest clutched their heads and screamed in agony.
And something far, far away grew larger. Stirred, ever-so-slightly, closer to waking.
When the moment of impregnation was over, Stazi and Stanhope stared at each other in shock. And then a terrible awareness washed over Stazi’s face.
This is it. This is what they were trying to protect me from. The whole time. The whole time.
How could simply seeing these letters in this order DO this to a person? What has happened to us?
Stazi drew Winter out of its sheath and took the dagger to the wall in a frenzy, hacking and cutting, carving those letters out of any possible recognition. Cutting, cutting, cutting. She stopped long enough to kick Stanhope—who was just floating there like an idiot—in the shin. He got the message. He takes his morningstar out and joins in.
No one must EVER see what we’ve just seen.
Hacking, carving. Erasing from any possible recognition the name they will never forget for the rest of… whatever remains of their lives.
Their lives, which now belonged to the Inmost Blot.
PRAISE.
And the vision faded.
First Reference: Chapter 159
Other Notable References: —