The Titanic's decks stretched endlessly into the mist, the sounds of creaking wood and distant music blending with the whispers of the dark sea. The group moved cautiously, the heavy air pressing down on them as they passed elegantly dressed civilians strolling as if on a luxury cruise. Despite the shadowy tinge of the enforcers' uniforms and the haunting glow of the iceberg drifting alongside, the passengers laughed, danced, and chatted like nothing was amiss.
Kieran glanced uneasily at a young boy clutching a toy ship, his mother leading him toward a gilded staircase. "How… how can they be so normal?" he muttered.
Rowan, walking just ahead, cast a sharp glance over her shoulder. "Because they're not normal. Look at them—no fear, no questions. They're just… happy."
Amara, her stance poised but wary, added, "It's unsettling, isn't it? Like they know something we don't."
As if on cue, a trio of enforcers in naval garb stepped into view near the ship's grand ballroom. They held instruments, their movements precise yet almost mechanical as they began to play. The familiar strains of "Nearer, My God, to Thee" floated through the air, chilling in its beauty.
Kieran squinted. "Wait… isn't that—?"
"The band from the Titanic," Rowan interrupted, her tone flat. "The ones who kept playing until the end."
Sylva floated closer, her light dimming slightly. "Their choice to remain and play as the ship sank became a beacon of hope. Here, they carry on their purpose endlessly, in this fragment."
"They're enforcers now?" Aiden asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Not all darkness is evil," a low voice interjected.
The group turned to Captain Edward J. Smith, his gold-trimmed naval coat shifting subtly with shadows. His hat bore the insignia of a ship's wheel, faintly glowing crimson. Behind him, an enforcer walked by, murmuring to a civilian.
Kieran stepped forward. "Hey—what's the deal with this place? And what's with the... cycles?"
The enforcer paused, tilting his head slightly before answering in an even tone. "We sink, we rise, and it all begins again. The ship follows its course, as it always has. It's the will of the Core."
Rowan's spear clicked against the deck as she gripped it tighter. "You're saying you all know this happens? Over and over?"
The enforcer simply nodded before moving away.
Smith stepped closer, his presence commanding. "Yes. They know. And they accept it."
"That's insane," Rowan snapped. "How can you just… accept sinking over and over?"
Smith's crimson-tinted eyes locked onto hers. "Because it's our choice. To protect these people, to offer them solace even in darkness. This ship may sink, but it remains a sanctuary in the shadow."
Aiden frowned, his ring flickering faintly. "And you think that makes it okay? Just… going through the motions forever?"
Smith's voice softened. "It's not about the cycle, boy. It's about what you do within it. Darkness doesn't define you—it's the choices you make that matter. Even in despair, you can find light."
Sylva floated closer, her glow brightening slightly. "Not all fragments are so fortunate. Captain Smith and his crew have created something rare here: a place of balance, even amidst the Core's influence."
Smith regarded her for a moment, his tone calm but firm. "Balance is not enough. You understand emotion, Sylva, but the Core feels it. It thrives on it. Light and dark are not enemies—they're forces in a constant dance. Your rigidity, your static nature, can't see the beauty in that."
Sylva's glow dimmed, but she said nothing.
The group continued toward the captain's cabin, passing a bustling dining hall filled with passengers enjoying lavish meals. Civilians laughed and toasted, their faces alight with joy that seemed out of place on the doomed vessel.
"It's like they don't even know," Kieran muttered.
"They know," Smith said. "But happiness, even fleeting, is better than despair. That's a choice too."
---
In the Captain's Cabin
The cabin was richly adorned, its polished wood and gold accents gleaming faintly in the dim light. A large desk sat at the center, covered in maps and navigational tools. An enforcer quietly entered, setting down a tray of tea with precise movements before stepping back into the shadows.
Smith gestured for the group to sit. "Drink. You've been through much, and this will help steady you."
Rowan eyed the cups warily. "Yeah, I don't trust that."
To everyone's surprise, Sylva floated forward and picked up a cup, sipping it without hesitation. "There's no danger," she said, her tone calm.
After a brief pause, the group followed suit, sipping cautiously. Aiden's fingers lingered on his cup longer than the others.
Smith leaned back, his shadow stretching unnaturally across the room. "You've all felt the Core's pull. Its whispers, its promises. You need to understand: the Core is not simply destruction. It is evolution. Creativity. It is emotion unbound, constantly shifting and adapting."
"And what's Sylva, then?" Aiden asked, his voice laced with bitterness.
"Order," Smith replied simply. "A constant, unchanging light. Sylva understands emotion, but the Core feels it—every despair, every joy. They are two sides of the same force."
Amara frowned. "So what does that make us? Pawns in their game?"
Smith shook his head. "No. You are the bridge. Your weapons, your powers—they're born of imagination, of emotion. That's why the whispers grow louder when you innovate. Sylva can enchant, but the spark of creation? That's the Core's influence."
The group sat in stunned silence, processing the revelation. Finally, Rowan stood. "I need air," she muttered, heading for the door. Kieran followed her without a word, and Amara lingered a moment before leaving as well.
---
Aiden and Smith: A Private Conversation
Smith leaned forward, his gaze steady. "You didn't leave."
Aiden glanced at the door, then back at the captain. "Didn't see the point. Everyone else is trying to wrap their heads around… whatever this is."
"And you?"
"I don't know what to think anymore," Aiden admitted, his voice low. "Sylva, the Core—it's like every step we take just makes everything worse."
Smith studied him for a moment before speaking. "I overheard your conversation with Sylva earlier. She's right about one thing: your imagination makes you powerful. But it's also what's destroying you."
Aiden's ring pulsed faintly, a mix of light and shadow swirling within. "I can handle it."
Smith shook his head. "No, you can't. Not yet. You're fighting yourself because you don't understand the balance within you. Sylva can't teach you that."
"And you can?" Aiden asked, his tone skeptical.
"I can teach you to stop fearing the darkness," Smith said. "To embrace it, to shape it without letting it consume you. The question is: do you trust me?"
Aiden hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ring. The whispers clawed at his thoughts, urging him to refuse, to strike out. But something in Smith's calm demeanor gave him pause.
Finally, he nodded. "I'll do it."
Smith's expression didn't change, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good. Then let's begin."
Aiden reached for the tea on the table, finishing the last sip before setting the cup down. The warmth spread through him, comforting at first, but then it became heavier, dragging at his limbs. His vision blurred, and the whispers he had been holding back grew louder, more insistent.
"Smith," Aiden said, his voice sluggish. "What's… what's in the tea?"
Smith leaned back, his shadow curling around him like a cloak. "A gentle sedative. You've been fighting yourself for too long, boy. It's time you see what you're truly up against."
Aiden tried to stand, but his legs gave out, and he slumped back into the chair. The room spun, and the last thing he saw before his eyes closed was Smith's crimson-tinted gaze watching him with quiet resolve.
Aiden stood in the middle of a vast, endless void. The ground beneath his feet rippled like liquid shadow, yet it was firm enough to hold him. He glanced around, disoriented, the whispers now deafening. Then he saw it—a figure standing across from him within the dream.
It was himself.
But not entirely. This Aiden was darker, his ring pulsing with a pure, unfiltered black light. His expression was calm, almost serene, but his eyes burned with a crimson glow. He raised a hand, gesturing for Aiden to approach.
"Welcome," the other Aiden said, his voice smooth and unsettlingly familiar. "We've been waiting for you."