dredgingthedepths

[dredgingthedepths]

Reading from start to finish that was super fucking cool. Are you planning on still running this blog after?

hey, thanks for reading! i reckon if people send asks and stuff i'll answer 'em, but i think the story is about done. to be honest, when i started writing i didn't know if there would be a relatively fixed timeline to the game or if it would just keep going, so i was prepared for this to drag out a lot longer, but i think i'm happy with ending it here.

[dredgingthedepths]

Tuesday 21st June

The Lighthouse Keeper instructs me to follow the light, and once I reach its target, to do what is right for "her", and throw it back. Her… I still cannot remember this person of whom she speaks, though my heart aches for reasons I cannot explain.

Though the day seemed to pass far too quickly, the clock does not appear to move as I set out. A pillar of white light pierces the darkness, marking my destination. The sea is as quiet and clear as I have yet seen it, still blanketed with fog but devoid of the strange flickering shapes that have haunted my nights these past months.

This is the place. A voice inside my heart seems to whisper it, though I know not how it can tell. This is where she was taken from us… and where we can at last bring her back. Only here, and only because of what we've achieved. Do not waste our chance.

She… Julie. The name is at once strange and unbearably familiar. Is this what this has been about from the start? The loss of the woman who seems to have been writing messages from beyond her grave? Taken… has she been taken in an earthly sense, or has she been dragged beyond that ghastly fissure I glimpsed in my nightmares?

For a moment, I am tempted to listen, to heed the voice of the Collector, that part of my soul that reaches unceasingly for all things that might be torn from the grasp of the sea, clutching tight to the past in the hope that no precious thing might slip through its fingers and be lost. But this is a selfish, hollow dream, to take the bounties of the ever-giving ocean and never suffer a single one to be returned to the depths. It is not given to the fisherman to own the waves; only to participate in the cycle, and to know that the sea reclaims all its gifts in the end.

It is time to throw it back.

The B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k seems to struggle in my grasp, its weight shifting as if it were full of sloshing water, its ribbons grasping for my fingers. It does not want to go.

I hold it high above my head, steeling myself. A groan vibrates down my arm, a sound more felt than heard, emanating from the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k. It is answered by a similar sound from the depths, shaking up through the hull of the Angler and the soles of my boots.

Do I want to do this?

I must.

I throw it into the foaming water.

A shockwave shakes the boat, a faint crimson ripple in the water spreading out into the fog. The lights, even that ancient crystal lens I had hoped would endure beyond all else, flicker out. The B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k had seemed so heavy in my hands, yet it sinks so slowly, as though fighting to stay afloat. As it fades from view, the fog draws back, and even in the darkness I see the terrible, fanged maw of the leviathan waiting below my vessel, its enormous body looming close beneath the surface yet seeming not to disturb the water at all, as though it were but a reflection cast upon the surface.

Not a single one of those teeth touch me as it breaches, and takes the faithful Angler in one fell bite. But even as the jaws of my tomb close around me, I see a glimpse of the sky; the fog, that crushing, constricting blanket, has gone, and brilliant auroras once more dance beneath a sky full of more stars than there are fish in the sea.

Where I go now I cannot say. Perhaps she waits for me in the dark - Julie, my love, my shining star, whom I could never truly forget no matter how hard I tried. I could not return her to the world of air and sunlight, but perhaps now she will no longer be alone.

The pages of my log are scattered, ripped from the spine of that infernal B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k and floating through the water around me. Perhaps, like those strange messages I found in my journeys, they will make their way back to the surface. I can only hope that some other fisherman will hear my warning - that one must never dredge too greedily the treasures of the sea, and if one happens to catch a fish from another world, one should always throw it back…

[dredgingthedepths]

Monday 20th June 1947

I go to Little Marrow first - the Trader knew how to read the runes on the stone tablets, it is possible he knows more about the ancient civilisation, and perhaps even this B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k that I hold. He is surprised when I explain that the tablet opened the ancient Lighthouse, but offers no more insight.

Upon returning to the Angler, I find the Dockworker, standing rigid, as he had been when I arrived. He seems paralyzed with fear, though I know not why. He does not respond to questions about what's wrong. His neck and overalls are covered in the same dark fluid that seemed to leak from the last package I delivered to him. As I watch, a drop falls from his ear, striking the docks and seeming to slither between the boards into the water below. When I ask what it was, he seems to be overcome by anger, trembling until I am compelled to step backwards. Does this have to do with the solstice? I have no aid to offer him, and so I leave him be.

I return at last to Greater Marrow, where this whole adventure began, or so I had thought. I climb the steps of the Lighthouse, and inform its Keeper that I now possess the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k - although I am starting to accept that it has never left my side. How is it that I failed to recognize the pages upon which I have been recording my daily log?

The Lighthouse Keeper does not seem surprised by my tale, and urges me to use this window of lucidity wisely. She asks if I remember what happened in the gloomy darkness beyond the bay, and offers to point the way, when the night is thickest and the sea is as it was all those years ago.

I spend the rest of the day on land, for the first time that I can remember. We wait until night falls, and then deepens, until it is surely well past midnight. It is the Solstice. It is time.

[dredgingthedepths]

Monday 20th June 1947

I find myself standing on the dock at Blackstone Isle. I do not know how I got here. I do not much care.

Should I give up this last artefact? I doubt I could stop myself, but I do wonder if such an action might be enough to halt what is to come. The thought burns in my mind as I climb the rough stone steps, though I know it is of no consequence. I am hooked, and the line draws taught.

The door opens as I approach. The hands of the W̪a͓t̵cḩ twitch, trying to move forward without any progress.

"Though it has been some decades since I last laid eyes upon this… the sound of its mechanisms has grown no less unpleasant," he says, taking the W̪a͓t̵cḩ. "And with that, our collection is complete. I must admit, I am surprised. I did not think you had the determination for such a job. Now, with these five relics in my possession… only one thing remains. I suspect you know by now."

Do I know? The only thing I can think of is the destruction of the Lighthouse, but… why? Why would he wish to bring about the horrors that befell the civilisation that now lies in ruins in Devil's Spine? I ask him what he means.

"It will become apparent soon enough."

I do not like the sound of his voice.

"We must make one final voyage. This time, I will be with you."

I do not want this man aboard my ship. But this must be seen through to its end.

I feel reluctant to set out. To prolong the time, I ask him about his B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k.

"Which B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k? This one here?" He pulls a dusty tome, clearly unopened in years, from a shelf, smiling at me as if we share some private joke. "There's really not much to be said of "Histories of the Gray Isles". It's quite a chore."

I tell him not to play dumb. There is only one B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k of which I could be asking.

"Play dumb? Your hypocrisy is wearying. I suppose we must go through this rigmarole yet again." The B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k appears in his hands, or perhaps it had never left them. "Go ahead. Ask us."

I ask where he got it, the air hanging very still between us.

"Don't you remember? You were there."

The air around the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k seems to pulse, like a heartbeat, like the infernal engine that at some point has grafted itself to my hull. I was there? How could I have been there? I only arrived in this archipelago three months ago, before which I… I was… what was my life before this? Why can I not remember?

"So was she."

I somehow know he speaks of the woman whose letters I have been finding, in glass prisons scattered throughout these isles. But I have never met her! Who is she?

"You wanted to forget. Begged me. This is what you asked for."

I did come here to forget something - this strikes true in my very soul. What? Why? When? Have I been here longer than I thought?

I demand the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k. I do not know why. I did not know that I had it in me. The words spill from my mouth and hang in the silence before I can stop their rushing flight.

"You won't change a thing. The B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k is ours."

Who is this "we" he keeps referring to? Is there someone else here? I step closer. To my surprise, so does he - a line may only have a hook on one end, but it can be pulled from both directions.

"What can you possibly hope to achieve?"

The B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k is within reach. I could stretch out my hand and take it. It would be so easy…

My fist flies out without warning, striking the Collector's jaw. His face shatters and falls to the ground.

Shatters?

Wait…

I stand in an empty room, long abandoned. Nobody has lived here in years, perhaps decades. Broken glass scatters across the floor, its dust only otherwise disturbed by a single set of footprints. Blood drips from my knuckles, seeping into the fabric cover of the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k which I now hold… the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k that fits so easily into my fingers, as though it has rarely left their grasp. From the fragments of glass at my feet, a dozen Collectors stare up at me, their faces confused, horrified, betrayed.

"You're pathetic," the largest of their number says. He rubs his own bloodied hand, no B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k to be seen. "Understand this, plainly, before you sink us into despair. I know how to bring her back. It's all right there on the pages; and now you've seen its power first hand. We wield the power to release her from her slumber! We can undo everything… undo what you did!"

I stumble back, clutching the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k, unable to let go of it. I must find answers.

[dredgingthedepths]

Monday 20th June 1947

Sacrificed two corrupted fish on the last altar. Recieved the last Flame, as well as a large stone tablet encrusted with teeth and bone, with a large red glyph of a hook at its centre.

The solstice is tomorrow. Are the tasks I am undertaking intended to save the world, or doom it? The thought that anything less momentous could be coming seems out of the question. I could just… No. I can't just sail away. That ceased to be possible a long time ago.

I delivered the last flame, and followed the Fanatic to a black stone altar, stacked with dark, damp wood. He pulled out the W̪a͓t̵cḩ - the last relic of those I must collect. "It is almost yours," he said. "May it mark the start of your journey… and your end."

With this, he stood upon the altar, and began to chant.

I asked what he was doing, but recieved no answer. The wind picked up, and a cold blue flame began to rise from the wood. I cried out for him to stop, but the chanting only grew louder. The flames began to burn up his legs, but he did not react. Lifting his arms to the sky, he was engulfed, the freezing flame consuming his body until nothing remaind but a cold blue mist that dissipated in the ocean wind.

The fire disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. All that was left in the sodden ashes of the pyre was the W̪a͓t̵cḩ. I hold it even now as I write this - it remains freezing cold to the touch, vibrating in a pulsing rhythm, its hands spinning wildly beneath the cracked glass.

[dredgingthedepths]

Sunday 19th June 1947

More nightmares, though I do not feel that I have slept. I saw a great leviathan raise up its vast head until it was level with the height of the ancient lighthouse. It watched the light, swaying, fascinated, clicking and whistling in a soft, guttural song. After some time, it sank back below the waves, and disappeared.

Darkness, utter and all-eclipsing. A crimson rift opened in the void. Horrifying, squamous things began to emerge, teeth and bones and tentacles and eyes and eyes and eyes. At last, a membrane spread over the fissure, sealing it against trespassers, to the moaning frustration of whatever lay beyond.

A great tentacle rose from the water and slammed down onto my ship, with sufficient force to momentarily push it almost beneath the level of the waves. I almost dismissed this as a vision itself, but upon daybreak saw that the damage done to my deck could not have come from any hallucination.

Caught some cusk eels, including one with a sickly purple colouration, and a skate that appears to be growing bones instead of cartilage.

[dredgingthedepths]

Saturday 18th June 1947

Set out from Greater Marrow at dawn. I have taken to leaving my lights on even in the day - it is a comfort, somehow.

I returned to the Lighthouse in the North. The fused tablet fitted into the door perfectly, and it slid open with only the faintest rumble. Stepping inside, I saw that the stair to the top had long since collapsed, the light irrevocably extinguished. The room in which I stood appeared to have been at least partially used as a storeroom - various items of antiquity had been left on shelves by those long dead.

As I turned to leave, however, my eye caught a flash of brilliant, faceted crystal. An impossibly beautiful lens, seated in delicately filligreed gold. It seemed to grow brighter as I approached, as though reacting to the presence of a living soul after all this time. I recognise the flame that flickers in its heart - it is the same as that which I have recovered for the madman on the island of statues.

I have installed this artefact on the Angler. I feel that I will have much need of light in the times to come.

[dredgingthedepths]

Friday 17th June 1947

I've found it.

Returned to the Trader. Coming back to the Marrows seems to take no time at all these days. He seemed disturbed to see me - I don't suppose the lack of sleep has done my visage any favours. As the tablets were brought together, an eerie red light began to seep from their blank side - writing, which the Trader was fortunately able to translate:

When the sky mistakes the stars And the air grows thick with night The deep will open its scars Protect us, O guiding light

The Trader immediately connected this "guiding light" to the Greater Marrow Lighthouse, but was confused, as the tablets predate the lighthouse by centuries. They must refer to the ruined Lighthouse in the Devil's Spine.

Has all of this happened before? It has not escaped my notice that I happened to arrive on the equinox, and in this southerly part of the world the winter solstice is swift approaching. What does this portend?

[dredgingthedepths]

Thursday 16th June 1947

Found another tablet. One more to go.

[dredgingthedepths]

Wednesday 15th June 1947

Caught a ghost shark with an enormous grinning jaw.

[dredgingthedepths]

Tuesday 14th June 1947

Delivered the second flame.

Found a set of ancient ruins on the northern side of the islands, with an enormous, crumbling lighthouse, and a deep cave painted with strange murals. One wall depicted the birth of a civilisation, with a great beacon of shining light repelling a mass of writhing tentacles emerging from the sea. The other showed the reverse - the fall of the civilisation, a great volcanic eruption fracturing the lighthouse as monstrous shapes devoured the people and the buildings fell to ruin.

The lighthouse is sealed by an ancient stone door. An empty space in the stone reminds me of the tablet I brought up, and the similar one possessed by the Trader. Based on the size of the space, there must be two more. I feel that I must find them. I must see what is inside.

Caught a frilled shark. Dredged up a flag with a pattern of eyes on crimson fabric.

[dredgingthedepths]

Monday 13th June 1947

Caught a pale skate. Made another fish sacrifice, recieved another flame.

[dredgingthedepths]

Sunday 12th June 1947

Caught a ghost shark.

[dredgingthedepths]

Saturday 11th June 1947

Took the tablet to the Trader. He told me that it is likely a fragment of a larger arrangement, and showed me a similar piece which he already possessed.

Found another campsite, this one occupied by, of all people, the old Mayor of Little Marrow. He looks much worse for where, and immediately asked me if I "threw it back". When I asked what "it" was, he shouted, "The B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k!" I have a terrible feeling that I know exactly which B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k he is speaking of.

He ranted about a "him and his damned wife", a B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k they dredged up, and something cloaked in fog that followed the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k out of the chest, right through the boat with a boom. The thing apparently spoke, saying that it was coming for our breath, that we wouldn't be needing it soon. After this, "darkness came crashing down", and some time later some of the crew washed ashore, including the old Mayor and the mysterious "him", still clutching the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k, which was covered in "her" blood.

He said that the Fog cloaks "that calamitous thing". He directed me to the Lighthouse Keeper, saying that she saw it all that ruinous day.

This is the most information anyone has given me about anything that is going on in this place. I think I have some questions for the Lighthouse Keeper, and should seek her out immediately.

Sailed back to Greater Marrow, asked the Lighthouse Keeper about the B͖̚ò̥ō̳̥k. She told me that it must be returned, and that I must move on, for my sake and hers.

I do not know what she is talking about. I need more information, and the only lead I have is the Fanatic and the artefact he carries. I return north in the morning.

[dredgingthedepths]

Friday 10th June 1947

Caught a coelacanth. The Merchant was excited to see it.

Dredged up a small stone tablet with some kind of writing on it that I am unable to read. Perhaps the Trader in Little Marrow will know something about it? I can't think of anyone else with an interest in antiquities, except perhaps the Fanatic, whom I am uncertain I can fully trust.

Upgraded the engines.

[dredgingthedepths]

Thursday 9th June 1947

Caught a volcano snail with fingers and a mackerel that seems to be tattering to ribbons.

[dredgingthedepths]

Wednesday 8th June 1947

Caught a volcano snail in the crab pots, as well as a spider crab with a black webbed carapace and a single staring eye.