First Mate Alex could hear his breathing—
The captain's breathing.
Even though Solomon was aboard another ship, Alex could still hear it.
It was as if, as the fleet pressed deeper into the boundless void at the edge of the galaxy, the veil between reality and illusion was thinning.
Something not of this world was stirring within the captain.
Something vast.
Something unspeakable.
With every powerful beat of Solomon's heart, that thing radiated outward, reaching across the entire fleet.
And after the crew had carved the runes—
The presence only grew stronger.
It was as if the captain lay asleep upon his throne, resting amid a jungle of steel and circuitry—
But his body was merely a vessel.
And the thing inside was slowly, patiently, awakening.
The rowdy criminals fell silent.
They even began to tread lightly.
For the first time in weeks—
No one rebelled.
No one suffered nightmares.
Everything was calm.
Alex never saw the captain again.
Orders still arrived—
But they came from an old man with a checkered scarf, whose eyes glinted with amusement under the ship's harsh, sterile lighting.
The handwriting was unmistakably Solomon's.
Especially the elegant, upward flick of the final letters.
"This is for your own good," the old man had told him, smirking.
"We're heading toward the border of illusion, where nightmares are born. He's shielding everyone. With his power. With his very soul."
"That room isn't safe for just anyone anymore."
"Unless you want to end up as a mindless supplicant?"
Alex hesitated.
His scarred blue scalp gleamed under the lights.
The armor he wore had been forged at the captain's command, as had the sword at his side.
At first, Alex had dismissed melee weapons—
But after so many boarding battles, he had come to respect them.
Now, he fully embraced the captain's vision.
There was no better combination than sword and gun.
"What about the ones inside?"
Through the corridor's bend, Alex could see a sliver of light spilling from the captain's chambers.
That meant he was awake.
"The ones still in there—what will happen to them?"
"Consider them dead."
The old man's tone was disturbingly casual.
"Their souls are gone."
"Soul, Ka, whatever your people call the bond between flesh and mind—those men have lost theirs."
"Their wills were too weak. Just like their bodies."
Merlin gestured toward the fleet beyond the glass.
"Them, too."
"They've all been affected."
"But at least it's better than the nightmares."
Merlin's lessons with Dave had not stopped.
Even as the fleet basked in golden light, Merlin would force Dave's soul beyond its protection—
Into the twisting nightmare realm beyond.
And every time Dave broke, Merlin would drag him back—
Let him catch his breath under Solomon's light—
Then throw him back out.
It was relentless.
Dave suffered.
His mind withered.
But his power—
His technique—
Grew at an astonishing rate.
Back on Earth, he would have been diagnosed with a laundry list of psychiatric disorders.
Here, aboard this fleet, he had the best mental rehabilitation in the galaxy.
He would be healed.
And thrown back into battle.
He was the heir to the Merlinic Order.
And Gaea—Mother Earth herself—had blessed this fool.
Solomon was preparing for En-Galle.
He knew—
His destiny awaited him there.
To ensure the fleet's safe passage, he had entered deep sleep.
He had to release his stigmata safely—
To keep the crew from being consumed by Chthon's dreamscape.
To prevent himself from becoming something he no longer recognized.
But even in slumber, his mind remained clear.
Parchment and quills still moved around him, scribbling orders, recording calculations.
Crewmen, their souls erased by the power of the stigmata, carried out his commands without question.
Their spirits had been melted by his overwhelming presence.
Once again, Solomon was reminded of the danger of the stigmata.
Or rather—
The danger of himself.
The Dream Veil—
A place where Chthon's dreamscape leaked into reality.
No seal, no matter how powerful, could completely block Chthon's influence.
If it could, the Scarlet Witch would never have existed.
For centuries, the Merlinic Order had monitored Chthon's dreams—
Watching for any scheme, any whisper of his escape.
Kamar-Taj had, on occasion, aided them—
Their most recent intervention had been during Solomon's return from Salem.
The moment he entered the twisted reality of Salem, the Merlinic Order had sounded the alarm.
Considering the blood ties between this universe and another, their concern was warranted.
Because those cultists—
Could have actually summoned a fragment of Chthon.
And that would have spelled catastrophe.
Even now, copies of the Darkhold whispered seductively to unwitting sorcerers, tempting them with its forbidden magic.
Solomon had already decided—
When he returned to Earth, he would personally transcribe a new copy of the Darkhold for Wanda.
One that wouldn't talk.
But for now—
He was still trapped.
Adrift in an island of steel, floating through endless void.
As the fleet neared the galactic edge, they encountered fewer and fewer ships.
Not just alien vessels—
Even pirates and smugglers had vanished.
They were now traveling along the outer edge of the Southern Cross Arm, where it met the Galactic Halo.
They had passed ancient wandering stars—
Strayed too close to searing gas clouds, nearly losing ships to their scorching currents.
Here, there was nothing but wreckage.
Frozen, shattered corpses.
Charred remains, drifting endlessly in the dark.
The captain's chamber—
Its light had gone dark.
Only his glow filled the room.
From a soul's perspective—
The entire fleet was bathed in golden light.
And as they sailed through the abyss, twisted nightmares crashed against that light—
Only to be incinerated instantly.
Solomon had lost track of time.
There were no stars.
No planets.
Only the void.
Here, the curvature of spacetime was barely perceptible.
He had studied general relativity.
He knew what this meant.
From a higher-dimensional perspective, he and the fleet were traveling along a flat plane of time-space.
The passage of time was meaningless.
His watch still ticked—
But its hands had lost their weight.
This was a long journey.
He had to sleep.
And so, as the fleet drifted—
As the whispers of anguish and torment slithered through the corridors—
As the corrupting murmurs of the nightmare realm echoed in the dark—
As the distant prayers of those in the inner Orion Arm called out to some unknown god—
Solomon finally—
Fell into slumber.
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [www.p@treon.com/Mutter]
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]