"Speaking of ripples in the water, I'm reminded of Noah's Ark," my teacher said.
"Noah's Ark?" I asked...
My teacher instructed, "Turn to the next page, 006."
Following her command, I turned to page 006, which read as follows:
APPELLATION: The Giant Ark (Noah's Ark)
TITLE / EPITHET: The Silent Galleon, Archive of Stillness, The Shipwreck in the Sea of Memory
CLASSIFICATION:
* Primary: Legendary
* Status: Active (Cyclical, appears before a conceptual extinction event)
* Scale: Regional (Its manifestation is local, but its impact is cosmic)
* Tier: Primal
ORIGIN: This Ark was never built by mortal hands. It is a manifestation of the cosmic law of preservation. It was born in response to the "Silent Flood"—a wave of conceptual entropy that periodically sweeps through a portion of reality, erasing things from existence, beginning with memory.
I paused, rereading the line about a 'conceptual extinction event'. A shiver went down my spine before I continued.
The Ark is the only anomaly that can navigate the Silent Flood and keep its cargo intact.
FORM / ESSENCE: Its essence is a Vessel of Conceptual Preservation. Its form is the spectral appearance of a giant ark or galleon from a forgotten age. Its wood is pale as bone, and its tattered sails are woven from the mists of memory. It does not sail on water, but on the currents of time and collective memory.
APPEARANCE & PERCEPTION: Its arrival is heralded by signs of "forgetting." Old photographs begin to fade for no reason, words from ancient languages vanish from books, and people feel a strange emptiness for something they cannot recall. The Ark itself then appears on the horizon of the mind or in the middle of a thick fog—a magnificent, silent, and infinitely sorrowful apparition.
DOMAIN & INFLUENCE: Its domain is the preservation of "Echoes"—the final remnants of everything on the verge of extinction and being forgotten. It is a collector, not a savior. Its influence is to "harvest" these Echoes before the Silent Flood erases them completely. Inside the ark, these Echoes take on a semi-physical form, often resembling spectral fauna:
* The last song of a civilization manifests as a flock of sonic phoenixes.
* A dead language roams the deck as a pack of whispering smoke-wolves.
* Every extinct emotion (like a unique type of love or sorrow) is stored in fragile crystal butterflies within the cargo hold.
VULNERABILITIES & COUNTERMEASURES: The Ark is an entity bound by its singular purpose.
* Passive Nature: It cannot stop or fight the Silent Flood. It can only endure it. It is an archive, not a weapon.
* The Law of Exchange: A person wishing to take refuge within the ark when the Silent Flood arrives must pay a toll. They must willingly surrender one of their most precious memories or "Echoes" to become part of the ark's eternal collection.
* Dissonance of Novelty: As an archive of the past, it is conceptually weak against something truly new and original. A newly composed song, a revolutionary idea, or a baby's first laugh is a "dissonance" to it and can force it to keep its distance.
ECHOES IN HISTORY & MYTH: The legend of the "Forgotten Isle" tells of an island rich in culture and music, which overnight vanished from all maps and human memory. The only witness was a sailor driven to madness, who claimed to have seen a giant phantom ship "scooping" the island's melodies into its hull just before a strange, silent fog consumed everything.
WHISPERS & FRAGMENTS OF KNOWLEDGE:
* "When the world begins to feel quieter, it's not because no one is speaking. It's because the Ark is collecting the words."
* "Each of its cargo is a tragedy—the only one of its kind, the last of its line, forever preserved and forever alone."
* "The Captain never speaks, for she traded her own voice for the first toll of passage."
Note from the Scribe: Recording this entity feels like writing a eulogy. There is a profound sadness here. Every "Echo" saved is a victory against oblivion, but also an admission of total defeat against the Silent Flood. I wonder, if one day this codex itself begins to fade from memory, will the Ark come for it? And if so, in what spectral animal form will my knowledge be preserved?
After carefully reading the entire description, I concluded:
"The ripple you meant was the Silent Flood?" I paused for a moment before asking, "And what is the Silent Flood?"
"Exactly, the Silent Flood," my teacher replied. She then picked up a stone and threw it into the center of the lake.
"The Silent Flood is an event, or a catastrophe, on a conceptual level," my teacher continued.
She then created a visual with her magic. Right before me, on the rug we were sitting on, a miniature coastal city appeared.
"Watch this," she commanded, moving her index finger. A moment later, a magical tidal wave crashed into the miniature city.
I watched as buildings and objects were destroyed by the seawater, and the tiny inhabitants were swept away.
"This is a disaster on a physical level," my teacher said.
"Then what about the Silent Flood?" I asked.
She raised her hand. The miniature city vanished—not in a puff of smoke, but with a silent, gut-wrenching wrongness. The space it occupied felt suddenly cold and empty, and the memory of its tiny streets already felt distant and dreamlike.
"Now, this is the Silent Flood," my teacher said softly. "Unlike its name suggests, the phenomenon isn't like a typical flood. It's one of erasing or sweeping away, similar to how a tsunami washes things away. Can you still remember the details of that miniature city?"
I was growing more confused. "It's a little hazy," I answered, then continued, "What does it manifest as, teacher, if not like a typical flood?"
My teacher reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette, then lit it.
"The Silent Flood has no physical form, but we can feel its manifestation in our daily lives on a small scale," she answered. She took a drag from her cigarette and continued, "like forgetting something. That is its minor form, while its peak is the Silent Flood itself."
Hearing her words, I concluded, "A memory predator?"
"Well, labeling it a 'memory predator' might fit its essence, but the Silent Flood is not a creature or a being with intent," she corrected gently. "Forgetting itself is the Silent Flood." The cigarette in her hand went out. She stubbed it out and placed the butt back in her pocket.
"Hmm..." I stared intently at my teacher, as if to say, explain more specifically.
Feeling my sharp gaze, my teacher instructed, "Try reading the 'History' section again."
I focused again on the legend of the "Forgotten Isle" and the "strange, silent fog."
"You said it has no physical form," I said, lifting my face to look at her. "But it says here 'a strange, silent fog.'"
"Pfft..." My teacher stifled a laugh. "Don't puff up your cheeks like that. You know, you look like a chipmunk," she teased. Instead of answering, she pinched both my cheeks and pulled at them as if they were modeling clay.
"Snap!!" I bit her hand.
"Ow... that hurt!"
"That's 'chipmunk' for you," I huffed, turning my face away.
She just laughed, seeming to enjoy it, and then launched into a tickle attack on my stomach. I burst out laughing, squirming away from her touch. After a few moments, she stopped, satisfied. "Huft... that was fun," she said, while I lay gasping, my breath heavy from laughing.
She adjusted her position, sitting cross-legged near my feet. She pulled another cigarette from her pocket, as if it were a bottomless supply.
Lighting it, she said, "The strange fog mentioned there is not the Silent Flood."
I fell silent, my breathing instantly returning to normal. I sat up, facing her, startling her with my sudden proximity. "Then what is it?"
"It's part of Noah's Ark. You can think of it as the 'Water' it sails on." She took a drag from her cigarette. "Imagine this: a coachwoman ties his horse to a tree, and then he forgets. Not only where his horse is, but he forgets about the horse entirely. Now, the horse and the tree are what the Ark carries. They are what's stored and archived. The coachwoman is the one who experiences the Silent Flood."
I processed her words. "So the forgetting is experienced by the coachwoman, and everything he forgot is archived by the Ark?"
"There you go. But the scale is different," my teacher said. "Go back and read the 'Origin' section again."
I did, and the true weight of the words hit me. "Oh... my goodness. Not just memories, but existence itself?" I looked at my teacher, my eyes wide.
She nodded, her expression somber. "Yes, just as it's recorded there." She gently stroked my head. "The Silent Flood can annihilate existence on a vast scale. All forms of forgetting are its minor manifestations, and the Ark carries what it can to preserve it."
"Teacher, is there no way to survive?"
"There is one way," she said, throwing another stone into the lake. "Board Noah's Ark by offering a precious memory as your fare."
"We're forced to choose, aren't we?" I whispered. "Our own existence, or a precious memory..."
Just then, the coachwoman approached. "Ladies, the horses are rested. We can continue our journey."
We packed our things and settled back into the carriage as it pulled away from the lakeside. I watched the calming orange sunset over the water, feeling sleepy.
"Teacher, are we camping outdoors tonight?"
"There are no towns nearby, so yes," my teacher said, closing the window curtains. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you if we find an inn."
I closed my eyes. The light dimmed, darkness took over, and the sounds of the road faded away…
CRASH!!!
The carriage shook. I was jolted awake, my gaze briefly seeing my teacher's large breasts, which were like two balls colliding with each other. My eyes closed again, defeated by drowsiness.