Chapter 1229: Listening to Voices from Light-Years Away

The tranquil night sky stretched overhead like a vast curtain, enveloping the world beneath. Though the dazzling artificial lights of the earth dimmed the stars’ twinkle somewhat, the cold, distant starlight paid no heed to the glow below. For millions of years past, those stars had silently watched over all living things, gazing down from the boundless darkness of space upon one world after another—each a possible cradle of civilization.

What was happening on those far-off planets at this very moment? Even the most brilliant playwrights could scarcely imagine.

Yet some messages, swifter than light itself, could carry greetings from four light-years away, letting those who gazed up at the stars know that somewhere out there, life thrived.

Tyr tilted her head back, quietly watching the flickering starlight. The faint silver glow shimmered over her delicate, beautiful scales, lending this sea witch an unexpected air of grace and serenity. Gawain rarely understood what this deep-sea creature—who spent most of her time asleep—was thinking, especially now.

“What’s on your mind?” he finally broke the silence.

“Such a beautiful sky…” Tyr whispered. “A sight once so strange, now strangely familiar. We’ve watched this starry expanse for millions of years. Tell me, how many civilizations have vanished under our gaze during that time?”

“On the scale of light-years, the death of a civilization is but a flicker of a star,” Gawain replied thoughtfully. “Until we master star-sea navigation, such speculation seems pointless.”

“True,” Tyr smiled softly. “We should focus on more practical matters.”

“Speaking of which,” Gawain’s mind raced with a sudden new theory about the sender of the ‘Azure Star’ signal. “What if… they don’t actually possess faster-than-light communication technology?”

“Oh?” Tyr raised an eyebrow, puzzled. “You doubt our communications experts? That they mistook an ordinary signal for FTL?”

“No, I trust your experts. I just suspect the ‘Azure Star’ senders aren’t as advanced as we think,” Gawain shook his head, explaining his guess. “The reason they use FTL to send such crude, primitive signals might not be some grand plan—it could be simply because… that’s all they can send.”

Tyr frowned. “You mean…”

“I’m not sure where FTL communication ranks in the hierarchy of spacefaring tech, but it’s probably high—after all, even the dragons of Talrond haven’t mastered it. Technological progress tends to be interconnected. While some fields leap ahead, generally a civilization’s tech levels are balanced. Developing one advanced tech usually means many related fields advance too. They support and complement each other,” Gawain said slowly. “So if the Azure Star senders truly had full FTL comms, they probably wouldn’t be stuck on their homeworld. They might already be… another ‘Voyager’.”

“Makes sense…” Tyr nodded thoughtfully, murmuring to herself.

“Besides the ‘greetings’ from Azure Star, has your antenna array detected any other FTL signals in the sky?” Gawain asked seriously. “Even a brief burst of static?”

“No,” Tyr shook her head immediately. “After confirming SK-32-A’s signal was FTL, Antavien scanned the entire sky within range of the antenna system. No second FTL communication was found…”

“So the Azure Star senders likely don’t fully control FTL comms—otherwise, the space around them wouldn’t be so ‘quiet.’ Imagine a species that’s mastered fire, yet hundreds of years pass without a single wisp of smoke rising anywhere in their territory…”

Tyr caught on instantly. “Unless that ‘torch’ isn’t theirs. They don’t know how to light a second fire, nor what else the ‘torch’ can do besides sending signals!”

Gawain nodded slowly, voice low. “It’s just a possibility.”

“Then whose torch is it?” Tyr asked instinctively. “This… this is a torch that can send signals faster than light across light-years of space…”

Gawain said nothing at first, simply gazing up at the stars. In truth, the truth was almost within reach. Even Tyr, deep in thought, had come to the most likely answer—if not the Voyagers, then who else?

Gawain recalled the information he’d seen in the Skyhold logs and couldn’t help but sigh: the legacies scattered across the stars… clearly, there was more than one.

At some point, Tyr’s gaze had settled on Gawain. She stared quietly at this “human pioneer hero” for a long moment before suddenly blurting out, “You’re truly rare.”

“Am I?” Gawain blinked, surprised. “What’s rare about me?”

“I rarely find anyone on land who can discuss these topics,” Tyr said, shaking her head. “No offense, but land-dwellers generally know very little about the cosmos. You’re an exception—you not only keep up with these conversations, but you have your own insights. That’s rare. And even now, you still maintain a strong curiosity and sharp mind about these things… that’s even rarer.” She spoke earnestly. “I don’t know many land-dwellers, but I’ve heard my sisters describe many monarchs and commanders on land. Some have remarkable vision and vast knowledge, but they’re always tangled up in earthly matters—politics, military, livelihoods, national threats and interests… all things that give me a headache just hearing about them.

“You face those entanglements too—I’ve seen it with my own eyes. But what surprises me is that your attention to the stars and your thirst for the unknown have never faded.”

Gawain looked at Tyr, who now wore a serious expression. He rarely heard her speak so much; it seemed she’d devoted all her waking hours to this conversation today. “…Is that a compliment?”

“A very high one,” Tyr nodded solemnly. “You’re the first I’ve praised like this.”

“I’m honored. But I have a question,” Gawain said seriously. “Don’t you spend most of your days sleeping? When do you find time to think about such complex things?”

“Don’t you know? Sea witches think even while they sleep—our minds never rest. In other words, if we stop thinking, we die,” Tyr said, wagging her tail. “We’re a rather slow species, so if we didn’t use all our time, we’d be utterly useless…”

“You think clearly even while sleeping?!” Gawain’s eyes widened in astonishment. He’d never heard or imagined this before. Tyr’s human-like appearance had misled him into thinking sea witches were just shapeshifters with human-level intelligence. Only now did he realize how fundamentally different this elemental species was from humans. “So… you don’t dream?”

“Ordinary sea witches don’t dream as individuals—though we can forcibly interpret those deeply immersive ‘sleep-thoughts’ as dreams, but that’s a stretch,” Tyr explained seriously, wagging the tip of her tail. “The only sea witch who truly dreams is Eva…”

“Eva…” Gawain recalled the knowledge behind that name, pondering. “Isn’t she your ‘spirit of the race’?”

“Spirit of the race? That’s not far off,” Tyr smiled. “Eva is the collective of all sea witches. You can think of her as the largest, invisible sea witch—the elemental core of us as water elementals. Outsiders can’t grasp such an intangible existence, but to us, Eva is a real individual. And she’s the only one who dreams. Among sea witches, those with special gifts can sense Eva’s dreams—usually the most powerful Tide Lords, Deep Sea Witches, and of course, our Queen. The Queen almost always sees Eva’s dreams and sometimes shares the wondrous visions she finds there…”

Gawain listened intently to these incredible tales, finally muttering, “Your species really is something extraordinary…”

…

The sound of waves flowed like a gentle lullaby, carried by the moving water into a spacious, elegant chamber. Petia awoke from slumber, opening her eyes inside a sphere of pure water formed from elemental condensation.

Her silver-white hair floated within the water orb but was soon gathered neatly behind her head by her own will. Petia swam out of the water sphere, her clothes shifting into a luxurious yet practical pale blue gown. She glanced toward the door, where the deep-sea attendant Rosalia appeared almost simultaneously, riding a current.

“Your Majesty,” Rosalia swam forward, “you woke later than usual today.”

“I saw Eva’s dream again,” Petia said. “She seems to be dreaming a lot lately.”

Rosalia’s face lit with interest. “Eva’s dreams? What did you see?”

“The details are vague. I only remember an endless sea—like our homeland’s boundless ocean. No land in sight, with many lifeforms thriving in the waters, including creatures like sea witches, and some unfamiliar races. There were also giant structures floating on the sea, like ancient ruins or monuments…” Petia rubbed her temple. “That’s all. Strange, inexplicable images… after all, it was just a dream.”

“Perhaps Eva saw the same distant scenes as her kin in her dream? We are one in Eva’s dream…” Rosalia smiled gently, offering comfort. “Whatever it was, it doesn’t sound like a bad vision.”

“Far away…” Petia murmured, the word stirring her thoughts. “Any progress with the FTL array?”

“No signals from any colony ships yet,” Rosalia shook her head softly. “Monitoring of SK-32-A continues. It’s been over three days since the last signal. Based on the pattern, the next FTL communication should arrive in about ten minutes.”

“Mm,” Petya nodded as she swam toward the corridor—this was the royal district of Antavien, nestled within the deepwater barrier. The seawater from their homeland filled every hallway and room here, so moving around meant swimming, which made for a comfortable and convenient environment for sea witches like them. “What about the scans of the surrounding skies?”

“Nothing significant,” Rosalia shook her head. “We only picked up a few faint, scattered low-frequency calls—standard signals sent via light waves or quasar-like pulses. They’ve probably been drifting through this part of space for tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands of years, endlessly circling within the stellar system’s cage. The civilizations that sent them have long since vanished.”

“…Even if they hadn’t,” Petya sighed, “there’s not much we could do. We can receive but not transmit—that’s an unsolvable problem… Any progress on the resonance crystals?”

“Unfortunately not. Master Hathaway says she’s at a loss as well—the crystals were destroyed beyond repair, and this planet lacks the key materials needed to recast them. The energy tech and rune knowledge the Cecilians shared with us are useful, but neither helps with fixing the faster-than-light communication array. We also tried several natural materials recently dredged from the deep sea, but none met the requirements…”

“Well, these things can’t be rushed,” Petya said softly, nodding. “Let the deep-sea witches do their best.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

On the golden sands of the Eo Continent, near the Antavien’s stranded section, a complex communications tower stood tall on the aft deck of the massive colony starship. Its base was wide open, revealing intricate internal components and faintly glowing system lights deep within the structure. The “deep-sea witches,” skilled technicians, bustled inside and around the tower, inspecting the recently repaired receiving modules and fine-tuning the still-unstable core systems.

Above the tower, several communication units, now operational, floated gently, held aloft by invisible force fields. They slowly rotated around the tower’s body, their sleek alloy forms pointing skyward. Bathed in the morning sunlight, their metallic shells gleamed with a golden-red hue.

Petya arrived on the deck, watching the sea witches busy at work around the tower, alongside the nagas who had only recently appeared in this area, learning mechanical maintenance from the deep-sea witches. Her gaze then settled on the tower itself, and a soft sigh escaped her lips.

(End of chapter)