Under the goat head, a faint creak sounded as its neck slowly turned on the base.
It watched Duncan silently as he returned to the captain’s cabin, its gaze following the captain’s movements.
Duncan came to the chart table, sat in the tall-backed chair, hands on the table.
The sea chart on the table pulsed with a thin mist, a hazy fog covering everything.
Even that impossible chart had lost its reference value in this sea that had long since passed the borders.
But Duncan’s attention was clearly not on the fog-shrouded chart — his eyes focused on somewhere farther away, as if looking through the table and the floor, staring at the vast, boundless void outside the Lost Home.
After a long while, the goat head finally spoke cautiously. “I noticed just now… the environment around the Lost Home changed a lot. Was that you?”
Perhaps affected by the atmosphere, the usually loquacious first mate kept the chatter to a minimum this time.