Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 425

**Chapter 425 – Contact**

Aboard a ship journeying across the Conqueror Sea beneath a moonless sky, Vania stirred restlessly in her berth, awoken by an unsettling medley of noises and a deep, persistent humming. Groggy and frowning, she pushed herself upright, covering a yawn with her hand.

“Mmm… what’s going on out there? So much racket…” she muttered, voice still thick with sleep. After rubbing her eyes, she rose, flicked on the gas lamp mounted beside the bed, and leaned toward the small round window. Her gaze met an unexpected wall of dense fog, blanketing everything beyond in pale obscurity.

‘Why is it so foggy? It was clear when I laid down. Did this roll in just now?’

She blinked at the view, then glanced at the clock on the wall. Barely thirty minutes had passed.

‘Only half an hour… can fog settle this fast? And those noises earlier—what was that about?’

A chill of apprehension crept through her. She reached for her outer garment, slipping it over her shoulders, and quietly opened her cabin door to peek into the corridor. Almost immediately, a crew member stepped in front of her.

“Miss Nun,” he addressed her in Ivigese, “The sea is in a difficult state. We are directing our efforts toward stabilizing the situation. Please remain in your room and refrain from roaming the vessel.”

“Difficult conditions at sea? Understood,” Vania replied, nodding. Her preliminary studies before pilgrimage had provided her with a functional grasp of Ivigese, enough to comprehend his meaning. She closed the door and returned to her quarters.

Rather than lying back down, she remained perched on the edge of her bed, tension growing with each passing moment. Outside, the uproar slowly ebbed, the drone of engines softening. The fog began to clear gradually. When the mist thinned enough for her to see the dark horizon once more, she let out a weary sigh.

“Whew… just a sudden change in weather, perhaps. Looks like things have calmed.”

Relieved, she began to remove her robe. But then—new commotion broke out in the hallway. Shouts echoed, followed by a cry—distinct and pained. Her heartbeat skipped.

‘That… doesn’t sound like anything to do with steering through bad weather.’

The cry sent a fresh wave of unease rippling through her. She stood once more and opened the door. Other passengers had also emerged from their cabins, concern etched into their faces. As they neared the staircase to the upper deck, crewmen intercepted them.

“Please, everyone, return to your rooms,” one of the men said. “We’re handling an unexpected event. There’s no significant danger. Please remain calm.”

The crowd hesitated, but one by one, they turned back. Vania lingered, scanning the faces of the crew, sensing tension behind their words. Reluctantly, she retreated and closed her door with resolve.

She sat rigidly, her expression cold and resolute.

‘As a non-ordinary practitioner of the Black Earth tier under the Lamp path, my perception surpasses that of regular folk. Even in that dim hallway… I saw clearly.’

Her memory replayed the scene: the sailors stationed at the stairwell, their stiff postures masking growing panic. Beyond them, partially cloaked in shadow, stood several bare-chested strangers with grim, silent expressions. She’d caught the gleam of weapons in their hands—and seen bodies slumped on the deck behind them.

‘Sailors subdued. Outsiders now hold the upper deck. The crew is being forced to contain us. This vessel’s been seized. I must alert the naval escort…’

She rushed to the porthole and scanned the horizon for any glimmer of lights from nearby ships. Her breath caught in her throat.

‘No lights. Nothing. Where is the escort fleet? Why can’t I see a single ship?’

A creeping dread settled in. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Her hands moved with deliberate calm as she retrieved her holy tome from the bedside, laying it carefully on the table. After a silent prayer, she opened it to a blank page and began to write, her pen steady despite her rising fear.

‘The circumstances are dire and unclear. I must reach out to Miss Dorothy immediately… forgive the lateness.’

……

On a separate ship sailing through the night across distant waters, Dorothy’s eyes snapped open. A moment later, she sat upright, exhaling slowly as she rubbed her temples, still half entangled in sleep.

‘A prayer… from Vania? At this hour? Something’s wrong.’

She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and stepped to the desk beneath her own porthole. Turning on the lamp, she summoned her ‘Sea of Texts Navigation’ from within her spatial ‘Magic Box’ and flipped to the page bound to Vania. Her eyes darted over the message detailing the vessel’s assault, the subdued crew, and the quiet terror spread among the passengers. She frowned deeply.

‘So her ship’s under siege. Intruders have overtaken the crew, keeping the passengers locked in. This is a hijacking. But who would dare strike a Church vessel?’

Pieces fell into place.

‘Thick mist… bare-skinned attackers… boarding at sea, in these conditions? It aligns with the Way of the Wave Walker—this smells of the Abyssian Cult. But why now? Are they gathering victims for Haemocitus? The Deep Blue Heart is with me—without it, they can’t perform any proper ritual. So why target the Church convoy? Could another group be wielding Abyssian methods?’

She tapped the pen lightly against the page. The gap between them made physical aid impossible. She had to focus on guidance.

‘I’m too far to assist directly. Vania must act with extreme care. The hijackers summoned that fog, meaning they’re capable non-ordinaries. Likely White Ash tier or higher. If they wield Tide powers… they have control of this battlefield. Vania can’t fight them. She needs to avoid direct action. Her focus must be on intelligence. If only I had someone aboard to assist…’

Precision was always Dorothy’s strength. She put pen to paper and penned her instructions. No sudden moves. Stay useful but unthreatening. Gather details. She also offered a temporary solution to Vania’s linguistic limitations: she would use their shared ‘Akasha’ connection to temporarily impart fluency in both Ivigese and Castilian.

There was no other support on-site. Everything depended on Vania.

……

‘Avoid stirring trouble. Stay compliant. Observe.’

Vania reread Dorothy’s response within the stillness of her cabin. The task before her felt monumental, made more so by her lack of tools or allies.

‘I must stay the course Dorothy suggested. Learn what I can. Her offer to bridge the language gap is more than generous… it’s vital. I couldn’t do this without it. Her mind is truly something rare—so young and yet so capable…’

Resolved, she chose patience over defiance. Just then, a sharp knock rattled her door. She swallowed her nerves and opened it to find a nervous crewman waiting.

“Um, Sister… do you have experience treating injuries? Medicine, perhaps?” he asked hesitantly.

Vania blinked in surprise, then nodded firmly.

“I do. I have training in medical care.”

“Thank the depths. Please, come with me. We need help.”

She followed him down the hallway, reaching out in prayer to Dorothy. The connection flared to life. Dorothy tapped into Vania’s senses without hesitation.

They entered a broad lounge hastily turned into an infirmary. The scene was grim: wounded naval officers sprawled across the floor or slumped along the walls, some barely conscious, others groaning in pain. Makeshift bandages stained with blood told of rushed care. Three bare-chested men loomed over the scene, silent but vigilant, sea-slick muscles gleaming in the lamplight. Each bore a dark tattoo on their forearm—an inverted tree, triangular in shape. One of them wore a blood-soaked dressing on his wrist. The glances that crew and patients cast toward the trio were filled with dread.

“Please, Sister… help them,” the crewman begged. “Some are fading fast…”

“I’ll do all I can,” Vania replied, kneeling beside the nearest sailor. She moved efficiently, examining wounds and applying care with calm precision, using the supplies provided. Dorothy observed everything through the shared link, processing each detail.

‘These three are the hijackers. The takeover succeeded. They’ve assumed control. Still… they show mercy. They want the wounded saved. That deviates from what we expect of the Abyssian cultists. This feels… different.’

When she reached a man struggling to breathe, Vania subtly invoked her Light Path abilities, threading radiant energy beneath her fingers to knit together torn flesh and ruptured vessels. As the sailor’s breathing steadied, a deep voice spoke behind her, heavy with an Ivigese accent.

“You’re… one of the Glorious Church’s gifted? I’ve heard stories. Women in white who seal wounds with prayer.”

Vania looked up. The speaker, leader of the trio, was Bahoda. He studied her with open interest.

“I am,” Vania answered evenly. “I walk the Path to Salvation, a servant of the Saint Mother’s mercy. Your decision to spare these men—it’s not gone unnoticed.”

Bahoda nodded slightly. “All life carries worth. Though we clashed in arms, their fight has ended. I see no honor in senseless slaughter. And besides,” he added, eyes fixed on her, “a ship full of living souls has greater value to our mission… Priestess of the Lamp.”

“Dignity… compassion…” she echoed, sensing an opportunity. “Yes, our faith teaches love for all beings. Perhaps there is—”

Bahoda abruptly scoffed, his expression sharpening. “Love? Grace? Easy words to utter. Your Glorious Thunderbolt offers neither. You crush every faith not birthed from your own flame. Doctrines unlike yours burn in your hearth. Lives outside your bounds are nothing to your blades. Your creed sanctifies conquest. How can you speak of grace while cloaked in a martyr’s garb, when your hands are stained with inquisitors’ sins?”

His voice shook with long-buried fury. “You talk of peace? Of sacred love? Yet your Church wields righteousness like a dagger. You defile sanctity with pious lies!”

The force of his outburst struck Vania like a blow. Dorothy, listening closely, felt a hypothesis form.

‘Not just hijackers… dissenters. Opponents of the Lamp’s expansion. Now this… is interesting.’