The flickering lights from the wicker torches scorched the grassy surface of the carnival grounds providing enough light needed to illuminate the hour on Babylonium. The hour was sweet and full of amazing life, layer upon layer of it so vast that one could visit yearly and not even begin to experience all of its wonders. The Crowded arenas and Palisades this day were alight with a different sort of energy, an energy that was built from the buzzing of whispers. They started out as a low hum on the periphery of the island those whispers, than gradually rippled throughout the area building in force amongst the arena attending crowds so that the noise (if heard from far away) sounded like the rumble of an approaching army that contained a great power. The event that fuelled those whispers to life was of course the disappearance of the Cargo ship, The Gabrezze.
Many ships had been lost to the Isabella in the Abarats' long seafaring history; but there were not wars and girls from the Hereafter coinciding with them. What made The Gabrezze even more the topic of hushed talks was that it was said that a young shipmate had survived the wreck, and was seeking asylum in Xuxux from the Guards of the Kings temples.
"I heard from my cousin third time removed, that a giant sea creature from the realms of the Hereafter was to blame." Said one man standing line waiting patiently to attend one of many operas.
"Silly man," replied a lady, "It's that Mater Motley, how convenient that it should happen so close to her shores. I don't know what on earth anyone would be doing making passage through that straight."
"Well t'is the shortest route to Soma Plume" Said another man, "Cheap on fuel."
The man who had spoken initially piped up again, "I also heard that it could be that Christopher Carrion, though he's been reported dead. Not that I'm complaining or anything wretched man, the less Carrions the better I always say."
The second man of the group tilted his head towards the two and lowered his whisper down another octave
"I heard that this is the sign of more trouble to come, I've heard that whatever got that ship, and I heard that ship was pulled down by a force, not sunk by accident, but whatever it was is ancient evil. That this could be the end my friends."
The woman and man that made up his audience stood silent for no more than half a second, as if contemplating the idea, than both laughed simultaneously. "Yes, yes," said the woman. "All stories of gloom and doom I'm sure. It's most likely the ship hit something and they all panicked, simple as that. Happens all the time out at sea."
This scene of hushed rumors being whispered a plenty was not contained to Babylonium alone, in fact those whispers had reached the shores of most every island and most every ear. Perhaps no ear would have been more interested than the ruler of Commexco city, Rojo Pixler, for though he had many "eyes" already surveying the seas depths no form of ancient creature had since turned up. Up in his great towers of his illuminating city Pixler paced his viewing chambers contemplating a way to make passage through the straight to deploy his under water spies without alerting Gorgossium of his presence. Even though Carrion, a man he had intensely feared, was dead it seemed he had an even greater fear of Mater Motley and her horrid stitchling army. Pixler, however, knew the urgent need to know of what attacked that ship and then an idea came to him. He would have to send out one of his many spies, or perhaps create a new one, yes one that resembled some hideous thing that might reside on the Midnight Island to find that sole survivor of that ship. See what this boy knew or what he saw, and if possible invite him to Commexco. Pixler turned towards the door and set about to inform his scientists that new designs were to be made.
Back on the island of Idjit the locals, who either by genetics or by skill managed to live amongst the lightening, were hardly aware of the ill-fated ships demise. The fact that the island was sparsely populated was not only highly unsurprising giving the conditions, but a large factor in their ignorance to current events. There weren't any great commercial businesses or factories settling their productions at 2 am. It was inhabited only by a simple group of people who survived in what, to the rest of the Abarat, seemed like inhospitable and harsh living conditions. It was this day, the same day Pixler was plotting his spying techniques, that a boy on idjit named Ewan was rowing around on the shores of the island taking a break from his detested ritual of daily chores to do a little fishing. His little row boat, that he had become some what of an amateur fisherman in during the past year, was painted on the bottom in the traditional red and glided him along towards a small and rather desolate cove of the island that he had never had the privilege of visiting before.
Ewan would often daydream of leaving Idjit one day, away from chores to sustain life on the island and onto a great city, like Commexco, where he could live in splendor and never have the worry of lightening bolts ever again. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he barely took notice of how close he was to rowing straight into the cove, and before he could gather his wits a powerful current was pulling him in much faster than he had anticipated. Ewan struggled to row away from the cove but being only fourteen he could hardly manage as the current got stronger the closer he got. Before he knew it he was being swept right into that cove and his eyes were able to make out a red tinged mist swirling out from a tunnel of whirling water. He looked above him to see ravens, hundreds of them, flocking about, almost worshiping the swirling area below. Than a thought occurred to him, that he was going to be heading straight for that whirlpool and that filled him with an awful fright. He held on to his oars and tried desperately to steady himself away from the raging waters but it was to no use.
The small fishing boat began to encircle the outer layers of the whirlpool and to Ewans surprise he got a glimpse of something within the whirling depths. He was shocked, yet curious; to see that the birds were indeed flocking to something beneath the whirlpools surface, and as he swirled closer to it he could observe the direction those birds were flying. It was obvious that the surface of the whirlpool and its murky red fogs hid a great many things, because as he was being sucked down he realized that he was now underground. Somehow this whirlpool seemed not to be natural at all, it was almost an illusion, but who would have put this here, for as much as he knew this had been a natural phenomena for at least twenty years.
The rowboat was now past the whirling waters and beneath the island above, gliding in a channel of water in and underground cave. As he floated along oarless, as he had lost them in the strength of the whirlpool, his eyes filled with a most eerie sight. What those ravens had been flying towards was now a sight before his very eyes. It looked like an enormous cathedral, a black church, rising up out of the red mist and those crows flew around and around cawing hysterically as if attempting to revive something, or someone their very souls were dedicated to. The gruesome image of dead bodies along the banks revealed the true horrors of this underground land, and many ravens gorged upon them in between their flights of worship. This was not a place a young boy such as himself wanted to be. He did not want to end up dead and a feast for ravens, vultures or any of the sort. He was right thoroughly terrified by the site of this most nightmarish temple and thought perhaps if he lied in the boat as flat as he could he might sail by unnoticed until he found a way out of the depths of idjit. So Ewan did just this, and he closed his eyes and prayed for safe passage through the realms of the Nightmare Cathedral.