Chapter Text
July 20, 1899
The Unterzee is restless, and so is my crew. We docked at Demeaux island earlier this morning, and I’ve permitted them shore leave while we load the cargo. Food supplies are running low, and my crew is hungry. It’s been ages since we had good meat, but I don’t know if we can afford to lose another man. I’m not sure how much the rest of the crew know— but they’ve been on edge recently. There’s a subtle terror that’s been working its way into our midst, but our journey isn’t much longer now, and I have faith in our ability to last it through.
July 21, 1899
We lost another man today. His death was swift, silent. We told the crew he had disappeared on the island. Our lies have always been convincing— but still, I think the rest of the crew is starting to suspect what we’ve been doing. Some of them have heard stories about the madness that inflicts zailors, about what goes on at the Chapel. Three of them now have told me that they plan to depart when next we dock in London, but the zee is a dangerous place. It’s entirely possible that they won’t still be with us when we return. We head towards Frostfound, one last stop before we reach the Chapel. We’ve begun to see flakes of Neath-snow in the air, and the cold is biting and merciless.
I’ve been preparing for my journey North. This may be the last time I visit the Chapel of Lights before my final departure. That ravenous, unaccountable hunger has settled deep into my bones, become a part of me, and there’s only so much that it can be satiated by flesh. The dreams have been growing sharper, darker, more insistent. North. North. North. I have to go North. Soon all of this will become too much to hide, and people will see the obsession that’s taken hold of me. But past a point, none of that matters anymore. Soon, I shall go North.
July 22, 1899
One of the lookouts saw something out on the zee today. She said it was in the shape of a man, but huge, hunchbacked and grotesque, with luminous white eyes that shone with sharp clarity against the dark waters. She swore that it looked at her, and that she could see malice in those eyes. By the time she had found someone else to show it to the creature had gone, or so she claimed.
I’m not convinced the creature was anything more than some vision or hallucination, but the last thing I need right now is more unrest among the crew. I’ve appointed more lookouts, allotted more fuel to the prow-lamp. If the creature does turn out to be real, we’ll be able to see it coming, at the very least.
July 23, 1899
Four zailors saw the shining-eyed creature today, as I was taking lunch in my cabin. I fear it’s undeniable at this point that the thing is, indeed, real. They said he was in a tiny fishing boat, cutting a northbound path alongside our ship, and that his eyes really did shine like mountain-sherds. There’s been some debate as to what, exactly, he is. A rogue starved man, an unfinished pirate, a zee-beast mimicking the form of a human. I’ve permitted that the crew keep the prow-lamp constantly burning, despite my worries about our fuel supply. But if anything is going to be a problem on this voyage, it’s the fear and paranoia that’s permeated our ranks. Extra lookouts and more light are enough to placate them at the moment, but if things go on like this I fear mutiny. Frostfound is still days away, and even the zailors who I know to be loyal to me are restless.
July 24, 1899
Quite a number of things have happened in the last twenty-four hours. Some of the crew glimpsed the shining-eyed creature again in the early hours of the morning. Tensions have been rising for weeks now, but this creature has been causing my crew more terror than pirates, zee-beasts, or cannibalism ever could.
It wasn’t until hours later that the strangest thing happened, though. As we neared Frostfound the crew began to hear a voice, carried on the zee-breeze. As we drew closer a tiny island made its way into our sights. It was not one that appeared on my chart— or at least, it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. I could make out a human figure through the fog, what appeared to be some stranded traveler flagging us down.
The crew was hesitant, and urged me to leave the island well alone. There were all manner of sirens and mimics in these waters, they told me, and the creature they had seen was still out there. I ignored their protests, and sent three of the least cowardly ones down in a row-boat to investigate the stranger. I had a feeling about this, that there was something of interest to uncover.
When they brought her onto the ship she was near dead, shivering violently and struggling to stand.
“You were right, Captain.” Said one of the men who had brought her aboard. “She’s no zee-beast. I reckon she’d have died out there if we hadn’t found her.”
“She may still die, in this condition.” I said. “Bring her to my cabin, get her warm.” This strange woman fascinated me. I thought, at the time, that she might be useful to me— in one way or another.
“Wait.” She said, turning to look at me. There was something wild and desperate in her eyes. “Are you going North?”
I faltered, surprised. Surely, I thought, there was no way she could tell I was a Seeker simply from the sight of me. I’ve been trying to hide my inclinations from outsiders for as long as I can— surely there was no way this stranger could tell what I am.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked her.
“This vessel.” She said. “Is it headed to the north? I have- I have a mission, you see. If you’re zailing south, I beg that you leave me here, so that I can complete my mission in peace.”
She didn’t know the truth about me, as I had thought— but still, there was something in her eyes that was far too perceptive, analyzing me as much as I was studying her.
When I told her we were heading north she seemed to relax somewhat, leaning on the nearest zailor for support as they guided her to the captain’s cabin.
I had meant to retire to my quarters as soon as possible, but after resolving the matter of this new island with my navigator and attending to the other matters my work demanded of me, it was several hours before I was able to speak to the woman.
When I entered my cabin I found her leaned over in a chair, a half-drunk bottle of Greyfields in her hand. She looked up at me as I entered, and there was still a hint of the same wild energy I had seen earlier in her expression.
“Captain.” She said. “I thank you for your hospitality. I don’t know what I would have done, had you not happened upon me.”
“Or if we had been southbound.” I said.
I could see her thought process as she realized I wasn’t going to be satisfied without an explanation for why she was here. An explanation she was all but obligated to give, as indebted as she was to me.
Her response was calculated. “Yes. It was quite a stroke of luck, that you found me.”
“Indeed.” I said. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. What’s your name?”
“Victoria Frankenstein.” She said. “But I’ve always just been called Vic.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vic.” I said, offering my hand as I sat down across from her. “Captain Roberta Walton.”
She hesitated for a moment, but her handshake was firm. “Again, Captain, I’m immensely grateful for your help.” She seemed to be growing more confident.
I studied the woman for a moment. Now that I had a chance to take in the details of her, sitting in my cabin in her shirtsleeves, it was evident how sickly and disheveled she really was. She was stick-thin, with not a shred of good meat on her bones, and her hands were marred with burn scars. A Correspondent, perhaps. With her tangled hair pulled away from her face I could see more clearly her sunken cheekbones, the dark circles under her eyes. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, but her dark hair was already streaked with grey.
“Frankenstein. Have I heard that name before?” I asked, hoping to gauge her reaction.
She sighed. “It’s possible. We were a fairly well-known family.”
“You’re a high society type, then?”
“Not anymore.” The hint of grief that crept into her voice served only to heighten my interest.
“How did you come to be stranded here?” I asked her, a measure of curiosity in my tone.
“I was marooned by the zailors I was traveling with.” She said, looking at me to gauge whether that would be enough information to satisfy me. Upon meeting my gaze, she continued, “They… had learned of my mission, and feared my presence might prove a danger to them.”
This was interesting. I hadn’t yet come to a conclusion on whether she too was a Seeker of the Name, but the vague bits of information I had managed to pry from her pointed toward something quite like that, indeed.
“Should I be worried, Vic? Is your presence here a danger to my crew?” I asked her.
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “The danger is only to me. So long as you don’t interfere, you and your crew will be safe, I swear.”
I leaned in closer, just slightly, as I asked the question I could tell she had been hoping to avoid. “What exactly is your ‘mission?’”
Her eyes narrowed as she returned my gaze, and I could see her thinking. “I’ve made mistakes.” She said. “Mistakes that haunt me still. There are demons from my past that I must put to rest.” Her expression was guarded, but I could see pain behind her eyes. Pain, and a hint of that same energy I had seen in her before— something electric and fierce, undercut with grim determination.
“I’ll be honest with you, Vic.” I said. “This whole situation— I’m intrigued by it. I want to hear your story. Whatever it is that has brought you across the zee, it must be something interesting.”
“You might not believe me if I told it to you.” She said, avoiding my gaze. “You’d think me mad.”
“I’ve seen a lot of things that are hard to believe.” I challenged. “I have an open mind.”
Frankenstein shook her head. “Still. It’s best for you not to know. My mistakes should die with me.”
“My men saved you from near-certain death.” I said. “I’ve shown you nothing but kindness and hospitality, and yet you refuse to even tell me the circumstances that led to our meeting? You fascinate me, Frankenstein. You're the first real object of interest I've encountered on this voyage. I only want to know your story.”
She bit her lip as she looked at me, considering her options. She understood that my appeal for information, however politely phrased, was not a request.
“It concerns the strange creature we’ve seen out on the zee in past days.” I said. “Doesn’t it?”
She looked up, a look of surprise breaking through her stoic contemplation. “You’ve seen him? He’s close? This creature you speak of. Was it-”
“Tall and disfigured? Eyes shining like mountain-sherds? Making its way north, alone on a tiny fishing boat?”
“That’s him.” Frankenstein nodded grimly. “I’m closer than I thought.”
“You’re pursuing him?” I asked.
“I’m pursuing him. He’s pursuing me. It’s this twisted game of chase that we play, each trying to hunt the other down.” There was emotion in her voice now, a hard core of bitter anger wrapped up in several more complicated feelings.
“Who is he?” I probed, drawn in by the story her reactions were building.
“He…” She hesitated. “He’s a monster. A product of my mistakes.”
“A product of your mistakes.” I repeated, turning the phrase over in my mind. “What do you mean by that?”
“I… I don’t even know how to explain what he is.” She said. “Not without starting from the beginning of my story.”
“Start from the beginning, then.” I said. “My crew can spare my presence for a while longer.”
“I…” She seemed to get lost in her thoughts and it was several moments before she continued. “My history is long and tragic, Captain. I’m willing to tell it to you— it may even be good that I have someone else to witness it— but I’m tired now. I don’t wish to speak of this any longer, for the time being. Can I satisfy you with a promise? A promise that you’ll hear the truth once I’ve recovered enough of my energy to tell you everything?”
“I suppose it’s only fair that I allow you a full night of rest before asking something so taxing of you.” I conceded.
“Thank you, Captain.” She replied. “I appreciate your patience. I know you must be burning with curiosity. You seem the type who can’t bear to leave a question unanswered.”
There was an accusation in her tone— but also, just underneath it, a hint of sympathy.
“Indeed.” I paused, calculating. “And I do have quite a few questions about you, but all will have to wait.” I stood up from my chair. “I should get back to my work. I’ll return later.”
She nodded. “Until then, Captain.”
After this I left her again, returning to the deck. I was occupied by a number of tasks, and by negotiations with the first mate about supply rations and prow-lamp fuel. The whole time I worked, Victoria Frankenstein remained on my mind. The circumstances under which we had found her were interesting, but every word she had said since— and her insistence that she needed to gather her strength before telling the whole story— had only intrigued me more.
When I finally returned to my quarters for the night Frankenstein was asleep, wrapped in the extra blankets that had been brought to her, her knees curled up to her chest. The intensity she usually had was gone from her expression, and in such a vulnerable state she seemed even weaker and more sickly than she had upon our meeting. She had pushed herself to the breaking point, to the edge of permanent death, and for what? To pursue this creature?
Writing this now, I still haven’t managed to make sense of the woman. There’s something so captivating about the mystery of her. Even in such a diminished state, she has a clever, biting kind of intellect, and simply conversing with her, after so long with only my crew for company, has a certain thrill to it. And the mission she speaks of— she may not be a Seeker, but there’s a wild, desperate need that I sense in her, a kind of destructive urge that’s all too familiar.
There's something so incredibly enticing about the mystery of Victoria Frankenstein. She’s like a puzzle to me, and one that I’m determined to solve.
July 25, 1899
We haven’t seen the creature again since we brought Frankenstein on board, but tensions are still high among the crew. They’re wary of her, still not convinced that she can be trusted. I hear whispers, rumours and speculation about this mysterious woman. She mostly stands out on the deck now, looking out at the zee. She’s watching for him, I think.
She still owes me her story. I would be lying to say I haven’t been burning with curiosity since our conversation yesterday, but I’ve decided to wait until the end of the day to approach her. In the meantime, I occupy myself with my usual tasks. We are due to dock at Frostfound within a day, and with the current state of my crew most of the administrative work has fallen to me.
Evening
Some hours after lunchtime I approached Frankenstein. She was in the same place she had been nearly the whole day, leaning on the deck’s railing as she gazed out over the peligin waters.
“Are you looking for him?” I asked her.
She turned around, startled, as if she hadn’t seen me. “I… partially, yes. Mostly I’m just thinking. This has to end, sometime. One of us has to die eventually. I think he intends it to be over soon, one way or another.”
“How long have you been pursuing him?” I asked.
She fell silent, measuring the time in her head. “It’s been nearly a year, by my count.” She said. “It’s hard to keep track of the months, at zee.”
“That it is.” I said. There was a moment of silence between us before I spoke again. “What has he done to you, that you would be so devoted to chasing him down?”
“He took everything from me.” She said, a hint of bitter grief creeping into her voice. “But I took everything from him first. His creation was the greatest act of violence I ever inflicted.”
She looked out at the zee for a moment, lost in her thoughts, before turning back to me. “I’m sorry, Captain Walton. I owe you a story.” She met my gaze. “It’s good, that someone else will finally know the whole truth. That if I die before I can bring him to justice, someone, at least, will know what happened to me. I…” She paused, considering her next words. “I have a request for you, Captain. I’ve seen you writing in your journal. If I’m going to tell you the events that have led me here, I’d like you to record them. I have a brother, back in London. It would bring me peace to know that if I die, the truth about what happened to our family will get back to him somehow. He deserves the truth.”
I nodded. “I’ll write it down, if that’s what you want.”
“Good.” She looked around. “We’d best return to your cabin. It’s going to take a while to tell you everything.”