Scylla Page 6


Scylla page six opens with soft panel borders, signaling a flashback to the conversation Ventrik has been having on previous pages. In these opening panels, Ventrik sits at his laptop, issuing calm instructions to get the equipment ready. On the screen, his assistant Tanya reports that Mr. DeBarett has just stormed through the outer office in a visible rage, nearly “steaming.” Ventrik dismisses DeBarett as irrelevant, echoing the emotional detachment and authority established on page five, and states that they will be heading "down within the hour."

Between the third and fourth panels, the visual language shifts. The fuzzy borders disappear, and although Ventrik appears nearly unchanged, the setting resolves into the present moment deep within the caves. The similarity of his appearance bridges past and present, revealing that the earlier exchange was preparatory context for what is already underway. Now underground, Ventrik is illuminated by the sickly green glow of a wrist-mounted device, surrounded by tight, organic tunnel walls. In response to his query, Tanya confirms that “she” is in motion, traveling from the necropolis on level four. The page ends with a sudden, violent explosion from streets above the sewers and tunnels. The green readout flaring as the scene erupts into chaos, transforming the earlier, controlled planning into immediate and dangerous reality.

Chapter 03: Scylla – Page 06

When working on SCYLLA page six, I thought about how memory feels on the page, not just how it’s labeled. Rather than calling out a flashback with captions or dialogue, I wanted the art itself to quietly signal that we were stepping backward in time.

The opening panels use softer borders paired with pale blue background tones. The blue background isn’t meant to describe a literal space, but to drain the scene of immediacy. The vibrant color lives in the characters and the foreground elements, while everything else fades into a cooler, less tangible space. It creates a sense that this conversation, the one Ventrik is having with Tanya, (and previously with DeBarett) exists slightly out of phase with the present. It’s real, it mattered, but it’s already slipping away as we read it.

I enjoy the transition that Jackwraith created between panels three and four. Ventrik barely changes. His posture, expression, and presence remain almost identical, but the fuzzy borders vanish, the blue drains away, and suddenly we’re there. The caves are solid. The danger is current. That similarity was intentional. We want the reader to feel how thin the line is between planning and consequence in this story. One moment you’re calmly discussing logistics, the next you’re standing underground with something moving toward you.

From an art standpoint, this page also feels like a quiet marker of progress. Looking back over the last year of Dystopia, from Midwife, Aborted into SCYLLA, I can see how much more trust I’ve placed in visual language. Earlier pages leaned harder on structure and clarity. Now, I’m more comfortable letting color temperature, border texture, and repetition do narrative work without explanation.

Maintaining the regular publishing rhythm you’ll see on the archive page has been a big part of that growth. Working week to week forces decisions to be made, instincts to be trusted, and lessons to be carried forward immediately rather than endlessly refined in isolation. Each page becomes a snapshot of where we are creatively at that moment. This one, with its pale blue memories dissolving into green-lit stone and violence, feels like a fitting reflection of where SCYLLA sits right now. The past is still close, but the story has very much moved on, and there’s no clean way back.

Thanks, as always, for reading closely and noticing the quiet choices.
— ALFA