but her nap was fitful , fraught with nightmares , the frightful shadowy spectre of necrolius always ending up in each , looming over her , long , green , black-veined fingers reaching hungrily for her face ... she bolted awake to find herself flying over gyssian sails , endless gyssian sails , the warships beneath huge and bulky , their muted deck and portal lights throwing hazy sparks of yellow light on unfathomable black waters .