They had survived.
Sunny could hardly believe it. Not just the outcome of the battle—though that alone bordered on miraculous—but the strange, surreal reality that he was still standing, heart still beating, breath still drawing into tired lungs. Somehow, against all odds, they had made it.
Yet what struck him more was not the survival.
It was how *he* had changed.
Once, not so long ago, he'd have been staggered by a victory like this. Now, standing at the edge of a blood-soaked battlefield littered with the broken remnants of monstrous beasts, he was… calm. Worn, yes. Bone-deep tired. But calm.
Another step had been taken.
Soon A fifth Shadow Core would be pulsating quietly inside his soul, gleaming like a distant star.
He was one step closer to Tyrant-class.
Together with Saint, he had helped bring down over two hundred Awakened abominations. A slaughter. A triumph. And the Spell, in its usual stingy manner, had tossed him a mere two Memories in return.
Typical.
Still, something about the moment made him pause. He didn't rush to inspect them. For once, he just… breathed. The aftermath hung like mist around them—soft wind brushing past, the smell of scorched air and damp earth settling. Somewhere behind him, Cassie was quiet, listening.
Eventually, he stirred.
"Let's see what my Shadow dragged back this time…"
The first Memory rose before him in a shimmer of runes.
**Memory:** [Dark Wing]
**Memory Rank:** Awakened
**Memory Tier:** I
**Memory Type:** Garment
**Description:** [This cloak is as light as a dragonfly's wing… and as durable.]
Sunny stared at it, his expression unreadable. One of his eyebrows gave a subtle twitch.
"...Huh."
He exhaled slowly and muttered, "Maybe there's an incredible enchantment…"
**Enchantment:** [Glide]
**Description:** [Allows one to levitate slightly above the ground and slowly move in any direction, or glide down softly from any height.]
He frowned. It didn't sound impressive. Still… sometimes, the runes lied. Or rather, didn't tell the whole truth. Diving into the Soul Sea, he summoned the sphere of pale light that held the Memory and let his senses drift into its spellweave.
Flight. A rare, treasured thing.
He'd heard stories—rumors of wings , of cloaks and armor that let their wielders take to the sky like gods. But those were the toys of high-rankers, of Saints. For someone at his level to hold anything close to that was a stroke of wild luck.
Except… this wasn't that.
Not really.
At best, the Dark Wing allowed a few meters of gentle hover, a slow, controlled descent from a height. No velocity. No maneuverability. Certainly not combat viable.
With the Prowling Thorn and its invisible thread, he could already swing, pivot, reposition with more grace than this cloak allowed. Sure, it was risky. But it worked. In a fight, this dragonfly-winged thing would be more a death trap than a tool. One hit and it'd rip like wet paper, sending him plummeting.
Not great.
He sighed. Then paused.
Maybe not *great*… but maybe not useless, either.
'Should I feed it to Saint?'
He glanced at the stone warrior standing nearby, eternally stoic. She was close to becoming a Demon. Even a weak Memory might help nudge her forward.
But before the thought could settle, something made him hesitate. A flicker of intuition. A memory of wind and fall and helplessness.
No. Even a flimsy glide could mean life instead of death, someday. More mobility meant more choices. And choices… meant survival.
From the shoulder of a giant colossus, perhaps.
'Yeah. I'm keeping it.'
Just then, something shimmered at the corner of his vision.
He turned—and stilled.
Cassie stood not far away, her white-blonde hair tousled by the breeze. A transparent cloak had appeared on her shoulders, delicate and weightless. It shimmered with refracted sunlight, dancing with hints of color—rose, violet, aquamarine—like stained glass kissed by dawn.
It looked like wings. Fragile, beautiful wings.
She lifted a hand, brushing her fingers against the fabric with a reverent sort of awe. Then, ever so slightly, the cloak rippled—and Cassie lifted from the earth, her boots leaving the ground as she hovered a few inches above the stone.
She giggled. Bright. Honest. Unfiltered joy.
Sunny's heart gave an involuntary stutter.
She looked so… *free*. Light and laughing, suspended in the air like a creature from a different world. For a heartbeat, he didn't see the battlefield or the ruin or the blood crusted beneath his boots.
He only saw her.
And maybe it was the way the light caught in her pale hair, or the sheer delight on her face, or the fact that she always laughed like she meant it—but in that moment, the heavy, tangled mess of his thoughts gave way to something quiet. Warm. Dangerous.
A feeling he didn't want to name.
'It's nice… that she's happy.'
His lips curved into a faint smile. He didn't smile often—rarely had reason to—but hers always felt worth it. Something about her laughter slipped under his armor in ways blades never could. Something unguarded.
It made his heart act up.
'Don't think about it.'
He closed his eyes briefly, breathed in, and turned away—retreating, as he always did from things that made him feel too much. There was still one more Memory left.
**Memory:** [Blood Blossom]
**Rank:** Awakened
**Tier:** II
**Type:** Charm
Sunny's eyes sharpened.
Charms were rare. Far rarer than weapons or armor. They didn't shield or cut—but what they lacked in form, they made up for in power.
'Please be good… please…'
**Description:** [No matter how much blood was spilled, her hunger only grew.]
He blinked.
"...Creepy."
**Enchantment:** [Flower of Evil]
**Description:** [This beautiful charm imbues all Memories and Echoes of its wielder…]
Then, right before his eyes, the runes shifted.
[. They receive an overall enhancement when used against a bleeding foe, and grow more powerful the more their prey bleeds.]
He froze.
An aura enchantment.
His breath caught in his throat. Aura enchantments were legendary—affecting not just the wielder, but everything under their command. And this one strengthened all his assets—Memories, Echoes, Shadows—as long as his opponent bled.
And the more they bled…
His mouth parted slightly.
"…Beautiful."
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Sunny flinched. He glanced around sharply—half-expecting a snide remark or a loud laugh.
No Effie.
She was on the far end of the platform, mercifully occupied.
He let out a quiet breath and wiped the sweat from his brow.
'Phew. That was close.'
Still, a grin slowly curled across his lips—wide, gleaming, dangerous. He leaned back against the stone, letting himself savor the victory in silence.
'Sorry, Saint. You'll have to stay hungry a little longer…'
'*'
By the middle of their second day traveling through the Labyrinth atop the ancient colossus, a dark line began to rise on the horizon. It was barely more than a faint scar at first—thin, distant, almost unreal—but with each slow, thundering step of the statue beneath them, the line thickened and sharpened. Shadows gathered along its edge.
Mountains.
Soon, there was no mistaking them. Jagged and colossal, the mountain chain loomed across the skyline like a sleeping beast, its fangs tearing into the pale sky. Pristine white snow clung to the distant peaks, while mist curled down the slopes in soft ribbons, threading into ravines and pouring over ridges like breath from some ancient, unseen mouth.
The sight was haunting.
It was also humbling.
This was the place where the first Lord of the Castle had vanished long ago. The edge of the Forgotten Shore. The end of the map.
And the beginning of something far more uncertain.
Sunny stood near the edge of the platform, arms folded loosely, staring out at the rising peaks. But his attention kept slipping—not just to the mountains, but sideways. Just a few steps away, Cassie stood quiet and still, her head tilted slightly, pale hair stirring in the high wind.
She couldn't see the view, not the way he could. But there was something peaceful in her face, as if she *felt* the grandeur of it all anyway. As if the breathless hush in the air reached her in ways no sight ever could.
The corners of Sunny's mouth twitched.
He didn't say anything. But he didn't look away either.
As the colossus drew nearer to the mountains, the full scale of the peaks became brutally clear. Even the towering statue, once a behemoth in Sunny's mind, now seemed small. Ant-like. Dwarfed by ridges that pierced the heavens and cliffs veiled in eternal snow.
He glanced again at Cassie.
She was still there. Still quiet. Still reaching for something only she could sense.
He took a step closer.
The terrain around them had begun to shift as well. The Labyrinth's crimson coral had started to thin. The mounds of twisted, organic spires grew fewer and lower, while black soil and ancient stone outcroppings began to show through. It was as if the Labyrinth itself was retreating, or being pushed back by the presence of the mountains.
And then… the colossus began to slow.
Its massive steps grew sluggish, like someone wading through invisible molasses. Sunny furrowed his brow. The statue leaned forward slightly, as if pushing against a gale. But there was no wind. Just a pressure. A resistance.
A curse.
Even this creature, ancient and mighty, could not walk freely past the border of the Forgotten Shore.
And then… the giant stopped altogether.
Stone creaked and groaned in protest. But there would be no more steps.
This was as far as the colossus would carry them.
Harus, Effie, and Nephis were already climbing down. Sunny, Cassie, and Kai lingered at the edge of the circular platform. A soft wind curled around them, tugging at loose strands of hair and cloaks. Below, the landscape stretched out into dark soil and stone, dappled with mist.
Sunny let out a slow breath and turned toward the charming archer.
"If this doesn't work," he muttered, "you're going to catch us, right?"
Kai raised his eyebrows, his golden eyes gleaming.
"Why, of course. It would be my pleasure."
Sunny made a face. "That's… not exactly reassuring."
He turned away before Kai could say anything else and summoned the Dark Wing. Instantly, two gossamer wings, as clear and delicate as crystal, shimmered into existence on his back.
He didn't look at Cassie right away. Instead, he held out a hand—open, steady.
When she slipped her fingers into his, something eased inside him. A quiet certainty, unspoken but strong. Her hand was small and cool, but the way she gripped his told him she wasn't afraid. Not really. Not when he was with her.
Taking slow, careful steps, they moved together toward the edge of the platform. He could feel her beside him—close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm with every step. Her breath, soft and warm, curled past his cheek.
It should have been terrifying.
But it wasn't.
One of his shadows was already on the ground, scouting ahead. The Stone Saint stood below, a tiny black shape amid the rock, standing sentinel. That knowledge calmed him. But not nearly as much as the presence of the girl at his side.
Cassie's hand squeezed his once more.
He glanced at her.
Her face was tilted to the wind, lips parted slightly. She looked almost like she was dreaming. No fear. Only wonder.
He didn't want to let go.
But he had to.
"…No sense in prolonging this."
Gritting his teeth, Sunny gave the mental command to the Dark Wing—and stepped into the sky.
For a heartbeat, his body rebelled. Instinct screamed. The ground was gone. The wind roared. Gravity surged.
And then… peace.
His descent caught, slowed, turned into a graceful glide. The wind cradled him like a gentle hand, and the two translucent wings behind his back blurred with motion. He hovered, suspended in open air, drifting downward like a falling petal.
Cassie hadn't jumped yet.
He turned to look.
She stood on the edge, face lifted to the sun, her pale hair whipping behind her like a silk banner. She looked ethereal. Untouchable.
"Cassie," he called. "It's safe. I've got you."
She smiled—bright, unguarded—and stepped forward.
The wings of her own cloak flared to life. And then she was airborne, too.
Sunny reached out and caught her hand again, steadying her mid-air. She laughed—a bubbling, radiant sound that made something ache in his chest.
"This is *amazing!*" she said, wind rushing past her.
Sunny tried to hide the grin threatening to split his face. He failed.
He didn't know what surprised him more: how much he was enjoying the flight… or how natural it felt to share the sky with her.
Together, they spiraled downward. Every movement was subtle—a shift in weight, a lean into the wind—and the Dark Wing responded like it was part of his body. Cassie, too, moved with a strange, instinctive grace. As if she *belonged* in the air.
Their fingers never parted.
The wind played in their hair, whistled in their ears, cooled the heat rising in Sunny's chest. He stole a glance at her mid-descent. Her cheeks were flushed with joy. Her laughter echoed around him like music.
So he held onto that feeling—of weightlessness, of warmth, of the way her hand felt nestled in his—and didn't let go until their feet touched the ground.
He landed first, light as a feather, near the silent form of the Stone Saint. A moment later, Cassie joined him, still beaming. He didn't release her hand until she did.
Behind them, Kai glided down effortlessly, while the others began to descend in their own ways.
'…This Memory might be better than I gave it credit for,' Sunny thought, still catching his breath. 'Not for battle. But for this? For *her*? It's perfect.'
They regrouped in the vast shadow of the statue. The wind was softer here, the mountain presence looming over them like a slumbering titan.
And then, the colossus moved.
Stone groaned. The earth shivered. With slow finality, the ancient giant turned and took a massive step away from them, heading east along the spine of the mountains.
Away.
Sunny watched it go, something like reverence tugging at his thoughts.
The Stone Saint watched, too—her ruby eyes unreadable. He studied her quietly, trying to guess what stirred behind that blank mask.
Not awe. Not respect.
…Disdain?
The thought unsettled him.
Had the giant simply been a copy? A hollow imitation of something greater—like the armor of the Black Knight had been? A failed echo of the spark that had given true life to the Stone Saint?
He didn't know. But the thought lingered.
Eventually, the colossus vanished into the mist. The tremors faded. Silence returned.
Nephis turned from the mountains and looked to the others.
It was time to find shelter.
Tomorrow, they would begin the search for the lost expedition.
Tonight… Sunny found himself still holding a lingering warmth in his chest. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But for a few, stolen minutes—suspended between sky and earth—he had flown beside her.
And that, for once, had felt like enough.
'*'
They stood in a loose circle around the cairn, a silent vigil cast beneath the pale, desolate sky. Each of them wore somber expressions—except for Cassie, who had quietly leaned into Nephis, burying her face in the warrior's shoulder. She stood there like a porcelain wraith, delicate and small, wrapped in silence.
The truth of the grave weighed on all of them. Though none had ever met the Dreamers of the first cohort, they had walked in the echoes of their legends for so long that it felt like mourning the grave of a fallen comrade. This lonely marker, hidden beneath the ashen skies of the Dream Realm and surrounded by empty wilderness, was more than a memorial. It was a reminder.
A reminder that in this cursed place, every life lost was a piece of humanity chipped away.
Sunny lingered by the stones, his eyes narrowing slightly. Among the rough shapes, he noticed that one bore a carved inscription. The letters were simple, human. Not runes. The real kind—strange and oddly intimate here, surrounded by the unreal. He squinted, lips pressed into a flat line.
*Her nightmare is over.*
He read it again. And again. The words cut deeper with each repetition.
"...Rest in peace, whoever you are," he thought, jaw tight. "I hope your dreams are sweet, now."
A bitter taste bloomed in his mouth. He turned from the cairn sharply, not trusting the tightness in his throat.
Behind him, the others slowly began stirring from their silent reverie. Kai's voice broke the stillness, soft and laden with sorrow.
"I guess… this is what we've been looking for. The First Lord and his expedition definitely passed this way. But what now?"
Nephis studied the cairn a moment longer, then faced him with a steady gaze. "There should be an entrance to an old mine somewhere nearby. From what Cassie saw, this is where they went."
Sunny's brows drew together. A cold ripple of unease slid down his spine at her words, a whisper of something off-kilter. He turned, scanning the group, and found Cassie standing alone a few steps away—still, silent, her face tilted slightly toward the pale mist trickling down the mountain slopes.
Too quiet.
The back of his neck prickled. He raised a hand subtly to Nephis. She caught the signal, then followed his gaze—her face darkening in a flicker of realization.
She moved to Cassie swiftly and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
Cassie flinched.
Sunny stiffened. His muscles coiled in a quiet, reactive tension.
"…Cassie?" Nephis asked, voice low. "Did you see something?"
The blind girl's pale face had gone ghost-white, stark against the drifting mist. Her breaths were short, unsteady. She looked like she might collapse.
Then she spoke.
"The mist… we must get underground before it comes. If not, all of us will die."
Her voice, while quiet, had the kind of finality that froze the air around it.
Nephis didn't hesitate. She turned instantly, eyes flashing.
"Sunny! Night! Find the entrance to the mine—*now!*"
Sunny was already moving. His mind clicked into place like a mechanism snapping into gear. Shadows poured from his feet, slicing away from him and rushing across the quarry like ink on stone. Kai launched skyward.
No panic. No hesitation. Just calculation.
'Of course there was something wrong here. No coral, no creatures, no sound. Just death waiting in silence.'
He gritted his teeth.
"Harus, Effie—get ready to move the second I give the word!"
The mist was pouring faster now, sliding into the valley like a quiet flood. Behind him, Nephis summoned her sword. Cassie floated a few feet into the air, her rapier already drawn, the curved steel glinting as her blindfold rippled in the rising wind. Her wings shimmered behind her, ready.
Sunny glanced at her for the briefest second.
She looked like something out of a dream—a fragile wraith cloaked in resolve. But there was a tremble in her fingers, subtle but there. Fear.
He moved to her side, brushing close.
"You stay with me," he muttered, voice low and rough. "No matter what."
Cassie turned her head toward him, her lips parting slightly. But whatever she meant to say was swallowed by the growing howl of the mist.
Sunny closed his eyes, shifting his senses into his shadow. The world became a monochrome impression of outlines and edges—then he found it. The mouth of the mine, carved into the mountain like a black maw, hidden by age and stone.
His eyes snapped open.
"Found it," he barked. "With me—*now!*"
They ran.
The cohort moved with the urgency of the damned, sprinting across stone and dirt toward the jagged wall of the quarry. The mist clawed at their heels, flooding downward in a silent avalanche.
Kai dropped beside them, pointing.
"There! There's an opening!"
They plunged into the narrow path, sprinting between massive blocks of stone. At the end, the dark archway of the mine opened up like a promise and a threat.
Sunny reached the edge of darkness first and skidded to a stop. He turned—just once—and stared into the mist boiling down behind them.
It was seconds away.
His instincts screamed.
He dove into the shadow, disappearing into its cold embrace.
A heartbeat later, the world outside was swallowed by grey.
'*'
This place was a trove of ancient secrets—tangible proof of long-buried truth carved into shadow and stone. It would have made Teacher Julius proud.
Sunny could almost picture the man's reaction—sharp eyes glittering behind wire spectacles, fingers already twitching to jot notes into his ever-present book, lips pursed in wonder and suspicion both. Returning with the origins of the Dark Sea, the crimson spire, the lost expedition… it would be more than payment. It would be proof that knowledge hadn't drowned with the old world.
Not that Sunny planned to stop there. Julius had given him more than instruction. In his own awkward, stubborn way, Sunny intended to give more back.
But for now… he had a job to do. And he had to do it blind.
This was the last shard of insight Cassie had managed to wrest from her fragmented vision—more a fractured impression than a path. She could tell them little except this: once they crossed the river, they had to keep their eyes closed. At all costs. No matter what whispered, what moved, what *called*. To look would be to break something fundamental inside themselves.
Cassie hadn't said what she'd seen in the moment the vision shattered. But her silence had been telling enough. Cassie, who dreamed of screaming loved ones and starless horrors regularly, had been *afraid*.
And so, Sunny would lead them. As always. Quietly, efficiently, with a cold pulse of logic and the barest flicker of something warmer that he didn't let himself name.
While he couldn't use the shadow to see—not safely—he still had his Shadow Sense. Shapes. Depth. Movement. Patterns. The unseen architecture of the world. A crude echo of sight, but reliable in his hands.
They gathered on the bank of the river, the water black and unmoving like oil beneath a cold sky. One by one, they tied the golden rope around their waists.
Nephis moved down the line like a high priestess performing a quiet rite. Her expression was unreadable, lit faintly by the silver-white flame on her palm as she held wax and blindfolds in hand.
"You're first," she said softly to Effie.
The huntress wrinkled her nose but didn't argue. Her bravado faded under the quiet gravity of the moment. She stood still, oddly small beneath Changing Star's touch.
There was a strange, intimate stillness to the act—Nephis melting wax with her palm, brushing it gently over her comrade's eyelids, then pressing cloth over it to seal them from the world. It felt like a sacrament. A trust handed over without words.
One after another, they submitted to the ritual.
When Nephis stood before Sunny, he didn't move. Didn't flinch. But when her cool fingers brushed his cheek and tilted his face upward, his jaw clenched. Her scent—soft, clean, like fire and rain—lingered too close. He exhaled through his nose, saying nothing.
The wax was warm. Her touch precise. For just a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her breath near his ear and the feel of her fingers brushing the curve of his temple. Then, silence.
He was blind.
And now, perhaps, he understood Cassie a little more.
The sudden darkness was disorienting—not terrifying, exactly, but *wrong*. No edges. No color. Just the dull hum of shadow and space. But even here, Sunny could map the world. His mind shifted, calculations sliding into place, spatial logic building like a puzzle laid flat in his palm.
Cassie stood quietly beside Nephis, her presence an island of stillness in the damp air. Her head turned toward him just slightly, as though she *felt* his discomfort. He didn't speak. He didn't need to. There was something in the thread between them now—tension stretched thin by unspoken things. Trust. Reliance.
Cassie hadn't spoken since giving the warning, but he could feel her fear like static in the air. She had seen something. And it had broken her silence.
He would not let her walk into that darkness alone.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's move."
He guided them to the boat, helping each one board in silence. His hands lingered a little too long on Cassie's arm as he helped her into the center seat. Just a brush—fingertips steadying her elbow. But he felt the faint tremor in her skin before she masked it.
Sunny found the oar and began to row.
Mist swallowed them whole.
The deeper they drifted into that white world, the more the weight of silence pressed down. The water whispered against the hull, the wood creaked beneath them, but no one spoke. Even Effie. Even Harus.
It was like sailing between one heartbeat and the next.
'Not scared,' Sunny lied to himself. 'Just… cautious.'
And yet his grip on the oar tightened each time the fog shifted. He kept remembering the veiled figure that had spoken to him once with a stolen voice. It had tried to lure him then. What if this was where it had come from?
What if it was still waiting?
Still, he rowed.
Time passed like breath in a closed throat—unmeasured and slow.
Eventually, the brush of the oar struck stone beneath the hull. The other shore.
Sunny climbed out first, his boots scraping wet stone. He tied the rope, then helped the others out, one by one.
He was careful with Cassie. More careful than with the rest. His hand found hers in the dark and steadied her without a word. For a second, her fingers curled around his. Light. Hesitant. Grateful.
Nephis was there, too. Ever watching, ever calm, but her gaze lingered on him longer than usual—even blind, he *knew*. Something passed between the three of them in that moment, fragile and undefined. A triangulation of understanding in the dark.
He released Cassie's hand. Stepped back. Cleared his throat.
"There's another boat," he said gruffly, turning his back to the river. "Theirs. They crossed here, alright. But they didn't come back."
No oracle to guide them. No one to warn them not to look.
He gave the others a moment to absorb that, then tugged the golden rope.
"We move."
As soon as he stepped into the tunnel, his entire body went rigid.
Not because he couldn't see—but because the *shadows* here felt wrong. Ancient. Heavy. Like something old and vast had sunk into the bones of the mountain and never left.
He walked forward anyway.
Because he always did.
Behind him, Cassie's voice was a quiet presence in the mist. Nephis was fire and steel at his back. Together, the three of them moved deeper into the dark.
Until suddenly, Sunny froze.
His breath caught.
A shadow… not old. Not monstrous. *Human*.
'*'
They were not ghosts.
The shadows that lingered here had no souls. No voices. No memories.
The Bright Lord's cohort had not died the way most did—not through violence, not through despair, but through something far crueler: erasure. Their very being scoured from the world, leaving behind only void-shaped silhouettes. Slaves without masters. Echoes of loyalty cast in darkness.
Only one among them had endured.
And now, even he was gone.
Nephis stood over what remained of the Bright Lord's body. The bones had not crumbled. The crown had not rusted. Even in death, he remained... *whole*. Purpose had anchored him, and when it ended, he had simply stopped.
She could feel the weight of the crown in her hand. Not physical—it was not heavy—but something deeper. A thread of obligation that now curled around her spine, cold and invisible. She hadn't taken it out of greed or pride. She had taken it because someone had to.
Because she understood what he had tried to do.
The light faded. The final spark of him vanished.
She lowered her head.
"…Thank you."
There was more she might have said. She could have told him he hadn't failed. That the path he carved through the dark had not been for nothing. That she, too, had once been alone at the end of a war, and understood what it meant to keep walking anyway.
But Nephis had learned the cost of speaking such things aloud.
So she stepped back.
Kai moved forward instead, sincere and unguarded, as he always was. He bowed deeply, lingered, then said what many of them likely felt but hadn't dared voice.
"Thank you. We will… we'll finish what you started."
His words rang out over the water and echoed into the hollow dark.
And then, silence.
The blind girl was the one to break it next. Cassie didn't speak, but turned toward Sunny—her expression unreadable, but somehow always aware. She was too quiet, sometimes. Too perceptive.
Nephis watched the two of them, briefly.
Before anyone else could answer, Sunny's voice cut through the hush.
"No. Just leave him."
He didn't raise his head. Didn't meet their eyes.
"He wanted to be close to his friends when he died. So… don't touch him."
His tone was flat. But Nephis had come to recognize the places where silence hid the truth. He was angry. Not at the Bright Lord. Not at them.
At something deeper. Something he couldn't fight.
She looked at him and said nothing. Because she knew how it felt to stand where he was standing now.
A moment passed. Then another.
Nephis let her gaze drift toward Cassie again. The blind girl stood still as a statue, her face half-turned in Sunny's direction. She didn't speak. But there was a softness in her stillness. A kind of waiting.
Nephis exhaled silently.
Her hand brushed the edge of the headband—the Memory that had answered her, not with power, but with *recognition.* It had been left behind deliberately. Not forgotten. *Entrusted.*
Sunny spoke again.
"That headband… what's it called? No, wait. Let me guess. *Dawn Shard? Dusk Shard?*"
She tilted her head and smiled faintly, despite herself.
"It's the Dawn Shard," she answered. Then, dryly: "Do you want it as your payment?"
He laughed—just once, quiet and surprised.
She hadn't expected him to laugh.
But she had said it that way on purpose.
She watched his eyes as the tension in him slipped for a breath, a crack of something brighter peeking through.
"No, no need," he said. "Answer me one question, though. How exactly is that thing supposed to help us defeat the Spire?"
Nephis shrugged. "See for yourself."
She summoned the Memory. It shimmered into place above her brow, weaving itself from soft light. The gemstone in its center glowed faintly.
And then… she felt the shift. The surge.
So did he.
Sunny's posture changed slightly, his breath caught. He blinked and glanced down, as if seeing something only he could perceive. His expression grew distant—focused, sharp.
She didn't interrupt. She simply waited.
She knew what he was seeing.
"The Dawn Shard possesses a single, but also singularly powerful enchantment," she said at last. "It empowers all Memories within its range. And the range is very large."
He didn't answer at first. Still watching her. Not the headband. *Her.*
There was a different light in his eyes now—curiosity, yes. Calculation. But something warmer beneath. Something she was used to pretending not to see.
Cassie didn't say anything, but Nephis could feel the girl's presence shift behind him. The silence said enough. There were always quiet things between them. Unspoken, unresolved.
Nephis let the moment pass. She wasn't interested in claiming what wasn't hers.
But she did not look away from Sunny.
He was already calculating. Planning. Reassessing their chances.
She saw the exact moment he realized just how much this changed.
Their weapons would strike truer. Their armor would hold longer. The Sleepers wouldn't just be meat for the slaughter anymore. They would stand.
Only the Echos remained untouched. That would be a problem later.
But not now.
Now, they had hope.
They pressed on. Eventually, they reached the vast cavern hidden within the Hollow Peaks.
And Nephis… *stopped.*
Even she felt the scale of it. The air was old here, heavy with unspoken purpose. The floor was covered in black sand. The walls glittered like volcanic glass. And in the center stood a massive pillar of stone—half-carved, half-trapped.
A warrior being pulled from the mountain itself.
Nephis looked up at the unfinished statue. At its armor. At its shield.
She didn't need to guess.
The Black Knight. The Saint.
And the head… was missing.
*Of course it is.*
She sensed the moment it moved before it fully emerged.
From the base of the statue, something uncoiled.
A creature of limbs and feathers, bone-white and black-winged. Massive. Sinister. Familiar.
A Spire.
A Messenger.
And then, from Sunny—
"Yes."
His voice was quiet, but there was hunger in it. Not bloodlust.
Something deeper. *Purpose.*
Nephis smiled slightly.
This time… they were ready.
'*'
**[Nevermore's Embrace]** pulsed faintly on his chest, drawing the faintest threads of essence with each breath. Not enough to ignite the enchantment. The armor devoured energy like a starving thing, and even with Serpent helping him recover his shadows, it wasn't enough—not yet.
The twin yatagans of **[The Honor Bound]** were already in his hands. Familiar. Weightless.
He didn't hesitate.
"KAI!" he shouted, voice cracking like a whip across the battlefield. "GET TO THE STATUE! I'LL HOLD IT HERE!"
He didn't scream just to organize the cohort.
He screamed to be *heard.*
To be *noticed*.
To make himself a *target*.
The Herald reacted instantly—eyes snapping toward him, wings twitching in anticipation. It could feel the challenge in his voice. Good.
Let it come.
Four of his shadows surged into motion, weaving into him as he ran. His speed doubled, his stance sharpened. He knew the rhythm of this thing now—the first attack would be the beckoning strike of its hooked beak, sharp enough to skewer a man whole.
He ducked under it at the last second, rolling hard to the right as wind sheared past his cheek. Feathers like obsidian razors slashed through the air where his head had been.
But he was already moving—twisting out of the roll, flipping the grip on one blade, and lashing out with a punishing slash at the smaller set of arms that reached for him. He didn't aim to dismember. He aimed to *distract.*
The Herald screeched—jagged, inhuman, piercing enough to rattle bone.
But the true cry of pain came a heartbeat later.
One of its eyes *burst* in a spray of black ichor.
Nephis had struck.
The **[Twinsbane]** had whispered its way into the creature's eye socket without warning. Her first strike—silent, decisive, merciless.
Then the others were moving.
Effie darted left with her usual reckless grace, bronze spear gleaming as she opened a shallow gash along the beast's wing joint. She danced back before the claws could retaliate, a smirk flickering across her lips.
"Ugly *and* slow," she taunted, breathless. "Not your day, huh?"
Harus circled behind, slower but purposeful, chains coiled like serpents in his hands. Not the best weapon for a winged terror, but the hunchback was biding his time, eyes locked on the creature's spine.
And Nephis—*Changing Star*—did not seek safety.
She charged headlong into danger, her blue cloak flaring behind her like a comet's tail. She didn't flank. She *confronted.*
Her longsword was wreathed in ghostly silver flame, burning without heat. The sword didn't hesitate, and neither did she.
The Herald slashed at her with its front claws, each strike fast as a thunderbolt. But none of them landed.
Because Sunless had already moved again.
He severed the connective tendon between its back leg and hip—not deep, but enough to slow it. Enough to tilt the rhythm of its attack. Enough to make it *miss.*
Effie kept it distracted, jabbing at its flank. Harus moved closer. Nephis slipped beneath a swipe that could have gutted a Lesser, and *removed* the second small arm entirely.
Her sword moved like judgment—cold, final, and exact.
The Herald shrieked in true fury now. Its wings flared wide—blacker than the void, jagged with curses etched in bone and feather. It *knew* now. Knew it would die here if it stayed grounded.
It surged upward, flapping once to escape.
To slaughter them from above.
But it didn't rise.
The right wing jerked—and *stopped.*
Chains wrapped tight at the base.
Harus had moved. *Leapt.* His body twisted with impossible strength, arms anchored behind him as the enchanted waterskin he'd drunk surged through his veins. Every muscle swelled. Every tendon burned. His eyes bulged with the strain, but he held.
The **Dawn Shard** amplified everything.
Elixir. Muscle. Will.
He roared, and the beast *stumbled*, momentum broken. It did not fall from the sky—but it wavered just long enough.
Sunless didn't hesitate.
He dashed forward—faster than before—his blade arcing upward in a flash of silver.
He clipped the right wing at the joint. Not a full severing. But enough.
The creature fell back to the earth, dragging feathers and shrieking hate behind it.
It could no longer fly.
But it could still *kill.*
Sunless planted his feet, blades at the ready, breath burning in his lungs.
"NOW, KAI!"
Somewhere behind them, the idol boy ran—straight for the statue.
They just had to keep the beast here. Just a little longer.
And he would do that.
Sunless moved again—silent, fluid, formless.
Like a shadow without shape.
His body flowed between the creature's faltering swipes, each step guided by cold precision. He had fought Heralds before. Dissected their carcasses for bone and sinew, stripped them of talons, harvested the cursed essence woven into their sinewy frames. He *knew* them. Knew how they breathed. Knew where they broke.
And now, clad in Ascended armor that drank from his essence like a leech—its enchantments amplified by the presence of Nephis's crown—he knew exactly how to kill one.
But he didn't.
Because that right was not his.
Kai had touched the statue. Kai was the one the ancient power had answered.
So Sunless didn't go for the heart. He aimed lower.
The Herald's towering body was supported by reverse-jointed, digitigrade limbs—limbs built for immense weight, for brutal pounces and ruinous landings. But their very design left one critical vulnerability: the exposed tendons just beneath the knee.
Sunless slipped past a sweeping claw and drove his blade low, slicing through sinew with surgical efficiency.
The beast reeled.
Its leg buckled, its movement hobbled. The momentum that had once given it dominance now betrayed it, throwing its towering mass off balance. It snarled, wings thrashing, but it was slower now—*heavy* with injury, with inevitability.
He wasn't alone in the assault.
Nephis had already devastated its forelimbs, carving through plated joints with fire and steel. Her strikes had left one arm half-limp, trailing uselessly in the dust. Effie had peppered its flank with spear thrusts and gouges, turning its left side into a mess of shallow wounds that bled slow and dark.
They weren't trying to defeat it.
They were keeping it still.
Holding it long enough for Kai to bring judgment.
And then—an arrow.
Not just any arrow. One of *his*. One Sunless had gifted to Kai as a mark of graduate . It struck the Herald in the neck with a sharp *thunk*, then erupted in a burst of jade-green energy, showering sparks and flame. The creature screamed—a raw, grating sound—but staggered forward anyway.
Another arrow followed.
This one struck beneath the beak, embedding deep into bone. But the Herald, maimed and reeling, didn't stop. It lurched forward, its wings dragging, as if some cursed instinct compelled it to keep moving until the very end.
That was when the last arrow came.
A gleam of steel and starfire—Kai's Shot, guided by grace and fury.
It pierced the creature's abdomen cleanly. Slid between armor plates, parted muscle and sinew, and ripped upward. A perfect hit. The kind meant to end.
The Herald convulsed.
A wet, gurgling cry escaped its throat as its innards spilled out in steaming ribbons. It stumbled, falling to one side, wings twitching spasmodically. Its claws gouged at the earth once more, but it was no longer trying to rise.
It was dying.
Sunless exhaled softly, a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
The blow had landed.
The beast had fallen.
And Kai… had ended it.
'*'
Everyone had ended up sprawled on the black sand, caught in that surreal silence that always followed a brush with death. Not all for the same reason, of course.
Harus looked like someone had pulled his bones out and left the skin sack behind. He was still reeling from hauling nearly a ton of cursed flesh. His body just wasn't built for that kind of violent, full-body movement—not even after drinking an entire enchanted waterskin and chaining up a flying monstrosity.
Effie, on the other hand, had simply flopped backward onto the sand like she was trying to imprint herself in it. Whether it was the adrenaline crash or sheer post-fight giddiness, she looked more like a happy corpse than a wounded one.
Cassie crept out from her hiding place, her steps tentative at first, then quicker once she was sure the battlefield wasn't going to spring back to life. She went straight to Nephis and Sunless. A few bruises, muscles burning like they'd been dipped in acid, but otherwise they were alive. For Neph, that was saying something. Whatever her flaw had done during the fight, it had left a pale sheen of pain behind her eyes. She didn't complain. She never did.
Kai, ever the prince among men, decided to lower himself to their level—literally—by flopping down beside them with an exaggerated sigh, as if that had been the most natural place to be all along.
For a while, the only sound was labored breathing, fast-beating hearts, and the distant hiss of cooling ichor.
And still, it was worth it. The Spire Messenger was dead.
They weren't.
Effie was the first to crack. Lying on her back, one arm flung over her face, she let out a quiet laugh. Then a louder one.
Sunless tilted his head to look at her with an exhausted side-eye. "Have you finally lost it?"
She didn't answer right away. Then she shrugged and winced. "Maybe. But I was just thinking… are we legendary heroes now? Or just, you know, legendary idiots?"
He blinked. She went on.
"I mean, back in the outer settlements—even the Castle—we all heard the stories. About the first lords cohort killing a Spire Messenger in the throne room. It always sounded so distant. So impossibly beyond us. And now here we are." Her voice dipped slightly. "And we actually did it."
A beat passed. Then, almost softly: "It's weird."
Sunless understood what she meant. Not that he was going to say that out loud.
He let out a sigh and gestured vaguely toward Nephis without even lifting his arm fully. "What did you expect? You're literally in the main character's cohort."
That got a laugh from everyone. A real one this time. Effie barked out a "Ha!" and Kai chuckled beside her.
"I should've been more genre-savvy," Night added, dragging a hand through his hair.
Effie grinned and turned her head toward Sunless. "Honestly, I always figured *you* would see yourself as the main character. You've got the whole broody aesthetic, you move like a demon in battle, and I bet you monologue internally about how no one else understands the world the way you do."
She sat up slightly, mischief glittering in her eyes. "Bet you've got some terrible, dark secret you're hiding, too. Something tragic and mysterious."
For a moment, something in Sunless' chest coiled.
The thought flickered—irrational, immediate—that she *knew*. That somehow, despite everything, despite logic, Effie had guessed about [Shadow Bond]. That she'd seen something.
It passed in a blink.
Then, Harus chimed in with a surprising deadpan: "He really does give off eighth-grader syndrome vibes."
Effie howled, practically doubling over with laughter. That only made Cassie giggle too, quiet and sweet like wind chimes. She reached over to ruffle Sunless' hair gently.
"Sunny's not an edgelord," she said, matter-of-factly. "He's more like a black cat. A small one."
That earned a confirming nod from Kai, and a round of snorts from the rest. Sunless, meanwhile, resigned himself to being petted like a mascot.
But just when he thought the teasing had finally hit its peak, Effie flipped onto her stomach and propped her chin up in her hands, eyes alight with trouble.
"Hey, doofus."
He sighed. "What."
"I saw the face you made earlier," she said in a sing-song voice. "You wanna tell Mommy Effie your deep, dark secret?"
"No."
"Aww, no fun!" she whined like a child denied candy. "C'mon, spill it! I bet it's *really* juicy."
Nephis' voice cut in, firm. "Effie. Drop it."
Her tone was cool. Warning.
Cassie followed suit, quietly but just as firm. "He has boundaries, you know."
Effie pulled a face and threw her hands up. "Alright, alright! You're all so dramatic." She leaned back, though not fully retreating. "Still. If you show me yours, I'll show you mine," she added with a wink.
Sunless ignored the innuendo. He figured giving her *something* would be better than letting her get too close to the truth.
"If you really want to know…" he said, his voice flat, "I have some weird memories. From someone else's life. They're not mine."
That earned him a pause. Silence prickled in the air.
"Sometimes they're clearly separate. Like watching a dream you know isn't yours. Other times, they… blend. I remember people in places they couldn't have been. Friends who were never mine. Faces swapping like bad reflections."
He let some false bitterness color his tone, his gaze distant. "It's messy. Confusing."
Then, he paused.
"But it doesn't really bother me. Not anymore." His voice steadied. "I know who I am."
The moment stretched. Even Effie didn't have a joke ready for that. She blinked, her teasing dying on her lips as realization dawned. Kai sat quietly, his eyes dimming with sorrow—he knew the weight of having your perception messed with, whether by others or the world itself.
Cassie leaned in slightly, her hand still in his hair, and Nephis sat closer, their silence a protective wall.
Effie finally broke the quiet with a sheepish little grunt. "...Damn. That's a lot heavier than I expected. Sorry."
"It's fine," Sunless replied. He even smiled faintly. "You were just being annoying."
That earned a low laugh from her. "Yeah, well. Still."
Cassie and Neph exchanged a glance, one of silent understanding. They'd heard enough to know when he was bluffing, playing something up for effect. If it *had* truly eaten away at him, he would have come to them.
Still, without a word, both of them leaned against him—one on each side. A subtle, quiet show of support.
Sunless didn't protest.
For a few minutes more, no one spoke. No one needed to.
They had killed a Spire Messenger.
They were still alive.
And that, for now, was enough.