"So? What do you think?"
Silence.
Eurys didn't answer. Not immediately.
Sunny stood with arms crossed, watching the skull. It was hard to read expressions from a face without skin, but he could tell—the old bastard was unsettled.
He had told him everything.
Cassie's vision. The sand that wasn't sand. The rotting light. The rusting shadows.
And that something… someone… knew.
The skull clicked its tongue against bone, a hollow sound that echoed like teeth tapping in a mausoleum.
"…Sounds like Azarax," Eurys finally muttered. "He was punished by the gods, too. Though not for anything as noble as treason."
Sunny frowned. "You think it's him?"
Eurys hesitated. "Could be. That kind of decay… fits. But it was never this strong before."
A pause.
"Something's changed."
Sunny's eyes narrowed.
'Azarax…'
The name alone tasted like rust.
He remembered the tale—how Azarax, while still a Saint, had murdered his own Supreme father. How he had done so and then walked out Sovereign.
A Saint, killing a Supreme?
Unheard of. Unless something foul tilted the scale.
Sunny turned away, began pacing the shadowed length of the throne room. The citadel around him groaned in response, shadows flexing with every step. His thoughts raced.
'It doesn't add up. Unless…'
He stopped mid-step.
'Unless he evolved.'
His own Aspect Rank had once been Divine.
Now?
Unknown
A path not recorded. Not catalogued. Not meant to be walked.
Sunny's eyes narrowed. What if Azarax… changed, too?
Eurys spoke again, quieter this time.
"…You're thinking about it, aren't you?"
Sunny didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
—Unknown—
The First ####.
The one that saw everything. The one that witnessed the doom war and entered the Shadow Realm for merriment. The one who created a relic from a god's blood.
The thought sat in his chest like a second heart, beating slow and wrong.
"Doesn't matter," Sunny finally muttered, more to himself than the skull. "No answers here."
He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose.
There was nothing to be gained from staring into ash.
So—
He returned part of his focus to Gloomy that was currently with the cohort, while Crazy continued weaving, attempting to imitate the [Mantle of Lies].
---
Back on the Forgotten Shore, Nephis was staring at Sunny.
Not glaring, not judging—just watching. Quiet. Patient. As if expecting him to hand her the truth.
Sunny said nothing.
He was thinking.
Wondering just how much to share.
And how much to keep buried.
'For now…'
His thoughts curled like smoke.
Maybe it's better to hold off. For their sake.
Knowledge had weight.
Too much of it could corrupt.
"I'll explain," he finally said, tone mild. "When the time's right."
Nephis didn't argue. Cassie gave a small nod.
And Caster?
He was still in fear of when his shadow would next attempt to trip him over.
They continued west, trudging through the dead dust and coral. Toward the Dark City. Toward worse things.
Eventually, the land dipped—an ancient wound in the soil, wide and yawning. The Ashen Barrow loomed behind them, its lone tree now a memory. Sunny had already claimed its shadow, along with the one belonging to the Carapace Demon.
His right as their Scion.
The air was chill, but the sky hadn't shifted much—still early morning.
Cassie rode comfortably atop Fenrir, her hands resting on his thick, dark fur. Nephis and Caster walked alongside, boots crunching softly in the coral-infested ground. Sunny led.
They passed the edge of the barrow.
And found the crater.
Sunny stopped, boot toe scuffing the brink. The slope dropped steeply. Below stretched a gaping scar too wide to circumvent.
He scowled.
'This again…'
Last time, they'd wasted hours crafting a crude boat to cross. Not an option now.
He had plans. Timetables. Secrets to keep.
He tapped a finger against his temple.
Then looked at the crater again.
Then at Fenrir.
Then at the long shadows painting the slope.
And finally, he smiled.
"…Perfect."
"Hey, buddy," he called out.
Fenrir's ears perked. The massive wolf trotted over obediently, leaning his enormous head down so Cassie wouldn't be jostled.
Sunny patted his neck absently, still grinning. His eyes flicked to Nephis.
"Lady Nephis," he said, mock-formal.
She approached, expression unreadable.
"Get on," he offered, gesturing to the wolf's back.
Nephis didn't hesitate. She vaulted up behind Cassie with ease, steady as ever.
Caster, meanwhile, watched the proceedings with a frown slowly blooming on his face. He opened his mouth to ask a question—
Too late.
Sunny raised a hand. A flick of the wrist.
A gesture so slight it barely existed.
But shadows heard.
And they answered.
The crater's gloom twisted. Surged.
Dozens—hundreds—of shadows spilled upward like a reversed waterfall. They converged, congealed, snapped into order.
Pillars rose. Lattices formed. A path of darkness built itself across the vast wound—wide enough for Fenrir, supported by writhing arms of pure night. It gleamed like obsidian, lit only by the glimmer of madness.
Sunny didn't wait.
"Go!" he barked.
Fenrir leapt.
Before anyone could blink, the wolf lunged sideways—snatched Caster in his jaws.
Didn't bite. Didn't maul.
Just held him. Dangling. Like a chew toy.
"—what the fu—" Caster managed to yell, but Fenrir was already charging.
The shadows ran with him, weaving the road as fast as his paws fell.
Behind them, the structure began to crumble. Slowly, deliberately. Like the world was correcting itself.
Sunny was already gone.
He had stepped through shadow, emerging on the far end of the crater with casual grace. A blur.
After all, his essence reserve was bottomless now—fed by the massive Fragment of the Shadow Realm itself.
He turned, casting out his senses, threads of awareness spiraling back through the darkness.
Cassie—startled, but steady. Nephis was keeping her anchored.
Caster…
Sunny blinked.
Caster was flailing like a corpse on a string. His limbs windmilled uselessly, cloak twisted around one arm. From what Sunny could sense, he was alive—but deeply offended.
Fenrir wasn't being gentle.
Sunny smirked, folding his arms.
"…He'll live."
Probably.
Maybe.
Best not to ask.
And so they crossed—on a road that wasn't supposed to exist, riding a wolf too large to fit in stories, with a blind girl, a silent flame, and a screaming trauma victim dangling from its mouth.
Just another morning on the Forgotten Shore.
---
By the time evening rolled in like a dying tide, Fenrir had reached the far end of the crater.
He hadn't slowed.
Hadn't stumbled.
Hadn't even looked winded.
The massive wolf finally came to a stop, paws skidding softly across the cracked stone. Cassie clung to his fur, her hair windswept, face calm—though her grip betrayed a hint of tension.
Fenrir's jaw opened, and with all the gentleness of a butcher's throw, he dropped Caster onto the ground.
The poor guy hit the dirt with a wet splat.
Covered from head to toe in warm, glistening drool.
He rose with an audible squelch, his clothes plastered to one side, hair sticking up in feral tufts. His expression was pure, righteous fury.
"I will not—" he began, voice trembling with indignation, "—let such blatant disrespect stand—!"
He turned.
And saw Sunny watching him.
Quietly. Calmly.
Like a god waiting to see if the bug would keep crawling.
Caster deflated instantly. A shuddered breath escaped his lungs. He coughed, adjusted what remained of his dignity, and silently slunk away.
Nephis dismounted next. She didn't climb off Fenrir—she flowed off him. Graceful. Effortless. Her boots touched the ground with the sound of snow falling. A statue come to life.
Cassie, still seated, gave a puzzled tilt of the head in Sunny's general direction.
They stood now at the very edge of the crater. It yawned behind them, vast and empty. And before them…
The Dark City.
Perched on a jagged shelf of stone, wrapped in mist and shadow, it looked less like a city and more like something haunted.
Its walls were old. Weathered. Built from ashen stone that had long forgotten warmth.
Sunny narrowed his eyes.
He could feel them.
The corpses. The fallen creatures.
Dozens… maybe hundreds.
Their shadows slumbered beneath the surface—some curled, some still twitching with hunger.
Requiems of battles that never truly ended.
"Hey, Cass…" he murmured.
She turned slightly, curious.
"Hold on tight."
She blinked. "Why—?"
Too late.
Sunny turned to Nephis and, with a casual intimacy that held totally no romance, draped an arm around her shoulders.
"Let's go," he said.
Then they vanished.
A whisper of black. A flicker of absence. One moment they were there—the next, gone. Swallowed by shadow.
A heartbeat later, they appeared again—on the top of the city's wall.
The air was thinner here. Yet not colder.
The horizon stretched, veiled in dying light.
Fenrir wasn't far behind.
With a deep, rumbling growl, the wolf leapt—impossibly, absurdly—soared upward, paws slamming down atop the ancient stone. Cassie remained steady, clutching his fur, her expression caught somewhere between awe and secondhand anxiety.
And finally—
Caster.
Dragged. Not by his own will. Not by choice.
But by his shadow.
The silhouette beneath him stretched, rose, coiled around his limbs like phantom rope. He kicked, cursed, flailed against the incline—yet still it pulled, climbing the wall like a spider hauling its prey.
"You traitor!" he shouted at his own feet. "You Judas! I made you!"
The shadow did not respond. It merely continued its climb, completely unbothered.
Eventually, he reached the top.
A wheezing, bitter mess of a man.
But he was alive.
They had made it.
The Dark City. At last.
A place of death. Of silence. Of broken things.
Sunny looked over the crimson spire, his eyes distant.
This time, the expedition had gone smoother. Less screaming.
But that was only because an imposter sleeper had ensured their journey.
"Remember" he spoke calmly, letting his voice be heard, "For now I am Sleeper Sunless."
---
Do tell if you have ideas/recs for Azarax's abilities.