A metallic taste—bitter, yet sickeningly sweet—flooded his mouth.
The sky was ablaze. Ruins and rubble blanketed the vast wastelands and the peaks of what had once been majestic mountains.
Cold corpses littered the earth. Friends. Foes. All had fallen—all in the name of a dream, the blind ideal of a Star that had once promised to burn the world to ash.
And so she had.
And now, that star hung high in the dead sky, burning brighter than ever before.
Sunny stared up at Changing Star.
Nephis.
His teacher.
Trusted ally.
Friend.
Master.
And, once, the woman he had loved so deeply.
Watching her hover above the world she had set alight, only a single emotion burned alive in his chest. It roared like the Flame of Desire that birthed all of creation, and it was as venomous as the Void that constantly threatened to devour it.
Hate.
***
"Wake up, Sunless! Your Nightmare is over! Your Nightmare is over! Your—"
"SHUT UP!!!"
A blade cleaved through the air, striking the talking rock he had placed on the nightstand the evening before. It let out a dull thud, tumbling unharmed to the foot of the bed.
Sunny jerked awake, his eyes snapping open to the familiar gloom of the Priestess's secret chamber within the cathedral he had once called home.
Yet, the moment his pitch-black eyes—eyes where shadows found their sanctuary—adjusted to the darkness that only he could pierce, the short, scrawny kid from the outskirts was gone. In his place was a different Sunless.
The one who had led, alongside other volunteers, the first military expedition to Antarctica.
The man who had shattered the chains of Fate and the shackles that made him a slave, only to—in a catastrophic lapse of judgment—willingly place the collar back around his own neck in the name of blind love.
The Sovereign of Death who had explored the darkest, most foul depths of the Dream Realm.
The shadow left behind by a dead god, who had unearthed the secrets the Gods themselves had buried, and lived to tell the tale.
Lord Mongrel.
The Devil of Antarctica.
The rightful heir of Death.
The bastard child of Fate.
Nobody.
Lost from Light.
As he slowly acclimated to the severe limits of his young body—a mere drop in the ocean compared to the boundless expanse of his Sacred self—Sunny threw off the covers and rose from the bed.
The sensation was entirely surreal. Standing up, he took a couple of steps across the room, as if learning to walk all over again. With every step, his lips twisted into a warped, manic grin.
Sunny stopped in the center of the room, staring blankly ahead.
First, his gaze drifted to the small wooden table to his right.
Then to the wardrobe on his left, still holding the old garments of the Priestess who had once inhabited these quarters.
Finally, to the massive bed behind him.
"Ahah..." a treacherous, irrepressible chuckle slipped from his lips.
At last, Sunny lowered his eyes to his youthful hands. He raised them, flexing his fingers into fists and opening them again, just to be certain he wasn't dreaming.
"Did I actually do it?" The question sprang naturally into the gloom, the byproduct of a past-future life spent unraveling lies and discerning reality from illusion.
His mind, following an instinct as old as time, willed his runes to appear.
---
Name: Sunless.
True Name: Lost from Light.
Rank: Dreamer.
Shadow core: Dormant.
Shadow Fragments: [212/1000].
Memories: [Silver Bell], [Puppeteer's Shroud], [Midnight Shard], [Ordinary Rock], [Endless Spring], [Weaver's Mask].
Echoes: —
---
"Weaver's Mask?"
These were his runes exactly one week after leaving the cohort in the Outskirts of the Bright Castle. Exactly seven days after leaving Nephis.
"Nephis."
The name echoed in the darkness, spilling from his mouth as bitter as poison.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides. An old, bittersweet feeling clawed at his heart—an emotion he had long since buried, and one he now forced himself to bury even deeper within his dark soul.
Something he should have done from the very beginning.
"It's fine," Sunny told himself, his gaze turning vicious. "This time, I won't let her have her way."
Then, he read the rest.
---
Attributes: [Paradox], [The Weave], [Flame of Divinity], [Child of Shadows].
Aspect: [Shadow Slave].
Aspect Rank: Divine.
Aspect Description: [You are a miraculous shadow left behind by a dead god. As a divine shadow, you possess plenty of strange and wondrous powers. However, your existence is empty and lonesome; you mourn the passing of your former master and long to find a new one.]
Innate Ability: [Shadow Bond].
Ability Description: [Find a worthy master and let them know your True Name. Once they recite it out loud, you will be bound to their will, unable to disobey any command. It is improper for a shadow, let alone a divine one, to walk around without a master.]
Aspect Abilities: [Shadow Control].
Aspect Ability Description: [Your shadow is more independent than most. It is an invaluable helper.]
Flaw: [Clear Conscience].
Flaw Description: [You cannot lie.]
---
It was all there. All his runes were there.
Sunny read them over and over again to be sure, shocked to see that against all odds, Weaver's entire legacy had carried over with him through the regression.
Finally, his gaze fell upon the last golden string at the very bottom of his status.
---
Master: —
---
It was blank.
"Ah..."
He had done it.
"Ahah..."
Despite all the hardships.
"Ahahah..."
Despite every obstacle and impossible implication.
"Ahahahah..."
Even though it defied all logic.
"Ahahahahah..."
Sunny had actually done it.
"AhahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"
He had traveled back in time.
At last, throwing his head back and spreading his arms wide into the shadows, Sunny surrendered to the laughter.
Mad, uncontrollable laughter echoed through the gloom.
Lost from Light had returned, and this time, the entire world would be at his mercy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~