1 year and a half ago
Sunny let out a tired sigh as he took a seat in one of the chairs in the meeting room, his gaze lost in the shadows painted by the candlelight while his mind churned.
He had only come back from hunting in the Dark City an hour ago, and he was already regretting returning at all.
He had risked his life out there, and for what? To give it all away to the ingrates who couldn't even be bothered to remember him? His teeth clenched in fury at the mere memory of the receptionist asking him who he was.
He had been part of this mad plan from the beginning, fought and bled so the parasites could live one more day—and this was what he got in exchange? To be treated like an outsider? To feel like a stranger in his own home?
Sunny took a deep breath and let it out. As much as it annoyed him, if he was honest, that wasn't what he was truly angry about. He did not want fame and couldn't care less about what others thought, although it did not stop the anger from rising all the same. But he still hated it.
Not as much as he hated the ugly mix of bitterness and jealousy brewing inside him.
He was meant to meet with Cassie to discuss the next steps in reinforcing the outer parts of the settlement. He had even been looking forward to it. It had been far too long since they had the chance to talk, both of them too busy to spend time together.
And then he was told that she had already retired for the night and didn't want to be bothered. Not even an excuse or an apology—he would have taken anything but being told by a stranger that she wouldn't be seeing him and to try again the next day.
She was avoiding him. She had already been doing it for a while. Had he done something wrong? Said something that had bothered her? Should he apologize? For what? He didn't even know what it was that he had done!
"She doesn't need you anymore. Why bother pretending to care?" a traitorous part of his mind whispered—the same part that was always eager to remind him of his many failures and defects.
It was not the first time the thought had come, and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. It had been a few weeks since they had started with whatever Neph's plan was—another source of bitterness, she hadn't even bothered to fill him in—and every day he saw more and more people inserting themselves into their lodge. With so many helpers around, what need did she have of little old Sunny?
He closed his fists in anger, clenching them so hard that he heard his knuckles pop. Cassie was like a sister to him, and this—whatever it was that she was doing—drew far too many parallels to his life in the outskirts. It was business as usual there: one moment they would call you family, and then, as soon as they didn't need you anymore, they would pretend not to know you.
He thought things were different now. He wasn't a street rat anymore, but a sleeper—the owner of a divine-rank aspect and a true name at that. How disappointingly realistic that it wasn't.
No, he was just blowing things out of proportion. They had spent two months constantly together. He had saved her life more times than he cared to count. What was a few bad days in the face of that?
She probably did not mean anything by it. In fact, Cassie would be hurt if he ever voiced his grievances. So he silenced the voice that whispered of betrayals in the night and buried the bitterness and jealousy where the sun would not shine on them.
He got up to leave for his room. The day had been long and tiring, sleep beckoning like a siren's song. He was stopped when the door of the meeting room opened to reveal Nephis.
For once, she was alone. It had become an increasingly rare occurrence lately. The settlement dwellers were always around her, practically begging for attention. They had started calling her 'Saint Nephis' and every day it felt more and more like a cult—one she was all too happy to feed. Even more surprising, Caster wasn't there either. The Legacy had been glued to her since he had joined them, and it was rare not to see him in the vicinity.
"She has replaced you with a prettier model, taller too," the voice whispered again. He hated that he couldn't even deny it—not when they spent every moment together, and she didn't make any effort to stop it either. He didn't know why he hated it so much, but he did.
How long would it be before she too started to treat him like a stranger?
He shook his head to dispel the thought. They were friends; he trusted Neph like he hadn't trusted anyone before. It was unfair of him to think like that.
Her gaze settled on him, the barest signs of recognition flickering in her eyes. He was going to greet her, but she spoke first.
"Good, you're here. One of the guards has been wounded, and I need you to take over his watch for the night."
He had to bite his own tongue so hard it bled to stop himself from giving an angry retort. First time she deigned to speak to him in two days, and it was to give him an order. Figures.
Was that all he was to her? Another subordinate? Did their time together mean nothing to her? To both of them? Was he a fool for thinking that they had built a bond out there?
"Hello to you too, Neph. I'm fine, thanks for asking," he replied in what he had intended to be a joking manner, but the all-too-real bitterness came out anyway.
"Did I ask?" She stared at him in confusion, the slightest hint of it showing on her stony expression as she moved toward the table and started pouring over the maps, her mind already settling on whatever ploy she would employ next.
From anyone else, he would have taken it as a taunt, but this was Neph he was talking about. The question was sincere. As much as she had improved at pretending otherwise, she still had the emotional intelligence of a rock and probably didn't even realize why he was so annoyed.
At another time, it might have been endearing. He had thought it so when her poor social skills had shown themselves before. But right now? He was not in the mood to give her that courtesy.
So he clenched his teeth, shook his head in silent denial, and moved to leave. He might not like the fools, but he still didn't want them to die because there wasn't someone around to keep watch. Another sleepless night added to the list. The bags under his eyes were starting to grow concerningly large.
As he passed by her side, he noticed that she was exhausted—maybe even more than he was—and he could also tell the signs of aspect overuse. Just how much pain had she been in? What was it that she wanted so badly that she could keep on suffering day after day?
He also recognized her expression. It was her 'I'm tired and miserable, keep me company' face. He could tell because her left brow had a slight incline while the right was perfectly straight. Not to be confused with her 'I'm tired and miserable, leave me alone' expression, whose alignment was the opposite.
Whatever her plan was, she better succeed soon and get them out of here. The lack of sources of entertainment must be doing terrible things to his brain if he was managing to guess her mood by such small signals. He felt tempted to ignore her; she might not have avoided him like Cassie did, but her indifference hurt just as much. Maybe even more, though he wasn't sure why.
But, and curse his soft heart for it, he couldn't. He wouldn't. They were friends—or at least he thought so, no matter what that traitorous voice had to say—and friends were meant to support each other even if they were going through a rough patch.
"Hey Neph, it's been a while since you told me one of your stories. Do you mind telling me one before I go?"
"Now?" She stopped pouring over the maps and turned to stare at him in open confusion this time. Her confused expression could be so cute at times.
"Why not?" he answered with a cheeky smile.
Nephis sighed and motioned toward one of the makeshift couches, inviting him to take a seat. Despite her apparent irritation, he did not miss how her shoulders had slightly relaxed, how her frown had become a little less prominent, and even the slight upward tilt of her lips.
He took a seat, and immediately after, she sat too, right at his side—close enough that they could almost feel each other's warmth. She needed to learn about proper distances. If he didn't know how bad she was at socializing, he might have misinterpreted the action.
Fortunately, he was saved from going further down that rabbit hole by her voice. It sounded as neutral as always, but he could detect small traces of nostalgia in it. She liked telling stories, probably because it reminded her of her grandmother, which was why he kept asking for them when he saw her in these moods.
"There once was a man named Sisyphus, who was wise and cunning beyond any other. He accomplished many miraculous deeds, though none as impressive as fooling the god Zeus and death itself."
It was a beautiful sight to see how she progressively relaxed as she told the story, going on about the myth of that man with a passion she rarely showcased.
"However, no matter how smart his ploys and how much he fought to avoid it, he was eventually caught and sent to Tartarus, where his punishment was decided."
As she talked, vividly depicting the events of the story, exhaustion was taking hold of her. Her eyes were half-lidded as she fought to cover the increasingly obvious yawns threatening to escape. It was so adorable that he had to look away lest his smile give it away.
"His sentence was to push a massive boulder to the top of a mountain, the moment upon which he would be free and absolved of his conviction. However, it wasn't that simple. The boulder was enchanted to always escape him and roll down to the bottom just as he was about to reach the peak. Such was the cruelty of the gods: every single day, he would rise and start pushing his boulder from the bottom to the top of the mountain, always hoping it would finally be the day he would succeed and be freed from his punishment. No matter how hard he tried and how much he wished to be free, he never managed to bring the boulder to the zenith..."
Sunny felt a weight settle on his shoulder, as well as a warm breath tickle the side of his neck. He turned to glance at the source, idly wondering if a nightmare creature had sneaked up on them. It was no nightmare creature. Instead, Nephis had fallen asleep, her head resting on his shoulder with a peaceful expression on her beautiful face for the first time in ages.
She must have been truly exhausted if she could lower her guard enough to fall asleep like that. A small smile came upon his face as he moved as softly as possible to grant her a more comfortable position.
How he wished this moment could last forever, that they could live more moments like these, to just spend time together without any distractions. He missed when it was just the three of them, when he didn't have to deal with all the jealousy, bitterness, and sense of inadequacy that was growing more prominent day by day.
Was he asking for that much? Was it so unreasonable to be granted such a small wish after enduring so much pain and suffering? Did the dead gods hate him so much that they would deny him even that?
Thankfully, he was saved from his increasingly depressive mood when he felt Nephis snuggling closer, probably seeking warmth in the chilly night.
Right, it wasn't the moment for those thoughts. Nor was it the moment to stay here—no matter how much he wished otherwise, he still had to take that watch.
With a titanic effort of will, Sunny got up, lifting Nephis as softly as possible so as not to interrupt her rest, and carried her to her room, where he tucked her into bed. It proved hard to get out, too; she was holding on to him with impressive strength despite being asleep, and he didn't want to wake her.
Minutes later, he had managed to escape her clutches and had already relieved the current guard of her watch. He ignored the stare the woman gave him upon seeing his snickering shadow and carried on with his task with stoicism, trying very hard to ignore his reddening cheeks as he remembered the warmth of her body pressed against his.
Maybe it wasn't all so bad. Maybe he should just tell them how he felt, and they could all laugh about it. They would reassure him that his insecurities were just that and prove there was nothing to worry about.
A few days later, a sleeper named Harper arrived at the lodge, and he never had the chance to.
-------------------------------------------
Present Day
The odachi fell on the Herald with unerring precision. The pink skin parted in the path of the blade as red blood started flowing from the wound. A second later, he felt a burst of essence enter him, and the voice of the Spell announced the kill. He did not have time to feel satisfaction at his victory; there were more on the way, and it was becoming harder and harder to resist the unnatural wrath.
He ducked low, a hook tearing through the space where his eye had been just a fraction of a second ago. The offender did not have time to try again before the odachi struck once more, and its life was snuffed out as well.
They should have known better than to send awakened beasts after him already.
He immediately regretted the thought when a fallen beast came barreling at him, its hooks long and sharp enough to be mistaken for curved swords.
Sunny took hold of its string of life. The string fought him just as viciously as the beast itself would; it was far too healthy to bend easily to his will. He didn't need it to—he sent a portion of his shadow essence into it, the string growing longer and darker. He could have spent all of his essence, and the beast wouldn't even have been halfway dead, which was why he didn't try.
A portion of his essence was enough to make the beast stumble, the sudden loss of strength disorienting it just enough to allow him to evade the charge and leave a nasty cut across its eyes that blinded it.
The beast went mad, attacking everything in its vicinity with reckless abandon, doing more harm to its brethren than to him, since he had already retreated to a safer distance. Judging it not to be an immediate problem, he moved on to deal with the other Heralds while it thrashed madly.
A slash sent the arm of one of the Heralds flying, and just as he moved to capitalize on it, the headache spiked—and his rage along with it.
He delivered a slash that left it blind as well. The eyes were just the beginning; the other arm would follow, and then the legs. Let the thing crawl like a worm so it could know the consequences of wronging him. Maybe he should do that to all of his enemies, to everyone who had wronged hi—
Mom reading a book to Rain and me, Mom's death, playing silly games with Rain, being separated from Rain...
He came back to his senses with great effort, the wrath clinging to him like tar. It had lasted only a few seconds, and yet he was already in a bad position: the odachi was stuck deep inside a Herald while its fangs were buried in his shoulder, viciously threatening to rip it from its socket if he didn't act immediately. He ordered Serpent to crawl back into tattoo form as he summoned the [Moonlight Shard], the swift stiletto penetrating through the eye of the creature and into its brain.
[You have slain an Awakened Demon, Herald of Wrath]
[Your shadow grows stronger]
[You have received a memory: Lovers' Noose]
He kicked the creature off him, the fangs tearing through his shoulder as they were dragged out. The wrath increased once more, but he managed to fight it off through a combination of pain and his new technique.
The remembrance chain was working, but it wasn't as effective as the method he had used the first time. It also wasn't as destructive to his psyche, so he considered it a worthy sacrifice. He had come up with it while recovering from his wounds; the mind hex was too insidious to fight reliably without external help, so he needed a form of defense he could use at all times. He refused to spend all day thinking of Her, so he came up with an alternative.
The rapid contrast of emotions was the key, so he created an imaginary chain inside his mind, composed of sets of happy and sad memories that he would cycle through quickly at all times. As mentioned before, it wasn't as effective at breaking him out of the hex, but at least he could keep it up without straining what little remained of his sanity.
It was the reason he was reminiscing about old times during a fight, though that one particular memory was one he would have rather avoided. At least the Heralds were kind enough to distract him from the lingering bitterness as they attacked him with savagery.
He summoned Serpent in odachi form once more and rejoined the fight. He could use essence far more freely now that he could use Serpent's weapon form to recover it. Last week, he had finally achieved good enough control of his essence to fight without Serpent in tattoo form, and he was already seeing the benefits.
He even preferred the odachi to his usual tachi, which sadly had fallen behind in comparison to the foes he faced nowadays. It didn't help that, besides its durability, he couldn't make use of its enchantment without being at death's door.
His internal musings were interrupted when he felt the foreign wrath clouding his mind disappear, the relief so palpable that he almost stumbled.
[You have slain an Awakened Devil, Herald of Wrath]
[Your shadow grows stronger]
He finished the Herald that had tried to disembowel him in his moment of distraction and turned toward the awakened devil, only to see Saint's menacing form standing over it, her shield dripping with blood where she had used it to bash its head to a pulp.
The fight became a blur after that. Without the Devil to direct the Heralds, they had lost all cohesion, making them easy prey for Saint. The only fallen was the one he had blinded, so he even managed to finish it on his own while Saint dealt with the awakened Heralds. Before he even realized it, the fight was over, silence returning as he gazed upon the remains of his enemies.
He approached the corpse of the Devil slowly, feeling oddly disappointed with the result.
He had been building up the Devil as this ultimate enemy in his head. He had met it a few times over the last month since their first encounter, and the damn thing had always forced him to retreat in the end. At some point, he had started to consider it a supreme obstacle on which he could blame all his problems, whose demise would somehow spell a new phase in his life. One in which things would only improve, in which he would find the Gateway immediately after, in which he would return to the waking world and finally be happy.
And now? The Devil was dead. Saint had killed it as she could have killed any other enemy. No climactic battle was fought, no closure could be found, and all his problems were still there.
He hated the damn thing, and yet its death hurt him like that of a dear friend.
Sunny exhaled dejectedly, doing his best to ignore the hollow feeling that had been growing for months.
Not wanting to dwell on that, he gave Saint a thankful nod for her help and petted Serpent's head, who had returned to its animal form. He summoned his runes to check the new memory while scavenging whatever he could from the fallen foes.
[Memory name: Lovers' Noose]
[Memory description: The followers of the Twin Gods believed that from the day of birth to the day of death, one should always be accompanied in everything they do, for to be alone was akin to blasphemy against their gods. It is for this reason that, when one approached death, their companion would put a noose around their neck and end their lives so that even in death they could be together.]
Well, that was disturbing. He was already reconsidering visiting that temple if this was the kind of thing their followers believed in. For a second, he even felt hope rise at the mention of the Twin Gods, but then he dismissed it. He had killed Arden in the Forgotten Shores, and Aleras was nowhere in sight. For all he knew, he was nowhere close to it.
He also checked the enchantment, but it was useless. When held by two people at the same time, the noose would extend as much as the user wanted. It did not work when he held it along with Saint, so there was no use to the damn thing. At least she got a meal out of it.
With that done, and having retrieved the spoils of the battle, he drank from the rain to quench his thirst and began climbing the hill in front of him.
-------------------------------------------
A month had gone by since he found the graveyard, and he was yet to find any clue about where Aleras or the Temple of the Twin Gods could be, which was why he kept climbing hills and mountains, hoping to eventually see them in the distance. Who knows? Maybe this time it would be the one.
One thing was certain: if he ever managed to go back to the Waking World, he was going to secure a memory that allowed flight no matter the cost. He was sick and tired of so much climbing.
An hour later, he finally crested the hill, hoping to see a tower or temple on the horizon. Instead, he saw what he expected but not what he hoped.
He would have done anything for a different sight—maybe some ruins, a castle, a city, a lake, or a forest perhaps. He could handle anything, anything but more of the endless, FUCKING RIVERS AND VALLEYS.
At the moment, he hadn't paid much attention to the story, far too enamored with her to care about the myth. And now? It was almost poetic how similar he was to that man.
Was this how Sisyphus felt? He would wake at dawn and start rolling that damn boulder across the mountain, somehow convincing himself that, unlike all other times, today was going to be the day.
His mood would lift as he approached the peak, his heart swelling, his aches lessening as he felt how close he was to the end of his penitence, hope stubbornly taking root despite knowing better.
And then, just as he was about to do it, millimeters away from freedom, the boulder would roll away—back to the foot of the mountain, where he would have to start again the next day, and the next, and the next. Over and over until reality itself turned to dust, and sweet oblivion finally claimed him—the only reprieve he would ever get.
Sunny exhaled dejectedly once more, a hand running through his hair to rid it of the irritating dampness in a futile attempt to distract himself. Less than a second later, it was just as drenched, if not more.
He considered making some joke, starting to ramble about what he would do if he escaped, talking to his shadows and pretending to understand what they were saying. He had done it time and time again in the last months, but at some point he had started doing it less and less until he finally stopped completely.
The only answer he got was silence—a silence that made him feel even more alone than he already was. So what was the point?
He shook his head and drank once more from the rain, the cool water lessening the pain of his wounds as he began the arduous descent. A sardonic smile appeared on his face during the descent, caused by a massive boulder he had seen along the way.
He truly was just like Sisyphus.