Shadow Re: Slave

The door to Nephis's chamber burst open with a sharp clatter.

Cassie stumbled inside, breath ragged, barefoot, still wrapped in the fading shimmer of essence—the residual sparks of a freshly summoned Memory.

Her face was pale. Her body trembled.

"Nephis—" she choked out, voice raw, "—I had a vision. Of Sunny. He was here… in the outer settlement. But…"

Her voice faltered, splintered, and disappeared.

Nephis was already on her feet.

She crossed the room in two steps, placed a firm hand on Cassie's shoulder, and anchored her with quiet strength.

"Breathe," she said calmly. " Collect yourself first and then tell me what you saw. All of it."

Cassie nodded, trying to collect herself. After a moment, the words came—halting, but clear.

⸻

"I saw Sunny. He was in a hut near the gate… drinking. With a man named Harper. He looked… off from the start. Not angry, not sad. Just… strange. Like something was wrong and he didn't want to say it."

She paused, swallowing hard.

"Harper gave him alcohol. Tried to be friendly. Asked a few questions. Sunny got sloppy fast. I think it was his first time drinking."

Another breath. Slower.

"And then… Harper asked him something. Jokingly. About his True Name. He didn't mean it. He just wanted to play along. Because Sunny said he had one two after Harper mentioned you."

Cassie's hands were clenched at her sides now, her voice quiet.

"But the moment he said it… the entire mood in the room changed. Like the air turned solid. And Sunny…"

She looked at Nephis, eyes wide.

"He picked up a knife. Calmly. And stabbed Harper through the heart."

Silence.

Cassie's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Then he leaned close and said it in his ear. Lost from Light."

⸻

Cassie's body trembled again. She didn't understand it completely. But she knew what it meant—even if she couldn't explain why.

Sunny had killed for that name. Not in rage. Not in fear.

But with purpose.

She knew she was betraying his trust by telling Nephis. But she also knew the vision had come to her for a reason.

Because somewhere deep down… she had chosen the angel over the shadow.

Nephis over Sunny.

And that choice still ached.

He had always been kind to her. Protective in a way no one else had ever been.

But sometimes, when she was near him… she felt it.

That low hum of danger.

Like something ancient slept beneath his skin, waiting.

⸻

Nephis listened in silence.

Each word chipped at something she'd been trying not to feel.

Sunny. A True Name. The act of murder. The way it was done.

Cold. Clean. Intentional.

It wasn't the name itself that unsettled her—Lost from Light was beautiful, even fitting for someone like him. No, what made her breath catch was how it connected everything. Why he had always been so careful. Why he asked her to only pose questions he could refuse to answer.

It all made sense now.

And it terrified her.

Because he had never told her. Even after everything they'd endured. After the Labyrinth. After the fire. After the fall.

Still, he kept her in the dark.

And yet… even now, all she felt was the quiet ache of missing him.

Not just the fighter. Not the monster.

Him.

The mysterious boy from the outskirtswho had once stood beside her, broken and brilliant and stubborn enough to face hell with a blade made of shadows.

⸻

She closed her eyes for a moment.

When they opened again, there was resolve in them.

"I'll talk to him," she said.

Cassie looked up, surprised.

Nephis nodded slowly. "When I see him next—I'll tell him the truth. That I know. That you told me. That we didn't mean to betray him. And that…"

She hesitated.

"…I still want him to trust us. He even sacrificed himselfe for us."

Because the truth was, she did.

Maybe more than she should.

He had changed her.

Not with words. Not with promises.

But just by being there—when no one else was.

When he was there, that emptiness she had carried for so long… the hollow ache left behind when her father died… it didn't disappear.

But it quieted.

He filled it—almost completely.

And that was terrifying in its own way.

Because Nephis had never allowed herself to need anyone.

Not since the Sovereigns took everything from her.

But Sunny hadn't asked to be needed.

He had just been there—without expectation, without judgment.

And somehow, that had been enough.

⸻

She was almost certain now. The man behind Seishan. The one who gave away thousands of soul shards without flinching. The one who could bend a Song princess to his will without lifting a sword.

There was only one person she could imagine being capable of something like that.

Sunny.

⸻

In the upper chamber of the ruined cathedral, Effie stirred beneath a heavy blanket.

The bed was warm.

Ridiculously warm.

She blinked groggily, then sat up, her wild hair tousled and eyes squinting against the faint morning light filtering through the cracks in the broken wall.

She glanced around, still half expecting a rat to crawl out of the stone—or worse, a specter of some forgotten horror. But no. Just silence.

And softness.

Effie sank back into the mattress and let out a low groan.

"…Alright. I get it now."

She smirked.

"I'd protect this bed too."

It was nothing special—at least not in the waking world. But for the Forgotten Shore?

It was a throne.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, she understood now why he had cared about it. Why it mattered. Even if he'd never said it aloud.

⸻

Far from the warmth of the cathedral, deep in the ruins of the Dark City—

Sunny was bleeding.

The fight against the Lord of the Dead had begun without fanfare.

He hadn't waited for Nephis's decision. He didn't need to. She would either accept his offer or not. But in the meantime, the abomination still lived. And it needed to die.

He moved like a blade—silent, deliberate, and without hesitation.

But this time, there were no Nephis, no Cassie, no Effie not even Caster at his side.

Just shadows.

And the new blood.

His new clan.

They weren't as seasoned as the old cohort—but they were powerful in their own right.

Niraye, petals of ruin blooming around her in clouds of corrosive mist.

Evara, radiant waves searing through the darkness like divine flames from nephis, just more solid.

Others too—each handpicked, each marked by his shadow.

The battle was not chaos.

There was smoke. Screams. The cold shriek of steel biting through bone.

But every motion was precise.

They moved like a machine—one mind, many blades. Wide-area Aspects carving through waves of undead with brutal efficiency, shadows weaving between bursts of radiant fire and corrosive mist.

It was deadly.

Efficient.

And perfectly coordinated.

Because Sunny was at the center of it all—guiding them without words, leading through instinct, presence, and the unshakable gravity of his will. Even though the amount of his will was still negligible.

And despite all their strength, despite the flawless coordination, one of Seishan's former handmaidens nearly died.

A swing from one of the Lord of Death's massive arms came crashing toward her—too fast, too close.

She wasn't fast enough.

But Sunny was.

He moved without hesitation, stepping between them and absorbing the brunt of the impact. The blow struck like a falling mountain—ripping through, armor, and even essence enhanced flesh.

The handmaiden was thrown aside, unconscious and bleeding.

But alive.

And that was enough.

⸻

By the time the Lord of the Dead fell—its core consumed, its twisted armor shattered—Sunny was standing still only by force of will.

Blood soaked his side. His vision blurred.

But he had aquired the Starlight Shard.

Another gift.

Another proof.

Another step in the shadow's plan.