The scene on the small ketch would have been funny if someone had seen it from afar. Two young people, apparently resting in the calm of the eternal sea, as if nothing in the world troubled them. But, as always, reality was much more absurd.
Sunny was sitting on Nephis's lap, his head resting on her thigh as if he were asleep... though he wasn't. He was pretending. Very deliberately pretending.
After all, something had happened—something so unexpected, so surreal—that his brain still didn't know how to process it.
The proof was on his neck.
More specifically, in the faintly glowing mark on his collarbone: a bite. Another one.
Third? Fourth? He'd lost count.
For some unknown—and dangerous to analyze—reason, Nephis had developed the strange habit of biting him. Sunny suspected Effie was to blame. No one else could have given Nephis those horrible romance novels where biting was a sign of affection. That, or the books were cursed. There was no other logical explanation.
The problem this time wasn't the bite itself... but the lack of a clear motive. They weren't fighting. There was no tension. It wasn't an extreme situation.
The last time Nephis had cried after a nightmare, he understood her reaction.
But this time...
They had simply fallen asleep, side by side. The boat continued its silent, aimless journey, and to conserve warmth, they'd just slept close together. Nothing unusual for two people who had walked through hell together.
Then Sunny woke abruptly to the sharp sting on his neck. His instincts screamed "danger!" For a split second, he thought a nightmare creature was devouring him. He imagined a nightmare shark leaping out of the sea and chewing through the entire boat.
Until he opened his eyes... and saw Nephis.
Pressed up against him. Literally.
Her lips still too close to his neck, her silver eyes shining with a confusing intensity. There was something in her gaze he couldn't decipher: embarrassment, anger, surprise... and maybe, a bit of panic.
He was about to shout, to protest with all the righteous indignation he could muster, but he stopped when Nephis lowered her gaze. Her expression had shifted from defiant to mortified in seconds. Her ears were completely red. She avoided his eyes.
In a last desperate attempt to pretend nothing had happened—and possibly to keep Sunny from burning the boat down with outrage—she sat him on her lap like nothing was out of place.
And so, here they were.
⸻
Nephis gently stroked Sunny's black hair in silence, pretending to be focused, hoping the head massage would work as a sort of emotional bribe to prevent questions.
And it seemed to be working.
Sunny not only didn't complain, he actually seemed to be enjoying the attention. Maybe a little too much.
Nephis, for her part, enjoyed it too. Sunny's hair was long, soft, and fell down his back like a dark curtain. Running her fingers through it was more relaxing than she'd ever admit.
But that didn't solve the real problem.
Because Nephis knew exactly why she had bitten him.
And that reason was eating her alive.
Jealousy.
She had bitten Sunny out of jealousy. Not during a fight. Not out of reflex.
Out. Of. Jealousy.
Over a dream, no less.
She tried to justify herself. It had all started with a perfectly ordinary scene inside her mind: a wooden cabin beside a peaceful lake. A dreamlike place. Inside, Sunny—somehow more handsome than usual, with that idealized glow the men in books always had—was cooking something.
Next to him, a girl around twelve or fourteen years old.
Long black hair. Angelic face. A charming air. She looked like the innocent heroine of a young adult novel.
Nephis didn't remember who she was, or what she was doing there... but she remembered all too clearly the exact moment that girl threw herself into Sunny's arms and hugged him tightly.
And he... returned the gesture with a smile.
Nephis had woken up with her heart pounding, consumed by confusion, anger, and... pain?
Her first reaction was irrational: "Bite the real Sunny!"
And so she did.
Since then, she hadn't said a single word, hoping the massage would erase the incident from his memory. But throughout that time, her mind kept circling back to that girl with the big eyes and luminous expression.
Until she finally understood.
The black hair... the height... the silver streak... the eyes.
The eyes!
Nephis's own eyes widened as she covered her face with both hands, horrified.
She had gotten jealous of her own fictional daughter.
In a dream.
A sepulchral silence fell over the boat. Only the soft whisper of the sea of time could be heard.
Nephis, sitting with Sunny in her lap, wished with all her heart that no one—no demon, no Effie, not even the story itself—would ever discover what had just gone through her head.
The wind had turned cold. Not just chilly, but like air that had passed through the bones of something long dead. A subtle shift, but unmistakable. Nephis, standing beside Sunny on the ketch's deck, lifted her face slightly, letting the breeze touch her skin. It was sharp. Like a warning.
Beside her, Sunny seemed completely unaware of the change in temperature. He was focused, eyes fixed on one hand, where small wisps of shadow danced like living smoke. He was working on a new [Memory], trying to refine it, bend it to his will with that strange sorcery of his that no longer seemed to obey the laws of the world. He had told her he'd understood something new. An important step.
So Nephis said nothing.
She gave him space. She knew him well enough to understand that interrupting him at times like this wasn't just pointless—it was unfair. He didn't say it, but those moments were intense for him. Like unraveling the secrets of the spell cost him pieces of himself.
Meanwhile, the water that had remained still for days, like an emotionless mirror, began to stir. First, small ripples. Then a gentle sway... barely noticeable. But it was enough for Nephis to feel it. The sea was waking.
And not just the sea.
In the sky, the seven suns that had once burned with monstrous light had gone out hours ago. Now, only seven dark, silent masses floated where they used to be, like the corpses of stars. Their extinguished presence weighed on the world like a verdict. It was as if time itself had stopped.
Then, she felt it.
A pressure coiled in her chest. Oppressive. As if something invisible were squeezing her from the inside. She glanced at Sunny from the corner of her eye. He said nothing, but she knew: he felt it too. His tense shoulders, the slight furrow in his brow, the way his shadows stirred like they sensed danger before he did—all of it confirmed her suspicion.
Her instincts were right.
Because at that moment, when she looked up toward the horizon, Nephis saw it.
There, in the distance, where there should have been only water... a dark mass rose. Enormous. Silent. An island. But not like any she remembered from her world. This one looked like it had been swallowed by the night. It didn't shine. It didn't reflect. It offered no sign of life. Just a silhouette against the void.
And yet, seeing it was enough to make Nephis's blood run cold.
That island... felt familiar.
Though she didn't know when, or why.
She didn't have time to think further. Sunny had seen the island too. She could tell by the way his gaze hardened and how one of his shadows—perhaps Happy—rose like an antenna, then returned to him. And in that exact moment, the ketch reacted.
Without warning, the vessel began to move. Not drifting. Not slowly. It surged forward, as if dragged by an invisible force, with a determination it hadn't shown in days. It wasn't fast... but it was purposeful. A stark contrast to its previous stillness.
Nephis understood at once: their second vacation had ended.
The ketch now had a destination.
The dark island was waiting.
She bit her lower lip again, as she often did when thinking. Trying to remember. What was that island? Why did she feel like she knew it, but couldn't recall? And the most disturbing thought: if the ones behind this "invitation" were the sword specters...
Nothing good awaited them.
Barely two minutes passed.
The boat slowed.
There was no sound, only the soft scrape of the hull against a solid surface. The ketch came to a gentle stop. When they leaned over the edge, they saw the unthinkable.
Sand.
Black sand.
When they disembarked, their feet touched the shore. But it wasn't a normal beach. The sand had the right texture, but its color was that of ash. Old, dead ash, like the remains of a forest reduced to dust by some ancient fire. Each grain seemed to absorb the light.
Nephis crouched and let some of the sand trickle through her fingers. But as it touched her skin, it vanished. It didn't stay in her palm—it dissolved, carried away by the wind like smoke.
She looked at Sunny. He was watching too.
—There's nothing for at least a kilometer around —he said calmly, though his voice was tight.
A shadow, nearly identical to him, emerged from behind a low dune and slid into his body. A scout, perhaps. One that had gone ahead to confirm what his words now revealed: the island was empty. For now.
They both crouched again, touching the sand together.
It vanished once more.
Ash.
This entire place was made of ash.
There was nothing else. No vegetation. No sound. The silence was so absolute Nephis could hear her own heartbeat. There was only one choice: move forward, or wait here to starve.
There was no real decision to be made.
Without another word, they began to walk inland. Their footprints disappeared behind them, as if the island itself refused to remember they had ever come.