As the pain finally receded, Dawn lay on the dark sand, gazing at the starless void above. His breathing slowed, each inhale drawing in the scent of dampened minerals—the black sand cold beneath his recently repaired body, fine grains embedding themselves in torn cloth and closed wounds. The endless sky loomed overhead, an abyss without stars, without moonlight—without a single comfort to break the suffocating emptiness.
His eyes winced as the familiar whispers of his flaw echoed through his mind, shattering the brief harmony of solitude he had moments prior.
Pushing himself into a sitting position, he felt something was wrong. He sensed an emotion nearby—no, right here, within the mound of dark sand where he sat.
What? But there is no one here but me.
The Black Sea stretched endlessly in all directions, its waters unnaturally still, reflecting the void above like liquid obsidian. A faint ripple, distant and fleeting, disturbed its unnatural calm.
Standing, he summoned the Small Flame, its golden glow cutting through the oppressive darkness. A faint halo of warmth spread through the thick air, illuminating his surroundings. Yet, Dawn saw nothing.
I'm alone, so why are my empathic senses reacting so strongly?
The air was thick with an eerie silence, void of the usual hum of distant life. No wind carried across the desolate landscape, no rustling of unseen creatures disturbed the oppressive calm. The world felt hollow—a place removed from time, swallowed by something deeper than night.
Summoning the Dawnbreaker, his gaze met a broken blade and a ruined hilt. His impartial expression did not change, but when he flicked the blade with his finger, it exploded into thousands of red sparks, casting brief embers into the darkness before vanishing entirely.
His cold gaze remained unchanged, yet deep within his mostly empty heart, something stirred—something he thought he had lost.
Sadness.
How is this possible? I sacrificed my sadness months ago. It should not be possible for me to regain it.
I even tried with the help of other enchantments, but the effect was always the same—diluted and artificial.
Wait... I'm not feeling the emotions of another around me. These are my own emotions. But if I'm feeling my emotions, then that would mean that, in some way, I have regained them.
Theoretically, that should be impossible. But something felt off. He could still sense the emotions of others as clearly as day. What he felt was mostly sorrow—barely any relaxation or joy.
And the strange thing was... those were all emotions he had lost long ago.
If that's the case, then that would mean—
His mind reached a sudden realization. His eyes widened as a glimmer of hope shone within them, reflecting the light of the Small Flame.
"I have a theory."
As these words left his lips, a genuine smile crossed Dawn's face. His battle-hardened features softened.
But then, a new emotion crept into his soul—shock.
It was not his own. It belonged to someone else.
Suddenly, he felt the gaze of a being upon him. Turning toward the towering city walls far above, he vaguely saw the figure of a person.
That person radiated a strange mixture of shock and hope.
Without hesitation, the figure dove into the Black Sea.
Yet, Dawn remained calm. He could feel that whatever this person wanted, it was not of bad intent.
Nonetheless, he prepared himself, standing ready for anything. He had no way of knowing what would happen next.
The person swam at astonishing speeds. Whoever they were, they were strong.
Probably an Awakened, he thought.
The Small Flame on his shoulder coated his arms in luminescent orange fire, as if preparing for battle. Yet, its gentle voice resonated through his mind.
Agree with Master.
A pale hand shot from the waters, reaching the black sand of the small mound where Dawn stood.
The moonless, artificial darkness barely allowed details to emerge, but the figure's silhouette was stark against the endless horizon of shifting, silent waters. The glow of the flame flickered over dampened flesh, casting moving shadows onto the sand.
A figure—reminiscent yet different—appeared before him.
Lowering his guard completely, his voice trembled with newfound emotion.
"S-Sunny?"
As their gazes met, one shone with watering eyes filled with hope, while the other held a cold stare—one that concealed countless emotions beneath its surface.
Rushing forward, Sunny wrapped his arms around Dawn in a tight embrace, holding him as if he might disappear at any moment.
As the rush of Sunny's emotions hit him like a ton of bricks, Dawn's once-empty soul—lacking joy, if any at all—began to be refilled.
The best way Dawn could describe it was like a container of water that had been emptied—now slowly being replenished.
In a sense, Dawn was utilizing his flaw to restore the emotions he had sacrificed. The more he felt, the more emotion he regained.
His flaw, though disruptive to his abilities, was also the one thing keeping him from becoming a true monster—an emotionless husk.
His cold face softened slightly, illuminated by a genuine smile of joy at seeing his brother once more.
What stood before Dawn was not the Sunless who had survived the Forgotten Shore.
What stood before him was his little brother, Sunless.
The Black Sea remained silent, as if holding its breath. The small mound beneath their feet felt like the only solid ground in an abyss of ink, a fleeting moment of stability in a world on the brink of oblivion.
"Where were you all this time? And what happened to your hair? It's so long. And what's wrong with you? You look so... tired? No, you just look cold for some reason."
"Don't worry, I'll explain in due time. But for now, this older brother needs to rest, okay? I've just been give a lot to think about, so I need a moment to take it in."
Sunny's face turned serious.
Forcing Dawn to lie down on the small mound of sand, he made him gaze up at the starless sky—just like they used to when they were kids.
Neither of them realized that, for the first time in a long time, they had both relaxed in each other's company.