The darkness hadn't left Sunny's mind.
Even though he had awoken, sweat-soaked and breathless, the images clung to his thoughts like leeches—refusing to die.
Children.
Screaming, begging, choking under pressure no child should endure. Tiny hands gripping pencils like weapons. Eyes void of wonder. Brains rewired to obey.
And that teacher's voice…
"We are your parents now. Your family is your weakness."
He stared at the object Kael had given him, still resting on the old stone table, catching the dim candlelight. It was beautiful in design—like a broken mirror carved into the shape of a human eye. Reality twisted slightly when you looked into it… but only slightly. Enough to make you question.
"What is this?" Sunny whispered to himself.
Kael stood behind him, silent. The fire in the hearth flickered. Shadows danced across the cave's cracked walls.
"It's called Darshana," Kael finally said. "In the old tongue, it means: 'that which reveals the truth, but only when the world wants to see it.'"
Sunny turned to face him. "Why didn't you use it? You could've changed everything. You saw what they did to those children. You saw it—worse than I ever could. Why not change it?"
Kael didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward, his eyes heavy with the weight of memories too deep to name. "I once believed in changing the world too quickly. But I learned that if you force the truth upon people… they crucify you for it."
He knelt beside Sunny, eyes tracing the object's lines.
"My brother," Kael began, voice like old paper, "was a believer. Not in gods. Not in laws. But in love. He fell for someone who didn't share his faith, yet loved deeper than any priest could preach. He began asking questions."
Sunny listened.
"And one day, his lover—frightened by the fire his words sparked—betrayed him. The people dragged him to the altar. Said he was blasphemous. Said love outside faith was heresy."
Kael looked into the flames.
"They would've killed him. But Amon came. Not to save him out of mercy, but because he saw… potential. Amon gave him this object, this Darshana, and told him: 'Hold it, protect it, but never use it unless the world screams for change.'"
Sunny lowered his head.
"They don't scream," he whispered. "They smile while dying."
Kael placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's why you must endure. Until they can't look away."
Sunny's thoughts returned to the nightmare. He remembered the boy who took his life because no one heard his silence. He remembered the chalkboard with blood stains. The chants in the temple, the priest's forked tongue.
A quote echoed in his mind, though he wasn't sure where he had read it:
"If you want to see what a society truly values, look at what it teaches its children."
Sunny clenched his fists. "Then maybe… maybe it's time we teach them something new."
Kael nodded, eyes full of a pain that mirrored his own.
"Not all truths must be told with words. Some… must be lived."
And the object shimmered again—alive, waiting.