The both of them got down, searching the bodies of the dead Sleepers, hoping to find some soul shards.
"Damn, these guys were dirt poor. Not a single shard on them," Sunny exclaimed.
Reaching into the pockets of the leader, Solaire pulled out a piece of fabric. He unfolded it to reveal crude shapes drawn in faded ink. The patterns looked oddly familiar. He called Sunny over and showed him the map.
"This… is this a treasure map?"
Sunny's eyes lit up. In his mind, riches and artifacts were already waiting beneath layers of dirt and stone. But his daydream was abruptly shattered by the sudden collapse of a nearby building. A massive figure flew through the air and smashed into one of the crumbling walls.
Without hesitation, Sunny dashed toward the sound. Solaire, however, held back. While he was now far more proficient at hunting in the dark, he still couldn't see in it—and chasing unknown monsters blind was not in his plans. He turned back toward his base.
His shelter wasn't far, just a few blocks from the ruined church where Sunny stayed. Weaving through the narrow gaps between broken buildings, he eventually stepped into a clearing. The space wasn't elaborate—just a simple wooden frame with a pile of fur stashed atop it.
He approached a makeshift wooden box, opening it carefully before dropping in his share of the soul shards.
"So beautiful… my collection is finally starting to grow again." he thought
Satisfied, he closed the box and slumped onto the bed, slowly drifting into sleep.
The world was quiet.
Too quiet.
Solaire stood alone on a shattered stone path, surrounded by a vast, colorless plain. Grey grass swayed despite the absence of wind. Above him stretched no sky—only a dull haze, thick like the breath of a forgotten god.
Then he heard it.
A voice. Mellow, measured, utterly neutral. It spoke without sound, and yet he heard it clearly—in the marrow of his bones.
"Come."
He turned sharply, but there was no one there.
"Come closer."
It wasn't kind. It wasn't cruel either. Just... certain. Like a whisper of inevitability wrapped in stillness.
The voice didn't echo, didn't fade. It repeated, soft and unhurried, coiling around his thoughts.
"You're almost there. Just a little more."
The sound stirred something ancient within him—a pain buried deep, long unspoken. His feet moved before his mind did, drawn by the quiet pull of that call. The world around him darkened at the edges. The ground cracked, crumbling beneath his feet, but he walked on.
"Closer, Chosen One. You're almost—"
He woke up with a start.
Chest heaving. Shirt soaked in sweat. Breath ragged and sharp in the dim light of dawn.
The voice was gone.
But the sensation remained—warm, distant, like the last note of a forgotten melody fading into silence.
Solaire sat up, heart pounding. For a long time, he said nothing.
Then slowly, he glanced toward the far corner of the room… where nothing waited.
And yet, something had called.
The sun shone brightly through the cracks in the roof. Sunny was probably still asleep in his own place.
Getting up, Solaire headed toward the church.
He approached silently. The knight statue inside still looked as ominous as the first day he had seen it.
Climbing up onto the roof, he lowered himself through the balcony and entered the lightless room. Ruby eyes greeted him—those of a stone knight—and next to it, a broken chair.
Startled, Solaire summoned his sword, ready for combat.
"Wait! That's not a monster—it's my echo," Sunny groaned.
Still alert, Solaire asked:
[Where are you, Sunny? And why are you hurt?]
A hand tapped his shoulder from behind.
"I'm here. I asked it to hit me," Sunny mumbled.
Solaire paused, blinking slowly before patting Sunny's back.
"Sunny... it's okay, man. I—no matter your tastes, I'll still be your friend."
Yawning, Sunny flopped back onto the floor. "Whatever. Come back in the evening. I'm sleeping now."
After leaving the church, Solaire headed back toward his base. But his mind wandered—haunted by the voice from his dream. It felt eerily familiar. He still couldn't tell if it had been male or female, but it had left behind a strange tugging sensation—like something pulling gently at his soul.
"I'm not going there. It could be a nightmare creature," Shuddering at the thought
Some nightmare creatures, according to what he had read, could use powerful mind attacks. And he had no resistance to those.
Solaire shook his head, trying to clear it. He had no plans to follow the whisper of a dream.
And yet…
He realized, only belatedly, that he had taken several unfamiliar turns. Past a twisted alley. Around a collapsed dome. Down a narrow path flanked by hollowed-out husks of buildings.
Ahead, an old structure emerged—its stone walls half-sunken into the earth, wrapped in tangled ivy. A broken sign lay shattered on the ground, its lettering long erased by time. One of the windows was caved in. The building looked no different than the other ruins scattered through the Dark City.
And still, the moment he crossed the threshold, he felt it—something had changed.
Inside, silence greeted him like a fog. Fallen beams, broken crates, and overturned shelves lay scattered in the dust. His boot nudged a discarded chain, which gave a soft clink before silence swallowed it again.
Then, behind a fractured wall, he found a stairwell.
It was partially hidden—crumbling, steep, and leading downward into a deeper darkness. The old gate that had once sealed it lay torn open.
Standing at the top of the stairs, he frowned.
"I didn't mean to come here," he mused.
A chill passed down his back.
He could turn around. Leave.
But the pull was stronger now—subtle, gentle, but unmistakable.
He began the descent.
The stone steps were slick with moisture and worn smooth by time. The railing had long since broken apart. His footsteps echoed faintly, then vanished into the deeper dark.
At the bottom, the hallway opened into a round chamber.
The walls were etched with faint carvings, nearly erased by time. A few rusted sconces clung stubbornly to the stone. The air smelled of damp stone and untouched memory.
At the chamber's center stood a stele.
Tall, black, smooth. Not a speck of dust marred its surface. It looked untouched by the years.
Intricate symbols spiraled across its face—neither in any known language, nor purely ornamental. They pulsed faintly, dimly reacting to Solaire's presence.
He stepped closer, breath held.
Though he could not read them, he understood. Not with words—but with something older. An idea, lingering just outside comprehension.
He reached out.
Just before his fingers brushed the stone, the voice returned.
Calm. Distant. Impossible to place.
"Kindling was never meant for one soul alone.
Come… flame-bearer.
We remember you."
Solaire pulled his hand back.
His heart thundered in his chest.
He didn't know what this place was. Or why he had found it.
But some part of him… some buried part… had been here before.
The runes pulsed once more—then faded.
The voice vanished.
Without another word, Solaire turned and made his way back up the stairs.
But with every step, he understood one thing clearly:
He hadn't come here by chance.