Truly, for Sunny, it did not take him long to understand the principles of [Silver Weave], nor did it take him long to master it.
In practical application, [Silver Weave] granted the unadorned ability to utilize Soul Essence. This was an ability universally possessed by every Awakened being, yet, crucially, it was one Sunny had lacked — until now, at least.
But then, an inquisitive mind might pose the query:
Why did the Original Sunless create it within the boundless expanse of the Black Skies? The Black Skies, after all, served as the origin of [Silver Weave]. There had to be a compelling rationale, granted that the preceding Sunless seemed capable of virtually conjuring anything at his whim.
And so it was…
The Black Skies were an infinite darkness where boundless void reigned supreme, disturbed only by lethal emanations of cosmic radiation and subtle gravitational fields. The very material transmuted to weave [Silver Weave] was, in fact, the boundless void itself and the countless silver stars suspended within it.
This explained why, whenever Sunny used this ability against Entropy, the resultant manifestation was indeed Soul Essence, yet it carried an immense density and burned with the inner fire of Starlight. The inherent nature of the Weave was, in verity, Starlight. And thus, [Silver Weave] simultaneously endowed him with the capacity to wield 'Disaster.' Furthermore, this link explained the ponderous weight of his attacks, as the gravitational field blossoms inherent in the Weave contributed to their destructive mass.
To have conceived such a creation would without a doubt necessitate an infinite expanse for experimentation. For, in conferring Soul Essence upon a Shadow such as himself, that Sunless must have transgressed several laws.
With this knowledge now assimilated, Sunny found himself in complete agreement with his originating self. This ethereal realm was the quintessential proving ground, a veritable playground, for that Sunless to assay his myriad creations. Sunny even surmised that [Regressor] and [Echo of the Stars] had also undergone their initial trials here.
Within the boundless void, there existed no apprehension of unintended destruction, for his only potential targets were the stars themselves.
Raising a hand, Sunny regarded it intently. Earlier, he had attempted to scrutinize the Weave itself, only to realize the Storm God's previous assertion was precise. It was a Weave, yes, yet also an enshrined Miracle.
Except this Miracle resonated with a dual radiance, a commingling of black and white. If Sunny were to have a guess, it emanated Shadow and Starlight.
He remained entirely uncertain as to the specific significance of Starlight in this context, yet, he comprehended that he did not truly need to know.
Turning, he gazed towards the distant Sea, where the Storm God persisted in her silent vigil over the remote stars. His raison d'être for visiting this place was uncomplicated. He had merely sought to master his own Weave, and through it, to achieve complete command over Soul Essence. This objective had now been fulfilled.
And yet… a lingering dissatisfaction gnawed at him at the prospect of simply departing. Thus, Sunny shook his head decisively and began to walk towards Nokstella.
He would soon depart, but he could at least exchange a few final words with her. Besides, a solitary, persistent question relentlessly vexed his mind.
'What caused Nether and Nokstella to… break up?'
Sunny's expression betrayed a flicker of surprise. Perhaps 'break up' was not the entirely accurate. They were not, after all, a couple.
However, there was no doubt, having conversed with Nether, that a discernible bond, a semblance of affection, existed between them.
Yet Nether had vowed never again to gaze upon the Black Skies. Contradictorily, within that Inner-Dream, it had been abundantly clear to Sunny that Nether also harbored profound regret concerning this vow.
Sunny reached Nokstella with surprising alacrity. As he approached, Nokstella did not turn her head. Her exquisite face remained averted from his own.
And so, he settled gently beside her, plopping down onto the water, and also directed his gaze towards the celestial tableau above. It was, without question, a truly magnificent vista.
Even a pleasant, gentle wind accompanied the scene, brushing softly across both their faces. They seemed to simultaneously close their eyes as it passed.
For Nokstella, perhaps, this was an eternal recurrence. She was, after all, eternally ensnared within the Nightmare Spell until its eventual decline.
For Sunny, this ephemeral breeze evoked recollections of happier times. He found himself involuntarily relaxing under its gentle caress.
Then, he finally turned to Nokstella, his gaze settling upon her. It was then that a realization crystallized in Sunny's perception.
She was… subtly avoiding him. In a nuanced sense, she was deliberately choosing not to look at him.
Something, undoubtedly, troubled the Storm God. Whatever Sunny embodied, or whatever he was engaged in, evoked an unpleasant feeling for her. A profound unease.
And it was only upon realizing that it was related to his own question, that he guessed what it was.
Sunny's Mythril Shell was both created by Nether, and altered by him further. And so, it must've been the reason why Nokstella was acting such a way. She was seeing Nether's mark through him. The indelible signature.
So it was… personal to her.
Sunny frowned at the thought. A familiar weariness settled upon him. Finally, he spoke up and asked.
"Nokstella… what happened between you and Nether?"
Nokstella showed no visible reaction to the question. A statue could not have been more still. But then, she finally looked him in the eye.
It was barely there, hell, it could hardly be called an expression. But Sunny was too perceptive to miss it. Years of dodging blows and reading the shadowed intent of Nephis had honed his senses.
There was a hint of sorrow in those dark, raging eyes of hers. A profound, ancient regret.
["…"]
The next words that came out of her mouth held both a threat, as well as sorrow. The pressure that Sunny could feel in them could easily crush a Great Nightmare Creature, reducing it to dust and memory.
["That is not for you to know."]
Sunny simply nodded, a slow, deliberate movement. His earlier fluster had vanished. Then he spoke calmly.
"I see. That is fine. But, if you know this, then at least tell me…"
Nokstella turned her gaze and looked at him curiously. A sliver of genuine interest.
["Know what?"]
Sunny looked at her with intent in his eyes. A burning, desperate inquiry.
"Tell me. My predecessor came to you to master Soul Essence. You must have been with him for some time, yes?"
Nokstella nodded. The subtle gesture confirmed his assumption.
["If you wish to know how long me and that Daemon spent time together, I can not tell you. However, it was at least two thousand years."]
Sunny's gaze did not waver.
["What do you wish to know?"]
Sunny turned his gaze toward the countless Silver Stars, seemingly looking for something in them. Upon not finding what he wished, he turned his gaze to Nokstella and answered calmly.
But before he did. He truly had to think. The questions were manifold, tangled threads forming a knot within his mind.
What did he want to know?
Nokstella had been with the Original, face to face for a time. More than that, she had managed to be completely unaffected by the constraints of the Nightmare Spell.
For her, the Original must've been here like it was yesterday. All of it a simple, distant dream. A fleeting memory in an endless existence.
And so, perhaps aside from Weaver himself, she was the only one who he could ask…
Why did he not Regress himself? Out of all the possibilities he could have created, why did he never return as the God he was?
An Outer-God. An unknowable existence. An existence that cannot be understood, simply because they exist outside of the knowable.
'Why did that Daemon, that Outer-God create [Regressor] for me?'
Why did he not Regress, but instead Sunny did?
'Why did he—'
"Why did he choose this possibility? Why did he create… me?"
His voice was low, filled with a complex blend of awe and resentment. The implications were vast and terrifying.
"Why did he create an entirely new world, undo the damage the battle between him and the Forgotten God caused, and create me? Why did he leave everything to me? Onto himself, and yet not onto himself?"
Nokstella looked at him intently for a few moments. Her attention, usually distant, was now sharp and focused.
Finally, Sunny said. A final, piercing question, cutting to the core of his own existence.
"Why did the 'Daemon of Possibility' choose this possibility, and not any other?"
Nokstella answered in a subtle voice, a whisper across the boundless void, yet it resonated with immense clarity.
["…A king stands before an open gate. Beyond it lies freedom, yet the moment he steps through, the kingdom behind him vanishes. The throne, crown, and people who named him king… all of it erased. He remains where he is, hand hovering over the edge. That is choice."]
Her gaze did not leave him. It penetrated, unwavering.
["A seer looks upon a thousand futures. In one, he survives. In another, he triumphs. In a third, he becomes something vast enough to end all suffering. He reaches for that future… and in doing so, blinds himself to every path that led to it. That is consequence."]
The storm shifted faintly above, stars dimming, then burning anew. A silent, cosmic dance reflecting fate's intricate weave.
["A flame devours its final fuel to grow brighter. For a moment, it surpasses everything it once was. Yet in that same moment, it loses what allowed it to burn again. That is transcendence."]
Sunny processed her words, the analogies painting a stark, chilling picture. He spoke, the understanding dawning upon him.
"So… he lost the 'possibility' to return by becoming an Outer-God?"
Nokstella regarded him, something distant passing through her expression, something that carried neither approval nor rejection. A quality beyond human judgment.
She answered calmly. Unyielding in her truth.
["No."]
["He lost the conditions that allowed such a path of 'return' to exist at all."]
The stars above shifted again, their arrangement subtly unfamiliar now. A subtle, yet profound, realignment.
["'Possibility' requires a frame. A self. A sequence of 'chance' and 'probability' that can be revisited, altered, or chosen differently. In the act of becoming an Outer-God, he lost both the frame and self, and thus the 'chance' and 'probability.'"]
["What you call 'him' could no longer be placed within a path, because there was no 'frame' or 'self' at all. He could alter the probability of others. He could shape them. Yet he could not occupy them any longer."]
["To return, one must remain defined. And yet, in transcending the confines of our laws — that of reality, he could be defined no more."]
Sunny remained silent, understanding the truth of her words. It was a chilling revelation for him.
Nokstella continued. Her voice a low hum across the boundless darkness.
["A Demon casts off his shadow to walk where a shadow cannot dwell. He succeeds. Yet when he seeks to turn back, there is nothing left that binds him to where he began."]
Her gaze settled fully on him now. Piercing and knowing.
["He did not lose possibility. For still, he was capable of creating things deemed 'impossible.'"]
She let out a breath, softer this time. A fleeting, ethereal sigh.
["However… he did lose the 'probability' to ever enter another Worldline outside of his own."]
Her gaze seemed to pierce his very soul.
["And so… he created you."]
Her words carried no emphasis, yet they struck with certainty.
["A version that could remain within the' frame'. A 'self' that could walk a path. A being that could choose, fail, return, and choose again."]
Sunny's fingers curled slightly at his side. A primal, involuntary reaction to the weight of his inherited purpose.
Nokstella's voice softened, though its weight did not lessen. The profound truth remained.
["He did not abandon the outcome, Sunless."]
"He…"
["He relinquished the ability to ever reach it himself."]
Sunny's eyes narrowed, a profound understanding crystallizing within them. He stood there, the Storm God's words reverberating through the infinite void, speaking of ultimate sacrifice and inescapable consequence. He turned his gaze, directing it into the boundless expanse.
'Relinquished the ability to ever reach it himself…'
If Sunny could remember the origin of that stark realization, he would have been consumed by a searing indignation, directed at the very fabric of existence. The thought alone was enough to stir a simmering resentment within him.
'Just imagine it, becoming so powerful, just to realize you cannot use that power to undo everything and keep those you love safe?'
Perhaps, this was his own greed.
'After all, at some point, he was Divine. He chose to become an Outer-God, however he did it. He chased power, though not out of greed but instead simply to fell that damned God of Corruption.'
'And it meant nothing. In the end, he was not successful. He survived the battle, yes, but there was nothing to return to.'
The bitter irony of it all…
Sunny, for a moment, looked at Nokstella and smiled with a distinct inflection of melancholy. A subtle twist of his lips that spoke of knowing, of shared burdens. She must have perceived this, for her gaze, previously fixed upon the distant stars, shifted toward him with an unreadable intensity.
["Little shadow… you remind me of him. That smile of yours. It resembles him."]
A cold dread seized Sunny, freezing him in place. His cynical facade threatened to crack, just for an instant.
'Did that Sunless smile at Storm God the same way I am now?'
He found the thought unsettling. The notion of a connection, however ephemeral, to his predecessor always agitated him.
"Did he often smile?" His voice, usually laced with a certain mischievous lilt, was now subdued, almost an observation.
Nokstella barely shook her head, a minute tremor.
["He was a lonely existence, just as we Gods are. Though unlike us, he chose to walk the lonesome path of solitude. I am happy to see he succeeded in the end, having created you. But yet… what is this feeling?"]
Nokstella appeared genuinely perplexed for a fleeting instant, a crack in her eternal, impassive demeanor. Sunny, in turn, was surprised to witness any discernible emotion from her, a rare and unexpected deviation from her usual detachment.
Despite this momentary confusion, the [Blessing of Desire] allowed him to discern a faint undercurrent within her thoughts. A resonance, subtle yet pervasive, that spoke of two figures intertwined in her remembrance.
She was thinking of both Nether, the Demon of Destiny, and that Sunless, the Demon of Possibility. Their very essences seemed to swirl in the depths of her mind.
Then, from the depths of her enigmatic contemplation, a sound escaped her. A faint, bitter chuckle, devoid of mirth, echoing faintly across the void. It was an almost imperceptible tremor, but Sunny's enhanced senses caught it.
Though Sunny didn't dare comment on it, he heard her utter a barely audible whisper immediately after:
["Fools… each and every one of us, fools."]
The words hung in the vast emptiness, heavy with a profound, self-condemnatory truth.
In that singular moment, Sunny comprehended that Nokstella had recognized a misstep of her own. The specific nature of this error remained obscure, but its acknowledgment by beings of such high status was, in itself, a revelation.
With his burning question addressed, the driving force for his presence dissipated. The lingering desire for answers had been sated.
Slowly standing up, a deliberate uncoiling of his form, Sunny looked toward the boundless void, the multitudinous silver stars shining with an ethereal brilliance within that beautiful darkness. It was only now, his perception sharpened by the recently acquired knowledge, that Sunny could discern a nascent nebula blossoming in the celestial expanse. A new formation of cosmic dust and starlight.
He couldn't help but feel a reverence for this place, a primordial awe that stirred something deep within his soul. A sensation akin to standing at the threshold of creation itself.
This was the birthplace, or in some way, the crucible of experimentation for all three of his Attributes. Each and every one having been born from an Outer-God and his meddling upon the world.
Even if [Echo of the Stars] was Weaved by emulating a Weave of the Nightmare Spell, its true potency was unleashed within the Black Skies. [Silver Weave] was meticulously crafted alongside Nokstella. Thus, in this manner, he would forever carry a fragment of the Storm God's essence with him.
But most of all, [Regressor], and its truly unknowable Weave, was only conceived and rigorously tested within this space, precisely because it was a boundless, infinite void. It was the only canvas vast enough for such an audacious creation.
The Black Skies was the ultimate progenitor of the current Sunny's existence, one could even assert such a connection.
'The Storm Sea… huh? I wonder if he was a poetic soul, too.'
Sunny couldn't help but consider that, perhaps, that Sunless had harbored thoughts of Rain, his sister, during his arduous creation. This speculation, however tenuous, seemed to connect to his present locale, the Storm Sea.
And as if in response to his unspoken contemplation, at that precise moment, a gentle rain began to fall. Though no obscuring clouds marred the overhead expanse, the ethereal precipitation seemed to originate directly from the boundless void itself.
Sunny blinked, surprised for a fleeting moment by the unexpected phenomenon. It was only upon hearing an… odd, almost imperceptible sound that he turned to Nokstella.
She was standing now, a solitary figure amidst the cosmic expanse, looking at the Silver Stars. The falling rain gently caressed her face, gathering and then trailing off like shimmering tears. Her gaze, however…
Sunny's breath halted, caught in his throat for a heavy, elongated moment.
It was one of heavy sadness and an aching, inconsolable longing. A raw, exposed vulnerability.
And yet, at the sight of such unvarnished emotion on the face of an Outer God, Sunny couldn't help but offer a melancholic smile. It seemed the Storm God was finally revealing the depth of her regret, for whatever transpired between her and Nether.
It was a pity that, despite Sunny's power as a [Dreamwalker], he could not facilitate their reunion, not even for a fleeting instant. Even with [Echo of the Stars], such a feat would prove unattainable, solely due to the inherent distinctions between his interactions with Daemons compared to Gods, or any other entities within the Nightmare. The fundamental rules of their existence differed too greatly.
So, instead, he did the only thing within his limited capacity.
Calmly, Sunny moved towards her, his movements fluid and deliberate, and gently took Nokstella's hand in his. A gesture of unspoken solace.
She seemed to jolt for a fleeting instant, a ripple of surprise crossing her timeless features, before turning to scrutinize him with her typically frozen expression. Her eyes, however, betrayed a flicker of something akin to confusion, a subtle perturbation in their depths.
["…What is this?"]
She seemed to instinctively raise their clasped hands, tilting her head in a gesture of inquiry.
Sunny shook his head, a wry, understanding smile playing upon his lips.
"It's… comfort. I hope."
Nokstella only then seemed to grasp the full import of Sunny's meaning. His Mythril Shell had been wrought by Nether, therefore, in an abstract sense, his very skin bore a trace of the Demon of Destiny. A subtle yet undeniable connection.
Nokstella's eyes seemed to tremble, a minute tremor within their vast, cosmic depths, as she peered into the intricate structure of Sunny's Shell, the essence of Nether within him. A faint, ethereal smile graced her features, a wisp of a forgotten emotion.
["I…"]
She never completed the thought. The words, whatever they were meant to be, vanished before utterance. She did not comprehend how to articulate such a sentiment, nor did she fully grasp the burgeoning understanding.
Though, what transpired next was something she could never have foreseen, nor would she ever truly comprehend its full implications.
For within Sunny's mind, the Spell's voice echoed, a chilling whisper.
[The 'Prince of the Underworld' is looking at you.']
And then—
[The 'Prince of the Underworld' is looking at 'Storm God, Nokstella.']
Nokstella froze, a sudden, absolute stillness descending upon her, like a deer caught in headlights. A profound terror and confusion gripped her.
["Ah… ah…"] Her breath caught, a stuttered gasp.
["Why…?"] Uttered less as a question, more as a plea to those unseen eyes.
She never received a direct response. Despite the lack of explicit communication, both of them could perceive Nether's gaze upon them. A tangible weight in the ephemeral space.
Sunny could sense Nether's desperate desire to manifest, to cross the chasm of their separate realities and join them, yet he was utterly incapable of incarnating. His physical body had been irrevocably lost to the ravages of Weaver's Spell. And within this Nightmare, he dwelled solely within a Dream of his own making, a self-contained manifestation of his personal world.
He could not traverse the boundaries into Nokstella's dream, a tragic, insurmountable barrier.
Sunny's expression was one of melancholy, a deep-seated sadness etched upon his features. The ceaseless rain continued its endless descent, mirroring the silent tears he imagined Nether could not shed.
It must have been a consequence of the [Blessing of Desire], for in that prolonged moment, Sunny felt the overwhelming surge of emotions within him, threatening to subsume his own will. His Blessings were not powers he possessed complete mastery over, solely because they were fragments of power, belonging to other ancient Gods and Daemons.
It was a perilous situation, akin to the inherent instability of the Kingdom of Hope. If he did not exercise stringent self-control, he risked succumbing to an impulsive, irrational act.
And so, his grip on Nokstella's hand tightened, a silent anchoring.
"Farewell, Nokstella."
Nokstella offered no spoken response, frozen within the unexpected intercession of Nether's spectral presence. But suddenly, before Sunny could deactivate [Dreamwalker], her other hand rose, a delicate, almost hesitant motion, and rested softly upon his cheek.
And just as the dream began its inevitable dissolution, as [Dreamwalker] initiated its deactivation, Sunny's eyes widened. For in that fleeting instant, he saw Nokstella smile at him. Her multicolored, shimmering eyes, previously washed out by cosmic contemplation, now held a distinct gleam of something heartfelt, something akin to gratitude — a rare, ephemeral bloom of emotion.
And as the world shimmered, fracturing into oblivion, he heard the Spell speak once more. A final echo in the departing voice.
[You have received Storm God's Blessing!]
[You have received a large fragment of 'Storm!']
[You have deactivated 'Dreamwalker.']
["…Farewell, Sunless. May your journey be long, guided by the currents of dreams and the whispers of the depths. May your fortune be as vast as the deepest sea, just as his was..."]
—
Sunny found himself drifting upon the Storm Sea, gazing up at the starlit sky. The constellations were dazzling in their brilliance, a tapestry of scintillating cosmic dust illuminating the aqueous expanse.
However… the sole object of his contemplation was where his left hand currently rested.
On the left side of his cheek, precisely where Nokstella had momentarily caressed it.
"Ah…"
His mental state offered no immediate, definitive answer of his emotional state.
To say he was mortified would be incorrect. Flustered? Not entirely.
He felt no singular, identifiable emotion aside from… pervasive bewilderment. A persistent, nagging confusion.
'Just what did she—?'
He recalled it then, the Spell's instantaneous announcement: [You have received Storm God's Blessing!]
But what added onto his already considerable perplexity was an additional, subsequent notification: [You have received a large fragment of 'Storm!']
It needed only an inspection of his Soul Sea to confirm its veracity. Storm God had indeed bestowed upon him a beneficence, akin to those previously granted by all the other Gods.
Attributes: [Fated], [Star of Divinity], [Spirit of Shadows], [Mythril Shell], [Echo of the Stars], [Blood Weave], [Bone Weave], [Soul Weave], [Flesh Weave], [Mind Weave], [Spirit Weave], [Silver Weave], [Curse], [Dreamwalker], [Pure Soul], [Ravenous], [Vessel of Nothing], [Vessel of Darkness], [Vessel of Light], [The Shadow], [Blessing of Peace], [Blessing of Destruction], [Blessing of Storm], [Blessing of Truth], [Blessing of Desire], [Regressor <1863rd Turn> (???)], [???]
He had no delusion; it reposed there, emblazoned, nestled alongside [Blessing of Destruction] and [Blessing of Truth].
And yet, that specific blessing invoked a feeling of peculiar incongruity when compared with its counterparts. A subtle, yet palpable, oddness.
It was solely due to his fundamental nature as a Shadow that the divine imprints remained absent from his physical form. Had he been in his mortal corporeal form as a mere Sleeper, these marks would have manifested upon his very flesh and being.
Slowly rising from the Sea, manifesting obsidian wings that unfurled with a serene grace, the desire to ascend into the sky dwelled within him. He felt it then; the tempestuous Sea around him began to coil, a powerful, unseen current forming beneath him, as if offering a formidable boost to propel his takeoff. However, it was no latent power originating from his own innate abilities that compelled the Sea to respond with such sympathetic vigor.
It was… the Blessing. Just as the divine Blessings of the Gods 'force' the world to react in specific, profound manners — the Sun God's beneficence inflicting an ineluctable, dire fate upon any who dared oppose Sunny, and the Shadow God's imperative causing the soul essence of those touched by Sunny's shadowy embrace to be forcibly expelled and then absorbed — so too did the Storm God's Blessing now manifest its pervasive influence.
It seemed Nokstella's gift conferred upon him the very boons possessed by the beings of the depths. Which, were Sunny to ponder the implications for but a moment, would have presented itself as a truly terrifying prospect.
It required no experimentation to ascertain his ability to breath underwater, alongside an augmented swiftness of movement whilst traversing the Sea. Truly, when immersed in the oceanic domain, an intrinsic empowerment surged through him. But even more remarkably, as he spontaneously ascended into the skies, he found himself unexpectedly elevated to an altitude slightly exceeding his initial intent.
Not that this momentary overshooting was a problem; it was merely an unanticipated consequence of his new blessing.
Turning his corporeal form and looking at his wings, he came to a realization regarding his newfound power.
It was not merely his wings that benefited; currents of ethereal wind now visibly converged around his entire being. Just as with all the other divine blessings, this was a manifestation of the world's primordial Essence, rather than an intrinsic alteration of his own inherent power.
The world itself was now conferring the gales, capable of propelling him wherever his implicit volition dictated. And soon, Sunny recognized the implication of the Spell's second message regarding 'Storm.'
A slow smile, fraught with a nascent glee, stretched across his face.
For indeed, Nokstella had not simply bestowed upon him the capacities of the benthic abyss.
He now possessed the aptitudes of the boundless skies as well.
Sunny no longer required conjured wings to fly.
The world, in its newfound deference, would simply summon the requisite winds and the very skies themselves to grant him flight.
—
A vast expanse of churning, obsidian-hued water stretched horizon-to-horizon, its surface agitated by titanic waves that crested and crashed with the thunderous resonance of siege engines. Above this tumultuous sea, a firmament of stygian clouds perpetually roiled, punctuated by veins of lightning that rent the darkness, branching incandescently as they struck the aqueous depths. Amidst this maelstrom, a colossal vessel, its ancient timbers illuminated by the ephemeral brilliance of the storm's fury, waged an implacable war against the tempest itself.
It was the Night Garden.
This colossal ship, a kilometer from port to starboard, appeared slender due to its immense length. Its ancient wooden hull held no seams, resembling a hollowed branch from some primeval tree. Such a massive tree would have been hard to cut, and fashioning it into a ship, no task for mortals.
The ship acted as a city, intricate with dozens of decks, grandiose palaces, towering pagodas, and hidden mysteries within its boundless holds. It contained lush groves, rushing streams, deep lakes, and an populace. This was the Night Garden, the mighty Citadel of the late House of Night.
Despite the storm's fierce might, the Night Garden traversed the turbulent waters with ease. Its bow sliced through colossal waves, which broke harmlessly against its indestructible hull. Lightning strikes on its masts were absorbed, empowering the ancient vessel. The ship consumed any abominations that attacked it, making them part of its living structure. Even in the perilous Stormsea, the Night Garden's inhabitants had remained relatively safe.
Like the Jade Palace, Sunny's shadow sense could not pierce its hull; the ancient wood dampened his ability to perceive the vessel's vast interior. The citadel also cast a unique shadow; though that made sense now, as Sunny was more than aware that it was truly alive.
He wandered through its silent city, hearing no voices at all. A wave of melancholy washed over him, affirming that humanity, even in this Nightmarish realm, was truly gone.
Usually, Nightmares held some spark of life. A manifestation, often, of the Nightmare itself.
But the only person Sunny had to converse with, beyond the Inner-Dreams of Daemons, was himself. And even that self-dialogue had grown tiresome after over three thousand years.
Hope's Blessing kept him from succumbing to despair, and Ariel's to madness, so he simply tried to embrace the quiet. Or at least, he tried his utmost.
He soon found the specific spot where the Dream's pull was strongest. Yet, upon finding it, he realized something was terribly wrong.
Under typical circumstances, he would activate [Dreamwalker] and descend into the Dream's depths. The same pull was there, distorted. As if a call came from something drowning.
The Inner-Dream of Repose was… drowning.
He could not guess what caused it, but she was sinking.
Even the Fables tied to the Night Garden, from Heart God and Rime, were warped. Or perhaps, some were changing in real time. Whenever Sunny tried to read the Fable of the Night Garden, a sentence would shift, transforming itself.
This was a harrowing sight, given that changing a 'Fable' meant altering one's very existence or history.
'Gods, just what is this?'
Sunny shivered at the sight. The impossible was happening before his eyes.
"…Perhaps this is why I received so many warnings regarding Repose."
It might be that this effect stemmed from her. If Repose could alter Fables so drastically, Sunny's entire plan of attack and defense might collapse.
Yet still, the only way was forward. And so, Sunny took a deep breath.
[You have activated the Attribute 'Dreamwalker.']
He began to fall into the Inner-Dream of Rime, the Demon of Repose.
However… the Spell spoke once more, its voice making Sunny's mind shudder.
[The Attribute 'Dreamwalker' has activated in an unstable manner!]
The Spell's Voice sounded terrified. Even the Nightmare Spell itself was warning him.
But it was too late; Sunny lost consciousness and entered the Dream of Repose.
Yet…
What greeted him was something utterly unexpected. For indeed, it was not long before the Night Garden…
…Began to rouse itself from its profound slumber.