Shadow Slave

Crafting a shadowbound Memory for himself was both more difficult and easier than forging the Blessing.

It was more difficult because, this time, Sunny was not going to get assistance from the Spell — that was because he was not a carrier of the Spell, and therefore did not enjoy the benefits of bearing its curse. However, he was also crafting a Memory for himself as opposed to someone else, and so, there was no need to invent complicated tricks to accomplish the desired result. While crafting the Blessing, Sunny had to split the forging process between the real world and Neph’s dream — but this time, he could simply enter his Soul Sea and create the weave of his Memory there.

Plus, he had the benefit of having already accomplished a similar feat once.

One of his incarnations worked at the forge with the shadow of Anvil, while three more sat down, crossed their legs, and closed their eyes. It glanced as if they were meditating, but of course, they were busy in his Soul Sea instead.

Out of there, in the silent expanse of his lightless soul, they wove a vast and unfathomable pattern out of strings of shadow essence. His seven tenebrous shadow cores burned above them like dark suns, bathing the tranquil expanse of still water in the lack of radiance.

Sunny had discovered something curious while preparing for the forging of this Memory. It was that there was a limit to how many relics could be bound to a person’s soul. For most humans, it was just one — most humans only possessed one soul, after all, and it could not accommodate the anchor of more than one weave.

For people like Nephis and Sunny, though, the limit was more generous... perhaps because they were not technically people. So, Sunny had the rare privilege of binding both the Jade Mantle and the Memory he was going to forge today to himself.

That said, he was not sure if his soul would be able to contain a third. So, he had to pour himself into creating this one fully.

In the ruined cathedral of the Dark City, he crafted the charm from the links of the chain with which Hope had been bound. This time, there was little forging and smelting involved — even if Sunny wanted to, he was not confident in his ability to melt the seven iron rings. Simply removing them from the chain had been a daunting effort, already, having taken all of his power and cunning to succeed.

But luckily, he did not need to alter the form of the rings or melt them to create an alloy. He was not forging a weapon, after all — he was crafting a charm. So, most of the process involved grounding the fragment of the bone of the primordial Soul Serpent and frozen shadows into fine dust, mixing it with his blood, and then coating the links of the chain with it.

“I am sorry. I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with our craftsmanship today.”

The shadow of the King of Swords did not respond, of course, assisting him silently.

As they coated the iron links with the mixture of frozen shadows, bone, and his blood, Sunny poured his will into the cold metal, willing it to absorb his intent and the essence of death contained in the black liquid. The real forging was happening somewhere where no one could see — his Will was the hammer, and the world was the anvil.

Each clash was far more destructive than any physical attack could ever be, sending ripples through the fabric of existence.

Within the dark expanse of his Soul Sea, a grand weave was taking form around the seven dark suns. Now that Sunny possessed Flesh Weave, the strings of essence could not cut his fingers anymore — so, each of his incarnations was faster and more efficient in creating the intricate patterns.

His mind had become vast and seemingly boundless, capable of containing the whole design of the weave and all its infinite complexity... and yet, Sunny still felt strained, beads of sweat rolling down his many faces.

‘Work, work...’

The design that he had only envisioned was now becoming a reality. He hoped that it would hold, but knew that it could collapse instead — already, several junctions had come undone under the titanic weight of the great weave, and he had to change the pattern on the spot.

The Mind Weave assisted with that, as well, helping him think faster and envision more possible solutions. However, the problems he faced could not be solved simply by thinking fast — he needed creativity, knowledge, and insight more than volume, and those were not affected by Mind Weave. Still, he had not failed to solve an emerging problem yet.

Time passed slowly, and as it did, he only felt more burdened. He felt tired.

Torrents of shadow essence flowed from his Domain into his soul, and then from his soul into the weave. The clash between his Will and the cold metal of the metal links, as well as the world itself, continued without ever abating. The weave encompassing the dark heavens of his Soul Sea continued to grow and expand, soon filling everything above him. 𐍂áƝỖβÊŠ

An hour passed, then a day.

Then, a few more days.

…On the seventh day, a small earthquake shook the Forgotten Shore.

Standing in the throne room of the Dark Castle with a report in hand, Aiko swayed and stomped her leg on the floor.

”Hey, settle down! What are you, suffering from indigestion?”

But the tremors continued, only growing more violent.

Frowning, she drifted into the air and flew to the window. Looking down upon the Dark City, Aiko realized that it was not Mimic’s fault — the entire city was quaking.

Her gaze turned to the ruined cathedral. On a dark square, the members of the Shadow Clan who had been training there were struggling to stay upright. June swayed with the rest of them, then glanced at their taciturn instructor with a tense expression. Oddly enough, Saint seemed completely calm, keeping her balance easily as if rooted in the ground.

She was looking in the direction of a tall, magnificent, ruined building that was towering above the surrounding streets in the distance.

In the vast silence of the ruined cathedral, the shadow of the King of Swords took a step back and tilted its head, looking at the seven black rings laying side by side on the radiant anvil.

On the other side of it, Sunny smiled tiredly and wiped his sweat with a trembling hand. ‘It’s done.’

He had succeeded.

The runes shimmered in the air in front of him.

They read…

Memory: Curse.