Shadow Slave: Foreign shadow

Sunny had passed the trial.

​He and Thene now found themselves in a vast, rectangular hall.

Unlike the Shadow maze they had left behind, this space was bathed in a dim, spectral black light that seemed to pulse from above. The shadows here felt different—more ancient, more sentient. They didn’t just sit in the corners; they breathed, they whispered, they lived.

​A cobblestone road bisected the hall, flanked on either side by a row of Ionic columns. When Sunny looked up, he found no ceiling. Instead, a bottomless abyss stared back at him, teeming with countless invisible eyes.

​He shivered, feeling those eerie gazes latch onto him. As if sensing his unease, Thene gently squeezed his hand. ”They like you!” She whispered, her voice like a guardian angel’s.

​Every time the Priestess turned to him, Sunny caught a glimpse of a sorrowful joy in her eyes—the ghost of someone she clearly mourned. She hid it well, but the weight of her gaze was unmistakable.

​At the far end of the hall, an Elder knelt in prayer before an altar.

The altar itself was strikingly plain: a simple shelf carved from a single piece of black marble, devoid of anything.

​Still holding Sunny’s hand, the Priestess led him toward it.

​As they approached, the Elder stood and turned to face them. He was an old man, bald and weathered, with a thick, neatly trimmed beard.

His gaze first met Thene’s onyx eyes before shifting to Sunny. Placing a hand over his chest, he offered a slight, solemn bow. ​”Welcome back, Sister Thene.” He said, his voice echoing with gravity.

​Thene returned the gesture with equal emphasis. ”Greetings to you, Gaston, High Priest of Shadows. Today, I stand before you to-”

​”Thene!” Gaston chuckled softly, cutting her off. ”If you wish, you can drop the act now.”

​Sunny nearly stumbled. ’Drop the act? What did he mean?’

​Sunny turned toward Thene. For a moment, the Priestess of Shadows remained silent and motionless, maintaining her solemn, composed attitude—the perfect image of a Priestess.

​Then...

​”It was about goddamn time!” she breathed, finally breaking character. ”You have no idea how much of a pain in the ass all these ceremonies are!” She stretched her arms high over her head, her joints popping as she loosened her muscles.

​Gaston narrowed his eyes. ”I don’t? Do I need to remind you that I am the highest-ranking official here and, consequently, the one who suffers most from these... ceremonies, as you call them?”

​Thene didn’t bother to reply. She simply crossed her arms with an offended huff.

​Sensing a gaze on her, she turned to the boy at her side. Sunny was staring, unable to believe that the saintly Priestess of Shadows possessed such a blatant double face.

​Her lips curved into a wicked smile.

”Young shadow, if you keep looking at me like that, I can’t help but get shy. Ah! But... then again, you are young and healthy, and I am breathtakingly beautiful and as pure as fine linen. It’s only natural for you to have certain fantasies.” She finished with a seductive lilt, purely to tease him.

​Sunny flushed red. ’No, but~ what the hell?’

​”No! I wasn’t-”

​Thene waved a dismissive hand at him. ”Don’t worry! You don’t need to feel ashamed. I noticed how you were staring at me from the moment we met. If you’d like, I can lead you to your new quarters right now to... ’help’ you cool those boiling spirits.” She punctuated the offer with a playful wink.

​Sunny fell silent, his mind blank. He knew that if he tried to defend himself, she would only use his words as more ammunition to torment him.

​She laughed—a loud, delighted sound—at the sight of his face turning as red as a tomato.

​After the banter, Gaston cleared his throat loudly, attempting to regain control of the situation.

​”So...” He began. ”Is he the one? Our Receptacle?”

​Recomposing herself, Thene nodded. ”It’s him.” She said, her voice turning sharp and direct.

​The High Priest met Sunny’s gaze. His eyes were kind. ”What is your name, young shadow?”

​Sunny opened his mouth to speak his own name, but before he could utter a sound, Thene spoke for him.

​”Thamriel, Father Gaston. His name is Thamriel.”

​Sunny’s gaze snapped back to Thene. ’So it’s true. She really does know the boy I’ve replaced in my First Nightmare.’

​Gaston let the name roll off his tongue, tasting it. ”Thamriel. Good! A fine name—quite poetic, I dare say. The brightest star residing in the shadow of the Sun. Rather fitting for a receptacle of the Shadow God.”

​A cold shiver ran down Sunny’s spine. ”A receptacle for what?” He blurted out, terrified by the implications of hosting a deity.

​The High Priest didn’t answer immediately. He blinked in disbelief, as if he had expected Sunny to already be fully aware of his fate.

Gaston looked at Thene with arched eyebrows, though he addressed the boy. ”Let me guess... Thene hasn’t explained a single thing to you, has she?”

​Sunny shook his head. The Elder sighed and dragged a hand across his face.

​Meanwhile, Thene giggled, clearly amused by the confusion. Sunny watched her, appalled. The image of the perfect Priestess he had built in his mind was now in tatters, replaced by this lazy, taunting woman.

​Gaston spread his arms and began to explain: ”A receptacle, boy, is a bridge. Those who hold the rank of Priest or Priestess have the duty to spread the word. A receptacle, however, is the Axis. Their duty is to welcome the divine within themselves to dictate that word. As the receptacle of the Shadow God, you shall be that bridge. But fear not! You will not lose yourself on this journey, for a receptacle is also one who shares the very blood of the Shadow God.”

​Sunny blinked. The explanation offered a small comfort, but the full picture remained blurry.

​Gaston sighed and continued: ”One year from now, once your training is complete, you will embark on a pilgrimage toward the old road that leads to the summit of the Black Mountain to the Northwest. There, you will find a temple as ancient as time itself. If its Guardian deems you worthy—as it surely will—you must enter and stand before an altar. There, you will perform the sacred ritual of our clergy to invoke the Shadow God and be accepted as one of his children.”

​Sunny’s eyes widened, a spark of recognition igniting when the Elder mentioned the word ”ritual.”

​Noticing the change, Gaston smiled complacently. ”Ah! I see I finally have your attention, young shadow. Thene, I leave the honor to you.”

​Thene placed her right hand over her heart and gave a brief, solemn bow, slipping back into her role as the Priestess of Shadows.

​She walked to the center of the rectangular hall, leaving Sunny and Gaston standing before the altar to observe.

Once there, her Mark of Shadow, the pitch-black snake tattoo carved on her back, came to life and moved towards her raised right arm, turning itself into a simple black sword.

Suddenly, from the abyss above, the shadows went deadly silent.