Shadow Slave

The Palace seemed to be on the verge of collapsing by the time Sunny reached its bent, misshapen gates... actually, he wasn’t even sure that the Palace could collapse. Normal buildings were built out of brick, wood, or stone — those in the waking world, meanwhile, were built from cement or metal frames covered by alloy plates. When damaged enough, they crumbled.

The Palace was simply cast from metal, though. There were no seams on its towering walls, and no distinction between its numerous spires. It was like a titanic organ built from countless hollow pipes — Sunny was not sure what music would be produced if the Palace ever sang, and had no idea what its destruction would look like.

It was not an idle interest, either. He needed to know in order not to get buried under the debris...

‘Now is not the time to wonder, though: The giant serpent slithered out of the Palace like an onyx river and coiled briefly on the open space between its gates and the walls of the Dark Castle. Then, it vanished, leaving only Nightwalker, his shadow, and Sunny behind.

The shadow remained motionless, while Nightwalker rolled across the cracked stones with a stifled curse. Sunny, meanwhile, just stood there for a moment, looking at the silk scroll held in his blackened, charred hand.

The rain felt soothing on his skin.

A moment later, the scroll disappeared without a trace, transported onto the altar of the replica of the Nameless Temple standing upon the dark waters of his lightless soul.

“What... what the hell is that?”

Nightwalker was sitting on the ground, staring at his shadow with a strange, mournful expression. It was as if he himself did not understand the bitter feeling of sorrow and longing that the shadow invoked in him, and was confused by that uninvited emotion.

Sunny sensed a deep, indescribable longing emanating from the shadow, as well.

The two clearly wanted to be mended and become whole again... to become one again. Even if neither of them had the capacity to realize that desire consciously.

‘What a touching reunion.’

It seemed like a deeply meaningful scene — a man longing to reunite with his death. There was probably some kind of conclusion about human nature to be drawn from it, but Sunny was not really in the mood for philosophical ponderings.

His burned body hurt too damn much for that.

Lowering his hand, he responded with a shrug:

“That is your shadow.”

Sunny approached Nightwalker and added in a subdued tone:

”Long story short, the Eternal City claimed you by separating you from your shadow. So if we attach it back to your soul, you’ll be able to leave.”

He scrutinized the shadow silently.

“Of course, you will also become mortal again.”

Nightwalker looked around.

The mountainous edifice of the Palace was slowly collapsing in on itself, the entire world seemed to be swallowed by blinding radiance and white flames in the east, a myriad of wraiths was besieging the dwindling formation of the Shadow Legion, a Great Titan was marching toward them across the lake...

And on top of that, the invisible dome holding the obliterating mass of the Stormsea back was on the verge of breaking. Even if one tried really hard, it would be difficult to come up with a worse moment to suddenly become mortal.

Nightwalker grinned.

”Sounds great. Let’s do it.”

There was a profound sense of disbelief hidden behind his carefree tone. It seemed that he had never taken Sunny’s promise to help him escape the Eternal City seriously... at least that was how Sunny interpreted a hint of hopelessness reflecting in Nightwalker’s silver eyes.

He nodded slowly.

‘Can I even do it?’

Well, that was a meaningless question. Sunny was a Supreme, so if he decided to do something, his Will would make it happen. His word was law in the most literal sense... as long as he could enforce that law upon the world.

Before getting to work, Sunny spent a few moments evaluating the situation on the battlefield.

The Shadow Legion was slowly being wiped out, but...

His expression changed subtly.

‘Huh?’

[Cassie, where is Jet?]

None of his incarnations could sense her presence.

The response came shortly:

[She was swallowed by the Soul of Kanakht.] Sunny’’s eyes widened.

[She was what?!]

Four of his incarnations were supporting the Shadow Legion and were therefore present on the battlefield, but he was not omniscient. The reach of his shadow sense was limited in the Eternal City, and most of the northern expanse of the Palace Island was enveloped by mist now.

On top of that, wraiths barely cast shadows. So Sunny was having trouble perceiving the ghostly soldiers and their leader, as well as Jet herself, when she assumed her Transcendent form.

Which was why he had lost track of her for a bit.

[What do you mean, she was swallowed by the Soul of Kanakht?!]

Cassie responded succinctly:

[I’m sure she’ll be fine.]

It would have been more reassuring if she still had the ability to see the future.

Sunny gritted his teeth.

‘It’s... Jet. It’s Master Jet. She knows what she’s doing:

He was uneasy, but knew that he had to do his own part at the moment.

Especially because there was not much time left.

The dome of the Eternal City was coming undone, the damn ghost army was on a rampage, and the Flesh of Kanakht was drawing closer. The whole place was about to collapse.

All of these problems could be easily solved, though...

All Sunny and his companions had to do was run.

While preferable, nothing dictated that they had to slay the Flesh, the Soul, and the Madness of Kanakht. Now that Sunny had gotten what he wanted, they could simply leave the three eldritch abominations at the bottom of the Stormsea and escape.

The only thing standing in their way was the fate of Nightwalker.

As soon as Nightwalker and his shadow were reunited, Sunny would have far more options as far as the end of this expedition was concerned.

So, he glanced at the youthful immortal and smiled.

“Hey... stay still”

Nightwalker raised an eyebrow.

”Okay? But, uh... why did you say it so ominously?”

Sunny kneeled near him, outstretched a hand, and summoned a Memory.

Moments later, Weaver’s Needle fell into his grasp.

”Because I am going to sew you and your shadow back together. Oh... it might hurt, but don’t worry.”

He smiled pleasantly.

“You won’t die.”

With that, four inky-black hands manifested at his sides.

The four hands wove a thread out of shadow essence. The charred arm hung limply, while the second of the original hands held the needle.

Sunny took a deep breath.

And got to work.