Shadow Slave: Foreign shadow

Sunny sat in the desk chair of his room, submerged in shadows. His legs were tucked under the table, his right heel drumming an incessant beat against the floor, keeping time with the perpetual gears of his thoughts.

​His left elbow rested on the corner of the desk, his hand cradling his chin. In his right hand, a pen hovered and twitched against the wood, joining his foot in a restless duet that disturbed the room’s quiet. His gaze was fixed on a small white rectangle of paper, stained with ink, lying before him. The sheet was split down the middle by an imaginary line, with a list etched onto each half.

​The left list was a sequence of events from the immediate future:

•​Arrival at the Forgotten Shore;

•​The Soul-Devouring Tree;

•​The Bright Castle;

•​The journey for the Dawn Shard and the return;

•​The Bright Lord’s demise;

•​Conquering the Crimson Spire;

•​The final Struggle for the return.

​For him, it was useless to debate events still far on the horizon, so he chose to focus on the immediate storm. Each of these points hid a massive question mark, as the timeline had already shifted and many variables were likely no longer the same.

​The right list, instead, contained the themes he needed to address:

•​The ???;

•​The matter of [the Heart];

•​Shadows and Memories;

•​Knowledge of the Spell, the Gods, and the Daemons;

•​Practicing the Shadow Dance;

•​Becoming Stronger;

•​Which Mask do I want to wear?

​The points on these lists could easily have been grouped differently or renamed, and many intertwined across the divide. Sunny had chosen this layout to give each thought as much space as the lines on the paper allowed.

​> the Jiminy Cricket asked, fearing a potential leak of information. Sunny saw him standing beside the paper, leaning on its cane with his top hat tilted away from the ink-stained rectangle.

​Sunny gave him a look. ’I see where you’re going with this, but don’t worry. I’m not that reckless. I defy you to find an Asian in this era who can read a Romance language that has long since fallen into disuse,’ he thought, a proud smirk flitting across his face.

​Then, he returned his focus to the lists. Shadows danced restlessly across the onyx irises of his eyes.

​

’So...’ Sunny continued to tap the pen tip against the wood, deep in concentration. ’Where do I begin?’

​While he weighed his decisions, Thene—busy wrinkling the pressed linens behind him—stared at him, annoyed. She wore a heavy pout, clearly displeased at being continuously ignored on the bed.

​Slowly, his right hand moved, and the pen tip came to a rest on the paper. Simultaneously, the mental image of his Flaw moved and pointed its cane toward the left side of the sheet.

​Sunny decided to start with the left list.

​

’Point one: Arrival at the Forgotten Shore,’ Sunny thought, underlining the name of the Death Zone. He pressed the end of the pen against his chin, pinning the paper down with his left hand.

​

’There’s no doubt about it. My starting point will be the Forgotten Shore—specifically, on the Dark Sea, right beside the statue of the headless knight. Orientation will be vital there, as will a healer-slash-fighter to keep things moving. Better yet if she can provide a heat source. Therefore, regardless of everything, I’m destined to reunite with Nephis and Cassie in the Crimson Labyrinth.’ Sunny jotted the reasoning down.

​> the Jiminy Cricket suggested sarcastically, tilting its head, clearly unconvinced by the rigor of his logic.

​Sunny narrowed his eyes. ’I’ve been reincarnated as Sunless, not Klein Moretti.’ He leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. ’My conviction stems from the fact that despite the ”aftershocks” of my reincarnation, the main structure of Fate remains unchanged. My First Nightmare ended at the temple atop the black mountain, Jet oversaw my trial, and I met Nephis and Cassie at the Academy. The foundations are intact; therefore, my first stop is the Shore.’

​He stretched his arms and concluded: ’Besides, how else am I supposed to reclaim Weaver’s lineage? I highly doubt that eight-armed cuckold wants to give up on claiming my existence as their heir. And I’m far too greedy to pass up the advantages.’

​As he worked, Thene—silently having risen from the bed—positioned herself to his right. She began morbidly poking his cheek with a finger, her pout deepening, clearly exhausted by being constantly ignored. But Sunny was too submerged in his thoughts to notice her.

​

’If everything goes well, the rest should follow one step at a time.’ Under the subsequent points—the Soul-Devouring Tree, the Bright Castle, and the journey for the Dawn Shard—Sunny listed items to recover, people to meet, and locations to visit, all to ensure the story didn’t deviate further than it already had. He double-checked his notes repeatedly. Then, he paused at the fifth point.

​

’Point five: The Bright Lord’s Demise.’ Sunny tapped the pen tip against the paper and the cap against the wood. ’This is where things start to get serious. Once the Crown of Dawn is recovered, that Autistic Blowtorch’s hands will be itching to kill Gunlaug—assuming he’s still the current Ruler of the Dark City. The problem is that once he’s gone, a bloody power struggle will erupt.’

​Sunny drew a small doodle under the fifth point: a torch wearing a dunce hat impaling a stick-man with a crown. Next to it, he wrote five names.

​

’Seishan, Gemma, Kido, Tessai, and Harus. Gunlaug’s lieutenants. If I want to avoid a massacre, I need to make them my allies. But I doubt I can convince them all. Harus is too loyal to Gunlaug, even in death, and Tessai is just waiting to decapitate the tyrant to become the new despot.’

​Sunny crossed out those two names with sharp, horizontal lines. ’That leaves Seishan, Gemma, and Kido. Their support alone should be enough to pacify the masses. I’ll figure out the details later. Next: Conquering the Crimson Spire. That tower is our ticket home. I’ll need to kill the seven guardians, seal the Dark Sea, and take down the sun at the summit. Easy-peasy!’

​

’Given my Aspect’s stealth, that job will inevitably fall to me while the others hold off the Nightmare Creatures. The real problem comes after... Point seven: The final Struggle for the return.’

​Sunny froze, the pen hovering over the last point. His mind wandered back to the original story. He could have merged points six and seven, but the distinction was necessary.

​This was where everything fell apart. The very first act of the tragedy. Where Sunless lost his freedom forever. Where Nephis was left trapped in that Death Zone for nearly two years, only returning after conquering her Second Nightmare alone. But above all, it was where Cassie began to break, eventually becoming the hollow shell known as the Song of the Fallen—a perfect puppet for them.

​Weaver, the Daemon of Fate.

​Sunny tossed the pen onto the table, pushed his chair back, and stared at the ceiling. He inhaled deeply, covering his nose and mouth with both hands, sliding them slowly down his face as he exhaled.

​Meanwhile, dejected and ignored, Thene had retreated to a corner, playing with building blocks she had fashioned out of the room’s shadows.

​> the Cricket asked, standing on the desk with its cane in hand.

​That question had by now become a joke that had been repeated ad nauseam.

​Sunny lowered his head, eyes fixed on the floor, hands resting on his thighs. He looked back at the mental projection of his Flaw. After a few seconds of agonizing silence, he spoke without hesitation:

​

’I intend to leave Nephis at the Forgotten Shore to rot.’