He regarded.
And she—
She broke.
Not in body.
Not in poise.
But in voice.
"…Sunny?"
The name cracked on her lips,
As if she feared it might shatter him.
As if it might shatter her.
Her tone trembled—
Not from cold.
But from a wound that had never been allowed to scar.
"Where were you?" she asked,
Quiet as a confession.
"Where were you for so long?"
The wind didn't answer.
The snow didn't pause.
But he did.
Only slightly.
Only for a moment.
But that was enough.
Enough for the air to thicken with silence.
Enough for the world to wait.
Sunless blinked once.
Not slow. Not fast.
Just deliberately.
As if remembering how to.
His head tilted—fractional.
A marionette unsure if it still obeyed its strings.
"I…"
His voice rasped from somewhere ancient,
From a throat unused to words.
From a soul that had forgotten syllables.
"…was dead."
A pause.
"Then I wasn't."
She flinched.
Not from the words,
But from what wasn't in them.
No ache. No anger. No relief.
Just fact.
Like stone.
He continued, because something—
Perhaps his Flaw, perhaps something else—
Compelled him.
"I walked.
For a long time.
Long enough to stop thinking.
To stop feeling…"
A breath escaped him—
Not needed.
Just remembered.
"It was long."
Her brows knit. "But it's only been—"
"To you."
He cut across her softly.
Not harshly.
Not unkind.
Just… with truth.
"For me, it was forever."
The words didn't echo.
They lingered.
Like frost on bone.
She took a step forward.
Hesitated.
"Do you remember us?"
A beat.
"I remember… trusting you."
Another.
"I remember following you."
Another. Slower now.
"I remember…"
His voice faltered, just slightly.
Like a blade remembering how to bend.
"…loving you."
It wasn't tender.
It wasn't bitter.
It was a statement.
Etched in bedrock.
Unmoved by time.
Her eyes brimmed.
Not because the words were what she wanted—
But because they weren't nothing.
He looked at her, finally.
Really looked.
And though his gaze carried no heat,
It carried weight.
"I remember everything," he said.
"But I do not feel it."
Then, quieter—quieter than the storm had been:
And with that, he turned.
Not away from her.
Just toward the path ahead.
The snow parted before him.
The shadows bowed.
And still, behind him, she followed—
A light holding a threadbare name,
Calling out to a darkness who had become a myth.
"…Sunny…"
He halted…
Why?
That name held no meaning to him.
But…
Why did his heart thump deeper upon hearing it?
Why did his shadows stir—
Not with hunger.
Not with obedience.
But with something dangerously close to… yearning?
"I am not him," he murmured.
But it was too quiet.
Not a denial.
Not even protest.
Just the beginning of a doubt.
Behind him, her boots crunched forward—once.
Twice.
And then… stopped.
"…But you are.," she said.
Three words.
Small as moths.
Heavy as realms.
He did not turn.
Not yet.
He couldn't.
He didn't know how.
Nephis's voice frayed again.
Like she'd stitched it back just for this,
And now it was unraveling.
Still, he didn't turn.
But the snow at his feet…
It melted slightly.
Steam rising in ghostly coils.
"Do you hate me?" she asked.
The question danced on a blade.
And he—he bled.
Not visibly.
Not outwardly.
But in the subtle slump of his shoulders.
In the silence that ached to scream.
"No," he said.
Because it was true.
Because it had always been true.
"I just… don't know if I can find the pieces again."
Nephis stepped forward. Closer now.
The wind no longer dared between them.
"Then let me help you…"
Then, quieter,
"If you want me to..."
He flinched—not from the words.
From the hope in them.
He turned.
At last.
And though his face held no smile,
Though his eyes were still stormless voids…
There was the ghost of something.
Not warmth.
But warmth's shadow.
She blinked.
A breath caught.
And then, for the first time in forever,
He saw her smile.
Crooked. Shy. Sharp as ever.
Silence again.
But this time, it didn't sting.
It waited.
Together, they stood—
Not healed.
Not whole.
But facing the path.
Together.
The snow had stopped falling.
The world had started breathing.
And somewhere deep,
Deep in that threadbare name…
Sunny regarded.
And this time, the darkness didn't feel like his only home.
And deep in the far depths of his soul…
Another dim string, once again, bore shine.
---
Inside the Bastion throne room, tension stood taller than the pillars.
Sovereign Anvil glared from his throne.
Jest held a scroll like it owed him money.
"Well?" Anvil asked.
Jest unfolded the parchment. "Three more Isles gone. Northern arc. Same as last time."
Anvil's jaw clenched. "Cause?"
"Witnesses say the sky turned white. Again. Then everything melted."
Anvil's fingers dug into stone. "Turned white?"
Jest gave a lazy shrug. "Perhaps the sun had a tantrum."
"Casualties?"
"Island. Gone. People. Surprisingly none."
Anvil ground his teeth. "And you waited how long to tell me this?"
Jest grinned. "Well, I was deciding how to phrase 'incinerated.' Thought you'd appreciate nuance."
Anvil flung his crown. It whistled past Jest's ear.
Jest blinked. "Wow. Was that the royal response?"
"…Send word," Anvil commanded. "Warn the others."
"Already did. You're welcome."
Anvil sank back onto the throne, eyes dark.
Jest placed the crown gently beside him.
"Want it back?"
Anvil didn't answer.
Jest smirked. "I'll take that as a maybe."
Then came a stillness.
Like breath held by the room itself.
Anvil's face hardened—stone remembering war.
Jest snickered, "Hey, no need to glare. Was just a joke."
"There's another one," Anvil said, voice cold as he slowly rose.
"Another Supreme…"
---
In the Ivory Tower.
Four faces watched.
Worried.
Wary.
Unreadable.
At the threshold stood Nephis.
And beside her—
a ghost wearing the shape of a man.
Sunless.
It had not been easy.
Crossing realms with a Supreme Titan in tow?
But Nephis wasn't just any Transcendent.
She was a Titan.
A Transcendent Titan still clawing at the door of natural Supremacy.
She hadn't found it.
But she'd learned enough to wield will in a rudimentary form.
And now—
here they were.
"Doofus! You're back!"
Effie's voice cracked like sunlight through stormclouds.
Sunny didn't answer.
Didn't smile.
Only glanced.
The silence that followed was louder than her joy.
She turned to Nephis, confused.
The silver-haired star only offered a faint smile—
as brittle as old glass.
"Sunny…"
It was Kai now, voice trembling.
"What happened? Where were you?"
Sunny met his gaze—
but the warmth was gone.
The bond they'd once forged in blood and shadow?
Dimmed.
His voice echoed against marble.
"I was dead."
A beat.
"Then I wasn't."
Another.
"I walked the Shadow Realm."
Flat. Hollow. Final.
Then—
His eyes found her.
Cassie.
The Seer.
The traitor.
The one he considered a sister…
The seer who'd seen too much—
and done too little.
The girl who could have stopped it.
But pushed him to it.
His stare carved through her.
And in that look, she saw every scar she'd never bled for.
"I—I'm sorry…"
Her voice cracked like old porcelain.
"I didn't know what would happen…"
Sunny was stone.
And then—
a flicker.
Not warmth.
Not grief.
Rage.
Old.
Raw.
Burning slow.
"You knew."
His words dropped like knives.
"You saw. And you let it happen."
Jet stiffened.
Effie's smile died.
Kai turned pale.
"…What?" Jet whispered.
Sunny didn't reply from spite.
His Flaw tore the truth from his lips.
"She saw it. All of it.
And she chose to forge a weapon…
Against fate."
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Not even Cassie.
Then Nephis stepped forward,
Her voice a quiet thread holding the pieces together.
"Enough."
She looked at them all—each one unraveling.
"Let him rest. He's… tired."
She touched his arm.
He didn't pull away.
And together, they walked down the hall.
The ghost and the one who'd brought him home.
Behind them, no one spoke.
But the silence was not empty.
It was waiting.
Inside the room…
as the door clicked shut behind them,
Nephis exhaled—slow, controlled.
Then spoke:
"Supreme Sunny…"
He met her eyes.
Unblinking. Unreadable.
She said no more.
As if the title was the question.
But to him…
names were just names
and questions were just questions.
He waited.
So she clarified—
still unsure of the man who had returned.
"Can you tell me how you became Supreme?"
Sunny turned his gaze.
Not toward her, but downward—
to his arm.
There, coiled around pale skin,
a serpent stirred.
As if… listening.
As if it already knew.
"I died to solitude,"
he said quietly.
A beat.
"I lived because of him…
That's how I became what I am."
Then—
something unexpected.
Impossible.
Even in this world of miracles and monsters.
The man with nothing left to feel—
felt.
His eyes, once void, once ash,
glimmered with something real.
Raw.
He looked at the serpent—
his only witness through eons of silence.
The creature that had followed him through shadow and madness,
never breaking,
never doubting.
Not a beast.
Not a servant.
But kin.
Forged by suffering.
Anchored by loyalty.
And above all…
one truth:
It saw him as home.
As Father.
And Sunny…
the boy who had once given up on life, and sought the mercy of death—
Smiled.
Not with joy.
Not with peace.
But with recognition.
With love, ancient and bitter and wordless.