"He said no?"
"Yes, father."
Morgan answered,
her voice cold—
not from defiance,
but discipline.
A blade honed on expectation.
The King of Swords did not look at her.
He tapped the armrest of his throne—twice.
Each knock a judgment,
not upon her,
but the world.
"There was a mundane he cared about… what was her name again?"
His tone was flat,
like steel left in frost.
Not curiosity.
Calculation.
"A young girl," Morgan said.
"In the Waking World.
Her name is Rain.
His sister."
A pause.
The King of Swords shifted,
ever so slightly—
as if the air had offered resistance
and he'd chosen to carve through it.
Then, he spoke.
Not with fury.
Not with threat.
But with the bone-deep chill of inevitability.
"Then make use of her."
A moment,
Another tap.
Final this time.
A verdict dressed in silence.
"Bring him in."
---
In the quiet marrow of the Ivory Tower,
two figures danced.
Not with grace.
Not with joy.
But with remembrance—
and the ache that clung to it.
Sunny and Nephis were sparring.
No crowd.
No fanfare.
Only the hum of steel and the hush of breath.
For one who had endured eons of solitude—
with nothing to fight but time,
and nothing to fear but forgetting—
the blade was not a tool.
It was ritual.
A whisper of what once was.
Of who once was.
His body moved with practiced silence.
A predator in human shape.
A god carved from ash and stillness.
The instincts…
those didn't fade.
They never faded.
And across from him,
Nephis stood with sword in hand—
not blazing, not aflame—
but steady.
There was something softer in her today.
A different heat.
She smiled, faintly.
A shadow of the old days.
"Hey, Sunny…
do you remember when I first taught you to wield a sword?"
Her voice carried across the marble,
soft as dawn,
fragile as memory.
"On the Forgotten Shore."
He turned his head toward her.
Not fast. Not slow.
Like the weight of that place still clung to him.
He looked first at her blade—
simple, familiar.
Then at her hands.
Then her eyes.
"I remember everything you taught me."
He spoke flatly.
But something cracked at the edges.
Not warmth.
Not pain.
Just the echo of almost.
And for her,
it was enough.
So she moved.
A step forward.
Then a lunge—
clean and arcing, blade flashing down.
Sunny raised his odachi.
Not with effort.
Not even intent.
Just instinct.
The shadows obeyed.
Steel met silence.
The clash was brief—
not loud, not wild.
Just efficient.
Precise.
He didn't press the advantage.
Not yet.
Nephis spun, reengaging.
A feint, then a sweep at his flank.
He didn't retreat.
Didn't even blink.
His sword flowed like ink in water.
A single parry turned into a counter.
His body moved the way rivers forget their banks.
She adjusted.
She was fast.
Controlled.
Brilliant.
But he was—
More.
More capable.
More complete.
More distant.
A Supreme not by name,
but by nature.
Once, she had taught him.
Now, she was chasing echoes of a lesson long since outgrown.
She slashed high—
he dipped beneath.
She pivoted low—
he stepped through it.
Not mocking.
Not cruel.
Just inevitable.
Another exchange—this time faster.
Their blades danced, collided, rebounded.
One-two, a beat, then three.
She struck with force, with purpose—
And he stopped her every time.
Not because he wanted to win.
But because losing had long since left his vocabulary.
His next swing carved the air—
not wild, not reckless,
but total.
She barely blocked it, knees bending with the force.
Her heels slid back.
Hair disheveled, breath shortened.
She smiled.
Not because she enjoyed it.
But because she missed it.
Another clash.
Steel on shadow,
radiance on void.
A parry. A pivot. A step within reach.
Sunny moved.
Not with fury.
But finality.
A blur.
One strike,
a twist of his wrist,
and her weapon spun from her hand.
It hit the ground with a sigh of defeat.
His odachi halted—
a finger's width from her throat.
Silence fell like snow.
No gloating.
No words.
Just his eyes—
black as regret—
watching her.
Breathing shallow.
Face unreadable.
And beneath the cold…
A flicker.
Not mercy.
Not memory.
But something that hadn't died.
Not completely.
A voice cut through—
light, but not unwelcome.
Effie.
"Hey guys!"
Sunny withdrew—
The spar was over.
Not lost.
Not won.
Just… done.
Both turned as the silence settled,
dismissing their armaments with a thought—
darkness dissolved into shadows,
and flame flickered into sparks,
then nothing.
Effie stood at the edge of the room,
smiling, but cautious.
"We were thinking…"
She scratched her cheek,
eyes flicking between them.
"Maybe Sunny should visit Rain.
She'll be happy—
knowing her teacher is alive."
A beat.
A pause too deliberate to be casual.
"…We could even tell her Sunny's her brother."
Nephis didn't answer at once.
Her gaze lingered on Sunny—
not on his face,
but on the space around him.
The distance he wore like armor.
She exhaled.
Soft.
Measured.
"I was planning to take him today."
Then, a flicker of something gentler—
"But we'll go together."
---
In the quiet hum of dusk, a PTV rolled through NQSC.
Jet drove—eyes forward, expression unreadable—while the others sat in silence.
No jokes.
No jabs.
Just the soft murmur of tires kissing old asphalt.
This wasn't the nicest neighborhood in the city—
but it tried.
Brick façades too polished to be modest,
lawns trimmed with curated wildness,
doors with cameras, bells with names.
Wealth… but not the ostentatious kind…
The functional kind.
Sunny leaned back, eyes half-lidded,
More so out of memory than intent.
watching memories blur past the windows.
His house came first.
Or what had once been his.
Elegant. Stark.
Like a cursed creature dressed in suburban paint.
Close to it—Rain's.
Bright. Polished.
Curtains in the windows. A windchime on the porch.
Home.
She'd been adopted by good people.
People with means.
People who didn't know that the boy she called "Teacher"
had walked in solitude for eons.
Tensions hung like smoke.
Cassie sat across from him—
Shoulders taut.
Lips silent.
Guilt still chewing at her like rot under porcelain.
He hadn't spoken to her since they had shared memories.
He hadn't needed to.
Jet's voice finally broke the quiet, drifting in from the front:
"So… Sunny."
A pause. Not for breath, but weight.
"You gonna tell her she's your sister?"
The PTV slowed.
Rain's house loomed beyond glass and shadow.
A porch shone dimly.
"Yes…"
Sunny stared at it.
Maybe… just maybe… he would feel something.
Hope.
Gratitude.
Warmth.
But—
nothing.
Until—
Movement.
The girl stepped onto the lawn.
Black hair, shoulder-length, messy in a way she didn't care to fix.
Pale skin.
A standard school uniform.
Rain.
She stood quietly, arms folded around herself like a barrier.
Then—
a sigh.
She whispered, soft as breath.
Too soft for mortals.
But not for them.
Not for Saints.
And certainly not for a Sovereign.
"Teacher… where are you…"
She had prayed to ancient gods,
not knowing they were dead.
Didn't know one had been watching her all along.
Sunny didn't move—
but something inside him did.
A tremor.
Invisible.
Silent.
A flicker of who he used to be.
His brow twitched. Yet no smile.
Not enough to notice.
But felt.
Like an ember buried beneath centuries of ash.
And still—
not enough to burn.
Not yet.
Opposite the lawn, across the street—
a man walked.
Suit. Coffee. Communicator in hand.
The picture of mundanity.
But Sunny saw through veils.
So did the rest.
A Saint.
They didn't know his name.
Didn't need to.
Saints were hurricanes wrapped in skin,
The man passed a PTV.
Crossed the road.
Came closer.
Too close.
Five meters.
Three.
One.
Sunny's eyes sharpened.
And in the stillness—
he sensed it.
Not intent.
Not motion.
But displacement.
The world itself stirred.
He moved—
a blur between moments.
His form unspooled, turning incorporeal—
shadow splitting from flesh.
He shadow-stepped,
crossing distance as if it never existed.
But by the time he reformed—
by the time the air remembered he was real again—
the world had already changed.
There was no sound.
No cry.
Just absence.
Rain was gone.
The Saint had vanished with her—
slipped into the Dream Realm as easily as a breath exhaled.
Effie swore.
Kai gasped.
Cassie's eyes widened.
Nephis summoned a sword, even though there was no enemy left to strike.
Only Sunny remained still.
His shadow twitched.
The Serpent's form on him shifted, hissing low.
But Sunny didn't speak.
Didn't scream.
Didn't curse the sky.
He just looked at the patch of grass.
where his sister had stood.
The wind blew.
The chime rang.
And for the second time in a very long time—
his silence… cracked.