Nephis stared ahead, focused on navigation, guiding the Chain Breaker through the impossible sea. At the same time, she silently practiced the sorcery of names that Ananke had taught her—an ancient, nearly forgotten art once used by the Awakened of primordial ages.
At first, she had learned it out of sheer necessity. To sail the river of time, she had to invoke the true names of things: of water, of wind, of wood, of the ship itself. Each name was different, unique, and each was more difficult to pronounce than the last.
Because, in theory... a true name existed for everything.
The thought sent a faint chill down her spine.
She did not yet know the limits of that sorcery, but she understood something essential: it was extremely dangerous. Speaking a true name was not merely calling something—it was exerting authority over its existence.
One day—if she survived long enough—she might invoke the true name of fire and make her divine flames burn with incomparable power simply by doing so. And beyond fire... there were concepts. Destruction. Ruin. Death.
The only real limit was herself.
Nephis sighed softly.
It was a pity that Sunny seemed to be terrible at that kind of sorcery. He was probably not even compatible with it. For once, fate appeared to have been... balanced.
Because it would have been far too unfair if Sunny had mastered that art as well.
He would have been like the protagonist of some absurd novel—someone whose very existence broke all the rules, advancing effortlessly while everything around him fell apart. Nephis did not remember novels or web stories very well from her childhood—she had always preferred music—but the idea felt familiar.
Then again...
At that very moment, Sunny was improving the Crown of Dawn... or something like that. He had borrowed it a few days ago. He was not exactly "improving" it. He was weaving it. That was the name of that ancient, forgotten sorcery tied to Weaver, the Demon of Fate.
A unique ability.
One that no human being should probably possess.
Perhaps Sunny really was the protagonist of some unfair story.
Nephis shook her head faintly.
What nonsense am I thinking...?
She lifted her gaze to the vermilion sky. Lately, she found herself thinking about too many trivial, unimportant things. It was not necessarily bad—she was still human, after all—but it was unlike her.
They were sailing on a river of time. They could die at any moment.
She should have been making plans. Thinking about how to find Kai, Effie... or Cassie.
And at the thought of Cassie, Nephis narrowed her eyes without realizing it, maintaining the ship's course with precise, automatic movements. There were not many obstacles lately, but she did not lower her guard.
Cassie...
What was she supposed to do about her best friend?
Nephis had never been a sociable person. Effie used to joke that there was "something wrong with her head," or that she had some kind of illness. And yet, she had found a partner before the rest of the cohort.
Though she would never admit it out loud, she was bad at human relationships.
She did not know how to comfort people well. She did not know how to organize fun things. And despite what many believed, she got nervous easily and said foolish things.
But being socially awkward did not stop her from seeing the enormous conflict between Sunny and Cassie.
On the Forgotten Shore, they had been inseparable—like siblings. Now... they had probably not exchanged a hundred words in two years.
And that hurt.
Because on one side was her boyfriend. On the other, her best friend. A friend she cherished deeply.
Cassie was the first person Nephis had ever trusted with her life without reservation. And despite being blind, she had saved Nephis more than once. Without her, Nephis would have died on the Forgotten Shore, the victim of some poorly executed plan.
Sunny would have ended up alone, talking to his shadows in the Dark City.
But the greatest problem was this:
How could she help repair that relationship... when a large part of the damage had been her fault?
Sunny had forgiven Nephis—somehow, and completely against his nature—for speaking his true name. She had been lucky. Incredibly lucky that he had not killed her when she returned unconscious from the Second Nightmare.
The reason... she never knew. And she had never dared to ask.
Now, what could she do, at the very least, to help her two friends?
It was dangerous. Sunny might get angry with her. But still... she would try.
She was only going to ask.
So she reviewed the plan with surgical care:
One: if Sunny did not want to talk about it, respect that. Stop there.
Two: do not deceive him. Do not manipulate him. Do not try to force him to forgive Cassie through underhanded means.
Three: always remember one and two.
Nephis looked at Sunny. As far as she knew, he had finally finished weaving the Crown of Dawn, which meant he was free.
She took a deliberately firm step to draw his attention.
Sunny turned and offered her a small smile.
"Hi, Neph."
"Hi, Sunny," she replied.
She stood there, watching him in silence, reviewing each step in her mind one last time. His onyx-colored eyes began to show a hint of discomfort.
Thirty seconds like that would make anyone uneasy.
"Is something wrong?" he finally asked.
Nephis hesitated for only an instant.
"Sunny... do you think we could talk?"
He frowned slightly.
"Uh... aren't we already doing that?"
She resisted the urge to hit him. That had not sounded like a joke. It had sounded genuine.
"It's about Cassie."
The words slipped out on their own. And with them, a weight Nephis had not realized she was carrying eased just a little.
Sunny did not answer immediately. He narrowed his eyes, raised one eyebrow slightly, and fell silent. A thick, uncomfortable silence stretched between them.
"I don't know..." he murmured at last, almost to himself.
He fell quiet again. Then, as if losing patience with himself—
"Damn it..."
He looked away, fixing his gaze on a plank of the ship with absurd concentration, as though it were the most interesting thing in the world.
"What about her?" he asked quietly.
Nephis felt her heart jump slightly.
Think... improvise. But follow the steps. Surgical precision.
"Do you hate her?" she asked, almost in a whisper.
Sunny kept staring at the wood for a long time. So long that Nephis began to think he would not answer.
"I... no. I don't think so," he said at last. "I don't know."
"If I hated her... I would have tried to kill her. And I never did. So I guess I don't."
It was a cold, logical answer. Very Sunny.
Nephis nodded faintly. It was something. A minimal, but real, step forward.
"And...?" she tried to say.
She did not finish the question.
Sunny let out a short laugh. Brief. Humorless.
Nephis looked at him. Since she had mentioned Cassie, he had avoided looking at her directly. Now he did.
In those dark eyes there was no hatred. No anger. No sharp intent.
There was something worse.
Distance.
A deep, weary melancholy. An old sadness.
Sunny looked away again.
"You know," he said after a while, "she never apologized. Not even once."
Nephis felt a small уap to her chest.
"After I woke up from the Forgotten Shore... I said horrible things to her." He paused. "Things I'm not proud of. But if I went back to that day... I'd say them again."
His fingers tightened slightly against the wood.
"I called her a traitor. I said things just to hurt her."
He swallowed.
"That was the only time I ever saw her truly regretful. She cried a lot."
Sunny gave a dry laugh.
"And yet, she never apologized."
He shrugged, feigning indifference.
"Sure, an apology wouldn't have fixed anything. I probably would've insulted her again right away, but..."
His voice trailed off.
"If she never apologized... then in the end, I was never that important to her. Don't you think?"
The last sentence came out so quietly it almost vanished into the air.
"And I thought..." he added in a barely audible murmur, "that she was like my sister."
Nephis opened her eyes slowly.
This had nothing to do with hatred.
It was a much deeper wound.
She never apologized...? she thought, a flash of anger toward Cassie flickering briefly before fading.
She had something more important to do.
She stepped closer without saying anything and sat down beside Sunny. She did not speak. She did not try to fix it. She did not try to justify anyone.
She was simply there.
Nephis's presence was enough for something inside Sunny to give way. An invisible weight, accumulated over years.
"I shouldn't have..." she began.
She did not finish the sentence.
Sunny lowered his head and carefully rested it against Nephis's shoulder.
She understood the gesture instantly.
Don't speak. Don't say anything.
And she obeyed.
She remained still, allowing him to lean against her, silently hoping that—even if only a little—her presence might ease the sadness