Was he dead? That was currently his only thought, seeing as he was in pitch darkness. Though despite it being pitch black, he could see one thing in front of him a shadow. Before anything, he tried to speak to no avail, as if his function to use speech was stripped from him here. Each step he took towards it felt like he was getting closer to a truth, a truth he didn't know he was looking for.
Has it been hours? Months? Years? He was still walking towards that single shadow that he could somehow make out in the pitch darkness.
"Could you accept your fate?"
Where did that voice come from? Looking around, trying to extend his shadow sense, only realizing now that it didn't work.
"Would your death have any meaning?"
He finally knew where the voice was coming from. It was coming from the shadow.
"Will you regret?"
Those were the last things Sunny heard before falling. It felt as if his body was being pulled and torn off string by string, but for some reason, it wasn't painful. Rather, it felt as if he was fading away— which, somehow, He would prefer feeling regular pain. As the very last strand of himself was gone, his consciousness faded before being jolted back as he felt himself whole once more. Though he wasn't in that void anymore; rather, he was laying in a field of grass. Not wasting any time, he hurriedly stood before freezing at what he saw.
It wasn't a mansion — no, it was too small to be that — but it wasn't a regular house either, much larger than one. Still, that wasn't the thing that made him freeze. Rather, it was seeing who was running in the field behind the ginormous home. It was Nephis, though much smaller and younger-looking, appearing to be no older than seven, and a woman who bore a striking resemblance to her whom he recognized. It was Smile of Heaven. But that didn't make sense, as she should be a Hollow at this point in time. Something was wrong, but for some reason, his mind was still calm. So to speak, it was like any sand that landed on his mind was washed away by waves before it could take root.
Putting that matter aside for now, he tried to yell out for them — to no avail. Deciding if he couldn't speak, he would somehow need to communicate with his body. He ran up to them. He didn't want to scare them, but it was like his footsteps didn't make any noise. Finally reaching his destination, attempting to touch Smile of Heaven on the shoulder was met with his hand sinking through her body as if he was a ghost. If he was lost before, now it was as if he was stranded in the middle of the ocean without knowing how to swim.
He's been following them for around half an hour, seeing if he could even move something as small as a branch around as to alert them, only to realize he couldn't interact with anything at all. Right after having this thought, the world began to spin. His vision split as if he was a spider before a blinding light hit him. Rapidly blinking to regain his vision, he was met with an entirely new scenery.
It was the same Nephis, but different. Training with a practice sword, her expression was anything but childlike — the complete opposite of the previous one. It was just as she had described her childhood from the rare occasions she talked about it. Slowly piecing the puzzle together, he finally caught an idea of what could be happening.
Before he could even correlate his next thought, his vision split once more. Now he was in an empty chair at the end of a table. Sitting on the left and right were Smile of Heaven and a man who must have been Broken Sword. Nephis, or child Nephis, seemed to be slightly older now. They weren't talking, but it wasn't as if there was tension in the room. He could tell they were content, just enjoying their meal in silence together: the Smile of Heaven who could never smile again giving a bright smile after every sip of her drink, the ever-so-stoic (or so he's heard) Broken Sword gently looking at his wife and daughter as if this was the only thing he needed in life, and the child Nephis simply enjoying her meal while having the love of her parents.
This was a family — the family she never had.
This time his vision didn't split. Rather, he was in nothing — no, not only that — it was as if he was nothing. No hands, no feet, no eyes. Wait... no eyes? Opening his eyes, he was met with a funeral. There was no Smile of Heaven there, but there was Broken Sword. Sort of, at least. While he wasn't there physically, a picture of him stood — his expression that of a man who's fought hundreds of battles yet lived to tell the tale of each one. The other thing that caught his eye was the casket being laid into the ground right in front of that very picture.
As if everything fast-forwarded, the large crowd attending the funeral was gone, leaving only the child Nephis — no tears to be seen falling from her eyes — as an older woman who seemed to be from the First Generation said she would meet her near their driver. Sunny jumped as the woman tossed a glance at him before turning around again, walking once more.
Is he finally being able to be seen?
Walking up to Nephis, he crouched next to her. She only spared him a glance before turning her vision back to the now-covered-up hole her father's empty casket was in. His throat was clogged, though he wasn't choking. They were clogged with things he wanted to say to her that wouldn't flow out of his mouth no matter how hard he tried.
As if getting an epiphany, he closed his eyes, only to be met with becoming nothing once more. No body, no brain, no heart. It was as if he was a jellyfish.
Though this time, he could feel it — he would be able to say something. There were so many things he could say, yet there was nothing he could say that would change the inevitable fact that was right in front of her face. That is why there was only one thing he could tell the girl.
"It's okay to cry."
He couldn't hear his own voice, but he was sure he spoke during that moment. So once more, opening his eyes — his vision and hearing returning to him once more — he was met with a sight he couldn't describe. It was as if it was out of a tragic fairytale.
She wasn't Nephis.
She wasn't Changing Star.
She wasn't the last of the Immortal Flame Clan.
No — at that moment, she was just a girl who's lost her parents.
Her sobs being heard by nobody but him. Her tears being seen by nobody but him.
He was, and would be, the only one to ever witness the Queen of Humanity cry.
His vision split only to fade back into the sight of a young blonde girl in between two figures who seemed to be her parents. Scouting the area, he could see a tent; to the side of it seemed to be all the things you would need to go on a long hike.
Finally taking notice of the terrain, he realized they were in the mountains. Aiming his sight to see what the family were currently looking at, he craned his head up to be met with the sky. Full of stars that lit up the sky as if someone sprinkled glitter onto a black canvas. No — the stars were far too bright to be described by such a bland metaphor.
It was as if millions of souls were spread across the sky, their will burning bright, lighting up the sky. A sight that could never be described, a sight that would never be able to be replaced.
In the end, he himself was entranced by the sky, his focus on it being ripped away as his vision split.
Once again, just like with Nephis, he was met with an alternative sight from the previous. The same girl seen before was crying in the arms of her mother, reaching out her hands to feel her face.
The girl's flaw had made her blind, leaving her unable to see that sky again — no, that wasn't right. It was more like she was supposed to see that sky but never would be able to due to this.
Sunny figured it out a long time ago what he was seeing, but this just confirmed it for him. What he was seeing were the lives of Nephis and Cassie if the spell never existed. But he was also seeing their lives — their lives with the spell.
Sunny's vision split, but this time he didn't have to open his eyes once more — they needed not to adjust to the blinding light no more.
Sunny's vision was stained with the undeniable truth: his own rotting corpse in some random corner of the slums. This was his fate without the spell — to die a meaningless death, missed by nobody, loved by nobody, known by nobody.
His vision flung upwards as if he was being thrown by a force. There he saw it — the world untainted by the spell. He could see it in its entirety: those of the United States where the gate opened and the many other continents, the animals he knew to be extinct carrying on to live, the night sky full of the net of stars he would never be able to see.
Why was it that he was still in the slums? After all, the spell never existed — there should be no need for that, right? No. In the end, that was his fate — to die a meaningless death that amounted to nothing at all but a waste of the oxygen in one world.
Was he dead? That was currently his only thought, seeing as he was in pitch darkness. Though despite it being pitch black, he could see one thing in front of him — a shadow. Before anything, he tried to speak to no avail, as if his function to use speech was stripped from him here. Each step he took towards it felt like he was getting closer to a truth — a truth he didn't know he was looking for.
Has it been hours? Months? Years? He was still walking towards that single shadow that he could somehow make out in the pitch darkness.
"Could you accept your fate?"
Where did that voice come from?
Looking around, trying to extend his shadow sense, only realizing now that it didn't work.
"Would your death have any meaning?"
He finally knew where the voice was coming from. It was coming from the shadow.
"Will you regret?"
The shadow took form — it was as if he was looking in a mirror, but if his reflection was infinitely more breathtaking, more horrid, more treacherous… it was as if he was looking at a god.
"For the erasure of the spell... could you accept your fate? Would you regret if you let the spell persist in your world? Would your death have any meaning if you take my hand?"
The words of what could only be a god in front of him didn't go through his ears. No, his very form didn't go through his eyes either. It was as if he was letting him see the bare minimum of his true self, letting him hear only the echoes of a whisper of his true voice as to not overwhelm his very soul. Rather, it was as if the God's words went straight to his very core — straight into his heart.
Sunny's life had been full of hardships and suffering, but yet there were times where his very happiness was a result of those struggles.
If he never left the Dark City and had been gutted, eventually going insane, then he would have never met Kai. He would have most likely died in that well, utterly alone — a death not fitting for such a noble person like him.
This was only one instance, though. If he never went to the Forgotten Shore and he managed to survive wherever he ended up, then his deeds would be far too little to get the house close by Rain. Those small things built up into one grand picture — a picture of light at the end of the tunnel.
If he took the God's hand, every bit of that suffering would disappear — but all of his happiness would also.
On the other side of things, if he did take the God's hand… Nephis, Cassie, and many others — no, the world in its entirety — would be better off.
So in the end, he was left with two choices: would he take the God's hand and have a meaningless death but ensure the lives of millions would be saved and improved? Or would he refuse it and live to regret not taking it every time he witnessed the suffering that the spell brings?
The hand was extended, as if just waiting to embrace his hand or to either fall back to its side.
"I think you've got one thing wrong..."
He had finally regained his voice in this void, and with it came his decision. A smile spread across his face as he picked his head up to look the god directly in its eyes.
"It won't be a meaningless death."
Those words echoed in his very mind as he spoke them, his hand clasping the god's. He finally realized it now — he had misunderstood what the god was saying. The god wasn't asking if he would live to regret not taking his hand. No, it was the opposite.
Would he regret submitting to fate after his desperate struggle to overcome it?
The answer was simple, and that was because he didn't have one. The reason for that being he didn't believe he was submitting to fate. In order for him to let fate have its way, then he would have to die a meaningless death — and in his eyes, this was far from meaningless.
Those were his last thoughts before his consciousness faded once more.
A frail-looking young man with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes was sitting on a rusty bench across from the police station. He was cradling a cup of coffee in his hands — not the cheap synthetic type slum rats like him had access to, but the real deal. This cup of plant-based coffee, usually available only to higher-rank citizens, had cost most of his savings. But on this particular day, Sunny decided to pamper himself.
After all, his life was coming to an end.
Enjoying the warmth of the luxurious drink, he raised the cup and savored the aroma. Then, tentatively, he took a small sip… and immediately grimaced.
"Ah! So bitter!"
Giving the cup of coffee an intense look, Sunny sighed and forced himself to drink some more. Bitter or not, he was determined to get his money's worth — taste buds be damned.
"I should have bought a piece of real meat instead. Who knew actual coffee is so disgusting? Well. It's going to keep me awake, at least."
He stared into the distance, dozing off, and then slapped himself in the face to wake up.
"Tsk. What a rip-off."
Shaking his head and cursing, Sunny finished the coffee and stood up. Rich people living in this part of the city were rushing past the small park on their way to work, staring at him with strange expressions. Looking haggard in his cheap clothes and from the lack of sleep, unhealthily thin and pale, Sunny was indeed out of his place here. Also, everyone seemed so tall. Watching them with a bit of envy, he tossed the cup into a garbage bin.
"I guess that's what three full meals a day would do to you."
The cup missed the bin by a wide margin and fell on the ground. Sunny rolled his eyes in exasperation, walked over, and picked it up before carefully putting it in the trash. Then, with a slight grin, he crossed the street and entered the police station.
Inside, a tired-looking officer gave him a quick glance and frowned with obvious distaste.
"Are you lost, boy?"
Before he could respond, his world faded, being met with an empty void as the words repeated once more:
"Are you lost, boy?"
He felt as if he had been here before… no, he knew he had. Though this time it was a little different than what his blank memories would remember it to be.
Currently stretched out in front of him were two paths. He couldn't see what they led to, but for some reason, he knew what they were. On the right was his death, and on the left was the story fate would tell as he walks that path.
He supposed even in the end, even when taking the god's hand, he wasn't 100% sure of his choice, leading to this. All of his memories of what had happened had returned, and his body had become nothing once more — nothing but a consciousness deciding if it gets the choice to exist.
Could it be that instead of being a result of his uncertainty, this was a result of simply choosing the wrong answer?
But would that mean the true answer would be to let millions die?
No. That's simply illogical. There was a piece he was missing.
Looking to the left, it would be the life he had lived up to this day. Looking to the right, it would be erasing all of that.
Maybe in the end, there was no right answer. Yes… that had to be the case.
So what does that leave him to do?
If there's no right answer, then what choice does he have?
There's only one thing — a choice not bound by fate, but rather bound by his very own free will.
Turning around, he walked in the opposite direction of those paths, his body slowly accumulating strings of itself.
Seconds, minutes, hours, years, decades, centuries, eternity — Sunny doesn't know how long he had been walking. But what he does know is that he has reached the end of the void.
There's still one last chance to go back, to make a choice, to take what chain he will let drag him away.
But he refuses.
Breaking through the void, there was only one thing left behind — a man-shaped hole.
---
'The Nightmare… it's starting to collapse!'
Somewhere far away, Nephis must have delivered a fatal blow to the First Seeker.
But Sunny could not concentrate on that thought for too long.
Because just then, he noticed something moving in the darkness.
A hunched, towering shape that filled him with indescribable horror.
'H—how did I not notice… before…'
A giant creature had been hiding in the darkness of the vast cavern, hidden completely from his sight, his nose, and even his shadow sense, despite being the size of a hill. It had a hunched back, a disheveled mantle of messy black feathers, a terrifying beak, and mighty wings that were vast even when folded, hiding its gaunt body.
And a vile soul filled with more Corruption than he had ever seen, spreading outward from six grotesquely giant nodes.
'A… a Cursed Terror…'
Horrified, Sunny took an involuntary step back.
And just as he did, a pair of round, utterly insane eyes pierced him with a demented look.
A terrible pressure crashed into him, making it hard to breathe.
The Cursed Terror that had been hiding behind Oblivion's grave… was a giant, mad, and unmistakably vile bird.
'D—damnation!'
Sunny took a step back, but at that moment, the vile bird lunged forward, its demented eyes igniting with avarice and greed.
Before he could even react, he was drowned by its loathsome shadow.
And then, its talons plunged into his chest.