---
By the time the storm had passed, night had already settled in deep. The three of them lay huddled together, bodies pressed close, seeking warmth in the bitter cold. Nephis clung to Cassie like a lifeline, her arms wound tightly around the smaller girl, fingers curled against the fabric of her tunic as if afraid to let go. Cassie, blind and unaware, melted into her embrace, her breath featherlight against Nephis' collarbone, the slow rise and fall of her chest the only sign of the deep exhaustion that had overtaken her.
They looked delicate like this—vulnerable in a way they never were in battle.
Nephis, who burned like a relentless star, who never faltered, never hesitated, was now exposed to the night, wearing only the scraps of Sunny's spare clothes. The fabric clung too tightly, too short to cover her completely, leaving the smooth curve of her toned stomach bare, her legs exposed to the cold air up to mid-thigh. She should have been shivering. But instead, she only held Cassie closer, their bodies tangled together, silver and gold hair woven into a single, messy cascade.
Cassie, by contrast, was all softness—her delicate frame cradled against Nephis' own, her pale skin flushed from the cold, her parted lips trembling faintly in her sleep. She looked breakable, fragile as porcelain in Nephis' arms, utterly unaware of the way she was held, protected.
Sunny sat a short distance away, watching.
His thoughts, sharp as ever, ran in circles—turning over the battle, the two girls sleeping beside him, and himself.
Something was different.
The clarity that had always come and gone at his command refused to fade. He had lived with its presence for so long, slipping into it like a blade into its sheath, summoning it when needed and discarding it when the fight was done. But now, it did not leave.
It was *part* of him.
It had settled into the core of his being, reshaping his mind into something cold, calculated, and ruthlessly efficient. He was always ready now. Every moment, his instincts were honed for battle, his thoughts sharpened to a fine edge.
In some ways, this change was more profound than the transformation of his body at the end of the First Nightmare. He could *feel* it—his power, his control—it wasn't tied to shadow fragments or Aspect Abilities. It was something deeper.
His gaze lifted to the sky, and for a brief moment, he wondered—
*Is this how Nephis always feels?*
Probably. Mastery of the body, mastery of the mind.
He wasn't a master. Not yet. But it felt as though he stood on the threshold.
His thoughts drifted back to Nephis, curled tightly around Cassie, pressing her body into the smaller girl's frame, seeking warmth just as much as she gave it. For all her strength, all her power, she was still human. Still vulnerable.
Without thinking, Sunny reached out a hand, sending the Starlight Legion Armor to her.
He had a good idea what her Flaw was.
*I know both their Flaws… but should I let them know mine?*
'*'
By morning, no one was in any rush to move. The storm had passed, the air was crisp and damp with the scent of rain, and for once, they had the luxury of stillness. No immediate threats. No pressing dangers. Just the quiet aftermath of survival.
They gathered what they could from the carcasses—the fallen Carapace Centurion and the lifeless scavengers—harvesting meat before nature or something worse claimed it first. Then, without a word, they moved to the opposite side of the small island, instinct driving them to put distance between themselves and the remains. Blood, after all, had a way of calling things.
And they were right to be cautious.
Not long after they had left, something dark appeared in the sky.
At first, it was nothing but a smudge against the pale morning light, barely noticeable. But as it drew closer, the shadow grew, expanding into a monstrous shape that blotted out part of the sun.
Then, with a deafening gust of wind, it landed near the Centurion's corpse in a violent whirlwind.
Sunny crouched behind a rock, breath tight in his chest. He had never seen anything like it.
The beast was massive—easily twice the weight of the Centurion, if not more. Its body was a corpse-pale white, thick with powerful muscle, shaped like some grotesque cross between a lion and a nightmare. It moved on eight limbs—two massive, sinewy hind legs and six others that jutted from its wide chest in a grotesque, asymmetrical array. Each ended in long, wicked talons, sharp enough to carve through bone like butter.
But its most striking feature was its wings.
Great, black-feathered things, stretching out from its back like torn banners of death, their sheer size capable of swallowing the sky. Its neck, too, was covered in those same dark feathers, shrouding its grotesque form in a veil of shadowy plumage.
And then there was the head.
A raven's, but wrong. Too large. Too still. Its glossy black beak gleamed like polished obsidian, curving in a way that promised nothing but devastation. Its enormous, round eyes held an eerie intelligence—cold, emotionless, hungry.
From their hiding spot, they watched in tense silence as the beast tore into the Centurion's remains. The carapace, once a hindrance , crumpled like dried bark beneath the savage assault of talons and beak. The cracking of bone and chitin filled the air, wet and visceral.
When it was satisfied, the creature plucked a few scavenger corpses in its talons as though they weighed nothing, then spread its great wings.
The wind howled as it took off, each mighty flap creating a hurricane of displaced air, sending loose debris skittering across the rocks. The black wings carried it effortlessly upward, rising higher, higher—until all that remained was a distant, vanishing speck.
It was heading west.
Sunny let out a slow breath, watching the dark shape disappear beyond the horizon.
"Neph. What do you think that thing is?"
Nephis was still staring at the sky, a faint furrow between her brows. After a few seconds, she lowered her gaze.
"I have no idea."
"Great."
That was enough of that.
Sunny simply nodded and got to his feet, rolling his shoulders. There were better things to do than dwell on something they couldn't fight—not yet, anyway.
Like practicing.
He still had the Katars Nephis had taught him, and he could *feel* how close he was to a breakthrough.
But first, breakfast.
They built a fire, the flickering warmth chasing away the morning chill, and roasted the Centurion's meat. It was surprisingly good—rich, hearty, and satisfying. After days of nothing but dry rations and half-edible scavenger meat, it might as well have been a feast.
And after stuffing themselves until they could eat no more, the three of them simply collapsed onto the rocky ground, lying back, soaking in the rare peace of the moment.
After surviving two scavengers at once, barely escaping the sudden flood, scaling treacherous cliffs in the middle of a storm, and fighting an Awakened monster—all in a single day—
They had *earned* some time off.
'*'
Here's the revised version with added fluff and an extra focus on Nephis' social awkwardness:
---
Cassie hated the quiet.
That wasn't anything new.
Ever since she could remember, she had been surrounded by life. The endless hum of conversation, the laughter of neighbors, the comforting background noise of people simply existing around her. Her parents, her friends—always there, filling the silence, keeping the emptiness at bay.
But ever since her Flaw had stolen her sight, she had come to loathe it.
It wasn't just because she could no longer tell where people were. In truth, she missed the mundane. The casual footsteps of strangers, the rustling of clothes, the distant sound of someone pouring tea. She missed being able to sense the passing of time without effort.
No, her hatred stemmed from something deeper.
The quiet showed her how truly alone she was.
That first hour at the Academy had been the worst.
No idle chatter, no soft greetings, no friendly voices checking in. The silence had swallowed her whole. It had ripped through her heart like a blade, leaving her aching in ways she couldn't put into words.
And then—Sunny.
He hadn't just entered her life. He had stumbled into it, like a jester tripping into a queen's court. Loud, sarcastic, infuriating, but undeniably present. He had drawn her out of her shell with his sharp tongue and sharper mind, filling the void she had once feared would consume her.
But he wasn't always with her.
And oh, how she wished he was.
She sometimes imagined shackling him to her, like a shadow that could never leave.
The sound of metal hitting the ground broke the silence, sharp and unexpected. For a brief moment, her breath caught—until she recognized the familiar rhythm of Nephis' footsteps.
"Why did you give it to me?" Nephis asked abruptly, as if the thought had only just occurred to her.
Cassie tilted her head. Ah. So Sunny gave her a Memory.
"What did Sunny give you, Neph?" she asked, curiosity sparking in her voice. Was it a weapon? Armor? And why had he given it to Her?
Sunny never struck me as a selfless person…
"Oh. An armor. From the Centurion," Nephis answered, as if it was the most unimportant thing in the world.
Cassie frowned slightly, processing the information.
**Attributes: [Fated] [Mark of Divinity] [Child of Shadows] [Trinity] [Web]**
She felt the runes flicker to life in front of her, a silent tell of Sunny's presence before he even announced himself with his usual three taps of his foot.
"It's worse than the one I have, and you really needed some protection," Sunny said, his voice cool and steady—too steady.
He was hiding something.
Cassie had spent enough time with him to recognize the subtle shifts in his tone. Sunny liked secrets. He collected them. He hoarded his own and pried into others'. She didn't mind, not really. She even indulged him when she could.
"Actually… could I talk with Cassie for a bit?" Sunny asked, his words casual—but Cassie caught the hesitation beneath them.
A pause.
A long pause.
Cassie sighed internally.
She probably just nodded again.
Nephis wasn't the best at social cues.
Cassie waited.
Nephis did not move.
A few more seconds of silence.
Cassie could almost feel Sunny's patience stretching thin.
Finally, his voice came, just the slightest bit strained.
"Neph. That means leave."
"Oh."
A brief shuffle of movement.
Then, after another pause—
"Do you need me to come back when you're done?"
Cassie resisted the urge to groan.
"No, Neph, I think we'll manage."
Another beat of silence. Then, at last, Nephis left.
Cassie exhaled, turning her attention back to Sunny—only to realize that he was hesitating again.
That was… unusual.
"Hey, Cass…"
His voice was uncharacteristically uncertain.
"Hey, Sunny. What did you want to talk about?"
There was a small pause. Then—
"I want to talk to you about my Flaw."
What?!!
Cassie's mind stalled.
His Flaw?!
Flaws were private. Sacred. They were the deepest vulnerability a person had. It was common knowledge to keep them a secret for as long as possible.
Doesn't he know that?!
No—he had to. Someone must have told him.
So why is he telling me? Does he need help with it? Does it have something to do with why he hasn't eaten since the Academy…?
Her thoughts spun in frantic circles—yet all that came out was:
"Oh."
"I mean… I know yours," Sunny continued, his tone casual but not casual, "and we'll probably be spending a lot of time together, so I wanted to make sure there wouldn't be any problems."
"Okay."
Cassie's voice was distant, still trying to catch up to reality.
"But before that, I need you to promise me that you won't go around telling anyone."
The words snapped her back to the present.
"I would never!"
The mere idea of betraying his trust stung like a wound.
"Yeah… so, my Flaw has to do with being asked questions, it makes me the most honest man in the world, two worlds actually." he admitted, exhaling slightly. "I have to answer them,honestly.And some questions… well, answering them could have bad consequences. And before you ask, I won't tell you what those are. So, I just wanted you to be careful with what you ask me."
His words were steady, but there was something tense beneath them.
"I know the Cassie I know wouldn't hurt me on purpose. But… just be careful, okay? Please."
Oh.
He was really worried about this.
And—and he trusts me enough to tell me!
Cassie reached out, fumbling slightly until she found him—then pulled him into a tight hug.
"I will. And can you please call Neph I also have to admit something."
'*'
Lying was the third most important tool when it came to manipulating people.
But for someone like Sunny—someone forced to be honest—only the other two remained. And so, they became invaluable.
The first was consistency.
A story had to be told the same way, over and over again, until it became truth in the minds of others. It had to align just enough with reality to be plausible—close enough to the truth that no one would think to question it. People found comfort in patterns, in predictability. If you gave them a story that made sense, one that never wavered, they would accept it without even realizing they had been led there.
The second was understanding patterns.
People saw meaning in things even when none was there. If he told someone that one stood for green and two for yellow, their mind would instinctively try to complete the sequence. They would assume that three meant red—even if he had never said it himself.
This was something he had learned from the Celik—to create a framework so rigid, so unquestionable, that no one would even think of challenging it.
And now?
Now, he would use it to bury his secret.
No one would ever know his True Name.
The first step was Cassie.
She wasn't difficult to handle. Despite her talkative nature, she was kind-hearted—maybe even too self-conscious to risk stepping over a line. If he laid things out for her, clearly and firmly, she would listen. More importantly, she would hesitate before asking him something that could endanger his secrets.
So, he simply told her what she needed to hear. And what he needed to say.
If she was worried enough, she wouldn't ask the wrong questions.
Next was Nephis.
She would be harder to deal with.
She had been ready to kill him when she thought he was an assassin, and Sunny had no doubt that some of that distrust still lingered. It was buried now, perhaps even forgotten—but it hadn't disappeared.
And so, he needed to erase it.
He needed her to believe that he was trustworthy. More than that—he needed her to believe he was reliable.
Thankfully, he had already laid the groundwork.
He had hunted with her.
He had given her clothes.
He had taken care of Cassie.
He had kept his deal.
And now? He had given her a Memory.
All that was left was to sell the story.
To give her a reason to trust him.
—
"Hey, Neph."
She glanced at him, eyes sharp, muscles coiled like a snake waiting to strike.
"Hey, Sunny," she said, mimicking Cassie's tone—except it came out stiff, unnatural. She was trying, but the effort only highlighted how bad she was at it.
Sunny ignored it. He had more important things to focus on.
"I think I know your Flaw."
No need to ease into it.
Nephis, of all people, would appreciate directness.
And he could tell—she was already giving him her full attention.
Her expression didn't change, but her body tensed ever so slightly, the same way it had when she first suspected him of being an assassin.
"You feel pain when you use your Aspect, right? Or something like it," he continued, watching her closely. "That's why you meditate whenever you get the chance—to get used to the feeling."
She nodded, but said nothing.
"And still, you fixed my eye."
Nephis tilted her head slightly, as if considering his words. Then—
"We made a deal."
Simple. Practical. As expected.
"Still," Sunny continued, "I should tell you what mine does."
Nephis blinked, finally showing a hint of curiosity.
"It makes me the most honest man in the world. Two worlds, actually."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"But don't you lie every other sentence?"
Sunny almost laughed.
Sharp as a sword, even when she was terrible with people.
"No, I don't," he corrected. "I just don't explain everything."
She frowned.
"Isn't that still lying?"
"Nah." He smirked. "You don't have to explain gravity to tell someone they'll fall if they step off a cliff."
Nephis considered that for a moment, then simply nodded.
"Ah."
That was all.
No accusations, no distrust. She was accepting it.
Good.
"Anyway," Sunny said, "I should let you know that Cassie already knows. And I'll ask you the same thing I asked her—be careful what you ask me. Because you could really screw me over."
Another pause.
Then, finally—
"Also, Cassie wants to talk to us."