Sitting on a weathered stone at the edge of the training yard, Caster of the Han Li clan drew a cloth slowly along the length of his blade.
He didn't need to clean it, all he would need to do was to dismiss the weapon and then resummon it if that is what he wanted.
No, he cleaned his blade because he found it meditative, it helped him ground himself, and he found that he needed a lot of grounding recently.
'Where did I mis-step?' He asked himself.
The question was rhetorical, he knew what, or rather who, was the cause of his concerns.
Sunless.
A nobody. A stray mutt he had barely acknowledged two months ago. A sleeper so far beneath his notice that Caster had once struggled to remember his face.
And yet now, that same mongrel had become a thorn lodged deep beneath his skin, impossible to ignore.
In hindsight, he should have been more cautious. When Changing Star showed up in the Dark City with the two lowest ranked sleepers of the academy in tow he should have been more suspicious.
Even with her prodigal strength, surviving the Forgotten Shore for months while dragging around two liabilities should have been impossible.
It was impossible.
Unless one of those liabilities wasn't a liability at all.
'If Sunless is who I think he is…'
It makes sense. Too much sense.
He had been warned that the enigmatic Shadow Clan may interfere with his mission, they had been protecting the last daughter of the Immortal Flame Clan for years now after all, why would they stop when she was sent to the dream realm.
Caster's jaw tightened.
Very little was known about the Shadow Clan. Their existence was more rumor than fact, something quietly whispered about in the domains. The only tangible evidence of them were the corpses left behind whenever someone tried to kill Nephis.
Perhaps that was why he had dismissed Sunless so easily. No one had ever seen a member of the Shadow Clan before. They were phantoms, cowardly assassins who lived in the blind spots of the world.
'But what do they even want with Changing Star?'
It was the question that had plagued the domains for nearly six years. Did they want the Immortal Flame name? The lineage of Sun god? Some old oath? Some inscrutable scheme?
No one knew, but considering Changing Star's relationship with her shadow, he was leaning towards the lineage theory.
Seduction was one of the tools assassins used after all.
'Or was it the other way around?'
The thought made him grimace.
No, impossible, Nephis couldn't seduce a rock, let alone some shadowy assassin. The girl barely understood how to speak to people without sounding like she was issuing a decree. The idea of her manipulating someone, anyone, was laughable.
He exhaled slowly. Regardless of the truth, one thing was certain, he would have to go through Sunless before he could kill Changing Star. A week ago, he believed that the shadow stood no chance against him.
That belief died the moment he saw Harus's head burst in an explosion of gore.
Caster's fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade. He couldn't do this alone. Not anymore. He needed allies. Tools.
Fortunately…
He lifted his gaze.
The yard around him was littered with the remnants of the guards. They lingered in loose clusters, sharpening weapons, muttering among themselves, casting uncertain glances toward the castle.
They were wounded, leaderless, angry.
Perfect.
With Tessai dead, they needed someone to follow. Someone who could promise them vengeance, glory, or at the very least, a target to blame for their fear.
He doubted every guard would be useful, but he didn't need all of them. He only needed enough.
And there were more than enough here who would leap at the chance to put Changing Star's head on a pike.
Caster allowed himself a thin, cold smile.
He could work with this.
***
Cassie drank greedily from the Endless Spring, the cool water sliding down her throat like a balm. Through her bond with the Quiet Dancer, she watched Nephis and Sunny shift into their fighting stances.
Even without sight, she could feel the tension in their bodies, the familiar electricity that always sparked between them.
She wiped the sweat from her brow with a worn cloth and allowed herself a small smile as her two best friends began to circle each other.
She had missed it, she had missed him, Sunny's absence had left a hollow ache and now that he was back, the simple fact of his presence felt like a weight lifting from her chest.
But the smile faltered, thinning at the edges as the memory of her vision surfaced.
Her stomach tightened, she forced herself to shake her head sharply as though she could dislodge the rising dread.
Not now, not while they were laughing, happy, together.
She shoved the guilt back down where it belonged, burying it beneath a facade of practiced calm.
Her fingers curled around the hilt of her rapier, knuckles whitening. Through the Quiet Dancer's senses, she caught the bright smiles on Sunny and Nephis's faces as their blades met in a ringing clash.
Those smiles were like daggers to her heart.
Part of her warmed at the sight, genuinely happy for them. A smaller, quieter part was envious, of being the odd one out, of being left out and left behind. But the largest part… the largest part simply hurt.
Because she knew what was coming.
Her visions had been accurate so far. Gunlaug was dead, just not in the exact way she'd seen. But visions rarely were literal, they twisted meaning, wrapped in metaphor. The throne didn't matter, the death did.
A sudden laugh from Sunny echoed across the clearing, It snapped her out of her melancholy for a heartbeat
Only for the dread to return twice as heavy.
They would fight in the crimson spire.
And only one would leave.
She didn't know what would spark the conflict, what chain of events would drag them to that terrible moment. But it didn't matter, the outcome was fixed, the path was already set.
And she had already chosen her side.
Already betrayed Sunny.
Already told Nephis his true name.
She had done it because she believed, hoped, that Nephis needed it more. That the future demanded it, that fate had already chosen its champion.
But it didn't make the guilt any softer. It only made it sharper.
She didn't know what that knowledge would do to him, only that it was dangerous enough for Sunny to kill a Sleeper who had stumbled upon it.
Cassie swallowed hard, the taste of the endless spring suddenly bitter on her tongue.
Cassie exhaled slowly, the breath trembling as it left her. She let the Quiet Dancer's senses wash over her, grounding her in the present.
Sunny lunged, Nephis countered, two forces of nature colliding, complementing each other, challenging each other.
They looked like they were made for each other.
She wished she could change the vision, rewrite fate, undo the choice she had made.
But fate was immutable.
Sunny stumbled back with a laugh as Nephis pressed forward, her blade a streak of silver. Cassie felt the joy radiating from them, bright and unguarded, and her heart twisted painfully.
She wanted to freeze this moment. Hold onto it. Pretend that the future wasn't already written.
But she couldn't.
So she watched them spar, pretending for just a little longer that everything was fine. Pretending she hadn't already set the future in motion. Pretending she hadn't already doomed one of them.
She had seen the future.
And she feared she had become its architect.
***
""Kick their asses Sunny!""
The shout rang across the training hall, followed by a chorus of whoops and laughter.
Sunny couldn't help the small, crooked grin that tugged at his lips as the Hunters crowded along the edges of the room, leaning against the wall and sitting on crates like an impromptu audience.
For reasons he still didn't understand, nearly all the Hunters had started hanging around him after he'd sparred with, and thoroughly beaten, each of them in turn after his match with Gemma.
What had started as a simple demonstration had somehow turned into a daily spectacle. Now they treated him like a mix between a mentor, a mascot, and a particularly violent form of entertainment.
But the six people standing in front of him now weren't Hunters.
No, these were the six guards who had survived his onslaught in the great hall. The ones who had watched him carve through their comrades like a living nightmare. And for some unfathomable reason, they had started hanging around him too.
Sunny's grin twitched.
'Are they all masochists? Why is it only people I beat up who stick to me? Are they crazy? Is this some kind of trauma‑bonding thing?'
He didn't get it. He wasn't sure he wanted to.
Still smiling, he shifted into a loose, casual stance, resting his odachi lazily across his shoulder.
He tilted his head toward the six trembling former guards.
"Well? What're you waiting for?" he asked, voice light with amusement. "An invitation?"
The guards exchanged looks, wary, and just a little terrified. After a moment, they nodded to one another and began to spread out, forming a loose circle around him.
Sunny let them. He even hummed a little tune under his breath to ease there nerves a bit.
It seemed to have the opposite effect, however.
The archer moved first. He felt the shift in her stance through his shadow sense before he heard the twang of the bowstring.
Sunny stepped aside, dodging the arrow.
The moment he moved, the rest of them lunged.
Steel flashed, and someone yelled something that sounded suspiciously like a battle cry but cracked halfway through.
Sunny spun.
Like a dark tornado his odachi swept through the air in wide arcs, parrying one strike, redirecting another, knocking a mace into its owner's shin.
He twisted, letting a sword pass harmlessly by his ribs before flicking the flat of his blade against the attacker's wrist, sending the weapon clattering away.
Every time one of them tried to flank him, he angled another attacker into their path. Every time someone overextended, he tapped them aside with humiliating ease.
Thirty seconds later, five guards were on the ground, groaning, disarmed, or clutching bruised limbs.
The archer, to her credit, fired again.
Sunny caught the arrow mid‑flight.
He flicked it back with a casual snap of his wrist. The blunted tip smacked her square in the forehead with a satisfying thunk.
She yelped and toppled backward.
The training hall erupted into cheers. Hunters hollered, clapped, stomped their feet. Someone shouted, "Do it again!" Another yelled, "Teach me that spinny thing!"
Sunny sighed. Loudly.
The former guards dragged themselves upright, muttering curses and thanks in equal measure as Sunny gave them a few quick pointers.
As he finished, he noticed Gemma approaching, his expression serious.
"What's up?" he asked, rolling his shoulder.
"The last of the easily hunted nightmare creatures in the dark city have been slain." He said.
Sunny's brows drew together. "Have the artisans finished the siege engines?
Gemma nodded.
""Yeah. Kido says they're just stockpiling ammunition now. They can move whenever Lady Nephis gives the word."
Sunny stretched, joints popping faintly.
"Then I suppose we'll be leaving for the Crimson Spire in a couple of days. Make sure the Hunters rest. Last thing we need is someone burning themselves out before the big battle."
He summoned the Endless Spring, took a long swig, and let Serpent slip back into its tattoo form along his arm.
Without another word, Sunny turned toward the exit, the cheers of the Hunters fading behind him as he stepped into the dim corridor beyond.
The Crimson Spire awaited.
A/N: Heya everyone, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that I'll be done with the forgotten shore in the next chapter or two. The bad news is that I'm going to be doing alot of overtime this week so next weeks chapter will probably be delayed... I'll try make it a big one to make it up to you all.
(As always, feedback is appreciated, so let me know how I did.)